GAME START I: IT'S YOUR SHOT


I have a lot to show now that I’m at the eclipse of my career, especially for those who I support and care for the most. That doesn’t mean that it’ll be a kind lesson like the fantasies that some of y’all love reading but trust me, it’ll make sure Mark gets the push he needs to finally make some big things happen in his career. The big theme over the last year for Mark Michaels has been if he’s going to finish his story. However, he’s fallen short a lot of the time unfortunately; I’ve seen him lose time and time again when I know he’s capable of sealing the deal. I’ve been in his situation and trust me, it never gets easier when you know it could’ve been your moment. You have to look at yourself in the mirror the following morning, realizing what could’ve been if you had just pushed yourself just a little bit more when it mattered the most. I’ve beat myself up about it because at the end of the day, it was on me and nobody else. I didn’t have that final boost and that didn’t change until I awoke as the Father you all know and love. But that didn’t happen until I was pushed to my mental and emotional limit; I required humiliation to be fed up with losing all the time. Mark, I feel like you need this type of moment to finish what you want to accomplish. Don’t take anything about what I’m about to say personally but my friend, it’s time for you to learn a lesson from me. I’m going to make you re-evaluate what you’re doing because I want you to freaking succeed in this place and I’m going to do everything in my power to do that. If you truly want to get to the next level, you need to defeat me. Now I’m not going to hand you an easy dub because that’s not the guy that I am. I’m going to beat you silly all over that arena and make you question everything that you’re doing. You can try all you want to take me down and guess what? I’m not going to be pinned or tapped out to you. You can throw your entire arsenal my way and I’ll find a way to swing the momentum my way. I’m a Hall of Famer who will make you even more famous than you currently are, son.

I always viewed tons of potential in you when you were in The Awakening and you have been super successful, but somehow you’re still living in my shadow. You’re the second most successful member of that group and it feels like you’re miles behind. I can see you running but even when I stop, you’re not even close to my legacy. That makes me feel like a failure because I was expecting every single one of you to do great things even after we split up as a group. Eon and Quinn ended up leaving and it was just me and you for a while. I had what may be my final FD match and won in convincing fashion while you ended up disappointing for the millionth time. I was expecting you to finally make that big moment for yourself and man, I turned off the TV after seeing you lose. Since then, I’ve been wondering what’s missing on your end. You have the momentum and the passion to win, but my question is how badly do you want to win? What are you willing to do to end up with that W? In my case, I’d do anything to win, whether people liked that or not; I had the willpower to win. Some people may call that desperation, but I call it not knowing how to lose. I don’t want to know failure again because I know how painful it is; you don’t build a career off losses, you build it off wins. If you were going to retire after our match, what would be your legacy Mark? You’d just be known as a very good loser. I don’t say that disrespectfully, but let’s be honest, nobody would consider you a first ballot Hall of Famer. I was in your shoes 3 years ago before I won the OHC. People just saw me as someone who could be great, but wasn’t recognized until I actually became world champion. If you continue the way you are currently, you will only end up being in the Mid Hall of Fame. Knowing your talent, I can’t accept that at all, and I will go to the lowest lengths to make sure you don’t. If I have to beat you til you hate me, I’ll do it.
Here’s the thing though, I know you can beat me, but do you truly believe you’ll win? You can puff your chest and call this a victory, but I know doubts are flooding your mind. You’re in a weird place right now where you’re questioning your ability to get the job done. You’ve missed the mark where it matters so it is completely possible you mess up again. You know what’s the worst part? If you lose, you will lose my respect and belief in you. I’ve been your friend and supporter this entire time but I’ve told you already to take this seriously and it will absolutely be on you if you don’t beat me. You know me as a competitor and know how insane I can go just to prove a point. The thing that will determine your success or failure is if you’re willing to do more than me to prove yourself. We have not had a lot of matches in our career so think of it this way; this is the last time to prove who truly is the better one between us. We may be friends, but we aren’t in Omega Friends Wrestling; we are here to determine who is the better competitor at the end of the day. I don’t know what match may be my send off, but if this is my last match and you lose to me, you’ll never be able to swallow that loss. You won’t be able to face me again potentially and prove yourself to the world and me. I know you’ve wanted this match for a while, but now that you have it, you cannot disappoint. I don’t have anything to lose if I lose tonight because at the end of the day, I led a Hall of Fame class. My legacy is set and I could literally lose every match for the rest of my career and it’ll remain the same. But like I said before, I’m not about to make this easy for you friend. I’m going to be facing you like I’m in my prime and will throw every single ounce of energy I got. This is my big match this year; yes I was at Final Destination, but as you can already tell, this encounter means a lot to me. This is the opportunity for me to pass on the torch to a man I have all the respect in the world for.

I have a parable for you Mark. There was a man who sought to follow the master’s practices and told him he was willing to. However, he was asked if he would be willing to give up everything to gain salvation. At the end of the day, he couldn’t because he was holding on to what he was comfortable with. This is the very issue that I feel like you have; you don’t want to let go of what’s making you comfortable. You don’t want to tread into unknown waters because you like what’s working right now and think it’s enough to win the world title. At this very moment, we both know that your comfort zone right now and that it hasn’t won you any world titles. I’m going to let you sink or swim and see what your outcome is. I have done my job and given you every single lesson I could think of so you can make your own success. You haven’t followed others but made your own path, but I do think you’re wandering a little bit in this journey. You’re in the middle of a desert, going through your own trials and trying to figure out what will work. If you trust the process and renew yourself, you will awaken a new person. I hold a lot of responsibility in this match to push you until you either make or break. My goal is still to ultimately win but also I’m not gonna face a washed up and insecure Mark Michaels. I don’t just come back for whatever reason; I want this match to be competitive and a treat for every single fan out there. You owe it to them to prove yourself tonight. Consider it your rite of passage to get back in the game. I want you to finish this story, but if you can’t manage to do it, I’ll just have to do it for you. Again, don’t take it disrespectfully but I’m not going to be holding your hand like I was 2 years ago. I’m here to beat you until you get it.

You don’t just have me to fight during Game Start; you have yourself and your personal demons to fight too. Truly this is a handicap match between all of them vs you. Will you get in your head or will you just let it go? You’re the decider now. This is your big moment to fly high or hit rock bottom. The ball is on your side of the court. Will you make the big shot? All I can tell you at this point is good luck and we’ll see what happens.

I believe freedom is often taken for granted.

We get too complacent in our comfort zones to realize how lucky we have it compared to other parts of the planet crumbling to pieces by the second. When I was incarcerated in my youth there wasn’t a day that went by where I missed crossing the days off of my calendar in my pocket-sized miasmic pit of a cell. We were cramped up tighter than a tick’s ass, reeking of putridity, all proclaiming our innocence only to be met with shiny nightsticks thrust into our belly buttons by guards that got their rocks off on belittling prisoners. What was that old Morgan Freeman line?

Prison is no fairytale world.

I couldn’t believe my eyes at first when old timers on their last legs were bawling their eyes dry on their release day. They begged and howled at whoever they could to stay, freedom was a mere anomaly to them. It didn’t make sense to depart from normalcy. The prison was their haven, their ‘freedom’, and the prison was essentially all they knew. Being booted back out into the wild for all intents and purposes would make any man let alone brittle and frail reach his breaking point. The friends they gained during their sentence through the years, and the respect they earned inside the four walls meant more to them than liberation on the outside.

But to me, freedom means exactly what it entails.

Free.

No restraints.

Sometimes you have to proceed with caution when you pick your battles to steer clear of spending a long time behind bars, freedom allows me to make those crucial choices for the betterment of myself and my sanity. Freedom allows me to do anything I set my mind to with no strings attached. It’s the idea; the very concept of freedom that keeps me from digging my own grave and going back into that miserable hellhole. That’s enough incentive for me to value freedom more than most do. If it wasn’t for freedom I wouldn’t be in OWA, I wouldn’t be ruling Olympus under my thumb alongside Laz. If it weren’t for freedom I wouldn’t have such a storied career and none of you would have been able to witness the absolute fucking mutilation of other actual human beings in a competitive setting. OWA allows me free access and essentially open season on the entire roster without repercussions.

And if it means shedding blood and DNA by the bucketfuls then I say let it rain until the soil is red. That's the price of admission. None of you seem to grasp that freedom surrounds you in both small and large quantities. It rears its head more often than not and it has a lasting effect on every one of you ingrates. I wear my freedom like a badge of honor and before you say I’m handcuffed by Belial - I’ve explained relentlessly that we are mutually benefiting as we force Olympus to go into sheer pandemonium and up in fucking flames. Even with Laz, though his quest came up a cunt hair short of making it a reality at Final Destination gets to share the stage. He isn’t ostracized nor is he exiled from The Seventh Ward. There is no bad blood between us. This is a banquet for three and we’re going to fill our stomachs with the despair of the entire roster until we disgorge a beautiful stream of innards all over our fucking plates.

Why do you think Hana Nakajima is clinging to her ‘freedom’ like a fucking dingleberry. It’s clear now more than ever she holds it close to the vest. From being preyed on by Havoc to finally exorcizing and banishing him back to fire and brimstone, freedom was nothing but a pipedream and while she may be free of Havoc, she isn’t free of The Seventh Ward or the mess she left behind. Congratulations Hana you lvl’d up from a demon to a Death God and a King of Rats but the fact is you’re still on mop-up duty, you have blood on your dress and you’re not very honest with yourself. 

You’re a murderer Hana.

Just like Harry Potter is a wizard

Just like Nate Cage has numerous assholes.

You tried to ax that temptress cum dumpster Rebecca Filth. While a shower a week keeps the doctor bleak, Violet, and The Banshee have been stacked up like cordwood in your backyard brush. We don’t care that you’ve killed, we care that you lie to try and distract us; to deploy a smoke screen.

Don’t bullshit us, Hana. We don’t do that here.

It makes you look like a weakling.

Nobody likes a liar.

Especially one who’s claimed she’s turned over a new leaf. You do a piss poor job of covering your tracks and burying your dead. The deceitful runt with the antique doll face pulls the wool over everyone’s eyes on her quest to slay the Tag Team Champions alongside Emmanuelle should be a headline that every wrestling news source would be salivating over. But we know who you are, who you really are, and if I were you? I’d bring that side out of the trenches of your fucking soul with no hesitation. I’d conjure every last ounce of malice you have left in the tank, the same goes for that steely-headed thundercunt Emmanuelle because you’re going to need it. It’s not enough to bring your fresh “I can see clearly now, the rain has gone” hokey new lease on life. It’s time to dig you scrawny bitch. Let me see that nefarious double-horned beast inside of you, the same beast that rained down hell upon Odyssey once upon a time, let me see you spring your fucking spider fangs at me as they glisten with venom before my eyes. The angel with the tilted halo on your shoulder can take a smoke break. You know in your heart of hearts you need that demon backshot fuel from Havoc to compete with us. The Empress on her own accord lacks distinction, she and Emmanuelle have become overlooked and have fallen between the cracks deservedly so. The only reason you two are showcased is due to the open challenge by Laz. It isn’t first come first serve, it’s first to come, first to die.

But no, you wanna adopt the humble, ‘new brand, new me’ mindset going forward. You wanna pretend that everything is okay and you want to blur everything out of focus that you can. The noise, the scrutiny, and your biggest flaw, your tumultuous past while you plug your ears and go lalalala I can’t hear you Darkane! I can’t hear you Laz! 

You can hear us.

You can hear us loud and clear - we’re like a drum beating in your head.

We’re dumping salt on your wounds because you are a festering open wound Hana and you’ve always allowed yourself to be exploited when shit hits the fan. It’s only a matter of time until you break like fine China. The patchwork version of Hana Nakajima we have now is like a fucking raggedy ass racehorse with a broken leg post Kentucky Derby. Completely useless on the track going forward and should be euthanized and hoarded for meat. Emmanuelle can’t save you. Christopher Sabertooth can’t be your knight in shining armor either and if he tries anything we will turn your ass into a grieving mess of a widow. Your first mistake in seeking refuge from this brand was by your very admittance; trying to be friendly, trying not to make sworn enemies like a total chickenshit. Hey dumbfuck, Olympus wasn’t forged by being courteous. Olympus wasn’t forged by walking on eggshells to avoid conflict. Even if you’re not a troublemaker, on this brand? Trouble finds you whether you want it or not. If you want to last on Olympus and keep your head above water you gotta play hardball and grab the bull by the fucking horns. Maybe playing nice is how you conducted yourself on Odyssey but I doubt it when most of the whores over there are like caged felines with standing hairs and arched spines in heat. And if you’re going to reach out for the low hanging fruit and label us as emo, you should take a look in the mirror first. Emo is when you bawl your hollow fucking eyes out once you were eliminated from the Clash by The Banshee. Emo is subsequently waving the white flag and allowing Havoc to storm into your fleshly vessel like a Black Friday store opening extravaganza. Emo is snapping your own husband’s neck like a twig in a fit of jealousy when Thotyssey got him harder than you ever could. But above all else, emo is what you will be when The Seventh Ward rams the steel toe of our boots so far down your fucking gullets our sticky laces will be dangling out of your screaming slits like Christmas ornaments en route to another successful Tag Team Championship defense. 

That is the reality both of you face. 

But I know it’s not one you’re willing to accept without objection.

Defiance is expected, both of you wear it well. And Hana, it isn’t The Seventh Ward who you fear the most, it’s yourself and by extension what you’ve allowed yourself to become before we were even on your radar. Can you trust yourself in dire situations? Can Emmanuelle even trust you? And vice versa? Emmanuelle is perpetually on the rag, she parades around like she’s untouchable even though her shambolic OWA track record speaks for itself and hasn’t left ground level. I expect raw, out-of-touch rookies to make that mistake but not seasoned vets like you Emmanuelle, but intelligence has never been your strong suit. You carry the aura of a mindless meathead who thinks she’s a female Rambo but lacks the qualifications, at least in OWA, to fit the mold. In hindsight, bravado is all you have in your toolbox, and to The Seventh Ward, it’s window dressing. To The Seventh Ward, it’s like a defense mechanism but if we look hard enough, or in this case BEAT her like a rented fucking mule enough she’ll collapse into a fleshmound of wasted potential. You don’t have a fucking clue what you’re doing, do you? One week you’re seeking to avenge that old beatdown shitbox Cadillac Coupe Deville Carlos Rosso on your way to an Immortal Heavyweight Championship match with RIP. Whoopsie. The next you’re floundering in a Clash rumble on Olympus which would have set you up pretty with me AND RIP at Game Over for fucks sake. Then you’re chasing after Edgar Allen Poet’s coattails and his Prestige Championship as a fallback plan. And finally, you pivot on a dime, change your mind once again, and follow Hana’s shadow into the arms of the black forest with your sights set on The Tag Team Championships.

Bitch, you can have some of the pie but as Stephen A Smith said about Zion Williamson you can’t eat the fucking table you ravenous overzealous cunt.

You’re not Darkane. You’re not Arata. You’re not Matsuda or Aria Jaxon. You’re not a gold hoarder in OWA. You had your chance in that clusterfuck American Dream Championship match to at least put your name on the map with your first signature now OWA championship pawned off the dead hands of Wrestleworld, but you royally screwed the pooch. You had the aforementioned Clash and you and a host of others lost to a man that I dusted months ago at Final Destination. When you bring up revenge it’s not like you haven’t had opportunities to have said revenge come to fruition.

Now you wanna chase after The Seventh Ward alongside Hana for the Tag Team Championships and eventually for the Immortal Heavyweight Championship? 

Try this on for size.

What you’re going to do is show up to Olympus like a brave soldier with Hana. We want you both to put up a valiant fight. Make us bleed sheets, make it look believable. We’ll even let you have a few close calls. We want to captivate the audience, right? We wanna hear them chanting your names to their heart’s content. Then we’re gonna say alright, alright enough’s enough playtimes over. We’re gonna place a couple rosaries around your neck because we want you to pray. Grab your crosses and pray even if you don’t believe in a higher power because that’s what everyone does before they die.

Laz, you can do what you want with Hana, she’s a bit too flowery for me. The silver whore is mine. 

I’m gonna carve the word Belial like ancient scripture across your protruding chest Emmanuelle, Your body is gonna light up like a fucking grease fire. It will be my goddamn temple. I’m gonna trace my serpentine steel tongue across the nape of your neck until you feel the frigid chill rattle your bones before you are set to be executed. I’m gonna sink my claws into the silver seams in your skull until you have nothing but Darkane on the brain. I’m gonna make you feel uncomfortable, Emmy, in a way that only Darkane can. I’m going to make you ask yourself - why is this so different from the norm; from anything else I’ve ever experienced? I’m going to make you question your journey to Olympus and why you decided to take a detour down an unlit path you just shouldn’t have embarked on.

The worst part of it all? And this one is gonna tug on your heartstrings. So cup your ears and listen closely.

I’m gonna do the unthinkable, the unfathomable.
 
I’m gonna fuck with Emmanuelle.

And why? Why would I do all this, why would we do all this? You’ll both scream at us as your scalps flap in the air like tattered flags rustling in the wind. Because the petite red empress and her platinum ally stopped on their bikes and saw the slumped over caliginous house, overridden with skeletal branches as crows pecked the termites off the wooden rooftops, and vines snaked their way toward the gated entrance. 

You both tilted your heads, looked at each other, and asked - what’s the worst that could happen?

So you set your bikes down, skipped merrily on in, and closed the door with a creek.

And that’s when you got your answer. That’s when you both fucked with The Seventh Ward.

And found the fuck out.

Will this war between the light and the darkness truly find a resolution at Game Over or will the battle in this Triple Threat Match be only another stage in the endless struggle for power in this industry?

I pray for this to be the grand finale the world has been waiting for.

Everyone, I stand before you tonight as not just the man known as Jacob Senn. I stand here as not only the simple man who seeks to redeem his legacy through the destruction of this monster in The Death God I have created or the rise in power and dangerous ability Remington Ivory Prescott has been given inadvertently through my actions and absence on Olympus. I stand here as the symbol of a journey, an odyssey, that has been undertaken on the screen which has transcended the bounds of the wrestling ring and into the hearts and minds of our wrestling fans. On the eve of this monumental battle to be waged at Game Over, it will be a night where I hope to not only write a new chapter in the annals of wrestling history, but it will also be a testament to the resilience of the human spirit to see redemption and reborn glory achieved through the struggles and the tribulations presented on the road to this moment. I’m standing here today to prepare for the one of the most defining battles inside of the ring of my career, a Triple Threat match for the championship to symbolize immortality in this industry in the form of the Immortal Heavyweight Championship, I am reminded of the long and arduous path leading us to this moment. As you know, as much as I crave and desire the Immortal Heavyweight Championship to return home to me and rest upon my shoulder, this isn’t about only that championship. This match has the implications and consequences to ripple across the entire world to the point where saying this match is only about the Immortal Heavyweight Championship, it would be a disservice to everyone. This match is about redemption. This match is about power. This match is about control. To me, this match is about reclaiming the legacy I tarnished to be reborn as the wrestler I once was with the richest prize in our industry to be the symbol of this redemption. Each of us in this match stand at the crossroads of our past and future, a choice presented to us on what path we will be taking, and I see every direction on my horizon as we march towards the fateful night of Game Over. In one direction, there lies the shadow of the man I was when I was last Immortal Heavyweight Champion – a man consumed by ego and pride, blinded by ambition and greed, and corrupted entirely into a tyrant of unholy magnificence by the vile entity known as Belial. In the other direction, the path of redemption stands before me, illuminated through the light of revelation to what I had become through Belial and the resolve to amend and reform the legacy I burned away in a bid of power and control. My mind is split between two paths of how to take on the challenge presented before me at Game Over and there is a part of me who sees the easy way out. The simple path of doing everything possible, underhanded tactics and dishonest schemes, all in the name of reclaiming the Immortal Heavyweight Championship. However, this would only force me to slide back into the ways of being corrupted once again by the temptations and promises whispered into my ear from the inviting words of Belial. This would only return The Goetial King to his former throne of prominence and that… that is not what we want to bring into Olympus once again. So, the path that I have decided to walk down in this match with the hope of being the man and legend I once was?

It is the path of honor. It is the path of prestige. It is the path of integrity. It is the path of a guardian.

This road has been anything but smooth sailing on a cruise towards becoming world champion once again like people may want to believe it would be. It’s been a journey marked by the trials and adversity placed before me, an odyssey where each step forward has been a battle within my soul against the demons of my past to place the crown of darkness upon my brow once more and the desire for redemption on my soul for the acts of malicious violence I brought to Olympus. The man who has been christened as The Death God with the power of Belial inside of him in Darkane has not made this path an easy one for me and now with the inclusion of a vengeful and desperate Remington Ivory Prescott to reclaim the championship to stand a pillar of greed once more to Olympus, the formidable adversaries who stand in my path have to be conquered through the brutality and destruction I can summon from this body of mine in order to be Olympus’ guardian from these foul forces who seek to bring cataclysm to this brand.

Darkane — The Death God, our paths have been intertwined in a dance of destiny and destruction even long before the foundation of OWA as a wrestling company itself. Our history throughout this industry is as complex as it is brutal, our battles brought into the realm of legendary status and our rivalry, it has become something which will become lore for the world to look back upon with either trepidation as a tale of caution or excitement as a tale of great heroism. This is our eternal dance to be shared between us, our fate to be brothers locked in battle as Lucifer and Michael from the Biblical apocalypse when the moment arises, and Game Over will be where I hope to end this once and for all. From the ashes of The Dynasty, where we stood as brothers-in-arms to dominate Olympus and claim every ounce of gold we could take as our own, to the moment I allowed ambition and greed cloud my judgment to fracture our brotherhood through my betrayal, to the chaos provided from the door I opened to allow you the opportunity to create with The Seventh Ward alongside Lazarus Arjen, to Final Destination V where you claimed control over Belial’s soulstone due to my arrogance and pride, it has all led to this moment where we stand with you and me. Every single step for the past few years has been with these moments and events to bring us where we are where you stand here as not only transformed into The Death God through the power of Belial’s soulstone, but you stand as the very epitome of the darkness I once embraced as my own and a reminder of the power which one corrupted me to the very core. You have become this twisted and sadistic mirror of the man I had been, the tyrant of destruction and sadism who sat upon the throne of prestige with cruelty in mind, but you need to understand I am no longer that man. I no longer seek the great cataclysm to unfold upon Olympus due to shattered pride and hurt ego, because I see the reflection standing before me of the cost of unchecked power beyond the wildest dreams a mortal could hope for. I understand the price to be paid and though it may seem like you stand as a ruler with no threat to your crown as Immortal Heavyweight Champion, the harsh reality will soon seep into your mind with the revelation of Belial’s might to not be as potent as you hope for it to be. Belial stands as a mere false idol of what true power holds as a former vessel for this corrupting evil, I now know through the fires of redemption and the exodus away from his manipulative whispers of false promises, I recognize the truth and understand the path to be walked to rid the world of Belial once and for all.

For I was once lost in the shadows of pride, the darkness of ego, and the fog of ambition to now become a man emerging from those obstructions into the light of redemption.

Before a certain individual decided to stab you in your chest, you spoke in a way which only brought clarity and solidified my resolve to enter Game Over with the full intention of not only becoming Immortal Heavyweight Champion once again, but to restore my legacy to the prestige it once held in this sport. Your words were dripping with confidence from your proud arrogance since becoming The Death God, believing the fear you have manifested through the soulstone I unfortunately allowed you to control, as you can become another force of terror to transform a championship meant to be a symbol of excellence and honor into a token trophy in your macabre collection. However, The Clash of the Titans and my match with Mercadier de Leon here recently, these have all been moments you should have recognized to be more than simple victories in the ring and earning a title opportunity against you. They both were statements. Each Shadow Step performed, each Weapon X fired, every move and step I made to get to this point, it was to show you I am a man reborn. Tempered by the fires of my past mistakes, strengthened from the scars of the past, I am honed and focused on a singular purpose within this match — to end your reign as Immortal Heavyweight Champion and The Death God of Olympus. Deep down inside of your soul as you watched each step, saw every victory I attained, every reign comes to an end and yours is on the horizon. Every god can be dethroned from his seat of divinity, every death can give way to rebirth, every empire crumbles under the weight of its hubris, and every hero has a chance to rise from the ashes of their own creation. Even with all the power of Belial coursing through your veins to have you believe that you are invincible, you are a god who can bleed. You are a god who can die at the hands of a mortal and be defeated by one brave enough to stand against the violence as the blood flows from both of our brows like a baptism, and to prove even the most daunting reign can end so hope can emerge from the darkest of times.

At Game Over, The Death God will feel the mortality he believed he conquered. Death is inevitable and even its god will learn what it means to meet their end. Even Darkane will be unable to escape his mortality and will know the powers of Belial to reach its limits when we meet.

Remington Ivory Prescott, that was a name which I was not expecting to be uttered or found to be standing across from this early after his descent into Hell, courtesy of The Death God. You have certainly gained a new edge since your travels through the inferno, as if you were Dante Alighieri himself. The sudden appearance on the last episode of Olympus to pierce a crystal dagger into the heart of the Immortal Heavyweight Champion, the act of retribution to make sure he was punished from stripping away the one thing that made you into the man you are today in that championship, it has only brought one thing into this match from you — an unpredictable element you hope to take advantage of. Underneath the new dark exterior you want to present to the world, beneath the guise you have placed upon yourself of being some sort of cutthroat merchant of violence either of us should fear when we enter this match against you, I see through the absurd bullshit you’re putting on. This transformation you have undergone, the descent into the fiery pits of Hell, it’s the mark of a man lost in his own darkness and desperate to cling onto whatever he can find to pull himself out of obscurity. It’s where our paths diverge from ever being in the same realm of one another. While I battled my demons in the case of Belial and look to overcome them when I reclaim the Immortal Heavyweight Championship to restore its tarnished legacy, you’ve embraced your demons to allow them to consume you to the point where stabbing a man in the chest was fine for you. RIP, you have always held the illusion of power in the palm of your hands, but never truly possessed true power to be able to bend the world to your will. You never actually possessed the power to force your desire into reality, scratch and claw your way to the top of the mountain to sit upon a throne of prestige, all through your own sheer will and determination. No, you always had something to fall back on in this world. You leaned on the external resources presented by your own money or through the assistance of Tres Comas Club to allow yourself to be called world champion. You didn’t have your championship reign endure struggle, built upon the skills and talent you possess as a wrestler, on the heart and passion of what a warrior should carry within them to represent the tenets that championship deserves to uphold. Even though you may be the second-longest reigning Immortal Heavyweight Champion, your actions during your reign showed me RIP is not championship material. RIP is cowardice dressed in gold and money. Disregarding my own disrespectful reign as Immortal Heavyweight Champion, I have been world champion before without any of your resources. I’ve been world champion without an entourage of rich millionaires to get me where I wanted. I’ve been world champion when I relied on my own grit, the sweat coming from my brow through the fight I have to deliver to achieve that standard, and when I spilled my own blood in the war to carry that title because I earned it. Even with how you stabbed Darkane with the crystal knife and blindsided him, those actions are not of a man who is confident about his own abilities. Do you want to know what it smells of?

It stinks of desperation, RIP. The stench of a man clawing at the remnants of a crumbling empire of cowardice and greed pervading the air I breathe smothers me when I see you. It reeks of instability, highlights your unworthiness to possess the Immortal Heavyweight Championship, and Game Over will be where the fact you have gone on for so long carrying what doesn’t belong to you will be exposed to the entire world.

Unlike you, I don’t have to utilize subterfuge or resort to underhanded tactics to be able to achieve victory and rise to my station as Olympus’ guardian and one of the best wrestlers in the entire world. I won The Clash of the Titans without any use of these vile tactics you are so commonly known to employ, but through the sheet talent I possess to push me through any obstacle seeking to get in my way. My victory over a champion from another company who believed themselves to be better than me to the point their confidence outweighed their skill? It didn’t change at the end of the night, their face was driven straight into the canvas by the bottom of my boot and I stood victorious at the end of the night. No cheating, no bending of the rules, just a straight-up fight I won. You use wealth to your advantage, you use connections to get you the opportunities you want from this company, but here’s the honest truth you hate to know about yourself when you look into the mirror at night. When it comes down to pure wrestling ability, when it comes to the heart to push yourself past limits that would break the average man, when it comes to the resilience to not allow anything your opponent throws at you to stop you from pushing forward on your quest to achieve what you desire more than anything in the world even if it would mean your career would be over by the end of it, you don’t stand a chance against either Darkane or myself. At Game Over, I’m fighting for the soul of this sport. I’m fighting for the fans who believe in the pure essence of wrestling. I stand inside of the ring not for the sole purpose of personal gain or championship glory, but for the ethos of Olympus and wrestling itself. Darkane and you? You represent the antithesis for the sport. Every second Darkane remains champion and you enter into a ring, the industry weeps and I intend to end its sorrow.

Game Over will be a night where our match will happen and that match, it represents more than a simple Immortal Heavyweight Championship Match. It will be the night where I walk straight into the eye of the storm to bring a conclusion to a war plaguing Olympus for far too long. I stare death in the face as I intend to endure the wrath of The Death God as champion. I look at the chaos and desperation from RIP with the full intention of breaking him to the point of realizing he is in way over his head for this match. I am ready to fight with everything I have inside of my mind, body, and soul. I am not just fighting for a title. I am fighting to redeem and restore my legacy and to prove that the Jacob Senn who stands victorious inside of the ring will be a man reborn and in every sense of the word…

Immortal.

“So…”

“Yeah…”

The silence rang heavily between Cloud and Monica. They sat across from each other in the living room of their home in Minato, Tokyo. It’s been two months since they’ve shared the same space or even had contact. The last time they were around each other, Monica cost Stephanie her ninth world championship and left with the group Stephanie and her World Finest saved her from the first time. Weeks of self-reflection led Matsuda to understand why Monica ‘betrayed’ her: she betrayed her first without realizing it. Mon didn’t confirm her suspicions, but Cloud had a feeling about where this conversation was going to go and its natural conclusion. 

In their six years together, Cloud has never felt this isolated from the woman she’d say ‘I do’ to a year and a half later. Even with the heat on, there was a slight chill in the air. Stephanie didn’t harbor any hatred or ill will toward the woman she vowed to love ‘till death do us part’. That dried out weeks ago. All that was left was guilt and a deep understanding of how they got here. The two shared a few glances as if having a voiceless conversation. She could tell that Monica knew what she knew, and felt what she felt. Cloud just needed to hear it. She owed her wife that much, at least. 

Monica Vaughan: You’re probably going to say that I shouldn’t have to say sorry, but I’m going to do it anyway…

Stephanie Matsuda: Mon-

Monica Vaughan: I’m sorry. I don’t regret what I did and I’m sure you’ve reached that understanding by now, but that would’ve been your ninth world title win. You would’ve fulfilled the promise you made…’
‘
Stephanie Matsuda: Yeah.

Monica Vaughan: Something you should’ve considered when you retired and made your promise to ME. The start of a new life, a chance to start planning our family, one that YOU said you were ready for!

Stephanie turned away, a feeling of embarrassment washing over her. She wasn’t sure if it was her ego trying to save face.

Stephanie Matsuda: A retirement I had no choice in…

Monica blinked several times, surprised at the sudden mood switch. Maybe she should’ve expected it. While Stephanie wasn’t arrogant, she knew that her wife hated being on the receiving end of a one-sided beatdown.  

Monica Vaughan: You know what? It’s not even that, Stephanie. That’s not the thing that brought me to my breaking point. Don’t get me wrong - I appreciate that you and everyone else rescued me, but Allesandro did make a good point: if you stayed retired, I wouldn’t have been a target in the first place! Our family would’ve been left alone if you didn’t declare war on Tres Comas and every villain in the Olympus rogues gallery! Sure I went along with that cure little reunion with you and Aria, but I didn’t foresee Edward of all people in his Abholos form healing you! And this ‘blessing’ is going to keep you in peak condition for the remainder of your life!? So, when does it end, Steph? How much glory do you need now that you have a cheat code activated? And what’s the price paid for receiving such a ‘blessing?’ You never thought to ask!? You do realize what happens to you also affects your wife, right!? 

Stephanie had no answer. Monica barely knew about Stephanie’s darker days in Wrestleworld where she spent nearly a month imprisoned by the Ghost Organization. She thought Cloud was just lost on the island. She didn’t know about the PTSD that would enable Stephanie to wage war upon them and any organization like them such as Tres Comas. This was the kind of energy that made her a target of the Black Company and the yakuza, leading to that epic street fight that made its way to social media. Stephanie was too far away to be discovered, but the world has witnessed a woman 1 v, countless Japanese gangsters. She’s surprised that Monica didn’t ask about that.

She looked up in her wife’s eyes and saw a woman torn. Monica was fighting back her tears, which contrasted greatly with her makeup and trendy outfit. But what scared Stephanie was that she didn’t seem like the same woman she fell in love with, the same woman she swore to protect when Monica’s sister and fellow wrestler Brody Sparks passed away.

Brody…

The blonde firecracker was the trauma-bond lynchpin that kept them together. Grieving her loss together, celebrating her life together, and honoring her name together. In the early years that kept their love strong, their relationship was Teflon. But after LAW’s Lethal Hearts 3 which honored her legacy to the point a title was named after her - now in OWA’s possession - the progress in their relationship slowed down. Stephanie figured it was because the honeymoon period was over, but it was much more than that.

Stephanie Matsuda: This wrestling shit…used to be so simple. You get in the ring, kick-ass, and if you win enough times, you earn a title shot. Now…it’s more complex.

Monica Vaughan: And that’s what scares me, Steph. Things were never this complex. And its bad enough I have to try and keep up with you and your story!

Stephanie Matsuda: Hmm?

Monica Vaughan: Babe. Don’t play dumb. You know better than I do that the universe has this way of revolving around you. From the people in your life to the enemies that you make, to the friends and allies, sometimes I feel like I’m married to Spiderman than a pro athlete. I’m not getting on you about our open policy because I knew what I was getting into with that and honestly any woman you brought home I liked and some I’m even close to nowadays. There’s just too much going on with you. And you know what? You’ll never be content because you like the rush. You love being in the mix, Stephanie. We never gave our relationship time to breathe because we went from losing Brody to getting married to you focusing on your career! Then you retire, but without consulting with your wife you return almost a year later!  We’re supposed to be a team, Steph. But somewhere along the way, you started thinking about yourself! A part of me does understand, but as long as you’re in the game…I’m going to take a backseat. That’s not fair to me Stephanie, and it’s not fair to you. You don’t deserve someone in the background. You need someone beside you. Someone in the business, someone who understands you as a competitor, and someone who is okay with your spotlight and understands the risks that come with it.  But…

Monica’s lower lip started trembling as she paused. She’s no longer able to fight back the tears in her eyes. What was about to happen would be irreversible. She couldn’t bring herself to say it. It was up to Stephanie to bring this home, to bring Monica’s final words as her partner to life. 

Stephanie Matsuda: But it can’t be you.

Monica Vaughan: E-exactly.

Monica buried her face in her hands, unable to hold it in. Stephanie instinctively pulled her into her arms, as she’d always done, but this would be the last time. She kissed the top of her head, her eyes focused on their wedding picture where they held each other in their arms, staring into each other’s eyes. That moment felt so long ago in another time, another place. Monica did most of the talking, but it was time for Cloud to speak the words that had been buried within, words she didn’t realize were there until now, but needed to be said more than anything else.

Stephanie Matsuda: Part of our marriage was defined by your sister’s loss…and it’s time we moved on from that. You deserve to move on, as do I. More than us…her spirit deserves to be set free. We’ve accomplished our mission. Brody’s name has been immortalized several times over. The OWA Sparks Championship will live on in her name. Now it’s time for us to go on our journey. You deserve to be someone’s most important thing, Monica. I should’ve treated you as such it’s just-

Monica Vaughan: Don’t apologize, sweets. You’re meant to accomplish amazing things, I mean it. I know I used to joke about this, but I do feel like you’re going to save the world one day. You need to be ready for that. I may not be there when it happens, but I’ll be watching. 

Monica sniffled several times and opened her eyes as Stephanie rocked her back and forth slowly. This was a moment in time, a fork in the road where they would go their separate ways. Nothing was going to be the same again.

Barely anything else was said as they held each other for what seemed like hours. They both didn’t want to let go for doing so would mean the end for Stephanie and Monica Matsuda. But, this needed to happen. They deserved something more, something that wasn’t anchored by the past, including Brody and the woman they both gave their heart to, Cailin Dillon. Monica deserved to be her own woman, not just Stepahnie’s wife, and Cloud deserved to have the freedom that she naturally craved. Not just the freedom to do whatever she pleased, but to love and be loved by whoever she wanted. Cloud knew in the deepest part of her soul she wasn’t meant for one person. In some ways, it sounded like a lonely life, but it suited Matsuda’s needs perfectly. 

She doesn’t remember letting go of Monica, but one moment she was holding her, and the next, she was standing above her, her face filled with the dry tears of hers and her soon-to-be ex-wife. 

Stephanie Matsuda: I don’t know how we’re going to do this, but until we do, you can stay here for as long as you need to. I’ll stay across town in my old apartment. Back in the US, you can have the LA home. Hell, anything I own in America is yours. Just allow me to have my space in Japan, including this place when you’re ready. But, we don’t need to rush this, sweets. I’ll follow your lead on this. I…just need my resources here. You understand why, right?

Monica nodded without hesitation.

Stephanie Matsuda: Good. So…I’m going to give you some space. If we stay like this then we’ll never move on. I…I know you don’t want me to apologize, but fuck it I’m going to anyway. I’m sorry I wasn’t what you needed-

Monica Vaughan: But you were Steph. At the time, you were what I needed and more. Now, I need something else. As do you.

Stephanie nodded. The more they reminded each other of this, the easier it got. Her mind…felt more clear. At the end of this month, she had to fight one of her most prized students Ryo Sakazaki at OWA’s Game Over and defend her IIW Women’s World Championship at MGP’s biggest show. She needed time to prepare for these matches, to make it to the other side. She needed to make it to 2024 in one piece. 

Stephanie Matsuda: So…after the holidays…we’ll talk more?

Monica Vaughan: Sure.

As Stephanie headed to the door, Monica was reminded of something.

Monica Vaughan: Cloud?

Stephanie Matsuda: Yeah?

Monica Vaughan: There’s a woman from the Black Company who has her eyes on you. She calls herself Lola. She invited me to a cafe one day and she had her scouts record that fight you had with some yakuza in Kabukicho. That…kind of solidifies where I stand with us, but I feel like it's fair for you to know that she has plans for you. I don’t know what, but meeting her wasn’t a choice for me at the moment. But she gave me her word she had no more use for me. Just just wanted me to let you know that she was the one who sent you the flowers at Rainbow Road.

Stephanie stared at her wife for a moment, soaking everything in.

Stephanie Matsuda: Gotcha. Thanks for the heads up.

Monica Vaughan: Of course…

Without looking back, Stephanie left her condo, leaving her wife inside for one final time.

-----

I didn’t fail you.

That was something I had to come to terms with before even thinking about what I wanted to say. For the past couple of months, I guilt-tripped myself into thinking that I lead you down this road of darkness. I was convinced that involving you in my business is what created the monster you are, but I sat back. I looked at Carlos, Nobi, April, and anyone else that helped me on that fateful day. Hell, the Corsairs reunited just to have my back!  Nah, Ryo I’m not holding myself responsible for something that was already lurking from within. The darkness I saw in you was the same darkness I saw in Ty Kulina when I was training him. You’re both emotional children angry at a world that you think has forsaken you. No, you pushed us away. You’re the one who’s holding on to your anger until it poisoned your soul. You’re doing this, Ryo! YOU! You have nobody to blame but yourself, sweets. When I took you into my dojo alongside Jacob and the others, you were my first class. I was new to teaching as much as you were new to the business. Side by side we learned more about ourselves as you grew as my student and I as your teacher. I remember one of the first lessons I taught that class had nothing to do with what happens in the ring, but outside of it. The long nights traveling between shows, the feeling of loneliness when in a strange place thousands of miles from anyone who loves you. Those secret battles in your head, where you ask yourself why you’re still doing this!? 

Or in my case, the thoughts that appear in your mind after a fruitful career asking you if you still got it. Ryo, you don’t hate me. I’m just the easiest target you can express your frustrations to. I gave you all the tools for success - all of you! Jacob Striker is a multiple champion and current world champion out there in the wrestling world! My own daughter and first student are multi-time tag champions. Sora Todoh is a former JET Academy Champion. Most of the people who have come through my doors have succeeded Ryo! And you, you’re the one everyone’s talking about! You have so much promise, but it's been consumed by hate. Fine, hate me if you must, I’ll make you see the error of your ways.

One way or another.

To quote something my mentor once said: FUCK IT, WE BALL! 

I didn't get the Championship win, but the season is just getting underway. It's time to get back on track and continue my crusade to make OWA a more honorable place.

 
(In an unknown,well-furnished Conference Room, Giovante Reese  was at one end of the long meeting table, standing up while Diantha Rosso, Maggall, and Raivo all sat and talked a bit amongst each other)


 
(As Giovante Reese was beginning to speak, DT The Ruler walked into the Meeting Room with the OWA World Championship in hand and then set it on the table before sitting down and grabbing one of the water bottles set in the middle of the table. Diantha glances over at the championship on display for a moment but looks away while reaching for a bottle of water nearby.)

Giovante Reese: And we gotta talk seriously about th- (as DT The Ruler settled into his chair, Giovante Reese turned towards him) you’re late.

DT The Ruler: I was right next door. What’s the deal?

Diantha Rosso: You’re still late, mister. We don’t make moves on Colored People Time.

Raivo: That makes it even worse. You weren’t even caught in traffic or anything.

Giovante Reese: You’re still late.

DT The Ruler: Listen, I had a business call I had to take. Private jets don’t pay for themselves. And neither do Meeting Rooms. Like this one. That I paid for. Out of pocket.

Raivo: We get the point: you’re rich. Yeah, yeah, yeah.

(DT The Ruler sighs and looks around the room then back at Raivo)

DT The Ruler: What? You’d rather meet in some back alley that smells like shi-

Giovante Reese: Guys… let’s settle down. We gotta talk for real, and I mean it.

Diantha Rosso: About...?

Giovante Reese: Where we are as a collective. We don’t always get to meet up like this, so we got a chance to make sure we’re all thinking the same way. Since Final Destination, we’ve been needing to regroup, and with Hardcore Havoc not 100% going as planned, we gotta come together and look at what’s going on here. I ain’t happy about where we are, so I know damn well you all aren’t.


(Everyone in the room is shown, expressing their disdain for Giovante Reese’s words)

DT The Ruler: Could I speak here on this?

Giovante Reese: Sure if you want to.

DT The Ruler: I have a feeling I know what you wanna say next? So can I say it?

Giovante Reese: Sure, go ahead, Don. I mean…sir. You take the lead.

(DT The Ruler fixed his tie and stood up)

DT The Ruler: For the moment, I will…aiight... look. Really, do look at the situation we’re in. We’re in deep shit right now. OK? I may have a title and have put Nate Cage in check, and everyone knows how much I want to be champion, but me alone being champion in this group is not enough. Diantha has no belt. Raivo got no belt. We didn’t come together as individuals just for me to be World Champion, nor did we come together as individuals for any single one of us to be the only champion, nor did we come together to fall back in standing to what we were prior to what we did to The Thots. We have to gain our leverage back, and we have to start taking action to gain that leverage back. All of these new champions emerged since Final Destination, and none of them are in this group. All of these people are being hyped up as problems for contenders, and the Hype Machines back no one here. We have to get our advantage in the Fed, and we need to get it ASAP.

(Raivo quickly jumped in)


Raivo: Look, the leverage ain’t ever left. But we can’t say that these bitches don’t think we are complacent. They looking at us like they know what’s gonna happen, because it happened to them. Hell they’ve seen implosion, they’ve seen groups die at they own hands. This ain’t about leverage but more of how we continue to be a unit. We all a unit, dead or alive, title or no title. If we lose that sight then we ain’t no better than the others.

DT The Ruler: Of course we have to show that we can still be a cohesive unit. You peeped the game already, Raivo, as they have been hoping that championships and matches for them would force us to crumble apart. Me and Raivo should be enemies now if History were to play out how it played for many others. But we’re not because we’re stronger than that, and we have to keep reminding ourselves that we are above squabbling. And with the match coming, we have to show in multiple ways that we aren’t done as a group.

(Diantha Rosso is quickly shown, letting off a sigh and folding her arms)

Raivo: We are still a unit, Diantha. Don’t let those assholes get to you, and for sure don’t let your title match in the Chamber get to you either. You ain’t needa show out, you just needa do what you’ve been doing since you was Champion.

Diantha Rosso: I know but I am disgusted by the way these cretins mock me. They wish to handwave a near-year’s worth of dominance as some fluke. All of their smug faces, their laughter. Even that stupid doctor woman tried to mock me! Smashing her through tables, onto chairs, beating her to the point she couldn’t continue wasn’t enough….I don’t know if anything is ever going to be enough anymore….

(Diantha’s arms remain folded, her eyes fixated on something as she just glares at the table, fists balled up as if she’s on the verge of a violent rageful outburst.)

Raivo: You worried you won’t be champion again? Are you still upset that Felix got the belt off you somehow?

Diantha Rosso: Do not ever mention that bitch’s name around me again. That was a fluke, a complete anomaly that will be corrected soon enough. I will beat her like I beat her before, make her squeal like the little whore she is and grind the heel of my boot into the back of her fucking head! I’m glad that Felix is in this tag match, I really am. I have done nothing but think about beating her since Final Destination ended with her standing with MY title! Filth is an annoyance that can be let go and as much as I hate our opponents, Felix is the one I want to destroy the most. I will not rest until she is humbled…COMPLETELY.

Raivo: That’s all well and good, but you’re not wrestling for her title, you’re wrestling this man for his soon. And we still gotta work to get more than just one belt amongst us.

Giovante Reese: Can we all just get on the same damn page here!?


(DT The Ruler let out another light sigh but then started to speak again)

DT The Ruler: Diantha, at least for the coming week, we can’t worry about that. We need to focus on beating the brakes off Team OnlyFans. Either way, we need to regain our advantage, starting at the next event. We can’t lose out; we can’t fall behind. And we can’t be looking like we’re just chillin’. Every moment we spend talking more than doing, we’re losing. Period. And you know how this organization is. They’d rather show Darkane and Lazarus attempting Mortal Kombat 1-esque fatalities than us as the best wrestlers on the roster. They’d rather focus on lesser wrestlers getting a crumb of happiness through luck than give us our due on a regular basis. And we’re here with a chance to start reminding all those degenerates that we haven’t left nor have we regressed.

Giovante Reese: But we got a problem with that thought: we’re forced to team with Aria and her dog, Tyler.

DT The Ruler:I ain’t overlook that detail, and I ain’t forget what that bitch did.

Raivo: I ain’t forget what WE did to her.

Diantha Rosso: “WE” includes “ME” in that, right?


DT The Ruler: Of course. Why would we discount you helping to keep her in check?

Giovante Reese: Yeah, everyone’s contributions count. And Aria deserved it for attacking me the way she did.

Raivo: Look, we ain’t gonna forget what the rat nest headed lil cum-stain of a bitch Tyler and the has-been Aria who tryna reignite whatever fucking pull and relevance they had. But we gonna do what we gonna do with them just to get through this. Cause fuck Thotline. They been a thorn in our asses since they pasty white asses decided to get involved in trying to stop the greatness that is FTM.


DT The Ruler: See, Raivo’s got the idea. Now, we gotta make sure everyone has it. We already had to team with other people we don’t necessarily like. Remember HAVOC. Jason Long. Even Rin and that Skylar bitch. Temporary partnerships don’t have to end with a beer at the local bar after the match ends; they just need to not get in our way and ruin our chances of winning.

Raivo: I don’t just got the idea, I got the vision. Tyler and Aria, they gonna pull something, they gonna try they best but they deadweight as is. They NEED us, not the other way around. Thotline would murder them without us and they know that. And hell Thotline knows that too, because unlike the Tribunal we ain’t someone to fuck around with. The Thotline just a bunch of incestuous looking motherfuckers with no direction. It’s been months since we faced them, and they’re still trying to recover from what we did just by taking them on. Hell, I know Jeff X gonna be busy trying to tap Felix again so his next seed don’t grow up to be like Tyler. The Thotline is a fucking mess, always has been since Bishop left. Chris can’t lead, Jeff Can’t lead, Felix can’t lead, Arata is a mess, and Moongoose, well I fucking remembered Moongoose was a thing still. All these people don’t got that unit, they just got a reason to team. Ain’t nothing keeping them together other than the fact that once they go their own way, they’ll lose relevance. This match is their saving grace because I know they can only do so much.

 
 
As the song “Paint It Black” by the Rolling Stones plays on the jukebox, the camera zooms back out, revealing The Banshee perched on the nearby dining counter, wearing her normal wrestling attire. She has a large smile on her face, the camera now focused on the former champion.
 
The Banshee: Ah… what an entertaining week I’ve had… listening to more of your incessant and inane blubbering about how I’m overrated, or you’re gonna enjoy hurting me, yada yada yada… it’s funny you accuse me of being so “old hat,” when the very things you have said to me have already been said by many others before you, and they also fell victims to their own hubris, as you will soon…
 
Do you think I’m just “an old cunt that can’t be taught new tricks?” That my shtick has grown stale and predictable? 

Fair enough, that’s a somewhat-accurate claim… but have you actually tried to find out the “why” of the truth in that embellished statement?
 
Why would I need to learn any new tricks… when the classics still serve me well?
 
The jukebox whirls back to life, selecting another record to play, while The Banshee continues glaring at the camera.
 
“Bad Moon Rising” by CCR begins playing, while thunder coincidentally cracks the outside night sky. The Banshee leaps off the counter, slowly approaching the jukebox.
 
The Banshee: Is it because you’re spinning out-of-control on your self-imposed quest to prove something to yourself? You certainly speak as someone that’s utterly DESPERATE to stay relevant… something that I managed to do EVEN when my corpse was incinerated into ash, my actual presence missing for months…  and yet, no one forgot about The Banshee…
 
That’s a key difference between me and you already, Nathan… Everything I’ve done in my career has made me unforgettable in the eyes of the fans… the front office… and ESPECIALLY my opponents…
 
Meanwhile, you made a sad, futile, and vain bargain in order to stay relevant amongst the lips and minds of the OWA fans, front office, and roster… I’ve never once traded my soul for success, let alone just for the fleeting opportunity of success, but you, on the other hand…
 
You are the poster child for failure… You think you can simply “atone” for your disappointments just by offering up your soul? What value does your soul even possess? You need to be reminded of your failures daily… because that’s exactly who you still are… Nate Cage, the colossal failure of Kingdom…
 
You can speak about not fearing me, or that random Odyssey roster members were never afraid of me… do you really think that I care? My threats may sound similar to you, but that’s easy enough to explain…
 
If something isn’t broke, why bother changing it? My threats would ring hollow if my career resembled the shambles that you find yours in… however, we both know that my threats carry weight to them, because I’ve actually had a successful journey so far in the OWA, despite some obvious set-backs… but for you…


The jukebox buzzes back to life, selecting another LP to play. “End of the World” by Skeeter Davis comes through the speakers, The Banshee’s eyes flashing with rage…
 
The Banshee: Your journey ended the moment you sold your soul… you no longer have possession of what makes you unique… It’s good that you’re quite accustomed to being reminded of your failures… because I’m going to give you another reminder on Kingdom, regardless of your false confidence…
 
You claim to be some fearless husk, but it’s confusing who you’re really trying to persuade… because The Banshee certainly isn’t convinced… There is still fear within you, bubbling beneath the surface, betraying the bluster you’ve cried all week about how dangerous and twisted you assert yourself to be, because of the horrors you’ve experienced in the past…
 
But you haven’t experienced the horrors of The Banshee yet though, have you? You will soon enough… I’ll verify that still fear still resides inside you… hell, I can do that right now… just by pointing out that you put your own soul on the line just to get a “hail Mary” chance to rewrite your legacy… You can justify it however you want, but that action reeks of someone that’s afraid of becoming an uninteresting annotation…
 
 
The lights in the diner begin flickering on-and-off for a few quick moments, blanketing the diner into total darkness. The jukebox then lights up first, still appearing the same as before, as it plays “Scream As You Like It” by W.A.S.P. plays, followed by the lights flickering back on… only to reveal that The Banshee is no longer inside a 50s diner, but instead what appears to be a darkly-lit 1980s-era bowling alley. The Banshee leans next to a broken arcade machine with a cracked screen.
 
The Banshee: Although you will indeed be my next victim, Nathan… I don’t view you as being “helpless.” You’re someone that’s so keen to tell the world about how “evil” you’ve become in your despair, which you think impresses The Banshee… it doesn't... Nothing you’ve done in your career impresses me, but I’m not going to discount the possible challenge you present in the ring… especially with your comrades-in-arm joining you at ringside…
 
You claim to be the “real monster” between us, but I don’t think you quite understand the term “monster,” let alone what it means to be one… you’re clearly confused, because you’re nothing more than a twisted bastard that thinks being a monster is just building up a resume of evil… There are many definitions of what defines a “monster,” but the only descriptions that fit you would be ugliness, cruelty, and a spoiled child who behaves badly… because that’s what are… a sinister and petulant child…
 
Just because I may fight alongside angels… doesn’t mean that I’m one myself… but if you want to call yourself a “monster,” so be it… because man or monster, you’re still going to bow the knee to the Queen of the Monsters on Kingdom… Unlike you, I’ve earned the label of monster long ago…
 
You think that having decency is my “weakness,” but what makes you think that I’m a “good person?” Because of the company I keep? Because I’m not “burning down villages” in order to rack up enough “sins” to justify the monster moniker? The only source of poison in my life right now is The Tribunal, and the Hex Girls are the perfect antidote to purging that poison out of the OWA forever…
 
You claim you rejected your morals to become this psychotic force of malevolence that even your fellow Tribunal buddies should exercise caution around… again, make whatever brash claims you wish, because it doesn’t change the actual truth about you…
 
Nathan Cage is the very thing he insists that he hates… a “depressed hack” that has to scream louder than ME just to get some attention... the final actions of a despondent has-been with his back to the wall…
 
The jukebox then selects “I’m Awake Now” by the Goo Goo Dolls, while The Banshee continues leaning against the broken arcade.
 
The Banshee: If there’s one trait about you that sickens me to the core, it’s your overly-inflated arrogance, which isn’t even earned simply based on your own track record of success… both recently and years ago… But if you’re relying on my own past failures to create your own “blueprints” for success against me, then you’re really far more stupid than I previously believed… Do you think I’m liable to fall for the same tricks twice?
 
You’re welcome to test that theory… ask Kenny Drake to bring every tool sold in Home Depot… have JD Damon bring in every sword, dagger, and blade in the Midwest area… hell, bring every weapon you can all get your grubby paws around…
 
In the end… it all won’t be enough to stop me… because I am still the ultimate weapon, regardless of whatever “humanity” still resides within my soul… something else you’re secretly envious of…
 
The Banshee has journeyed through different realms… including the many layers of despair that most religions like to call “Hell,” though the actual place is far more… there actually isn’t any known adjectives in any language that can properly summarize just how horrible and bleak that place really is… but you, Nathan… You WISH you had the ability to travel between worlds… but you’re nothing more than a man… a sad, pathetic man with delusions of grandeur…
 
It’s clear that you have come to view this match as some sort of bullshit-macho cock-measuring contest… do you actually think that I even care about you trying to “out-evil” me? For starters, no one here has experienced every terror I’ve unleashed into the world, but more importantly… I’ve never cared about such a stupid label… Good… Evil… I’ll go beyond the borders of both in order to reach my goals…
 
While I acknowledge that this vessel I share with Morrighan does indeed have “limits,” your arrogance screams that you will easily find these “limits” on your kamikaze mission to add relevance to your non-existent legacy… Also, I delight in finding out what “limits” the human body itself possesses, so we shall see who is able to surpass these limits first… You think that God molded you into a “tormentor” of sorts… If I believed in such a thing, what kind of mold would fit me? Monster? Executioner? Saint?
 
The simple answer is also the most accurate one… ALL OF THEM! I have literally returned from the Domains of Death itself… I am literally a walking abomination in many people’s eyes… But The Horde and Marie Bouchard still embrace the undead aversion that walks the salt of the Earth… Marie doesn’t fear me because she doesn’t need to fear me… she’s my sister, and she’s also proven she doesn’t need me nearby to be successful on her own… Meanwhile, you won’t take a dump unless your Tribunal sorority sisters are flanking the stall…
 
You don’t fear me because I am “more human than you have ever been?” What a crock of shit, but considering the stench you leave behind in your wake, no one is even surprised by such a ridiculous notion… It’s more than obvious you fear The Banshee… you might not “fear” me in the traditional sense, because I do employ a lot of cinematic “haunted house” antics…
 
But there is genuine fear still inside, isn’t there? It’s why you’re so angry, isn’t it? You claim that I’m sickened whenever I’m reminded of my humanity, but that’s not true at all… You think that “finding the good” in me will elevate you to victory? I’m still awaiting the explanation on that ghost story, one which you told quite poorly, because there needs to be some added realism to ground such a lavish tale…
 
It’s overly pronounced how much of a misogynist you are, Nathan… Your ego clearly can’t handle losing to the stronger sex, and you’ve been defeated by a “walking uterus” many times in your sorry career… And no, you beating up on your sister, regardless of her accomplishments, isn’t at all impressive…
 
The Banshee is no longer shackled to the Odyssey roster… soon, you will no longer be able to lie to yourself… soon, you will feel fear tingling up your spine… a fear that you can’t cover up with false bravado…
 
You think that you’re without limits… let’s test that theory, because I see myself as someone different… someone that excels in finding an opponent’s limit… someone that utterly enjoys inflicting punishment that passes those limits, breaking their very souls in twain…
 
I don’t think you’re going to enjoy this experience, but please foolishly try to… because I certainly am enjoying the opportunity to further push the Tribunal further into obscurity… by making its most polarizing-yet-worthless member into a lesson that my future adversaries can treat as gospel whenever stepping into the ring with the Queen of the Monsters…
 
Don’t fuck with The Banshee and the Hex Girls… and Happy Thanksgiving, bitch…

The jukebox starts playing “Lost in the Shadows” by Lou Gramm, as all the lights in the 80s arcade suddenly explode into showers of sparks, as The Banshee lets out a shriek that cause the building to shake. The song continues playing as the camera cuts to black, the audio slowly fading out.

It was a slow, lackadaisical kind of day. While there was not a lot of people out and about on this early afternoon, it wasn’t exactly quiet either as you could still hear the standard city soundscape in the background. As well, the cool November breeze was a welcome touch, the world finally starting to accept the fact that winter was soon approaching. As she sat atop of a retaining wall in a secluded part of the park she had found during her morning trek for coffee, Ruri Kuzunoha closed her eyes. She let that cool wind poke at her face and let her dyed blonde hair catch sail for a moment before she would speak.

“Do you know what I want more than ever?” She asked, keeping her eyes closed as she reached out towards the sky, her sleeve sliding down her arm to reveal a thick rubber band wrapped around her wrist and red marks drawn across her arm in red ink. “I want to remember what it felt like to be happy, to know that warmth again. But…”

She pauses for a second before continuing as her voice starts to grow cold.

“But I am not naïve enough to believe that that could ever happen. No, I’ll never be able to dream the radical dreams of my past. My dreams are forlorn, devoid of any hope and forever frozen in the cold emptiness that has been my home for the better part of a year, if not more. But I’ve come to understand that that’s just the true nature of how things must be in this business. Any sense of value you may think you have, in the end matters not. it doesn’t matter how much effort you put in… because there will be voices that tell you that you just don’t want it enough that no matter what effort you put in, it’s not enough to matter. It doesn’t matter what your ambitions are, because someone will be there to make sure that you never reach them, because what you desire means nothing… and any hope, any love that you may have… get drained and stolen away from you. This is the reality of this world, despite what anyone may try to claim.”

Ruri says, before opening her eyes.

“If that wasn’t the case, then why, despite my protests… despite actively showing her at Hardcore Havoc that I want nothing to do with her anymore, is Rin Asakura still in my corner on Odyssey this week, if not to torment me by making her presence known?” Ruri waited for an answer that she knew would never come. “Why is Tomomi going to be sitting at commentary, if not just to continue whatever holier-than-thou bullshit she likes to spew from her mouth?

She said before letting her arm just drop back down.

“I want to be left alone… to be forgotten by everyone.” She says defeated. “I’ve tried so hard to change things, to get my life back together, but everywhere I turn I find myself standing at the edge of a cliff that goes down into a bottomless void… and I’ve started to wonder whether I should just go ahead and willingly jump in before I inevitably stumble and fall. After all, there is nothing here that matters anymore. Maybe I should just embrace the emptiness… listen the song of entropy and sadness that I hear constantly in my head…”

She pauses.

“What if I were to tell you I’ve already made that decision and now, I want to sing that song of entropy and sadness, so that everone else can know the truth that I was forced to learn…”

Ruri pauses before swiveling around to let both her legs drape down the side of the wall. She looks dead ahead as she lets her hair fall down over her face.

“Josie, I hope that you do take this match between us seriously. That you don't take the fact that you're up against a worthless and insignificant piece of junk like me and use it as just another way to joke around. Because truth be told, you're just as worthless and as insignificant as me…”

She lets out a soft chortle.

“But you’re better than that, you’re neither of those… because you’re supposed to be a prodigy, right? You’re one of Bishop’s favorites, you learned all you know from him and his ilk. Before coming here to Odyssey you were considered a dangerous threat to anyone who would dare step into the ring with you… only instead you’ve only wound up as nothing more than a French chucklefuck with a Parisian accent. I mean, you couldn’t even do us all a favor and kill Rin like you wanted… not that I have any grounds to talk on that, since the biggest regret I’ve got right now is saving her from getting added to Bishop’s kill count, becuase I though that there was something within that bitch’s heart, that she’d have something that could be redeemed…” She shakes her head. “Shows how much I know right?”

She shrugs slightly.

“Everything about you though sounds familiar, but different in a way. It reminds me of how there was another member of The Corsairs that was coming to OWA… that she was going to be a this dangerous force on odyssey, but when she finally made her debut she ended up becoming a complete and utter fuck up choc full of suicidal thoughts. I mean what was she thinking expecting that she would come in and not end up being a broken, useless failure… barely worth being a goon for an Asakura. Prodigies don't exist. That moniker is something given to someone when they can’t handle coping with their insecurities. Take the status of where someone comes from and use that as an excuse to explain why they should matter, when our upbringings, our blood, our talent… none of that actually matters.”

Ruri sighs.

“Josie, I want you to wrestle me, like your career depends on it. I want you to come at me with everything you got. No jokes, no games, no bits… I want to see you scream at me with all the passion int he world, because right now more than ever, I’d like to see what it means to still be able to feel like something matters… because I’m past the point where I am even able to… and I know that you need to get yourself some sort of win here, it’s something that you crave, although I truly doubt that someone like me is the best candidate for that… You want to get the stigma of your past washed away, but trust me… there is no getting rid of the stink. Once you are labeled something, once you have been handed a reputation, even if you don’t believe you deserve it, it is going to be with you forever. Take it from the biggest coward in the company, the woman who’d rather cry and complain about being trapped in an inescapable situation, instead of just letting her life come to an end either by the hands of a monster, the pre-ordained heroes, or by her own damned hands. You’re never going to escape being the goofy french girl with the big bad wolf hiding in her head. You’ll always be relied on to provide some quirky little bit that makes people laugh, even though every time you do it eats away at yoru very fucking soul. Rin Asakura’s goon. Rin Asakura’s lackey. Rin Asakura’s puppet… I could go on, and on with the different variations of saying it, but you get the picture.There’s no getting rid of it, not by fighting… you can’t prove anyone wrong because no matter what you do, someone will put that jester’s hat back on your head, just like how I keep getting a leash put around my neck… the only way to truly escape it, is by jumping headlong into the void, to welcome the emptiness that is growing inside you. Let your hopes and dreams die. And while I can’t promise you’ll feel better for it, there will be a weight lifted from you, that will make surviving in the cold, that much more bearable.”