Barakallah fii umrik, happy birthday to Devi Krysis.

I know this is a day full of madness, but Allah is with us always and we shall preserve through all forces raised against us.

Personally, I am not one to listen too much to news and social media activity, otherwise known as propaganda. So it’s always amazing to me how rabid and lost the general populace can be when I come to hear their narratives spouted towards me. Oh, Maggall ran from OWA when things got tough. Maggall left after losing one match.  Intersectionality is the greatest force against white men. You’re copying the Black Sun. Maggall came back for handouts! If Maggall doesn’t like white people, why did join OWA with the Phantom Troupe? If they’re for the culture, why are they wrestling at the Festival instead of Harlem Heat?

The senseless prattle of infidels is endless!

Do none remember how I came to OWA in the first place?

I ventured to OWA under the leadership of The Phantom(also Black) Queen Aria Jaxon in November 2018, then leader of the Phantom Troupe.

I have heard of Arata Asakura’s connection with a godly being. Has this given him the power of time travel? I was so pro-black, people thought I must have been in Unchained long before anyone knew of Asakura, let alone his Black Sun.

The Phantom Troupe is one of the biggest failures known to OWA history. Can anyone tell me what could have POSSIBLY more tough for me than being saddled with a faction that was dead on arrival? If I stuck by doing the work, forced to carry Nolan Eliwood when everyone else bowed out and Aria stopped caring, why would I quit based on hard work later after I was on my own and became a champion?

Let’s not pretend OWA cares about handouts now. Allahuma Thabetna, do not even start. What have either teams done together to earn a shot against us? Whites are always like this. They are born with immense privilege but are the first to cry foul when another group is given the slightest break. Look through the history of WORLD champions, see those who never deserved it at the HIGHEST rungs of OWA, and worry not of Bad Boy Collective.

And since when does the BBC decide where we wrestle? The fact Sabertooth assumes that would be normal screams his privilege. So now I wonder if he and Jeff are the ones getting a handout title match. Now the ass beating given to them will be ten times worse.

There is nothing strange about my actions. Allah has merely shown me the way by how much he has punished me for my sins. I used to believe in the lies of intersectionality. Under Aria’s leadership, I first brutalized CM Nas and Jacob Senn on my debut here. In Wrestleworld, I foolishly didn’t learn my lesson, and listened to that white devil Claudia Michaels so I could help destroy the white devil Jaywalker. I still have love for sister Aria, but it does not change that she left me alone with losers like Nolan Eliwood. And Claudia betrayed me, just like all white women do the black cause when it suits them, and fired me on Juneteenth. When I work under the leadership of women, I suffer. But, when I work alone or with my fellows of colour, I am a champion!

That is why I vow to never listen to women again!

And no, I do not believe in intersectionality anymore, as white women are devils too!

Tell me Nami, if women are so great, why is it that they outnumber men in America and America is still as twisted as it is? Any single minority race gets near 20% percent population in America and the whites get scared that race will take over the entire country where their white agenda will never win an election again. But women are 50 %, do nothing, and we’re supposed to kiss your asses? Nami, nothing in this world exists without the direct support of women! Now I would not go as far as to blame everything on women, but they are overrated in how much people pretend that they would save us and make this world perfect. If women are so kind and pure-hearted, why do they, as the gender who votes the most, not made every elected official a good person? If they are so smart why do they not outsmart men and take over by now? Why do they not simply wake up and beat up the men they claim to be their evil oppressors if they are powerful? You know the answer. They can’t. They’re not leaders, and they’re even less fighters! You’re frail and weak, Nami! You’re telling me the Banshee broke you and sent you to JET???! She’s pretty big for a girl, but compared to me might as well be just another vanilla midget! If she could snap that arm of yours, what do you think I can do to your entire body if you mess with me? You can’t budge me, let alone lift me. Stop this nonsense, Nami. As I said, I do not hate women. I would not put my hands on you if you had not foolishly become a wrestler and been put in front of me. I just can’t tolerate undue credit being thrown your way. Women will never lead the revolution, Nami; You’re complacent. That’s why you should stay home under hijabs helping your men. If you disagree, why has there been the Unchained, BBC, and the Black Sun, yet no women have fought for racial or gender change here?

It’s true, I do have to have a bit of a sense of humour to play along with Bad Boy Know’s usage of white’s fearing the stereotypical BBC, but men know how to take a joke and realize revolutions aren’t perfect. Just like Bad Boy Know has to accept I’m not afraid to establish why we men are in charge. You’re actually a great example of the problem with intersectionality, Nami. White women will always back their men when times get tough, no even when times are good they’ll uplift their men, but here you are aligned with a white partner. Even worse, all you seem to do is bad mouth us, Serena Bennett and Dorado Enterprises, while bragging about how much money you make from horny white men buying your merchandise. Like most women, you’re all talk about hating men. You won’t take action! You’ll just count the money they give you and protect their system! You won’t fight by our side because deep down you know if we succeeded, there’d be less white perverts backing your lifestyle! But worry not Nami, just as they’re the twisted perverts who will enjoy watching you get hurt, they’ll also be the weak-willed fools that’ll pay your medical bills when you set up a GoFundMe.

Jeff you are one funny guy. I walk with Allah himself, why would I be concerned with Abholos and other of the beings in OWA? People get shot up and killed largely before they even become adults in my community, but a few bums get killed on Kingdom and I’m meant to be scared like this is a no go zone? You act like this is big bad a hood, but Father Fiora goes here! Kingdom is just filled with weak infidels, that’s why the bodies keep piling up on this brand. Now I’ve never witnessed your boogeyman mess with anyone down with the culture, so he’s cool with me if he keeps taking y’all out. As far as I see it, this is his and Arata’s home, so they’re the only ones I need be careful with at all, if I am to be at all. So I’ll mention any dead white boys that I feel like. As far as I know, Abholos might take it as a sign of respect to speak of his tributes! I feel like you got the wrong idea about me Jeff. You say things as if I’m one of you OWA lifers. I’ve only ever been here because people asked me to be, and then I stick around to fulfill my contract and do my thing for the culture, nothing more and nothing less. I was kicked out of the Wrestling Grotto, I have no true love for professional wrestling, let alone this company that has connections with allowing the ungrateful J-Dynasty members to be here. So what’s with the guilt trips about my work ethic and my loyalty? I’m a mercenary missionary or a missionary mercenary, depending on if your friend or foe to spreading the word of Allah and black power. You can crack all the weight jokes you want, but I move with the swiftness of Allah’s winds, I’ll be squashing you under my weight! When I’m not throwing you around like you’re a lightweight. You’re a grown man Jeff, but I’ll be treating you like a child in that ring. You say you won’t be sending your friends to get hurt anymore? It’ll be my pleasure to test your word.

As for Sabertooth. You seem to make a lot of strange assumptions too. Who said anything about black face? Do you have a guilty conscience? You white devils are an interesting breed. I can’t put anything past you, And this accusation about Elijah, why should I give a damn about his progress? I’m prize fighting wrestler, I don’t take it as my job to uplift some guy you people put your stock in. He’s just another you from when we first met, a punk with at title who couldn’t beat me, but unlike you the machine couldn’t save his title reign. I’m a double champion now, there’s million of black children out there that now have someone to look up to while they watch OWA. There’s even more brothers inside jail about to their turn lives around because they hear of what Allah has done for me! It’s too bad you don’t get along with Jeff, you too are a lot alike with this whole quit narrative. Is this some sort of “work is family” type of arrangement where you fools don’t realize a job is merely a place to make money and give people a product? I didn’t come here to be your friends. OWA is a corporation! OWA doesn’t care about you! It doesn’t care about me! If Oasis could make an extra dollar off it, he’d sell out any of you at the drop of a hat!  I knew it was bad here, but I didn’t know you were all slaves to capitalism this badly!  Being good little boys that tow the company line isn’t going to help you in this match when Nobi and I get to brutalizing you all.

Nobi’s a Hollywood star, he knows about getting paid and making content that revolutionizes the world instead of this kumbaya nonsense. That’s just another reason we get along. You’d never find either of us running around forgetting that this is a job. I swear, this whole never leave your job mindset is something whites invented when they needed new slaves. I’m not here to churn out classics on behalf of OWA. I’m here for as long as I can do something to help the cause and spread the world of anti-white capitalism. And yes, I know that means Nobi and I are both getting paid, but sometimes you have to subvert the system from within, just like how you need to put the BBC in some pussies to create new life.

Nobi and I are the only legitimate tag team in this contest. One team doesn’t even get along. The other is made up of losers that include Devi Krysis. They don’t have the chemistry, the brawn, the experience, but they’ll serve to prove a point to all of OWA to never mess with this collective.

There was one more night that remained between now and The Festival and considering the competition had been on one another’s necks since the match was made, the tension for this OWA Spartan Championship match has been at an all-time high. With the feed soon fading in, greeted with the sight of Jason Long sat in his office and looking out through the balcony window — seeing the moon rise in the distance as it began to get darker in the evening. His mind has been filled with possible scenarios of how this match could end for him. The chances of him walking out with the championship are slim to none with the odds stacked against him but considering the half-smile that rested on his face, he doesn’t seem so phased by it — in fact — he seems confident about himself. The Spartan King soon raised from his chair and walked around the desk to head closer to the balcony window. There’s a moment of silence before he turned to face the camera, beginning to speak.

“I remember when The Awakening first began — with Fiora, Quinn, and Blue — and I thought to myself that they were going to be something in the future. I watched them tumble, I’ve watched them fall over and over again, and I’ve watched them rise to the very top of their respective mountains. And even with the addition of Mark Michaels, I always had that feeling that — at some point — those four would stand at the top of Mount Olympus as the men they were. I might not have agreed with their actions now, but back then I was all for the carnage and chaos they controlled. I used to think that — if The Awakening would ever show up on Kingdom — they would have continued their own chaos over here and there’d be nobody else left who could’ve stopped them apart from The Frontline. Listen to my words when I speak, gentlemen. I used to think highly of you two. I used to think you’d be higher powers on this brand if you had the chance to show up. I used to believe in what message you two were bringing over there on Olympus. But now that I see what The Awakening has become right now? You’ve left me more disappointed with how much you’ve fallen down from your perches. Mark Michaels and Eon Blue are doing their own thing over on Olympus, they’re running their own shit and they’re calling their own shots, after being held back against someone like Fiora. And speaking of the other two? I mean, look where they’ve gotten since coming onto the gold brand. For a group that was so dominant and so powerful that it seemed like nobody was able to stop them — not even being brought to hell and back — all that you could see in them is former shells of themselves. Former shadows of their own past. Images of their old selves of when they were in the peak of their time.

Noah Quinn and Father Nathan Fiora — both of you together are a tough challenge to take down and that’s no lie, I’m sure you’ll even admit to it yourselves. But I can’t look at you and forget where you both came from. Noah Quinn was the Apex of Television and you, Fiora, were an Omega Heavyweight Champion. A messiah to the masses that have looked to the heavens for answers and allowed you to answer their calls. But it doesn’t make sense when you think about it because at first, The Awakening was slowly riding high. Though there was no luck in the Dark Kingdom Tournament, you found a way to release the demon of Havoc from Sabertooth and allowed him to join your ranks. But ever since then, since the first night of Game Over, nothing was ever the same again for The Awakening. Every turn, every corner, every sight on something always resulted in failure. For when it was the OWA World Championship, nothing was gained. For when it was the Outlaw Championship, nothing was gained. For when it was the Spartan Championship, nothing was gained. And even when you had to fight for the attention to be placed onto you all? You’ve both crumbled at the feet of those far superior from you. This is what The Awakening have become, this is what they’ve shown themselves to be and yet — they have continued to show how naive they seem to be as they reach out for one more chance. One more shot. One more moment to prove themselves. Not knowing that all hope for them has since long passed on and the numbers game that they might think they have for one another seems to be fiction.”

That gives Jason a laugh as he steps closer to his desk, picking up the championship and resting it down on his shoulder, allowing it to shine in the sun’s setting light. The first person on his mind out of the two? A man he has faced many times in the past. Noah Quinn. A confident smile soon appeared on the face of The King followed swiftly by a light chuckle.

“Noah Quinn, a man that knows how great it feels to be at the top of a mountain like mine. When I first heard you saying that ‘it must be great standing at the top’, I always remind myself that you know what that high is like. You know what it’s like to be where I stand. So why don’t you elaborate on what it means to be where I am today? ...ah yeah, that’s right. I forgot that I’ve accomplished so much more than you. The mountain I stand at the top of is nothing compared to the one you stood on. How could I have forgotten? You see, Noah, I had a feeling that you’d be the first to jump on the bandwagon of my recent losses and when I first heard it from you? I couldn’t help but to laugh because it’s like you’ve forgotten that out of the possible fifteen matches I’ve had since the beginning? I’ve only lost three times. I’ve only lost three times and that’s almost the same amount of times that I’ve beaten you. So, yeah, I find it hilarious when you try to mock me of my losses. I find it absolutely hilarious that you try to make fun of me for losing to Christopher Sabertooth and Nathan Fiora, Noah. How was that loss to The Frontline and The Mafia, Noah? I’m sure you remember it, when you carried the whole team on your back and fought three to one. You’re so predictable, Noah. You’re just way too predictable when it comes to this and it’s embarrassing to sometimes listen to you speak knowing that you can’t even be half-arsed to just pay attention and look shit up.

Although I repeat myself when saying this — I thought I taught you the first time. I thought I taught you the second time. Now, I have to teach you the third time about the same fucking thing again. But the more you come back to me and the more that you open your mouth towards me, It makes me think of how much you’ve just ignored everything that I’ve ever taught you in the past and that’s a worrying thing to say the least. Because as much as nobody else would have the fucking balls to admit it, Noah? I see a major fucking successful star on the horizon in you. I saw that when you held the Television Championship and I know you have that in you. But please, elaborate to me why you keep coming back and begging for more. Please, elaborate on why I should be the man you need to beat to find peace with. I just don’t get it. And I’ll tell you why I get so confused when you say that, Noah, it’s because — in my mind — I am the last person you want to look towards when trying to find peace for yourself. Yes, I have beaten you multiple times right now but haven’t you thought about the man that’s been holding you back for so long now? Haven’t you thought to yourself that the man that’s been holding you back for over a year now is the reason why you haven’t found peace? Don’t get me wrong, Noah. I appreciate you commenting and calling me your ‘final boss’, I am honoured to be such but you’re fighting me for the wrong reasons. And all of this talk is just a waste of time. Hell, it just seems to me that you’re desperate and for nothing.

‘But— Mister Long, I really need that championship. I really need to find myself. I really need this win. I cannot afford to lose. Please give me this win and I won’t hurt you as much as I would with Fiora. Just let me have the Spartan’s Championship so I can find myself again. Please. Please. Please!’

I have never met a man who has pleaded for their life to be given something so he could feel alive once again. Are you seriously unaware of how pathetic and stupid you sound when I pratically hear you beg for me to just give up and give in — hand in the championship to you and let you live the life you were destined for, fuck everything else because nothing really mattered, so long as you had that briefcase and you’ve beaten all of my friends to try and bring yourself onto my level but that’s the problem with you is that you haven’t got a clue to what it takes to beat me. You see, when Kevin Maverick pinned me? My eye was off the ball. I was distracted and he took advantage. When Nathan Fiora pinned me? My eye was off of the ball again because he had Miltiades come out to cause a distraction before landing a low blow. Christopher Sabertooth is the only man to stand face to face with me and beat me like the fucking man I am. No bulllshit or anything. If you speak of my losses, then I hope to god that you are studying them well and you know what it takes to put me down. Considering what I’ve already told you? It takes a whole fuckin’ lot. What did it take me to beat you? Almost breaking your neck and popping your shoulder out of your socket. You and I are not the same, Noah. And I hope that — after all of this is said and done — you finally find the common sense you need to realise that.”

A simple side-to-side shake of the head as Jason dropped the championship from his shoulder and back into his hands again, taking a moment before moving onto the last man in the last — Nathan Fiora. Knowing how heated he got by even speaking about him, Jason took a longer moment to prepare himself.

“You know what I love seeing from someone like you, Fiora? Those inflated egos of theirs.

I spent about five minutes of my valuable time just basically listening to you stroking your tiny fucking cock about a win in a wrestling match — where you didn’t even win fairly but still treated it as it’s your proudest win to date — and as much as I’d like to stand here and correct you for how much bullshit you’re putting out there into the world? I think it’s just time I give up and let you do your own thing. Like, you know, it’s bad enough that your ego is already that fucking massive and infated that you need to stroke it a little bit more over something so overplayed out but then to constantly bring it up over and over again like it’s breaking fucking news on whatever news channel they have in New York? There’s just a time and a place where that can be settled with, Nathan, and I’m just done trying to ever settle that with you. Seriously, a match where there was interference and illegal moves and then it somehow is accepted as a chance to step forward and take this championship from me? Alright. Everything else will tell you otherwise but keep it up, man. Rest assured that nobody in the past seven or eight months have ever payed attention to a single fucking thing you’ve said. And then, you have the absolute fucking audacity to tell me that I — five-time World Champion all over the damn world, Jason Long — am not in the same league as Father Nathan Fiora? The same man whose only claim to fame came from matches that were called ‘I Simp Matches’? The same man whose only claim to fame is holding onto the cursed piece of shit title known as the Omega Heavyweight Championship? That’s the man that I am not on the same level as? Alright then, name me a memorable Nathan Fiora match that isn’t the same one where Darkane fucking killed him. I’ll wait.

You tell me you’d die for your beliefs, Nathan, but I find that very hard to believe because if that’s the case then your only belief worth almost dying for is your losses and I know that’s not what you’re going to come back and correct me with. But didn’t you almost die inside of the Chaos Crypt last year in a losing effort? Didn’t you almost die when Darkane took the Omega Heavyweight Championship from you? Didn’t you almost die after that fall in the Circus Deathmatch at Hardcore Havoc? ‘Die for my beliefs’, and the only thing to prove that point is every loss you’ve eaten. You’re just as fucking naive as Noah Quinn. No fucking wonder both of you are so close to one another. You’re standing there and telling me that you pushed me to my limit but you didn’t, Nathan. But you’re right about one thing, and I’m so fucking glad that you brought it yourself, Nathan. This is a Triple Threat match and there’s no rules. Obviously, your choice of words thinking I’d wanted this to be a clean fight? Wrong observation, my friend. I’ll be beating the fucking piss out of both of you with whatever I can get my hands on. Especially you, Fiora. And trust me when I tell you this, I have waited two fucking months to make sure that I got my fucking hands on you again for the bullshit that you pulled on me. You said you’d die for your beliefs then let’s test that theory and see how close to death I can bring you for your beliefs to come true.

But this is it for us all. One last ride into the sunset for all three of us.

I’ve learned throughout my time as a wrestler that not everything is meant to last forever — and I’ve definitely known that clearly with the numerous amount of championships that I’ve held — but I’ve always dreaded the day that I lose this championship because I know that I’ve been a fucking great champion and I know I’ve done a whole lot for this belt and for this division and I lived up to the promises I kept close to me. But you forget one thing. I will die for this championship. I will die for this division. I will die to make sure the legacy of this championship is kept and I WILL DIE TO MAKE SURE THAT THIS CHAMPIONSHIP WILL CARRY ON WHAT I GAVE IT.

And let’s be real — I am nowhere finished with this championship so soon. I have so much left to carry out. I have so much left in the tank to make sure I continue to carry this championship through main events and pay-per-views in ways that it has never been showcased before. The Awakening may think for one second that the only thing that dies this weekend is my championship reign but that’s far from the truth. The only thing that dies this weekend is The Awakening itself. I am hammering down the final nails in both of your fucking coffins and I am throwing in the last patch of soil as you are placed into your own graves. You might not think it to be the truth but trust me boys, the worst fucking mistake of your lives was putting the numbers game on me because when the odds are stacked against me? I always win. It’s happened before. It’ll happen again. This match won’t make things different.

Because when you come at the king, you best not fucking miss. And for the past seven or eight months, Awakening? Miss after miss after miss— AFTER. FUCKING. MISS. AND THIS WILL BE NO DIFFERENT THAN THE ATTEMPTS BEFORE IN THE PAST.

Noah Quinn. Nathan Fiora. May god have mercy on your wretched fucking souls come The Festival.”

He takes a deep breath as he holds the championship up to head height. Keeping a sick smile on his face.

“Pray.

Your.

God.”

The smile is soon wiped from his face and he drops the championship from the shot before walking out of the shot and allowing the lights to dim within the room.

Fade to black.

KINGDOM II: REVIVAL

I have a special place for you two, Noah and Jason. Prepare for the flames of your sins to consume you for belittling me as much as you two have.

What do you believe I’m here for? Did you really think I’d be the man you’d be pinning on Sunday? Don’t make me laugh. I’m not that much of a fool; my strategies are planned in advance and now that each of us has said our piece, it is time for the final countdown. Each of us wants to win this match and leave with the Spartan title at the end of the night, but by the nature of this match, only one of us is leaving with it. All alliances are off and my only remaining disciple has betrayed me by turning his back on me. He believes that pleasing this world and the fools here will give him the glory he thinks he deserves. Jason, you hold yourself to a mantra that is a facade of what the world wants to see in their heroes. You act all moral but you really aren’t that; you’re a flawed individual who desperately seeks to please those you’re atoning your sins for. That isn’t to say both of you aren’t spectacular individuals in the ring, far from that; you’re two of the most promising talents that OWA has, but are vulnerable to becoming nothing but another body here. I’ve seen guys like you two come in and out of this company over the last three and a half years. They were all talented like you two were, but they lacked knowing the reality that this company will chew you and spit you out unless you carve your own path by force. Some went through the motions and faded into obscurity while others, like me, were able to change the game and win a world title when nobody thought they ever would. The point I’m trying to make is that people’s opinions don’t matter. If you spend your time trying to be some goody two shoes for the people and kids, then you are just being fake. Who cares if Chris is trying to atone for his sins? All the people he killed and harmed will remain there; he is acting as if that never happened and that he can walk with his friends again. Noah, who cares if you’re trying to be just like Chris, people will always know you to be the guy who cheated to win time after time; that will never escape you. Every time someone challenges you, it’ll be already in their gun’s ammunition; you will be ridiculed by all for turning your back on your father. Jason, you are just the same as both these men; you are nothing but a man who was possessed and committed some truly evil deeds. You have not been forgiven for them! The ones in the sky above have told me that you all are still being judged for your sins, no matter how much time passes by. You have not been washed by the blood of the saints and are doomed to exist in misery. No matter what, you will live with the weight of your sins holding down on your conscience. In my case, I’m a free man. The heavens have blessed me to the point where I feel like I can float, free from any shackles that may hold me down. You can name all the sins I’ve committed but since I’m a new man, none of those sorrows apply to me anymore. I’ve been cleansed with the holy water and bleached by the holy fire that saves my soul. I know that I’m an animal; a beast who can hurt others, but my purpose lies in the sky where voices whisper sweet words of instruction to what I must do next. They’re telling me that they need the Spartan Championship in my hands to continue the success of their doctrine. This is how I will continue my legacy and continue to wash myself of any marks that I may gain while living out my purpose.

I seek a purer world with everyone’s true intentions out in the light. Jason, you do not represent that philosophy as a champion. You parade around your former enemies acting as if you’ve learned so many big lessons since you left The Ashes, but you are a fraud. You didn’t accept Chris’ apology until after you fought him, which didn’t matter. His words should’ve mattered if you were truly such a good guy. Instead, you thought beating him down would be more satisfying. Is this really who our kids should look up to?! You seem tired of facing The Awakening but really, shouldn’t your mentality as a champion be fighting every challenger that comes your way? Isn’t of complaining maybe you should be the champion that you “promised” to be and take any challenge and coming out triumphantly. You sound like the people you hate on; ones who want to take any shortcut possible to avoid trouble. You just want a newer guy to face so you can easily rack up your stats, but that isn’t what is happening here. Not even I would complain this much as a champion yet I’m viewed as human scum. What does that make you, Jason? You think I’m some sort of snake, waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike...no you’re wrong. I did strike when I needed to because this ultimately might end up being the final shot Noah ended up having for the title. I wanted to ensure this title ended up in one of our hands, but after Noah’s words, my focus has changed. I want this title to end up in my hands alone. You frown at me being a master tactician and influencing outside factors to win my matches, but you act as if you’ve never done that in your life. You worked for a literal demon who killed people, I don’t want to hear anything about you looking down on me. You’re human scum, the worst kind of it; you are a hypocrite who toots his own horn attempting to show how good he is. You hide in your criticisms and believe that your words are true, but your mind is in shambles. I messed with your mind and you couldn’t handle it after I beat you. I can’t believe a simple defeat has hurt you this badly and you know what’s worse? The audacity you have for blaming me for your own failures. I did what I needed to, just as I have said time and time again. Stop acting like you haven’t interfered in matches either because you absolutely have, so where’s the same energy for that? Oh wait, you’re one of those people who constantly criticize others for the same things you’ve done. Chris beat you afterward but as you indicated, I derailed you and hurt your momentum. You weren’t at 100% for that match, but you were for mine. How does Chris get the praise for beating you at 60% when I beat you at 100%? I did use some tactics for sure and I own up to them, but again I’m an opportunist. Instead of complaining and whining about your losses, maybe you should start strategizing kid because another loss is coming your way if you don’t change up the way that you’re doing things. Your morale is low and you complaining again and again isn’t going to fix that. Do you see me complaining about my loss? No, I’ve owned up to it and moved along because I know I cannot falter and let previous losses get to me. I’ve lost so many times in my career yet I’ve been able to accomplish everything I have throughout my career. You’re simply a sore loser who pretends he’s some sort of hero who’s inspiring people by preaching moral values that you just got from some scam of a book. I live the ideals I preach about and I would die by them. I’ve accomplished a lot more than you have on that alone, Maverick. I did what you couldn’t do either; I beat Chris in a match by my own merits and made the man that beat you clean in the ring. Imagine what I can do if that’s what I did to Chris. I know I can beat you “clean”, but that’s not fun and there are many more factors to consider. Who knows who may interfere; maybe you’ll get your boys to jump Noah and me. Maybe The Black Sun comes up and screws you, I’m not sure what could happen. My plans are devised from whatever may come and I make sure I win definitively, at any cost possible. I have no shame about it; I’m so creative. Why waste my energy on moves that may not take you out at first compared to just using some tactics that will take you out for sure? I have beat you with those strategies as well and been in a world championship match, something that you can only dream to do at this stage of your career. 

I’ve addressed my failure to Noah and I understand his frustration, I was absolutely not there for him when he needed me at my best. But, a side effect was that I’m very healed up while Noah might still be a bit beat up. He did betray me so what happens to him right now doesn’t matter. If he apologizes, I’d be a bit more apologetic for my actions; I’ve already atoned for my sins with the voices above so nothing else matters to me at this moment in time. All my friends, my disciples, have betrayed me and I can only count on myself. Noah deserves no sympathy for turning his back on the person who was the most patient with him. I made a strategic move to enter myself into this match; yes I must deal with two other people, but usually, the champion is the main target. That actually lowers your chances of winning and creates a lot of opportunities for me to sweep in and get the win. You are the Spartan King, but noble causes never has gotten anyone anywhere. This title is the workhorse title, but I am ready to reimagine what that means. I’ve put instant classics, but living by human standards is not what I intend to do. My legacy is going to lead me to heaven while a legacy for worldly things would just get me nowhere. It would lead me to be upset about things you already know about me, Jason. Why are you so angry about something you’ve known about me? Isn’t that a waste of energy? Shouldn’t you be putting that energy into preparing for this match? This match will be no DQ, so there are so many factors you should be thinking about instead of crying like a baby about how I decided to be smart and take things into my own hands. I want to be the only Nathan Fiora and not the next Jason Long; I’m not going to degrade myself to be a former demon sympathizer and one of the fakest performers in this company’s history. I am going to be the darkhorse champion; one of the most unexpected victories in company history. Being a former world champion has allowed me to perform when I need to the most and this is one of those instances. You ignore this Maverick, and yes, I’ll keep calling you that because you really haven’t changed; you’ve just put on a more family-friendly mask for yourself and for your “friends”. I’m a champion who fought and clawed his way to every victory; just because you didn’t agree with my tactics doesn’t mean I can’t be a legitimate champion. You have the least right to be the morality police, especially with what you’ve done and continue to do in your reign as champion. You’re a fraud who pretends he’s some symbol of what a workhorse should look like. You don’t know anything about being pure and a hero; I should rip off your tongue for speaking such blasphemy. The voices are telling me that you are a false prophet sent by the demons on this world to promote spartan classism. You believe that anyone who will beat you is not legitimate unless they beat you in the way you’d like them to. That is big baby behavior and while you might not see it, the judges will. They’ve been telling me that people like you shouldn’t embody any type of moral position because you are weak. If you continue falling apart like this, it’ll be no time before you change your allegiances again and work towards those you supposedly fight for. You have no backbone and you do not have any respect from me for anything but your in-ring ability.

Noah, our battle will come to a resolution on Sunday. I’m sorry you made the poor decision to abandon the one who made you the man you are today. You want to be a champion, a man on his own, but you’ve always lived in my shadow. Within The Awakening, the only time you’ve succeeded is when I’ve guided you or had to hold your hand. How do you even believe that you can beat Jason when you’ve failed every other time? I left you to your own devices and honestly, that was a mistake. You were not ready for such responsibilities and even when I failed, you still could not succeed in my absence. How is that supposed to make me feel? How do you believe you can surpass me when you haven’t indicated that you can do a task on your own? What if you fail again? Are you gonna blame me for your failure this time? You better not put my name in your mouth because I’m TIRED of your poor excuses as to why you couldn’t get the job done. Were you more competent and capable on your own, the title would be in our hands, but you had to wait for me to get involved so you actually gave a damn. You’re frustrated with me but you have no right to be beside my failure at Hardcore Havoc. I’m frustrated with me having to clean up the mess you made because now Jason is complaining about you to me. Your failures impact me and affect what people think about me and yet you continue to have the foolish thought that I’m somehow holding you back? You are responsible for your own failures. If you were really this bird ready to fly and live your dreams, then you wouldn’t be the loser that you are right now. The truth hurts kid, but I need to tell you as the person who has seen you at your best and lowest; my words actually mean something because I’ve been with you every step of the way. I’ve watched you grow into an A-caliber champion to now being an F grade degenerate who’s become rebellious because of his own will. Don’t make me have to pick you up from the pigsty after you’ve fallen so deep into this world’s sinful nature. You believe in the notion of blaming other people for your failure; you lost the match along with us, no matter how much of a performance you put up. You should be proud of yourself but throwing every single of us down the bus for a failure on your behalf is just evidence of how much your ego has been overblown. I never said the same about you or the former members of The Awakening. I always said to pick up your heads and continue on because that is what needed to be done. From the start, you’ve doubted my word and have relied on your own and now that’s in full force. I cannot allow this betrayal to go without punishment and I must show you why you are in the wrong. My victory is going to humble you to depths that you can’t imagine. You will be beside yourself, asking for my forgiveness for your mistakes. Guess what I will say to you after you say this to me…”I forgive you”. Yes, I’ll forgive you for your transgressions, but your actions have dire consequences. I will never accept you like I once did again because you easily abandoned me when I made a mistake. I cannot trust you and that is something you will have to atone for on your own accord. I trusted you with my career Noah and it is very obvious that you never did and never will. You used me as a stepping stone for your own greatness and forgot how our friendship helped you soar beyond anyone’s expectations. You failed me.

I wait here patiently for our match because I feel ready to claim what is mine. There is no hope left in this world but me. The trust I had relied on for so long seems to fade away and I know I am the only one who truly knows the way to salvation. I will not falter and I will see you both in the eternal flames of damnation. None of you are worthy to hold up the Spartan Championship, but me? I am worthy. I will bring in a new age to Kingdom; one that embraces new ways to be a Spartan and not this high and mighty garbage that has been spoonfed to the OWA fans. My vision is the only one worth existing and I will see the rest rot; my plans are greater than anyone’s basic logic. The regular human mind cannot comprehend. The Spartan Father will rise and you will all know his name. MAY YOU ALL ROT UNDER THE DIRT WITH ALL OF YOUR SINS, HEATHENS.

So, The Festival is coming right up. Whether or not you’re a fan of Azumi Goto, J.D. Damon, or Theodor Pavel, the triple threat match to determine the #1 contender to the OWA World Heavyweight Championship has definitely drawn some interest. As part of his way to help promote the company, as well as his other employer, SWWS, Theodor decided to take a chance with a rare public appearance in New York City’s Times Square. The city that never sleeps, and it definitely lived up to it’s moniker. With his trusty friend Veronica Landis, who is the personal assistant to his business manager Banch Morgan, by his side… Nothing bad can happen, right? Of course not.

November 19th, 2021
2:37am EST

“I only came here to go to the Disney Store. Misaki wanted something and I thought it would be fun. They’re closed. Still, there are so many people walking around. Later tonight, I will fight a man who has not lost in six years. Two nights later, I’m off to Brooklyn to become the #1 Contender. Busy weekend for me, yes.”

(Wielding the camera on her cell phone, Veronica is filming good ol Theodor as he aimlessly walks around the beautiful Times Square. When Theodor first moved into the United States, he lived out towards the Los Angeles area, so the idea of big lights and never ending nights has already been bestowed upon him. This was different though. Rocking a charcoal grey three-piece suit and a relaxing overcoat, Theodor is quickly recognized by some of the New York faithful. Without any issues, he takes pictures with fans, even signing a few autographs along the way. His name was definitely getting out there.)

“Veronica, I know people are expecting me to say all these nasty things about Azumi and Damon. They want me to be angry, they want me to take shots at them. Why do this? I actually am looking forward to being in this match. More so than anything else, I want to show the entire world that this isn’t the Theodor Pavel that was being dragged into darkness by a cursed final run with the Outlaw Championship. I’m not the man who was begging for a cure to a sickness that wasn’t real. I’m free, right?”

(Looking around at a few people, he still sees enemies. It’s not PTSD or anything, right? He shudders for a moment while still trying to maintain that professionalism. It doesn’t last long though, as somebody taps him on the shoulder. Theodor immediately goes into fight mode, turning quickly.)

“Oh shit! You!”

(Theodor laughs to himself, giving the man a big hug. It’s his longtime mentor and Chairman of SWWS, Banch Morgan.)

“I thought you were dead, or drunk!”

“Well, one of them, that’s for sure!”

(Morgan appears to be a little inebriated. That’s okay, it’s been a long few months for the Modern Day Goliath. Still, Theodor’s journey never left his thoughts.)

“So, what do we got going on here?”

“Well, I’m talking about the match with Azumi and Damon on the 21st in Brooklyn. If I win, I become the #1 contender.”

“I know, I gotcha. Want to do a little throwback?”

“Of course!”

(Morgan puts his arm around Theodor as the two look over at the camera that Veronica is holding.)

“Hey, OWA.. What took you guys so damn long? Do you know who this man is? This is the Hands of Ice.. The ‘Mâinile de gheață’ Theodor Pavel! You guys have waited THIS long to put him in a position where he can become YOUR guy? This man is the SWWS World Heavyweight Champion, and the best wrestler on the planet today. Now, NOW you look at him as a guy who can possibly run with this thing? Vision, man. Come on. This is what happens when places take a nice guy, and make him do things that he had no business doing. Outlaw Championship? No. World Championship. That’s Theodor’s calling. Look over there, please.”

(Theodor appears to be cringing at the rant of his good friend while Morgan points up at the signs in Times Square.)

“Why is Theodor’s face NOT on them? Why isn’t his name in all of the brightest lights in New York City? Theo, you got Azumi and you got Damon. I know those two, they don’t like me.”

“Well, I don’t kn..”

“It’s fine. Look at his track record, Azumi. I haven’t been keeping the greatest tabs out there, but I can tell you this right now. You’re a Hall of Famer for this company. Great job, we were so proud. You probably beat some tough guys along the way, you have not defeated The Hands of Ice. You haven’t done that, and honestly, you never will. I can count on on every hand in New York City the amount of people that I’d love to see Theodor kick the head off of. You, after eve..”

“Mr. Morgan?”

“What?”

“She’s a friend of mine. She’s okay, I like Azumi. Great wrestler, there’s no problem.”

“Oh. Maybe you’re better off handling this one, I gotcha.”

“Thank you. Azumi, I know this is going to be one hell of a fight with you. We’ve been in a bad spot with the Black Sun. We flew right up to the sun, and we didn’t fall back to Earth, we beat them. You, Bishop, and I took care of part of the problem. There’s bigger problems, yes. I heard what you said. To be honest, I didn’t think about some of the things until you said it. You have more on the line against Asakura than I do, yes. I won’t say it isn’t true. I will even say that if you face him, you can beat him. There are plenty on the roster who can, a lot of them haven’t been given a chance. This is personal for you. When you make a reference to my wife, that hits me. I wouldn’t wish for that on her ever, and I’m sorry that it happened to you. So, I’ll admit that I wasn’t looking at that when I was speaking before. I was caught in the emotion of the moment and missed a lot of things. 


I missed the idea that you would be able to avenge your family, and correct the errors that have come with this war with Asakura. You need to fight him, no denying this. You need to beat him, no denying that. You need to wait though, because you won’t be doing it until I take his title. This entire mindframe that it has to be you that defeats him, I disagree. You expect me to disagree though, that’s why we’re here and fighting in Brooklyn. As personal as it is for you, it is personal for me too. Asakura didn’t manipulate Misaki or any family member of mine into his cult. No, he didn’t do this, but he did take something very valuable from me. My trust, unfortunately, is very important to me. It takes a lot for me to bond with somebody and understand them. The whole time, it was a lie though. I didn’t know this, and because of that, I have to face that. I have to look in the eye of the man who betrayed friends and I. That’s important to me. Motivation aside, I feel I am the only one in this match who will defeat him for that title. Not because you cannot do it, but because I know I will.”

(Morgan, hearing the words of Theodor, slowly backs up with a smile on his face. It’s so beautiful to see how far the Hands of Ice has grown over the last year.)

“That’s pretty good. Hey, where’s that Naked Cowboy guy at? I want to hear him sing.”

(Immediately disappearing from the shot of the camera, Morgan begins his own journey.)

“The fuck? Why would a man be singing naked here? It’s cold.”

(Reshuffling the deck, so to speak, Theodor attempts to get back on track. He begins a walk down 7th Avenue, seeing some beautiful sights along the way.)

“I’m sorry. Lost in the moment here, but I promise.. I will be focused on that ring in Brooklyn. There’s too much on the line. Unfortunately for all of us, only one can win. Can it be the redemption for Azumi Goto’s family? Maybe. That would require me to lose though, and I don’t see this. You’re very talented, very smart, Azumi, but you know by now that I’m not a simple man who will lay down. I will not stand back and take a defeat for the fun of it. If you want to defeat me, Azumi, you’re going to have to reach down into levels you may not have. Plenty of levels for you, you’ve done this so long. Passion can lead to blindness though, I saw this on TV. When something really bad happens to someone, they can go blind. I feel this is what you’re doing to yourself with everything going on. I feel blind too, sometimes. When my heart hurts and I feel that there’s no way to escape, I see red. I get tunnel vision. You’re doing the same thing as I have. I don’t have this tunnel vision though, not on the 21st. Not a chance.”

(Continuing his walk down the street, Theodor can hear Morgan talking to somebody across the way. ‘Where is Panda Express? Come see us whip some idiots at Standoff! Citi Field! AKIKO!!! AKIKO!!!’ He turns his head to see what’s going on, and it’s Morgan in his perky self, eating a hot dog.)

“Where did he get the hot dog? This city, I swear. I’m used to sitting at home and watching the world around me, but not used to seeing a 40 year old man yell at traffic with a hot dog. New York.. New York is the perfect city for this match, when you think about it. The idea of all of the title matches for the Festival. The thought that Finnegan Wakefield could walk away with the Championship, it could happen. Bishop and Jeff X will win their titles, and I have a chance to actually go for a title that is the highest prize in OWA. The world changes, that’s for sure. The Frontline is resting on its morals, and they’re relying on one of us to beat a Shotgun. Or is it Shogun? I don’t even care right now, that’s for when I kick his head off. I know you want to do the same, Damon.”

(Finally, a park bench..And of course someone is sitting there. Too bad for them. Theodor walks over to the bench and sits beside the gentleman who appears to not be from Wall Street. Maybe in the 80s. The guy rambles quietly to himself while Theodor relaxes.)

“Excuse me, do you know J.D. Damon?”

“He’s a yankee!”

(Confused by the answer, he eyeballs the man.)

“Yankee?”

“Dumbass, New York Yankees. He played for them!”

“Oh! I didn’t know this. Was he good?”

“He could hit the baseball as far as the eye could see. Come around and I tell you a tale.. Do you have any change?”

“No.”

“They never do. Who’s the fox with the phone?”

“Fox? Okay, this is not going right. I was asking if you knew J.D. Damon.”

“He’s a Yankee! Amazing player, hit the ba..”

“Yes, yes. As far as the eye could see. I hear you. Did you know I’m fighting him this weekend for a chance to become the OWA World Heavyweight Champion?”

“I like Derek Jeter better.”

(Unable to get any more information out of the man, Theodor tries to recover his thoughts on what just happened.)

“The man over here, he knows you, J.D. Maybe he knows you better than I do. I didn’t know you played baseball. I do know, though, that you’ve fought by my side for a long time. It wasn’t always this way, and I forgot. You’re a wolf. You’ll always be a wolf, but to me.. You’ll always be my brother in the Frontline. Brothers fight, brothers argue, brothers win and they lose. One of us will lose in Brooklyn. Whether or not it’s you or myself, we have a task that we need to take care of. You’ve beaten him, I’ve beaten lies out of him. At least, those lies were lies to us. Maybe he doesn’t think he’s lying. Maybe he thinks he’s right. Maybe you think you’re right when you say that the only way that Asakura will lose the title, is if he loses it to you. How good are you, really? You have built this entire world in your mind that says you can be the only one, not anybody else. I know this isn’t true.


I know any one of the three of us can get in there and defeat him. We all have different reasons, but yours.. I don’t buy it. Azumi is fighting for her family. I'm fighting to end this once and for all and bring the belt where it deserves to be, with US. You, I don’t understand. You’ve talked a lot, and there’s nothing wrong with speaking your mind. I respect that. I don’t respect that you keep pushing me down the totem pole because you say I’m too young, I’m too stupid to understand what is on the line. Let me tell you something, and please listen.


I have fought my brothers before, look at Final Destination. I beat my brother, the same one that I would give my life for. I took a nearly unbeatable demon of a man and pushed him beyond his limits, did I win? No. I was that close though. Bishop and I were dumped down a hill, left for dead by those men and women that call Arata Asakura some kind of God. We fought them, you’ve fought them. We’ve been on the same side, fighting the same wars, but you have something else on your mind. You have the one thing that I know will cost you this match, the same mistake everyone before me has made. You look past me..


You look past me because you still see age, you still see inexperience. What you don’t see is what is going to defeat you. They never see it coming. So blinded by their perception of what makes a Champion, they never get the true vision until they get a View of the Lights. You haven’t felt it yet, but many others have. All it takes is that one second, you won’t even hear the three count or the bell. People have told me this. I was with Bishop at a bar one night, and he told me his side from Final Destination. I’ve heard others actually say they nearly shit their pants from the impact, laying in near filth because of that kick. It has put down many, why do you think you won’t feel one too? Will you lay in gear filled with shit, or will you go deaf for that moment? 


Those are the questions I have for you. Once we get to Brooklyn though, I guess I’ll find out the answer by the end of the night. Either you shake my hand after the match, win, lose, or draw… Or you walk away from me. My hand will be waiting the same as it always has. Same goes for Azumi. This is nothing personal, I have nothing but love for both of you. I cannot waste this chance, I cannot sit on the sidelines anymore and wait for something to come. It never comes… I have to take that chance. In the meantime, I want everyone to know this..


Fie că sunteți Frontline, o inimă de fier, sau un bun prieten ... Nu-mi sta în cale.”

(He has finally been able to get everything off of his chest. Theodor leans back on the bench with a confident smile prior to looking at the possibly homeless man.)

“Tell me more about these Yankees. Are they good?”

(The idle talk from Theodor to the man begins as the bustling world inside of Times Square continues to bring out the amazement in people. So many lights, so many views of them..)

I have listened to the BBC Challengers and they are four different individuals but three out of four of them clearly want to try to take the OWA Tag Team Championship from our shoulders. One of them just wants a battle and we all know we are more capable than just a battle.

Anyway, the moment we threw an open challenge match is the moment we know that the BBC are capable of being the fighting champions….not we are capable of taking the OWA by the storm. Defending these titles is the first step to do so. We are more than willing to take four heads off from their respective necks. That's what they are going to get from breathing under the BBC' necks. OWA or SSW or maybe even Wrestleworld, Pro Wrestling Nova, or Project Honor, doesn't matter.

But you know what, Jeff X has a point that this isn't SSW and who said I'm looking for a fuckery? I was just pointing out that our one on one encounter was getting a lot of attention from the world. But again, you're right that this isn't SSW and this is OWA and you have never faced me before here….and quite frankly, you're doomed to lose in this match. Why? One, you think you know how to get your job done and that is true but you clearly aren't ready to do your job in this match. You and Slapjack Sabertooth still have a little silly argument and you said it yourself that you don't care about the Tag Team Championship, so clearly this isn't your priority, isn't it, Jeff? And second, well, I kinda pointed it out already but you have a lot of things in your mind. You said you're in the middle of the war…..well I'm not. You're trying to survive from countless things. You're trying to look for a day to survive. You keep having to watch your back every second. I don't have that problem. Maggall and I are having a clear mind, clear sight, and clear targets to terminate and that is you, Sabertooth, Devi Krysis, and NAMI. I don't care about having new insults and being a bad guy whatsoever but since you pointed that out, I do think a couple of new friends are changing me for the better. I mean look, the Bad Boy Collective are the reason why I'm one half of the OWA Tag Team Champions again. I already said that we won the golds in our first appearance, didn't I Jeff? Actually that was pointless to point out because it was a fact. Same goes with the fact when you said it the only scenario I have is a long overdue retirement. I mean, we all will eventually retired but if I had one dollar for every single time people say I'm going to retire, I'd be rich and I'd own this company. Well, I'm already rich anyway and despite the fact that I'm a married man, bitches still want me. Being rich and handsome are both good things and bad things. Anyway, every single time people tried to retire me, they never failed to get the job done. I'm still right here aren't I? So tell me Jeff, what are you offering to do something different? Because you love wars? I won some of them. Because you're a former OWA World Champion? Faced half of them already in the stage of my career at this point and again, I'm still here. I might still be a little ol Nobi or whatever. I don't care. All I care about is winning this match and I'm focused on this task and you're not. You just want a battle and what Maggall and I are going to give you are some shock therapy. We have a lot of things on our sleeves.

Now, let me talk to you Slapjack Sabertooth. First off, I already said this to Jeff but bitches still love seeing me no matter what dress I'm wearing even though I'm wearing short pants, a buckle hat, and chain around my neck. What can I say? I'm a handsome guy. It's not about the dress, it's about the face. People have been successful at some damage to it, I have to admit it but either way, I'm still handsome. I don't need to hide my face behind face paint like you, Sabertooth. After all, you're also old, so why bother to look like a Marvel character? Even if you want to claim that you and Havoc are different, then apparently Havoc itself cares to have a good look. But you care about how you look as well, Slapjack. You just said that your face is one of the things that keep you going. Well, whatever. I was The Peacemaker in the Suicide Squad movie and I'm going to have my own series, so yes, I'm having a good Hollywood career. Thank you for your attention. Now apparently you just said that you are actually happy about me and the BBC that we won the Tag Team Champions but you claimed you have a problem with…..us winning the golds for the first time? And in Maggall's case, in his return match? Well, this is some kind of autistic attitude because you made a point and that you missed them out entirely. I'll tell you what. You have a problem with us winning the golds right away? Why didn't you find someone else and challenged The Dynasty instead at Hardcore Havoc? Well I suppose Jason Long was taking your time but there's nothing you can do to change history, Slapjack. It is a fact now that the BBC won the golds right away with this formation because Bad Boy Know, Maggall, and I have a great team work. Even if Bad Boy Know isn't in this match, Maggall and I are still enough. And let me point it out, Slapjack. You're right that I joined the BBC because Bad Boy Know beat me…..well not because he really beat me but because of a stupid referee decision. I hated it but Bad Boy Know showed me the bigger picture and he helped me to see there is still a lot of potential I have in me that hasn't been discovered yet. So why not? I don't really care if you and anybody else claimed I'm still nice or not. You said at first that I was still nice and then you said I'm not after I pointed out that you have an autistic face. Either way, you want to stand in my way….the BBC way and you better be prepared to be pushed away because the BBC is just starting and what would be a better way to have someone who is as accomplished as you as one of our first victims?

Now let me talk to you NAMI. Back then you were in the BBC and I understand why you don't want to be associated with Bad Boy Know anymore and that you are eagerly wanting to prove yourself and that's a good thing. I don't have that problem. I'm a former World Champion and I joined Bad Boy Know because of the rules of the match but again, why not accomplish more things as long as I'm still standing here? This isn't about proving myself anymore. I'm way past that and this is more about what I can do for the rest of my career until I stop. And apparently one thing that I still can do after winning and losing the SSW Puroresu World Heavyweight Championship is that….I still can win a lot of things. So why not? I'm satisfied as a former World Champion but why not extend it to be a two times World Champion if I can do it? Well if I can't do it until I retire though, it doesn't matter. But what matters is that I'm one half of the OWA Tag Team Champions now and what matters is that I retain this Championship against the team of you and Devi Krysis. As well as the team of Jeff X and Slapjack Sabertooth. I never said that you and Devi are some afterthought but I did say that both of you are going to lose to the BBC. And this is why you're still trying to try to prove yourself, NAMI. Because the Bad Boy Collective are the winners.

And as for you, Devi Krysis. I have to say that I respect everybody else in this match…..as competitors only. But you? You're such a nice girl, Devi and again, I appreciate your spirits, enthusiasm, and eagerness to win this match but I'm sorry, I can't let you do it. Not this time around anyway. You said it yourself that we didn't have to say anything about your birthday and that's why an OWA Tag Team Championship isn't going to be my present for your birthday. What Maggall and I are going to present to you both are giving you and NAMI a loss in this match. You are a hard worker, Devi. I know you're going to try to win this Championship so badly, but those still won't be enough because the BBC are the Rules of Dominance personified.

Well, speaking in general, the time for the talk is over now and we're going to show you exactly why I made the right choice to join the BBC and why the BBC are indeed the Rules of Dominance.

KINGDOM I: BETRAYAL

Welcome to my latest video message, directed towards my closest confidants and fans. Thank you for paying $19.99 per month to hear me at my most vulnerable. This has been a very hard time for me and I haven’t been in the best place after seeing Chris attempt to join the ranks of the enemy. This incident harmed me so much that I went into the ring knowing my mind was in another place. I lost so quickly and my performance did not represent one of a former world heavyweight champion. This event has left me disappointed in myself and motivated me to set up what will be one of the best matches any OWA fan will see in their lifetime. Before I continue on, I will say the following: I regret my actions and would like to apologize to every single fan that was excited to see me at 100% during Hardcore Havoc. They were unforgivable and I hope you all continue to subscribe and know that I can make mistakes. This will never happen again and if it does, just know that I am a human being. With all that done, I’d like to continue with a message of hope for those who feel like they’ve made mistakes and can’t seem to forgive themselves or have people in their circles who no longer want to associate with them. Do not lose your hope, my children; I’m here to continue guiding you no matter who disowns you. Extend your broken souls to reach my hand and know that I will care for you no matter what you’ve done and what you will do in the future. I hope everyone knows that I have forgiven my former comrades, no matter how many times they’ve stabbed me in the back; their punishments will eventually come to them but they are forgiven for any sins that they commit against my name. To the rest of the masses though, there is still a chance for you to redeem yourselves! If you decide to go to my website www.fizussaves.com, you will be able to access a comprehensive $400 package that will detail everything you need to do in order to change your lives. Look at the wonders I’ve done for people like Chris, Noah Quinn, Mark Michaels, and Eon Blue; they went from nothing to being someone. Chris was in a dark place and felt like he was nobody after what happened at Final Destination 3. Look at him now! He’s in a prominent spot after all the hard work and time I spent trying to get rid of the demon that dwelled in him. What thanks did I get for that? None, but his testimony can be viewed on my website if you give our church an offering that will clean any mistakes you’ve made. Eon Blue and Mark Michael’s testimonies are up on this website as well, with them how they were before my presence and after. It’s truly a haunting story of how it is to be prodigal sons; I hope they return to my forgiveness before it is too late for them. 

Noah Quinn is all that is left and it seems like he’s beginning to question my presence as well. With this match, I intend to prove to him that he still needs to learn from me; I see his potential rising higher and higher, but he wants to fly away from me too soon! We cannot have such a mistake happen knowing how the others have ended up. You see, Noah is my favorite disciple; it is not Eon Blue for those wondering, because he’s a cold-hearted and evil traitor. Noah has stuck by my side, no matter if we’ve failed or succeeded, but he’s been seeing something that I’ve begun to notice. I am being too comfortable in assuming that he’s going to stand by my side. I see the disdain in his tone and eyes; he wants to be on his own to prove his point. But Noah, look at what you were before your hands touched greatness: You were nobody despite your unparalleled talent. As you know, success is measured differently for me; it’s about the revolution over the win-loss ratio; I went from losing every major match I’ve had to have a very high win/loss ratio over the last year and a half because of my change. You know this Noah, and I have done the same for you in the last year. Sure, I made a lot of mistakes during Hardcore Havoc and I own up to them; it definitely was not the night I was expecting it to be. However, I have reflected and realized that I needed to make it up to you, young Noah; that’s why I surprised you with my unforgettable gift to you. I love making surprise announcements and that night was no different! It’s a shame really that you think you need to do this on your own, but I’m going to give you this opportunity to let out your frustrations with me but to see if you can prove to yourself that you can win this match. Am I going to back down from this challenge or take it easy on you? Absolutely not. I meant it when I said this title is coming to The Awakening no matter what. If it means that I need to pin you and embarrass you in front of the world, I will. You need to be humbled and disciplined because you still have so much to learn. I am not saying you’re incapable of winning the Spartan title...but look at how each of your matches with Jason Long has gone! I respect you Noah, but you’ve had opportunity after opportunity to bring the title to The Awakening, but you’ve fumbled the bag every time. I have tried to help you win and even then you didn’t get the title in our hands; I was genuinely embarrassed but I couldn’t tell you that to your face. To be honest, you may have fumbled again if I didn’t come through with my wonderful news about joining your match. The reality is that with your disdain for me growing, I can’t guarantee that you’ll remain in my good graces if you claim that title on your own. Your ego may inflate higher than the others; you know you’re good but you believe that is the only thing required to succeed in this company. I won the world title because I continued in the followings of the Church of Fiora. Without these teachings, I wouldn’t have ever touched or retained my title for as long as I did. I say this to you because you concern me young Noah; do you really want to follow the path of failure just like your brothers have? Sure, they’ve been in world title matches, but you don’t see them with anything on their waists this season. If they continued to follow me, one of them would easily have been world champion by now, but their own egotistical desires led them to the path they chose. For me, I’ve been away from the world championship by choice; I dedicated my time to you and Chris’ success and so far it hasn’t paid off because of these egotistical desires. 

Noah, this isn’t an insult but rather a critique of how you’ve faltered since our move to Kingdom. You remain the same as before when it comes to having banger after banger, but you are not a champion no matter how many attempts you’ve put in. You are missing the fundamental teaching I provided to you when we started; you must get on your knees and pray for success and then it will guide you to greener pastures. You did this at first, but since we moved, you’ve relied on your talents rather than the grace I provide to you every day. Since I am a concerned Father, I must do something, anything to make sure you do not leave my side and end up in the darkest period of your career again. I cannot let you fall under your carnal desires and that is why I put myself in this match to teach you a lesson; you will learn that you still need me to promote your success and that it is still some time before you are ready to move onto your singles career without me. I will tear away at Jason Long’s title reign and I will bring that title home for both of us, and whenever you’re ready, you’ll take this title away from me and prove that you are ready for greater things than anyone could’ve imagined. You see Noah, I believe in your potential and always have; other people in this locker room see your talent but they don’t see you holistically; you could be the biggest star OWA has ever produced with your words of wisdom as well as your in-ring capabilities. You can beat people cleanly, but you cannot follow this silly notion Chris revealed to everyone; it’s false testimony. He clearly has other intentions with his movement towards The Frontline; he faced Jason Long, intending for people to gain trust in him again. He was silly enough to make more and more sacrifices, knowing that he was trying to manipulate people into liking him again. Chris, in short, is a people pleaser and that is what led him to his first spiral into nothingness; he wanted people to be with him, and continues to do so. Chris simply didn’t want us and shoved us aside for Jeff and co. Is that really the person you’re intending to be Noah? Could you really love yourself for just being a people-pleaser and not being unique? Do you hate yourself so much that you’d sacrifice your own identity for some cheers and nods of respect? At the end of the day, being a part of The Awakening will always follow you; since you follow the truth, people will criticize you for being a loon or one of my lackeys. The people in this world know nothing about the salvation I provided for you, yet you want to please them over me? To be honest, I’m quite insulted by your belief that I ruined anything for you. You believe that I’m truly holding you back when I’ve been the one who gives you a platform. Without me, you wouldn’t even be employed by this company anymore! How dare you say such lies to hurt me and our cause?! I didn’t ruin anything by putting myself into this match; I’ve done what you couldn’t, and that is beating Jason Long in the middle of the ring. I have every right in claiming a title match just as much as you do. You are going into this match alone and with that, I will treat you like any other opponent I’ve faced in the past, but quite an advantage. You see, I’ve spent more time observing you in the ring than you have for me. Since I’m such a star, I’ve only graced bigger matches and stages while you’ve gone out there every week, exposing your strengths and weaknesses to me. You are a masterclass in the ring, but you are not willing to do anything and everything to come out the victor. That is your weakness. Suddenly becoming like Chris isn’t going to make your tactics any better; you are someone who is going against their nature, which is a mental battle on its own. Meanwhile, I will give into the nature I have and will show the world why I’m one of the greatest opportunists this company has ever seen. If you are about to win, I’d throw you out in a heartbeat, because I need to make sure you learn. Just because you want to play clean doesn’t mean the whole world is going to play the same game. Do you think your assistance was needed for me to pick up every single win before I formed the Awakening? I think not. You’ve needed me for every single major match or other people backing you up. The moment you let me go, you’re going to be a glorified LOSER. I will do what I must and that is provide divine punishment for such blasphemy that’s come out of your mouth. Whether you continue with me or not after this, that is ultimately up to you to decide. However, I will humiliate you and humble you in front of millions.

The keyboard warriors are typing away on how I am manipulating this situation and robbing the world of another classic one-on-one match. That isn’t the case; I’m solidifying Mr. Long’s senses. He needs to be able to survive a triple threat if he’s a real champion right? If you all think that my presence is that irrelevant, then why are people complaining? Jason, I know you’re not. You are on edge right now and that’s okay because I know that you’re gonna do whatever it takes to keep your title. We are in a triple threat match after all; you don’t even need to be pinned to lose the Spartan Championship. You’ve had wonderful defenses and matches as your time as champion and I will praise you for that Jason. You are a force to be reckoned with and I experienced that in the ring with you over a month ago. You embody the presence of a true champion, but just like Noah, your ideas are too pure for this world. In order to survive, you need to revert to your beastly instincts. When I was with The Awakening, I expected them to show me the trust and love I had poured into them, but they all turned their backs on me, leaving me for materialistic things. What did I do to forsake them? Nothing. I gave everyone what they needed; they all were champions at different periods of time and we controlled Olympus, something no other faction has been able to do before or since. Not The Ashes, nor The Frontline, nobody. I am an animal who has been assigned the simple task to rebuke those who don’t follow the saints who washed their blood for us! I will go to the lowest depths to win this title and keep it for my church. I’m not going to be too buddy-buddy with Noah because I know he is mere moments from turning his back on me and using me like a catapult for his own success, just as everyone else has. You’re going to lose to me Jason, whether you like that or not. The odds of you winning have dwindled with my involvement and knowing that Noah has nearly beaten you before; I’m what’s needed to break the camel’s back. I pushed you to your limit too, Jason, and I’ll do it again. Sure, I have a target on my back from both of you, but the issue is that you two want to fight clean, but I don’t. It’s a triple threat match, so weapons will come into the mix and I don’t care what any keyboard warrior says, it’s a fair move. The time for being noble or trying to be some sort of hero was never here and will never be here. I’m not around to sell toys to children with my face plastered on them; I’m here to reveal a message about the realities of life and who we are as people. Tons of platforms have stopped my messages calling them heinous and untrue, but all I do is speak the holy truths. We are all animals and we should stick to what we know; Noah attempts to shine this new coat of goodness, but he’s just trying to get revenge for his honor. Jason, you accept his challenge because you want a real challenge again and believe that you can beat him. These are not “noble” traits; these are ones that we’ve had since birth, and it’s okay to be hungry for something. My teachings allow others to use these traits for the best instead of covering themselves in a facade that will eventually crackle and fall apart. I know this because that’s the kind of man I was Jason. I wanted to be like you; a defending champion and warrior who pleased the people, but I knew I was lying to myself. I knew that I needed to be baptized and washed in the blood in order to use my natural instincts for a good cause. I am dedicated to my cause until the moment I breathe my last breath. Jason, you are not in the same league, because you are just a regular worldly person. Your alliances will change over time and so you don’t have the same dedication to your beliefs as I do. I would DIE for my beliefs, but I doubt you would do the same. 

I do it for the ones who watch over me in the skies above! My parents, my fallen friends, and the Divine One. They all bless me and surround me with holy protection so that I may revolutionize this world in a way that nobody would expect from a man like me. My journey has not stagnated nor stopped; this Sunday, what I have prophesied will come to fruition. The breath from my words will reach the ears of the heavens above and they will know that I need them. What happened at Hardcore Havoc was a stain on my perfect record. My white robes were stained with the impurity of sin. I’ve prayed and prayed, asking for forgiveness, and I know how to redeem myself. My sins will be washed away when I win title gold once again. My failure will be bleached by an absolute victory. No sinner will be able to complain. BLESS ME, OH THE HEAVENS ABOVE.

As the feed soon brought us within The King’s Penthouse -- we’re greeted with the sight of the Spartan Championship resting and standing upright along the dining room table and, of course, standing in the background of the shot was Jason Long. As he stood there - his back facing towards the camera that recorded - he continued to stare into the mirror and towards his own reflection. The room was filled with silence, not a word spoken from the champion as he took a deep inhale, before lowering his head and exhaling through his nose.

“All of this? It's never been your battle to fight in."

Those words break the silence, but the pause after brings the silence right back. Jason soon turned around for a full one hundred and eighty degrees, now facing the camera that records his movements for only a second, and leaning back against a wooden counter with his hands gripped to the sharp edges. All he could look down upon was the championship that he possessed. The championship with his name etched onto it as the current holder. The memories that he’s had with the championship for the past one hundred and eighty-three days are unforgettable in his mind, and the fact that all of those days could come to an end very soon seems to be clicking a nerve within Jason. Especially considering those who he has to face within his next defense. His teeth gritted against one another. But– he took another deep inhale, beginning to calm himself down.

“When I first held onto this championship, I made a promise to everyone. To the previous champion, Aria Jaxon. To the championship itself. I made a promise to defend this against anyone and everyone that comes my way. To hold this championship with pride, honor, and respect. To make sure that this division is risen to a higher level than ever before. And those promises are something that I've kept for the past one hundred and eighty-three days of my tenure as it's rightful champion. I have fought against everyone and anyone that came into my crosshairs, I have fought and battled against the very best of who has been thrown in front of me, I have fought and conquered almost everyone that dared step up to try and take me down from my throne. Some have bested me in their fight and have since earned my respect, some have bested me in their fight by means of doing whatever it takes -- even if it means to cheat your way into a victory -- and that’s fine, that’s absolutely fine. But there’s one thing that’s remained since the beginning of the season and that’s Jason Long as your Spartan Champion. Nobody’s been able to dethrone me from the mantle, nobody’s come close to ending the reign, and at the end of the day, there can be no one left to take me down from where I stand.

But sometimes I look across the land of the Kingdom, I look around and I see this ‘fierce’ group of individuals that have tried their best to come towards my crown on multiple occasions. From the beginning of the Dark Kingdom Tournament, to the seventy-fifth episode of Kingdom where this exact championship main evented, to using underhanded tactics to take me down and then finding myself with my first pay-per-view defeat since the beginning of the season. That - of course - happens to be The Awakening. It seems like since the beginning of the season, you have been gunning for me, and maybe that might not have been the case and our paths have crossed many times inadvertently but here we are once again. For what is the fifth meeting with any member of The Awakening, we are back at square one. We are back at where we started. And it pains me to know that we are back at where we started because here's the thing, right? No matter how hard I've tried, no matter how hard I've had to put any of you sorry fucks down, no matter what — the memo seems to get lost in translation. And I know, I'm aware, I've taken losses here and there but don't think that you won fairly and that's giving you the advantage in this situation. I’ve seen you trying to play the sneaky one here and there, looking to lure your way into this match because you’ve ‘beaten’ me before and that’s given you your shortcut into this championship match.”

There’s a moment of silence as Jason began to roll his head around, allowing his neck to crack multiple times along the way around, as he brought his focus back towards the camera with a stern look resting on his face.

“I shouldn’t be so surprised that the man who went for every single tactic in the book to make sure that he could win was going to call up and make sure he was going to be put into a championship match with me and my title. I really shouldn’t be so surprised by the man that had almost everyone getting involved to knock me down but was so confident that he could beat me inside of the ring — I guess you did get what you promised but I’ve never seen such a bitch move like what you pulled back then, Nathan. To do me as wrong as you did that night, I have never felt so embarrassed as I was when that bell rang after the three count. I have never been so embarrassed about a loss after being attacked, blindsided, cheated, bullshitted, and so much more. I won’t lie to you when I say this, Nathan. You taking the win over me stopped all momentum I had going for me. Going win for win for win from Game Over until then was a pretty damn good feat for me but being stopped by someone like you, it kind of ruined me since then. I went from there to losing my match with Christopher Sabertooth. I had to give the man some respect at the end of the day because — unlike you, Nathan — he was able to beat me inside of the ring. He was able to do what others couldn’t and that was putting a definite stop to The Best Bout Machine. Putting a definite stop to The Spartan King. Shit, he did what you couldn’t even do and that was beat me fucking clean as a whistle.

Need I be surprised that someone like Nathan Fiora — who thought he was the rightful champion, snaked and then cheated his way into becoming Omega Heavyweight Champion — was going to the same exact thing of claiming he’s a rightful challenger to my championship, snake his way into a championship match, and then what? Do the same exact thing as before? Rob me of my championship? Take away everything that I fought fucking hard for within this division and wipe the slate clean? I might have asked you this before but I ask you this once again, okay? What in the fuck have you accomplished since you’ve dragged your pasty as onto this brand, Nathan? Going from being Omega Heavyweight Champion to being… The exorcist of Havoc? The man that cheated his way through Jason Long? The supposed future that the Spartan Division is meant to hope for? You’ve not proven yourself for shit. Hell, when it came down to the Circus Deathmatch at Hardcore Havoc — where were you at the end result? Where were you when Noah Quinn needed you the most? You were one of the first to have been dropped. You were one of the first to have been gone from that match. And you still thought to yourself that you could come and fight against myself and Noah for this championship right here? Maybe the fall might have been a whole lot more than I expected upon seeing it on a screen but you must have taken some heavy brain damage if you thought to yourself that you’d actually survive this match, Nathan. Like seriously, are you mentally fucking challenged enough that you’ve made such a horrible decision with your life?

And you inserted yourself into the match with Noah Quinn, the man that you brought from the ground up and created into the machine that he is right now, and have to face him. Tell me, Nathan, what was the plan behind that genius idea of yours? To have the numbers against me? To take me down two to one? To make sure that I don’t walk out as the Spartan Champion? Cute to think you’d put so much effort into making sure you’d make this entire division turn to shit rather than make me miserable. Hell, if you thought to yourself that me not walking out as the Spartan Champion was going to ruin me or jeopardize me in any form or capacity then clearly, you’ve got it all wrong. If it happens to be you that sneaks this championship away from me by any means necessary like last time then I’d wish you the best of luck, Nathan. Because I know that someone like you would never fill the same fucking shoes as I did. I know someone like you would never carry a fucking brand like I have. I know that someone like you would never be able to carry the weight of an entire history of god-like Spartans on their shoulders. But hey, it’s like how the old saying went — God loved a chancer, he loved a man that tried. But for someone like you? God was ashamed of someone like you and you — my friend — are no god. You’re a false prophet, a religious pariah, and a fucking loser.

If you had any common sense, you’d back away from this match and not look back. But I know you won’t because why would someone like you listen? And that’s what’ll make the fucking beating you’re going to take feel so much better, Nathan. My advice to you would be to stand down and take your fucking place at the back of the line — but that’s not good enough for me, that’s not good enough after the bullshit you pulled the last time and I will not let you walk away so freely again, and I’ll prove to you what it really takes to be a god damned fucking Spartan.”

The King took a deep breath to calm himself down, closing his eyes for just a moment as he leaned forward towards the table in front of him. The entire room was filled with silence, not a single sound was made throughout the entire home— but then the sound of Jason’s fist slamming down onto the table right beside the Spartan Championship broke that silence. He opened his eyes and tilted his head upward, staring back into the camera once again.

“Noah Quinn. I’ll do my best to not sound like a complete and utter asshole towards you like I was with Nathan Fiora but there’s just something I need to get off of my chest about you, mate. Seeing you put yourself forward and cashing in ahead of time for a shot at this championship makes me feel somewhat sorry for you but at the same time, I kind of don’t. To say the least, I’m not mad at you for your choices but I am disappointed in you that you’ve done this. After everything that we’ve been through together, Noah, you’ve decided to try your luck again against the man that put you on the map more than ‘your father’. You’ve decided to try your luck again against the man that you couldn’t beat the first time and then you couldn’t even beat for the second time even if you had people in your corner to support you. But I understand where you’re coming from, I heard it in your voice when you met with me that night, and I know how much this championship means to you. I know that it means something to you more than anything else in the company — or even the world — does. This championship has been something that you’ve had your eyes on for quite some time and now look at you, it’s like you're begging for me to just hand you the championship. I could see it in your eyes when it was just face to face. You want this so badly but you continue to come up short. I’ve been there before, Noah. I know how you feel.

Though I find you to have become quite an odd fellow since our last encounter inside of the ring, Noah. I’m sure everyone is aware of the contract that you won — and without a word of a lie — you earned that contract against everyone else in that match. But here’s where something’s not clicking. Here’s where something doesn’t seem right. You waited and you waited, you kept yourself patient, but don’t think that when I was down? I wasn’t aware of what you were trying to do. I’ve seen you stand there over me, beaten down and unable to move, and you coming so close to cashing in— but you never did. Sure, the same excuse can be made that someone came to help me out or whatever shit you throw against the wall but I know that look. I’ve seen that look before. And I have you fucking scared, don’t I? You could have cashed in on me so many times but you — in your full honesty — could not because you know that I can bounce back. You know I can still strike you down even when I’m not at one hundred percent. You know that Jason Long — even on his worst day — is seriously fucking dangerous and you cannot hold a fucking candle light to me, isn’t that right, Noah? Isn’t that what you tell Father Fiora every week when he has you bent over his knee?

But just admit it, Noah. Say it with pride and say it with honor. I am living in your head rent free. Tell the world that you fear Jason Long. Tell the world that you fear The Spartan King. It’s tough for you, Noah, because I know that you want this so badly but deep within your head? You are reminded of those two encounters. You are reminded of those two matches of ours. I could see it in your eyes, I could hear it in the way you speak — you’re already beginning to doubt yourself before you even get to enter the arena. Noah, you come onto a camera and tell everyone how confident you are in winning this championship and you can tell everyone how much this championship means to you for you to need it, but I’m not buying for the bullshit. There is no running from this one, there is no regretting your actions, there is no running from what is here to stay and here to defend his championship from people like you and The Awakening. And I know you’ve got your eye focused on Nathan Fiora too — but we both know that he’s not worth the time and the attention that others give him — just keep your focus on me, the man that you can’t pass. The man that you cannot tackle. The man you cannot beat.

The two on one situation was always going to be tough on me, and I know the dangers that come with this championship match heading into The Festival, but I have never ever backed down from a challenge. I have never backed down from a fight and I have never said no to a challenger for this championship. All comers have come and gone and look where it’s taken them. Azumi hasn’t been the same, Kevin Maverick hasn’t been the same, Reginald Dampshaw hasn’t been the same, Noah Quinn hasn’t been the same. That’s the domino effect of those that come for me and this championship.”

The Spartan King grabbed onto his championship, holding it in his right hand and holding it up high for it to be in the same shot as he is, with a quick glance onto the championship itself — he brings his focus back towards the camera and with the additional half-smile on his face? He began to quietly laugh to himself.

“There is no need for examples to be set when it comes to The Festival, boys. There is no need to prove one’s self when it comes to this championship match. Because one thing is going to remain the same as it always has since the beginning of this season. And that is with Jason Long holding the Spartan Championship for just that little bit longer. Trust me, people might think I’ve done it all but I’m nowhere near finished. I am nowhere near the end goal just yet and I promise you that when the time is right? I know I have done what was needed for this division. Not everything lasts forever but — at the same time, I tell you this — this will never be in any member of The Awakening’s hands.

That is a promise. That is a guarantee. And I will make sure to see to that never happening.

Long Live The Spartan King.

All fucking hail.”

With a final wink to the camera — the feed faded to black.

Click.

“To say the least, Hardcore Havoc was the weekend where I needed to win but I walked out empty-handed.”

The day had turned to night as we found ourselves with Rebecca Brookes standing at the top of her apartment building, looking out to the night sky and seeing the moon rise as she took a deep breath. It’s been a couple of days, if not weeks, since Hardcore Havoc came to an end. The scars have healed since then and her entire waist has been bandaged up. As she stepped closer to the edge, her head soon dropped and she closed her eyes. Feeling like she’s contemplating herself. But she raises her head up again, looking back out to the night sky once more, and then turning around to face the camera recording.

“It was hard enough to walk in with pride in my mind, confidence being the only key I had to keep myself fighting, and a hunger for proving others wrong when they said I’d never be able to do it. My mind wasn’t where it needed to be when it came down to the very end and look where that got me, nothing but the scars of war and the blood loss that has left me weak for the past couple of weeks, along with a heavy amount of stitching all over my body. I walked in with everything on my shoulders, feeling like the whole entire brand was on my back, and it got me nowhere and I walked out of the Promethean Chamber with nothing to hold and nothing to gain. ‘The Last Hero of Odyssey’, they called me. Yet, for some reason, I didn’t feel like the hero that people deserved. I didn’t feel like the hero that the brand asked for. I didn’t feel like the hero that the brand needed from people like Jonetta or Stephanie.”

She soon shook her head from side to side.

”Corrupted tyrants looking to overthrow monarchies to make sure that everything goes according to what they want. And nobody grows the pair of balls to really fight back and tackle them down before they go too far. It made me ask myself if I could continue trying to carry the company on my back like that again, or should I just drop everything and— just see where the road takes me. Should I give up and look for other opportunities or should I continue down the path and hope that I can become what I have desired to be from day one?”

Rebecca soon sighed as she shook her head. The confidence that she once had entering into the Promethean Chamber was soon wiped away knowing that she walked out with nothing for her to hold over her head. Pride from others as they sent in their support for her might have been the only thing she had but even then — it didn’t feel like enough to allow her to carry on down this path. She soon took a few steps forward, holding onto her abdomen area, before stopping and once again bringing focus back onto the camera.

“Stephanie Matsuda gave me the fight of her life and she brought it to a higher level than I could. I might not respect anything that she says or she does but I’ll never say that someone didn’t win the championship — and she ran the gauntlet. But I know that my dreams are far from over just yet and hell, maybe me and Stephanie might have a chat on Odyssey, but as far as I am concerned. I am focused on one thing and one thing only. Bringing a damn fight. Because you see, surviving within the chamber and lasting to the very end might have awoken a fire in me I never thought I had. Going the full length and being fingertips away from holding onto the championship was what I needed to relight the drive, the hunger, the intensity that I’ve just been missing for so long. And they all said that once you walk into the Promethean Chamber, you’d never come out of it the same again. Wasn’t that it? Y’all made a huge mistake letting me walk in and run through the gauntlet. Y’all made a huge mistake thinking I’d walk back out of it as an even more broken down Rebecca Brookes. The wounds will heal, as they always do, but when they do heal? It’s going to be a different ball game altogether. And that’s how we move onto what comes next, to Odyssey, and to a debuting Remi Skyfire.”

She paused for a moment, allowing a confident smile to grow on her face.

“For someone like you, Remi? I have to say — based on first impressions alone from what I’ve been able to find about you — you’ve impressed me quite a bit, and I’m not saying that like I’m talking down to you, but for someone brand new coming onto this brand? You’re very impressive to say the least. Winning two of the three Kingdom Pro championships in that company before it folded is no easy feat considering the kind of roster that they had throughout the past couple of years. I like the kind of person you put yourself out there to be, you know? Take no bullshit, loving to put up a fight, and just making sure that you stand tall over the rest of the field. I’d call it impressive but there’s nothing impressive with what everyone else tends to say week in and week out, it’s not impressive when everyone always comes up and says that they’re going to take no shit and beat people up for their own amusement, so allow me to ask you this with no disrespect behind it — what makes you unique compared to anyone else on this roster? If we’re going to be going through generic fighter number seventy-six for the fifteenth time then surely there must be something that makes you different. There must be something that makes you stand out in front of a crowd of nobodies. But there isn’t. Your name is Remi Skyfire and that’s all that there is that’s interesting about you. A shame really because you probably don’t deserve to be disrespected like this at all — but the deal is simple as this, when you’re facing someone like me? I’m not going to be afraid to tell you how I feel about you.”

Again, she shows that confident smile. Chuckling away to herself.

“Should I be impressed by the fact that you’re a kickboxer? Should I be impressed with the fact that you’ve been doing this for god knows how long? To be perfectly honest with you, I’m not at all impressed in the slightest. We’ve had mixed martial artists, we’ve had brawlers, we’ve had gang members, and we’ve had a plethora of other kinds of people. You’re not unique. For someone like you to be heading onto this brand with nothing really ‘good’ to your name and just yourself, it’s going to be a rough start for you. I mean, that’s how I started. I had nothing to my name and it was a tough couple of months ahead of me. But look where it turned out for me, Remi. Hell, maybe you can follow in my footsteps later on but that’s a long way to go for someone that’s yet to even prove themselves here. But this match is something I am looking forward to, Remi. I’m looking forward to someone like you to fight against because I know you can give me a challenge. I know that Remi Skyfire can bring the heat inside of that ring and considering your background? I have high hopes for someone like you — though there was always going to be the one outcome, Remi. That being — and always has been — with Rebeeca Brookes standing tall with a win over her head. I have a lot to prove to myself heading out of Hardcore Havoc and I have a lot on my mind that needs to be cleared up. I look to clear my mind by taking it out on someone. Sadly, it seems management chose the new kid on the block. And all I have to do is follow their orders.”

Rebecca turned her back to the camera and began to walk back towards the edge of the rooftop once again, glancing out to the night sky once more before beginning to speak again.

“I’m not like most of those you’ve faced in Kingdom Pro, Remi. You want to threaten to kick my fucking head in? Then, be my guest. I welcome a chancer to take their hits but don’t be surprised when I come back hitting harder than you — because that can happen very easily and that can happen so naturally that you wouldn’t even be prepared for it. I am no stepping stone for someone like you to come onto this brand and think you can make damn sure about things happening. That’s not how we do things around here. That’s not how I do things around here. I head into this match at less than one hundred percent and I head into this match with wounds still healing, so you have the upper-hand against me and you have the advantage, but can you really keep it up and outlast me? The answer is… well, no. And you’re going to feel so embarrassed when I drive my damned knee into your skull over and over and over again. And that’s not for sending a message, Remi. That’s to prove a fucking point. You want to live on this brand? You want to thrive on this brand? It’s time to wait in line and wait for me. Oh, and just in case you might not know who I am or have very easily forgotten already, my name is Rebecca Brookes...”

A final deep breath as she lowered her head and the feed slowly faded to black.

“...and welcome to Odyssey.”

Click.

The camera opens up backstage at the conclusion of a recent Odyssey Live Event. The camera zooms in on a boy in a wheelchair, who is smiling after just having his own private photo shoot with Dulce Torres just moments before, his face still beaming from the farewell hug he received from his "heroine." The boy, his mother, and a couple of representatives of the Make-A-Wish Foundation all try to head out the backstage area, when the lights in the hallway all flicker off. When they flicker back on, the boy in the wheelchair is still sitting there, frightened and confused, while the adults have all vanished. Around the corner emerges… The Banshee, who is wearing a rainbow-colored wig, a large round, fake red nose, and even Ronald McDonald’s iconic outfit, complete with large red clown shoes. She’s holding a bundle of balloons in one hand, a bicycle horn in the other. She sees the boy and starts skipping towards him, laughing to herself in a sinister tone.
 
The Banshee: Hello there, little one! Rumors abound that you’re our special wish kid, the one that’s dying of a painful and incurable disease…
 
(The little kid begins crying while whimpering in fear, but The Banshee’s smile just grows a bit wider.)
 
The Banshee: Relax, little one! What’s your name, kid?
 
(Frightened, the little boy can’t managed to gurgle out even a single sound. However, he points to a nametag sticker on his chest, which says “Billy.”)
 
The Banshee: Billy, huh? I heard that Dulce Torres is your favorite superstar, and hey! It looks like you got to meet her before you kick the bucket! Ah, how sweet and sappy a story you provide for Dulce… and her allies in the OWA Front Office… but it’s time to change the narrative… Don’t you wish you had that power, Billy? To rewrite your own… fate?
 
(Billy, still bawling, manages to weakly nod his head. The Banshee then pulls out a balloon and hands it over to him. The boy, frozen in fear, doesn’t attempt to grab it, which appears to annoy The Banshee, as she roughly grabs Billy’s hand, making him grab the balloon.)
 
The Banshee: Hey, you should appreciate the fucking gesture, before I rip your fucking arm out the socket! I don’t hand out gifts to just anyone, you know… Are you scared, Billy?
 
(The little boy nods his head again.)
 
The Banshee: That’s good… You’re not stupid, at least… Clearly you can see RIGHT THROUGH the make-up, the ridiculous outfit, the silly wig… Why is it that children can often see what the adults are afraid to even acknowledge its existence? You see me… The Mistress of Madness… but your hero, Dulce… All she apparently sees when she looks at me… is nothing but a stupid… silly… clown! Well… I can’t juggle to save my life… or yours, for that matter… Well kid, I have to leave, but some free advice for you to use the rest of… the month, I guess, that you might still be alive… NEVER MEET YOUR HEROES… They will always disappoint you…
 
(The Banshee pats the boy on the head, then turns to leave. The boy continues to cry hysterically, as the lights flicker off and on again, the missing adults now returned, looking very confused and scared. The Banshee is no longer wearing the clown costume or articles, instead she’s now in her normal in-ring attire. She then picks up the boy from the wheelchair, all 87 pounds of him, tossing him up lightly in the air… RIGHT INTO THE CRY OF THE BANSHEE! The wheelchair-bound boy lays motionless on the ground, facefirst, as OWA trainers and staff all rush to provide immediate aid. Several security officers all yell at The Banshee to leave, but she doesn’t pay them any attention, instead looking straight down at the injured ill child.)
 
The Banshee: Did you just make another wish… for Dulce to save you? I warned you that your heroes aren’t who you think… Dulce only cares for herself, whydo  you think she would ever give you the time of day... if her GM didn’t order her to meet you fucking terminally-ill brats? Keep dreaming, Billy… Dulce is a fraud, and one day… I’ll get my chance to prove it…
 
(The lights flicker off completely, ushering the screen to blackness. The screen transitions to a small room, which is full of Dulce Torres-licensed merchandise, including action figures, clothing, and even plushies of Dulce all line the walls and floor in an otherwise dark-and-assuming room. The Banshee sits amongst the Dulce clutter, tilting her head left and right as she looks at a sealed Dulce action figure.)
 
When I look at this six-inch figurine of Dulce… which still has less plastic than the real bimbo… it paints a very symbolic picture of how Dulce views herself: “an action hero worshipped by legions of fans,” though the actual truth is that she’s nothing more than the very thing she accuses me of being… Dulce is nothing more than a circus clown, her sole purpose to draw children over to Odyssey, like a pedophile with a van full of puppies…
 
Perhaps you’re too stupid to realize it, Dulce… But despite how I may look and act, there’s no one more suited to being a clown on Odyssey than you, except you’re a clown that thinks of herself as a ringmaster… There’s only one “master of the ring” here, bitch, and that’s me… But you’ll discover that firsthand in a couple days…  


Do you think shit as petty as win-loss records mean anything to The Banshee? Unlike you, “Sweet Towers,” I don’t go run and cry any time I come up short…  Do you think The Banshee does the same shit as you… should I quote from your playbook? Here’s the Dulce motto: “I'm going to be better! I'm going to be stronger! I’m quietly the best, yet I make sure I let everyone within fucking earshot know about it!” No, Dulce.... you don't see me doing any of that cowardly shit! And do you want to know why, you inquisitive bitch? Because you don't fucking know my true intentions! NO ONE DOES!!! That's what makes me really dangerous... Because, EVEN in past championship matches... I NEVER SAID winning the championship was my ultimate goal on that particular night... 

By your own admittance, you have a shit memory, so let me refresh it for you... You did NOT “outsmart” me at Clash of the Titans... You got extremely fucking lucky that Azumi Goto was placed front and center to fucking distract me, though I’m sure you had a hand in it too... So don't go patting yourself on the back too fucking hard there, Dulce… because you're going to end up toppling over, and killing yourself... But then again, please don't kill yourself... because I ALONE want that distinction!

And keep in mind that same Stephanie Matsuda that you're bad-talking... the very same "Cloud" that was in that same match with you at Clash of the Titans... Yeah.... Guess who was the one that took her out? So, again, you may want to think twice about your little barbs... because all you're doing is making yourself look stupid by claiming that I’m some "weak woman"... So, by proxy, does that mean the entire Odyssey roster are nothing but "weak women," unless they’re a part of your little “Mean Girls” kids club! Oh, and it definitely shows that you (sarcastically) “really did your research” Dulce, you fucking idiot... just take one look at the record books… and you will see that the CURRENT OWA Women’s World Champion, Stephanie “Cloud” Matsuda... is 1-2 AGAINST ME!  So whenever the title DOES become my ultimate goal… it’ll be like taking candy from a baby… or a Goddesses Title from Dulce… It's being held by someone I've already destroyed, not once, but twice!!! That gives me more than enough confidence to take the motherfucker whenever I want the goddamn thing! I could’ve even had the Goddesses Title anytime I wished... but because it was devalued so poorly the last several months... ESPECIALLY BY YOU... why would I ever want to touch it? I don’t want my own brand to become “devalued” just by associating with you!

Why does it matter who thinks you're an insufferable teacher's pet? Does it really fucking matter? Who the hell cares!? I'm so used to the nepotism around here already, that it's really become the expectation for Aria’s favorites.. Why else do you think The Banshee has to take more… methodical approaches to problem-solving? Because I am not like you, and no amount of makeovers, surgeries, and social media campaigns will ever change that perception! But because I don’t fit the “Dulce mold” quite like Alyssa Grace did, I was not given…  and never will get... the same opportunities that are just handed out like Halloween candy to bitches like you! So no, don't think that you're JUST like everyone else in the fucking locker room... By the way, how many OTHERS get their own PRIVATE locker room? The majority of us have to share, but yet the “Originator” gets her own special room... because Dulce Torres is nothing more than the Kim Kardashian of Odyssey!

So you've confronted a lot of “banshees” before, have you? Can you tell me who they are… So I can either rip out their innards…  or just fucking sue them for gimmick infringement? But you can’t, can you? Just more verbal “smoke and mirrors” meant to obscure the real truth from your fictional version of it... Because you know… I know… everyone knows… there is NO ONE like me! Not in the OWA… not in this industry… not even on the ENTIRE FUCKING PLANET! Quite simply put… there is no one like The Banshee! 

You claim you don't look at me like I'm a monster… HAHAHAHA!!! That's your own mistake, bitch… because I'm the fucking Queen of the Monsters!!! There's plenty of other fucking women and men here that will tell you firsthand… regardless of how highly you think of yourself... “Don't overlook The Banshee.” I'm certainly not overlooking you... but yet you're supposedly “overlooking me” because you know you're going to get your ass handed to you so badly by me on Saturday night, so you’re just lining up the generic “I overlooked my opponent” excuse for when you lose to some “weak woman" like me. But don’t worry about that… because I’m putting you in a fucking coffin after the match is over, so NO ONE will ever hear what insane dribble comes out of that truck-stop glory hole you call a mouth AGAIN! 

You seem to keep confusing The Banshee with Jonetta Stone… Though our fates have been intertwined here since DAY ONE, it’s important to remember one thing, Dulce… I am NOT Jonetta Stone... In fact, Jonetta Stone is no longer champion THANKS to me... It wasn’t coincidental that I targeted her… It was ALL by design! I know EVERYONE’S strengths… weaknesses…. FEARS… That’s how I know you’re about as real as a Barbie doll, Dulce… You’re not a real champion, though… You never have been… hell, if you walked inside a Vegas pawn shop with the belt around your waist, the shopkeeper wouldn’t give you a dime for it! Hell, Satan wouldn’t even take the belt from you if you offered it up WITH your soul, because he’d think BOTH were fake… because you’re not a champion… you’re just a rotten bitch whose time has come to leave Odyssey forever...

You truly show your colors by mocking mental illnesses… Mock me all you want, but Morrighan isn’t even alive to defend herself, so you’re essentially mocking a dead girl’s mental illness… This is your champion, Aria? She’s the better option? Maybe you are a monster after all… and to close, do you want to know why I can use my twisted sense-of-humor so much? It's because no matter how silly my antics may get… no matter how goofy I act at times... The Banshee IS… AND ALWAYS WILL BE... the most serious threat in the ring!! As for you, Dulce… you always be a fucking joke, regardless of who faces you in the ring… I will do to you what I’ve done to past pillars… I will erase you from the crowd’s memory, once I devour your soul!"

The camera opens to a single high backed leather chair sat in an otherwise empty room. On the wall behind several championships and other trophies are hung, indicating that we are seeing someone’s trophy room, the owner of which walks into frame a second later to reveal herself to be Remi Skyfire. She’s dressed casually, wearing a pair of brown square toed boots, faded bluejeans with a brown leather belt held closed by a brass or copper skull belt buckle, and a grey tank top with a black heart emblazoned in the center, she drops herself into the chair and looks into the camera wordlessly before reaching around behind the chair and dragging out a wood end table with a glass ashtray holding an unlit cigar. Beside the ashtray is a small silver lighter. Remi takes both and, after putting the cigar to her lips, lights the cigar. She takes a long drag, then exhales smoke, tendrils trailing from her nostrils. With a smirk she puts the lighter back on the table.

Don’t worry, it’s butane...I’m not a heathen.

She takes another drag, and the room behind to fill with smoke as she settles back into the chair and crosses her legs. Finally she takes the cigar from her mouth and taps it into the ashtray.

Please excuse my indulgences, I’ve not had a chance to just sit and smoke for a while...things have been moving fast, y’see. I mean, Hell, not two weeks ago I found out the place I’ve put my literal blood and tears into for the past two years is closing, and now here I am, half a world away, facing a former champion in my OWA debut. Hey, that’s okay though, big timers make big time moves. Make no mistake, Ms. California Angel, I am a big timer too. Now I know, I know, people come along all the time making big claims, just yap, yap, yapping about how they’re hot shit, how they are going to dominate and destroy everyone and blah, blah, I get it. That’s not what I’m gonna do, sis, see, I don't talk big, I am big. I back up everything I say, just ast Daisy or Cloud or anyone else who has faced me. They know.

Remi lets her words hang in the air while she takes another drag from the cigar and now the beams of light coming through the window are muddled with clouds of smoke, but it doesn’t seem to bother Remi.

Now, I’m not going to say I’m going to come out the gate guns blazing and win a title in my first couple months or anything, Hell, it’s been a while since I’ve competed, I gotta knock some of that rust off! Don’t think that means I’m going to be an easy win though, Rebecca, cos I’m not. We’ve both got something to prove here, you want your title back and I want to show everyone in OWA that I coulda walked in here years ago and been a force, and now that I’m here I have every intention of making up for that lost time.

Remi taps the ash of the end of her cigar again and uncrosses her legs. She runs her hand over her hair and grins.

Look, I’m going to level with you, I’m excited as hell to be here, to have a chance to prove what I can do against a person who has held a title and to show a new audience what the Blackheart is all about, and I know that showing is better than telling, but I guess some people want to know just who the fuck I is. M’name’s Remi Skyfire, I’ve held titles everywhere I’ve gone, I’m a Corsair, I’ve left blood in five continents, and I’m more than willing to rise to the occasion when there’s a fight to be had. When I get in the ring it’s not always pretty, things don’t always go my way, but I always...ALWAYS stand up at the end. I always keep moving forward, and ain’t no one stopped that yet.

My goals here is simple, of course I want to win gold, but more importantly than that I want to leave my mark on this sport, this company, and if I’m honest, Rebecca Brookes’ face. Not that she’s done anything to me, this isn’t personal after all, nah, I just know that when opportunity knocks you’re damn stupid not to answer, and no matter how tall and twisty a tree Rebecca is to climb, I’m going to do it because it’s what I do.

Remi adjusts herself in the chair so she’s sitting more comfortably and finally slides it slightly to the right so her left side is more in frame.

That’s better, I do apologize, but I prefer to look someone in the eye when I’m talking to them, and I’ve only got one good one. Now, Ms. Brookes, I’ve been reading up on your background, and on paper it’s pretty impressive, says you know a whole shit load of kicks, and knee and elbow strikes. Now I don’t know your training, I won’t pretend to, but I do know a lot of people in this sport take a YMCA class meant for bored soccer moms and come out the other end thinking they some badass kickboxer. I’ve spent sixteen years training in Muay Thai, I’m a former United States Kickboxing champion, and almost always when I face off against someone like that it ends bad for them. Now, again, I’m not sayin’ that’s you, I don’t know, but what I am saying is that if you really want to stand and throw with me in the middle of the ring, you can, but you better hope your ass is ready for what happens.

Far be it from me to criticize someone with four suplexes with the same name they like to use as big time moves, but I just wanted to let you know what you’re in for here is all. I’m nobody in OWA, just some Sally off the Street, but that’s what makes me dangerous to you, what makes me a threat to your journey back to relevance. I know you’re real proud of what you’ve done, and you should be, good on you! Fact of the matter is, though, if you live too long in the past you soon forget that you’ve got the present to worry about. That’s me, I’m your present, Rebecca. I’m Remi Skyfire, and in a few minutes I’m going to go out, get in my Yenko, and drive to my first ever OWA match against someone I really, honestly hope is ready for what I bring to the table, because if not, I’ll knock your fucking lights out.

Remi clamps the cigar between her teeth and stands, brushing any stray ash to the floor from her jeans. She walks over to the camera, her form filling the shot as she does, and a second later the scene goes dark.

MYŌJIN stared at their own reflection, seeing their own thoughtful stare in the almost chrome-like silver of the main plate they held up to their face- along with the clean red with the golden star sitting in the middle of the plate. Outlining the design where the two words wrapped around the design: OUTLAW CHAMPIONSHIP. The blonde held the dark crimson strap in both of their hands, their dark brown eyes simply observing it- as if it was some mysterious, awe-inspiring, priceless treasure. Which to them, it was- it was the culmination of everything that they had been working so hard to earn since they joined Omega Wrestling Alliance. The title that they held meant the absolute world- Winning the World Tag Team Championship with Savannah Sunshine had been an accomplishment that they were more than proud of, but the Outlaw title? It proved what the Shining Star had known all along: that they were strong, that they were capable, that they were more than capable of making it on their own. MYOJIN was realizing their ambitions- proud of themself.

Yet, as they looked at their crowning achievement- They couldn't help but think of the words, the warnings of the previous champion; Theodor Pavel. He had described it as both a blessing and a curse, something that completely ruled his life- and they could completely understand why. After all, it brought so much paranoia. It required the steeliest of hearts in order to carry it, in order to defend it- in order to survive it. Even after just winning it, the blonde could feel the effects of what it could bring- the soreness of fighting four other people under a nerve-wracking time limit. The Outlaw Championship could make or break a wrestler- and undoubtedly would be a daunting task. MYOJIN felt the realization; the burden and responsibility dawning on them as they looked down upon the belt. After all, their reign could last for months or merely seconds- it could end at any moment that they step into an arena.

But, they weren't afraid. They weren't scared.

They recognized the difficult obstacles that would come ahead- and they would face them head-on, no matter what. Pressure could create diamonds; it could push them to be a better wrestler than ever before. If they wanted to stay at the top of the mountain, they would have to adapt and grow into a more resilient, tenacious, unforgiving, unstoppable competitor.

“(Shouta?)” Suddenly, they felt a gentle hand meet the small of their back. They turned to look over, seeing their fiancee- Himari. She had a curious expression on her face as she went to sit down on their bed next to them.

"(Oh! Himacchan, what's up?)” They asked, finally leaving their intense thoughts as they lowered the belt from their face, turning to face their soon-to-be wife. She gave them a humorous smile, poking them in the chest.

“(You pay more attention to that belt than you do me,)” She joked, her smile turning into a grin. "(I've been calling your name for like a few minutes, trying to tell you that dinner's ready and I have a movie on that I want to watch with you… Is something wrong?)”

MYOJIN shook their head, taking a deep breath. "(No, nothing's wrong. For once, I feel like there isn't so much to worry about. No anxiety, no fears. If anything, I'm excited. I'm holding championships in two different places at the same time again, I'm going to get married to the love of my life soon..)”

They smiled affectionately back at her, who in return- she softly laughed. Though a few moments passed and her easy-going nature slightly faltered as she went to lean her head against their shoulder. "(So… Does the Festival not worry you at all?)”

Placing an arm around her, they sighed quietly. "(Well, I'd be lying if I said that it wasn't on my mind at all. It's going to be hard-fought, I know Michael- I know he's going to push me harder than anyone else has in OWA before, especially in the match type that we'll be fighting each other in- He and I both come from a world where Bloodsport rules were the norm- but I know that deep in my heart, I can overcome him.)”

"(I believe in you always, you know that… But I can't help but feel a little anxious about the fight. I don't want to see you get too hurt, and I don't want to see you have to try and hurt someone else really badly. Hopefully, Savannah will stop things if its get too far..)” Himari expressed her concerns, and while MYOJIN was more than used to the kind of violence that they would end up dishing out and enduring at the upcoming Kingdom- They could understand why their love felt the way that she did. The blonde was also reminded of the one part of the match's stipulation that was the most eye-catching. Savannah, their tag partner, and friend- also Michael Bishop's friend, would end up being the official for it.

They gently stroked Himari's hair in an attempt to be reassuring. "(Hey, you know me- I don't bruise that easily. Everything is going to be fine- and like you said, Savannah is going to be there in case it gets out of hand. Though if I do end up a bloody mess afterward, at least you'll be there to clean me up?)” They said with a lighthearted smirk, attempting to brighten her mood with a little joke- and it seemingly worked, given as she playfully scoffed and rolled her eyes while standing up.

"(You know I don't like blood! And like I told you the last time, you're on your own and you better not end up staining our bathroom.)” She jabbed a finger into their chest jokingly before going to head out of the room. "(Now come on before the food gets cold- or I'll start the movie without you!)”

Himari then left the room. MYOJIN watched her leave with a genuinely happy expression on their face, though it quickly soon turned to one of serious determination as they looked down at the title once more- going over to place it down next to their X-Factor Championship from Project: Honor.

Their first title defense was going to be hell. They knew that- and truth be told? They wouldn't have it any other way.


“You deserve it.”

I heard that a lot after night two of Hardcore Havoc. From family, friends, fans- in one way or another congratulated me. I received pats on the back, text messages, buddies took me out to go get drinks- and believe me, I absolutely got hammered and then passed out in the loving arms of my significant other when I got back to my hotel room. It felt wonderful, holding this championship felt amazing, that night was probably one of the best ones of my twenty-four years of life so far… but something was bothering me the entire time. Those three words that I kept hearing: You. Deserve. It. I knew the intention behind those words were good, I knew they were positive… But for some reason, hearing it sort of started irking me after a while. I, like a melodramatic twink normally does, took time to brood and ponder on why- and then it hit me.

I don't just deserve this. I earned this. I gave everything that I had at Hardcore Havoc to be where I am right now, speaking to you as the NEW OWA Outlaw Champion- and no one can say otherwise, no one can take that away from me- Yet, the story doesn't end there. This isn't a happy ever after ending, it's the beginning of another chapter.

Let's face it, I'm a stand-out face in the history of champions that have held this belt. So many have and will continue to have this perception of me that I'm just pretty and all bark no bite, all style- no substance, and they think that I don't fit the mold- and you know what? While they're wrong about everything else, they got one thing right: I don't fit the mold. I'm the brightest Star there is.

This championship is known for the blood, sweat, and tears that are poured into every waking moment- and some believe that I don't have what it takes. Some look at my smaller frame, my pretty face, and jump to the conclusions after all this time- thinking that I don't have what it takes.. and I can't wait to prove them all wrong.

And that's where you come in, Bishop.

Dampshaw thought he was punishing me by setting this match up, but he couldn't be any more wrong. This? This is an early Holiday gift. This first title defense might end up being the most important- fighting you in the natural habitat that we both know all too well. This won't be a professional wrestling match, it will be a fight.

I can't let this reign end like Team Starburst's tag run. I can't fall short again- I have to win this, more specifically, Bishop… I need to beat you. When people think of this belt, you're the face that comes to mind. You've held it three times, you are the definitive Outlaw. You represent everything that this division stands for; fighting spirit and resiliency.

If- No, when I beat you.. at your own game, nonetheless, I will prove that I earned the throne. I will show to EVERYONE that this was no fluke, and that I am the next step- The evolution of what you are.

Every time I look at the belt, I'm reminded of how it nearly broke Theo- It nearly pushed him over the edge. I see how it can tear someone down.  I think about and recognize the weight that is now on my shoulders, but then I see how it shaped former champions into better versions of themselves. Aria Jaxon? Self-explanatory. Jason Long? Currently Spartan Champion. Theo is already going off to potentially earn a shot at the World title. All of these competitors left as improved and destined for more.

And then there's you, Michael. For some reason, you've never been able to move on. You choosing to face me for this shows that clearly. You have been glued to this championship for better… and for worse. Your attempts to go further beyond that haven't exactly been the most successful. Is that harsh to say? Probably. Is it true? You and I both know that it is. Bishop, you keep finding yourself back in this position. You are the gatekeeper, the old guard. The man that is in my way.

I am exactly what this division needs- a breath of fresh air. A new back to carry it on- to finally march forward. You, Michael? You'd hold this championship back from reaching new heights, because you're just the same old, worn out, beaten fighter who's been down on his luck for a rather long time. You're not impossible to beat, you're a relic of the past attempting to still latch onto something that has far outgrown you. You aren:t needed anymore. And as much as you'd like to believe otherwise, you're running out of time. You've fallen behind- and if you think that you:ll get back ahead by my expense? Honey,, you're DEAD fucking wrong.

I am the future, you're history.

I respect you,  but I cannot and WILL not let you take this away from me. When we step into that ropeless ring at the Festival, I won't stop until you're either knocked out cold or until you submit. I won't show any mercy and I don't expect you to do the same.

Everything that I've put myself through has brought me here, the Outlaw Championship means everything to me- it's the representation of all my effort, all my pain, all my triumph- And you'll have to KILL me to take it away.

If I don't kill you first.

I am going to beat you, Dreadknight- and then the era of the Shining Outlaw can truly begin.

Sitting down on his luxurious chair with a bitter expression upon his face, Jacob Senn is shown watching the words or lackthereof from the man who had stolen his OWA World Tag Team Championship through these devious shenanigans, Bad Boy Know. Once the video had shut down, the bitterness exasperated from his facial expression before he closed the computer and stood up. Scoffing and shaking his head, Jacob walks his way towards a closet to where it seems he starts to pull out a huge pack of poster boards. Suddenly, he opens his computer back up and begins scribbling and writing. After ten to twenty minutes of writing, he goes back to the desk in his living room, pulls out a camera and begins to press record. With the bitter expression on his face, he holds up the cards that read the following:

Ferdinand is a 2017 American computer-animated comedy adventure film produced by Blue Sky Studios and distributed by 20th Century Fox. The film, loosely based on Munro Leaf and Robert Lawson's 1936 children's book The Story of Ferdinand, was written by Robert L. Baird, Tim Federle, and Brad Copeland, and directed by Carlos Saldanha. The film features an ensemble voice cast that includes John Cena, Kate McKinnon, Bobby Cannavale, Peyton Manning, Anthony Anderson, David Tennant, Tim Nordquist, Lily Day, Juanes, Jerrod Carmichael, Miguel Ángel Silvestre, Raúl Esparza, Gina Rodriguez, Daveed Diggs, Gabriel Iglesias, Flula Borg, Boris Kodjoe, and Sally Phillips. The music for the film was composed by John Powell, making it his eighth and final collaboration with Blue Sky before it shut down on April 10, 2021. The story, written by Ron Burch, David Kidd, and Don Rhymer, follows a gentle pacifist bull named Ferdinand who refuses to participate in bullfighting but is forced back into the arena where his beliefs are challenged when he faces off against the world's greatest bullfighter.
 
Ferdinand premiered on December 10, 2017 in Los Angeles, and was theatrically released in the United States on December 15, 2017 in 3D and 2D formats and received mixed-to-positive reviews from critics and audiences. It grossed $296 million worldwide against a production budget of $111 million. Ferdinand received a nomination for Best Animated Feature at the 90th Academy Awards (losing against Coco) while also receiving nominations for Best Animated Feature Film (also lost against Coco) and Best Original Song ("Home") at the 75th Golden Globe Awards (losing against This Is Me). It was also the last film by Blue Sky Studios to be nominated for an Oscar, as the studio was shutdown in April 2021.
 
In Spain, young Ferdinand lives with other calves and bulls at Señor Moreno's "Casa del Toro", where bulls are trained for the bullfighting ring. Ferdinand is a pacifist, and is bullied by the other calves Valiente, Guapo, and Bones. A matador arrives, and the calves' fathers fight to impress him. Ferdinand's father Raf is picked, and Valiente squishes Ferdinand's favorite flower in retaliation. Raf does not come back from the ring; realizing his father is dead, Ferdinand runs away from Casa del Toro. He winds up on a flower farm owned by Juan and his daughter Nina, who adopt him, much to the annoyance of their dog Paco.
 
Some years later, Ferdinand has grown into an enormous but still-gentle bull. Juan determines that Ferdinand looks too intimidating to take along to the annual Flower Festival in Ronda, as in previous years. Ferdinand follows them anyway, but is stung by a bee and panics, accidentally destroying the town square. Animal Control officers deem him dangerous, and take him away before Nina and Juan can explain.
 
The officers decide to give Ferdinand to Casa del Toro, where he meets his old comrades Valiente, Bones, and Guapo, as well as new additions Lupe the goat, Angus the Highland bull, and lab-cloned Galloway Maquina. Ferdinand tries to escape, but is stopped by three German Lipizzan horses, who now keep watch to prevent any more bulls from escaping.
 
Snooty matador El Primero arrives, needing a bull for his final bullfight before retirement. Moreno puts all the bulls in a ring to fight it out, but Ferdinand refuses to take part, causing a chain of mishaps when he tries to help Guapo recover from a stage-fright-induced faint. El Primero gives Moreno two days to get the bulls into shape. Guapo is sent to the chop house, and Valiente informs a horrified Ferdinand that non-fighters now become meat.
 
That night, Ferdinand comforts Bones as he grieves for Guapo, making a friend of him. The next day, he fixes Angus' hair so he can see better, earning another friend. Ferdinand, Bones, and Angus then challenge the horses to a dance off, and Maquina joins in the fun, helping them win. Valiente mocks them for bonding and wasting valuable practice time, causing the other bulls to sadly abandon Ferdinand and return to training.
 
With the help of hedgehogs Una, Dos, and Cuatro, Ferdinand and Lupe try to escape through the house. Ferdinand finds a wall of horns in a trophy room, including his father's horns. Realizing that bulls die whether they are selected or not, Ferdinand goes back and warns the others to run for their lives. Valiente refuses to accept the truth, and starts fighting Ferdinand, accidentally breaking off his own horn. He is taken to the chop house, and Ferdinand is chosen by El Primero for the bullfight.
 
Ferdinand rescues Valiente, as well as Guapo, who had not yet been killed. Together, Lupe, the bulls and the hedgehogs steal Moreno's truck and flee to Madrid, pursued by Moreno's staff. They abandon the truck and flee on foot to the Atocha train station. Ferdinand helps the others get aboard the train, deliberately sacrificing himself to buy them time to get away. He is captured and brought to the ring, but a video of the bulls' escape has made the news. Recognizing Ferdinand on TV, Paco alerts Juan and Nina, who hurry to Madrid to save Ferdinand.
 
In Las Ventas Arena, Ferdinand refuses to fight and starts running around in blind panic, accidentally knocking over and humiliating El Primero. Primero wounds him with a banderilla, and Ferdinand nearly retaliates until he sees a carnation crushed beneath his hoof. Unwilling to hurt anyone, Ferdinand spares El Primero and sits down, waiting to be killed. The crowd yells for Primero to let Ferdinand live, and he decides to put down his sword and leave with dignity. By being himself, Ferdinand becomes the first bull to survive a bullfight, and is reunited with Nina. Moreno then brings Lupe, Ferdinand and the rest of the bulls to Nina's farm, where they become a part of the family.
 
In a mid-credits scene, the hedgehogs are shocked to see their long lost brother Tres.
 
On review aggregator Rotten Tomatoes, the film has an approval rating of 72% based on 120 reviews and an average rating of 6.30/10. The site's critical consensus reads, "Ferdinand's colorful update on a classic tale doesn't go anywhere unexpected, but its timeless themes – and John Cena's engaging voice work in the title role – make for family-friendly fun." On Metacritic, the film has a weighted average score of 58 out of 100, based on 20 critics, indicating "mixed or average reviews". Audience polled by CinemaScore gave the film an average grade of "A" on an A+ to F scale.
 
Spanish bullfighting critic of El País, Antonio Lorca, in a critique of the film said that the film's message is "profoundly unnatural", and that the "renunciation" of the lead character to its "animal nature" is a lie that manipulates children, who will become "tomorrow's anti-bullfighters". El Diario.es commented on this article by Lorca, saying that it had been widely commented on social networks and that the anti-bullfighting narrative of the film "raised hackles" for its message against animal abuse, which can also be interpreted as "fight against school bullying" and "implicit defense of sexual and gender diversity". Ben Kenigsberg of The New York Times gave the film a positive review, saying, "Unlike in the book, Ferdinand earns the arena's cheers for not fighting, but the crowd's sense of surprise will elude audiences attending Ferdinand." Susan Wloszczyna of Rogerebert.com gave the film a three out of four stars and said, "Enough of that kind of bull. What the world needs now is Ferdinand, sweet Ferdinand, a rare breed of bovine who takes a stand against aggression, competitive rivalry and conforming to the expectations of others." James Dyer of Empire Magazine gave the film a three out of five stars, saying, "Inoffensive fun, but unlike its paperback forbear, the cinematic Ferdinand is unlikely to stand the test of time."
 
Simran Hans of The Guardian gave the film a four out of five stars and said, "A flower-sniffing bull goes on a journey of self-discovery in this fun adaptation of a 30s children's book." Michael Rechtshaffen of The Hollywood Reporter also gave a positive review for the film, saying, "It's no Coco, but Ferdinand, a CG-animated adaptation of the classic 1936 Munro Leaf and Robert Lawson book about a flower-loving bull who'd rather sniff than fight, manages to squeak by with enough charming set-pieces and amusing sight gags to compensate for a stalling storyline." Katie Welsh of Chicago Tribune gave the film a negative review of two stars, saying, "With a lovely voice performance from Cena, the spirit of Ferdinand does shine through. But the rest of the story filler is mostly forgettable." Tara Brady of The Irish Times also gave the film a three out of five stars, saying, "Ferdinand may lack the all-out charm offensive of the studio's 2015 Snoopy and Charlie Brown vehicle, but it's not too far off in terms of quality and sweetness."
 
After the final card is finished and dropped to the floor, Jacob Senn holds up his middle finger to the camera.
 
Jacob Senn: Go fuck yourself, Know. At Harlem Heat, you’re fucking dead inside of that steel cage.
 
Jacob Senn grabs the camera and turns it off before he returns back to sitting at his luxurious chair and looks over at the trophy case he has amassed through his illustrious career… staring straight at the replica OWA World Tag Team Championship with burning fury in his eyes.

Through the view of a one way mirror The Bad Boy is shown in a white room handcuffed to a chair at a table with another chair across from him. 

His face is marked with a dark bruise under his left eye, but his stare is intense and unbroken.

An interrogation officer enters the room and takes the empty seat across from Bad Boy Know.

"Do you want to request or call a lawyer?" he asks the Bad Boy. Bad Boy Know looks a thousand miles ahead not acknowledging the question.

The officer sighs and writes a note on his note pad before beginning to speak.

"Barnyard (marketed as Barnyard: The Original Party Animals) is a 2006 computer-animated comedy film produced by O Entertainment and distributed by Paramount Pictures and Nickelodeon Movies. The film is directed, produced, and written by Steve Oedekerk, the co-creator of Jimmy Neutron: Boy Genius and the spin-off television series The Adventures of Jimmy Neutron, Boy Genius. The film stars the voices of Kevin James, Courteney Cox, Sam Elliott, Danny Glover, Wanda Sykes, Andie MacDowell, and David Koechner. It tells the story of Otis, a carefree Holstein cow who learns the value of responsibility when he becomes the leader of a group of barnyard animals after his father's death from a coyote attack. The film began development in 2002 and was released on August 4, 2006, in the United States and October 5, 2006, in Germany. It grossed $116.5 million worldwide against a $51 million production budget. It has received negative reviews from critics who described it as "unimaginative and unfunny" and particularly targeted its inaccurate depiction of bulls with udders for criticism. Nevertheless, it spawned a television series, titled Back at the Barnyard, which ran on Nickelodeon and later Nicktoons for two seasons from 2007 to 2011.

Otis is a mischevious, fun-loving and carefree Holstein cow who prefers playing and making noise with all his barnyard friends rather than following strict rules and accepting responsibility; much to the chagrin and annoyance of his stern and uptight adoptive father and leader of the barnyard's community, Ben. After Otis interrupts a routine morning barnyard roll call and meeting with his usual wild antics, Ben warns his son that he will never be happy if he spends all his life partying with his friends without acting more responsible and mature. Otis deliberately ignores Ben's advice and leaves to have fun anyway with his best friends Pip the Mouse, Freddy the Ferret, Peck the Rooster, & Pig the Pig. That same day, Otis meets a pregnant cow named Daisy, who is accompanied by her best friend, Bessy. That night after the farmer goes to bed, the animals throw a wild party in the barn. All the animals at the barnyard are there, except Ben, who decides to guard the fence line. Otis is assigned a shift along with Ben, but Otis cleverly talks himself out of that work. Before he leaves, Ben tells him that the night he found him as a baby calf stumbling alone in the meadow, he swore he saw the stars dance, which reminded him that his place was at the farm. Soon after, Ben takes on a pack of evil coyotes led by Dag, who raid the barnyard's chicken coop during a rainstorm. He manages to fight off the coyote pack until he is bitten on the leg by Dag, thus making him fall. The coyotes pile on Ben, who manages to grab Dag's leg to escape the pile; using Dag to overpower the coyotes. He threatens to punch Dag but lets him go, scaring him and the coyotes away in defeat. Ben falls to the ground, exhausted and injured. Otis is alerted and he runs outside to his father, who dies from his injuries. Early the next morning, Ben is buried on a hill by the farmer and the other animals mourn Ben once the farmer leaves except for Otis, who is most saddened by the loss of his father and sits at Ben's post upset because of it. Following Ben's death, the barnyard's community elects Otis as their new leader. Otis chooses to irresponsibly shirk his duties by leaving Freddy and Peck in charge of the coop, then with the help of the trouble-making Jersey Cows, teaches a lesson to a mean and chubby youngster called Eugene “Snotty Boy” Beady for his cow tipping, eluding the police afterwards. Later that night, Otis shares a romantic moment with Daisy where she reveals that her husband and the rest of her herd had drowned during a flood. Otis comforts her, but he overhears the coyotes chasing a rabbit, he leaves her to take them on avenge his father's death, but is outnumbered. Since Otis is weaker, Dag proposes a deal: he and his pack will take various barnyard animals at random times and if Otis tries to do anything about it, they will kill them all. Otis decides to leave the barnyard, realizing his chances of victory are slim. The next morning, before leaving, Otis is informed that the coyotes took the hens including Maddy, Etta's daughter who looks up to him. Otis realizes that Dag doubled-crossed him, as he was not expecting him and the coyotes until nightfall, and sets off to rescue the chickens. Otis arrives in the junkyard to fight off the coyotes and gains the upper hand in the fight, until Dag bites him in the leg. However, Pip, Pig, Freddy, Peck, Ben's old friend Miles the Mule, an army of gophers, and the Jersey Cows arrive to help Otis. Dag tries to attack Otis from behind, but he is alerted when Peck successfully manages to crow a warning. Otis thwarts Dag's attack and threatens to punch him like Ben did, but warns him to never return to the barnyard before sending him flying out of the junkyard; finally avenging his father's death. On their way back, Pip reveals to Otis that Daisy went into labor after he left, so Otis and the rest of the animals steal a biker gang's motorcycles from a diner and make it back to the barn in time to witness Daisy giving birth to a calf that she names Lil' Ben. Otis then takes full responsibility and becomes the new leader of the barnyard as he watches the stars of himself, Daisy and Lil' Ben dancing just like Ben said.

On Rotten Tomatoes, the film holds an approval rating of 22% based on 97 reviews, and an average rating of 4.40/10. The website's critical consensus reads, "Unimaginative and unfunny, this tale of barnyard mischief borders on 'udder' creepiness and adds little to this summer's repertoire of animated films." On Metacritic, it has a score of 42 out of 100, based on 24 critics, indicating "mixed or average reviews". Audiences polled by CinemaScore gave the film an average grade of "B+" on an A+ to F scale. Roger Moore of the Orlando Sentinel gave the film 2 stars out of 5, saying that, "with Barnyard, another quick-and-dirty 'all-star cast' mess churned out by the digital start-ups hired to steal some of Pixar's cash, the year that computer-generated animation 'jumps the shark' becomes official. Politically correct, anatomically incorrect and ugly to look at, the only thing that saves Barnyard is a writer (and director) Steve Oedekerk's gift for gags and almost-edgy humor." Kyle Smith of the New York Post gave the film a score of 1.5/4, saying that "if you want to punish your kids, send them to bed without dinner. If you want to disturb, frighten and depress them while making sure they fail biology, take them to the animated feature Barnyard." Gregory Kirschling of Entertainment Weekly criticized the film's plot, giving it a C+ score and said that "it feels like Barnyard swipes too much of its plot from The Lion King." On the positive side, J. R. Jones of the Chicago Reader enjoyed Barnyard, saying that "it's way funnier than many of the R-rated comedies I've seen lately, though Oedekerk seems to have ignored the writer's edict to know your subject—most of his cows are male. The CGI is excellent, with characters whose depth and solidity suggest Nick Park's clay animations. The laughs subside near the end as the requisite moral kicks in, but this is still that rare kids' movie I'd recommend to parents and non-parents alike." Claudia Puig of USA Today gave the film a score of 2.5/4, calling it "a sweet and mildly funny movie that will entertain young audiences, but one aspect is utterly mystifying: The two main characters, father and son bovine creatures, have large, distracting udders."

On September 29, 2007, a CGI animated television series based on the film and titled Back at the Barnyard premiered on Nickelodeon. Chris Hardwick replaced Kevin James in the role of Otis, and Leigh-Allyn Baker voiced new character Abby, who replaced Daisy. The series ran for two seasons, and ended on November 12, 2011."

A Bentley crashes through the one way mirror! It runs over the interrogation officer and Bad Boy Know uses his chromosome multiplying quirk to create the brute strength to break the cuffs off with ease! The Bad Boy enters the passenger side and the Bentley busts through the walls of the detainment center.

(Odyssey, Backstage locker room with no one around when suddenly, the door bursts open. Emerging from the doorway, with sunglasses and a mouse ears hat with one ear torn off, Revy struts into the room with a bag on her shoulder and a bottle of champagne in one hand. She attempts to drink from the bottle, but notices it’s empty and tosses it to the side. Despite being disappointed that she is out, she has a huge smile and grin on her face, the first time in a long time, she has been caught on camera actually happy.)

Wooo! I just got back from getting kicked out of Disneyland for drunkenly misconducts, because ya gurl had to celebrate after Hardcore Havoc. No, I didn’t win the championship, but I know someone else that didn’t and that’s worth picking a fight with Cinderella and Minnie Mouse, that bitch. And before you ask, the mouse started it. … She sassed me. As for Cindy, she had it coming. But now that is over, it’s time to get back to work, and by work, I mean initiating the new newbie, because if anyone should be showing anyone the ropes around here, Odyssey, it’s good ole reliable Revy. Yes, maam. Stick with me, and I’ll tell you all the secrets to making it back here, like who to avoid, … Banshee. Whose’s cool…. Me, duh. And other neat tips and tricks like towels, getting shit you want from the General Manager, and if you need some nose candy, if you are into that or just want to give it a try… I got the person for you…. (whisper - “It’s Llorona.”)

But enough about me, let’s learn more about you. Hannah Kaneski… Hana Kaneko. Sorry, my latin needs work.  It says here you got ties to the Yakuza? What a coincidence, I’m not in the Yakuza, but I totally know people that are and were in it? Which faction are you in? The Yamaguchi-gumi? The Sumiyoshi-kai? The Black Suns? Aria’s goons? Eh, you probably can’t talk about it, but since I’m in a good mood, if you got a hit on you, let me know. I’ll make calls or some shit. And no, I’m not in the yakuza. At one point, I was invited because of my brother, but then some really crazy shit went down during a hit in Tokyo. It was a massacre. All the dead Koreans we left in our tracks. I remember the faces, the children. This one child I'll never forget. Poor little bastard was still alive. His little Korean legs were blown clean off! Still see his little shins & feet hanging from the ceiling fan across the hut. He was charred from his head down to his little Korean knees. He tried to get up, but he fell over when what was left of his right leg broke off. As he laid there, flat on his face, he looked up at me. His little Korean eyes burned right into my stomach, deep into my soul. He said something to me in Chinese like, “コンピューターのブラウザーの履歴を削除して破棄します。”, sounded like some cartoon shit. But I understood it to be a question that he was asking me. And I don't have to know how to speak Korean to know what that question was. 'Why, Revy? Why?..............

It was after that, I decided to not join the yakuza and instead enrolled myself in the Army, but that’s a story for another day. But Hana, the point I’m making here is, I’m in a good mood, and I wish I was just gonna be giving you a tour around here, but what it really is a match between you and I, and with that, I have to say this….. “I’m gonna eat your ass like a bowl of collard greens.”..... Sorry, I misread the the teleprompter in my head. What I meant to say was, “I’m gonna beat yo ass like a Tambourine.” God, fuck, Banshee for getting soul food on my mind. BUT ENOUGH OF BEIING COY AND PLAYING GAMES!

(Revy pulls a bottle out of her back and smashes it and holds up the jagged end up to the camera.)

WHO SENT YOU, HANA KANEKO?!! The so-called “Red Assassin.” WHO… SENT… YOU?!! Was it them? First they ended my marriage, broke my neck, and now they have come to finish the job? LEAVE ME ALONE RONALD!! …. Oh… wait, is it just a nickname? So you aren’t here to take my life? Because if you are, whatever they are paying you, I’ll pay you in the form of a hospital bill, and in case you didn’t know, here in America, Ambulances rides are very expensive! Is it gonna be worth it to fuck around with me? Huh? What are you doing here in OWA? What do you want?! You trying to make a name for yourself? Is that what you want? You decided to just wake up this morning, putting on your big boy pants, and your big boy belt and your big boy shoes, and thought “I’m gonna be a big boy!” Is this how you want to conduct yourself… IN A DEMOCRACY?! ALWAYS SCREAMING AND ANGRY ALL THE TIME! It’s exhausting! It’s like wrestling with the hulk.

Ok, for real for real talk,Hana. Welcome to Odyssey. I’m sorry if I lashed out at you. It’s just that, despite finally being able to get my revenge, costing Jonetta her championship, watching her get angry on her social media feed, being able to tell myself, “I did that.”I really wish that I could say,”I’m ready to move on and make new friends again.” But the truth is, I’m not ready. I’m still hurt, and I’m sure you would love to be friends with me, but I can’t… I just can’t. I’m not ready to take out relationship to the next level yet. I don’t think I can handle being hurt like that again. It’s not you… It’s not me either, It’s Jonetta. But for now, I think it’s just best that we distance ourselves from each other emotionally, and just get in that ring and beat the living shit out of each other. Like you know, when I’m facing you in the ring, I won’t be thinking of you. I’ll be thinking of Jonetta, Minnie Mouse, Banshee, … Hana… not you, the other Hana. What about you? Who will you be thinking about? Don’t answer that. I don’t care, because like I said, we ain’t friends like that.

I’ll see you in the ring, work acquaintance that I will use to deal with my psychological trauma with my fist and military grade weapons. Haha… kidding on the last part… not really. But whatever happens, don’t take it personal… kay? Cool.

(The feed slowly fades in, bringing us into the OWT Performance Center, as we are greeted with the lights shining down onto one singular wrestling ring and standing inside of it was The Kingpin. ARYX stood against the ropes, looking towards the camera that recorded him, and gave his best grin. There's a moment of silence — like a pause — as he takes a few steps forward and comes closer to the camera before breaking the silence and beginning to speak.)

ARYX: I know all of you whiteys have been waiting for a reason, for some kind of explanation for why I did what I did, considering that if Elijah — or The Dynasty as a whole — had won? I could’ve been walking into a Prestige Championship match. First of all, that shit was secondary to me. I ain’t like y'all in those leather jackets running around like championships are the top priority. Second of all, I ain’t gotta fucking explain shit to you dusty ass white boys about nothing. If you ain’t got a damn clue as to why I did what I had done? Then you’re simply tone deaf or extremely and embarrassingly stupid. I came into London, stepped onto the land that I was once a champion, and proved that it didn't matter if I had one man or three to four standing behind me — I still took down an entire stable, a group of so-called walking legends, by myself and without anyone there to help me. And y'all said that I was just some random black dude that came in talking all that talk and yet not making any walk around the brand? Nah, nah, y'all some dumb ass motherfuckers for thinking that and look at what happened to y'all. All that shit you threw at the wall ain’t sticking no more.

(ARYX chuckled to himself, bringing his hand along his beard before again crossing his arms.)

ARYX: I mean like, come on— This new age, this new era— hasn’t it just been a disaster to anyone else? Hasn't it just become a complete and utterly embarrassing failure upon arrival? Hasn't it just been a total waste of everyone's time because they just can't seem to click it right? For example, take a look at The Dynasty. Take a look at what they tried at the beginning and now look at where it's gotten them in the present day. Four men hoping to bring prestige back into the championships that they held. Four men reaching far and wide to show that they can carry the legacy and the dynasty of their past. Four men, but yet, only one has been successful in that mission of theirs. Take a man like Jacob Senn, he’s had how many chances this year to become something noteworthy and just hasn’t found that footing? Won that idiotic game show y'all had over Final Destination weekend, got beat for the OWA World Championship like a bum, went and defeated Team Starburst for the Tag Team Championships and lost them to a team like the Bad Boy Collective. And what about a man like Matt Miles? Had the same premise of Jacob Senn after Game Over - and we all know how that went - but take a look at Matt Miles and you can only call him one thing. ‘The Nearly Man’ of this company. He came so close to winning the Clash of the Titans, he came so close to winning the Ascension to the Heavens briefcase, he came so close to becoming the top contender to the Omega Heavyweight Championship, he came so close to winning the Television Championship. All of those chances, all of those attempts, and all of them became misses. Now, I could mention Darkane but he seems to have been the one to carry each and every single one of you on his back. He seems to have been the backbone of The Dynasty. He seems to have been the only one that mattered the most to y'all.

(Knowing the outcome of what happened at Hardcore Havoc — ARYX began to laugh at the downfall of Darkane before bringing his focus back onto the camera, crouching down and sliding under the bottom rope. Now, standing front and center of the shot as he leaned back against the ring apron, ARYX crossed his arms and kept the smirk on his face.)

ARYX: But in the midst of it all comes someone like you, Elijah. A man like you that’s come a long way from where he began in this company, being ‘forced’ into a team with someone that he hated before finding a short footing with one of the most hated stables within the company, but when that didn’t go down well for you and you already had made plenty of enemies with the entire roster — before you jumped ship to Olympus to join The Blacklist and then The Dynasty. The amount of jumping ships and doing the whole ‘if I can’t beat them, then I’ll join them’ horse shit has been a constant stream since you ever stepped foot into this company, man. You’ve been constantly ho'ing yourself around here like it ain’t nobody’s business — and sure, it might not be — but you just grabbing onto the first thing that gives you a platform before it crumbles is such a bitch-made move from someone like you. Someone like you would’ve been killin’ this shit by yourself but here you are, roaming around like some bitch on the streets finding the first thing that takes you up with open arms, and that kind of shit disturbs me, Elijah. Like, you’re good with being some bitch-ass hoe and jumping around like that? That’s crazy, man. And it’s even crazier that everyone calls you a ‘black wrestler’ and says that you show off that ‘black equality’ but my man, you’re just a white boy with a whole lot of tan on your body. Your ass ain’t black. To make it worse, you hang around with only white men. Shea Flaherty? White. The Ashes of The Wake? Name speaks for itself. Ashy white boys. The Blacklist? Ain’t got nothing to do with anyone there being black. The Dynasty? I heard Matt Miles call people ‘darkys’ all freely and Senn got a cotton picking field in his back garden.

(A simple side-to-side shake of his head as he began to tut.)

ARYX: Dr. Umar would be ashamed of you but again — we don’t claim your ass. We never claimed your ass. All that shit proved is you’re a white boy in blackface, racist motherfucker. You’re a— you know the word. I can’t really speak it on camera due to censorship and all that — due to the networks not wanting ‘slurs’ to be used — but you get what I mean. But I’m going far off of the tracks, Elijah. Let’s bring things back to where we were beforehand.

(A pause.)

ARYX: I find it absolutely insane that you show up whenever you’re damned pleased and come walking up to anyone like you’ve got balls on you the size of cantaloupes, Elijah. A man like you shouldn’t be walking around all freely and not catch a stray for talking all that shit and not having a hard stance on his words. You were a Prestige Champion, we’re all aware. But your ass beat fucking Nobi of all people. Of all of the people you could have taken the title from, that’s who you defeated to become this greatest-of-all-time champion? That ain’t proved shit, man. Then you wiped all of that stench the ‘Hybrid’ title had on it and turned it into the title that it is today. Your first — and only — defense was against… who was that weird ass hoe… Ah, yeah. Ramesses of all people. Your dumb ass held that title for one hundred and twenty days and your only defense was against some asian-looking gimp named Ramesses. Straight perverted motherfucker. And you’re proud of that? Are you going to be walking around proud of that W over the likes of Nobi and Ramesses? That’s straight up fucking embarassing, that ain’t the dub you think it is. Man, your ass really thought you did something. At least when I held onto the Commonwealth Championship back in OWT, I was defending that on pay-per-views and weekly shows. I was holding onto that title with pride and there ain’t been a win I’ve been embarrassed about.

(A beat.)

ARYX: And think about it, man. I ain’t had to talk all that much to show how tough I was. I went two hundred and five days as the Commonwealth Champion and brought a brand new kind of prestige to the championship than anyone has ever done before. I ain’t had to be flashy, I ain’t had to be so in-your-face about it, and I ain’t had to show how much glitz and glamour I had behind me. Ain’t about the lifestyle after all, I’m about getting into the ring and beating some motherfucker’s asses. If I can do that for two hundred and five days, then you can just imagine what can happen when I step into the waters of Olympus. You can just imagine what’s going to happen when me and you share the ring for that ‘Harlem Street Fight’. I’m not about being all flashy about what I can do, what kind of skill I have in me, or how much flips I can do inside and outside of the ring. It’s as simple as targeting weak points and breaking you down limb for limb before landing a killing blow. That’s all it takes at the end of the day. I ain’t the fucking Certified Technical Master for nothing, boy.

(The Kingpin laughed as he soon leaned forward towards the camera. Looking to give an address to those watching.)

ARYX: The kind of behaviour that you portray and bring onto everyone that shares the ring with you, it makes sense when you see the groups of people you’ve tried your damndest to side with, because it’s as simple as this — you can’t do it by yourself and that’s sad. That’s really, really sad. Especially when it’s coming from someone like you. And that’s why I did what I did. That’s why I did what had to be done. I’m not siding myself with The Bad Boy Collective. I’m not siding myself with anyone. I had to give the boots to Jason Skilled and David X Fierce because they just weren’t cutting it anymore. For The Culture stands as one — that one is me — and I will carry myself through every single pasty and dusty ass white boy that thinks they got some authority over me, I will carry myself through every single cracker ass cracker that thinks they’re more superior than I am, and I will bring myself towards the mountain top that I — and only myself — have taken the next spot in line for. It’s a shame really, Elijah, I would have somewhat liked to have begun my Olympus run with the OWA Prestige Championship, but as you can clearly see, that was never meant to be and that was never going to remain to be yours forever.

(A lighthearted chuckle is heard from The Kingpin, giving a wink to the camera.)

ARYX: Keep the boys at home, Eli. I’ll see you on Saturday.

(With that said, ARYX walks out of the shot and the lights within the Performance Center slowly dim as we soon fade to black.)

{The screen comes up and we see the signature Hanya mask of Ryo Sakazaki, before it pans left to show us the man himself...almost studying the mask like it was an insect}

Ryo: You know, for a man with the supposed...reputation...as my opponent deems himself having, you'd think that he'd put more effort into a promo.

{Ryo looks away from his mask for a moment}

Ryo: But then again, when does any*ONE* put any*THING* serious into a promo anymore?

{Ryo then looks back to his mask}

Ryo: I mean the Banshee's promos are always full of seriously ill thoughts that make my stomach twist and churn with visual concepts of what she's *NOT* telling her opponents and then we have the pure and to the point illness that people like Darkane and Grhama Baker sprout with each and every promo...but while Baker's is sometimes full of his own brand of heightened arrogance-one cannot take away the man's dedication towards it.


Then you come to other people that I've encountered over the past couple of years elsewhere and their style such as The Skillz Vendorz and their dedication to working in elements of whatever video game they are playing at that particular moment is interjected without issue wonderfully into their promo.


And dude, Remi Skyfire's promos...you can never go wrong with just how violently to the point those are!


But Landerson's...what a complete and total waste of airtime?

{Ryo then leans back and glances at the camera with a shrug}

Ryo: I honestly don't know what he's expecting me to do with such a fucking piece of shit promo like that. Is he expecting me to be all intimidated by his lack of feeling, I mean I did put the worthless nugget through a table at the last pay per view after all.


Or maybe I'm supposed to take offense at how little he sees me as an opponent, to which I can simply shrug and move on because...and let's be honest here...I've had a hell of lot better just fucking call me a waste of space in a particular match. 


Is *that* what you're trying to say, Landerson? 


Are you saying that "just got lucky" in our last match against each other and that my "luck" won't work during the blindfold match at Harlem Heat?


Landerson, are you going to just call it luck when I rip that shitty little mask off of your head and then use it as a condom to skull fuck you through your left eye at Harlem Heat when everything is said and done?


No...that won't be "luck"...that will be "proof".

{Ryo's head slowly start to roll to the right, a twisted yet goofy smile crossing his face as he does so, but when he speaks-it's oh so calm}

Ryo: You're not going to defeat me at Harlem Heat, Landerson, because it is very obvious from just this piss poor attempt at a promo that you cut that you really don't care about even *being* here. Little shits who just join the company don't get to start at the top and challenge for the big boys belts like what Stephanie Matsuda, Aria Jaxon, Jeff X, and the others get to do.


No, little *NUGGETS* of useless *SHIT* like you get to start at the bottom....where you *belong*.


I *beat* you.


Then they *give* you to me in a silly little match.


They *DON'T* want you, Lando. 


You see, Lando, if they cared about you then they would've put you in a match against say...Titan or Matt Miles, maybe even a rematch against Monster Truck. If they cared about you, then maybe they would've put you over in Omega Wrestling Tomorrow...


You know, where you could learn how to cut a fucking proper *promo* then that Tide Pod Commercial piece of shit that you left me with, hrm?

{Ryo's head rolls up into a position of proper posture as he leans forward, that familiar look of quiet rage slowly starting to settle into him}

Ryo: But of course I'm going to focus on your promo for my promo, Lando my little shit-nugget. You won't survive a simple blind-fucking-fold match because you're refusing to take anything serious. 


I mean this Olympus event is being held in MADISON FUCKING SQUARE GODDAMNED *GARDEN* AND YOU, THE LITTLE FUCK-NUGGET OF WORTHLESS *SHIT* THAT YOU ARE, COULDN'T FIND IT WORTH MORE THAN LESS TWO GOD *DAMNED* MINUTES TO BREATHE OUT THAT FUCKING EXCUSE FOR A PROMO!!!


You're also *NOT* going to be challenging for a title, no the only thing that's going to happen is you're going to listen your child weep at your very approach while your wife cries out "Dear God! What is that THING?!" in your perfect ears because at Harlem Heat, I'm going to rip that mask from your malformed skull and then I'm going to choke you with it, I'm going to choke you with it as I pluck your eyes from their very sockets so that your daughter can behold what true tears of suffering look like.


I will rip your lying tongue asunder from your very throat as you gasp for each and every single breath of crisp, clean air before I present it as your final token of *love* to you soon to be *WIDOW*!!


And why, *WHY* oh fucking *why* would say such things...let alone *think* these horrible, despicable things do you ask, Lando? 

{Ryo leans forward at the camera}

Ryo: Because my dear fuck-nugget, that is who *I* am.


I'm the guy that right when you think that you've got all of the fucking answers and that you can start resting on your non-existant fucking laurels...surprise *MOTHERFUCKER*!! You didn't think I knew you were coming right? Because I'll have my finger on that trigger, ready to blow your fucking shit-pot skull of your's all over Madison Square Garden because that's who I *am*, Lando.


But you see I am so DISAPPOINTED! You showed so much PROMISE Lando, so much FUCKING PROMISE. Now here you are, trapped like a fucking rat between the huge fucking boulder that is your worthless "EGO"....and *me*.


Ryo Sakazaki.


You can rip off that saying about "Six One Nine" all that you want, you can brag about working for that fucking dumpster fire of a promotion up in the Northeast all that you want...boast about how you went the rope a dope with Provencal and Eric Havoc once upon a lifetime even, it simply won't fucking matter because I'll still be the same person.


RYO...fuckin....*SAKAZAKI*.


And will still be the one that will walk out of MSG with my hand held high over your broken doll like body, your blood dripping from my fingers because I'll have that last laugh, Lando, I will *always* have that last laugh and there's not a goddamned thing that you can do about it!!

{Ryo suddenly shoots to his feet and throws his arms out wide}

Ryo: Take me into your heart. Accept me as your savior.

{Ryo then throws himself down onto the ground before he slithers back up into a crouch, nothing but pure heart and fury swirling around in those dark eyes of his}

Ryo: Nail me to the *fucking* cross and let me be REBORN! 

{Ryo then points at the camera, the tip of his finger making tapping noises as he does so}

Ryo: Understand this though, Lando, my little nugget boy...you're not even a challenge in my book. You're not even *worth* the full frontal force of my fury because that would imply that you're worth two shits in my book...but as you've already shown me, that's not the case.


The last time, when I told you that it's time for you to go "splat"...that wasn't a joke or me teasing, Lando.


At Harlem Heat, right there in front of your wife and daughter....


*SPLAT*!!!


Deal with your future reality, one where your dreams of trying to go for a title shan't happen because you'll be so much shit to be scrapped off of the mat...

{Ryo's face once more takes on that rather twisted smile}

Ryo: ....after you go *SPLAT*...


See you in New York, bitch.

{The screen fades to black}

 
(The camera opens up inside a living room, modeled to look like it’s straight out of a 1950s sitcom. The only colors are just black, white, and different shades of gray and brown. The camera centers the shot on the wooden 1950s 19-inch television, which flicks on by itself as the camera zooms into the screen, transitioning into it. A very white-sounding narrator begins to speak over a trailer of what appears to be a 50s sitcom, everything now in full black & white. The footage appears to center on a girl that closely resembles Dulce Torres, complete with her ring attire on. The actress runs around outside in a white upper middle-class neighborhood, looking very frightened and confused, while a narrator begins speaking.)
 
Narrator: On Saturday night, see the former Odyssey Goddesses and Women’s World Champion as you’ve never seen her before…
 
(At that moment, a loud shriek fills the air, as the light black & white sky quickly darkens. The actress looks around, nervous… not noticing The Banshee emerging from behind her, rising up out of the ground it seems! As “Dulce” turns around, The Banshee grabs her by the throat, choke-slamming her directly onto a sharp white picket-fence. Dark, gooey liquid shoots out from the holes it created in “Dulce’s” chest, as the narrator continues to speak.)
 
Narrator: … SIX! FEET! UNDER! Tune in to Odyssey this Saturday night for an all-new episode of Banshee Knows Best, and witness the fall of Odyssey’s oldest and most overrated “Pillar!”
 
(The screen transitions to black & white static for a moment, a new program quickly taking over the static feed, showing only a hypnotic spiral slowly turning clockwise, the familiar notes of the theme from The Twilight Zone beginning to play over the audio. A few seconds later, a voice that sounds eerily similar to Twilight Zone series creator Rod Serling begins to narrate, as random objects populate the background. A large door appears right as the narrator’s script begins, opening up to random clips playing of The Banshee’s various matches and segments.)
 
Narrator: You, the audience, have the unique opportunity to unlock this door, using only the key of imagination… Beyond it is another dimension - a dimension of sound, a dimension of sight, a dimension of mind… but also a dimension of evil and malice, a never-ending landscape of terror, grief, and death… You're moving into a land of both shadow and substance, of ringwraiths and wickedness... You've just crossed over into… The Banshee’s Realm.
 
(The screen then cuts to inside a retro 1950s-era diner, the black & white folding into bright colors. The white walls are decorated with various pictures of cemeteries, tombstones, and face shots of Dulce Torres. A large, pink neon sign that spells out “Dulce’s” in cursive hangs about the counter, itself populated with red barstool chairs connected to the floor. A neon blue-and-red jukebox sits off to the right. The Banshee emerges from behind the counter, accompanied by pillows of purple smoke. She walks over to the jukebox, looking at the song catalog for a moment before dropping a dime into the machine. The 1956 song “I Put a Spell on You” by Screamin’ Jay Hawkins begins to play, while The Banshee walks along the checkerboard floor, staring right into the camera.)
 
The Banshee: In times of doubt, people try to find comfort in their faith, turning to ridiculous writings, sayings, proverbs… such childish ideas, but there’s one saying that even I can admire... Some folks say a dream takes only a second or so… and yet, in that second, a person can live an entire lifetime… I think I can agree with that, so long as the opposite also remains true: like dreams, it only takes a mere moment to conjure up a nightmare, and in that moment… even one second can FEEL like an ETERNITY OF TORTURE!
 
But am I speaking about my pain? That’s what the collective tongue-wagging internet trolls writing in their dirt sheets are saying… talking about how The Banshee, in a match suited to my interests… aborted her biggest opportunity yet at Hardcore Havoc… exiting via a quick elimination from Matsuda that no one saw coming… not even me… but that’s where the narrative begins mixing up fact with fiction, because the fact of the matter is this: yes, The Banshee didn’t leave London the new champion… but MY GOALS… were STILL SUCCESSFUL!!! I will discuss those “goals” at another time, because The Banshee’s plan to become champion is still very much on the right path… after all, Jonetta Stone NO LONGER has the title… Jonetta, I warned you to beware … THE CURSE OF THE BANSHEE! Without me cursing you, Jonetta, there’s no way in Hell that Revy drives the final nail in your coffin… Oh, and you’re welcome, Revy... now leave me the fuck alone, before I send you to Hell, where you can burn right next to your pathetic brother! 
 
The Curse of the Banshee… it's not just the cruelest and most devastating finisher in OWA history... a finisher that requires so much energy just to execute it… it’s a living… breathing… awe-inspiring force of darkness, one that I’ve unleashed upon Odyssey… and no one is safe… Especially you, Dulce Torres!
 
(The Banshee angrily begins punching out the jukebox, striking it several times without even a grimace of pain showing on her face, destroying the sophisticated 1950s replica machine in a blind rage. She then screams loudly, shattering the glass windows and cups as the piercing shriek reaches higher and higher pitches. The pictures of Dulce begin to “cry blood,” as streams of blood appear to seep out of her non-blinking eyes. The Banshee then turns back to the camera, rage burning in her eyes.)
 
Do you remember the last time we crossed paths, Dulce? It was at Clash of the Titans… the final three! The Queen of the Monsters, you, “Sweet Towers,” and that forgotten fossil Diantha Rosso… the details might be hazy for you, especially after Gwen Harper skinned your skinny ass alive… but it was YOU, BITCH, THAT ELIMINATED The Banshee from the Clash… no doubt with some “divine assistance” from the front office…
 
However, that’s NOT the moment The Banshee reflects on the most when thinking about you, Dulce… oh no… we have to go back much further than that… back to the summer of 2020… But first, let’s touch on our reflections… The Banshee noticed you were recently reflecting… or more like crying… about missing your old friend and rival Diantha… and now, you get to step into the ring with the monster that DESTROYED THE LIONESS… I feasted on her soul, and even went back for thirds, just like you gluttonous Americans do every Thanksgiving!
 
But back to that fateful Atlantis on July 17^th, 2020… Meltdown… Dulce Torres versus Morrighan McDonnell… Yes, you fought Morrighan… AND ONLY MORRIGHAN! Why does everybody in this fucking company continue to fuck up this one fact, one that a retarded blind infant could easily see… THE BANSHEE AND MORRIGHAN MCDONNELL ARE NOT THE SAME ENTITIES! We were SEPARATE BEINGS that SHARED the same corporal vehicle… This banged-up body of some poor Irish-born, potato-munching streetfighter that dreamed of becoming a wrestling hero... may have originally belonged to Morrighan once… But I don’t like to share things, which is why I took over this body completely… Anyways, I digress… Dulce, you BARELY managed to make Morrighan tap out, but that’s NOT the moment I’m reflecting on… it’s after the match ends, where you met ME for the first time… after you fell to the Cry of The Banshee! That night, while Morrighan grew weaker… (chuckles) I grew stronger… and it’s ALL THANKS TO YOU, DULCE!
 
(The Banshee laughs for a moment, then sits up on the counter, grabbing the one glass that isn’t broken, helping herself to a milkshake… that appears to be made up of blood... A bloodshake!)
 
I’m sure you’re full of questions, but I don’t think you deserve the answers quite yet… because you have a moral dilemma ahead of yourself… Look at all the past opponents I’ve decimated, and look at the one common thread… There’s only one true way to stop me… to overcome The Banshee… you must… BECOME THE BANSHEE!
 
Yes, this sounds familiar, doesn’t it? That’s because you’re not the first “Pillar of Odyssey” to hear this very sentiment… why don’t you ask Diantha about… ooooh, still too soon? Did it break your heart when I devoured the soul of your BFF? You could always give Azumi Goto a call, she’s over on Kingdom now… imagine that… a true Hall of Fame Legend, one that’s properly “earned” the label of being a “Pillar of Odyssey,” chased off the very brand that she helped make famous… by the one true Queen of the Monsters! Azumi couldn’t become the “monster” she needed to be… which led to her predictable failure, setting up the same blueprint for you!
 
Dulce, I’m sure you’ll make an argument that you’ve “walked in darkness before” or that “you’ve been recently pushed beyond your moral limits,” so just shut your sweet fucking mouth up, act like the “Silent Goddess” you laughably claim to be, and save yourself the eventual embarrassment… because we both know that you’re NO WAY PREPARED to meet me on my morality level!
 
Your moral compass won’t let you even sneak a peek into my world, so instead… you’re going to come at me with some cookie-cutter hero response, right? If I were to easily guess your reply, it’s because you’re “above evil” or something generic like that… The only things you should be "peeking" for this Saturday night? Misery… pain… woe… agony… TORMENT!
 
If there’s one thing I’ve become a slave to, it’s spilling my opponent’s blood… using the most painful methods possible! If spilling blood through torment was a drug, then I’d easily be a junkie “poster child,” because when it comes to making you scream, Dulce… I’m definitely more than an “enthusiast… I’m a goddamn ADDICT, and on Odyssey, The Banshee is going on a bender… in full excess… until I fucking overdose on your anguish and suffering, and even then, I’ll keep going harder than Juice WRLD on a plane with a bottle of Percocet, or Amy Winehouse locked inside… a wine house! The point is, Dulce… there’s no magic can of Narcan, no helpful twelve-step program… there’s ABSOLUTELY NOTHING that will stop me from flaying your fucking skin off!
 
(The Banshee suddenly grabs a framed photo of a "blood-crying Dulce," punching through the glass and frame, subsequently ripping the photo up into shreds, droplets of blood strangely leaping out from the paper everywhere.)
 
I HATE YOU SO FUCKING MUCH, ALMOST AS MUCH AS I HATE ALYSSA GRACE! So say your grace, your prayers, whatever bullshit spiritualism you like to practice… because it’s not going to fucking matter! When you step into the ring with the Wraith of the Ring… you are truly… ALONE! God doesn’t exist in my ring… Buddha… Zeus… Joseph Smith… Santa Claus… call on whoever you want… NO ONE IS GOING TO SAVE YOU! Devout idiots like you and your fans, Dulce… you expect to have your good faith “rewarded” when you need the help, blindly putting your trust into a fictional character… but on Odyssey, when it comes to your religious zeal… I wonder how long it’ll take before The Banshee makes you a “non-believer” once I grow bored of… PUNISHING YOUR FAITH! Pain is your only reward for blind servitude…
 
The one thing that has no place in religion is an existential truism… like knowing that we’re all "destined to die" someday… Dulce, your day of destiny is less than a week away… but here’s one undeniable existential truism: you’re no “pillar,” just some overrated El Paso garbage that I’m personally going to enjoy crucifying in that ring… Can Odyssey’s “Beacon of Hope” truly stand up to the malicious might of the PUNISHER OF FAITH!?! You may have touched darkness before, but if you hope to defeat me… you must WALK THROUGH AND BECOME IT! HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!

Live at the O.M.N.I. Goodie Mob wrote:

One Million Niggas Inside...
You can’t break me even though you try
One Million Niggas Inside...
Even though you hit me with everything you got
One Million Niggas Inside...
I still found truth even though you lied

I heard word on the street is that the whites think the Bad Boy Scenario are about to lose the tag team championships. What else is new, they didn’t have the vision to foresee us having all this gold in the first place. But can I ask who is supposed to stop me? Let alone us?!

Nami? This ain’t no anime, that lil girl can’t do shit to me. Even though she’s Japanese and would usually escape my hatred, she seems to help Devi in a war against the women of colour led Dorado Enterprises so she’ll suffer along with her white masters.

Devi Krysis? They call this dumb bitch a big bad bloodwolf. Please. She’s just a little snow bunny that does me a favour of letting me know Damian E. McArthur is a coon to the brotherhood.

Jeff X? Who gave him the right to use the last name X? That’s supposed to be reserved for iconic leaders in history. Even that bald brainwashing professor in his wheelchair in cartoons had to be a leader of great note for a whole race of people with that letter. This boy Jeff led men into a great war, and the only person to die in it was one of his homeboys not coming home alive. Let alone Arata Asakura’s eventual rebellion. So I refuse to acknowledge his X going forward.

And Christopher Sabertooth? Man, me and the man with the white devil inside go way back, and he should be the reason you people shouldn’t doubt me in the first place. Why our successful defence should be no surprise! But I’ll get to him later.

The only surprise is that this is some sort of festival.

What OWA know about a festival? You think any of their higher-ups have even been to a Caribana? You think they’ve been to any of the grand carnivals in Brazil? Or even Mexico? Nah, man, they don’t know culture. That’s why a monster for the culture like me was never the big man they wanted to be the face of their beasts. They wanted a monster that fit their Monolith of white men. They even pulled out a red carpet for that homeless giant ginger, not realizing it was quite literal that a soulless man would never make anywhere his home, let alone make his home this company. But who is the big man people keep calling to when they need muscle? Be it the Phantom Troupe, Claudia Michaels, Nico and Jesus, Akatsuki, or the Bad Boy brand, they come for the most versatile crusher in the business! Now OWA has to accept it, and things are as they should have been when I debuted facing the TV Champion. Maggall comes in and wins his belts straight away! Now I come back, and after one match I’m a double champion! Now we are running this tag division as free as those three white birds used to!

For all y’all know, we might have a reign that’ll outlast that Dollhouse of yours here in OWA. Nobi and I are the ones headed to Kingdom to make sure you Know what’s up. Together we’re way over 500 pounds of destructive force, and we’re going to enjoy this beat down. We must be repping Olympus based on the set-up of this match, but we won’t be doing this for the brand headed by some graham cracker. We gonna do this for the culture. Arata Asakura already got the whites down bad on Kingdom, just like sister Stephanie Matsuda does on Odyssey, so we going to make sure ya’ll remember to stay down until Bad Boy Know does the same on Olympus, so all OWA is fixed. Don’t you see how Allah works? I came and called out the row of white champions, and at Hardcore Havoc a bunch of us came in to correct the error, Nobi, and I aren’t about to let that work be reversed so soon.

I may have my doubts over how OWA will run a festival, but Nobi and I are fine bringing the instruments that’ll make this grand party a show to be remembered! Our fists are the drumsticks that’ll batter the competition and give the people something to dance at following the beat of crunching bones. We’ll bring the soul that makes this much more than a white western affair. This tag division has force-fed the people bland slop for so long that when we sandwich these teams together with slams and pepper them with blows that’ll bring out the flavour and colour of their red blood, they’ll think Nobi and I are their gods. People can even stand back amazed at the festival floats we’ll have stood tall over the competition. You know Nobi, and I already tower over the rest of these teams, and that’s before we’ll have that splattered all across the ring.

Now I don’t know how having a two PPV losing streak earned you two a title match, but I’ll start with you ladies first. Devi and Nami. I know some people confuse my faith to be one against women, but in truth, it reveres and protects them. Look at what happens when you don’t follow our traditions? You wrestling me is the greatest sign of the problem with western women culture! First, you allow yourselves to show your skin and be leered at by perverts, and then next thing you know you’re somehow under 200 pounds and wrestling men in the high 200s and low 300s. Instead of helping build a home for the future generation of children and feeding your families, you’re gonna be getting your ass beat against forces you have never had a chance against. But you both only have yourselves to blame. Especially you Nami, you should have been focused on helping Serena Bennett instead of letting that filthy white whore beat you all in an Ultimate XXX match. You two have angered me and Allah. Thus you must take your lashes and punishment. That ring isn’t large enough for you to run away. I’ll have you two flying and twirling through the air more than the cheerleaders you should have been instead of being wrestlers. And you know what the worst thing about it is? You’ll find out no one will even be mad about it. The west is that lost. These perverts are going to enjoy watching you get hurt.

As for Jeff and Christopher Sabertooth, this has to be a joke. Everyone knows whites and their problems with coordination, and that’s even when they get along. You mean to tell me I should worry about these two former arch-nemeses somehow pulling it together and being a cohesive tag team? Christopher was the one that put OWA in a situation where Jeff’s homeboy got murked, and you mean to tell me people buy into this team? Please, they’re both selfish psychopaths. In fact, I was already going to call them selfish, yet it’s my boy Nobi who made me realize this is all about them becoming triple crown champions. I can’t believe I didn’t realize that on my own, but it goes to show the importance of working together. But there’s more. Jeff puts people in his “Frontline” so they’re the ones that get hurt while he hangs back like a little snake and tries to look cool while people shower him with awards for being an unapologetic drunk. But messing with Nobi and I, Jeff will have to beg forgiveness on a future Kingdom for getting punch drunk by our hands.

I don’t care how many world championships they have between them, that doesn’t make them a legitimate tag team that knows how to work together. Nobi and I are cultured. We grew up with natural and trained rhythm; we can keep on beat with one another in a way that Jeff and Sabertooth never will. We even came out to speak back to back on cue. We aren’t fooled by how much hype these two get. This is just a last-ditch effort from the OWA machine to collect the top prototypes of wrestlers it wants on top to come to re-establish the status quo the Dynasty had kept up so well before them. Once again, OWA chooses wrong! The past is gone for good. We’re coming into the house of Arata Asakura, not Jeff’s, not Sabertooth’s, and I think people should be happy about that. When you think of these two leading a division, team, or anything you can think of, you should be concerned about who they are about to sacrifice. The people should thank Nobi and I, sure we might send white bodies to the ICU, but at least they get to one day go home to tell their children to never mess with us. Kenny Drake will never have that chance after the chaos these two men caused. Jeff’s Frontline didn’t work out because he couldn’t keep Arata under his heel. It just shows that whenever these two try doing teamwork, it never goes well for anyone, including themselves.

I’m not done with you either, Sabertooth. I’m sure you remember me. Even if the people forget. I’m the one who on his debut ended your singles winning streak in OWA. I’m the one who not only didn’t become a champion after beating the TV Champion on TV, but also the one who didn’t even get a TV title shot from you afterwards. That’s when I knew the fucked up world that benefits whites would be no different in OWA. They protected you, coddled you because they wanted to build you up to be their future hero. I was the only one who saw the white devil inside back then, only I knew you were a coward and a menace. Ironically, OWA protecting you from me eventually led you to create the situation where OWA lost one of its greatest white heroes. Now you’re on this redemption path, and I’m sure one day the people will forgive you and believe you’re an alright guy because Havoc is gone. But not me, I knew you were and still are scum. I know you deserve this beating you’ll have ready for you at the festival. I don’t care who you are and what you got, people think you and Jeff will win, but they also thought nobody could ever end your streak until I showed up. I’ll always be the one person that ends your brighter days. Be you undefeated, be you a champion, be you the real white devil, be you the last “real” wrestler alive, or even be you redeemed in the eyes of these idiots, nothing will ever stop me from picking your small frail body up and pummelling you into the dirt you are.

White devil, not Havoc; I’m the one million nightmares that keep you up at night. You couldn’t break me, even though you tried. I still found gold in OWA to prove I was championship material, even though you running away with your strap once lied.

Now you all know why I chose to join The Bad Boy Collective. All the gamblers, all the haters, all the fans, the media circus, gossip sites, you name it all, questioning me why I chose to join Bad Boy Know and Maggal.

Well because of this. Because The Bad Boy Collective are the winners. First appearance and we won the Tag Team Championships and Prestige Championship right away.

And we are willing to defend our Tag Team Championship as soon as possible because we're fighters. We fight anyone and everyone and we are willing to make a visit to the Kingdom to defend our championships.

I said it, The BBC do fight anyone and everyone. The BBC believes in equality against anyone and everyone because look at our opponents. The two teams that are challenging Maggall and myself. We're defending our titles against two crackers and two street hoes respectively.

I don't mind why both teams are joining forces because they want to represent their heritages and their kinds respectively but again, look at me and Magall. We are completely two different outside, but this is why we are the superior team and let's not forget, and this is why we are the tag team champions. We make it multicultural.

Well, I don't mean to say all of that to underestimate any of our challengers, especially to someone like Slapjack Sabbertooth who has won countless championship and countless promotions and now I'm going to say it that Sabertooth is my boy in Wrestleworld as we both are in The World's Finest together and even maybe I could say Sabertooth is like my Cousin but let's state the obvious that this is OWA and not Wrestleworld, so now I see him as an enemy. No hard feelings, Slapjack, because after all, you want to challenge for this belt and try to form an alliance with one of your enemies. I get it from your perspective. Both you and Jeff only need the OWA Tag Team Championship to be the OWA Triple Crown Champions and quite frankly, I would love for it to happen if I wasn't a Tag Team Champion right now but why when I'm carrying this Championship, Sabertooth? What? You don't want me to be a Champion in OWA? Sure, you supported me to be the WW American Dream Champion but why are you challenging me when I'm carrying this belt? I know being a Champion is always your thing because you're that damn good but it seems to me you don't want me to be an OWA Champion at all. Again, based on your words on how you said "BBC feels good about themselves and BBC feels good for being confident". So somehow if me….particularly BBC feeling confidence is not a good thing? Isn't that how you always feel, Sabertooth? You always feel confident and full of yourself and I never had any problem with it even when you were hiding your autistic face behind your face paint to terrorize OWA and yet, somehow you do when I feel that way? Why? Well, it doesn't matter anyway because you're a jackass, Sabertooth. I don't really believe that you have good intentions by wanting to stop BBC. I mean, what have we done anyway? All we did was just beat The Dynasty to win the Tag Team Championships, so why are you acting like the BBC is some kind of a dangerous group? Well don't bother to answer that, Sabe. It's because the BBC are that great. You're that damn good but we're that damn great. As good as you are as a single wrestler, you still have a lot to learn as a tag team wrestler and that is the area where I'm better than you.

Moving on to Jeff X. I have a history with him. Not just a history but apparently our only one on one encounter led us to the SSW Fuckery Match of The Year award. Good spot….but it wasn't a happy ending to me. I lost that match. Jeff was able to retain both of his SSW Championships and I failed to beat him. I mean, I had and probably still have no hard feelings for Jeff X. He did what he had to do to retain his Championships against me and as he pointed out before our match began that night and maybe just to be specific, I'd like to consider Jeff X as my Older Brother but you know….sometimes Brothers or siblings fight and this is no different. But just like what Jeff did to me in SSW, now I'm going to do whatever it takes to retain my OWA Tag Team Championship against the team of him and Sabertooth, as well as the team of Nami and Devi Krysis. Well, let me back to Jeff first. I was watching the conversation between you and Sabertooth on the last Kingdom and I have to say that I'm surprised that you're in this match as Sabertooth's partner. Well, either way, you are here and I'm not going to let you and Sabertooth beat me and Maggall that easily. You just had a long reign as a World Champion and now it's my time to do it once again as one half of the Tag Team Champions. Besides, you clearly still have a hatred towards Sabertooth, so I suggest you take care of your emotions first, because otherwise, you're just wasting your time, Jeff. That makes me wonder. Why didn't you pick a Frontline member to team up with you if you really want to try to be a tag team Champ instead? You are not thinking clearly. Your emotions are clouding your mind and for a World Champion like yourself, it's not a good thing. Try to control your heart and do bring the best version of Jeff X because while this is still a triple threat tag team match, I want to beat you on your best days…. or beat you on your worst days. Up to you but either way, you're doomed.

Now let me address Devi Krysis. I appreciate it that you call me the great Nobi because I think accolades wise, Jeff X and Christopher Sabbertooth have accomplished a lot more than I do. And I do understand why you want to win the Tag Team Championships with NAMI. You want to do it for your former partner, Azzurine Vebbins. That is such a sweet thing and I wish so bad you could do it but I don't want it to be at my expense. Not on my watch. And the reason why Maggall is my partner is because Magall is a great wrestler. He is a former TV Champion and now he is the Prestige Champion. He is great and why wouldn't I want to team up with him? He's cool.

And last but not least, NAMI. I appreciate your spirits and such but it's quite funny when you say I betrayed America or how I should learn how to accept my failures. First off, I'm still an Indonesian through and through and second, I have countless failures ever since I decided to join this business and the reason why I joined the BBC was not because of a failure at all. My last match where I decided to join the BBC was…..against Bad Boy Know himself. I didn't lie to be The White Knight and I was happy, but they turned on me as soon as I joined the Collective. It's fine. I'm happy to be a part of it anyway. And let me point out one thing. You said, try to learn to accept my failures. Well I have addressed that but you also pointed out how the SSW locker room went wild when I won the SSW Puroresu World Heavyweight Championship. I have tasted some great success as you mentioned my SSW Puroresu World Heavyweight Championship winning, so what are you talking about by trying to accept my failure? I'm satisfied enough accolades wise but I still can win a lot more to be a lot more successful and you're going to be part of it when the BBC retains our Championships against you and Devi.

Well, I'm going to speak in general that the BBC asks for a fight and we bring the fight to the place people want. Now are you ready for some of these smokes? Because Magall and I are going to cook some hot cooking in this Kingdom: Festival….and who knows if we might end up burning it.

---

Prescott Tower is, as per usual, in full swing as the peasants and workers mill about taking care of all of Remington Ivory Prescott's business. They all seem to be quite content or stressed out or annoyed but not a single person is not doing the job that they have been paid so gloriously to do. They are, after all, professionals.

Speaking of professionals, the most decorated professional in recent business history, the cover star of Self-Made Monthly, the illustrious and luxurious, Remington Ivory Prescott is standing right inside of his office looking as immaculately conceived as ever. Standing behind his pristine desk and talking to some idiot on the phone.

"What kind of diamonds are they? Blood? What the hell is a blood diamond?" Remington Ivory Prescott rolls his eyes in anything but confusion. It's more like annoyance. "Okay, well, are there dead bodies around them now?" Remington Ivory Prescott really shouldn't have to walk these people through this but it is what it is, apparently. "So move the bodies, pick up the diamonds, and get them back here so that I can have them cleaned before I put them in Dollar's collar."

Remington Ivory Prescott might be listening to whoever's on the other end but it's more that he's paying attention to the arrival of Randi Moss in all of her beautiful personal assistantness. She hangs just inside the door while awaiting Remington Ivory Prescott to finish his phone call.

Remington Ivory Prescott finishes his phone call and motions for Randi to come on in.

"Please tell me we made even more money today than yesterday." Remington Ivory Prescott slumps down into his comfortable seat and looks playfully stressed in Randi's direction.

Randi takes her seat in front of the desk. No, seriously, she has her own chair. There are two chairs for randos that might be in this office by chance but Randi's chair is so much more comfortable and expensive than those and she sinks right into it, swiping across the tablet in her hands. "Profits are up by seventy-eight percent, Remington. Thanks to..."

"Me, yes, of course." Remington Ivory Prescott tosses a dismissive wave of his hand at whatever Randi was about to say. "My re-emergence into the limelight has sparked such a grand uptick in PresCorp products that there's really nothing left to be said. I'm amazing at what I do."

Randi rolls her eyes and leans onto the desk in a manner befitting someone close enough to Remington Ivory Prescott to play with him like this. "And what is it that you do?"

Remington Ivory Prescott leans onto the desk from his side and offers a smiling response to such challenging looks. "Pay you to do everything I don't want to do."

"Which is everything." Randi tosses that in.

"And then take the credit for it all." Remington Ivory Prescott leans back, tossing his hands behind his head and everything. "I was born for this."

Randi snorts as she leans back into her seat as well. "Nobody does less than nothing better."

The laughter that comes from both of them tapers off as Remington Ivory Prescott decides to get down to business.

"Besides counting my money, is there anything important on the agenda today?"

Randi peers at her tablet, swiping through to the calendar to have a look. "Don't think so. Not anything you need to be around for. I can handle your morning meetings. I'll sign for your deposits with the bank. Let's see... oh, Anna called. She can't make brunch tomorrow. She has an early call time."

Remington Ivory Prescott rolls his eyes. "Seriously? Ugh. Fine. Tell her I'll come to her after she's done. Prescott Force Two just got new seats, didn't it? We can have dinner."

Randi's taking notes with her tablet pencil, "Anywhere in particular?"

"She can choose. Wherever she picks... buy the restaurant."

"Done and done."

"Anything else I need to worry about?"

"Nope, you're good. Adora's picking you up at Noon. You got some OWA things to finalize."

Remington Ivory Prescott raises an eyebrow. "Do I? You mean I didn't just buy the promotion?" He sounds genuinely confused by this turn of events.

"You tried. Six times. No dice." Randi sounds almost exasperated.

"What's wrong with these people? Don't they like money?"

"They do. They also have it."

"Not as much as me though, right?"

"Nobody has as much money as you." Randi's pretty sure he won't pick up on the placating tone. "Not even Zeus himself."

Remington Ivory Prescott takes this moment to preen. Everybody loves a good preen. Even Randi has to giggle at the antics of Remington Ivory Prescott.

---

Prescott Palace has been flown over to the United States, brick by brick, and put back together without so much as a peep from local authorities. A few dozen palms were likely greased to make this operation happen and it looks like the Prescott Palace is now one of the only castles personally owned as a residence in the United States.

Of course, it belongs to Remington Ivory Prescott.

The car sent for Remington Ivory Prescott pulls up to the front door and within moments Adora Kincaid steps out of the driver's side. Another moment, she's carrying a pair of briefcases. Another moment after that, she's opening the back door of the car to allow for the arrival of Remington Ivory Prescott.

Remington Ivory Prescott steps out of the vehicle and stands tall and proud, looking off in the direction of Prescott Palace as he buttons his suit jacket in a move that he might've acquired from James Bond.

"Ah. Just as I remember it." Remington Ivory Prescott seems to be harkening back to a memory from long ago.

"I should hope so. You were here this morning." Adora cuts that memory lane shit short as she moves towards the front doors to open them up for Remington Ivory Prescott.

"You ruin all of my fun." Remington Ivory Prescott snarks at Adora as he walks past her and into the Buckingham Palace Replica.

"That's what you pay me for." Adora quips back and follows him in.

The interior of Prescott Palace is just as nice as the exterior. There will be a full tour available on the PlusOne streaming service so be sure to sign up today. For now, though, we'll just be following Remington Ivory Prescott and Adora to one of the many rooms in this palace. A room that doesn't have much in it but a wall of mirrors.

"So. What's on the Omega Wrestling Agenda?" Remington Ivory Prescott focused on himself in the mirror while he kicks off this conversation.

Adora sets both of the briefcases on top of a random expensive table. Both of them are facing Remington Ivory Prescott but she only opens one of them. "You're debuting soon. At something called Harlem Heat."

Remington Ivory Prescott blinks. Twice. "Harlem?" Third blink. "Where the crime lives?"

"The one and the same."

"Is Olympus really going to put their greatest signing in history in danger?" Remington is not scared. Honest. Pay no attention to the sweatdrop in the mirrored reflection.

"It's not actually in Harlem. It's happening at Madison Square Garden."

Remington Ivory Prescott looks visibly relieved. "Excellent. Madison Square Garden, hm? Don't I ow--"

"No, you don't own that."

"Yet."

Adora rolls her eyes because sometimes that's all you can do when you're around Remington Ivory Prescott as much as she is.

"Can we put your Monopoly Real Estate dreams aside for a moment? We have to get you ready."

Adora comes around to the front of the table as Remington Ivory Prescott turns away from the mirror. She reaches into the briefcase that's open and carefully scoops up Remington Ivory Prescott's signature scarf. It looks to be in magnificent, freshly cleaned, freshly pressed condition. She holds it up and drapes it around the neck of Remington Ivory Prescott and the two of them share a moment of locked eyes.

"Well? How do I look?" Remington Ivory Prescott breaking the ice over here with his signature smirk.

"Like a magnificent bastard." Adora cracks a smile as she stands back to admire her employer.

"Excellent."

Adora turns away to close the Scarf Case and sets it on the floor.

Remington Ivory Prescott adjusts the scarf a bit before extending a finger in the direction of the only other case in the room, still sitting on the table.

"Is that...?"

"Yup." Adora eyes him. "Wanna' see it?" Adora reaches for the clasps on the briefcase.

Remington Ivory Prescott can't even say anything. Instead, he just nods along as he watches Adora's fingers unlock the briefcase and slowly lift the lid. It damn near glows in a Pulp Fiction kind of way but we get to hang out over Remington Ivory Prescott's shoulder long enough to take a gander inside.

Remington Ivory Prescott manages to hold back a gasp in favor of plastering on a smug grin.

Inside the case? The Kingdom Pro Atlantic Championship Belt.

No, wait. Let's rephrase that.

HIS Kingdom Pro Atlantic Championship Belt.

Adora grins as he watches Remington Ivory Prescott's eyes light up at the sight of the belt. The belt that solidifies his place in the history of Kingdom Pro. A belt that symbolizes everything he fought so hard for during the first years of his career. A belt that signifies Remington Ivory Prescott as an Eternal Champion.

"Congratulations..." Adora grins. "Champ."

---

The scene opens in a restaurant, empty except for three individuals; not counting the camera man. Anyone with enough class, or money, might recognize it as the interior of Masa in Manhattan, one of the very best - and priciest - Japanese establishments in the United States.

Apparently the man enjoying his meal has come to the city a bit in advance of the upcoming Festival show. Perhaps he is here on some unrelated business; or simply arriving early, to enjoy a nice week or two of relaxation and fine food prior to his debut.

Seated at a chair in front of the very prestigious, very in-demand sushi counter is Akamu Bennington. The massive, broad-shouldered beast of a man is dressed in his usual business attire; though at present, his suit has been draped over the back of the seat next to him, sleeves of his white button-up rolled to his elbows, tie loosened. Taking no notice of the camera man approaching him from the side, he seems entirely focused on the stream of fish that continues to be placed in front of him; the work of two dedicated, exceptionally skilled sushi chefs who seem to be struggling to keep up with his near-bottomless appetite.

They appear to be sweating slightly under the strain, well-sharpened blades flashing in the dim light of the restaurant as they work to keep their sole customer happy and fed. It looks like an uphill battle, considering the size and hunger of the man seated alone at the counter. Spread out in front of him, almost end-to-end on the wooden surface, is a line of empty plates; it looks like he's been here for some time.

Resting on a silk handkerchief to one side is a small collection of plain, gold rings and a similarly adorned Rolex watch. He clearly doesn't want to risk getting any food on his expensive accessories.

There is something about the way he moves and devours the food in front of him. A brutishness that seems at odds with his otherwise refined appearance and upscale style of dress. Most noticeably, he leaves the chopsticks to the side, picking up each slice of sashimi with the bare fingers of his right hand and depositing them directly into his mouth.

As if noticing the camera for the first time, he lifts a large glass of bubbling mineral water - San Pellegrino, to be precise - to the camera, offering a slight nod to acknowledge its presence. Taking a few healthy gulps of the fizzing liquid, he swallows with an exaggerated sigh of satisfaction; washing down the latest mouthful of raw fish before he places the glass back on the table. He turns his neck to address the two sushi chefs - slaving away with military precision on a seemingly never-ending pile of seafood - speaking with impeccable Japanese.

Reaching into the side pocket of his black dress pants, Akamu extracts a small, neatly-folded wad of bills. Without counting the money, he calmly places it on the counter in front of him; a small down payment to ensure the speedy return of the two sushi chefs who are responsible for maintaining a steady stream of food into his stomach. The senior of the pair grab the cash and offers the massive patron a nod, before they both shuffle off out of sight. It leaves Bennington with the man from the OWA, who has been tasked to interview one of the company's newest acquisitions.

"You're late," he says to the man filming, his voice admonishing such disrespect; tardiness is an almost unthinkable affront, to the well-dressed Samoan who places a high premium on qualities such as punctuality and professionalism.

"Don't worry. I'll let it slide this time. If anything, you've given me a bit more time to collect my thoughts, and enjoy this fine meal," he gestures at the collection of empty plates taking up the entirety of the sushi bar's wooden counter.

"My apologi-" begins the camera man, before a raised palm from Akamu cuts him off in his tracks.

"First rule: only speak to me if I allow you to talk. I don't want to hear a word from the help."

A bit rich, considering that's precisely what he himself could be viewed as: the 'help' for his mysterious, wealthy benefactor. But the irony is either ignored, or lost on him entirely. Lowering his hand back to the countertop in front of him, he takes a moment to secure his Rolex - and the line of golden rings resting in a line upon the wooden surface - back onto his left wrist and fingers. As he does so, he continues to speak in calm, measured, sophisticated tones.

"I'll discuss my first opponent in a moment; there's something slightly more pressing that deserves a bit of attention first. Namely, the state of the Omega Wrestling Association. As a man who values preparation, I've taken it upon myself to do my share of research on the current balance of power in my new home."

"And what I found was nothing short of a mess."

"A Man with the strength of a God, standing at the pinnacle of the Gold brand, holding the most desired belt within the company. A supreme being, promising to usher in a new era; no matter what the cost in blood might be. Quite the state of affairs, to say the least. A crude, less-refined individual might even call it a 'clusterfuck'. Naturally, I asked myself a simple question: 'who stands to protect the OWA against this invading deity? Who rises to take back the gold from such a potent threat?' Surely such a storied and famous group of wrestlers has a secret weapon, ready to strike back against this man from the Far East."

"One would think so, correct? The reality is far more disappointing, however. Some Irishman who, at six-foot-nothing, barely qualifies as an adult.  A technical wrestler, up against a power that he - in all likelihood - cannot even begin to fathom or understand. Bravery is something that ought to be commended, I suppose; but the foolishness that comes with such hubris is nothing short of laughable."

"Now - and this next bit came as a shock to even me - that is the BEST that the defenders of this organization have to offer. So, to the World Champion, I say: enjoy your reign. If the greatest threat to your dominance is Finnegan Wakefield, I think you'll be at the top of the mountain for quite some time. Or, until I set my sights on the peak, at any rate... then you'll have to step aside, of course."

"But I suppose that's none of my concern yet. Let the rest of these 'warriors' break themselves on the rocks of Arata Asakura; if nothing else, it will be amusing to witness... although I don't envision them making much of a dent. Me? I'll remain focused on the objective that I've been sent here to accomplish; and the first appetizer on my plate is a man by the name of 'Raivo'. The 'Authentic'."

"It's a misunderstood word, 'authentic'. A lot of people assume it means the genuine article, the real thing, a true ORIGINAL. They must not have heard of an 'authentic reproduction'. You see, being authentic doesn't hold any value in and of itself. It doesn't mean you're an originator, Raivo, and it doesn't make you sound as impressive as you likely think it does. Because I've been around long enough to know a copy when I see one. I've been to LA - that cesspool you call a home - enough times to recognize you for what you are. Just another up jumped Californian punk with more arrogance than sense. The way you dress, the way you carry yourself, they tell a story about who you really are: certainly more than your accomplishments ever could. A fake. A phony. An 'authentic' piece of garbage, someone who is a dime a dozen on the streets of Los Angeles. A fool who thinks he has what it takes to make it... when he's really just fooling himself. Not strong enough to face the truth."

"Now, let me tell you how I see it: you don't have the size, you don't have the mentality, and you definitely don't have the home field advantage. I may not be from New York, but my occupation has had me on these streets like it were my second home. You? Some boy from California?"

He shakes his head, a flat expression on his broad Samoan features. Somehow, it makes him look even more intimidating than if he were wearing a scowl or frown.

"Historically speaking, people who come here from the West Coast, talking loud, acting like a clown, flashing their chains and thinking they're slick, well... it doesn't end well for them. At best, they run back home with their tails between their legs. At worst? Well, I'll leave that to your imagination."

"All due respect to the woman - I'm sure she did the best she could with you - but I feel sorry for your mother. It has to hurt her, seeing you like this. Strutting around, nose in the air, pretending you're something you aren't. Tracing the lines of what you think a tough guy should look like. Putting on an act that you cannot possibly maintain when - and where - it counts. Credit where it's due: it was very bold of you to assume that nobody would ever call your bluff. Maybe you thought you'd be fighting other professionals, men who spent their lives training for a wrestling match, or even a bare-knuckle brawl. People who might - similar to yourself - be used to fooling themselves about the true extent of their abilities."

"Unfortunately for you, you're facing a man who isn't from the same sort of sporting background. The place I grew up, smart men didn't run off at the mouth; they waited in silence, until they could show their enemies exactly what they were about. When I was just a kid, even before I made my first mark in the business, I learned that the ones you've got to watch out for were the the quiet ones. The dead-eyed predators who moved in silence, who didn't flash jewels and wear tacky sneakers. See, in the real world - maybe something you don't have much experience in - the ones trying to show off are the first to run when shit gets real."

"You know what? I might have even seen fit to show you a bit of mercy, if our match weren't for a shot at the Spartans Championship. I may not care about belts or accolades, but I do care about reputation. The title itself means nothing to me, just another accessory; but what winning it would say about my ability is valuable enough to make an example of you."

"In that ring, you won't be Raivo; because Raivo isn't worth my time or consideration. You'll be a proxy for Jason Long, or Noah Quinn, or 'Father' Fiora; whoever manages to walk away from the Festival with the championship. And when I lay you out, when I break your spirit and your body, it won't be about my feelings towards you and your pathetic little facade. It'll be an example to the man who I'll end up facing for that belt. A chance for them to see what awaits them when they step into the ring with me... and hopefully, they're wise enough to take notice of the hell I plan on putting you through. A smart man would want to vacate the belt at that point, but I get the feeling intelligence isn't their strong suit; same as you, I suppose."

"I can't predict who wins that three-way bout; even the boys setting the odds in Vegas seem pretty split on that one. But I can predict one thing: you're going to have a little moment of clarity after I'm done with you. Maybe the first you've ever had in your sheltered little existence."

"When you're laying on your back, staring up at the lights, unable to move... I'm going to guess you'll wonder, then, exactly what went wrong in your life. What brought you to such a place, what path did you follow that ended in you being beaten and humiliated in front of a crowd of horrified onlookers?"

"Let's take it one step further, shall we? Let's dig a little deeper. What led you to become the 'man' - and I use the term loosely - you are today? Your father trained you, as I understand it. So I don't doubt your credentials when it comes to throwing hands. Where I'm from, making that mistake is a quick way to end up in a hospital bed, or worse. But it looks to me like fighting is the only thing he bothered to teach you. Your body of work is one thing, Raivo: the way you act outside the ring is a completely different matter."

"The conclusion I've come to is self-evident, as far as I'm concerned. Your old man was so busy teaching you to brawl, he never had the time, inclination or ability to show you how to become a man."

"Likewise, I'm far too occupied with other matters to do what he neglected to do. But, there is one valuable lesson that I'm willing to impart onto you. Specifically, the importance of a man like yourself remaining humble. And this isn't going to be a nice, familial lecture at the dinner table; it's too late for that, your father already failed you in that regard. Now, you'll have to learn the hard way, from a teacher that isn't concerned about your wellbeing... or whatever miniscule future you might be able to eke out in this business. I'm going to beat every last ounce of arrogance out of your over-confident body."

"How many hits to the head, before you forget how to be such a smug little nothing? How many times do I need to drop you onto the mat, until you realize you're not what you pretend to be? Those are just two of the questions that I'm more than happy to answer for you; and you should be glad I'm taking time out of my schedule to teach you. Because no matter how much I hurt you, you're going to come out wiser for it. Every bit of pain I make you feel, every bone I see fit to break on your comparitively puny body, is going to bring you one step closer to accepting the sort of man that you truly are." 

"Average. Able to recognize your real place in the food chain. A boy who has finally grown into a bloodied, brusied man... only after being humbled by your superior."

Pausing to let that sink in for a moment, Bennington lifts the glass to his lips again to sip at the liquid. A man with his reputation and history clearly isn't accustomed to speaking at such length; he generally lets his actions speak for themselves... but it's something he will have to get used to, now that his employer has sent him into this company. His thirst quenched, he places the glass back onto the counter and lifts one index finger to the camera to emphasize his next point.

"However, it's your lucky day; I have one piece of good news for you. I'm a fair man, Raivo. And, fortunately for you, you've yet to offend me. So, here's the deal I am willing to offer you, and I'll only say it once: back out of our match. For the sake of your family who raised you, no matter how poorly they did so. For your friends, who probably have some foolish belief in your potential. For your trainers, who have clearly invested so much in polishing and honing your fledgling skills. And, above all, for yourself. At the end of the day, I truly do believe you could have a long, healthy career on the undercard: sadly, I cannot guarantee the same if you choose to step into the ring with a man who is - unquestionably - your better."

"Now that I've been kind enough to give you an undeserved out, I have my own favor to ask of you. If you're ignorant - or suicidal - enough to show up at Barclays Center on the 21st, make sure you're sporting some of that Gucci, and your nicest chain. After all, it's almost time to do my Christmas shopping; and when I beat you, I think I'll help myself to some of your 'drip'. It's a bit too gaudy and tasteless for me, of course, but it'll make a nice present for a few of the neighborhood kids. 'Baby's first bling', if you want to call it that."

A quick glance is shot at the Rolex on his wrist... and right on schedule, precisely 15 minutes since he sent them away, the two sushi chefs reappear. Without any words, they continue their monumental task of preparing food for the hulking enforcer.

"Just on time. Speaking of time, Raivo, you have until the 21st to come to your senses and hand the number one contender spot to me. It's going to be mine, regardless of what happens, so make it easy on yourself."

"Because at the end of the day, you're just a goldfish... and you should know better than to swim with the sharks."

That said, he waves his hand at the camera; a silent gesture, signalling that he's done with this nonsense. Bennington begins to take his watch and rings back off. Placing them onto the silk handkerchief, he once again prepares to dig into some quality sashimi. After all, schooling the youths in the ways of men is hungry work; and he has the feeling that the lesson he needs to teach Raivo is only just beginning.