( The scene opens with the rising synth strings of “Always been but never dreamed” by Hydelic over a close up of OWA’s reigning Prestige Champion Mark Michaels. His face portrays the strong, battle tested confidence he has become known for.)

Kate Brady: Come follow me. I’ll show you the side of the world, the places that you’ve never seen. Come follow me. 

( The scene fades and transitions to a montage starting with Michaels emerging from a caravan wagon as the Romani King at Game Over 2021. Several shots follow with Michaels hanging out together with the members of the Sania, including Harman Ardelean, Georgio Del Mero, and the Twins Gyp and Sy. First at a backyard barbecue, then at last call giving a one more toast to living the good life, and finally a post match group celebration inside the ring.)

Kate Brady: Come Follow me. I’ll show you the side of yourself, the person that you’ve always been. But never dreamed. 

( Next a series of black and white shots of Mark’s bloodied face followed by him being put through tables, smashed through the glass chambers of the Thunderdome, and having his face ground against a steel cage.)

Kate Brady: What could you be afraid of if I’m right here with you?  You know everything will change.

( next a series of shots of Mark picking himself up off the canvas. He may be on shaky legs, and need the assistance of the ropes or the cage that surrounds him, but in every case he reaches his feet and waves on his opponents for more.)

Kate Brady: Show me what you are made of, cause I’m always with you. Come on, we could leave today. 

(The color returns as the montage transitions to a series of clips of Michaels offensive attack. Scenes of clotheslines, Superman punches, spears, the caravan crush, the crowning achievement, and the prekaza plunge play with every impact matching the beat of the music.)


Kate Brady: Come Follow me, Come follow me. 

( Next we see clips of Michaels celebrating his victories. Moments of his getting his hand raised, and standing on the second rope with his arms held up high are capped off with a shot of the Prestige Championship held in his hands.)


Kate Brady: Look at this, the world were made for. Come with me, we’ll take tomorrow. Everything you want is waiting for you. 

( a final gathering of clips, this time of Mark  signing autographs, taking pictures with, giving Hugs and fives to, and other interactions with the OWA fans.)

Kate Brady: Take it in, the light surrounds us. Perfect love is all around us. Everything you need is waiting for you.

( the song comes to a close with the montage concluding on a slow motions shot of Mark in his entrance gear with pyrotechnics going off behind him.)

——————-

( the scene fades back in on Mark reclining back in a chair on the balcony of his hotel room. The sunlight shines on the face of the Romani king as he stirs sugar into a white mug of coffee sitting on the table besides him. The reigning Prestige champion smoothens out his Randy Moss signed Minnesota Vikings jersey with his free hand before he addresses the camera.)

Mark:  Hustle and Heart. That has become something of a mantra, a motto, and an all around philosophy for me in last few months. It’s what’s brought me the respect of the crowds, it’s brought me incredible success here when I was being all but swept aside, and it’s been the only way I’ve ever known to keep food on my table and shoes on my feet. It’s has been hard work and never getting lazy or complacent that has helped turn my dreams into reality. Take for instance how a few weeks ago I successfully defended the OWA Prestige Championship in a match with Corey Matthis. Let me tell you man, I’ve had some great matchups against great opponents, but in terms of two guys straight up wrestling to prove who’s better this has to be one of, if not the best match I’ve had here in OWA. My hat is off to Corey, our match lived up to all the expectations that come with the name Wrestle spirit. He really made me earn the win, earn the right to defend this title at Final Destination. But as hard as it was, that win proved that I’m ready to do so. It proved that as many times as you can knock me down, I’ll get back up ready to go one more round. That match proved I’m at the top of my game, in peak form, or like my man Harman might say, I’m operating on god mode and taking it to a whole different level. So when you feel like you can take on the whole world like I am right now, it gets you that much more amped up to go out there and show to the world that you’re just as good as the last time you went out, and you’ll be just as good the next.  I take pride in what was a great test of endurance, and technique, and with Corey. But on that same night we had this great match, the world, yours truly included, witnessed what many would call a huge upset, and many more would call highway robbery. You can call the difference between how I beat Corey, and how Remming Ivory Prescott beat Noah Reigner night and day. Where me and Corey had an outcome that was based on skill, savvy, and plain being too stubborn to stay down, Remington needed to use the ref like a human shield, stab a mother fucker with a screwdriver, and kick him in the balls afterwards to boot just so that trust fund asshole to eek out a tainted victory, and pretend he’s got something that’s  bigger than 3 centimeters hanging between his legs.  And boy is this son of bitch proud of himself. Like It comes as no surprise to me that Prescott has never put  his blood and sweat into anything he does. In fact the man looks down on such things, and anyone who’s ever had to do so. But when that bell rings he’s gonna see what hard work and dedication brings, because yeah Remington, this is my life. This is my dream. This belt is everything I’ve ever wanted since I was six years old. I have had to fight and struggle every goddamn day for it, and I’ll be damned before your spoiled ass just comes along and takes it! Especially when you said that you have no desire to hold the title with pride, and continue to build its lineage. No all you want is a goddamn participation trophy that you can wipe your ass with. 

How you even gonna think of taking this title off me, when you’re too big a pussy to do anything more than run your mouth like you get nickel for every stupid thing that falls from it, and hide behind learning disabled Larry over there. Take how you were so much of a  chicken shit that you dared me to throw a punch, then ran away  like a little bitch when I try to take you up on that offer. I know you think of it as playing it smart, and that being a pussy somehow makes you think in that fat, swollen head of yours that you put ME in MY place, when really all you’ve done is applying a fresh coat of yellow up your goddamn spine. Like you do know we’re about it have a wrestling match right?  This isn’t boxing where you can pull a Mayweather and run like a coward before getting a single jab to win the round?  No score cards, no point decisions. When that bell rings I’m not giving you an inch of breathing room Prescott. I’m gonna be on you like white on rice, and I’m making you stand toe to toe with me. I’m not backing down, and when you throw one of those feeble punches at me I’ll take it on the chin and give two rocket right hands that will knock you the fuck out plain and simple.  Boy, you’re about to see that I go harder in the paint than Joel Embiid, and I’m gonna be dunking on your ass all night long.  The simple fact of the matter is when that bell rings, I will make you hail to the king baby! you don’t have much choice otherwise. You don’t have a choice because like I said before, I’m a student of the game who knows every trick your about to pull. Hell, I’ve pulled all of them myself!  So as much as you like to think you’re this sly cunning fox one step ahead, or a slippery codfish that I’ll Never get my hands around, you’re really just a constipated sheep. Full of shit and headed to a slaughter.  This is my world you dig? That ring is my house, and you sir will not disrespect me in it, I guarantee you that. I just hope and plead and beg that for you own sake you’ll  try and come at me like a man.  That you’ll put all your money where your big mouth is and act like the leader you say you want to be. That you’ll have an ounce of self-respect, and not just an over inflated ego, so that you can look yourself in the mirror the day after you get your ass handed to you by some gypsy who came from nothing. 
  
( Mark Straightens up a bit, before taking a sip of his coffee. He takes a second to reflect as he swallows the warm brew.)

You know folks, I was listening to this jackass mumbling on and on in his private plane. Somehow kissing his own ass while he blew himself. And at first I laughed, but then I got worried. I’m just gonna say it. I think Remming Ivory Prescott has brain damage. I can think of no other explanation of how the guy can say the shit he says with a straight face. Like How the fuck does he forget that me and him and faced off before and I’ve always gotten the better of every exchange. Well if I’m being honest here, if anyone had the kind of performances he put in, in those matches we had, they’d want to forget all about them and pretend they never happened either. yet somehow he calls me mediocre? The worst champion he’s ever seen?  Like mother fucker you were standing next to Gram Baker during his horse shit run. If I’m just some mediocre pile of crap,  then how is it I’m the one with the title and you’re the one with his thumb up his ass?!  Wait don’t tell me, let me guess. The reason is because you’ve  been busy having to pay call girls to fulfill your little flight attendant kink, because no woman would even think of touching you if you didn’t pay her to. Okay so maybe that one super fan but she obviously has some issues upstairs, and zero taste in men.

 Perhaps what’s more concerning is  the fact that this mother fucker says he can’t remember my name just days after we had that little confrontation. I knew Noah Reigner kicked the shit out of you, but till now I wouldn’t have thought to blame you being a total asshole on the fact that you’ve had most of your brain cells stomped out of your skull. I’d almost feel bad if you weren’t such a prick even before Noah turned your grey matter to mush.  This guy says I’m only here to get pops from the crowd. Mother fucker if you would do more than have Monster Truck give you that scouting report he doodled with scribbled crayon, and more than 8 seconds of fast forwarding through my matches, you would know that when I stepped through the doors here in OWA I was just about as hated as you could get. Yet somehow when I became a member of the Awakening, and we ran roughshod over Olympus in ways that Prescott here couldn’t even dream of, they hated me even more. And when everyone thought that Mark Michaels was all but done and ready to swept aside for the next guy to sign with the brand, something changed. Maybe they saw a guy who wouldn’t let others control his narrative? Maybe they started giving me some credit for striking out on my own?  But what I think happened here was that they saw a man who fought for every dream he ever had, regardless of how many times he had to walk through hell and back to get them. They grew to respect a guy who gave his sweat, his energy, his heart, soul, and every drop of blood in that ring.  They saw that no matter how many times I had been knocked down, I kept getting back up and handed out ass whippings like it was a fire sale. These people didn’t want to like me but They respected the hustle I had. And that respect goes both ways with me, and everyone who’ll be packing that stadium at Final Destination, and yes will be cheering for me. 

Remington, you say you don’t care about me, or my family, or where I came from. You don’t care That I survived at Final Destination last year when I thought lost everything I thought made me a somebody in professional wrestling. Down through Game Over where I flipped the script on what everyone said was gonna be the end of Mark Michaels. You don’t care that At Boiling Point where The Romani King was the first man in and withstood the most punishment of any man inside the Thunderdome. And you don’t care, even though you should because your ass was got beat at Civil War, and my team was victorious and kept Friday nights a place where your hard work is what mattered, not kissing ass and sucking up like some of the members of the roster chose to do. You don’t care Just like everyone else I’ve sent on a ride down the prekaza plunge time after time.  That’s the difference between us Prescott, people may not care about my family’s name, or what I’ve done to get here, but I make them care. I make sure them care when there’s locked in the Gypsy Curse. I make them care when their shoulders are pinned to the mat and they just don’t have enough left to kick out. What’s more, I do it with nothing more than my two hands, all the lessons I’ve learned from all the mentors I’ve been lucky enough to have, and whether you call it heart or just being too stubborn to die, the will to get up and get what I believe I’m worth. You on the other hand, you got all these people that You pay to be around you, and do you little dirty work. You got your hand maids/yes men telling you you’re the greatest thing walking god’s green earth like dancers at a strip club trying to get you into the VIP room.  You got your empty headed bodyguard with the needle still hanging out of his ass and drool hanging out of his mouth. You got your one lone fan who answers all the fan mail she alone sent in. And it still isn’t enough to beat me, little old poor Mark Michaels who loves the sport, who wants to honor the title with how he defends rather than just claiming to make it great again and that everything he does is spectacular. Not enough to beat the dirty Gypsy who you see as nothing but a dog, and a monkey. Not enough to get your hand raised at Final Destination and you damn well know it. That’s why you gotta go paying for some hentai looking bitch to either whip you into shape, or just help you outright steal the goddamn Prestige Championship at Final Destination. I’m telling you right now that it still won’t be enough. 


So bring your best Remington, the soon to be just another name on the long list of overhyped underdeveloped dick heads Who’ve underestimated me, right before I knocked them upside the head and sent home crying to their mothers.  Come at me  bro with everything g you got, because Nobody is gonna want to hear any whining, any crying, or any bullshit excuses after this is over. This is Final Destination, the top of the hill, the grand daddy of them all, so hold nothing back, because I’m sure the hell not!  I’m win, lose, or draw, I’m leaving everything I have in that ring, because while you might feel like this is something you can do on the weekends with your bros, to me this is everything. You’re right when you say Final Destination Is a fitting name, because I’m not a weekend warrior, hell every time I get in that ring there is no tomorrow to me.  So Prescott, get ready, because at Final Destination, me and everyone riding the cosmic caravan are coming to show you that all the money in the world can’t keep you from getting this here size 13 boot from kicking you square in the ass. We’re coming in to show you, that money can’t buy you respect, or honor, and all it’s gonna be good for is buying you some nice false teeth after this is all over with. Bring that A game Remington, The Romani King demands nothing less bitch. 

( Michaels takes another sip of his coffee as the scene fades out.)

 
Ever since I made my return to the televised squared circle, it’s been very close to the same song and dance from nearly every single person I’ve crossed. The same taunts and disrespect to a person whose been to the mountaintop more than once in a business with no guarantees to make it there. You’d think with the number of times I was called those things I’d start believing it, but I am better than to fall for recognizable brainwashing techniques. I am WAY BETTER THAN THAT. My trials and tribulations to make it to this point are a constant reminder that I am none of those labels, and those using them are reaching.

The Professional Wrestling business has been known to be very cut-throat from top to bottom to the Men who were great before, especially those capable of that greatness in the present. And while I did not expect a standing ovation for returning like Klay Thompson received, I expected people to do their due diligence and show more respect to a man with standards for himself, a man who bears an ideology that has led to success already, and a resume to inform those both ignorant and dismissive of the past that those insults mean nothing.

(DT The Ruler closed put down his paperback copy of A Book of Five Rings and picked up his glass of whiskey and walked from his desk to the window, looking first at the Hartford, Connecticut sky and then at the cars moving about through the Downtown Area)


The reason I do is simply this: my in-ring abilities shut them up. In business, I deal with a lot of potential partners who talk too much about what they plan to do, what they have, and what I’m not doing, all according to what they see. But like in Wrestling, I tend to do better closing people’s mouths with my actions. Expanding my company size and locations, making a major deal with a company my competitors are not able to: that’s all part of everyday work. But in the case of what happens in that ring, the story is different. Why? Because in that ring, violence is the only answer. Making people submit, beating them to unconsciousness: all of that is part of everyday work there, and I’m not done shutting people up.

I look at the past four or five months and the road has been ugly. It’s been turbulent, it’s been with its patches. And yet, I persevere where others would quit. I look at OWA and despite my associations, I have done nothing but go in that ring do exactly as I say I would. In preparation for my return, I promised to be both the Unstoppable Force and the Immovable Object. And despite going to the ring when scheduled and planting many wrestlers in the mat, things have not been going as planned.

On paper, the results of my work are not shown at all. Clash of the Titans has me destroying a majority of those who entered, reaching Top 8 after starting at 9, and no one cared. Out of the handful scenarios I’ve been placed in, only one was won, and it wasn’t a Title match. It wasn’t a Contendership match. It was an eight-man Hardcore Warfare contest, a match no one’s talked about ever since. Imagine that: a match with Christopher Sabertooth, Jeff X, Mr. Raivo, and Jodan all included, and you’d thought it never happened. It’s been a running story of my short season, and as angry as I have been at the fact that I keep getting jerked around and disrespected, I should actually be angrier. Despite that thinking, I can tell you that amidst my anger, is opportunity once again. I see not far from now is Ascension to the Heavens, a chance at a briefcase with a guaranteed opportunity encased.

With my view from my office, you’d think I already have touched Heaven with my resources. At my age, some of these clowns believe some Sky Daddy should have already determined if I go to Heaven or some Fiery Pit. But the men that live free of that mode of thinking are usually the ones that compete against the likes of myself. Ultimately they fail, but they get to at least try. Nonetheless, I’m feeling trapped in yet another clusterfuck of a contest, one that sets the stage for even more pain than the Clash contest did. It is also important to note that my business partner, Mr. Raivo, will not be part of it, as he has his own business to conduct. So that leaves me to inflict as much pain to every single person in this contest without thought. The match itself is not reliant on rhyme or reason anyways, right?




So, should I complain that it’s not a World Title match? Should I cry about how things haven’t been fair? Or, should I adjust and revel in its madness? It’s not in my nature to turn down a fight, and after what happened at the last edition of Kingdom before this coming event in Tokyo, I’m definitely not turning down an opportunity unleash a primal aspect of my nature.

So, ladies first, and as interesting as this can be, truth be told: I’m not going into this with intrigue in mind. A part of me should be more offended that this match is so mixed in personnel, but I then remember what profession this is, and this business is not normal by a long shot. And when it comes to the women, I have to eye Ms. Diantha Rosso first, the sister of one of my former rivals, an already accomplished warrior whose been through Hell most of her life, and a person I actually have a decent amount of respect for outside being just a business associate. Why? Because of the hard work regularly displayed by one of the most dominant forces on Odyssey. And yet, she is now in a contest with Yours Truly. Diantha, as accomplished as she is, has been on a weird and shaky wave amongst the Odyssey bunch. Not with opportunities running dry, no. But rather with being mentally unstable. Before Clash of the Titans, I let one of my advisors assist Diantha in finding a place to prepare for her contest against one Stephanie Matsuda, hoping that the setting she was given would allow for her to tap into a side of wrestler all the greats should be able to. You see, as well as I dress and speak, one thing many competitors must be able to do is tap into their inner Patrick Bateman at will. There’s a carnal side to every human that’s been suppressed but can be reached with mental and physical preparation, and Diantha unfortunately has not been able to fully harness that creature sunken under Modern Technology and Laws. It’s a side of us that allows for people to say Screw The Rules, Fuck the System, Be Down with the Sickness, or and allow violent aspects of your nature that don’t make sense to take over. And in a match like Ascension to the Heavens, the space is there for that irrational behavior to be… understandable.

Can Diantha grab that power within and make it into something horrifying enough to frighten the audience? Can she reach deep down and mentally transform into the type of otherworldly being that kills simply for the thrill of the hunt like an Anton Chigurh? The answers won’t matter because The Ruler already can.  After being in this business long enough and having to move back and forth between “modes”, it’s so easy to just become unhinged that at any moment you can just go from doing the most complicated submission to outright biting someone in the face or utilizing a weapon heartlessly. This type of match favors those who can do that already. As high as the cruelty level Diantha has reached, she has a long way to go to reach where I am.

And that is where the respect ends for the ladies.

I look at Odyssey whenever I can and also force my secretaries to do the same for research purposes, not because I’m some uncontrolled sex monster who salivates over fishnet booty butt-cheek shorts like the Internet Feminists categorize all men as, but because of ridiculous scenarios like this being possible. I had to look at this contest twice on paper before saying a word more because it looks exactly like someone sniffed cocaine while browsing Brazzers.com to create this nonsense. The more I examine this madness, the more I believe it’s straight out of a video game by Team Ninja, where only in a fantasy world can near midget-sized women compete with men thrice their size in a setting where rules matter little, and only mysticism puts them on equal footing! And when I see a degenerate like Ms. Rin Asakura, a mere featherweight no different than Marie Rose, scribbled down for a match with a man way beyond her abilities, being told to compete in a scenario she cannot withstand, I only see that this is the work of a cruel and unforgiving God. Whoever this God may be that thought placing this child in a fight that included myself: I may consider throwing away my agnosticism and praying in their name, because this aspect of the match is Divine Comedy. This truant seems to be allowed to just run around as if she is going to make an impact, and it appears like the whores of Odyssey have failed to send her to a place more age-appropriate, like Chuck E. Cheese.

But then again, they are mostly whores; they barely have standards for themselves.

Jokes aside, Rin should do the right thing for her well-being and that is not cross my path. I doubt she will as many in this business are hard-headed, but that I can assure would be one of the biggest mistakes in her career. I am going into this match with even more fervor than I went into the Clash of the Titans, and I don’t care who I have to stomp on in order to obtain the status and the win and the opportunity I deserve, man, woman or child.


And that goes for Liz as well. Ms. Elizabeth Karlson, a woman I know little of but saw enough over the past few months to note that I have nothing to worry about. I’m not the type to completely dismiss someone as a possible threat, especially in train wrecks where logic does not coincide with the setting, especially a former champion. But if I’m no more threatened by Ms. Diantha Rosso in this contest, why should I have any ounce of fear for a woman she just recently defeated? The audacity, though, of Ashley Walker on Odyssey consider her the favorite.

Really now? Are we allowing these OWA commentators to straight up LIE now? Is this because of Final Destination matches on FanDuel or something? It is utterly disgusting how much people are lying about her chances! HOW DARE THEY LIE THROUGH THEIR TEETH ABOUT A MATCH THAT INCLUDES MYSELF!

(DT The Ruler threw down his glass of whiskey, smashing it against the flooring of his office; as soon as he turned away from the window and walked towards his desk in frustration, one of his custodians rushed into the office and started to clean up the mess. One of his Advisors also walked in alongside a secretary)

DAMMIT MAN! WHAT’S GOING ON HERE?!

Advisor: Sir, you’re unraveling.

DT The Ruler: I DON’T REMEMBER ASKING YOU A GODDAMN THING.

Advisor: …..

DT The Ruler: …Unfortunately, you’re right. (DT fixed his collar and tie) I am losing my mind, and after dealing with the nonsense I’ve dealt with, it was only a matter of time.

Advisor: Sir, I understand, but as a man you appointed to give you advice, my best advice for you right now is to be even keel. But also, if I may interject further…

DT The Ruler: I don’t want you to.

Advisor: Sir, just hear me out. I believe, from what I’ve seen that y-you may be underestimating the Odyssey females a bit.


DT The Ruler: Excuse me?

Advisor: Sir, just l-l-listen. Those women are some of the most violent I’ve ever seen in my all my days. You have one that literally transforms into a man-monster and another that damn near killed another just to be a title contende-

DT The Ruler: (looks at his Advisor with anger and skepticism) So you’re suggesting I’m sexist? Are you one of those “Brittney Griner can take Demarcus Cousins” people?!

Advisor: I-I-I-I’m not insinuating that, sir. I just believe that those women in particular are much more monstrous than you may be giving-

DT The Ruler: I am not suggesting that they are no match simply because they are women. I am saying so because they are WEAKER. You had NOTHING TO SAY WHEN I WAS BEING AGE DISCRIMINATED, but have a dissertation in the works because they’re women? (DT The Ruler looked at the secretary that was scurrying to organize his paperwork on his desk) You, what’s your name?

Secretary: Shanice.

DT The Ruler: Ah yes, Shanice; beautiful name. How was your breakfast this morning?

Shanice: It was good sir.

DT The Ruler: Apologies that it wasn’t anything healthy; sometimes Dunkin Donuts food hits the spot and gets the juices flowing. (DT The Ruler looks at the Advisor once again) But anyways, let’s say I take Shanice and Big Earl, the three-hundred-pound man right outside the door, I see them climbing a fifteen-to-twenty-foot ladder, and I push them both off the ladder and they smack the ground back first. Who is going to be hurt the most: the one-hundred ten-pound young woman or the three-hundred-pound man?

Advisor: Sir, they’d both feel it pretty ba-

DT The Ruler: Answer the question correctly.

Advisor: …well, umm...


DT The Ruler: …No answer? OK. I take Rin and I effortlessly hit her with a Powerbomb. Then, I take Myojin- as scrawny as he is- and do the same exact thing. Who do you think may recover a bit faster, if at all?

Advisor: …

DT The Ruler: I see. (DT The Ruler walks back towards the window and looks at the sky once again) If that makes me sexist to point out the elephant in the room, so be it. Go ahead and try to have me canceled. It’s not under-estimation to point out the elephant in the room. It may seem intellectually lazy to speak what is a Given, but it’s still a truth.


But anyways…


And we come back around to two men I’ve faced really recently! Plot twist! Johan Jonouchi and Myojin are in the mix! Great, just great, because business feels absolutely unfinished after what happened at Kingdom, so I am very, Very, VERY THANKFUL that this is happening. No, no. Not because of Joey. See, Mr. Johan managed to do something I did not expect and that’s make me actually laugh in regard to something besides the general competition. So, congratulations to him: he made a reference I’ve been hearing since birth and got a smile to break through. (laughs) But the second most fun thing I’ve done in the last few weeks was beat his ass on Kingdom. Now, that’s not a guarantee that things will play out the exact same way at Final Destination. Not at all. But for JoJo, I’m sure with me trying just 1% more without rules and restrictions, things will not fare better. I now know what to expect from JoJo, and that’s a fight; he actually delivered on his promise to take the road many walk but few succeed. Unfortunately, with The Ruler of Men as a roadblock, his progress will come after I make my mark again.

But of course, I have to mention the current Outlaw Champion.


A man who believes he’s running out of competition on Kingdom, despite his contenders recently including a rookie who had no business having a title match before me. A man who holds a pinfall over the current OWA Champion, despite cheating to be able to do that. A man who’s become so delusional in his thinking that he believes he can really take me down, and when he had the chance to, he didn’t attempt that pinfall on me but instead went for JoJo. You see Myojin I should commend for managing to pull a snake move on Yours Truly, a move that got The Woman the OWA Championship, but I’ve been giving some of these people way too much credit to my own detriment. I’m not here to applaud anyone of my opposition, especially from the Golden Yawn; I’m here to win, and since he couldn’t put me away in any way close to what he said he would, I’m going to take the chance to hurt Arata’s dog even more severely. Because even with my desire to stack up Championships, I like shutting people up who talk too recklessly, especially those who have have tried their best to throw labels on The Ruler like "irrelevant". And if he’s going to try and make it where I am “irrelevant” and left to “continue my boring life”, I suggest he try something more exciting than taking a win I had in my clutches.

But it still won’t matter.

I know some people may hear my rage, some may not hear me clearly, but they may ask, “Despite the events of the past few months, how can he remain so confident and calm, especially on a brand where a majority of talent is ready to snap, with one even threatening to kill everyone with their supposed God Powers? How is DT the Ruler still believing he stands a chance when things have not gone 100% his way?” To start, I do NOT fear the threat of death. I’ve been arrested, I’ve been at gunpoint, and the threat of death from others doesn’t put fear in my heart. Anyone can take a life to preserve their own; that’s easy. And I don’t live fearing anything, especially another man.
 
But anyhow, to survive in any competition, you have to believe in yourself. You cannot ask other people to believe in you. Spectators will always be wishy-washy, and your competition has a very high chance of not seeing you as anything. And when everyone is gone, you only have yourself to rely on. What good does it to go into any contest saying “whelp, I’m going to lose anyways” without even trying? The Defeatist Mentality is what’s slowly developing a generation of boys who dream of being like Tyler Durden instead of taking on adversity and actually becoming men, and I refuse to be amongst them.

Second, I see these setbacks as nothing but a short trend, a fad that can be broken at any time. Social Media especially is full of videos and quotes that are talked about by the masses but them fade away for the next trend to take over. Even my companies being currently at a surplus overall, is a trend that may or may not end. This current trend of The Ruler being on the lower rungs of the ladder won’t last much longer. This is not a fight of relevance for me at all but instead one where the Master and Ruler emerges supreme over all others. No excuses. Business will be handled by The Master of Ruler…his way.

I heard RICOs come from the police trying to get Italians, which means what's happening to my YSL brothers is due to you Italians! Damn you Nobi! Damn you Nate Cage! I'll make you both pay.

Elijah Hampton gained some of my respect, but not you two! Nobi, you were always a mole, selling out our crew like an informant trying to get a lesser charge in a RICO case, you make me sick! Every culture has deadly responses for traitors, and believe you me this will be for the culture Nobi. 

And you Nate Cage, the one they're calling a Gabaghoul, The Sexy Soprano. Well guess what? The Sopranos was mid! Just like the Godfather movies. The Wire, now that's where organized crime is at! Shit, I might even rather watch that white woman on Weeds! I am a man of sophisticated taste with gangsters, I like cartels, inner-city gangs, the Taliban, even bikers in Sons of Anarchy, and American government with Homeland! 

Kidding, I never watched that white trash Sons of Anarchy. But I said what I said.

 
 
  
  


  
  
  
  

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
 
  
 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
 

( The scene opens on a shot of the Tokyo sky tree. The large broadcast antenna shines in the sunlight as it stands large over the rest of the city. We transition to the observation deck, where we find the OWA Prestige Champion Mark Michaels along side his cousins Gyp and Sy. The trio all look out over their surroundings.)


Mark: Man, it’s so amazing up here. I’m glad you guys decided to join me. If you would have told the boys back home when I first started training to wrestle that we would be where we are right now, they would have shook their heads and called us all crazy. But you guys always had my back so I’m glad that however far I go getting to the top of Olympus that I can bring you guys along for the ride.

Gyp: Hey you talked about getting to the top, it looks like you’re on top of the world right now don’t it cousin? You’re living the best life here, you’re making money, you’ve got all these people cheering you on, and you’re making all the family proud everyday man.

Mark: Thanks bro. Yeah we all got it pretty good now. I almost can’t believe it. To me I feel like it was yesterday when I packed up everything, and put down over a year’s worth of savings just to start training. That was a lot of long nights and early mornings out to get enough paper to chase this dream. And it only got tougher from there. it took busting my ass night in and night out, Hitting the gym harder than I ever had before, and going through matches that left every part of my body so sore and wounded that I was almost amazed I found enough to Will myself to get up and walk around my house. That’s what it takes to climb up from the bottom, to damn near the top of the world. And it took working twice as hard to rise up when everyone was counting on me to fall off last year.

Sy: Yeah but bro, we never doubted you for a second. We knew you’d be here because we knew you’d never settle for less, and had way too much heart to give up. like when we saw you lose that match you had at Final Destination 3, some of the boys back home didn’t know how you would bounce back. But me and Gyp knew you better. You always had that way about you where when you put your mind to something you got what you wanted.

Mark: I tell you, looking back to that six man tag, that loss was a hard one to swallow. But I don’t think you’d find many who wouldn’t say it was a blessing in disguise. It started me on a quest last year. A quest that’s taken me through some rocky roads, but I’m here now with just one last stop, one Final Destination, before I tie a bow on this season. It’s been a long journey for me to reclaim the Prestige championship, and just now defending it in a barn burner of a match against Corey Mattis reminded me of everything I had to do to get here. Now I’m here in Tokyo at the top of my game with a truck load of momentum leading the cosmic caravan to what’s gonna end with the biggest party we’ve ever thrown. One that worthy of That long road, and every moment along the way. I’m here, just inches from finally making good on everything I set out to do. I’ve been working hard, I’ve been hustling my ass off, and I’m so amped up that I feel like I could toe to toe with any Kaiju you could name. I tell you guys that there’s something in the air right now. An electric vibe that flows right to my heart and I feel the excitement running in my veins.

But there’s one last hurdle I have to jump, one last hill to take, and I know it won’t be an easy one. Not because the guy I’m facing is Particularly strong, or tough, or talented. But because he’s the slimiest son of a bitch I’ve ever met. A gold plated scumbag with no sense of pride or honor. The most prekaza gadro you ever met. A guy who doesn’t know a damn thing about working hard, or having dedication to your craft, and then somehow in his twisted little mind convinced himself that he’s better than you and me. That dude who has never worked a day in his life, and spits on anyone who ever has. A man who pisses on all the men and women who have poured their blood, and sweat, and broken bones for the sport of professional wrestling. Men and women who spent their lives devoted to making sure people got their money’s worth every single night. And more than that, cuts hard working up and comers who are out there damn near killing themselves trying to catch a break off at the knees by taking a spot on the Olympus roster, just to turn around and say this shit is all Just a hobby to him Like it was goddamn arts and crafts.

Gyp: You talking about that little bitch? What’s his name?

Sy (mockingly): Remington Ivory Prescott. First question I have is what kind of dick hole uses all three of his names?

Mark: Yeah that douche. The guy who dubs himself the future of professional wrestling, then in the next breath says he can just walk away without having accomplished a damn thing in OWA. Some future huh? How can a man claim to be a leader, when he doesn’t love what he does? Or to put it in terms he can understand, when he doesn’t have skin in the game. And now this bastard wants to take championship gold in what would be the wrestling equivalent of a pump and dump scam. I’m sure he’ll run around making all promises in the world, he’ll tell everyone he wants to make Olympus Prestigious again. He’ll talk about his pedigree, his lineage, and how he was born to be great. Really It feels to me like all Remington is really trying to do is convince everyone, including himself and especially his daddy, is that he isn’t the biggest pile of elephant crap walking god’s green earth. That his father’s golden testicles, produced such a soft, sorry, sad sack, mealy mouthed, disappointing, son of a bitch, plain and simply is haunting Remington like goddamn Freddy Kruger. And he thinks that winning the Prestige Championship will make wipe the stain of being a spoiled sniveling, little shit who’s only where he is because of who he’s related to. For Remming this might just be a way to get some exercise, see the world, and win daddy’s approval.

Sy: Wait Is he ripping off Goldmember?

Mark: To me, this is everything that wakes me up in the morning, drives me to get out of bed, put in those extra hours in the gym, and most importantly fight till my last breath in that ring. Remington threatens to leave me bleeding like he did Reigner, not knowing that I’ll bleed out the very last drop of blood pumps through my heart if it means beating his ass at Final Destination! This isn’t just some passing fancy the way it is with that silver spoon fed little shit. Well come Final Destination, I’m pulling the silver spoon out of his mouth, and shoving it directly up his ass!

Sy: Damn Cousin, you sound like you’re bout to rampage like goddamn Godzilla.

Mark: Yeah sorry. Can I tell you guys something? I was kinda shocked when Remington answered the open challenge I made for Final Destination. I don’t mean shocked just because Pissoff industries, or whatever the fuck his daddy’s company is called, was able to find him a pair of balls big enough to pop up on the tron and step up to the plate. No, the thing that shocked me didn’t really bother me at first, because everyone knows that RIP loves to talk a lot of shit, that’s just the kind of asshole he is. I’ve kept this to myself l, And I’ve debated sharing this with you because I didn’t want to give that smug prick the satisfaction of getting under my skin a tiny bit. But I gotta be honest and shoot straight from the heart, because hearing Remington Ivory Prescott call me a goddamn monkey pissed me right the fuck off! Shit like that is the reason why our parents taught us like their parents before them to not bring up our heritage. Shit like that is why I wouldn’t talk about my family in public. This past year as I finally embraced my roots the OWA universe has shown me so much love, and every time I hear them cheer i feel so Grateful and humble for all the support. But hearing that spineless, gutless, clueless, fore flushing, two faced, low life son of a bitch, utter those words while not having enough manhood to come and look me in the eye when he said it, well goddamn if I didn’t lose the lone sliver of respect I had for that pussy Prescott.

Gyp: Bet.

Mark: Now I know that little bastard is smiling hearing this. Right now he’s thinking he’s got me off my game, and in most any other case that would be a safe bet. Trolling an opponent and Infuriating them to where they only see red is a hell of a mind game, And Prescott is a master at this. But while Remington might think that he has me too hot to think straight, really all it’s done is wake me right the fuck up. From now till the moment I either knock his pasty ass the fuck out, or make that son of a bitch scream I quit, there won’t be a moment where I’m not thinking about Punching Prescott in his pudgy face. He has my full, undivided attention.

Sy: He done fucked up.

Mark: Damn right he did. He’s getting the full measure of Mark Michaels, THE FUCKING ROMANI KING! And come Final Destination I’m gonna teach that mother fucker to keep his mouth shut before he even thinks of trying of saying something against our people. Because the next time he does I’m gonna shove my foot up his ass and use him for my slipper.

Gyp: If it will fit along with his head.

Mark: You got a point there. This guy calls himself the future of Olympus, the new leader of OWA, And sure he talks a good game, but in that ring it takes a lot more than a smooth sales pitch you can dupe investors with. Take Clash of the Titans for example. This mother fucker tries to go upside my head with a Diamond ring, because of course Remington is nothing if he’s not beating you over the head with how rich he is. So he slips on this fat ass Diamond on his hand, and tries to knock my head off with it, and long story short I dumped his ass outta that match. Right there should have thought him that there are things money can’t buy, like talent, or class. If that’s the future leader of this company, then OWA is going straight to hell in a hand basket. What does it say about a man when he was handed everything he ever wanted on a silver platter, given every advantage in life, had advantages that people would kill for, that he needs to take a shortcut every single time he’s in this ring. Like it wasn’t shady enough he ran along with Oasis and Graham Baker like a goddamn puppy dog in order to get a spot near the top of the card, but can you even name me one credible opponent who he didn’t need to low blow, or put his feet on the ropes during a pin, or have anabolic Al soften up on the outside? What has Remington ever done with his own two hands? But of course like you said, RIP has his head wedged so firmly up his ass he’s gone nose blind to the smell of his own shit. Did you hear that asshole bragging that he couldn’t beat Noah Reigner straight up? I heard that I thought to myself how is the bar so low for a guy who thinks so highly of himself that he can Swing his dick around for being a goddamn chump, and outright sucking so hard that you got to burn the damn rule book just to win by the skin of your teeth?

But because he buys into his own bullshit, he thinks I’m gonna go easy on this punk like Noah did last week. He thinks he stands a chance in this match because sal he’s says not gonna play my game, and actually try beat me like a man. Instead he outright admits that he’s gonna need some trick up his sleeve to win this match.

Sy: What? Like a magician pulling a rabbit out his ass?

Mark: I think you hit the nail on the head there pal. But really, he thinks that he’s that sly and clever that he’s gonna pull a fast one on me? This man hasn’t done his homework. There’s an old saying that goes you can’t trick a trickster, so what trick could he pull that I wouldn’t know a way out of? Bump the ref and have your bodyguard run in? Not if Big George has something to say. Maybe he’ll try rolling me up and grabbing my tights? Ain’t no way His weak little arms can hold me down. Or maybe he thinks I’ll just let him plunge a screwdriver into my forehead like Noah Reigner? Even if he did, has he not seen the shit I’ve gone through? I’ve bled, I’ve been electrocuted, I’ve been set on fire, and that was just one match! If he thinks that I’m gonna shy away from fighting fire with fire, literally if need be, then boy will his ass be in for a surprise. He wants a dirty gypsy at final destination, I’ll be the damn dirtiest mother fucker walking if need be. And for good reason too.

See I defend this prestige championship with pride and honor because I believe at least one title on Olympus deserves as much. More than that, I want this title to earn its place standing side by side with the Immortal Championship on top of the Olympus Pantheon. I want this belt to represent facing the best in world, and using your skill, your talent, and your determination being the better man. I want an honest debate over which championship means more, because I’m not gonna knock the Immortal championship, but in my book you got to earn being the top title on a brand, and that’s what I’m here to do with this Prestige Championship. I’m here every week to make the case for the Prestige Championship being on top of that Pantheon. That all goes down the drain if Remington Ivory Prescott gets the win here at Final Destination. Because if he should manage to steal a win, it will be a reign consisting of nothing but count outs, DQs, and more bullshit than you can shake a stick at. In short he’ll have a title, but I promise you he will not be a champion. I’m here to keep the prestige in the prestige championship by pouring my heart and soul out in that ring. I’m here trying to be the guy who makes the belt and not the other way around.

So Prescott best enjoy the time before that bell rings, because his mouth has been writing checks his ass can’t cash, and I’m here to collect on the tab. He better enjoy it, because it’s the last time he can say he’s better than some Gypsy who worked his way up and never had a damn thing handed to him. And knowing Remington, after this is over, Remington will pay some ghostwriter to pen his memoirs, and get all the credit for great exaggerations, and outright lies that makes him out to be the hero of this whole thing. But no matter what, deep down Mister Prescott is gonna know that he’s never had any heart, any guts, or any balls. He’s a gold plated worm swimming in my pond, and I promise you guys that in the moments before I tear through him like a hot knife through butter, that blue blooded bitch is gonna HAIL TO THE KING BABY! It’s R.I.P. for Remming Ivory Prescott.


Gyp & Sy (in tandem): Bet!

Mark: And when this is all said and done I’ll still be right here sitting on top of the world.

A chair flies across the screen from right to left and crashes into a wall. It splinters into pieces and falls to the floor. The camera slowly zooms out, revealing a dimly light gym. Weights, speed ball, heavy bag, ropes, large tires; it's all there. Another chair is tossed towards the fall, this time bouncing oddly and only breaking a leg before crashing to the floor. The camera jerks to the right, showing James Diamond's scowling face again. His normally tidy, slicked back hair is out of place and hangs in front of his eyes. Breathing heavy, he just stares at the camera for a moment before taking a deep breath and stepping back. He composes himself and uses both hands to try and push the hair out of his eyes and back to how most are accustomed to seeing it. He turns his focus on the camera and glares.

"Let me get this straight, OWA. The Landerson hides from me for two weeks, decides to drag himself to the arena anyway, gets concussed and loses to me and the very next show he gets a championship title match? Are you out of your minds?! Somehow this is all business as usual to you people. Even Ryo Sakazaki decides to run his mouth and dared to speak my name out loud and brush me off like I'm nothing and he's some great champion. Look, kid, that championship belt doesn't make the man, the man makes the championship belt and let me get one thing crystal damn clear for you: if you're out here defending against a nothing like Landerson after my knee reshaped his skull and you think you're hot shit than you're in for a very rude, very violent awakening. You and your garbage, children's title aren't worth my time so I suggest you do yourself, and your career, a favour and keep your eyes to the floor and only speak when spoken to."

The hair that was barely in place before, falls forward into the face of James Diamond. He pauses to pull out a comb this time and properly fix the hair that has become askew. Satisfied, he returns the comb to his pocket and turns his attention back to the camera.

"That brings me to this weekend. A showcase, if you will, where only a few people have to work and the rest get to dick around and do nothing. It makes sense, if you're OWA, to put me in a match on card like this one though, if you really think about it. There's going to be a ton of absolute nonsense going on and there needs to be a break so you can earn the wrestling part of your promotion's name so who better than James Diamond to make sure that actual wrestling takes place. I am little confused though as to where they found this Julius guy. Is this one of those bits where you find a local jobber just to fill a five minute segment and then you can move on with the rest your carnival act? It sure doesn't seem like he has a proper contract with OWA, so why you're throwing him in the ring with me when he doesn't even have proper medical coverage is concerning. But what's more concerning is this is now two shows in a row where I'm tossed some scraps just to, what, keep me quiet? Oh at least you got a match, James, just be thankful for that. Let me tell you right now if that's the case, you're going to have a serious problem on your hands. Some unsigned jobber gets paralyzed from the neck down, OWA to blame!"

James gasps in mock surprise. Then clicks his tongue and shakes his head.

"But if that's the kind of press you really want, I suppose who am I to argue with it? I mean, I'm sure Julius Rose has boasted and bragged about how tough he is and how ready he is to play on the big boy's stage, right? I mean, hell, you must believe the bullshit he's been spoon feeding you if you honestly let him sit in front of a camera and waste a good twenty minutes of air time just rambling and running his mouth about basically nothing."

He cracks his knuckles off screen and shakes his head.

"Look, kid, I don't know what OWA promised you--a contract maybe?--but I'm here to tell you it's not going to be worth it. You can talk all you want about your New York bullshit gang banger this and making your mommy cry and your imaginary special friend and blah, blah, blah but when you step inside a ring with me all of that goes away. There is no pack of friends to help you out. Your mommy sure as hell isn't there to kiss your boo-boos better. No, see, it's just you and me. Everything else just fades away and becomes nothing more than a dull noise in the background. All of it. Even the fact that you now seem to think you're the second coming of Jay-Z and some big shot business man, fades away. It all fades away. Man against man and nothing more.

You want to know who I am? You want to know who is James Diamond, son? Well, it's funny you should ask because I thought I made myself pretty clear against The Landerson but I guess some big shot like you doesn't have the time to study up on who he's going to be facing, right? Too busy dreaming about the streets, or some other cliche garbage. See, I'm not Seen or Prescott or Drago or any of these other so-called wrestlers OWA parades around. No, see, I am a professional wrestler, Julius. Not a paper champion. Not somebody that just stands here running their mouth week in and week out without an ounce of ability to back it up. But even being the professional wrestler that I am, you make a very valid point. Where oh where are my accomplishments? Even Jacob Senn has them, right? I mean, if he can do it surely anybody can. Well, son, my old ass didn't much care for championships. If you weren't paying attention before, let me refresh you. See, the championship doesn't make the man, the man makes the championship and if I had a dollar for every generic create-a-wrestler wannabe I've come across screaming about how they're a champion and they're the best and whatever else I could comfortably retire now. Why in the world would I want to win some over hyped, gold plated paper weight that means absolutely nothing? I'm a man of many talents, Julius, but even I can't give prestige and credibility to something that has never actually meant anything."

James Diamond shrugs.

"A perfect example would be reminding me that The Landerson was an EAW World Champion. I mean... if that isn't the perfect example of what I just spoke about I honestly don't know what else is. If all that wasn't enough to drive that point home for you, I know something else that will. See, you flap those gums at me saying that you're going to have to see something better than what I did to Landerson and I fully intend on showing you exactly that.  You know, thinking back on it I suppose a wealthy businessman like yourself doesn't need to worry about medical coverage or if they have an OWA contract, right? Perfect. Because you're right, Julius. I don't care about you and if you think for one second that anything that came out of your mouth during that horrendous video package gave me any reason to you're more delusional than Ryo Sakazaki. You don't have to be chasing anything, son. You don't have to bring me to the your streets or show me any mercy or... christ by this point I honestly tuned out whatever bullshit you were going on about. Let me just be as clear as possible here, Julius, okay? You bring whatever the hell you think you need to bring and you imagine this going exactly how you want it to go with my blood all over the mat and whatever the hell else but at the end of the day just know that playtime is over. All I need you to do now is show up on Saturday in your little wrestling boots and tights and I'll do the rest. I'll make sure I live up to everything that I've said and open your eyes up to the real world. I promise that you'll see me Saturday. But I can't promise you're going to remember much of it."

There is no joking in James Diamond's eyes as the camera slowly zooms in, focusing on them, before fading out to the next segment.

The last Kingdom had been a fateful night. A night that had changed the perception of the Shining Star, MYOJIN- from just the young rookie with potential to a very real threat. The silence that had followed the moment that the Outlaw Champion had pinned the World Champion had been so satisfying, all of those naysayers finally going quiet as they saw one of their heroes, their idols fall to the so-called sidekick of Arata Asakura. Though the moment had been so cathartic, they hadn't expected the reactions that they would receive from the rest of Golden Dawn once they had returned to their homeland and dojo.

There was a sense of newfound respect that MYOJIN realized they had earned, from Asakura and Daito, from the students. They recalled that when they had rejoined the group, there was a great distrust directed at them. Which had been expected, given the original betrayal, they hadn't been very much liked. MYOJIN had been an outsider to Golden Dawn and while they didn't care much for others’ opinions of them or their actions, they knew that they would need to regain everyone's trust to get what they wanted. Now it seemed that goal had been met as they walked down a secluded path on their own, walking on a bridge over a calm but rushing stream of clear water.

“MYOJIN-sensei,” The voice of a young woman called from behind them. The Shining Star stopped in their tracks, turning their head to the side to see who had called them. It was Miya, a student, the one that they had fight another in a presentation before their match against Emmanuelle's young boy, Sena. Not only that, but she was also one of their favored apprentices since then. “Do you mind if I walk with you?”

Pausing for a few moments, they then simply nodded. “Of course. What is it?”

The two continued walking. Briefly looking over toward her, the Shining Star could tell that they had something on her mind. “Go ahead, say what you have to say. I'm listening.”

“...It's about your match with Goto, there's just something that I'm struggling to understand…” She spoke, though hesitated. MYŌJIN simply shook their head.

“Go on.”

“Well, don't get me wrong, Sensei- I am happy that you won, I believe that everyone is. The other students have been talking about you, about how you were able to accomplish what Asakura-sama couldn't-”

“Be careful about your next words,” They warned sternly. The Outlaw Champion knew that if Arata ever heard something like that, there was no telling how he'd react because of his ego. Miya winced, bowing her head.

“...Sorry…But where I was going is that there isn't any doubt that everyone's impressed. It's just that… Goto showed you respect, yet you fought her like you've fought everyone else, witho-”

“Without mercy?” MYŌJIN finished her sentence, turning to face her as the two stopped. Miya nodded. Shaking their head, the Shining Outlaw simply sighed. “Miya, I know that you are used to sparring with allies; your peers at this point. I know that you are used to competing with people you consider your friends. But outside of training, in real matches, in real battles in that squared circle- No one is your friend. Your competition is not your ally.”

“Miya, do you know why you are one of my favorites?”

She looked up at them, curiously.

“Because you've been one of the very few to get how this works so quickly. One of the few to have really shown the bloodthirstiness needed to thrive. Wrestling is a cutthroat sport, when you eventually debut- You will realize that the systems and people in power will hold you back in favor of their handpicked chosen ones.” They explained.

“So… What you're saying is, I have to win by any means necessary?” She asked, her confusion resolving into understanding. MYŌJIN smiled, noting that she was getting it.

“When you're put at a disadvantage, you create an advantage for yourself. Take, for example, I'm going to be fighting two men soon enough, a  brute named DT and a weakling in Jodan Jonouchi? Instead of trying to take both head on, what would be my best option?” MYŌJIN asked, testing her.

Miya thought to herself, before her eyes brightened. “Pick your chances to attack carefully. Be sneaky. Let the stronger one do most of the work, then strike when you see an opportunity to prey on the weaker one?”

“Exactly, Miya. Real strength is not in pure power,  but in precision. In intellect. The Golden Dawn is not like these other impulsive, mindless fighters. We are tactical masterminds- and you, my apprentice, just might be the prime example of what our future looks like.”

”Now let's go back to the dojo, the sun is setting.”


You all expect me to gloat, don't you?

Oh, I could brag so- so much, justifiably so. I could talk about how I made my promise to humiliate Azumi Goto come true. I could talk about how she lost her focus like a rookie and paid the price for it. I could even go on and on about how the World Champion is beneath me, how everyone that assumed it would be impossible once again had the face that I cannot and will not be stopped.

…But there really is no point in it. After all, why would I repeat what everyone already knows?

After all, the results speak for themselves. Match after match, moment after moment, the people of Kingdom- whether they love me or hate me, have been forced to finally admit that I have become the one to watch. Ever since this year began, I have been on a road to becoming the greatest Outlaw Champion in this company's history. After all, I've done something plenty of the others haven't- beat the World Champion in the main event. I am the workhorse of this brand. I gave rookies like Danny Jaeger and Tanguichi Sena their fifteen seconds of fame and carried them to some of the most memorable matches of 2022. I humiliated Azumi Goto. For 118 days with this title, I have quickly made it the most wanted belt in the eyes of desperate failures that are looking for relevancy.

…Okay, maybe I'll allow myself to gloat just a little.

Though, of course- Because of my success, because of my iron fist around these ten pounds of silver, because of showing up their beloved champion with the easiest trick in the book- a distraction, they want to do their best to punish me. To stop me from going any further. None of them want me to make it to Final Destination as the champion, they couldn't make it any more obvious.

Last year, I would've been angry- fuming at how they continue to try and put me in situations that they think I will lose.

Now? I welcome the challenge.

…At least, if there was an actual challenge in this upcoming triple threat. Though between a choke artist like DT and an absolute embarrassment to professional wrestling, Jodan- I struggle to see it.

You're the Master and Ruler, right, DT?

That's so cute, but it doesn't really explain why you're Raivo's bitch, though, does it?

It's hilarious how many of you read from the same lines and recite the same stereotypical insults toward me, despite them never working. I can't even count how many times I've heard the unoriginal “You're Arata's sidekick” line.

Though it's not surprising that you lack any creativity, because you're bland. You're not remarkable despite how hard you try to present yourself as such. You're a bore that no one sees as a real threat, at best, the entire Kingdom roster is indifferent than you while they keep watching Raivo outshine you.

It's really cute you're the one to try and call me second best of the Golden Dawn when you literally are known as nothing more than the Spartan Champion's bodyguard. You think that you're intimidating, that you're a force to be reckoned with- but aren't you the same moron who was beaten by Ali Gory? Stark?

Oh, right. Those are flukes because they don't fit the narrative that you paint for yourself.

DT, you're not capable of breaking anyone's spirit. Most people fall asleep during the few matches you've had where you choked. Though I know exactly why you want to try to ruin me so badly.

You're jealous.

You see me, someone who has been doing this not even half as long as you- racking up championship gold and successes that you could only dream of. In under a full year in my debut in OWA, I already became halfway through with becoming a Grand Slam Champion by winning this belt for the first time and dragging deadweight to a Tag Team Championship reign- and that has only covered my success here. I'm a prodigy, a wrestling genius, a one-in-a-million talent that Kingdom should be thankful to have wrestling every show.

What the fuck have you done besides twiddling your thumbs and adding more shoepolish to your head? Be Raivo's hype man? Talk about your business, even if you speak about it so vaguely and indirectly that I'm pretty sure that's just a bullshit attempt to give yourself a drop of suaveness and charisma? Lose via a textbook roll-up pin people learn in beginner training from a conspiracy theorist that said you work with Epstein? Win some championships no one cares about in promotions no one here has heard of?

What is your purpose here, DT? You're certainly not a dominant force, so you're no Ruler. Your boss is doing fine by himself. You have… no identity, nothing notable about you, not even any skill that you can impress anyone of? The definition of mediocre.

And you think you'll take my Outlaw Championship? Aren't businessmen supposed to be realists?

Then there's the weeaboo, Jonouchi, the roach that appears in every other blue moon- and just like a roach, he never dies and never goes away fully- And once again, Kingdom is cursed with his presence. I'm honestly surprised you're still under contract here when every time you show your disgusting face, you fail. I never forgot about you pointing a gun in my face- and I still never gave you the beating that you deserve.

I was more forgiving back then, not anymore. I will finally do something that should've been done long ago and wipe you from the face of this company for good. The locker room should thank me for when I force you to retire when I humiliate you.

I will be OWA Outlaw Champion for as long as I FEEL like it, until I'm bored with it. I will never lose to the likes of a glorified henchman who wants to be a James Bond villain so badly and a weeaboo that has a dirty mop for hair, I'd rather die.

I'm going to Final Destination to further cement my legacy as the greatest Outlaw Champion that has ever lived.

As for you two?

Well, I'm sure there are some spots left in the B.O.B. Games. Just ask Oasis nicely and he'll do you a favor.

(The scene opens up to a lavish penthouse suite at the top of the fifty-floor Hilton Hotel in Tokyo, Japan. Sitting by the door open near the balcony overlooking the city is The King of New York, Julius Carmelo Rose. KONY has a glass of something gold in his hand and he takes a slow sip, turning to face the camera as he begins to speak.)

Julius Carmelo Rose: This is it then, huh? The biggest stage of them all, the main roster of the Omega Wrestling Alliance - these ain't the streets of New York anymore man, we're out in the highest of high rises looking down at everyone else in the city, hustling and grinding on their 9-5's, finding ways to survive on the streets, and at the end of it all, what is it for? That's a question I used to ask myself a lot when it was just me and my boys gangbanging on 145th Street. Every person I harmed, every mother I made cry when I put her son in the dirt, every blood-stained dollar I've had to fight for, I always asked myself at the end of the day, when I'd be praying to the Lord to forgive me for the sins I'd committed that day - why am I doing this?

(Julius takes another sip, rubbing his chin in thought.)

Julius Carmelo Rose: To this day, I haven't been able to answer that. It's just one of those things that's beyond us. Those kinds of questions are the reason we pray at night. Anyways, let's talk about what really matters. I apologize for the rambling but it's been a long day of meetings and phone calls for me making sure business is going smoothly back home in the city that never sleeps, while I'm out here in beautiful Tokyo, Japan. I wish I could have the time to go out and enjoy the city while I'm here but between the business I must take care of back at home and the amount of time I need to spend to keep myself in prime shape to continue performing at a high level in the OWT, let alone now that I've got a chance to "showcase" myself on Olympus. 

I know how it is out here, on these streets. People bleed, people suffer, people die. Olympus ain't a walk in the park. When two white boys fight on the streets of New York, we laugh. When two white boys fight here on Olympus, we call that Genocide. This shit is crazy. Dudes like Jacob Senn that have made careers out of being the best of the best can go to war with zombie-crackheads off the street, word to Darkane. I'm not no pushover or slouch neither. You think I haven't shed some blood myself? You think there ain't any bodies I've had to personally dig the graves for? When I think about Olympus, I don't get scared, I get excited.

It's been a long time since I was a lowly gangbanger on the streets. These days, I'm more about business meetings and luxury penthouses, as you can see. That being said, there's a beast inside every man... Mine ain't seen the light of day in years. Maybe Olympus is where I get to play again, where I get to go all out - no worries about mercy or restraint. If it takes a killer to survive on this brand, then I won't just survive, I'll be thriving, and I'll turn these streets into an empire too.

(Julius finishes the drink and puts the glass back on the table. He pulls out a cigar and lights it, taking a big inhale.)

Julius Carmelo Rose: They're telling me his name is James Diamond. Now James, I'm new to this industry and the wrestling world in general, so forgive me if this sounds ignorant but... Who are you? When I was told I was selected to get a chance to show myself on a stage as big as Olympus, I got excited. I was wondering who they were gonna throw me into the ring with, would it be an industry veteran like Jacob Senn or were we maybe thinking about one of my fellow rising stars like Prescott or Drago. Don't get me wrong, this isn't disrespect necessarily, I just gotta know... who are you? Who is James Diamond? Why the hell should I care about you? Way I see it is you're just some old-head trying to get his name back into the limelight. You as old as Jacob Senn but you ain't half as accomplished. I didn't want my showcase to be beating on some helpless old man. Congrats bro, you beat Landerson. That's a former EAW World Champion of course, but I'm gonna need to see something better... If I had a nickel in this industry for every old white man who thinks they're the best technical wrestler in the world then I'd be richer than I already am. That ain't selling it to me. 

Now I know you'll say the same thing. Why should you care about me? Well I just gave you every damn reason to. I'm not trying to be a better technical wrestler than you James. I'm not here chasing some old glory that I never got to achieve. I'm a killer, and I'm ready to mow down my way to the future. I've made an empire out of pennies before. I'll do the same here. If you're all they're giving me to work with in my biggest opportunity to date, then I'll make you look like a million bucks, because I'm not trying to walk in here and get some easy win. Imma make you fight tooth and nail, I'm going to make you bleed, I'm going to bring you something that you won't see in a wrestling school or any sort of award winning wrestling. I'm going to show you what it takes to survive against a man like me, James... When I'm in the ring, it ain't just in the ring anymore, it's MY streets, I run them, and there ain't no mercy for anyone who wants to challenge me on my own turf. 

I'll see you on Saturday.

A week after The Clash...


“I warned you, Stephanie.”


“I know Rina. We’ve been through this conversation already. Just tell me…what’s the damage?”


“You put a lot of strain on your body, specifically that heart of yours. I saw that fight in Brazil. If you didn’t beat Diantha, that may have been your final match. Perhaps even your last night alive.”


“...”


“You know I’m right, Stephanie. Normally I’m reserved in these situations because after a patient ignores your advice for so long you can only stand aside and let them endure the consequences. But, this is different, You and Monica are my friends. Do you want to make your wife a widow? Isn’t bad enough that she already lost-”


“Alright, I get it. It’s just…I need to make it to Japan. I have to make it to Final Destination.”


“Why!? Why is that event so special to you!? I get you’re the champ and all, but you’re not invincible! You put your body through so much hell and with your heart the way it is-”


“The Matsuda Curse.”


“You’re going to lose more than your title if you keep this up.”


“Rina?”


“Yeah?”


“Have you ever wanted something so bad that it keeps you up at night? That it haunts your entire being, something that you know you must accomplish, and until you do there’s nothing that can calm your soul?”


“Hmm. You want to know his name?”


“It’s like that, except that you replace your high school crush with standing in the middle of Japan National Stadium with the most prestigious women’s championship held high. Imagine that’s the final image the world sees before their screens go blank for the night. That’s…what I want, Rina. And until then, I’ll never know peace. I need this, sweets. I need to make it to Japan. Rumor has it that I might have to defend my belt for the third time.”


“Steph-”


“Yes, I know. I’m pretty much signing my death warrant. But I have to do this. If that match - or the one at FD is my swan song, then let it be known that I have no regrets about going on one last odyssey.”


“What about-”


“Monica knows. She…is kind of hating me right now, but promised to stand by my side. I…I have to go forward. I’ll never forgive myself if I back out now.”


“I’ll never understand the mindset of sports athletes.”


“It’s not hard. There are just some victories we’re willing to risk everything for.”


“Why?”


“Because that’s how we know we’re alive.”


Everyone wants answers. From Becky and April, right up to the bosses like Llorona and Scotty O himself. I won’t keep the world in suspense for long because I’ll have a speech worked out by this weekend. But as the hour of my final Odyssey match draws near, the question shouldn’t be why I did what I did…but how? How did I get away with screwing over a Clash winner and inserting myself into one of the biggest matches in women’s wrestling? Now you saw me Yahtzee the shit out of Ms. Filth and stake my claim into the Women’s World Championship match to reclaim a belt that would’ve remained with yours truly had not Little Miss Clash tried to take the easy way out. Yes, you heard right. I wouldn’t put it past Rebecca to choose April over me because she’s more confident about her chances with the Killer Bee, but now she has to deal with both of our asses. And just like Claudia Michaels, she’s going to learn the hard way why it’s not wise to get in between me and my greatest rival. 


Heh, don’t get jealous, Jaxon stans. I still have fond memories of my time fighting with and against ‘Ria. But, back to the point at hand. I got away with the crime of the century because of Bob Taylor - and later - Scott Oasis’ obsession with legal binding contracts. Whoever signs their name on the dotted line for a title match is in it, no matter what. Hell, Filth didn’t need to sign a goddamn thing, neither does the champ herself. If anything, Llorona shot herself in the foot with that segment and I took advantage of her folly. That’s what separates the veterans from the rookies, ladies and gentlepeople. Throughout my time on the pink brand I tried to reiterate the importance of knowing how this business works both inside and outside the ring. I warn both friend and foe to not sleep, because it’s the cousin of death. At any moment someone could get the drop on you and take what you’ve spent years busting your ass for. Hell, that’s how I lost the Women’s World Championship. At the blinding speed of a flashbang, I broke my promise to myself and the OWA faithful at large. But, I gave myself an extra life to get things right, a last chance to redemption. And speaking of flashbangs, I get to prepare for my final fight with none other than the Brilliant Brawler herself, Revy.


The McQueens and I have a…weird history, which runs deeper than you’d think. When I was training at the JET Dojo, I befriended Kevin Maverick who at the time was signed with RAW and was roommates with Moongoose. I didn’t know who that was at the time, but when Kev and I went back to his place, there was this weird Japanese girl staying with him. Apparently ‘Goose had some “business” to attend to and left his younger sister to run whatever business they were doing from the apartment. Kev told me the less questions I asked, the more likely I’d survive the summer. Whatever the hell that meant, I guess. As time went on, the weird girl - Revy - opened up to us, and started concocting an array of plans that involved us earning the ire of some dangerous people. I don’t regret those days, as it was a highlight of my young adulthood, but now I look forward. 


I announced my retirement from professional wrestling. My reasons are my own, but I was being honest when I said that I have nothing left to prove. But despite my honesty, there’s one last thing I want to accomplish, something that can never be replicated. More on that when the time is right, but this upcoming match with Revy will prepare me for my last dance. When I was asked who I wanted my final TV opponent to be, there wasn’t anyone else I could think of. Revy is one of the last remnants of the “Empire Generation”, an elite breed of women wrestlers who are slowly dying off year by year. Last year it was Aria, and now it’s my turn to step aside for the future. But not until I walk out of Japan as the undisputed GOAT of women’s wrestling and not until Revy shows me the fruits of her labor.


Rebecca McQueen is a woman who always has something up her sleeve. Her unpredictability has always kept us on our toes over the years, so she’s exactly the one I need to be fighting this weekend. People like Jonetta have underestimated her and have paid the price in one way or another. I paid the price by letting my guard down around Rebecca Filth. But now I know the truth:


Rebecca Filth fears Cloud Matsuda.


As for April? I have something to say, but I’ll save it for our big day. Until then, she can keep that belt warm for me, because she’s going to be the last woman to touch it before it’s given back to me. First, I’m going to dance with her best friend. This isn’t an act of malice - I’ve always liked Revy. Hell, I hate April a lot less these days. Maybe it’s because I recognize the karma in her beating me exactly four years after I stole the EAW Women’s Championship from her fingers. It is what it is, but the ship sails on. These last thirteen years have been quite the dream and before I wake up I’d like to end things on my terms. And if I have to disappoint my former World’s Fines stablemate, then so be it.


When I face Revy this weekend, I’ll be treating it as seriously as the title match itself. I respect her too much to see her as a pushover. She shared that Promethean Chamber with Jonetta, Becky Brookes, Llorona, Banshee, and myself. She has her own title match to prepare for, her own dreams to fulfill. All that’s left is to put on one hell of a show for the audience to enjoy. I’ve sailed the seven seas of this industry. I’ve acquired gold from every corner of the globe. I’ve fought the baddest of the bad and lived to tell about it. I’ve held my own against master martial artists, assassins, cult leaders, and literal demon lords. I’ve beaten self-proclaimed gods and so-called queens. I’ve fought beside hall of famers and living legends. I’ve done it all…except for one last thing. 


(Cloud looks at the camera, her gaze piercing the lens as if she’s staring into her opponent’s very soul.)


Revy? I need you right now. I need you to take me to a place traveled by many, but survived by very few. The place where I ended the careers of Cleopatra and Cailin Dillon. The place where I dethroned Claudia Michaels and ripped the American dream from her claws. The place where I pushed Aria Jaxon to the limit until she had nothing left and passed out alongside myself in the middle of Dodgers Stadium. Help me unleash the side of me that won six world titles, eight midcard titles, three tag titles, and a bucket of awards. Help prepare me to make history just one last time. There’s going to be a pale moonlight this Saturday, sweets…so let’s dance.


Know it. Understand it. Believe it. 


“Finished with your promo?”


“Yeah…”


“What’s wrong baby?”


“I…nothing. I’m just getting into that headspace of mine.”


“Gotcha. Want me to give you space until the weekend’s over?”


“Actually…I may need more than that. At least until it’s all over.”


“Anything you need, I’ll do for you. Just as long as you promise me something.”


“Yes?”


“Come back to me with those goddamn belts. Make everything worth it. You went through a lot, baby. I went through a lot- hell this god-forsaken business has tested our patience over and over. Make everything we’ve been through worth it by ending it all on your terms. I’ll be in our new home just down the road, in our new bed…waiting for you. Mi amor…the best to ever do it.”


“...”


“And one more thing.”


“Hmm?”


“Don’t die on me.”

Marie is sitting outside in a long black dress, her red hair scraped back into a braid, chatting with a woman in slow, halting French. They laugh, and trade small bags, Marie waving to her deck of tarot cards beside her and shaking her head. The woman laughs again and Marie presses a kiss to her fingers before holding it out to wave, and the woman leaves, Marie watching after her for a moment before looking over at the camera.

“Câlice. So much to say and yet so little was said. I say it says more about you to insult the women around you, and what do you come back with? I'm taking the high moral ground. I'm bragging. Good and evil. More petty bullshit. My favourite was the faux French accent. Cherie, for someone who claims Toronto as a favourite city, you don't seem to know very much about the country it's in. Let me explain for you, very slowly - the people of Quebec, some of whom you've probably met, are not all pulling an elaborate prank on you. French is my first language. I'm bilingual. You can start in Ontario, drive an hour in the wrong direction, and when you get out for help, the people at the gas station answer you in goddamn French. I could go on and on about the fille du roy and Acadie and the politics and the legacy of survival it all left but I have a suspicion I would be wasting my breath, so let's skip that."

Marie starts shuffling her cards, looking down the street at her retreating conversation partner. She lets out a sigh, though it’s hard to tell if it’s because of the woman, or because she can’t believe she’s got to explain this. 

"Yuna, I didn't say any of that to brag, or to be a hero. I've made it very clear I don't care to be one. I wanted you to look in the mirror for once. See what I see. But you are very right. Everyone here saw my match two weeks ago, when I lost my very first match here in OWA. It could have gone either way, but in the end, Felix did win. And I appreciate your humbling of me very much. Sacramouille, what kind of loser comes in to OWA and loses their debut? Ah... wait." 

She taps her fingers on her cards, grimacing painfully.

"That's right. You did too. Have you won, since arriving here? I don't mean to be cruel, I'm just wondering. I also wonder how long that illustrious house of yours will keep you here if you continue your streak."

She pulls a card, clucking her tongue.

"Ah, pas pire." She holds up the card, a man hanging from a tree by his ankle. "You know, this actually symbolizes a... gaining of wisdom. Hanged Man sounds so ominous, but do you see-" She points to the ankle. "he's not dying, it's a test of endurance. The posture is believed to come from the story of Odin, who did the same thing to receive the wisdom of the runes. He went through a test in order to bring wisdom not just to himself, but to mankind. He is one of the few father gods who is also a god of wisdom, a very interesting insight into..." She trails off, as if realizing she's gone on a tangent, and laughs.

"My point, cherie, or rather their point, the cards, is that sometimes you have to go through a gauntlet to gain wisdom. The only question, really, is who the card is meant for. I think I gained quite a bit from my last match. Did you? Do you ever just... learn? Turn that vicious gaze on yourself and think, maybe, just maybe, you have something to learn?"

She sets the card down and pulls another.

“No. Of course not. It’s always someone else. Someone cheating you, someone being mean to you, some slut, or tramp, or skank, because you can’t face the fact that you might have something to do with the outcome. And you move on, not learning a thing. Maybe this Saturday will finally get it through your head. Or maybe you’ll just call me a whore when I try to shake your hand after I win. We’ll see, hein?” 

She looks at her card, then slips it back into the deck with a secretive smile at the camera. The feed abruptly cuts.

Sunday May 1st, 10:00am. Osaka, Japan. 


An interviewer stands awkwardly in front of Marie, who is sitting cross legged in front of a bowl of burning herbs on a hotel balcony, apparently ignoring them entirely. Her hotel suite is strewn with empty wine bottles and puddles of wax where candles had once been, and so is the balcony. 

“Marie, can we ask you-"

Marie raises a hand, the smoke from her cigarette mingling with thick grey smoke from the bowl in front of her. She’s got a hand fan and is waving the smoke towards her. “It's called, uh... Beltane, or Hexennacht, depending on where you are and how much of a fuck you give about the three fold rule. Really fun. Nowhere to have a naked bonfire here, but we make due. Did you know there were witches in Osaka? Not just expats, either. Those pitoune... it's a good thing I'm not fighting until the 7th." She pauses. "Unless you meant what happened last week, in which case I think in English you would say, I got my shit rocked.”

“No. Well… no. Now that you’re out of the running for the Openweight Championship, can we get your thoughts on the Fatal Four-Way?”

Marie sighs and takes a drag off of her cigarette. “Hard to say. There’s still two matches to go, which means we can’t really say anything yet. For who we have now? My ego says Felix. I think if I had to lose my shot, I would like it to be to a champion. My heart? Probably Daisy. I like her attitude. My head says it’s too soon to guess. We have several newcomers to contend with, so who knows? I'll be watching, though. Good to know who I challenge next, hein?"

Marie smiles gamely and shrugs.

“And what about your next match? It was announced you’d face Yuna next week.”

“Câlice. It would be nice to fight someone who gives half a shit about the opponent she’s actually in the ring with, hein? I know I'm not in the running for a title now, fine, I lost, but couldn't they find someone who cares? I’m going to get in there, and all she’ll be thinking about is Ruri, last week all over again. I’m not a jealous woman, but Yuna isn’t in the running for the title anymore. She’s down in the muck with me, and she needs to recognize that. Come here.”

She motions to the camera and it zooms in, letting her speak directly to her opponent.

“Yuna, I hope you’ve got your shit together. I lost last week, but at least I was actually fighting Felix. I put on a show Toronto is never going to forget, I gave it my best, and I made them love me. I'm proud of that. And now that it’s over? I don’t give a shit about Felix. New city, new fight. I have too much dignity to follow after her, nipping at her heels, pretending she gives a shit about me. Dignity that you apparently don't have! Shit, I feel bad even doing this. I feel like I'm in a bathroom trying to shake self esteem into a drunk girl in the middle of the night!"

She takes a drag off of her cigarette and shakes her head in wonder.

"You're somehow managing to both be a sad sack, and a brat. Pretending to be the good guy and then scowling about how you'll stop being nice to get to your obsession, stop showing the respect your opponents deserve, the respect I gave Felix even though she has none for me. I didn't call her a "hookerbot" or a "tramp" just because I couldn't take the heat. You know why I never say I'm the good guy, Yuna? Why I don't do love and light and the three fold rule? Because the good guy has responsibilities. The good guy needs to act like it. I'm going to be up there, in Osaka, to beat down a Japanese wrestler and make her tap, and I bet I'll still have the crowd screaming for me purely because of how you've been acting. You liked Toronto, hein? Liked Canada? I'm glad. Because on the 7th, I'm going to give you a taste of home. La Corriveau is coming, Yuna." 

She drops her cigarette into the bowl of burning herbs, and the smoke in front of the camera thickens just a bit, giving her a dreamy, out of focus look.

"I'll be waiting in the muck, at the crossroads, if you have the guts to meet me."

 
(DT The Ruler is seen in his office in Hartford, Connecticut, looking at a black-haired shih tzu one of his female secretaries had on a short leash; the dog looked up at DT The Ruler for a moment, sitting obediently on the wood flooring, and the secretary crouched down to feed it a small treat)

I didn’t have to do much in Canada outside settle a personal matter as heartlessly as possible. Not going to lie: the man had it coming for attempting to ruin my image as a man of sophistication and high standards, standards most of OWA still fails to come within arm’s reach of. And now, what’s set to occur at the next edition of Kingdom, well that wasn’t my doing. And I’m glad it wasn’t, as I don’t want to have to resort to making hostile demands in order for me to establish a position in the mix for Championships, especially in a childish or excessively brutal way. And I promise you, if I ever have to go there, I can be very brutal. Getting my hands dirty I have no qualms about, but I prefer not to. Nonetheless, men in general feel a better sensation when Upper Management in a company does the right thing without being cornered, and in The Ruler’s case: it’s a title opportunity is given. There is one thing, though, that I am thankful for, and that is the fact that I’m not being forced to go against my associate and Business Partner, Mr. Raivo. I noticed all over this organization we have Asian People coming to blows all over Kingdom, and White People battling each other all over Olympus. It’s good to see the Black Men be the civilized and cooperative ones on both, contrary to what Mainstream Media wants you to believe. *laughs* And I am not surprised. We’ve always been a group of people who can stand unified if we tried harder to, but selfishness and the “Strong, Independent” hustler mentality tends to override common sense and Jolly Cooperation…outside maybe the Golden Yawn.


(The secretary picked up the shih tzu and sat down in the office chair with the animal, talking to it as if it were her child)

Now you may be wondering: why do I have a black-haired shih tzu here in my office? Well, the real reason is because it’s a gift for one of my lady “friends”; I picked it up on the way here from Montreal, and women love small animals, so why not? I can afford it, no big deal. But the other reason? More on that later. For now, though, I must focus on this coming title match, my first title match in OWA, being for the Outlaw Championship against Mr. Myojin and Mr. Jodan Jonouchi.

(DT The Ruler picks up some papers from his desk, outlining both of his opponents in terms of strengths and weaknesses noted by his secretaries)

A quick look at Mr. JoJo, a man I thought was in a match with myself a few weeks ago but spent more time backstage than at the ring, and I don’t know what to make of this character outside of the fact that he is very matter-of-fact in words and in wrestling style. And until much more recently, the man didn’t look like one with purpose or drive. Even in the non-interaction with them, that JoJo boy gave off the same level of motivation as a California surfer on Snoop Dogg weed, while being talked about on the same level as famous slackers like Ferris Bueller and Zack Morris. Now some may believe that must mean I’m completely dismissing Mr. Jodan, but I know better than to be like past opposition. I know wrestlers well enough to know that any one of them can instantaneously become threatening, especially after hearing what he had to say last week. Natural talent doesn’t beat hard work most of the time, but that talent manifesting at the best time can be difficult to overcome. Is Jodan J talented enough to force myself to take him more seriously in this Triple Threat, one I already forecast myself dominating from the get-go? Or is the man going to find a way to play hooky? We’ll see, though, if he’s about That Action or just pulling a LeBron on Twitter tactic with what he said on Kingdom. Because as we know: all men have is their word, and I take heed of every man’s words, not to mention title opportunities tend to ignite motivation like few things can. I’ll still scout him out a bit more because I like to be prepared rather than let off-guard.

And also: I agree about the Axe Body Spray. Cori Simmons needs to know deodorant spray doesn’t replace a shower.

(DT The Ruler put down the notes on his desk and then walked over to his secretary)

So now I look at one Mr. Myojin, the fighting champion of the Golden Yawn. (DT The Ruler picked up the black-haired shih tzu from his secretary's arms as it was finishing its dog treat; he then sat down in his office chair with it in hand) Now Mr. Myojin, I will start pretty surface-level with you going into the next edition of Kingdom before Final Destination and say the obvious: nothing personal over here. You and I have not interacted enough to have raging flames towards each other, but you do have something that I’d love to take as my own. Oh, not just your OWA Outlaw Championship, as that as a given, but your determination to prove your greatness to everyone. Your spirit is one seen in many athletes, and I’d love nothing more than to take your fighting spirit, put it in a Mason Jar, and have it on a shelf in my trophy room. I peeped your words towards the Woman before the Montreal event, and despite being the only champion in your friend circle, you still feel like you’re being slighted. (DT The Ruler looks at the shih tzu and feeds it a piece of a Beggin’ Strip from a cup on the table) The reason you in particular are slighted- and I use that term loosely because I don’t see it- is because simply: you are Arata the Terrorist’s adorable little dog. Now now, Mr. Myo, I don’t think you’re literally a dog- or adorable- but as long as you sit around while your owner, Arata, screams for title matches and is handed them unfairly, you will always be seen no different than any little pet like this one I hold for one of my lady “friends”, a creature someone like your other Master could comfortably fit in their purse and parade around after it’s well-groomed. I remember in my younger years when I was associated with a notorious group called the King’s Court, and in combination with tag teaming more than once with a man I despised, the only thing that gave people the idea that I was autonomous was winning my first World Title. The only way you will gain the respect other independent self-made men receive is to not accept the status of subordinate through actions suggesting such.

I doubt you’ll change, though.


But as we approach our first meeting in the ring, there is one thing I don’t want you to do. Well, two. Firstly, Mr. Myojin: please be civilized and don’t pee in or around the ring. There is a very big Outside for you to do so prior to our contest, so make sure Arata allows you to relieve yourself. The second thing, though, is to not pull a Stark move.

Oh, you don’t understand what that is? Let me explain.

After not wrestling on television for several years, The Ruler returned to the ring and one degenerate named Stark- you might know him- got a lucky win back in January, a win that he still carries around with him to this day like an actual Championship. And while I don’t blame him for holding a lucky win against The Ruler in high regard, the main reason he does is because everything else for him within the last few months have been a series of unfortunate events. Despite having just fought the Woman and the Terrorist for the OWA World Championship at Clash of the Titans, he couldn’t slither his unlucky ass into a World Title match again like your Owner managed to and decided to try and snake his way into business he does not belong in with myself and Mr. Raivo putting one Ali Gory in his place. And by the way, Mr. Stark: Mr. Raivo does not need to avenge me, as I am not a Man that piles unnecessary burdens on my associates. What he will do instead is put you down easy and successfully defend his Championship if forced to. I am confident in Mr. Raivo doing something you’ve failed to do recently and that is leave a PPV with a title in hand.

But back to the topic at hand: when you come to Kingdom and enter that ring to defend your Championship, don’t pull a Stark and believe you managing to get a win on paper against the Woman will mean much of anything. Don’t even think having a grocery list of Wrestlers worth mentioning means you have an advantage, as The Ruler has his own bucket of big names that have been… “coronated” in that ring. I saw you and the Golden Yawn pull off your B-Tier chicanery, and while I am not 100% opposed to such tactics, you best not make it appear like you toppled some giant with your bare hands. Get it how you live, they say. Do what you must by any means necessary, as the great Malcolm X inferred when speaking of more important things. But live in the truth as well, and that truth is despite not wanting to be seen as another mongrel in your squad, you made yourself look like an absolute bitch last event with what you did to the Woman. And I know the commentators made it sound like you beat some God, but be honest is what I ask of you.

Whether you move truthfully or not does not matter, though, as when you come to the ring to defend your title against The Ruler, I’m not one to sit back and assume you’ll be less bite than bark after that display against the Woman. But as a Professional, a veteran who understands what to expect from every dog in this business, rabid or not, and as an actual man of greatness whose fought and muzzled many others, I know not to treat you like how myself and my secretary treat this shih tzu. See I treat this small creature with kid gloves and tender loving care, feeding it lightly, holding it with respect for its existence before passing it on to the next person. But you, Myojin, as my opponent better come ready to face an actual monster beyond your previous contenders. I promise I will hurt you, Myojin, and I will hurt you really badly, first so you understand that I am your main Master and Ruler, but also so you feel what it’s like to struggle against someone legitimate who wants Championship glory again. And after I hurt you and JoJo and take the OWA Outlaw Championship as my own, I will make sure to put a leash around your neck so Arata and Daito can take care of you as I celebrate.
 
 

"Hey. Hello. Hi. Hola. Konichiwa."

A fist knocks on the screen, hard, before a scowling James Diamond appears in frame.

"Where are you, The Landerson? Why the hell haven't you shown your ridiculous face? You realize this isn't some sort of game that I'm just messing around with because I'm bored, right? This is my life and I'm not about to let you make a mockery of it. See, I did you a favour, The Landerson. I did you a favour by coming out first and letting you know exactly what I was all about. I was the professional here and with our match just days away I'm left with nothing. There was very little indication that you were a professional anything to begin with, let alone a professional wrestler, but I guess somewhere in the back of my mind I gave you the benefit of the doubt. I thought, 'Hey, this guy might be an absolute joke, be completely whipped by family, be an utter disgrace to this profession but maybe... he'll have the courtesy to actually stand in front of a camera and say something. Anything. Just to make me feel like this match is going to be something more than a text book burial.' But, alas, here we are with nothing but silence. You're ghosting me, The Landerson, and to say that I'm pissed off is putting it far too lightly."

James Diamond roughly grabs the lens of the camera with one hand and holds it close to his face as he seethes and grits his teeth as he speaks.

"You see, Landerson, all the under cutting jokes and jabs aside you've made your second mistake in as many weeks. The first one, of course, was ever agreeing to this match with me. The second one was deciding you're better off jumping on a trampoline practicing your ridiculous flips instead of acknowledging me as the threat that I am. I might be new to OWA and maybe you and the rest of locker room has failed to grasp exactly what has happened here. When I say that, you need to look into my eyes and realize that it's not just some blow off catch phrase that doesn't actually amount to anything and I'll just fade off quietly into the night and be forgotten in a matter of days. No, I'm the best damn technical, professional wrestler that this world has ever seen and I fully intend on showing you exactly what changing the landscape of OWA really means. But here's a taste, Landerson. For me, what that sentence means is I intend to end careers of anybody that stands in my way. It's going to change the landscape because once I'm done with this roster of wannabes and spot monkeys there isn't going to be anything left. This is going to be some real scorched Earth shit, Landerson. I had intended on toying with you a bit when we stepped into the ring. You know, let the three fans of yours get all excited because you did some stupid ass flip, pretend that it affected me and really play it up to those idiots marks bulging out of their seats in the arena. Really put you over, as they say. Right before I pull the rug out from under you and start picking you apart, piece by ridiculous piece. I'm going to hurt you in ways that you didn't think were possible right before i shut your lights out. Then, Landerson, as your blurry vision tries to focus on the rafters and I'm standing above you with my hand raised you're going to slowly realize exactly what you got yourself into: you made the dumbass mistake of getting yourself mixed up with a bonafide career ender and I absolutely promise you that when everything is said and done this Sunday you're never going to be the same again."

Without warning, the camera is violently shoved to the ground, cutting the fed.

Kazuya, your juvenile dreams are bound to be shattered when we meet in the land where this all began for the both of us and inside its greatest arena, The Tokyo Dome.

Wrestle Spirit and Strong Style Wrestling has decided to make its way into The Omega Wrestling alliance and you believe that this is supposed to be some sort of revelation for me to renege on the vow I took to claim this Immortal Heavyweight Championship in the first place? Do you believe you’re going to bring forth some salvation through my defeat? Pathetic, Kazuya. Only a child would believe that this deal was anything more than a rebirth of the man who walked through the halls of the greatest wrestling companies known to this industry. The most ruthless individual who would make sure every person in his path was stomped out on his desire for conquest in world championship glory. The unmatched cunning of a man who could systematically bring forth the downfall of a person who believed themselves to be so superior, in any capacity of human aptitude, and show them exactly what a superior wrestler was through experience. A man who has experienced every possible outcome this industry could deliver unto a person and has found a way to be able to overcome those potentials to persevere until the next opportunity arises to be claimed and conquered. I’ve tarnished my legacy through accepting this Faustian pact and selling my soul to a devil who has been able to establish a bloodline of kings who has been famed in glory for millennia? You know that to be the farthest thing from the truth, but somewhere between the moment you entered into the Doomsday Triple Cage to now where you’ve decided to be granted an opportunity at my championship because of a contract you failed to seize the opportunity on to not only take this championship, but bring forth some false salvation you’ve prophesied? Not happening. The only thing that was tarnished was The Dynasty when every single second I had to swallow the bitter pill of being left as a shadow to each and every single one of my false brothers. I had to bite my tongue and watch leeches, who I had done everything in my power to hoist and propel into the heights of world championship excellence to be respected and revered for the prestige they were destined to capture, flounder and fail at every opportunity presented to them after Darkane’s championship defeat. I had to be made a martyr at Hardcore Havoc because when the rest of you let your pride decide to succeed the mission of prestige our brotherhood, where were you or anyone else for that matter to save Naheem or to be there when I was in need? Nowhere as we were forced to be outnumbered and overwhelmed to lose everything I had put my entire being into making happen for us with the Prestige and Tag Team Championship taken away from us. If that was a one-time instance, maybe I would have forgiven this offense, but it wasn’t. The same thing would happen inside of The Doomsday Triple Cage because where were any of you to provide any aid when attempting to fend off the foes who had made me a tribute to their cause inside of that match? Again, nowhere but looking to make sure to stroke your ego and make a name for yourselves. That’s where I drew the line. That’s when I knew the writing on the wall and through the experiences in this industry I had gained after over a decade of performing for many promotions throughout the world, I knew none of you had respected the sacrifices I had made for The Dynasty and only thought of yourselves in hopes of gaining glory, not that week by week, I was becoming more of a mockery and a joke to this entire sport every single step of the way. No longer. I’m no longer bound to be a joke because I have been reborn. A resurgence has been gifted thanks to this contract created with the devil itself, a rebirth of the legend I once was instead of the humble creator who wanted to make the future of this industry with his learning tree of knowledge to bestow upon those who sought it, and you will soon come to realize this at Wrestle Spirit when you have to fight in a war with me until the death of your pride has been shown to the entire world. In order to be reborn into this form and take on the body of my prime to be able to defeat the warriors who had written me off for so long, sacrifices are to be made. Just as I had sacrificed my own legacy, my own reputation, and my own prestige to be able to make sure The Dynasty was seen as the grand brotherhood we were supposed to be known as, The Dynasty would be the ones to be the scapegoat of this tribute. I had given myself to this brotherhood for long enough and what did I have to show for it? People believing Darkane was superior to me because I had stood in the shadows to allow him the luxury to be the great champion he was? I was left to be ridiculed at every single opportunity as some old washed-up version of myself because I was the martyr of our brotherhood to allow the success of everyone else in The Dynasty? I was no longer going to be the sin eater of this brotherhood and The Dynasty, it had to be cost to be able to return to the former glory I once basked in. Lo and behold, I now sit on the throne of immortality as the champion of this promotion and even though I have only done what any other given the opportunity would have taken to receive this championship, you among others have vilified me for it. However, you claim to not be the valiant hero to save Olympus from the doom it has created for itself?

Don’t make me laugh.

Whether you want to accept this role as the intrepid savior of Olympus from the accursed champion who hopes to bring doom to the masses or not, this is the role you have been placed in by attempting to dethrone me from my seat of champion and take this trophy away from me. You have assumed this part to play in the grand story to be played out here and the sad thing is, I was the one who created this hero to be slain. Heroes have no place in the wasteland of doom to be left of this promotion during my reign at the throne of immortality and due to your desire to bring forth a form of salvation in stripping me of what belongs to me alone, you will be brought to shame and destruction at your very doorstep. At your very own home in the land of Tokyo, inside of the grandest stage they could place our encounter within at the Tokyo Dome, you will be forced to not meet the man who will have created you into the warrior you have become. The man who did that died when this pact was sealed, but you will meet the man who has been reborn as the conqueror of men who dare defy his edicts and punish them through violent brutality and carnage upon their flesh to the point of no return. You want me to come to terms with my supposed role within The Dynasty and what was that, Kazuya? You want me to be some coach to stay on the sidelines and never experience the illustrious glory of world championship prestige? You want me to simply be your shadow to follow you around, stand at ringside as your cheerleader, and never achieve the desires that remain within my very soul to be where I rightfully belong at the top of this industry with no man to even hope to challenge for that right? No, I’m not going back. I’m not going back to be left in the shadows of obscurity and you will realize when we have our battle that you made a mistake to even try to do that because I’m not there to have some instant classic with you to be remembered through the years that past as one of the best matches in either of our careers, but I’m there to break you down to a shell of your former self. This match is where I’m determined to reduce you back down from this warrior I had created to be the future of this industry to be the mere child who would have never amounted to anything without my guidance in the first place. I will destroy the very creation I made and there’s nothing you will be able to do about it when the time comes, Kazuya. You believe the man who was behind the formation of The Dynasty was the real Jacob Senn. The man who taught you everything you know about being a warrior within the ring was Jacob Senn at his purest form. You truly believe these past two years have been me at my most authentic self, don’t you? You are sorely mistaken. At the time I didn’t realize it myself, but I was wearing a mask and pretending to be something I was never meant to be. A creator of the future to be made in my own image. An engineer of the next pillars of this industry from my own mind to bring a resurrection of prestige that has been lost in this industry for so long. I’m not a creator of the destinies for other men to achieve, I’m a destroyer of dreams and destinies created to make sure that my own destiny manifests in the way I demand it to be made. I’m a man who conquers the people who have these juvenile aspirations to be the hero, to be the face of a company that people flock around, and to be the legendary name that everyone harkens back to with fond memories to lay my claim at the greatest to ever step foot in this business. I punish those who have been foolish enough to look at this business through rose-tinted glasses and right now, you’re one of those people who have done that. You see me for something I’m not and what I needed to resurrect after the death The Dynasty had brought to me. You are my student. You are the man I let rest under the learning tree to teach you everything you know and taught you how to conquer potential obstacles to stand in your path to achieving everything you have set out to do in your career, but you will find the samurai blade gifted unto you to slay those beasts will not work on me. I taught you everything you know, but I never taught you everything I know. Your blade was forged through guidance, but mine was forged through battle. Your steel was tempered through mentorship, my steel was tempered through bloodshed. The path you walked to become the warrior that you are was made through honor, prestige, and rigorous training at my hand to mold you into the warrior you have become today. The path I walked? The man I became through that path was made through devious cunning, ruthless brutality, and the blood of fallen enemies to be the man famous across this industry as a head collector. You believe it’s time for you to be the ace? Time for you to step up against your sensei and claim the crown that has eluded you for so long? Go ahead because I’ll make sure the arrow you fire becomes broken beyond repair as your final failed shot.

Your defiance will be met with brutal punishment.

( the scene opens on the Olympus interview set. Chief reporter Hugh Jass stands by with a microphone in his hand.)

Hugh Jass: Ladies and Gentlemen please welcome my guest at this time, he is the man who will be defending the OWA Prestige Champion, The Romani King Mark Michaels.

( Mark Enters the scene accompanied by Harman Ardelean. His looks is loose and  confident, yet ready for a fight.)

Hugh Jass: Gentlemen thank you for joining me today. 

Harman Ardelean: Ay Hugh my boy, come and listen to the words from on high. Var has blessed us with swag and style. The drip here on Marco’s wrist is second only to the one on his waist. And when this here blinged out Romani King is standing in a spotlight, no one can shine any brighter. 

Mark: Damn straight Harman. Hugh it’s good to see you, But can I get a word to the people real quick? WHERE’S MY JAPANESE GYPSIES AT?

( The typically polite and quietly respectful crowd cheers Raucously.)

Mark: TOKYO!!! THE KING HAS RETURNED!!!  And tonight he is feeling all the love you’ve been giving him this whole tour. Hearing all of you cheering for me, seeing the streamers when I enter the ring, the standing ovations after the bell has rung, I am so grateful words cannot express how much it means. Y’all showed me love here, and I’m gonna show it right back to you tonight in the ring when I put my prestige championship on the line. 

Hugh Jass:  Well since you brought up the title match, Mark, you’ve been very vocal about your desire to defend your Prestige Championship at Final Destination 4. You defend that same title tonight against an incredible athlete in Corey Matthis. My question for you is how do you pace yourself in order to be at 100 percent for Final Destination when it’s possible that a loss here tonight means you miss out on the show of shows?

Mark: Hugh my man, ever since Scott Oasis decided that Olympus wasn’t gonna have equal representation at Final Destination, everyone and their mother has been a little on edge wondering if they’ll be on the card. but to me, I grew up with pressure turned all the way up to 11. I grew up with the landlord wanting his rent, the phone bill past due, and no way other way than to wake up, get out, and get something. But those day molded me, and taught me a very valuable lesson. I learned a long time ago that hustle never sleeps.  And so long as you’re breathing you got a chance to get what you want if you work your ass off for it. You know We just celebrated the four year anniversary of OWA, which was a hell of a party by the way.  Tonight we have a Wrestle Spirit resurrection, one that has the fans here tonight at a fever pitch. And of course it goes without saying that Final Destination is nearly here. Do you know what that all means?  It means that while most would be looking to coast along and let the chips fall where they may, me and everyone aboard the cosmic caravan aren’t slowing down a bit.  Not Harman, not the twins, not Big George, and not all those people cheering us on. Not when every event left on this season’s schedule has the potential to be one that makes history here in OWA.  When every moment in that ring can live forever in infamy. So if anybody was expecting less than Mark Michaels going full tilt, I’m sorry to disappoint. I can’t go half speed, half hearted, half cocked, especially when I just told Corey Matthis that you can’t grow complacent when you’re a champion.  And you know that The Romani King leads by example. So again I repeat, hustle don’t sleep. 
  
 Now you asked about being at 100 percent when Final Destination rolls around? The short answer is I gotta smarter not harder. I gotta take every bit of the wisdom I learned hustling in the streets, I gotta remember every lesson that was taught to me in wrestling school, I gotta pull out every trick I’ve learned being a student of the game all these years, and a few more I’ve picked up in the big time of professional wrestling. You’re right to call Corey Matthis an amazing athlete, there’s a reason this guy got called up from OWT with sky high expectations. There’s a reason why I wanted to give Corey the biggest platform he could when he made his debut. He has great potential, but he hasn’t lived up to it, not yet. There’s still a few lessons to learn, and a long road he’s gonna have to travel before he’s truly a top dog around here, and it looks like I’m gonna have to make him learn the hard way. 

Hugh Jass: We’ll if it isn’t too much to ask, without giving too much away, would you elaborate on exactly how you intend to work smarter in your match?

Mark: Well for starters I don’t think Corey has ever been in the ring with any one as well rounded as I am, and that’s why I give him so much trouble whenever we match up. I can stand toe to toe and slug, just as well as I can put on an old school catch as catch can classic. So that means at a moment’s notice I can change up tactics, and switch up my style to whatever I want or need it to be. I can quicken the pace with a few lariats that will make Matthis feel like he just got run over by a steam roller. then slow things down by picking him apart with rights and lefts that will come at him faster than a bullet train running at top speed.  Hell how bout  the fact that the majority of his offense is set up around a standing opponent. Well the obvious strategy is to score a takedown and hold Corey down on the mat like Romani sand trap. Then start to Whittle away his strength with a either the figure four or the Gypsy curse.  let’s see if Corey can match me on the canvas because chin lock may not look like a whole lot, but when you got 250 pounds of weigh rearing down on you, it takes a hell of a lot of energy to get your ass up off the mat. Don’t expect me to allow Corey to get comfortable out there at any time. Im gonna keep him guessing, and when he’s out trying to figure out what’s my next move, that’s the moment he gets put down with the Crowning Achievement. 

Hugh Jass: Now both of you are coming into this match each having competed in championship matches last week. You obviously were successful in defending your title against El Landerson, meanwhile Corey came up short in his Icarus title match against Ryo Sakazuki. How do you expect those matches to factor into both you and Corey’s mindsets tonight?

Mark: Well one of the first things you learn as a professional athlete in any sport, is that you can’t dwell on what happened last week. You can’t get too happy about a win last night that you lose today, much the same way you can’t let a loss throw you off your game. That said, a guy like Corey with an ego that big, well between him seeing the roll I myself have been on, and the idea of what him losing back to back championship matches would do to his outlook here in OWA, that might make him a little desperate. Huge do you know what a desperate man is capable of?

Hugh Jass: Why no. 

Mark: The answer is anything. Not that Corey ever needed a reasonto pull some underhanded cheep shot bullshit like a little bitch. You see I know guys with the kind of mindset as Corey Matthis, his cockiness, his attitude, his outright willingness to say fuck everyone just to get what he wants. Hell, in another life I practically was Corey Matthis. So when I see Corey having to face reality that he isn’t as good as he thinks he, I don’t think he can handle it mentally to admit his ass got beat twice in back to back weeks in high profile matches. In his mind It would put a whole new context on that little clean sweep nickname am I right? Not to mention it’ll  make Scott Oasis look like an even bigger goof for courting him into that knock off Lamar Ball bullshit.  So deep down Corey has to be at least a little anxious, a little concerned, and just a bit more desperate. 

Harman: I’d say you got that boy pegged Marco. 

Mark: So knowing that, I expect Corey to throw  every shady move in the book at me. I’m counting on Him bending every rule, scratch that. I expect him to shred the rule book, and toss what’s left over into the furnace in order to get a win tonight. It means that much to him. A desperate Corey Matthis is a dangerous one no doubt, But even if that’s the card he’s gonna play, well that’s fine by me.  I grew up find ways to get around rules. It was simply a way of life literally. If you weren’t cheating, you weren’t eating. So as much as I think that me and Corey can steal the show here tonight by putting on a classic in the ring, I would have no problem getting my hands dirty. Just remember that all the pain and hardships I’ve endured over the course of this season says I’m the toughest bastard in that locker room. I’ve bled, I’ve been bruised, and that says nothing about all the times I’ve been written off as being finished once and for all only to get back up and back on the grind. It’s why I’m standing here tonight, it’s why I’ve got gold around my waist, it’s why my destiny is in my own hands, and it’s why when that bell rings Corey Matthis is gonna HAIL TO THE KING BABY!!! And before you ask me to elaborate, that means I’m gonna beat his ass in that ring.

( Mark pats Hugh on his shoulder before he walks off the set.)

Hugh Jass: Well the champion seems ready for this match here later tonight, for now we throw it back to you guys in the booth.

(With that the shot fades out.)

PresCorp Labs is where the magic happens. No, not actual magic because that would be dumb. Nobody in this world needs to be any more powerful than anyone else and that's one of the reasons why Remington Ivory Prescott has opened up this particular venture into the world of technological experimentation.

Also, do you know how much money tech firms make? Gobs. Fucking gobs.

Anyway, we're standing just inside the entrance to PresCorp Labs where dozens of people are milling about in an attempt to get the place up and running. They are still in the process of trying to get everything up and running, building this and connecting that, labcoats and construction gear and everything in between seem to be working their asses off to get this place into operating shape.

Remington Ivory Prescott steps into the building with all of the expensive taste just dripping off of him. He's followed by Adora Kincaid, who is popping her pink bubblegum as usual, and Monster Truck, who is trying to solve a four-colored Rubix Cube. The last person to enter is the woman behind putting all of this together, she was also the one holding the door open for them, Randi Moss.

"Welcome to PresCorp Labs."

Remington raises an eyebrow as he looks around. He's not impressed.

"I'm not impressed."

Told you.

"I've known you for years, Remington. You're never impressed."

Randi rolls her eyes and motions with her hands to the space. Which, at a couple of glances, looks like some kind of mix between the beginnings of the Batcave, the basement of Tony Stark, and the prestige of Lex Luthor. The whole color scheme seems to be an interesting combination of purples and greens as well.

"Go on. Look around. Truck? Don't touch anything."

Randi's words are followed by a wagging finger as she gives them a chance to wander around the lab. Adora shrugs and pops her gum as she heads off to check out some computers being installed. Monster Truck is so consumed by his toy that he barely even registers the words, choosing to lean against something (which creaks under his inhuman size) and continue trying to solve this toy.

As for Remington, well, he sticks close to Randi so they can talk more specifics.

"I don't know if this is enough room."

"You have sublevels. Seven of them, actually. Each one dedicated to a particular scientific field so that you may be better equipped to deal with..."

"The anomalies."

"Exactly."

"Staffed?"

"Fully. Well, almost. We've got hundreds of the top scientists, engineers, and tech gurus all ready to get to work but we're still trying to narrow down the head of all this. Someone has to keep this ship running while we're taking care of all our other business."

"I have a couple of ideas on that. I'll float you the names. Give them anything they want."

Remington looks around again. The more he listens and the more he chats about this, the more he seems to be coming around to the idea of all this.

"What's the ETA on this? How soon can we start?"

"I've had these people working around the clock so we should be up and running by the time you get back from Wrestle Spirit."

That causes Remington to look up with a bit of a grin. He likes that turnaround time very much.

We take a moment to pan over in the direction of some of the workers that are being accosted by Adora. She's just touching stuff to mess with him but none of them are willing to actually stand up to her. That's too much to deal with, honestly. She actually looks up and offers Remington a nod of approval. She likes it.

Another look in the direction of Monster Truck and his triumphant display of celebration is cut short when he realizes only three of the four colors match on his Rubix Cube. The frustrated fist breaks off a piece of the column that he was leaning against.

Remington rolls his eyes and looks back over to Randi.

"Maybe a couple of days after you get back from Wrestle Spirit."

Adora blows a bubble, Randi facepalms, Remington looks eternally annoyed while Monster Truck looks obliviously confused.

"What? What I do?"

---