"The more I think about it, Ryo, the more I realize that I've grown tired of you and this pathetic attempt to solidify yourself as a professional wrestler. This is an industry that sits atop the backs of those that came before us, even before me if you can believe it--figured I'd beat you to the punch with some half-assed old joke. It's evolved and grown, exponentially, over time as things tend to do but at the core it's still about wrestling. It's about having something  that puts you above everybody else and allows you to stand among giants..."

James sighs. He sits in a comfortable looking chair, his back to the camera. In front of him his a large television, playing through some old wrestling match from a long defunct promotion. The room is dark and the sound is muted. 

"It's something that you simply don't have, Ryo. You were a paper champion--and still are, if you count that SSW belt you're carting around, unless you stole that from somebody too--and you are a snot nosed, whiny crybaby of a man who can't seem to get over his own hubris long enough to take stock of what you really are. In between all the bitching and moaning you do, constantly, there are whispers of truth. I find it extremely hard to believe that you're not aware of what you are and instead have chosen to lie to yourself and put on this mask that you've presented to OWA. Albeit it's not a very good one, considering, you know, your personality. At this point, I find it hard to mentally class you anywhere among the roster here in OWA, even our old buddy Landerson at least feels like he's at least an amateur wrestler, chasing a crazy dream, even if he's had a dozen or so too many concussions along the way. But you... you're not even that. You're playing at this like a trust fund baby who decides to pick up a new hobby because no matter what you do you have Daddy's money to fall back on. So you can pick up something, try for a while, then grow bored when you realize it's something else that you don't have the talent for and toss it aside before moving on to the next thing. But that's what bugs me, Ryo. Why are you still trying? What's the point? You've had a few pity championships discarded in your direction, you've clearly amassed your fifteen minutes of fame, such as it is, and even you have seen the ceiling hanging above you, preventing you from doing anything more in this business but you keep showing up. You know what I think, Ryo? I think you've realized that this really is your last hurrah and you're desperately clinging on to it for all you're worth."

Something happens in the match, the lights flash and flicker momentarily illuminating the room. The match, now out of focus, seems to settle and James shifts in his seat. 

"For all the times I've thought you were just a garden variety idiot, I think the light at the end of the tunnel is becoming blinding, even to you. Granted, since they seem to be in vogue right now, it's not salvation it's more like that old Metallica song about the light in the tunnel actually being a train, coming full steam towards you, but still. You know your time is running out. So you attacked me after our match at Final Destination, like a coward, and stole my property to prolong, even if it's only for a few weeks, the inevitable. That train coming toward you, if I may be so bold, is me, Ryo. If you decide to put up your SSW title to, I'll gladly take that from you too if only to rub salt in the wounds. But at the end of the day, your time is up. The train has come and it's time to close your eyes, spread your arms and accept it. After this next match, win or lose..."

Muffled snickering briefly interrupts the thought, before James composes himself.

"...I'm done with you and your career here in OWA is over. You're not needed here any longer because you have nothing to add. Go be somebody's personal assistant and carry their shit from place to place and run their errands, go start a podcast, start a J-pop group with Landerson, go greet those snaggle-toothed weirdos that shop at Walmart... I don't care. Whatever you do, do it elsewhere. You're boring, useless and I'm done with it. See you at War and Thunder, Ryo. Get your affairs in order."

The television suddenly cuts, shrouding the room in darkness as the feed ends.  

The moment has finally arrived and the death of the dreams a certain Romani King has of conquering great evil to stand tall as the triumphant new OWA Immortal Heavyweight Champion… they are about to be shattered in front of a worldwide audience to bear witness to.

This is the moment you have been biting at the bit for years to be able to have and that’s a chance at immortality. You went ahead and said it yourself that you’re a hungry lion that’s pacing back and forth, watching the gazelle of an opportunity that is drinking at the watering hole, hoping to pounce upon it and feast for the very first time in your career. The anxious anticipation of this moment is making you itch for the opportunity to snatch this championship up and claim it for yourself, but let me tell you that you may be a lion, but I’m the hyena. I’m the vulture. I’m the carrion who will make his way over to the corpse that you will become when you are locked inside of the Thundercage will me and devour all the hope you have to take what rightfully belongs to me. War and Thunder will not be a night of triumph for you, Mark. It will be the end of this fever dream that everyone has been a part of, believing you to be someone worthy to even challenge me for this championship, and return you to the harsh reality that you’ve never deserved to be called world champion in any world this industry has to offer where you and I have shared the same space. This moment you have probably been dreaming about since you were a child, the opportunity to make every sacrifice and brutal match you have been forced to endure worth it at the end of the day, it’s not going to happen. I have built a legacy on making those dreams not happen for the aspiring heroes of wishful thinking be left in ruin once they have experienced the anguish I provide to them for crossing my path. You will be no different and I have already listed a litany of some of the greatest talents who stepped foot in a wrestling ring who dared to do this and failed, so I won’t repeat myself to you with this. I’ve given you every single opportunity to turn away from this match, every chance to recant your words and recognize the might I possess as The Almighty Pariah of this industry, but your vain stubbornness has denied you the opportunity to seek that source of salvation to your body and career. Pride cometh before the fall, they say, and your fall is only mere moments away from happening. Faith pushes you forward to what will only be the cataclysm of your dreams, but that faith will only lead you to the damnation you had hoped to stray far away from and live in your nightmares. Obscurity, irrelevancy, failure, these words will be what haunt you for the rest of your natural life when this match is said and done. Pushing your body to the limits and forcing them to be exceeded to the point where your body cries out through the searing pain you endure for mercy, that suffering will be the sight of the sheep of this industry will be left with you while you are trapped inside the cage with a devil such as me.

The only problem with that and regret I will have is that I won’t have an eternity to punish you for the arrogance you have displayed towards me, Mark. I only have this match and one night to make a statement to you.

You believe that fortune favors the best and in a way, you’d be correct, but for you to be the best of this industry? A fairy tale you have created to stoke the vanity and pride you have walking into this match. There is only one person who can claim to be the best wrestler in this entire industry and at War and Thunder, he is your opponent. The reigning OWA Immortal Heavyweight Champion stands above the rest as the greatest wrestler in this industry, this championship serving as my crown to prove that statement to be correct, along with the litany of world championship reigns through various different promotions to legitimize that statement. You can take the line of “fortune favors the bold”, because you are definitely that. Take all the risks and chances that you want, do whatever you believe is right and step into this cage to deal with the great evil of this business if that’s what you wish, but to draw the line in the sand and determine yourself to be the best? Only a man of vanity such as yourself would claim that without the proper accolades and experiences to merit such a title. Men who share the same ideals of you that because of the struggles you endured for a year that you are worthy to be called the best of this industry, or the way your talents have been enhanced by sharpening iron with iron against the talent this industry contains with it make you believe the greatness you portray, you are the exact reason why I am determined to usher in an age of calamity upon this industry. Too many men hold the same belief that you do, too many people have allowed these claims to be made without any substantial evidence to legitimize it, and everyone has now deluded themselves to the point of calling themselves a god when they are only weak and mortal men who are beneath the throne of prestige I sit upon. The industry I once knew has died to the people who currently stand around me as peers, bringing the stench from the miasma of vanity to choke out the true wrestlers of this business that are left out of existence, but I hope to resurrect from the shallow grave you have thrown it into.

For when this industry has been brought to ruin through the calamity I create and the destruction I leave in my wake, I will usher in a kingdom in His name worthy of prestige and glory and remain immortalized in history.

There will be no stopping this ascension of calamity that is set to be delivered unto you, Mark. You may have improved in your talents, you may have become a man who carries the traits of a hero whether he wants to claim that title or not, but deep within your soul you will always be the same Mark Michaels that I remember from the first day I met you. There’s a reason I have always looked down upon you, Mark. There is a reason why I have always known that you would never be the guy that this industry should hand main events towards on a grand scale, never win a world championship to make your legacy remembered to the world, and why I always have known you would never be able to stand a chance against top talent of this industry. You don’t have the merit or renown to be able to achieve your lofty aspirations that you have placed upon yourself. You don’t have the talent to break through the glass ceiling that hangs above you no matter where you end up because quite frankly, you’re mediocre at best. Sure, you can be able to degrade and tarnish a Prestige Championship here and there with your corrosive touch. You can pick up lower-tier trophies to make yourself feel accomplished or put on a match that the sheep will call a classic against some of the premier talent of this industry, but none of it will place you on the same realm of prestige that someone of my name possesses. No matter the passion that you may possess to push you and drive you past what you have previously been forced to relent against, no matter the determination that you have to walk out with the victory or the world championship resting upon your shoulder to let you know that everything you have done has finally been worth it, it will not change the fate you will have placed upon yourself every single time you reach out for what is too far away for you. You say that I don’t have a clue about who you are, but when we enter the Thundercage and the only people inside of that structure are you and me, I think the world will finally see you for what I know you to be Mark Michaels. It won’t be the person who sits at the head of the table that everyone around him should acknowledge as the best this business has to offer. It won’t be as the new world champion that has finally broken through the barriers that were placed before him to prevent him from reaching those heights. It certainly won’t be as the triumphant and conquering hero who slayed the great evil who has been preaching about the great calamity he intends to bring upon the entire industry.

You will be another tribute that has been delivered to me by this company. You will be another poor soul that has been fed to the great beast to keep him content as he sits upon his throne of prestige. You will join a collection of people whose destiny has only been to suffer against me and fail at the opportunity to take what they desired from me. You will only be left in obscurity, forgotten inside a pit of irrelevancy, and made into another victim you have fought so desperately to not become.

I’ve given you plenty of apt opportunities to remove yourself from this match, Mark. I’ve given you the evidence from those who have walked the same path you walked for what destiny awaits should you choose to continue this path you have decided to walk upon, but you have chosen at every crossroads to continue on the same path they took. You continue to remain arrogant in spite of what awaits in this match. You remain vain in the fact that you believe this match will bring forth the dream you have created for yourself into reality for the entire world to witness, but this will not be the case. You will only be met with agony, bitter disappointment, and failure once the cage door has been shut with no escape in sight. I may bleed for the acts that you are able to accomplish inside of that ring, I may endure pain from what you do to me in an attempt to claim this crown of the OWA Immortal Heavyweight Championship from its rightful owner, but I know there will be nothing you can do to be able to break me and force me to taste the bitter pill of defeat in this match. The time for proud proclamations and passionate decrees of victory from you will be over. The grandstanding and bold words will be replaced with utter silence and humiliation in the same vein as all of those before you were left with at the end of the day. The power and determination you are so proud of yourself with will be eliminated in one fell swoop as my reign pushes forward to the moment where calamity overtakes this industry in His name. When the dust settles, the carnage has ceased, and the cage is lifted back up into the heavens to release us from our war, you will realize what the entire world should already know by now.

I am the constant of this industry. I am the standard that every wrestler hopes to reach. I am The Goetial King who sits upon the throne of prestige as the greatest wrestler this industry will ever see and my legacy will remain… immortal.

Unknown location. The camera slowly zooms out from seemingly endless water, shining in the mid-day sun. As the camera zooms out, a railing comes into focus, followed by James Diamond. He casually and nonchalantly leans on the rail, staring out across the water. He looks disinterested, but relaxed. The sharpness that OWA has come to know from James Diamond is there, but there is an air of longing and a focus that's maybe not set on the present day. He sighs, long and deep, taking in the crisp ocean air. For once, though, he doesn't turn towards the camera.

"Here we are again, Ryo Sakazaki. Weeks, months maybe, have flown by in the blink of an eye and things have changed. Noah Reigner is no more. I've knocked the crown off his head, dusted it off and placed it atop my own head, as the new Ace of OWA. That's great, really. But... it seems, I don't know, expected? The Noah Reigner that I beat in the middle of an OWA ring just wasn't the Noah Reigner of legend. He wasn't eight feet tall and he certainly didn't shoot thunderbolts from his ass. He was a shell of a man, clinging to a battered crown with all the strength he had left. If anything, I probably did him a favor."

James sighs again, staring off at nothing.

"But back to clever Ryo, shall we? He decides to take some time out of Olympus' busy schedule to challenge me to a match. His big idea is that the match at Final Destination was a stupid gimmick match--I suppose we can agree there--only to turn around and challenge me for the Icarus Championship in... another stupid gimmick match. But not even a good one, he takes the watered down dog collar match and says nah, not this one, too classic and decides to just do a regular old, tied-to-your-wrist-style strap match. You're exhausting, Ryo, really. You're one of these people that runs around with a massive ego, but no real personality, no real talent and just unapologetically boring. You're a fish, with a broken fin, swimming around in a circle while predators look on and not only are you completely oblivious to your station in life, you have the absolute nerve to run your mouth about it. There's an old saying, and maybe you younger generations just aren't familiar, but it goes something like: don't let your mouth write a check that your ass can't cash. I know, I know, insert old comment here, right? But that's what you're doing, Ryo. You keep flapping those gums of yours, hollering up a storm, and inevitably that check will come due and you're going to be in for one hell of a rude awakening. And, with absolutely no sense of irony, I bet you'll wake up afterwards shocked by it."


Adjusting his position on the railing, James spits over the side. He still does not turn to face the camera.


"I really like this new, super clever, thing you've decided to take and run with though. Little Jimmy. Gee golly gosh that's just swell. It really gets the point across that you're the big man 'round these parts and you are absolutely not to be trifled with. It's almost as swell as you stealing my Icarus championship and carrying it around for me. You think you've really owned me and it really stings but the reality of it, Ryo, is that it's great. It's a real pain in the ass to take that thing from town to town and airport to airport. I'm glad you're settling into your true calling nicely. Really, I am. You're going to make a great assistant to somebody, someday real soon. Carrying all their stuff, getting their dry cleaning, driving them around. It's just the perfect job for a no talent wannabe like yourself. And, hey, you can always regale your new boss with your failed attempt at professional wrestling. Maybe if you play the pity card right, you might get a few extra hundred dollars around Christmas time. I'm sure you clean up well enough, so I strongly suggest that after I beat you, again, you look into something more suited to your skill set. See, the Icarus Championship doesn't get my respect because it's not a respectable title, Ryo. I couldn't care less about it, and I've tried. You can justify being my bag boy by saying my disrespect merited the theft but the reality of it is really simple. That belt is tainted because of pathetic men like you that held the title before me. There is no shine to it anymore, it's just another dully piece of metal for the people at the bottom of OWA to fight over so the owners of this company don't have to try too hard with you, because you're entertained. It's like dangling a set of keys in front of an infant. Endless hours of entertainment and distraction."

James chuckles. 

"So on one shoulder you hold my property and on the other you brag about some other promotions title like it means something. It's just so cute when you get excited, Ryo. You roll right from bravado to foaming at the mouth and cussing up a storm without even missing a step. Who the hell cares about SSW and their United States Championship? If it means so much to you, why not be a fighting champion and show all those doubters exactly what you're made of and put it on the line in our stupid strap match. A title versus title match, winner take all. I'm sure the higher ups can clear it and considering the upgrade SSW would get when I walk out with that title too? I find it hard to believe that that prospect is something that they would turn down. Though, I have a sneaking suspicion that you wouldn't want to do that... and you call me the coward. Oh, and just for comparison's sake and because it's fun to let the wind out of your little sails, is Scott Oasis on par with Noah Reigner, shell of what he was not withstanding?    

Ignoring the camera, still, James shakes his head. A sly grin seen at the side of his mouth. 

"Do you know why I accepted this strap match so easily, Ryo? Did you take a second to sit down and really think? Now, I know I'm just a coward and, apparently, a great sports entertainer--not sure why anybody would ever say that, but I digress--but I like to think that my reasoning might be more closely aligned with yours than either of us though. See, Ryo, I want to be able to yank back on the strap at any given moment and have you right there, within arms reach. No sneak attacks, no toddler hissy fits, no. This is a match where I'm going to know exactly where you are from the time the bell rings to begin to the time the bell rings at the end. This isn't to your benefit, believe me, no matter how many times you might tell your own reflection or your mom or your cat. You've sealed your own fate in a way that, honestly, I never imagined. Did you know I had the opportunity to pick the stipulation and declined, Ryo? I wanted to see what you came up with and, son, you did not disappoint. Really, it takes some balls to decide you want to be connected at the wrist with me. But... this all goes back to the broken fin fish I mentioned earlier. You're frothing at the mouth and acting like you're a god damn great white shark but that's only because your little fish brain hasn't come to the realization that you are, in fact, beneath me. You picked a fight with the wrong person, Ryo, and I'm sorry but there's just nothing that can be done about that now. You've charted the course and I've just sat back and watched. It's been delightful, Ryo, really. This might be the first time in my career that I beat somebody so badly they leave the industry entirely. I guess that makes you Machine Gun Kelly and me Eminem. Pop culture. But, hey, if you need a reference for your new career, I'm sure Scott Oasis will be happy to provide one for you."

James spits over the side again and stands up, shaking his head. He turns his back to the camera and raises his right hand in a lazy, semi-wave.

"I'm glad you're looking forward to it, Ryo, and you're excited to see me because I can't wait."

James Diamond walks out of the shot, shaking is head and sticking his hands in his pockets. The words Little Jimmy can be heard, followed by an audible chuckle.

War and Thunder #2:

(The scene opens backstage on the Olympus interview set.  It’s here we find the Olympus brand’s head reporter Hugh Jass standing by with a microphone in hand.)

Huge Jass: Ladies and gentlemen thank you for tuning into this OWA on YouTube exclusive video. We are just a few hours away from the first Olympus super show of the season, and my oh my is it electric.  We are certainly in for a shock as Olympus in association with Marvel Pictures presents War and Thunder! And I can think of no match that should better live up to the name of this even than it’s main event!  It’s the Immortal Heavyweight championship to be decided inside of the Thundercage! In one corner will stand perhaps the most decorated champion in OWA history in Jacob Senn. In the other will stand my guest at this moment. He is the challenger, the former two time Prestige Champion, and certainly a champion of the people. He is the Romani King, Mark Michaels!

( Mark enters the shot wearing the new Fortune Favors the Best T-Shirt. His energy is big and reaches through the screen. His attitude is confident, excited, and he is obviously in a good mood.)

Hugh Jass:  Mark come on in. Before we talk about your match tonight, let ask how you are feeling knowing that you’re just a few short hours from potentially becoming the next OWA Immortal Heavyweight Champion?

Mark: Hugh I tell you man, from the moment they announced this match, I felt like a lightning bolt kicked my heart into overdrive. I’ve been like a hungry lion pacing back and forth, and back and forth, and back and forth, over and again just waiting for the moment the door opens and I get to devour my next meal. Every single, solitary moment has been filled to the brim with an anxious anticipation for me.  I can hardly sit still.  I can barely keep from heading down to the ring as soon as Olympus starts, so I can say fuck it we don’t gotta wait till the end of the night for me to whoop Jacob Senn’s ass!  I’m checking my watch and that little hand over the 8 is telling me that it’s time to rock and roll! That’s how I’m feeling right now Hugh.

Hugh Jass: I’m sure your fans are excited to hear so, especially considering how
You were feeling going into your match with Remington Ivory Prescott back at 
Final Destination. What do you feel has changed your mindset since that match?

Mark:  Well if the camera guy can take a good look at the words on my shirt I think you’d get a good idea.  I know a lot of people have a lot of superstitions, me personally, I like to make my own luck. I like to know that I am in the driver’s seat, choosing my own destiny. I know that good things come to those who wait, but great things happen all at once. And fortune favors those who take chances, draw lines in the sand, and do what they believe is right. I’m fighting for every single man and woman in the locker room living by the sweat of their brow.  This match is about something greater than myself. I’m not here for validatation or vanity.  the last 12 months have done more than enough proved just how tough and talented I am in the ring and then some. Tonight rather, I am here to stand and say to Alex Carter and his puppet master, that so long as I am breathing, I am gonna be fighting. As long as I have my self respect I won’t fall in line, or sell out like top two champions on Olympus have. Nor will I simply lay down and die and go quietly into the night. 


Hugh Jass: Now Jacob recently issued a statement regarding this match. Have you had a chance to hear what he had to say regarding your chances in the Thundercage?

Mark: Yes I have, and I’d like to go on record with my rebuttal, go ahead and quote me on this. Brother you can blow it out your ass.  According to Jacob Senn the choice is blindly trust his two faced, double dealing, snake oil selling ass,  or hop off to hell in a hand basket. He calls himself the only hope for salvation, and then has the lack of self awareness to call me egotistical?! Well Jacob I’m here to tell you that I’ve chosen to take the hand basket, and I’m gonna shove it directly up your ass! You want calamity?! You want hell?!  Hell hath no furry like Mark Mother fucking Michaels.  You know the same guy you’ve always looked down on. The guy who you’ve always said wasn’t anything special, that I’d never main event a show, that would never win a championship, and couldn’t hang with the top tier guys in professional wrestling. Even now you get me all wrong because I never said I had the heart of a hero, I have the heart of a survivor.  The kind of heart to keep pressing on past the point of exhaustion, past the worst pain you’ve ever felt in your whole life, past the point where the son of a bitch standing across from you is still Conscious.  You keep getting me all wrong Senn, especially with this bull crap that now I’m your latest victim, and that you’ll rip my beating heart out of my chest. That shit got a chuckle out of me. In case you’ve had your head buried in your ass the past few years, since the day our paths first crossed I’ve been proving you dead wrong about me Jack.  I’ve risen from the very bottom to be here. Ive taken the worst from the worst, and the best of the very best and still I am standing here ready to bring the Blitzkrieg down on your soccer mom bob wearing head! This match is a testament to the very fact that when it comes to Mark Michaels, Jacob Senn just hasn’t got a clue. Meanwhile Jacob hasn’t stopped running his mouth  about how highly he thinks of himself.  He laid down a long list of people who he’s gotten one over on. Funny how he hasn’t mentioned the way he barely survived some of those matches by the skin of his teeth, nor the fact that Elijah Hampton had his ass beat, and if it hadn’t been for those parasites and leaches he calls lackeys that belt wouldn’t be hanging round his waistline. 
So when you say I can’t beat you and take home the Immortal Heavyweight Championship tonight, It’s just more random nonsense and penny prophecies falling out the mouth of a man who’s so shook he’s turning even more pasty than usual. It’s more hot garbage from the biggest piece of white trash I’ve ever met. Jacob, you can say whatever you like about me, the fact is I’m gonna prove you wrong one more time here tonight. 


Hugh Jass:  You certainly have a point there. But you are still taking on a hall of famer who has won championship gold everywhere he has competed. Couple this with his new attitude, are you worried about what might happen inside that cage?

Mark: Hugh, when you’re surrounded on every side by unforgiving steel, trapped inside with a merciless opponent. Blood, bruises, and all manner of punishment are practically assured the moment that the  bell rings.  But I don’t fear Jacob, because I’ve been through hell and back time and again just to be here. I’ve stood against mother fuckers 10 times more depraved then this anal retentive cac. I’m not afraid because it’s just him and me, you dig? There’s not got be half a dozen jackasses running around with mace, and there certainly won’t be anyone to take the hits for Jacob and keep him from Haiking to the king baby. It’s just him and me, and quite frankly this new Jacob Senn is just a little bitch.   It’s funny how Senn mentioned how for a brief moment we stood on the same side. I think back to everything he said at Civil War. How the Dynasty was an unbreakable unit. How he wanted to push Darkane, and Elijah Hampton to the highest of heights. How you thought Ayrx was a clown covering his own agendas in the clothing of a greater cause. I listened back to that Jacob Senn, then I listened to everything you had to say these last few weeks. How you have so wholly and totally  sold out everything you once stood for just so you could get one last run with the belt. How you forever tarnished that reputation you like to lord over me just so you could have the spotlight shining on you, because it ate you alive when it was sitting on anybody else. I hear you talking about calamity, and false prophets leading people straight to hell, and I gotta ask what the fuck does any of this have to do with professional wrestling, or that championship you got around waist? I hear you nowadays Senn, and the conclusion I came to is the same one I’ve had for the longest time.  You are a low down dirty son of a bitch, Your just plain full of shit and no one in their right mind would ever trust you further than they could throw you. I wouldn’t believe a damn word that falls out of your mouth even if it the god lord repeated it.  So when you talk about coming down off your high horse to save us little insects from ourselves, or how I’m nothing compared to the magnificence that is Jacob Senn, every time. 
  You know some people would call it ironic that the Gypsy is the guy who has to call out Jacob Senn for being a two bit liar. Not that there isn’t a line of people who’ll tell you to your face that your words are cheeper than your mom when she works the street corners, but the fact No one will ever take the word of the rat bastard who flushed his friends, his legacy, and his self respect down the crapper just so he can become the new boss’ chief pet should say all you need to know. The guy sold out everything he stood for so he could can get a scratch behind his ears, and a milkbone every time he obeys his master’s command.  The man who talks a big game but needs to hide behind Alex Cater’s skirt lest he have the last tread of his legacy washed away in less than a minute when I backhand the taste out his mouth. Jacob Senn got so petty and jealous that he stabbed the Dynasty in the back so he could dwell amongst bottom feeders like Remington Ivory Prescott, and Lazarus Arjen who’ll suck both his blood and his dick so long as as he has that strap around his waist, a time which is coming to an end here tonight. 



Hugh Jass: when you issued your challenge, you were very vocal about both your feelings and history towards Jacob Senn.  With such a personal grudge held between you two, do you think that tonight will be the night your feud gets put to bed so to speak?


Mark: Hugh, in most any case a thundercage is a war to settle a score.    
When the cage door closes, all the talk goes out the window, and the only thing that matters is who has enough guts to press on. If I was a betting man, I’d bet on the guy who has defied every label, every prediction, and every expectation, and not the jackass who couldn’t muster up enough balls to tell the dynasty he wanted to go his own way.  I’d be betting money on the man who through sheer will power and determination has weathered the storms, took his lumps, and grown with every single match to stand before you ready to bring back  honor and pride to the Immortal Heavyweight Championship. I’d bet my last dollar that the Romani King is gonna ball up his fist, and knock Jacob Senn’s self important head clean off his shoulders!  the last time I was in a Thundercage I came close to getting it all. Tonight I’m coming to cement 2 legacies. One will be Senn being the biggest cunt this side of EAW. Second is Mark Michaels stamping his name forever in the record books as the next Immortal Heavyweight Champion. 

 
And Elijah, when I win this belt, all you got to do ask and you got your shot. 

Hugh Jass: Thanks Mark for your time, remember folks Olympus is tonight, check your local listings. For OWA on YouTube, I’m Hugh Jass. 

( FADE OUT. )

The only intention I have for the future of Olympus is salvation. The only path to salvation for this business is through calamity, the calamity I hope to deliver unto this business who does its best to leave me scorned and forgotten, and leave it in its ruined state for all to look in dread towards.

This is the only thing that awaits those who attempt to deny what is inevitable. Those who are stricken with the disease of vanity, the stench radiating from them as an aura of malady to corrupt the sheep who worship the ground they walk upon, who would be known as heroes for you to rally behind won’t be the saviors able to protect you from the calamity to come. Matt Miles, Darkane, Kazuya Iwade, Noah Reigner, Elijah Hampton, they are all men who placed the mantle of hero upon themselves to defend this company from the righteous cataclysm that they have created through their own avarice and vanity. The foundation of an industry I built with my own hands, stained by them false idols of heroism you cherish, will need to be rebuilt and re-established once more and that’s why I currently stand here as the OWA Immortal Heavyweight Champion. All of these men have attempted to strip away this crown I have claimed for myself, to take away what rightfully belongs to me alone, and yet another man has been unable to learn the message. Mark Michaels has become the newest victim to be placed before me in an attempt to put a stop to the calamity that has already been set in motion for this business. He finds himself with an opportunity to reach out and touch the glory he has always wished to have in his life in being a world champion in this business, but he should know better than to reach against yours truly. A man who has stoked his own flames because of his recent success to believe himself to be worthy of the right to be known as world champion. Simply because you had been Prestige Champion, because you had gotten a recent string of victories to strengthen your ego to the point where you believe you will stomp out this calamity with ease, it doesn’t guarantee your conquest to be destined for you. You and your cousins could be ready for this match set to unfold at War and Thunder, the three of you may already have gotten everything lined up for you the instant your fantasized moment of becoming the new OWA Immortal Heavyweight Champion happens, but I am a man who has made a career for shattering the dreams of those with lofty aspirations. You should know this from personal experience, but you continue to walk the path to lead you to this point. You’re naïve enough to find belief in the fact that you won’t only stand a chance against me, but you’ll defeat me and be able to have that accolade to make your own legacy stronger. A child who has fooled himself to have this belief corrupt his mind, to allow the stench of heroism taint the future for a man who many have said to show promise, only to allow himself to be met with an avatar of destruction standing before him.

Naivety has allowed you to believe that this industry has always been about the talent a man possesses to bring them to the zenith of this industry. Until I claimed this Immortal Heavyweight Championship from the hands of Noah Reigner, this brand and this company has never been about talent. It’s always been about who carried the strongest stench of vanity and heroism about them that polluted the very air we breathe with it. You can believe that you’ve never bowed before anyone, but I do not find sincerity in those words. You were more than welcome and eager to bow before the demands of Aizen, fighting for him and even beside The Dynasty when the moment called for it, and why was that? Vanity and heroism. These traits are always united together to corrupt the very soul of those who walk within these doors because you viewed yourself as a hero walking into that match, your avaricious eyes saw the opportunity to claim championship gold after that and your vanity needed to be sated with the glory which followed capturing it, and all of this was at the behest of the man who became a tribute to the cause of calamity to descend upon this corrupted industry. As long as you were feasting, your hunger for glory a distant memory, you were more than happy to bend the knee to another man to get what you wanted. So you can fantasize about this match being a way for you to take a stand against a corruptive force demanding something as obscene as obedience for the roster and reverence in the champion who stands to deliver upheaval to this industry, but the truth is all of this is another ploy of vanity and heroism to allow the sheep who repeatedly dupe themselves into believing the lies to rally behind you in support. You reek of it, Mark. The putrid stench has corrupted you inside and out to the point where you are desperate for this opportunity the moment you lost the Prestige Championship to Remington Ivory Prescott, willing to sacrifice your body and soul within the confines of a Thundercage against me to even have hope that you could gain what you fight for, but your desperation will only lead you down a path into the pit of obscurity where you belong. No jest that you make to protect your ego will be able to shield you from the anguish your body will endure once you set foot inside of that cage. No family will be at your side as I brutalize your body in ways that will make you unrecognizable to them once you are freed from the torture I inflict. The only salvation you will find is the moment when I decide to pin your shoulders to the mat, allow you to look up into the bright lights, and let the referee count to three to end your suffering once and for all.

Your vanity and heroism makes you believe there’s not a single chance of that happening though? Surprising, considering that I have always been on a different level than you, at every stage of this game.

No matter where I have been where I have seen you lurking around, no matter if you have been The Romani King or if you have been some “picture perfect” Hollywood playboy with an ego large enough to be its own universe, you have never been on the same playing field with me at any stage of your career. You don’t have the accolades, you don’t have the experience, and certainly don't have the ability or talent to be able to call yourself greater than me, Mark. Nothing about you screams that you have what it takes to not only walk out of this match with probably the biggest victory of your entire life with my Immortal Heavyweight Championship on your shoulder, but to even survive with your head held high when this match is all said and done. You may have had one match where no matter what people threw at you and the destruction your body endured, but I have built a career and legacy of doing just that. You take the most destructive and taxing matches this industry can be able to throw towards another person. The savage weapons that are gifted to those through the many variations of no holds barred rules around here, the manifestations of malicious intentions through steel structures fashioned for the sole purpose of flaying flesh from bone, I have braved the anguish these environments forced upon the body. As Jesus of Nazareth was tortured for his crimes against man for the words he preached about his own personal God being the salvation and deliverance of mankind, I have been punished for the talent and glory I have manifested for my name and the legacy I hope to leave behind when my mortal coil was been reduced to bone and ash in death. The tortures my body has endured through the opponents I have conquered for over a decade of my career, none was able to keep me down and away from claiming what has always belonged to me in the crown of prestige that is world champion. You will be no different than the challengers and aspiring conquerors who have hoped to vanquish me when the grand stage was presented before them. You will join Noah Reigner in having your heart ripped out of your chest and I crush the still-beating heart of your dreams right in front of your eyes. You will join Kazuya Iwade in your dream of establishing your legacy as the top wrestler in the world shattered the moment your skull has been broken into the canvas from the force of my oppressive boot. You will follow in suit with Darkane who had believed his battle hardened body and destructive capabilities would stand a chance against me? You will watch as those capabilities fail you and you are left in a pool of your own blood to stain the canvas with. You are only another soul to be added to tributes that have already paid with their souls broken by my hand, to join the collection of heroes and champions of vanity who have failed in their pursuit to bring my demise to reality, and you already know in the deepest depths of your heart that this is already the truth.

For you may believe that my legacy has always been about serving to the desires and decrees of an authority to gain the riches of the entire world, but this match will give you a personal experience of what my legacy has always been about.

Cataclysm will fall upon the house of The Romani King. Much in the same vein as those who have attempted to challenge my reign as the OWA Immortal Heavyweight Champion, you will be met with only disappointment and despair for what you have been forced to endure. You have it believed that The Thundercage will be a refuge for you to be able to gain a fair match with me, correct? You think removing Alex Carter, Lazarus Arjen, Michelangelo, and any other person who has decided by their own accord to follow the message of calamity I have preached to this company since I was provided this pact of darkness from Him will provide the means to give you the opportunity to become world champion at my expense? Do you believe placing a cage around me to prevent outside interference will give you the ample advantage to stand tall when everything is said and done with my belt of prestige placed upon your shoulder? No. This cage may be a way for you to allow people to stay out of this match and keep them away from impacting the result of this match, but for me? This cage is all about keeping you inside of the cage and allowing me to torture you for the childish insults and bold proclamations you have made against me. This cage is going to trap you inside of it with me, the author of your very destruction before the sheep who have decided to rally behind you because they believe you have the heart of a hero, and I will watch as that support dies down to a weak ember from the inferno you once held. Everything that makes you a hero in their eyes, I will chip away at until there is nothing left inside of The Thundercage.

For at War and Thunder, there will be no heroic celebration for you. Only a funeral for the husk I leave behind in ruin.

[Back to the drawing board a dejected Elijah Hampton goes. He thought he finally had Senn where he wanted him, with his brothers by his side, trying to give him a taste of his own medicine — but, he lost. He lost his medallion. He lost his undefeated streak of this past season. Today’s scene opens with Elijah Hampton sitting alone in a nice comfy chair in what we could assume is his penthouse. He has an ice pack on the back of his neck. There’s nothing but silence until a knock is heard on the door. The unknown person turns out to be Roy Bandini who used to manage Elijah back in the day. He takes a seat in front of Elijah.]

Roy: “Well damn, judging by the look on your face, I gotta ask — who died?”

[Elijah’s doesn’t say anything, which is very unlike him, as you know.]

Roy: “Maybe it’s not a question of who, but what? Because I know, for the time being, your hopes of becoming a world champion in OWA is what died.”

[Elijah being the sore loser he is, throws the ice pack across the room. Elijah is now looking directly at his former manager and friend.]

Roy: “There he is. Was just checking to see if there was still some life in you — some passion. Duly noted. Look, I’m not here to twist the knife even further and poke fun at you. I dropped by because I thought you could use a friend.”

Elijah: “I’m good.”

Roy: “That’s the thing, Elijah — you are good. You’re way too good to sulk away over something you can’t change. No matter how hard you try. What happened on Olympus, happened. It’s in the past. Leave it there, get yourself together and move forward. Right the wrong when the time comes. Not just for your own good, but for everyone that is counting on you.”

Elijah: “That’s the thing, I never asked for their support. Nor do I need it. Honestly, I feel sorry for those who placed their faith in me. Or even worse, those who continue to believe in me, blindly. Ha, then again, not like I care about them in the first place.”

Roy: “Right. You know Elijah, I’ve known you for years. Meaning, I know you better than anyone else. I know how you operate. I know your mannerisms, your personality. And when you lie, you break eye contact. You look away. And when you said you don’t care just now, you looked at the floor. You do care. You care deeply.”

Elijah: “No. No I don’t.”

Roy: “And now this time you looked at the side. You’re lying to yourself.”

[Elijah’s neck is now covered with bulging veins, his face turning a bit red, his eyes wide open as he stands up with complete and utter frustration.]

Elijah: “I JUST WISH PEOPLE WOULD STOP FORCING ME TO BE SOMETHING I'M NOT, OKAY?! I’M NOT THIS SO-CALLED ‘HERO’ THAT THEY KEEP REFERRING TO ME AS! LOOK — look, I’m not a good guy. You know this better than anybody. I’ve done some fucked up shit. Shit I’m not proud of. And I could go through the laundry list of my personal lows, but what tops it all, is I’m a user. I use people. Whether it comes to my personal life or my career — I treat them as pawns to get what I want. So I can get ahead. That’s all that matters. Stomping on their hands and stepping on their heads to get to where I want to be. I’ve proven that time and time again in the past. Like let’s be honest, in my heart of hearts, I probably would have double-crossed The Dynasty at some point myself — it’s just Jacob beat me to the punch.”

Roy: “Yeah? This is what you’re going to do? You’re going to try to paint this picture that you never cared about anyone, especially The Dynasty — just yourself?”

Elijah: “Ye-yeah. That’s right!”

Roy: “That sure was convincing. Look, I know what you’re trying to do. And it’s admirable. You’re trying to push those you care about most away because you’re trying to shoulder the blame. Trying to get them out of any further crossfire so you can take the hit all on your own. And the sad part is, you think you deserve it. Because you irrationally blame yourself for all of this. You’re taking what Alex and Jacob said about you to heart. And you are letting them get in your head. But you want to pretend they're right? Fine. You don't care about The Dynasty? Then you should have no problem with making — I would say difficult decision, but with what you’re saying, it shouldn’t be difficult at all, in putting away Darkane. And ripping his Olympus contract to shreds.”

[Elijah pauses for several seconds]

Roy: “That’s what I thought. And I know, I know what’s going on in that little noggin of yours. You’re trying to play out every possible scenario in your head to get what you both want — for you to get a proper shot at the Immortal Heavyweight Championship and for Darkane to stay on Olympus so he can rip Laz’s head off. Being what you so desperately claim to not be — a hero. But I hate to break it to you, you can only have one. So you know what must be done.”

Elijah: “….?” 

Roy: “Sweep the leg. Or like, just Win.”

Elijah: “And that right there lies the problem, Roy. No matter what I choose to do, no matter what the result will end up being, there is no winning this week.”

Roy: “Yes. Yes there is. Get your head on straight. More importantly, get your hand raised. Get your heavyweight title shot. You deserve it. The choice is easy.”


“If only it were that easy. Then again, none of this has been. With Senn and Carter calling the shots. Wasting no time flexing their power in our faces with two shit-eating grins. Going out of their way to make my life a living hell. And it's like, I don't know whether I should be mad or if I should blush? It's flattering, really. However — it pains me to admit this, but so far, those scared lil bitches have succeeded in doing as much. Look at me. I’m bruised and I’m battered. Mentally and emotionally spent. The same goes for every member of The Dynasty. More battle scars. Add it to the collection. So obviously, as a result, they are feeling themselves a bit. Kicking their feet up on the table and letting out one huge exhale. Thinking they have a firm grasp on our livelihoods. Or even better yet, thinking we’ll eventually fall in line and follow their command and support their regime like everyone else. Or perhaps — maybe not. Maybe they aren’t relaxing and letting their hair fall down just yet. Maybe they won’t let up until I’ve taken my last breath. Maybe they’ll only add pressure to their boot on my already damaged neck, thanks to the champ. That’s fine. Because no matter what they do and no matter what they try to pull, Senn should know more than anyone that in the end, it’s The Dynasty that finds a way to reign supreme. Alex should know that too from the few times he stepped inside the ring with me and once, on the streets — it never faired well for him. Point blank, The Dynasty stands tall. Which may not seem like it to Jacob at this very moment because with that title, he’s having that moment in the sun, -- that is until we catapult and fire your bitch ass into the sun and watch you go up in a blaze. You know it’s coming. Everyone knows it coming."

"You know. You know what’s lurking. Because you’ve seen it up close. The beast that lives within me. My potential. My raw talent. Which you thought to yourself, it’s fine because Elijah Hampton is still a few years away from figuring it all out. You’ve got time. Yet here I am, not just knocking on your door, but kicking that bitch down. Here I am, about to take your Immortal Heavyweight Championship. And when that happens, everything you’ve done and everyone you’ve wronged, it’ll catch up to you. This power you have will go up in smoke. This alliance you have with Alex will be no more. You will no longer have the resources at your disposal to help you even the odds and fill the talent gap that is very much noticeable between the likes of you versus me and Darkane. We see what you are and what you are capable of in the year 2022 when you are unable to rig the system. And it ain’t pretty. Returning to earth, losing to the likes of Jake Smith. It’s sad to watch. It’s even sadder to see the state that you are in. You’re weak. Especially with you pitting me against Darkane. That shit’s real weak. And it reeks of desperation. Which sums you up to a T. Hence why you didn’t even give it a second thought to sell your soul and to sell out The Dynasty in one fell swoop. Everyone knows this is your last chance at being a world champion caliber in OWA. And you took it. And you ran with it — well, that is until you started stumbling once you saw me directly waiting in your path. But running, it should come as no surprise because you’re a god damn track star with how much you’ve been running from me. It’s only when you have Alex, Laz, and now Michelangelo standing in front of you to do your bidding is when you stand up straight, pound your chest, and add that fake bass to your voice. Put them in my way. Try to delay the inevitable. I’ll rip through them one by one. Until it’s just you and me. No Dynasty. No Project Smile. Just Jacob Senn. Just Elijah Hampton. And when our paths do cross once more, this time at a bigger stage, I’ll be sure to dislodge that dagger you stuck in my back those couple of months ago and I’ll stab you right between the eyes with it — without blinking and without hesitation. Watching you bleed out. But not to the point you are on your deathbed, oh no. Where’s the fun in that? Because I actually want you to live to see another day. I want you to watch as I reign as your Immortal Heavyweight Champion. A reign that’ll outshine yours in every way imaginable. And most of all, I want you to live with the regrets that’ll eat away at you for the rest of your uneventful and unfulfilling life. And then, once the dust settles and you had time to digest all of your mistakes, just know that when you have this big ass epiphany one night, which will hit you like a ton of bricks — save it. Save the apology. Save the crocodile tears. Save the begging on your knees: Because what you did, willingly might I add, there is no coming back from that. This can’t be salvaged. And neither can you. Like this story you and Alex keep going on and on about — your downfall is nearly here. You know it. I know it. And that story? It just so happens to belong to — The. Book. Of. Eli. Now, as for this week?”

[Elijah stops for a second. Thinking about him having to face his friend And unsure of what he must do. Using his hatred for Senn as an excuse to put off his comments about his upcoming match on Olympus.]

“Just — cut it here.”

{The camera fades in and we find ourselves looking at a slightly smirking Ryo as he leans back in his seat, a sprawling view of the local cityscape behind him as he does so}

Ryo: So I'm not gonna lie as things did not go as I had planned on the last edition of Olympus when I came out there to slap little Jimmy around with the reality that I was going to change his fucking world view because I was done with him and his false claims of being the Omega Wrestling Alliance Icarus champion.


I won't begrudge people because Mister Slayton suggested that I tell the truth in that he did, in fact, beat me at the last pay per view in that weak ass match...but Mister Slayton did point out that *I* was in the right when I took the Icarus title with me when I left that night because if you're not going to respect the championship, then you don't respect the honor of the company that you fight for as that level of champion.


That's right, by taking this championship *AWAY* from Little Jimmy Diamond last night, making him all butt hurt over it, I was protecting the *HONOR* of the Omega Wrestling Alliance because unlike so many on this roster such as Arata Asakura, I'm actually here for the company and it's fans...


...even though some of you still *boo* me for some fucked up reason.


But nonetheless, after that last show...I went over to Strong Style Wrestling, thinking that I was going to be facing off against my old "friend" Jeff X, but instead I got stuck fighting the big *MAMMOTH* himself in Scott Oasis for the Strong Style Wrestling United States Heavyweight championship and in case you didn't hear about it yet...

{Ryo reaches off camera to pick something up which he then places on his right shoulder....the SSW United States Heavyweight championship at which point Ryo's smirk becomes a smile}

Ryo: I am now the SSW United States champion because I beat Scott *FUCKING* Oasis for it!


Me, the little mother fucker that you all fucking laughed at and said wouldn't amount to any-fucking-thing in professional wrestling, beat one of the *true* fucking *GREATS* of our industry!! I was manhandled by the Ice Man and every time that he thought I was done for, I would simply smile through bloodied teeth and get right the fuck back up. Oasis painted himself in my very blood, put me through multiple Seeks and Destroys and *STILL*, I kept going until finally I kicked his damned head off of his shoulders. 

{Ryo then tils his head to the right, looking at the camera askew as the smile drops from his face}

Ryo: I can be proud of my accomplishment because not everyone can just idly say that they beat someone like Scott Oasis, more to the point anyone who's at *MY* point in their career which is only a couple of years in, because beating a man of Mister Oasis' caliber isn't something that you just idly talk about like he's nothing.


But you, Little Jimmy, I can talk about you like you're nothing because that's exactly what you are now isn't?


A Little *nothing*.


You came here to the OWA and instantly demanded that people acknowledge you like you were some kind of returning conquering hero or something even greater and yet you demand to be put into a title match at FD only for you to win and spit on the very championship that you won...claiming instantly that the Icarus championship was beneath you.


That *I* was beneath you.


That's not the reality of the situation now is it, Little Jimmy? All it takes is just one fucking instant for me to completely turn your entire world view on it's ass, just one instant for you to blink wrong only for your head to suddenly snap back and then you're getting that oh so lovely three second tan that you always crave for yourself. 


But a coward like yourself won't stand there and take your beating, you won't stand there and fight me man to man...no, you'll take your chances running and pray that you can get that sneak attack in that'll allow you to some how take my Icarus title from me.


But that's not exactly going to happen on Olympus this week, now is it? 


No, I'm *making* you face me in a stand up fight. I'm *keeping* you from running like you no doubt would plan to do and then, after I shatter your misconception that you're some kind of "great sports entertainer" like you keep claiming that you are, I want you to slink back to whatever brush league that you crawled out of and you are to *stay* *THERE* until such time as Mister Oasis needs a proper janitor. 

{Ryo then sits up much more straighter in his chair, the knuckles on his right hand turning white as he grips the strap of the US title just a little bit more tightly}

Ryo: You see that's one of the biggest problems that I've run into since I've come here to the Omega Wrestling Alliance, Jim. People constantly telling me that I have all of this talent, all of this potential but it's enough that so many people are threatened by me for some reason and as such everything was done to keep me down, to try and destroy any confidence in myself worth and being.


I came here to this company, humble and ready to learn from everyone and anyone willing to teach me...but instead I was constantly berated by those self-same people that I asked to help further my education as a professional wrestler because I didn't come into the OWA locker room and just started to throw concepts around, *no*!


I went into those same locker rooms, sat down, and I shut up to listen to what my elders had to say because I was still green and more than ready to fucking learn and while some were willing to reach out to me and teach me new things that I have since used to help further what I can do in that ring or in my career....others, the majority of them, simply wanted me gone because they were more concerned about their spot or that I wasn't, of all fucking things, "Japanese enough".


But instead of getting upset about it, I choose to take that anger...to mold it and shape it into a rage that further fueled how warped my world view had become and it lead me to leave Kingdom because I had to get away from that wellspring of toxicity that was Arata Asakura and over to Olympus, and I busted my ass to make something of myself...which is more than I can for you because you expect everyone to just hand things to you because of your "experience" or some shit like that.


So at Olympus Jimboy, I'm going to show you what kind of things that the world has taught me as we become strapped together and then I get to unleash true reality of your situation upon you:


You are not leaving as the Omega Wrestling Alliance Icarus Openweight Champion.


You are in *FACT* leaving both the *poorer* and *wiser* man for it.


*Poorer* because you will have lost the match and along with it, the winner's purse.


But *WISER*...because you'll see the depths to which a man that you've seemingly just shrugged off as a weak and pathetic opponent with no real chance against you supposedly in fact showed you the true strength of his resolve and character, with the lesson learned that you are not fucking God's gift to professional wrestling and maybe your bitch ass needs to be humble more often than your fool mouth allows you to be.


Either way, come Olympus...you are looking at the first *TWO* time Icarus Openweight Champion...a title that I'll be bringing back to the Rogues. 


Be seeing you soon, Little Jimmy.



{Ryo then stands up with his championship on his shoulder and his left fist thrust outwards towards the camera as he focuses on said piece of equipment with a dead, emotionless stare as the screen slowly fades to black..}

Shanghai, China
Last Episode of Kingdom



Sena’s ass was hurting. Well, most of his body in general was in pain but his ass was definitely hurting after that insane leg drop to finish off Slaughter and advance in the tournament. He wasn’t particularly happy with his performance, but it was enough to advance. More and more he was finding adaptability being an important asset not just for the tournament, but his life as a pro wrestler. Rather….he would think about that later on. For now his tailbone was KILLING him and he felt like he was so hungry that he could eat an elephant. And to make matters worse, Emmy was standing there behind the curtain as he managed to hobble his way backstage, arms folded and a pretty stern look on her face. What did he do now? He won a match that was devoid of rules, his head was killing him from hunger pains and his body was so battered he’d need an ice bath to relax. He walked over to her, ready to accept his lecture…but to his surprise Emmy simply smiled at him and gave him a light, playful smack on the back of his head.


“That was smooth, Sena. Real smooth. Don’t you ever fucking do it again.”


“Hey, it won the match, didn’t it?” 


“It did. Just don’t go too crazy out there like that. You’ve still got a long way to go to win this tournament.” 


“Alright.” 


“Well, go grab a shower and get dressed. Got a spot reserved for us at a nice little spot not far from here. My treat.” 


One down, two to go. That’s the mindset he had. He knew who was next and he had honestly been waiting for that match since before the brackets were announced. The passion with which this man spoke about wrestling, the pride and ambition he exemplified were things that Sena respected. It would be yet another massive test to see where he was going. 




Pyongyang International Airport
Pyongyang, North Korea
3:00 AM Pyongyang Time


The flight wasn’t anything particularly worrisome. He had always heard a lot about North Korea. The people. The politics. The absolutely mad family of dictators that had run it since its founding. Under most circumstances he probably would never have traveled there on his own accord but it’s where the next event was, right? He was sitting in his cramped seat, headphones on blasting some music when he felt Emmy pull the headphones off his head and leaned in to whisper to him. 


“Listen, this place is not that bad. Just keep your eyes open and your mouth shut. Whatever you do, don't say anything out of line about the country or the people or anything. Anything negative you keep to yourself. Last guy I heard saying something mean about the country got interrogated at gunpoint for two hours and was damn lucky it was JUST that. Got it?” 


“Got it.” 


He honestly didn’t give a crap about The Democratic People’s Republic of Korea at the moment. That brawl with Slaughter still had him battered and bruised and in all honesty he needed himself some more rest before preparing for his next opponent. The hotel that he checked in was rather nice, if not rather pleasant. Everything was clean, everything was neat, and the bed was especially comfortable. So comfortable he had drifted off to a blissful, revitalizing sleep.


Until…




He sprang awake in his bed, startled by all the noise. What the hell was going on!? Apparently his television was set to come at a certain time. Oh, and it didn’t just come on, it came on blasting the Aegukka (Patriotic Song), the National Anthem of North Korea. Images of national landmarks, the military, and artwork depicting the absolute “best” of communism were on full display. It actually looked a little cool. 10/10 on the Patriotism and Propaganda front for sure. 


Good morning, Comrades! Long live the glorious nation of the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea! This is the morning news programme. Early this morning, Dear Respected Supreme Commander Kim Jon Un greeted special guests from across the world in an incredible display of the economic and cultural influence that he brings to our mighty nation! Scott Oasis, the strongest wrestler in the history of Imperialist America’s Professional Wrestling, has kindly acquiesced to the request of the honorable Dear Respected Supreme Commander to put on a show of goodwill and cultural exchange. The Omega Wrestling Alliance will host a special show of their “Kingdom” program live from the Rungrado 1st of May Stadium this weekend. Tickets are free to the public and there is expected to be “standing room only.” An incredible display of sportsmanship and good will from the DPRK to the Imperialist, Blood-Thirsty forces of the West! The weather report will begin shortly…


Two questions were all that Sena had after what he could only describe as the most bizarre broadcast he had ever seen.


[list=margin-top:0;margin-bottom:0;padding-inline-start:48px;][*]Who the hell did Scott Oasis bribe for the broadcaster to call him the “strongest wrestler in the history of America”? 
[/list]


And …


[list=margin-top:0;margin-bottom:0;padding-inline-start:48px;][*]What in the fuck had he gotten himself into? 
[/list]





They say that perception is reality, right? I don’t know what I’ve done to rub people the wrong way in the wrestling business but there are a LOT of perceptions about me. They think that I’m too small, too bland, too adherent to the ways of wrestlers to come before me. Because I don’t spend my time preening in front of a mirror or talking about myself until I’m red in the face that I lack imagination and charisma. 


You know what I say to that? 


Congratulations, you’re playing yourselves. 


I’m a professional wrestler, not a sports entertainer. I signed with OWA to learn and grow into being a better wrestler. The skits, the drama, not my bag. And to say that things are going ahead of schedule are an understatement. I’ve been picking up some nice wins on Kingdom of late, the latest over Dick P Slaughter moving me into the next round of the Dark Kingdom Tournament. I’m two wins away from one prize…but I already have another one because of the B.O.B. Games. I know my manager was not particularly pleased that other challengers were announced ahead of me but…I don’t have a partner yet so I can hardly complain. 


All of that I have to put on hold right now because I’ve got an interesting match on my hands. In fact, the man that I will be clashing with had the honor of facing Noah Kreiger in his debut and had a very, um, strange match his last time out: Chad Eccelstone? Something like that. Anyway, Chad, you seem to be obsessed with everything but doing what you are paid by OWA to do: wrestle. You seemed to try pretty hard in your debut match, but in your first Kingdom match you seemed to spend more time looking for talent in the crowd than fighting.


I hope you don’t make that same mistake twice. 


There are a lot of things that I don’t take too seriously. People have talked about my haircut since I was in middle school. People can say I’m not that much of a character or anything like that. But one thing I don’t tolerate is disrespect for professional wrestling. You have to understand something, Chad, I signed up for this not just to make a living, but to offer up pro wrestling as a form of self-expression, a way to communicate and convey to people my feelings and my message about life. Pro Wrestling is something I deeply care about and to listen to you talk about people who love this as much as I do is all the motivation that I need for this. Unlike you, I have a title match in my pocket whenever I find a partner to take on whoever the Champions may be. Unlike you, I’m still participating in the Dark Kingdom tournament. And unlike you, I’m not burdened by a career that I obviously don’t want.


I’ve been told that you have called pro wrestling a “symptom of society’s disease.”  Well, I guess you can consider me that nasty cough that just won’t go away. I didn’t back down from The Golden Dawn. I didn’t back down from Dick P Slaughter last week. I didn’t back down from the B.O.B. Games. Do you think just because you have a little money, a little social media influencer status that it’s going to stop me from dropping you on your head? My friend, you would be sadly mistaken. 


Oh! Jet Li is going to be ringside watching this match especially and I’m excited about that. I’ve seen a lot of his movies and am actually a bit curious as to why he would be at ringside to watch a no-frills wrestler and a fake Hollywood star wrestling, but that’s besides the point. Respect to Kenny Drake and Scott Oasis for promoting us, I guess? Anyway, Have you ever seen that movie, Fist of Legend? It’s based on a Bruce Lee movie and there’s this big, tough Japanese general that’s the big bad. General Fujita. He’s doing all this big talking, doing all sorts of badass looking training and exercising. Breaking concrete blocks with his fists and head, slamming nails through thick slabs of wood with the palm of his hand. You know what happens to him though, right?


Jet Li beats the fucking breaks off of him. 


Now, Chad, I know that you’re not Japanese, you’re not very tall and you’re not very strong…but I’m going to give you your next role in an action movie: the guy who talks a lot and gets his ass kicked by the hero.



Chad. I’m from California myself. I get it, you’ve got a little money in your pocket, a few movie roles, a VERY FUCKING HOT little number at your side. You’re trying to flex a little bit. Be all big and bad, intimidate Sena. I mean this in a respectful way, but Sena’s too damn stupid to be intimidated. He doesn’t think about things like normal people. He has a focus, a drive, and a determination to succeed that is not going to be pushed back by fake ass poseurs. You asked him what’s the appeal of being a young, up and coming wrestler competing? I ask YOU what’s the appeal of being an annoying ass rich boy who has a God complex? I’ve seen that enough on Kingdom, Odyssey AND Olympus. Shit, I was here doing the same shit in OWA literally a year before you. And I did it better, in fact. I dress better, I connect with the crowd better, my social media has more followers and I can guarantee the ugliest girl on my, hehe, “roster”, makes your sweet little thing look like a high school nerd. Oh and speaking of your little nickel and dime piece, if she gets cute and tries to get herself involved in your match with Sena? 


She’s getting dropped on her fucking head.


I don’t care much about wrestling, nowhere near as much as Sena. Honestly sometimes I think the kid cares too fucking much. But one thing that I do know is that neither of us takes kindly to you insulting our mentor and neither of us takes kindly to you IMPLYING THAT I AM STRAIGHT. You should have done better research on Sena, Chad. Because we’ve done plenty on you. All those antics, all that stuntin’ and bullshitin’ you’ve been coasting by with elsewhere? Not happening around here. Sena is going to show you why he’s the future of professional wrestling while over 100,000 people who don’t have a fucking clue who you are watch you get your ass beat. 


The title of your next movie? 


Dead Man Walking. 

Underestimate Sena at your own risk, fake ass Andrew Tate.

Uncle Steve was right. OWA was on another level. Now that Ty had a chance to see it for himself, he knew this was a reality. The pain of actual battle hit different than a sucker punch out on the street. He could still feel the sharp pain of glass digging into his skin and the the soreness of his back was a cold remainder of the monstrous power of Titan. A Taipei Deathmatch against a man - no monster who was the real deal. Uncle Steve didn’t seem surprised by his loss when he met him at the airport. He encouraged Ty to think of this as a learning lesson. To reach the summit where he would come face to face with the man who gave him life, he had to become his equal. If he wanted to show that he can be his own man, that he never needed him, Titan would have to be just one out of many to fall. It wasn’t exactly what Uncle Steve said, but Ty got the gist of his words. For now, he wanted the young man to get some rest and spend some time with his family before resuming their training. Kingdom’s next stop was going to be North Korea, which was a country he never thought he’d see in a million years. How Scott Oasis was able to finesse such a controversial location was beyond him. Then again, this was the same company that had deaths shown on live television.

Ty wasn’t going to be there forever.

 It wasn’t that Kuliuna feared death, but rather he was afraid for the people he’d leave behind. His sister always told him to be careful, and even in the thick of it with Titan, her words gave him clarity. The first lesson Uncle Steve taught him was how to take a bump and the second one was knowing when to fight another day. No matter how intense things got, at the end of the day, wrestling was a sport. There was more fights to be had. 

Tyler didn't stay home for long. After a few training sessions, he hopped on a flight to South Korea alongside the rest of the OWA staff and roster. There was only one airline that operated between the North and South since things were cordial between the two countries at the moment. Even if he was a guest, Ty would keep his guard up. Uncle Steve once wrestled in North Korea, during this massive wrestling festival in the 90s that some Japanese legend arranged. Steve advised him that as long as he kept to himself, he'd stay out of trouble. All he wanted was to earn a win. 

North Korea was…lonely. There was something isolating about the place - Pyongyang included. The people didn't seem oppressed, but they kept their distance. There seem to be a sun up/dun down kind of energy with barely any nightlife. That was okay for Tyler. He just wanted to jog. Some suspicious types kept an eye on him, but Tydidn't sweat it. He was just focused on getting a notch in the win column. After a brisk workout, Ty returned to his hotel room to record a message for his opponent. Addressing Alejandro de Leon would get his mind off things and allow him to focus on the future.  


"To say my Taipei Deathmatch with Titan was just a taste of what OWA is like is an understatement. You don't need an uncanny eye to see that the Land of Alphas isn't a normal place to fight. It's less sports entertainment and more like Mortal Kombat. Heh, no wonder my check is so good. Any fight could be my last, but will I turn away? Nah. Despite taking an L, I'm not finished with Kingdom. And I know in my heart it's not finished with me. Humility is the first step to learning from your mistakes . If you can't acknowledge that you screwed up, if you refuse to take responsibility for your actions, then you're never going to learn anything. Despite my frustration, I lost because the dog was bigger than the one in me."

(Ty nodded his head a few times.)

"It's time to feed my canine and what better way to do that than to hunt a lion. Alejandro de Leon should be able to relate with me. We both know how it feels to lose in front of thousands of Chinese people. The only difference is Leon failed to capture the Outlaw Championship. A belt that could be won by anyone at anytime, but yet Leon failed to capture it within the boundaries of normal singles competition. I don't know much about my opponent, but I know myself. I know that I would've fought harder to win that Outlaw title. I know that the dog in me has a bigger bite than the claws that reside on Alejandro's hands. This isn't so much a diss but rather a declaration. Kulina ain't getting knocked on his ass twice in a row. No In front of the Kim regime or anyone else for that matter."

(Tyler shakes his head for a moment while snacking on some weird Korean chips.)

"I fought my ass against Titan. In my first match, my goddamn maiden voyage was several seconds from becoming a fight to the death. Neither Titan or I wanted to lose our place in the Dark Tournament, but unfortunately Titan was the monster he needed to be. That's just it, right? Alejandro you tried to out-finesse a gangsta while I tried to intimidate a man forged from the very rocks of Mt. Olympus! We both fucked up out approach. At my heart Alejandro I'm a street fighter, a scrappy bastard who likes getting his hands dirty. Tearing my fors down bit by bit is what I'm good at. It's my M.O. Speaking of gangstas, I hear that my opponent may not be far from that kind of life, so this should be interesting. Is Alejandro like his namesake - a defender of mankind? Does he have the heart of a lion, or is he someone who will give in to despair after the first major loss? If his family is the kind I think they are, then I doubt he's the type to fall easily. But if he is, if Alejandro is the kind to just get his ass kicked after losing an opportunity of a lifetime, well then there's not much I can do about that huh?"

(Ty finished the bag of chips snd placed them aside.)

"I haven't been a wrestler for a long time, but something tells me that Mr. Oasis doesn't have tome for losers. I'd like to see myself break even this weekend. And if I have to break someone else's neck doing it, then so be it. I got a family to feed. I didn't come from blood money like my opponent, but that doesn't mean I've never been handed cash soaked in the blood of my opponent. Heh, thank goodness for direct deposit, huh? Well, another weekend, another dollar to be made. Hopefully this is a normal match and not some surprise Wheel of Fortune shit from the other week. Then again, in OWA you never know what's around the corner, huh? Time to smoke that Lion pack!"

(With a small grin, Ty turned off the recording.)

“I’m worried, Jason.”

The worried voice of Rebecca Bishop grabs the attention of Jason Long as he looks up toward her, seeing Rebecca holding onto Lita tightly and trying to rock her to sleep, but clearly—from the bags resting underneath her own eyes—she seemed to have lacked sleep as well. It’s been a roughened couple of weeks for herself considering what’s happened recently, between her own husband’s death and the disrespect that came with his funeral, she’s become more worried about what any of The Golden Dawn could do next.

“You know better than anyone else, Becca, there’s nothing to be worried about–”

“Is there not? There’s nothing to be worried about? Nobody’s heard from Jeff or Chris, Finnegan or Theo, or anyone else that was supposed to be in the future for weeks and… I’m worried for them, I’m worried if they’ll bring my husband back or not, I’m worried about everyone right now looking at me like they can do whatever they want to me.” She stops for a moment, almost a tear falling down her face. “And now, there’s this Guerilla Warfare—what if The Golden Dawn wins that? What does that prove for any of us? What are they going to do about the future? Nothing is going to be the same if Michael doesn’t come back–”

Jason brings his hand up, adjusting himself where he sat, and glared right toward Rebecca. There’s a stern look within his eyes, almost a bit of anger as she exclaims everything that’s happened over the past few weeks, things that have made Jason’s blood boil to an all-time high.

“I don’t know what the guys are doing in 2150, I wish I could tell you—but you know how hard it is to know what’s happening in about one hundred and thirty years into the future. Though, what can I assure you of happening in the future?” Jason let that question hang for a moment, slowly beginning to look away from Rebecca and sighing. “The Golden Dawn fucking cunts and Raivo are going to get the shit beat out of them– the shit that they pulled last week? They don’t get to fucking walk away from that like nothing happened, they don’t get to walk away without being fucking punished for what they pulled on you and on everyone else.”

“You and CYKA? I’m not worried about it. How can you be so sure you could trust Krieger?”

“That’s the issue, I don’t.” He pauses. “I’m not sure what to do about him, but I know that if he even tries to step out of line? I’ll be quick enough to put that cunt into his place for even trying. Just remember what I promised, Rebecca, that those fuckers aren’t getting away with this easily. They’re not getting away with this so well. And I’ll make sure that the whole lot of them get their shit kicked the fuck in.”

( The scene opens on a bottle of Crown Royal Regal Apple sitting on a table besides 3 rocks style glasses, each filled half way with ice cubes. A hand reaches out, and fills the glasses nearly to the brim with the flavored whiskey. The camera pulls back to find The Romani King Mark Michaels seated on either side by his cousins Gyp and Sy. The trio each take a glass and raise them up high.)

Mark: Onwards and upwards, here’s to being the next OWA Imortal Heavyweight Champion. 

( The three Michaels each take a long gulp of the strong yet sweet brown liquor.  A moment passes in silence before Gyp asks.)

Gyp: Yo Cousin, you sure this was the move?  Like you sure you should be taking on Jacob Senn right now at this very moment?

Sy: Bro what you talking about? Mark has been tearing it up this past year. Hell he damn near overcame a four on one disadvantage while having his eyes sprayed with mace. You think he can’t handle one dude who got shook by Matt Miles fake brother?  I say right now is the perfect time for our cousin to kick ass and take his rightful place on top of the Olympus pantheon. 


Mark: Gyp, I know you and Big George are trying to look out for me, and I love You for it. I wouldn’t have you guys with me if I thought you didn’t have my best interest at heart. But this is something I gotta do right now because the last few months have brought some dark clouds hanging over Olympus. It’s been hard to see the sunlight when things keep seeming to go from bad to worst. The rich keep getting richer and the poor keep poorer, and The sons of bitches who are running this brand seem hell bent on turning Olympus into the Caste system 2.0 Cousin. I know you’re worried about how the higher ups are gonna try and fuck us over because we dare to stand our ground and won’t settle for living in chains. But Being hated on by the powers that be is nothing new to us, hell it’s practically a right of passage to rise  up and get your due  when the man tries to hold you down. I know you’re worried, Gyp I get that you don’t want what happened to me at Final Destination to happen again. But when Jacob Senn, that sell out son of a bitch wants, everyone who hears his voice to jump on board the stranger danger, bad touch train with him and Ayrx?!  I for one am shaking my head no bro when it comes to that offer.  I can’t sit back and just allow Alex Carter’s handpicked prick to  just leave everyone on Olympus fighting for the scraps that fall from Jacob’s table. I can’t just roll over for these prekaza gaja who demand that everyone to fall in line, that everyonejust lay down and die for these mother fuckers without a fight. That’s bullshit, and I’ll be damned if I don’t nip this in the bud right here and now. Trust me, I’ve dealt with guys who have GAWD complexes before, and it’s best to stomp that shit out long before they get high off their own power.  This is about more than just a title, this is about everything I’ve been fighting for on Olympus. This is about not having to bow down and kiss a ring, or kiss some ass to get a shot. This is about keeping Friday nights the brand where your talent is what matters, not whose dick you’re sucking. So that’s why I gotta take a stand here and now bro. I promised myself when I signed my OWA contract that I would never allow myself to be treated like a second class citizen, which is what Senn and his ilk are trying to make everyone in the locker room who doesn’t fall to a knee and grovel whenever Jacob comes around. Do you get me man?

Gyp: Yeah I get you bro, and you know I never doubt you. It’s just that you and I both know these boys must have something up their sleeve like that little cunt did at Final Destination. They’re each and everyone of them too big a chicken shit to take you on in a straight fight. 


Mark: Damn straight they’re all a bunch of chicken shits. But you know how we grew up man. You can’t trick a trickster. They got an ace up their sleeves, I got a Royal flush in my back pocket. They think they can outsmart the Romani King?  Boy I can’t wait to see the look on their face after this is all Over.   Now as far as where I’m standing going into War and Thunder, I gotta admit that I’m having a strong sense of Deja Vu running up my spine. I’m about to compete in a Thunder cage for the World Championship in the middle of summer, against some doofus who has his head shoved so far up his own ass he thinks his dark, spooky, religious gimmick is really cool. A man who’s got these powers that gives him these mystic abilities. Too bad he still looks like a dude who cucks so hard that he stole his wife’s haircut.  Seriously that mangled mop top makes me wonder the kind of short bus, special Ed, barber Jacob has been visiting, and how blind he is that he thinks that do will get him any action. 


Sy: Maybe a lack of getting laid is why he went nuts and became a doomsday prophet?

Mark: I think you got something there cousin. Maybe blowing off some steam might help Jacob Senn cut out all this The mumbling about about the greater good, while acting like the biggest punk ass mark for himself bullshit.  Maybe Our Immortal heavyweight puppet, just needs that thumb in the bum his wife won’t give him, and he’ll call it quits with this dark reverend bull crap.  And listen before I even talk about the match we’re gonna have, I gotta ask What’s it about pretending to worship the devil that’s sounds so appealing to milk toast, vanilla jackasses? Seriously did you just pass by a hot topic one day and say to yourself ‘I finally figured out how I’ll get people to give a rat’s ass about me again!’
 To be fair it might have worked if Nathan Fiora hadn’t done it way better 2 years ago. C’mon man can you not think a little outside the box, or at the minimum, not come off as a total douche when you do so? I mean you bit Fiora’s style so hard I’m surprised we ain’t having an I Simp match. Since it seems Jack Off Senn is nothing more than a lame duck Awakening rip off, I’m gonna refer to his ass as Woke Senn from now on. Woke Senn got a new attitude. He did what he had to do To win the Imortal Heavyweight championship. Whats worst here? The fact that back at Civil War you had to get on your knees, and “absorb” Eon Blue’s whole schtick? Or that it was the only way for you to finally find any trace of your balls and not ride the coattails of 3 of the best wrestlers in all of OWA?!  Woke Senn likes to talk about what Woke Senn can do as the prime patsey of the jackass running this place. He talks False prophets this, Armageddon that, and brags about the bodies that will be left in his wake now that he’s some kind of voodoo jedi. we all saw what happened with Darkane, But I’m not afraid of Jacob and all his mystic bullshit.  I’m not afraid because For everything he’s done in his career, he’s doesn’t have a snowflake’s chance in hell to beat me all on his own. That’s because he’s never met a man who has as much heart as I do.  He beat Noah Reigner who’s a great talent, but Noah never had the kind of heart I do, that’s why he’s taking this little break from OWA. He beat Darkane, a crazy and twisted mother fucker who lives for pain, but again Darkane didn’t have the kind of heart I do. The kind of heart that doesn’t just push past pain, and agony, but doubt, and fear, and the voices of everyone telling you you don’t belong or you don’t measure up. I’m not afraid of Jacob because last year in the Thunderdome, I was burnt, electrocuted, Wrapped in barb wire, crashed through bullet proof class, got blown up literally, yet I still got back up, dusted myself off, and told the 5 sons of bitches in that dome to come at me, and I did it all without needing to be anything more than Mark Mother Fucking Michaels. 

Mark Michaels, the guy who was never handed a damn thing in his life, the guy who’s been fighting to survive since the day he was born. The man who set off to chase a dream, through grind, grit, and hustle worked his way up from the very bottom, moving mountains and parting seas just to be right here, a stone’s throw from finally making that dream a reality when I become the new Immortal Heavyweight Champion. That’s the man Woke Senn is about to stand toe to toe across from, but I’m not coming alone. Whenever you take on the Romani King, you know he’s bringing the Cosmic Caravan right behind him. Believe you me Jacob, you will feel every single one of the 20,000 people shaking the building when they start cheering HAIL TO THE KING BABY!!!l. You say the people turn you into a pariah, when really you just turned yourself into an even bigger jackass than you were before.  You think you’re untouchable in that ring? Let’s see if you feel the same way when best your ass from one side of that cage to other, as I send you down a ride on the Prekaza Plunge. 
 
Go ahead Jacob, keep waxing off on this idea for that you’re a living legend, a man whose legacy can never be touched or tarnish. You and I both know that’s only so long as you keep bending over for the boss man to stick ya, that’s your real legacy. Hell that’s been your legacy from the day I met you. And the fact that you are so at peace with yourself knowing that you only ever got as far as you did because you run at every chance you get to become a good little lap dog for the general managers, well it speaks volumes about the kind of Karen ass cunt you really are beneath the bravado and shitty haircut. Senn, you legacy manufacturing little bitch, when I you get locked inside the thunder cage, there’s is nowhere for you to run from Royal ass whipping that’s gonna be handed to you by the Romani King.  All the stroke, and influence in the world ain’t gonna keep you from getting a hole stomped in your lily white ass!  I’m coming to shake up the world! To enter the Thunder Cage and shock the system Senn, because there is electricity in the air, and I promise you are gonna feel every ounce of it at War and Thunder when my right hand smashes you right in your ugly face like a freight train through a glass house. Ain’t no running home and crying to your daddy, ain’t no kicking back while your Lackeys do your damn dirty work.  I’m here to tell everyone that The Romani King is coming in like the god of Thunder himself, and every time I land a blow, it’s gonna feel like Jacob Senn got hit over the head with Mjolnir itself.  

At War and Thunder, That back stabbing, egotistical, sell out, Aryx asshole eating ass son of a bitch is getting what’s coming to him ain’t no doubt about it!  Do you feel me?

Gyp; I feel you bro. 

Mark: Then like I said, onward and upward to the new champion. 

( The knock back another gulp of the whiskey as the scene fades out.)

This time we find our estranged hero in the depths of a dumpster. She still hasn't earned much since losing last week, but is hoping to get up on her feet soon enough. She pops out, holding an unopened box of ritz. they gotta be a few years old by now, but she opens them up and goes to town on them.

"(Sorry this is the first thing i had to eat since sneaking on the plane to get to the show. It's tough being a wrestler, why didn't anyone ever tell me that before hand? Anyways, last week didn't go to plan, but this week i'm looking forward to teaming with Kurosawa-san. She's a tough competitor and i'm sure i'll learn lots teaming up with her in this matchup.)"

"(Our opponents are going to be pretty tough as well. With us taking on Kuzunoha-Chan and Skyfire-San. Both of them have lots of fighting spirit, but so do i! One may be a weird emo with trust issues and the other may be some wanna be punk rocker, but that's ok. I won't judge them for being against the norm, in fact i applaud it. But with Ruri being her emo self, i'd say me and Kurosawa-San have the advantage. We'll be the better and more gelled team.)"

"(While those two are going to fight and bicker amongst themselves. I'll give it my all and i hope to improve even more than last time! Thank you all so much and please support us!)"

As the camera feed connects and fades in from the darkness, we’re given a clear view of Anaheim—the sun shining brightly down onto the spacious back garden of the home of Rebecca Brookes as she walked around dressed in a very revealing pink two-piece bikini set – considering that’s what all the cool girls do on Odyssey nowadays – and took a seat down onto a garden chair– basking in the sun’s beams as she looked up to the sun itself, adjusting the sunglasses resting on her face.

“Let’s put the truth out there from the beginning—it feels good to be back wrestling again on Odyssey.”

“Corruption within the system of how things have been run around here have made me become the one who had to suffer, but that never truly put me down for good, it only fueled me to find a way back in no matter what—and as we look to a new future here on Odyssey? It only made sense that I came back when I did and it only made sense to do what I had done upon my return to this brand. That hatred for those that had done me dirty, the hatred for those that done me wrong, they fuelled me to become a better version of myself overtime because they made me realize that—even though I thought I was more improved of my own emotions back then—I had held onto what I had left and when that was taken away from me? I couldn’t handle the fact that there was nothing for me to fall back on.” She paused for a moment, taking a deep breath before lowering her head. “I’m sure I’ve got Llorona all pissed off that I’m back and I gave her a piece of my own mind, letting out all of those months of frustration onto her, but she’s got zero idea as to what I plan on doing now that I am here, back on Odyssey, and ready to fight like my whole life depends on every fight once again.”

“As for what’s ahead right now? Well, could you ever be so surprised that I’ve decided to take up such an opportunity? Once I had known of there being an open challenge awaiting anyone that wanted to step up, I knew that I had to take it whilst I could—even if I swore I saw Angelina Magnum try to put her name down for this match as well—but that’s besides the point, because look what we have before us, I finally got the rematch for the Goddesses Championship that I should’ve been rewarded with when I lost it to Gwen Harper last year. I’ve been awaiting the day that I would’ve been given this shot and considering that I got a very formidable champion and opponent ahead of me for that title? I know I got a whole lot to prove in this fight.” A slight smirk grows along her lips. “A woman who’s etching so close to breaking the record of becoming the longest reigning Goddesses Champion, I have to say that I am nothing more than impressed with how much you’ve come a long way, NAMI. There was a time where barely anyone knew who you were and you were racking up losses on the scoreboard for such a long time, though– I know how that feels as well, I racked up a few of those along the way as well before becoming Goddesses Champion.”

“I’m not going to rush down that path of us being so similar in how we’ve come a long way around here on Odyssey, NAMI, but I’m sure anyone looking into this match would know just how similar we have been and how much a match like this might’ve been something a long time coming for the both of us—a quite friendly bout with a championship on the line, nothing big there, eh?”

Once again, that same smirk appears along her lips. Rebecca slowly removed the sunglasses from her face and looked down toward the camera recording her, finally giving the viewers a glimpse of the stern look within her eyes—very different from how she sounded, seemingly playful with the viewers.

“There’s a whole lot riding on this match, you know it and I know it—but those dreams of yours to become the longest reigning champion of that specific title you’ve got in your possession? I’d love to be the one that puts those dreams away and leaves them to rot away. There’s nothing but respect for you, NAMI. Though, I’ve been gone ever since February of this year and in those five to six months that I’ve been gone? I’ve become a little bit more hungry for success.” A beat. “It’s why I took up this challenge, because I wanna feel success whilst also going ahead and stepping up to one of the best that this brand has right now. This isn’t about wanting to take your title, this isn’t about breaking only your chance to shatter the record books, but this is a chance to prove myself once again—a chance that I can still go, shake off that ring rust, and put in that fucking effort once again. And if I just so happen to win the Goddesses Championship out of it? Then that’s an extra that I can work with.”

“Bring the absolute best that you could give me, NAMI, because I want to fight a good fight again. I want that thrill, I want that adrenaline rush, I want everything to get myself hyped enough to continue fighting to the very end. And I couldn’t think of a better person to do it with than you, NAMI. See you on Saturday, sweets.”

The shades slowly come back onto her face as she lays back down onto the garden chair, indulging into the sun before the feed slowly fades to black.

‘The Final Countdown’ plays over a black screen, as Hollywood Narration Guy speaks.


The screen dissolves to a view of the actor’s impressively equipped home gym. There are several large monuments to his ego erected throughout, in the form of larger-than-life statues in various poses.

A reimagining of the Rodin sculpture ‘The Thinker’ shows Chad’s likeness in granite, his fist against his chin deep in thought.

Carved from marble is a statue of a nude Chad, copying the pose of Michelangelo’s David, but with considerably more girth and length.

Molded from gold, a replica of the Statue of Liberty, with a dress-wearing Chad holding a torch high into the air, providing metaphorical light and hope to the metaphorically hopeless and lightless.

There’s even a sacrilegious version of Christ the Redeemer with Chad, complete with long Jesus hair, holding his arms wide in loving acceptance.

The music switches to ‘Danger Zone’ by Kenny Loggins, as a sweaty, shirtless Chad deadlifts, pedals on a platinum Peloton bike, and does a bunch of ridiculous CrossFit exercises. Chad’s voice narrates over the music.


Chad finishes a set of skullcrushers, sitting up on the bench and wiping sweat from his brow. He stares into the camera, flashes his famous smile, and points at the screen as he winks.


There’s a jump cut into a live scene of him defending against an unseen opponent’s strikes. The camera is tightly focused on his chiseled physique, with his training partner remaining off-screen. After blocking a roundhouse kick with his forearm, Chad gestures for a break and addresses the viewer.


From off-screen, the voice of Chad’s training partner is heard. The camera pulls back to reveal none other than martial arts legend and all-American hero, Chuck Norris.

“Not that I mind coming down here to help you out, Chad, but why call me out of the blue for training? You don’t have any martial arts roles to prepare for.”


“Don’t you mean Taniguchi?”


“No, I was saying his name is ‘Taniguchi’ not ‘Tamagotchi’. You must have been thinking about those Chinese spy devices from the late 90’s.”


“Okay, fine... but isn’t it going to be a wrestling match? Why are you practicing martial arts instead of grappling? Does your opponent know Kung Fu?”


“Who is ‘they’?”


Shaking his head at the disrespect from his guest, Chad picks up where he left off.


He actually stops and waits, checking his watch as he does.






“Chad, I had nothing to do with that...”


Chad is cut off mid-response as his phone vibrates in his pocket. He pulls it out and checks the message, scowling as he reads the notification aloud.


The superstar shakes his head in disbelief, scrolling through the phone.


“North Korea, son,” replies Chuck, “the villainous, communist twin brother of South Korea. If you ask me, we should’ve finished the job back in ‘53. I remember one time, back in the war, this filthy zippe-”

Chad promptly shoves his trainer and fellow actor off-camera.

{The screen starts off black as pitch before it slowly starts to fade into a shot of Yuna Kurosawa herself sitting against a dark gray wall in a building somewhere, obviously taking a break from training form the dark gray workout gear that she's wearing, looking somewhat exhausted yet accomplished}

Yuna: The first thing that I want to say is that I'm sorry to you, Devi. I'm actually sorry that I beat you and that's not "pity" or "arrogance" speaking but something else entirely because if anyone understands what you're going through, then it's me.

You see Devi, I actually respect you and I mean that honestly and I was hoping that if I got you good and properly pissed off then maybe that could help you start getting back on the right track to recapture your former glory because you're just like me in that you are a serious wrestler stuck having the very company put those unworthy of being in the same ring with you before those with actual talent. 

Such as those pathetic little "Barbies" that fell off of the short fucking bus from a certain little dumpster fire promotion up north or those who love to claim that they are superior when in fact they are our *inferiors*...

I tried to get you good and pissed off, hoping that not only would you give me the fight for the ages, which you *DID*, but you would also be able to reach out and yank that victory out of my hands and claim it for your very...own....

{Yuna then runs her hands tiredly over her face for a moment before looking at the camera again}

Yuna: But that's not what happened, now is it? I spiked you and shattered those hopes of helping a fellow *wrestler* prove why people like us should be on top as opposed to *fake* little *flowers* such as Felix Hartley or Remi Skyfire.

Speaking of which...you and I have a brutal dance of destiny ahead of us, Miss Skyfire, now don't we?

This week on Odyssey, it's going to be myself and the young Izumi Takeda against the likes of you with another talentless no-named little *bitch* in Ruri Kuzunoha. 

Oh, and don't think that I've forgotten about you, Ruri, as the time for me to take you on again and twist that fucking little head of yours's off your pencil-neck and offer your head up to La Llorna as proof of your unworthiness to even *exist* in such a promotion like this one...but at this week's edition of Odyssey it's going to be a tag team affair and while I'm going to be working alongside this rookie to our sport, I hope that the little firecracker doesn't explode too quickly during this tag team match or otherwise it'll all over before one could get to the real blood and guts of the match!

But you, Little Izumi, I do hope that you're ready for this because in a match against two of these..."wrestlers" like Remi and Ruri, you have to keep your wits all about you otherwise that'll take the greatest of cheap shots and then it'll be all over but your crying and so freaking help me if you're the one who costs me this match, rookie, I'll help explain things to you on how to improve your wrestling abilities the hard way because I did not come all this way to freaking *INDONESIA* to loose this qualifier for the new Women's Tag Team titles, Izumi, so you'd best bring your best A game for this fight, kiddo.

So, Ruri and Remi, I want you to both bring your best because in the end, it's not going to be enough because I will advance in this little tournament to crown the very first OWA Women's Tag Team champions...even if I have to tear the both of you down *myself*!

{The screen then fades to black}

 

 
 
Bravo, Mr. De Leon. Hurrah. Excellent showing. I applaud you and not sarcastically. Your efforts were appreciated towards assisting in the mission to return prestige to a Championship lost amidst the madness of Kingdom. The bravery and audacious nature of your actions in totality should carry on to your lesser opposition in the next battles. For The Ruler, just going “I told you so” is the bare minimum of what is to be expected as I invite any and everyone to confront myself for this very Championship I hold. One challenge is not enough; one aspiring future champion is not enough. One match does not and will not define The Ruler’s first championship reign in years. To restore this Outlaw Championship’s prestige, as well as continue to display to OWA what type of Champion is needed, I need more. Celebrating my first successful defense will not due, as I’ve seen many men and women lose track of the effort it took to reach the position of ‘Champion”. Like a great YouTube Societal Commentator and Pan-African Scam Artist once said, “We must stay focused brothers; we must stay focused.”
 
 
Before speaking any further, I will address one additional thing in terms of business with the Kingdom brand. I was going to contain my thoughts a bit more, but I do not mind being a bit candid about this situation. I rather give my thoughts clearly before allowing some random Sports Analyst to pretend to be a mind reader, like they do with Kyrie Irving and Kevin Durant. So, Mr. Lance Hart, that nerdy commentator you all hear on Kingdom, well: he asked a five-hundred-dollar question: how does DT feel about my business associate Mr. Raivo’s actions towards the deceased body of one Mr. Michael Bishop? What does he have to say in regards to that man disrespecting his family face-to-face and spitting on that man’s face? Well now Mr. Raivo is taking what he feels is the next step towards the top in OWA, and I must say that boy has a lot more moxie in him than even I thought. The heartless amount of fortitude Mr. Raivo is putting on display in making his stance clear is more admirable than foolish, mostly extreme as opposed to honorable, but fitting, especially in an organization that rewards Habitual Line Stepping. Whatever personal matter Mr. Raivo has had with one Mr. Michael Bishop prior to his sudden death is all on him. Just looking what’s in store for him at the next edition of Kingdom in North Korea, if Mr. Raivo feels he can indeed Dance with the Devil that is Mr. Arata Asakura, alongside his little henchman in Mr. Jack Daito, to reach the Promise Land, so be it. Personally, I would rather move differently in order to stand even closer to the OWA World Championship, but I am going to trust Mr. Raivo in making a Chess move within this game of Risk he’s been playing. Since he is For The Minorities as he says, it’s fitting he sides alongside the Golden Yawn for a temporary business arrangement, but I will warn him of Arata and Daito, especially since I took a piece of Mr. Myojin’s ego at Final Destination Four, and despite the squabbling I saw with him and Mr. Arata, they are still a united front. I want Mr. Raivo to be especially careful, as I know while Arata may love to attempt to stand tall over everyone, he is very much a Japanese Nationalist and a Control Freak, and his goals greatly differ from my associate’s. Last time Mr. Raivo participated in a Warfare match, I was present and managed to dump one boy named Kyle on his head for the win. And If I have to go down to the ring and assure that Mr. Raivo gets a fair chance to do his opponents coming, especially that scoundrel Mr. Jason Long, I will go to there no problem. I still did not forget what boy did to even be in that Spartan Title match at Final Destination, and I would not mind evening the score with that little bitch.
 
 
(A secretary walks over to DT The Ruler in his chair and hands him notes on his next opponent; he then puts on his reading glasses and sees the name, quickly wincing at it in disgust)


DT The Ruler: Excuse me? What is this? Are you playing a joke here?


Secretary: No, sir. That actually is your opponent. I double-checked, even on the OWA.com site, sir. Tha-tha-that’s them.

DT The Ruler: *sigh* It’s fine. Go on…


(The secretary walked away from DT The Ruler in his chair as he waved her off, and he took a moment to glance at the few pages)
 


With this match coming, being set up against another new arrival to the Omega Wrestling Alliance and the Kingdom brand, understand I am no gatekeeper. You see gatekeepers most of the time are ones you meet before you are deemed acceptable to walk through reality after many trials, the person you meet to administer the final tests in order to see how you size up before you can be placed against the wolves of the forest and the sharks in the water, or someone who decides whether or not you should be allowed in a community or gathering of other like-minded individuals. I am not the 35^th Chamber of Shaolin, nor am I some sloppy, Mountain Dew and Cheetos guzzling Comic Book Guy judging the scantily clad cosplayers for not knowing every noteworthy quote of the first three Star Wars movies.


With another Outlaw Championship match comes another chance to add to the prestige lost. And while I should possibly feel insulted having to face another man debuting on Kingdom for the first time, I will suppress those feelings as best as possible. If this person comes with any modicum of the same type of vigorous energy and desire to win I noted in Mr. Alejandro De Leon as the match progressed, then the worth of my championship will continue to increase, and that’s a top priority. So, I skimmed the notes given to me by my secretary, and I must say: when I saw my opponent’s name, I thought I was experiencing a Bart prank-calling Moe’s Tavern moment. I was ready to fire that woman, truth be told, but then I remember what this business is. If I did judge books exclusively by their covers, I’d assume this random novice with a name like “Holden Tudics” was under the tutelage of notorious “wrestlers” with amazing names like Jynx Maze and Alexis Texas. But…I know better than to assume the lowest from the get-go. It’s strange, yes, but no stranger than something like Schwarzenegger, so we’ll roll with it. Thankfully, this man’s first match is in North Korea and not the United States, where immature, toilet humor still reigns supreme; the crowd would’ve probably laughed him out of the building.



Mr. Holden, much like my previous opposition, in your very first opportunity to impress the OWA audience, you are placed in a Championship match, one you have not shown you belong in, one you have not once proven to be deserving of prior to the next edition of Kingdom. But one thing I was reminded of this chaotic organization is that regardless of experience level, skill level, and mass appeal, almost anyone worth a damn can be given a chance to stand above the majority and win Championship gold. Some trash seeps through the cracks, but they become easily forgotten. But for this Championship’s sake, congratulations! You are worth a damn to someone. However, like my first opponent since obtaining this Championship: if you have to see me, that’s not good news, Mr. Tudics.

It's perfectly set-up for you, Mr. Holden…Tudics, as I found out that not only are you new but you are from some random part of Arkansas. Last person of note from there off the dome was Bill Clinton, and sadly we saw how that went. But anyways, you’re pretty much in line with one of those American Idol contestants, appearing from one of those small towns that arrogant executives place under the title of “Bumfuck Middle Of Nowhere” and with a chance of a lifetime to demonstrate your worthiness. Perfect Disney-level storytelling, fun for the whole family. KIDS LOVE IT. However, Mr. Holden, I will remind you that I am no gatekeeper or test proctor, as I already operate within the realms of reality, a reality that this profession does not take kindly to those unprepared and inexperienced. In this profession, those giving you the opportunity at MY title and then watching won’t assess you directly like an overly-optimistic choreographer and a has-been Pop Singer will. You’re being thrown to a hungry lion without really being put through trials and that is pretty unfortunate. When you enter the ring and you see The Ruler, even the smallest weaknesses in your wrestling tactics will appear the same size as sinkholes once that bell rings, and I am not forgiving of weaknesses. And against The Ruler, there are no do-overs or timeouts for screw-ups. The only similarity you’ll have with that aspiring singer from parts barely known is that you’ll only have one chance to impress the North Korean crowd.


From here, I can tell you more of what to expect when you enter the ring with a determined veteran and a man who knows what he’s doing when the match begins, a man who can adjust to conditions against his favor, with much more to lose than gain, and an absolute force against competition who gets too arrogant for their own good. But that’s just me cheating and slapping down some verbal copypasta from a little over a week ago. Truthfully, though, The Ruler welcomes a challenge of his abilities and repertoire, as that only improves my standing as champion in OWA, but the Burden of Proof is all on you to show out beyond the average beginner. Everything is on you, Mr. Holden Tudics, to show that you are indeed worth a damn. The ball is in your court for you to display your abilities against your Superior. I expect nothing less, as opportunities like this one you’re given, Mr. Holden, is not even something I gained. So, you have all the space to try; try really hard.