Cassie stomped out of the ‘living room’ - if you could even call it that. A beat up, old couch sat in the middle of the room facing a knock-off, big box store brand television that they probably stole from somewhere and a few chairs scattered around. It wasn’t much, but to be completely honest - none of them really spent much time here. After Darkane’s exit, after Cassie kicked the lamp so that it spun on its side to only be stopped by the cord that was already stretched to its maximum limit. The door of the bedroom she stormed into slammed shut, leaving just OZIAS in the living room - shaking his head, exhaling a frustrated sigh.

It was only a few moments later that Victoria slipped out of the room dedicated to Maisie. She quietly closed the door, and turned her head to see OZIAS sitting in one of the fold out chairs. “Where is she?” Victoria said in a whisper, but loud enough for OZIAS’ head to turn in her direction.

Without verbally replying, only giving her an upward nod - head slightly tilted to the left, giving Victoria that she went into the other bedroom. Nodding, Victoria slowly moved down the hallway as quietly as she could before sinking down onto the couch. “This is crazy.” she said, placing her elbow onto the couch arm before lowering her head into her hand. Her fingers combed through her brunette hair, the stress of everything weighing on her right now. “Lazarus doesn’t-not answer my calls or texts. And he hadn’t responded to Cassie either.”

OZIAS let out a low groan, “You shouldn’t worry. Laz can take care of himself - he needs you here for Maisie.”

“Yeah, well. Maisie needs her father - and I…” she stopped herself, going quiet. OZIAS’ eyes moved to find hers as she cleared her throat. “With everything going on, I just think he needs to be here making a plan with Darkane. The Profane Covenant is coming for Darkane’s SoulStone and will stop at nothing to get it. Hana and Emmy are coming for the tag titles; they’re backed into a corner.” She said, jumping into a new topic. “And him just going missing is the last thing we need.”

“Lazarus and Darkane are at their best when their backs are against the wall.” His eyes narrowed onto her when she turned her head to look in his direction. “You don’t corner a rabid, bloodthirsty animal - it never ends well.”

She fell silent, his words running through her head. Finally, she spoke up. “So how do you feel about it?” ….

----------------

“This feels good. This feels right. For the longest time, it felt as if I were stuck in the same cycle of just going through the motions. There was no focus, no way to direct my violence - but you’ve shown me the way. I thank you for what you’ve done, but the OWA should not because what comes next is a literal massacre. The Profane Covenant, you’ve opened a door and allowed me re-entry into the world I’ve known since I can remember. The world of Violence. True, unadulterated, limitless violence. What you did to my brother will be settled - but first, we show Hana and Emmanuel’s the meaning of real, and true, violence. So I thank you; I needed that reminder.”

“I have to ask a couple of questions, though. If at first you don’t succeed, do you change your strategy - or do you plow headfirst into the brickwall with no changes hoping that it gives? When looking up to the titans that stand atop the mountain - the same ones that have already sent you tumbling back to the ground - do you think of a new way to approach, or do you climb right back up the same path hoping to catch them off guard while their eyes have been focused on you the entire time?”

“Intelligence would gift you the answer to these questions, but it’s a trait that isn’t shared by the duo that claim to be the next tag team champions. It’s embarrassing to listen to them trying so desperately to match the energy and characteristics of Darkane and I - especially when it comes to Hana. She continuously jumps the line of remorse and impenitence; apologetic and even, at-times, willfully ignorant - blaming her transgressions on Havoc and that it wasn’t of her doing. But in the next breath, she’s taking full credit for the atrocities. Her approach changes depending on the situation she finds herself in - and when facing the two tyrants, blood soaked titans of Olympus - low-and-behold, the Hana Nakajima that comes to fight is the merciless killer.”

“Am I surprised? No. But it’s clear that she feels a certain way as we approach this match. First the asinine belief that I fear her. I’m a man who’s looked the Death Reaper directly in the eyes and left him reduced to ashes, before the powers of God resurrected him. I’m a man who’s stood alone against legions of men, and left them sliced into pieces - but yet I fear some stupid bitch who straddles the line of good and evil like a cheap whore straddles the lap of a John? Grasping at straws, throwing shit to the wall to see if it sticks, talking out of her ass; you pick the metaphor, either way it all sums it up the same.”

“All I hear are the repeated sentences, ‘almost beat you’. She has no grasp on reality. Almost in this profession does not exist. Almost is the same thing as losing; which you did. Did I feel the warm breath of the challengers on the nape of my neck back when we faced them? Sure, I will admit that. But what happened? I drove my elbow into the back of Hana’s fucking skull. I drove my elbow into Emmanuelle’s fucking jaw while Darkane cut her in half. The Seventh Ward dissected another team that wanted to challenge, and we stood tall at the end. It’s asif the constant banter of ‘almost winning’ exists to convince someone of their worth. It does not achieve the desired effect with us; but what of you, Hana? Does it help you sleep at night thinking you had a chance? Have we gotten that far underneath your skin? Has the Seventh Ward burrowed themselves into your brain to the point where you rock yourself, clutching your knees to your chest, repeating the same mindless babble? All you needed were three seconds to defeat us, but you couldn’t find them when you came to us as new, fresh competition. Competition that we had never faced before; so what makes this time any different? Because you’ve beaten a who’s-who list of randomly paired teams? Our problems with the Profane Covenant aside, the Seventh Ward watched the tournament - and we have been ready for the winners. We have been ready, knives and forks at the ready, for a new feast of the flesh; but this meal is just a second-helping. Old leftovers we’ve left to rot in the back of the fridge. Perhaps we were too easy on you the last time; perhaps we should have finished the job. Had we picked the bones clean, we wouldn’t be here exchanging these pleasantries again.”

“I will point the finger of blame on complacency, but don’t fret - I have found a new batch of venom to soak up, ready to soak - to drown you in when we enter the DreamWorld. As far as Darkane? My new found level of hatred, of violence and of bloodlust will spread to him like a disease, infecting my brother even more-so than he is now. When that happens, we will revel in the torture that is forced upon you and Emmanuelle. Until then, you sit locked within your head - forced to replay every second of our last encounter, trying to pick it apart and find holes in our tandem. We’re inside of your head, Hana, and all of those insecurities that you try to hide are showing. You try to hide your fear of losing, your fear of becoming irrelevant - and we see through it. We see through the bravado, the facade that you try to make us all believe. You’re not this demonic killer that you’re claiming to be, because months ago you were apologizing to Marie and offering her championship opportunities. You’re not the demonic killer that snapped your own husband's neck and showed no remorse. At best, you’re a schizophrenic with a split-personality - you’re nothing like us, even though you try your best to act it. We’ve gotten into your head, and you’re projecting in order to protect yourself - because you know that this is it. You know that when you fall to your knees in defeat in front of the Seventh Ward again, you will have fallen from the peak of this company, to the fucking bottom. Irrelevancy is too nice of a term to point to. Hana Nakajima might as well be dead - and that’s exactly what we aim to do this time.”

“We’ve wounded you physically. We’re currently tearing you apart mentally. We’re destroying you from the inside out, and the outcome of this match is a foregone conclusion at this point. The so-called ‘Queens’ will become victims of the rats - of the motherfucking savages that have made Olympus our graveyard since we stepped up to stand side-by-side. And two cunts who have been rendered worthless in every other aspect of their careers; two cunts that have been reduced to being throw aways from every other brand in this company will not stop us.”

----------------


----------------

“The taste of the Silver Spoons has dissolved from their mouths; a new reality has set in. Hana and Emmanuelle both have felt the need to bring up their oh-so ‘tragic’ backstories of lavish lives; and then turn around and tell us about how hard they’ve had it coming up through this industry? That mindless chatter matters not, Emmanuelle - don’t you see? I don’t give a fuck about WrestleWorld, DreamWorld or whatever skeletons are in your closet from the beginnings of your career. Had I sat here and gone into detail of Kingdom Pro., or New Level Wrestling, or any other company I took part in - you would have gone on a tirade of how things that don’t happen here, don’t apply. I said what I said; you two are clinging onto this Tournament win asif you were just crowned the champions - but you weren’t. The tournament was designed around you, built for you - and I will not see it another way. They scraped the bottom of the barrel finding the teams, Nobi and Cloud included. Are they decorated? Yes. Are they a legitimate team? No. They stand as a unit, they do not travel as a team. They do not compete as a team. Darkane and I? Since the Seventh was formed - we have ripped through this company as a team. And here we stand, as the champions - and that’s not up for a debate or an argument.”

“I can assure you of one thing, though. Bow down, we will not be doing. What is there to bow down to? Egomaniacal narcissists who don’t know or understand the severity of the situation they’ve found themselves in? You’re too concerned with convincing us you’re experienced enough, and tough enough to withstand the onslaught that’s coming your way. Hana’s too concerned with trying to convince herself and anyone within earshot that she’s evil and sadistic just like we are, but couldn’t truly fathom the level of sadism that we are capable of. You said you don’t have to be more dangerous, smarter, tougher or stronger - all you needed were three seconds? All you needed were three seconds; and neither you, nor Hana could find them. It’s because we beat you as a fucking team. The tournament may have given you two some experience, but do I think things have changed? No. You still come to us, wet behind the ears, eager to show us exactly how ‘competitive’ you are. It didn’t help you the first time, it won’t help you now.”

“It’s because you two are not on the same page. Hana is confused, playing predator when she’s the prey. You’re confused, talking about Twitter and your fucking upbringing - when you should be trying to find that next gear that puts you in the winning column. Darkane, he’s fueled by Belial - something that you should definitely concern yourself with. He is evil's brightest lit match, with a snap of his fingers he will bring forth a wave of hellfire that will incinerate you and everyone you love and cherish. I have found my purpose, the one I have been searching for - for sometime. I have found what I need to fuel me through - and past - this insignificant challenge from the so-called ‘Queens’.”

“You will not get close, not even close enough to taste the gold. You and Hana will be ravaged, and no this time I will not excite you with promises of disembowelment. This time I will not tease you with torture. That’s all foreplay. You say you fuck back? Well then, you better be ready to have your souls sodomized and ripped apart then, because THAT is what we’re about.”

“You two want to act tough? You want depravity? You’re looking at the two most depraved men on this fucking roster - if not in this fucking industry. This is what you wanted right; your rematch? Well …”

“Welcome to your funeral.”

----------------

[[Our camera opens up to show Nas in a snazzy suit sitting in his personal office in the Best Wrestling Academy. Standing next to him is his school’s head trainer and his right hand man Big Manks.]]

Ya know I just don’t get it. Things don’t have to be this way, yet as we can all plainly see…this is the direction we’re headed in. Can someone PLEASE explain to me why my opponent Chad Ecclestone, the current reigning defending Omega Wrestling Alliance World Champion, has decided to be a complete fuckin dick to me unnecessarily? I mean seriously Chad I want to know from your perspective? Do you have a personal issue with me despite the fact that we’ve never met or spoken a word to one another before? Are you being antagonistic because you hold true fear in your heart and mind that I will take that very championship from around your waist? Or…are you just a goddamn prick who loves to big himself up by putting others down for no fucking reason other than to stroke your own fragile little ego? You tell me, I’m curious. Because It really did not have to be like this whatsoever Champ. We don’t gotta be fuckin friends. We don’t have to exchange Christmas gifts or nothin. There’s no need for us to wanna see each other in a whole new light or something like that. All I was looking for was a great exhibition match against the top man in OWA with the flagship prize of our industry on the line. And that’s truthfully all you should want out of this too. But that don’t seem to be the case anymore. Because unless you wanted to have a problem with me in the first place, you wouldn’t create one. Unless of course you’re just a little snot nosed punk bastard who’s mouth gets him into more trouble than his pussy ass could truthfully fight his way out of? See because now you really got me fuckin amped up Chad. And I don’t mean excited for this big opportunity amped. I mean I’m gonna beat the absolute SHIT outta you amped! And I just gotta wonder. Do you like the sound of your own voice? And first of all lemme get one thing straight with you Chad. Since you wanna spit in the face of my respect that I gave towards you when I truthfully had zero reason to on my own end other than the fact that it’s just who I am and in my nature to do so, how about you do one thing for me at least. I’m not your guy, I’m not your bro. We definitely ain’t gonna be friends now. So don’t talk to me like I’m one of your little fuckin buddies running around in that locker room right now, do you understand me little boy? I’m sure now you’re fuckin proud of yourself huh you little dick muncher? Because before I said it didn’t matter if it were you, Filth, or anyone else in your position. And I’m assuming your self centered ass took that one to heart. You’re the center of your own little universe Chad Ecclestone. And you can’t have anyone running around here not giving you and your self induced hype the time of day. So now I am laser focused on you specifically. I don’t want to fight Rebecca Filth right now. I don’t desire to take on any other person in this company, whether they be from Kingdom, Olympus, Odyssey, wherever the fuck else! And I don’t care about any other champion at this very moment. You’re the only person I wanna fight now! Are ya happy with yourself there Chad? See because we could have just shared mutual respect with each other and had a killer match at OWA’s Sixth Year anniversary. A celebration of the past, present, and future of the Omega Wrestling Alliance. But you had to go and put yourself above all of it. You did the exact thing that I was originally giving you credit for NOT doing in fact. NOT being one of those outside influencers who comes into wrestling to take take and take without giving anything in return. But now wrestling is going to take from you. I’m going to take that respect from you since you won’t show it towards me! Specifically I’ll beat the fuckin respect out of you, ya little frog faced bastard! Without someone like me to pave the way for the likes of you, your little bitch ass wouldn’t have a platform in the first place, ya little smug cunt! So please tell me just one thing once it’s all said and done Chad. There’s only one simple question I want you to answer when the dust has settled…once the smoke has cleared…when the match is over and I’m standing over you raising MY new Omega Wrestling Alliance World Heavyweight Championship high into the sky! My music playing, the fans hollering at the top of their lungs. Standing on their feet in deafening adulation for me! All I want you to tell me is…was this really worth it in the end? You’re brash, you’re young, you’re ignorant…everything I would expect you to be. In other words Chad Ecclestone…you’re textbook. And I didn’t even think you would be. You revealed your hand when I was willing to give you the opportunity to present yourself as otherwise. And that may just be the saddest part about this. I gave you the most obvious opportunity to show me something different! To prove you were unique! Not just another cocky little bastard! Yet here you are now, showing your entire ass to be nothing but what a typical person in your position would be. You’re definitely NOT the special one I’ve been searching for to push our industry into the next level, that’s for sure!

[[Nasir Moore just shuts his eyes and shakes his head in disappointment while having his arms folded.]]

Am I a long winded story teller Chad? Why yes I am. Do I like telling grand tales to any and all who will listen to them? But of course. I could be no other way! It’s authentically who I am and the only thing I know how to be. Just as I authentically gave you all the credit in the world for becoming OWA World’s Champion before you decided to spit in the face of my generosity for no good reason whatsoever. I gave you credit for how you did it even. When most other people in my position would and already have chastised you and criticized you for how you utilized the briefcase in such an underhanded manner. I gave you all the credit in the world for being tactical because that’s the very nature of that particular accolade! We very well understood that when we created the Ascension to the Heaven’s! Plus you earn the right to use that briefcase anyhow you desire. You went through one of the most grueling, painful, career shortening matches in Professional Wrestling history to claim the ultimate opportunity. And you know what? You reap the rewards. Congratulations! I take zero issue with that whatsoever. If I were in your position Chad, I’d probably do very little differently. You’ve reached the pinnacle of our profession and that is something to cherish. You SHOULD be proud of yourself. But don’t let your self pride blind you from reality, young man. Reality being, you’ve made a thrilling exhibition match into a personal showdown all to boost your own ego. So I do how you’re prepared to face the consequences Mr. Ecclestone. You know the old saying? About being able to cash checks that your mouth writes? Well Mr. Heavyweight Champion of the World…we’re gonna find out if you're up to snuff on Saturday now aren’t we? Or if you’re just another conceited kid who blew his big shot in the spotlight because he got too big for his britches! See because that’s one thing I will give Moongoose McQueen credit for at the very least. He stands on business and is a man above all else. We are idealistically different in many ways. But we both agreed on one important detail. We settle our business head to head, face to face, man to man! I can respect the fact that when the bell finally rang and we stood off against one another, he brought his A game and he fulfilled his promises. He didn’t just make empty threats because they sounded cool or because it made him feel better about himself. Maybe consider that before running your mouth so eagerly little boy. Because you act like you hold the entire world and everything in it within the palm of your hands. This is the great Chad Ecclestone’s world and all the rest of us are lucky and privileged enough to live in it! The more I talk about you Chad…you make me think about those more maniacal sides of myself that have brought me my greatest shame in my existence. I was truly hoping to not be reminded of those times by seeing any of you. Because you lot that are supposed to be carrying the Omega Wrestling Alliance…scratch that, the ENTIRE Professional Wrestling Industry into the next great era…I don’t want any of you to be like how I was a few years ago! Because if even one of you is and has any sort of influence whatsoever…it could spell complete disaster for this entire business that we all love and care so much for. And I absolutely positively refuse to allow for that to happen ever again! So if I gotta put your ass down in order to get you and your big head in check, then I’m heading into OWA Six to do exactly that! There’s so much at stake in this one when it originally wasn’t meant to at all, but hey that’s the beauty of our crazy ass business ain’t it? I’ll save my profession from you. I’ll save the company I helped start from you. I’ll save the brand I was the first to main event for from you. But probably most importantly Chad Ecclestone…I’ll do what no one could do for me three years ago…I’ll save you from yourself! Because that’s the most important part! Not allowing you to be completely corrupted by power and greed just as I was! This matchup is far more appropriate than it has any right to be. You’d think on paper that some Hollywood influencer bigshot like you and a humble man like me should have zero in common. Like many others I’ve crossed paths with you seemed to have been predestined for greatness whereas I was always defying the odds of what was meant for me. An orphaned kid, considered undersized, could barely make it to the big leagues of pro wrestling at first. I toiled away in the independents honing my skills, and only got my first big break doing a parody gimmick that gave people some fun pops. But still I had glass ceiling after glass ceiling placed firmly above my head! And slowly but surely I found my voice…and my purpose! And that gave me strength. And I used that newfound power to BLAST STRAIGHT THROUGH EVERY CEILING, EVERY WALL, EVERY BARRIER ANYONE HAS EVER PUT IN MY WAY! Because you might have all the natural technique and charisma in the world Chad. Many MANY others did as well. Jacob Senn, Aren Mstislav, and Scott Oasis just to name a few…some of the greatest ever! I was never MEANT to be on their footing from the very beginning! BUT I FORCED MY WAY INTO THE HEARTS OF THE PEOPLE AND INTO THE RING FOR THOSE BIG MAIN EVENT MATCHES! AND SETBACK AFTER SETBACK MADE ME STRONGER! Eventually so strong that I truly was at one point undeniably the Best Wrestler Alive…even the almighty G.O.A.T. Jaywalker said so…

[[Nasir looks down and holds onto a framed picture sitting on his desk. It’s a photo of him with many of his closest friends over the years. Aren Mstislav, Aria Jaxon, Nathan Fiora, Kenny Drake, Finnegan Wakefield, Keelan Callihan, Stephanie Matsuda, Scott Oasis, and the late great Brody Sparks. Nas can be seen crying as his tears fall onto the picture frame.]] 

We all made a vow many years ago…that we’d change the business for the better. That we’d leave Pro Wrestling globally in a few greater state than how we entered it. I’d say we’ve already done a hell of a job at that, wouldn’t you agree old friends? Ya see Chad, you’ll come to understand greater what all I’m sharing with you in time. You couldn’t possibly comprehend all the words of wisdom I’ve been passing onto you here and now. It’s just not feasible. But the most important thing in this industry of ours that we cherish so deeply. It’s not the money made. It’s not the championships and accolades. It’s not statistical dominance. And I knew that for a while. But as I began to achieve the great successes that many told me was impossible for someone of my pedigree…I lost sight of what was most important myself. I had to exile myself. Live in complete isolation for years. Reflect on every single last decision of my life up to that point to truly see the bigger picture. Or should I say…this specific picture. Because this is the most important thing at the end of the day. It’s the bonds we forge. With both our peers and the fans. It’s the memories we create that become immortalized. It’s not that you ARE an OWA World Champion. It’s the night, the moment when you cashed in your Ascension to the Heaven’s Briefcase to BECOME Omega Wrestling Alliance World Heavyweight Champion! That’s what people will remember you for for the rest of eternity. You say I’m just a man of the past. Many have for some time. No. I’m no old relic. As a matter of fact. I’m not the past…I’m not the present…Nor am I the future. Chad Ecclestone…no EVERYONE! If there’s anything to take away from any of this…it’s this line right here: Nasir Moore is TIMELESS! Who I am, what I represent, the things I’ve gone on to both achieve and innovate. They will outlive all of our mortal bodies…but my spirit will resonate through all of it and through all the people who experience OWA Wrestling! Because the tale of David vs. Goliath will always exist on our history as a people. There will always be legendary stories of Prodigies being upset by Underdogs. The man who holds all the keys to the kingdom will always be knocked off from his perch by the one he least expects. No king suspects that they’ll be usurped from their throne by some commoner…yet I’ve stolen the crowns from dozens of them. I’ve personally made a living out of it! Because the one true special quality I’ve always possessed more so than anyone else. Whether they're faster than me, stronger than me, more durable than me, more agile than me, smarter than me…it’s like I said earlier Chad, my voice is my greatest weapon! And I’ve honed the ability to use it with pure mastery. When I speak, people listen! I command respect with my presence when I hold a microphone! All I know how to do is be completely honest and speak from the heart to the people. I’m not good at gimmicking myself up. I’ve never been a good actor. I’m terrible and playing a role or part that is not purely ME! And people resonate with that. They feel my authenticity. I share my entire being with them. Physically, Mentally, Emotionally, AND Physically. And in turn they give all of that energy right back to me! THAT is what fuels me to achieve the impossible! That’s how I’ve managed to toppled the giants of this industry for damn near a decade now! And I ALWAYS encourage all of those out there to do the exact same as I am. Maybe not here in Pro Wrestling, but in whatever you desire to do the absolute most! An old saying some of you may recall from years back is…I aspire to inspire. That’s the most important thing to me now. To be that beacon of hope! To show to anyone and everyone else out there in this scary, complicated life of ours…that if I can do the things I’ve done despite my life circumstances, NOTHING is stopping you from doing the same if it’s what you truly desire! You just gotta be hungry, and you gotta put in the time and effort. Pour your blood, sweat, and tears into what you’re most passionate for…and eventually you’ll see results! One thing I forgot after a while was a lesson I learned as a kid. When you give love to Pro Wrestling, Pro Wrestling will love you back ten fold! And I’ve not felt this much love in a very VERY long time! And just to clarify for you specific Mr. Ecclestone, this ain’t the same type of vain cockiness you exhibit on a daily basis. This is confidence that I’ve EARNED through the years! And it’s the very same confidence that will make me feel superhuman! I promise you Chad Ecclestone, you have NEVER faced any man, woman, or otherwise inside of a professional wrestling ring quite like me. So I truly hope you’re prepared for the single greatest battle of your life. Because the NEXT OWA World Champion sure is!

[[Nas gets up and walks over to his wall of championships hanging in the office. He reaches up and rubs his hand on the empty space that’s currently been reserved for the Omega Wrestling Alliance World Heavyweight Championship. Nasir Moore just makes a wide, confident grin as the camera fades to black.]]

No title. 
One broken nose. 
And at least six missed calls from Hiyori. 

That summed up his night after Olympus finished airing. To say that it sucked was the understatement to end all understatements. He rarely walked during the night and the times that he did were because he was going through emotional turmoil to such a significant degree that sleeping felt impossible. This night was one of those sleepless wander around the streets type of nights. 

Despite having what others called a god complex, Tatsuo could take losses on the chin. The training required for Kyoushin karate was tough for a reason—to cultivate the mind as well as the body; Any traits that would've mutated into sore loser behavior were quickly beaten out of him. Tatsuo also disliked long uninterrupted streaks of victory. In the same way that one would view losing streaks as demoralizing, he viewed winning streaks as sense-dulling temptations. Victory was good, many victories were great, but to be unopposed as a fighter because the competition isn't up to bar is nauseating. The worse thing that could happen to him is for fighting to become boring and not worth his time. 

His reign was around half a year long and every opponent who stepped up to him was soundly beaten—some with more animosity behind his actions than others. From that perspective alone, losing the belt to Ryo should've brought him some kind of solace. It should've if it happened under 'normal' circumstances and not...this one. 

He recalled the events as he walked down the dimly lit sidewalk, his eyes narrowing soon after. 

It was betrayal. Anyone who had half a brain could clearly see that. Ryo sought nothing more to immolate his enemies and take them down with him. Feeling looked over, ignored, and taken advantage of, Ryo turned his flames onto him, destroyed their friendship, and took his belt with him while leaving Tatsuo a broken mess, his match against Graham looming over him like an imposing shadow. It seemed to be well-agreed on that it was a brutal betrayal...yet Tatsuo found himself refusing to acknowledge it as that at all. Hell, he didn't acknowledge what happened at all. 

Thinking about the events left a sour taste in his mouth. It might be because they were still fresh in his mind, it might be because his nose still stung even after it was bandaged, or it might be because they reminded him of memories that he preferred stayed buried. It might even be all of those things. He didn't know and even if others used his betrayal to lambaste Ryo, he didn't know if he could even blame him. His entire philosophy of combat was that every match, no matter how minor, was a game of kill and be killed. How could he blame Ryo for acting on a similar philosophy? 

"Because he wasn't." A voice rang out. "How can you call yourself an Honored One if you're so focused on material attachments, brat?" 

Tatsuo halted in his steps and turned around. He was so focused on everything that happened on Olympus that he failed to realize that he wandered so far away from his hotel that he was now in a park. The only other living thing besides himself was a crow whose beady eyes seemed to bore right through him as it perched itself on a tree branch. A normal person would've simply regarded the voice as mere whispers of the wind or their own spiraling delusions...but he wasn't a normal person. It did not take him long to put one and one together regarding what—or rather, who—that crow was. 

"Quit calling me that. I don't want to hear your shit." came the less-than-amused reply. "What are you even doing here, Sojobo? This isn't Mount Kurama." 

Visual emotional expressions were far harder to recognize on a bird's face than a human's. However, even without visual cues, the disdain that colored Sojobo's tone was palpable. "Idiot. Do you think that I'm barricaded inside of Japan? Besides! With the amount of vessels I have..." He outstretched one of his wings. "I can travel anywhere in the world!" 

Tatsuo glared at him. "So why are you a crow right now, instead of possessing someone like Naoya?" 

"Hmph." Sojobo lowered his wing. "It's rare that I leave Mount Kurama. Normally, I would've used one of my vessels to interact with you but...considering the forces that have invaded that little company you've decided to play around in, I prefer to stay low on their radars while also not risking the vessel's safety." 

"I think they would notice a talking crow before a normal human person." 

"Don't give me that biting tone, brat." Sojobo snapped. "As ridiculous as their name sounds, I take evil forces very seriously." 

It was clear that he was talking about the Profane Covenant. The mountain known as Olympus was not satsified with having one annoying group dominating control of it, the Profane Covenant revealed themselves soon after and since then its been a constant to watch them show up and that soulstone of Darkane's to start going haywire. Now Ryo was affiliated with them too...

Always the observant type, Sojobo noticed the change in Tatsuo's demeanor and decided to swiftly cut the latter off before he could speak. "Your mind is in disarray. The more you allow Sakazaki to overtake the focus, the worse it'll get. You cannot afford to lose your grip." 

"Stop reading my mind." Tatsuo said curtly. Shaking the tree and letting the crow fall to its demise felt all too tempting right now. 

"It is my job, brat." Sojobo then walked across the tree branch. "You have no one to blame but yourself. The moment he betrayed you is when you should've had a tighter hold on him. His soul was corrupted, couldn't you tell?" 

"I don't have the ability to detect malicious beings like you or Naoya." Tatsuo hissed. "I'm not a tengu god or a priest." 

"That still doesn't excuse your lack of common sense. Did you believe that you were going to tame him by utilizing merely words? Weak words at that?" 

Tatsuo clenched his fists. Sojobo could sense the rising tension between them and the heat bubbling in Tatsuo's stomach but rather than shrink away, he continued. He needed the proper scolding anyway. 

"Sakazaki is a brat—worse than you. Inconvenience crosses his path and rather than reflect on himself, he blames others and latches onto his grudges. He is suffering but he enjoys the suffering...even as it causes him to steer away from enlightenment and sends him spiraling into hell. He has all the makings of a power-hungry asura."

"...I wanted to be a better support for him than the World's Finest." Tatsuo admitted quietly after some thought. "I felt that Matsuda and Nobi...they were holding him back on purpose, suppressing him. I thought they didn't understand him like I did. I thought if I won the Icarus title and we broke apart from the World's Finest...then we could change Olympus together. But I—"

"You hesitated." Sojobo interrupted. "I know about your little plot to innovate this place. Naoya dragged you to my temple in what felt like ages ago. You felt as if you had all the cards in hand. If you had this belt, you could be the anchor Ryo could use, the stepping stone to allow him to cultivate his potential. However, your souls suffered dissonance for a slight moment and that slight moment was enough for Ryo to turn on you...but your little plot had no route other than this one. That Sakazaki brat wouldn't have changed because of you. It's a flaw within his nature. If anything, you only added a larger chip on his shoulder."

The crow launched off the tree branch, now keep itself airbone in front of Tatsuo. "He betrayed you and instead of properly disciplining him, you kept trying to reach out to a Ryo that never existed in the first place. In a game of kill or be killed, you hesitated to be the one who kills." 

It was like the wind was taken out of his sails. Once Sojobo finished speaking, Tatsuo merely blew out a sigh as he collapsed onto a bench behind him. As annoying as Sojobo could be...there was no way to really deny what he was saying. "Fuck."

"At least, you recognize what happened. The only question now is—" Sojobo then landed on Tatsuo's shoulder, the crow's beady stare now up close and personal. "What will you do?"

"If that question is coming out of your mouth, then its a trick question." 

Birds couldn't laugh like humans could but the nasally cawing that erupted out of him was definitely the closest thing to it. "Well, I wouldn't say its...entirely a trick question. I told you before: I want you to clean up that promotion through any means necessary. Letting evil forces rampage like that is bad for everyone involved so I'm doing my job as an eliminator of evil...but this fight you have coming up and the betrayal that you're a victim of...I want to know your personal goals." 

Personal goals. 
In other words, Sojobo wants to know what he's going to do. What does he solely want. 
Leaning against the frame of the bench, Tatsuo pondered over his thoughts before speaking.

"...I never joined SSW when it was at its peak but more than anything, I want to be the face of puroresu. I can get back the Icarus but taking the top belt? Even if its for another company, that's something special. Ryo could've won the belt but he lost because he gave in those fires of his. He did fight well...but I can fight better than him." Tatsuo exhaled a deep breath. The fires of betrayal were hot but revenge was a dish best served cold. "I'm going to take that belt and I don't care what he does...I'm going to purge the Flame Emperor until there's nothing left of him."

"That's the spirit! You bounce better easily, brat!" 

"Stop calling me that."

"I appreciate you being a little more self-centered...but this...Profane Covenant is dangerous. You cannot fight them alone and as much as you want to destroy that mountain, you might need to work within its confides for now...which means working with others an—" He immediately pecked Tatsuo's face as the latter rolled his eyes at him. He specifically aimed for his nose which caused Tatsuo to swear loudly as his hands flew to his face. "Anyway, it means that you need something more than your own power."

Tatsuo rubbed the area where Sojobo pecked him. "Which means?"

"Which means it's time for you to act like a Yorishiro for real time." Sojobo said as he moved to Tatsuo's lap. "Before your fight, I will transfer a piece of myself into you. You will be an extension of not only myself but of Son-ten itself. Your body might change but the power you wield will be worth it because...underneath heaven and earth, no mountain will be impossible to conquer, no demon impossible to destroy." He then tilted his head towards Tatsuo, his talons digging into the fabric of his clothes. "Win your match. Purge the evil. Get your revenge. Deal?" 

Tatsuo was silent at first. Then he grinned wildly. "Deal."

"By the way, you'll need to cut your hair."

"What? Why?" 

"It looks like a mop, brat."

Tatsuo wrapped his hands around Sojobo's lanky bird neck and started shaking him. Cawwing and incessant nose pecking be damned.

You said something that caught my interest, Ryo Sakazaki.

Cloud Matsuda is your childhood hero?

No wonder why every time you open your mouth you always sound like a child. Because that's exactly what you are: a child. You're childish. You’re not mature yet and you're certainly having a hard time growing up and that's including your wrestling ability.

That's why every time we stepped in the ring, I always managed to get an upper hand over you.

And that is going to continue after I put you through a table at Dreamworld, Ryo.

…. actually, it doesn't matter if either Matsuda or Brandon Hendrix would be the one that does it to you because you’re still way below them too. Matsuda trained you so she knows your countless weaknesses. And Brandon Hendrix lasted longer than you did too in the Thunderdome match at Final Destination V, so they’re very much capable of eliminating you in this match. Just like how I’m very capable of eliminating you too.

And just so you know, Matsuda and I weren't even planning to face you at Dreamworld. We just didn't know you joined The Profane Covenant, but I considered it as somewhat a reward to kick your ass and put you through a table once again at Dreamworld.

Go ahead, call me The Almighty Nobi or Nobi The Conqueror all you want. And that's the key sentences. “All you want” because you chose to call me that even in a sarcastic manner but it is the truth that I’ve beaten you and The Time Lizard more times than I can even count.

And in a way, you agree with it, Ryo. Maybe rather than agreeing, you can't deny it. I always managed to beat you every time we met and that's just a fact and a truth you’ve to experience because in your words, I’m both The Almighty and The Conqueror. You didn't even try to counter my argument about our matches records because that’s a topic you can't talk about. You can't even twist it because there’s nothing to twist. My winning records against you are just a strong straight line. It’s hard to be broken by you.

And Ryo, you're truly living in your own tiny world. I don't know how many times I’ve spoken about this but I never called myself The White Knight. It is a nick-name that was given by the fans. I never claimed myself to be a good guy, a noble, a pure or anything to those effects. It’s the way how many people see me. I don't claim myself as anything. If so many countless people see me as this kind role-model, I just feel grateful and thankful for the way people see me.

And of course, you’re free to judge me as anything you want, Ryo. Go ahead, judge me all you want, Ryo, because no matter how you see me, no matter what you think of me, my job to you as your opponent is just to kick your ass. Something I've done countless times at this point.

I’ll give you a bit of a break. Yes, maybe I should end you, Ryo. I’ve done it to countless people, including The Professional but we’ll get to him later. But the reason why I don't end your career is not because I can't do it. It’s because it’s very fun to kick your ass over and over again. And now I’m certainly going to have some fun to get you through a table at Dreamworld. I know if I’m the one that happens to eliminate you in this match, I’ll be very willing, happy, and enjoying doing so. But once again, I don't mind if either Matsuda or Hendrix would be the one that eliminated you. As long as the team of Matsuda, Hendrix, and myself win, that's all fine by me. As long as you, The Time Lizard, and Gunner are eliminated, I’ll be satisfied with it. I don't have to be the “main character” in this match.

Ok, since you mentioned The Professional, you always had to mention Reno Dumont. This isn't the first time you tried to talk about this and every time I gave you an answer, it never registered in your head. Well, I suppose it's because you're still a child, no wonder why my words can't get through your thick skull. 

First of all, The Professional was already targeting me before Reno and I formed our tag team. Second of all, while I was trying to get revenge on The Professional, Reno was also trying to capture the Wrestleworld American Dream Title. And even so, we did fight to try to win the Wrestleworld Tag Team Titles a couple of times. It is unfortunate Reno and I never won them but there was no hard feeling from our end……so why are you being so over dramatic about this, Ryo? And that is something that has nothing to do with you anyway. Reno and I are still friends these days. 

And “friends” is the word that you don't know about, Ryo.

I've said it why you’re a treacherous piece of shit. I tried to listen to you and I didn't even hear you bringing up the name of Tatsuo Sakaguchi despite my mentioning his name.

Well, you didn't say anything about Sakaguchi because everything I’ve said about your relationship with Sakaguchi is the truth.

Sakaguchi tried to help you and what did you do? You betrayed him by beating him to win the Icarus Title.

I understand the desire of winning a title, but I don't understand why you had to leave Sakaguchi at all, Ryo. It could have been a friendly competition between friends. You guys could just laugh it off, shook hands, and went to a Bar afterward but no, that wasn't what happened.

What happened was, you once again exposed yourself as a treacherous piece of shit by leaving Sakaguchi and joining The Profane Covenant, Ryo. The group that has obviously a not so good agenda.

And yes, once again, you’re a treacherous piece of shit by getting angry at Matsuda, Ryo. A bullet got you but did Matsuda pull the trigger? No, she didn't. Could you decide to stay away before the match even began? Yes and yes, you fucking could. Matsuda never forced you, me, or anyone to help her out. It was a group of individuals including you and me that decided to help her out. You were walking to the match fully knowing it was going to be a risk considering how dangerous Tres Comas Club are. 

But you know what is funny? For someone who used to call himself The Grinning Demon, for someone who’s claiming that has Demons on your shoulder, for someone who calls himself The Mad Dog, you might want to call yourself a bitch for crying over one tiny bullet.

The so-called Grinning Demon, the so-called Mad Dog are afraid of one tiny bullet? That's very laughable. Maybe you could have died, but as someone who decided to join OWA, you know all the risks we’re signing for. Hell, you risked your life before on Kingdom a couple of years ago when you were part of The Frontline.

Where did that Ryo Sakazaki version go? That Ryo Sakazaki wasn't a bitch, unlike this one.

And another stupid thing you said. Bad Boy Know has had enough of me after I won the SSW Puroresu World Title?

……I won that title in 2020. Bad Boy Know, Maggall, and myself joined force a year later, so what are you talking about? Ah right, a stupid thing. That was what you were talking about, just like every word that came out of your mouth. All of them are stupid and garbage.

Yes, maybe, you should be honored to be verbally slaughtered by yours truly, Ryo.

And one last question to verbally slaughter you once again because you never gave me an answer for this one despite I’ve asked you this countless times:

If you wanted revenge against Matsuda, why did you ask to challenge for the Immortal Heavyweight Title at Final Destination V? Matsuda wasn't in that match at all. It just didn't make sense. Oh well, you lost that match anyway when I managed to eliminate you in that match when I forced you to stop breathing.

And that's also something I’m going to do to you once again at Dreamworld. Matsuda or Hendrix can put you through a table, but I can put you to sleep once again before either Matsuda or Hendrix eliminated you in this Elimination Table match.

And that is why at least I never understood Ryo. Yes, I’m talking to you now, The Time Lizard. Ryo is a big boy and he decided to expose himself as a stupid, idiotic, punk. 

And maybe that's you really are too, The Time Lizard.

If you can change history, if you can control time and space, if you can alter reality and make it your own, why didn't you use those to beat me before? Well, I suppose even if you’re capable of doing those things, my simple wrestling ability is beyond your…..so-called super powers, The Time Lizard.

Not just my wrestling ability. Both Matsuda and Hendrix are obviously great in-ring performers too, so whatever power you have, we will beat you by using our own hands by putting all of you through a table at Dreamworld.

But it is a good thing you’re also in this match, The Time Lizard. You brought up how Tres Comas Club stripped away my Immortal Heavyweight Title and despite you're no longer with them, you were with them when Tres Comas Club took away my title and I’ll be more than happy to beat you….once again at Dreamworld by throwing you to a table.

Maybe both you and Ryo should be more like Gunner. He talks less and does more. Despite joining OWA much later than you both did, Gunner proved himself by beating the sadistic Lazarus Arjen in a brutal match and made it to the top 5 in Olympus' Clash of Titans a few months ago.

But even so, Gunner is part of The Profane Covenant and that makes him an opponent Matsuda, Hendrix, and I need to beat at Dreamworld too. I’ve praised Gunner countless times at this point but he’s certainly someone that we need to beat in this match too. So whatever he wants to do, we will find a way to put him through a table.

I’ll make this clear. The Profane Covenant is dangerous for Olympus but that's why Matsuda, Hendrix, and myself decided to try to stop them at Dreamworld. We’re using this opportunity to try to stop them doing further damage to Olympus.

At least personally I know I’m capable of doing it because once again, I’ve always managed to beat both Ryo Sakazaki and The Time Lizard. That's like killing 2 ducks with 1 bullet. And if I can't eliminate Gunner, I’m sure either Matsuda or Hendrix can do it.

But personally, the 3 of us aren’t going down without a fight. We’re going to go up by putting
 up a fight by winning this match at Dreamworld.

We’re not going down easily. Hope you’re ready, punks.

I'm Done!
OWA Atlantis vs. NAMI



Scene opens at Matsuda's private Dojo seeing Devi Krysis with his head down, cracking her knuckles while sitting down, knowing that she's angry and frustrated after losing to Ayla Rodriguez and Diantha Rosso at Dreamworld in her hometown. And thus her losing streak grew she started to speak on her actions after the match.

“I'm tired…”

Knuckles cracked 

“I'm fucking tired for taking people for granted!”

Video package showed that Devi was frustrated with her loss at Dreamworld she Discus Lariat Stark and knock off NAMI and left them.

“Stark was the motivation to me, basically considering my friend and mentor to me like everyone else! But what did it get me? Hmm? What did it get me?” video showing Devi nails the Discus Lariat to Stark. ”NOWHERE! Absolutely nowhere! No championship, big time matches, ppv, nothing! It got me losses after losses after losses! And it really gets me to the point that I'm done with this shit! I'm done being a punching bag to everyone in this company, and I'm done coaching with OWA veterans, I'm done being partners with anyone cause you know that I'm gonna lose, I'M DONE WITH ALL OF THIS! Many people will cheer for my actions, some will booed me for it quite frankly that I don't give a fuck about anyone thinks! Because I just got fresh off my victory against Immortal Boss herself, Kita Hikari at Kyoto, she knows my history here and her arrogance cost her. Now NAMI will realize that this new attitude that I develop will be a reminder that Devi is done with losing, done taking shit to everyone and I mean everyone! No partners, no coach, none of that shit! The New attitude is gonna carry every championship and success many people will not like it but they gotta learn to love it every day, every week, every month, every fucking years to come!”

”You can breathe, you can cry, you can care! But in reality you're nothing but sheeps to shed some skin on. So NAMI hope you understand that what I did at Dreamworld was nothing personal. I'm done being a loser, and I'm done with everything that I had put up with and you'll find that out when the New Attitude Devi Krysis will put you down, beat you down into submission or tap you out. It's no mercy for you and no mercy for everyone that steps foot against me till then….

”I'm done talking.” 

An aerial view of the aircraft carrier USS Abraham Lincoln, somewhere in the Atlantic. The flight deck is packed with a group of cameramen, reporters with microphones, and crew members, all facing an empty elevated stage with a large podium erected in the middle of it. Their reason for gathering here today is revealed, as an F-22 lands on the runway. The pilot cuts the engines, leaps out of the cockpit, and removes the flight helmet which obscures his face to reveal himself as none other than the greatest professional wrestler of the past decade, maybe ever: Chadwick Xavier Ecclestone. He smiles and waves to the crowd as he walks to the stage, pausing occasionally to shake hands with some of the uniformed servicemen on the way there. Finally, he reaches the stairs leading up the makeshift structure, and a nearby aide hands him the Alpha World Championship, which goes over his right shoulder, and his half of the Tag Team Championships, which goes over his left. Walking up to the podium, he begins his address to the crowd, and the entire nation watching at home.


“You mean The Tribunal?” pipes up one of the reporters assembled in front of the podium.


“The Covenant?” asks another dumbass journalist somewhere in the audience.


A wave of confusion runs through the crowd, as the reporters wonder who Chad could possibly be referring to when he talks about this supposed ‘Terror’ he’s waging war upon. Finally, he shakes his head in disappointment at the audience, takes a deep breath, and begins to enlighten them with his wise words.


He pauses, eyes scanning the audience slowly, taking in the crowd’s reaction before puffing up his chest and continuing with his grand, almost Presidential, speech.


There’s an almost audible sigh of relief from the nervous journos, as Chad clarifies that he’s joking, and that he won’t campaign in – and likely win – the upcoming Presidential elections. The idea of him having his hands on the nuclear codes and finally being able to eliminate the Asiatic menace for all time was a disquieting one to all the peace-loving members of the media assembled here today.


“Speaking of Felix Hartley, do you feel any remorse for ruining her moment in the spotlight? It is, after all, the second time in a year she’d been cashed in on, moments after winning the big gold…” asks some simp loser in the audience.


“And what about the Tag Team Championships you and Noah Krieger won at Dreamworld? Are you at all concerned that your attention will be too divided to successfully hold onto both titles you won at Dreamworld?” asks a very, very disrespectful member of the crowd.


“Any plans for an official team name for yourself and Krieger? Most other tag teams within the industry have one.”


He pauses, and the world pauses with him, the entire crowd not daring to take a breath as his piercing eyes scan over them, looking through them, seeing all their sins and virtues and judging them accordingly.


His grand speech concluded, Chad Ecclestone steps away from the podium as the USS Abraham Lincoln’s anti-aircraft guns begin firing wildly into the sky above, heralding a new era for professional wrestling: at long last, the Omega Wrestling Alliance has gone Hollywood.

With so much chaos happening right now, it’s bound to happen that one would be caught in someone’s shenanigans. 

Now personally, that's not what happened to me….for now. I decided to get involved in this matter because I believe Darkane, Lazarus Arjen, and Jacob Senn can use some help even though I’m also fighting against Tres Comas Club right now.

Yeah, I decided to take a bit of a break from TCC to deal with this satanic cult that called themselves The Profane Covenant because this is something abnormal that I feel like I could contribute to.

This isn't the first time I have dealt with this kind of stuff. Everybody knows who Abholos and Edward E. Sofly are. I was his first opponent out of all people. I was his introduction to this sport which happened in SSW until he eventually made his way to OWA. That was my first time and I wish so bad I managed to beat him in order to prevent him from causing any more chaos that is going to be remembered by future generations for a long time and I can't blame anyone but myself for failing to stop Abholos the moment he introduced himself to this world.

And eventually, there was a time when Babayka controlled me at Wrestleworld too until I broke his….spell if that's what you want to call it and I beat Babayka all by myself despite him having this otherworldly power to try to control me again, but he failed to do so and I managed to kick his ass.

Now, I get that. Neither Babayka nor Abholos are in this match. This is a different kind of otherworldly power because I suppose Asmodeus and Lillith are involved in this faction. 

But guess what? I made God Shenron to grant my wish to revive everyone that died a few years ago when I won my SSW Puroresu World Title.

And not only that, I mentioned that neither Babayka nor Abholos are in this match, but there are Ryo Sakazaki and The Time Lizard. Do you know who they are? They’re two guys that I managed to beat over and over again in countless matches in different countless stipulations.

Regardless of what they call themselves, regardless if they claimed they're different, regardless if they claimed they're new entities right now…..

…..that's some bullshit….

How many times are both The Time Lizard and Ryo Sakazaki going to do this? How many times do I need to either knock them out or make them tap out over and over again?
 
And what's up with their respective masks? People already know both The Time Lizard's and Ryo Sakazaki’s respective faces. People know what they look like. Maybe it’s part of their rituals but to me, the masks they had to wear to cover their faces are….. just for that. Just for that purpose. To cover up their faces. In a much more harsh words, they hid their faces behind the masks because they’re embarrassed of who they are anymore.

Yes, if I had to change my name or claim that I’m a new being for every single chance I get, I would be embarrassed of myself too, cover up my face with a mask, and maybe call myself “the loser” or something along the line.

Let's face it, Ryo…. Lizard….. that's your schtick. That's your habit. The Profane Covenant aren’t going to be the last group that you both are going to be part of.

But if this is going to be your last group….then Cloud Matsuda, Brandon Hendrix, or myself are going to be the reason why The Profane Covenant is going to be your last group for both of you because one of us is going to manage to stop your breath.

It’s actually ridiculous that Matsuda, Hendrix, and myself have to face both of you this soon…..when you both are already aligning yourself with a different group. How many times have you changed your group this year alone? Twice for The Time Lizard? And three times for Ryo Sakazaki? That's actually pretty funny. You both are always seeking something to get something but in the end, you both always end up to be the butt of the jokes of the group. Let's see if you can turn it around this time.

Certainly not at Dreamworld though. Because at Dreamworld, Matsuda, Hendrix, and myself are going to beat The Profane Covenant and also in hope to stop all of you.

I’ll talk to you individually right now.

Let's start with Ryo Sakazaki, shall we? I’m going to be brutally honest with you. Cloud was never the problem. Hell, Tatsuo Sakaguchi was never the problem either. You're the problem. I’ve always said that but this is just another level of how much of a treacherous piece of shit you really are by joining The Profane Covenant right away after you turn yourself on Sakaguchi. Well, that's not truly surprising considering you betrayed your own trainer in Matsuda. So, how long are you going to stay with The Profane Covenant until you blame them for something you cause to yourself this time around? I know you're not going to like what you’re hearing from me right now but I wouldn't be surprised if you leave The Profane Covenant at one point….maybe even until Dreamworld over when you find a way to blame The Time Lizard and Gunner after you get your ass kicked and getting pinned by Matsuda, Hendrix, or myself. Yes, you’re the new Icarus Champ right now. Congrats to you, but Tatsuo Sakaguchi isn't in this match and the last time you and I met in the ring, I knocked your ass out and pinned you 1-2-3 right in the middle of the ring during The Shield and Sword Tournament and I did it with an injured arm. Imagine if I did it with full power, I might have caused a head trauma injury and possibly stop your wrestling career and that's just counting the last time we met one another where I personally kicked your ass, Ryo. How many times did I do that to you? I'm genuinely asking because I genuinely forgot how many times I’ve beaten you over and over again. Well, maybe you can help me to give me the answer but that's ok if you can't. Because I know it’s just too much at this point and it’s tearing you up inside, Ryo. Sorry about that but obviously, I want to kick your ass again at Dreamworld by throwing you to a table.

And that's amazing. The Time Lizard is in the same group with you right now, Ryo. As I said, The Time Lizard is also another name that I always managed to beat and just like Ryo, the last time I met The Time Lizard was also in The Shield and Sword Tournament where I kicked his ass and pinned him 1-2-3 too. And of course, I want to do it again at Dreamworld, The Time Lizard. I’m going to give you a little break though, you saw it coming Tres Comas Club were going to turn on you, didn't you? But that's also my point. Why did you join them in the first place to begin with? And even if you saw it coming that Tres Comas Club were going to kick you out, why did you join The Profane Covenant right away? What makes it going to be different this time? As I said, you happened to always be the butt of the joke of the group, just like Ryo is. And let's face it, a few years ago, you were leading your own tribe and…..what happened? They just disappeared. Why? Maybe because they thought you were too much of a joke as their leader? That's the most likely reason, Lizard. Yes, I decided to call you The Time Lizard because of your….transformation but that's at least for appearance only because I know deep down inside, you’re still Reginald Dampshaw III. And Dampshaw is always someone that I managed to beat and this time isn't going to be different either, The Time Lizard. Sure, you managed to overpower me in our brawl before, but that was just a brawl where there was no official winner. Well, just like always, I’m going to be the official winner along with Matsuda and Hendrix at Dreamworld because just like always, I’m going to kick your ass….again by throwing you to a table.

Yes, all I’m saying is that both The Time Lizard and Ryo Sakazaki still suck.

But I realized there’s still one opponent that I haven't addressed properly because I don't have much history with Gunner yet but I know not only did he make it to the top 5 final of Olympus’ Clash of Titans, but also he managed to beat Lazarus Arjen in a brutal match….and Arjen himself is a brutal individual, so I know how brutal Gunner can be. Maybe I haven't even seen his best version of him yet but this is what makes pro wrestling exciting isn't it? To get to know the unknown. And something makes me wonder. If he can beat a sadistic individual like Lazarus Arjen in a violence match, why did Gunher feel the need to join The Profane Covenant? What does he want with this group actually? Well, I don't think it matters right now but Gunner is part of this and therefore, I also need to make sure to stop him just like I always did it to both Sakazaki and The Time Lizard. I’m going to say, for the short time since you arrived at Olympus, you’re a great in-ring performer by making an impact in a short time. But I’ll tell you what, you’re in the wrong boat and I’m going to be your compass to bring you to the right way by kicking your ass and beating The Profane Covenant. Matsuda, Hendrix, and myself are going to prove that we’re going to win at Dreamworld. We’re going to throw all of you to a table.

I believe The Profane Covenant aren't going to stop at Dreamworld yet but I personally always welcome a good old-fashioned hard hitting fight and I believe that is what is going to happen in this match. And I believe Matsuda, Hendrix, and myself can win this match too. 

Especially with 2 individuals as my opponents that I have beaten countless times in the past. Maybe you all can make this difficult but certainly, you’re going down at Dreamworld when Matsuda, Hendrix, and myself win this match.

And as I said, we’ll welcome another fight and war another day too if you all want another beating.

But this time around, it’s time for the 3 of you to be put through a table. Just a beating isn't enough.

Do you smell that? Do you smell the iron stench of blood in the air? Do you feel the moment right before the storm approaches? Everyone speaks about the calm before the storm, but it’s really the scent before the storm I’ve always found to be interesting. The faint smell of the rain right before it drops onto your face, it is a visceral memory in my mind and right now, that’s where we stand because ladies and gentlemen, the storm is quickly approaching. A storm promising nothing but destruction and chaos for a world I hold so dear and it is in the form of The Profane Covenant.

However, I’m getting ahead of myself because there are some who might not even know why we are here, so let me open the storybook and allow you a view of the tale which has been woven by the sinners of this world. Not too long ago, I held the richest prize in professional wrestling in my hands: the Immortal Heavyweight Championship. I vanquished the seemingly unstoppable Darkane, I conquered the crowned prince in Remington Ivory Prescott, and I stood above them both with the right to be known as immortal. However, The Devil on RIP’s shoulder had other intentions when Mark Michaels rushed down the ramp to attempt to cash his Ascension to the Heavens briefcase against me, he assaulted Michaels, The Devil assaulted me, and lo and behold RIP’s name is in the contract. Of course this would be the way RIP would regain his championship because any method of gaining a championship through honor, valor, prestige? You can throw that out the window because all RIP can do is cheapen a legacy I made worth something. Chaos ensued—a chaos that has now become a familiar guest in our world of Olympus. With this upheaval, the new threat of The Profane Covenant emerged with men wearing masks to hide their true faces because of the shame they possess for what they are doing. Playing as demons under the guidance of entities known as Lilith and Asmodeus to transform the world I had built into nothing more than a mere wasteland over which they could rule. Funny, right? These people wish to perform the task I had set out for myself years ago because of the broken ego and pride I had regarding the standing of The Dynasty and here we are, set upon the same cycle again. As one of my old friends once said, time is a flat circle and this Profane Covenant is definitely allowing those words to ring true.

After the night where RIP stole the Immortal Heavyweight Championship from me, I had a choice and needed to make a decision. I could claim my rightful rematch against RIP to claim the championship I should have never lost, or I could delay this match for the championship to allow Mark Michaels the opportunity to achieve what he has worked countless years to achieve in becoming world champion. In the face of this, I decided to make the right choice and the only option which would sit right with me in my soul: delay my rematch and allow Mark Michaels the opportunity he richly deserves. Why? As funny as it might sound coming from me, the immediate gratification of personal glory must be set aside for the greater cause: the safety and integrity of Olympus. Instead of pursuing the acclaim of world championship splendor, I chose to stand against the encroaching evil and find a way to quell the raging storm before it wrecks its full havoc upon my brand. My legacy.

I have worked since the very first day Olympus was broadcast throughout the world to make sure it was the greatest brand of professional wrestling you could find. I have worked day in and day out for the past fifteen years of my career to make sure I have created a body of work to outlast me for years to come. I have wanted nothing more than to be the greatest to ever lace up a pair of boots and stand inside of the ring, the best to have been able to call myself a wrestler, and carry the prestige of championship glory on my shoulder. This is what I have labored with my own sweat, blood, and tears for over a decade to become a pillar of this industry and this Profane Covenant only seeks to bring desecration and destruction to everything I have done. Jason Long has been touted as one of the best in this business, one of the men who are pushing the envelope and making his name to be the present greatest of all time, but all I have ever seen from this man is bitter disappointment after disappointment. He walked into Kingdom with everyone singing his praises, everyone pulling from him to become the OWA World Champion and the moment he has claimed the title in his possession, what does he do? He flounders the opportunity. He fumbles at the very first defense. The trademark failure for a wrestler who is all hype, and no substance. That’s the difference between Jason Long and myself because while he flounders in that stage, I thrive in it. I dream of it. I crave it. The challenge and desire to put every other wrestler to shame when they stand in the ring with me, it is the driving force to why I proceed to fight in this industry because defeating the best, showing hailed stars of today can’t touch me inside of those ropes, it makes my legacy even greater to the point where there will never be anyone who deny my legacy. My name as the best will remain undeniable. You? As soon as you capture gold, you simply discard it because the chase and hunger is what drives you like a common street dog.

However, that’s what caused your arrival to Olympus and to cost me my Immortal Heavyweight Championship. You came to not simply shock the world and let them know you’ve hopped onto Olympus, but you saw me as a man who could thrive with gold on his shoulder and it just ate you alive from the inside. Watching from afar, you had this simmering rage building inside of you because you were watching a man you believe to be past his prime having the moments you were due. Holding the championship you were owed. Sitting upon a throne you had felt was your birthright. You made a declaration of war, a war on my legacy and Olympus entirely, this Covenant to see the ruin and destruction of everything I have worked to build for this industry and you may find ruin through this quest—your own ruin through blind ambition. The Profane Covenant has made a promise to destroy his pillar of the wrestling world, but you may have forgotten something very important in your rush to achieve this ambition. In your vanity and greed, you have forgotten about a sentinel who guards the sanctity of the ring and Olympus from the destruction you seek to inflict upon it. You fail to realize the legacy this brand holds as a testament to the spirit of true fighters in this sport who fight not simply for championship glory, but for the greater passion for this sport which I find lacking in the eyes of The Profane Covenant. For you are not driven by the passion of this sport, you are driven by the rumbling in your belly. You are driven by the thirst scratching against your throat. You are driven by the lust rushing through your veins. Animalistic urges simmering underneath you until you can no longer control them, the sin craving to be released from your body to be inflicted upon those you view to be the cause of your struggle, and how do I know this?

For I was once the vessel of Belial, the most vile name to walk through these halls, and I sought the same destruction this Profane Covenant seeks. You should know the path does not end with the satisfaction you seek. Your hunger… your thirst… your lust… it only becomes even more maddening than it was when the excruciating defeat you are met with arrives.

Many have waited for this moment where we would be forced to do battle between each other and to be honest with you, I had been awaiting this moment myself. Everyone spoke about the great Jason Long who had appeared in OWA, the man who had everyone speaking about how he would be a future world champion and stand as one of the best here in the company, and I was almost fooled into believing you to be the sort of person I would actually enjoy to stand across the ring from. I saw what you became and it changed my perspective on you. Failure, apathy, you allowed yourself to fall between the cracks of the wrestling world because you were no longer entertained with being the man on top of the mountain. You didn’t believe you had to work hard while carrying the rich crown of the world championship and everything would be what you dreamed of, but there are always people waiting to take the throne from you and you? You weren’t prepared. Against one of my most storied rivals in Stark, you crumbled underneath the pressure and allowed him to claim that championship from you and proved you weren’t a true champion. Even now, you proceed to prove you aren’t truly a champion. You succumb to your base nature at the drop of a hat, but a true champion? He stands a beacon for the future. Someone who fights with honor and integrity, even when the odds are stacked against them, and obviously this is not the path you have chosen.

This is a fact you should know well, Jason, because as you align yourself with shadows and schemes, I stand here, tempered by battles both lost and won, ready to face you not just as an opponent, but as a herald of what a true champion embodies. Let's be clear, Olympus isn’t just another brand of wrestling to me—it is home to the fighters who carry the traits of perseverance, who possess the fighting spirit, and desire a championship such as the Immortal Heavyweight Championship demanding respect from not just its champion, but the entire sport as a whole. When you speak of Olympus and the chaos you intend to unleash, you challenge the very essence of what many of us have fought to uphold. What I have fought to uphold and establish in the foundation for what this entire company has been founded upon. I may not be the man who is recognized as a founder for this company, but I’m the one who has remained the constant of this company and its standard bearer. If anything, I have fought and devoted myself to this company with fierce loyalty more than anyone else could say towards that fact. You can stand there with pride in your heart, revel in the prospect of destroying this brand I have worked to create, but I’ve been in the trenches of this industry to rebuild what I had broken as Belial’s vessel. I have been doing everything in my power to rectify the mistakes, mine included, and fighting for the redemption of an entire legacy. This isn’t about gaining another notch on my belt by defeating you in the middle of the ring, but it’s about the responsibility I bear on my shoulders and devoted myself to carrying. The responsibility to be the one who stands as the guardian, the responsibility to make sure every fighter on this brand can become the best version of themselves they can be, and every fan is able to watch the best wrestling in the entire world instead of a chaotic mess you hope to bring forth with the wasteland you promise.

Here we stand at the precipice of this storm rolling into Dreamworld, I can feel the blood rushing through my veins, but it is not the lust of fame or gold driving me. It is the simmering rage for vengeance coursing through my veins, the desire to vanquish the evils of those who stand for the banner of destruction and ruin as Belial did, it is the wrath ready to be provided to the one who cost me my redemption. Through costing me the Immortal Heavyweight Championship and proceeding to make sure to bring chaos whenever you arrive onto Olympus, you have made a critical error in your strategy: you underestimated the resolve of The Punisher as a man who has nothing left to lose in the ring with you and everything to gain by standing up against you and your Profane Covenant in your question for destruction.

You can wear the mask of harbinger, creators of a new beginning, purifiers of the slate air, and truthsayer of the real foundations of this industry. You can prophesy about the end you intend to deliver upon the world of Olympus, but where I stand shows us a beginning. A beginning where the Profane Covenant is met with resistance, a beginning where the soul of this very brand is fought for, and a beginning where the true champions of this industry rise not from the ashes of those who have fallen from the great battle to be made, but from the relentless pursuit of prestige we have devoted ourselves to delivering to Olympus. Even though you may wish to break the spirits of those who will stand against you, let me assure you my spirit will not be dismantled by the cheap tactics or the masked threats you have made here in the past. I have been forged in the fires of adversity you would only be able to buckle and submit against. I have honed my skills through clashes against the greatest giants and warriors this industry has ever laid their eyes upon. I have sharpened my mind in the shadows of doubt where in the moments when I believed there was no chance and when the boots were calling for me to hang them up, I cast those thoughts away as lies to make sure I enter into the ring with the indomitable will my reputation has become known for. You can aim to destroy this brand, you can hope to bring men like me to their knees to grovel in submission to the Profane Covenant’s demands, but I stand before you ready to defend what I have built with every fiber of my being! As you have faltered when the spotlight of world champion has been placed upon you, the Profane Covenant will falter in its quest of destruction against the indomitable will I possess and those who stand with me against you. Those who believe in the sanctity of the ring, those who possess the spirit of true champions, and those who will not allow the legacy of Olympus and the crown of the Immortal Heavyweight Championship to be tarnished by the demons of the Profane Covenant any further.

As Dreamworld approaches just around the corner and will be here before you know it, remember these words I have provided to you, Jason Long: this match will not be everything you had dreamed it would be. My rage has been stirring and simmering with my veins for too long to allow this to proceed past Dreamworld. The storm approaches, but it is not this storm of violent destruction and desolate ruination this Profane Covenant dreams to realize. It is a storm of wrath and fury, ready to destroy the thief who snatched the crown from Olympus’ immortal guardian, and show the entire world what a true champion truly is. This match between us will be a crucible in which the true essence of our souls will be tested as we are plunged into the fires of adversity once more. The burning sensation the flames of hardship lick against my skin during wars of this magnitude is where I thrive. I will show you this lion isn’t close to its end yet, but the beast who can wade through the shadows of evil and find the strength to prevail where only this ordeal can provide. I don’t expect this to be a simple task and know you will provide me with a battle the entire world will be on the edge of their seats to see play out, but when the dust settles? When the echoes of our clash fade into history and memory? When the bell has rung when all is said and done? There will be no doubt, no lingering shadow, no thread to hang onto for salvation from the end. I will walk out of Dreamworld not simply victorious against you, but vindicated for what you have done unto me.

This quiet thing known as rage has been simmering into my blood for a long time now with you. It has been lying in wait for the moment where I can finally have you in the ring without another soul to interfere in the business we must deal in. Dreamworld will be where I give into the wrath and where many would hope to provide you with mercy, there will be none from me. Defeating you, Jason Long, and putting an end to the threats you and the Profane Covenant have made will be my mission and when I am finished with that, the Immortal Heavyweight Championship will return to me. This is my promise, my vow, and unbreakable oath.

Do everyone a favor and admit the defeat coming at Dreamworld. Surrender to the fate you have created for yourself. Remind the world what you have done at every single chance the spotlight has been placed upon you, Jason. Let your lasting memory in this match be what your eternal legacy is.

Your failure.

Early morning sunlight filtered through the sheer curtains of the opulent bedroom. The space, adorned with intricate woodwork and plush furnishings, radiated an aura of luxury. In the center of the room stood a full-length mirror. The polished surface reflected the image of Brody admiring his near-perfect physique, which suggested years of dedication and discipline had been invested in its pursuit.
 
They hadn’t, but that’s what it looked like.
 
His wavy hair was tousled, adding a rugged charm, and his piercing blue eyes sparkled with a mixture of confidence and self-assurance. With a satisfied grin, he flexed his muscles, admiring the way they rippled beneath his tanned skin. He ran a hand through his hair, adjusting it just so, before stepping back to take in his reflection once more.
 
“Heading out?”
 
“Oh my God.”
 
“Huh? What did you say?”
 
“You heard.”
 
“I don’t, uh… I thought…”
 
“Listen, this just ain’t gonna work if I don’t feel completely comfortable bailing whenever I want to for any reason whatsoever and for an extended period of time, you know?”
 
“No, I don’t.”
 
“The last woman who tried tying me down, Satomi… well, I knew her as Kuniko. Actually, she was my lotus flower, and I was her Kureijī Kintama. What we had was special, but—"

 
“I have no idea what’s going on right now.”
 
“See, that’s the problem, isn’t it? It’s all about you. ‘I have no idea what’s going on,’ ‘I won’t have sex with you without a condom.’”
 
“Is that seriously what this is about?”
 
“It’s just the lack of trust. That’s what gets to me, you know? But I took the damn condom, doesn’t that show how much I’m into you?”
 
“I mean, I guess, but… wait, what do you mean ‘took’ it?”
 
“The fuck you think it means? Took me like four bottles of water, bro.”
 
“Are you serious?”
 
Brody was too enamored by his reflection in the mirror to answer.
 
“So, let me get this straight: not only were you not wearing a condom last night, but you’re saying you’ve never worn a condom in your life?”
 
“Worn? Sydney, sweet baby girl, what the fuck are you talking about?”
 



Wyatt was sitting at the desk of his study when Brody hobbled into his office with a black eye and a broken nose. Over a week had passed since the old man had last seen his son.
 
“What on earth has happened to you?” Wyatt smirked.
 
“Me? Nothing, why?”
 
“What do you mean ‘why’? Look at the state of you.”
 
“Oh, this? It’s nothing. Just a difference of opinion with Mel Gibson. Well, his secret little club, more like. Fuckin’ pussies. Took like five of them to take me down. Pricks.”
 
“Mel? What was your disagreement with him?”
 
“Well, apparently, he hates women, but he’s all about safe sex. Who knew?”
 
“Are you talking about the Misogynist Council?”
 
“You know about it?”
 
“Of course I do; I’m in it,” Wyatt laughed derisively. “But those island retreats are just about stroking each other’s cocks instead of getting things done. I’ve no time for that sort of business. Indulge yourself, by all means, but no one needs to go to a private island to do that. How did you end up there, anyway?”
 
“Long story.”
 
“You met Mark Wahlberg in a strip club bathroom?”
 
“Okay, it’s a short story, but loads of stuff happened before that, too.”
 
“Do you have any drugs left from what I gave you?”
 
“From what you gave me? No, but I still gotta couple of loosies in my pocket, I think. You want in?”
 
“No, thank you,” said Wyatt, returning to his work.
 
Brody made his way over to the bar. He slowly reached his arm out while peering sideways to see if his dad was watching him. Wyatt’s eyes remained fixed on his computer screen.
 
“Is that wise?” asked the old man. “Bourbon, at 10:30 am? Aren’t you going to at least pretend to prepare for a world championship?”
 
“It’s all good, bro. Still got like ten days.”
 
“Five.”
 
“Ten business, I mean.”
 
“That doesn’t make any sense.”
 
“Fine, I’ll go to the gym now.”
 
“Are you in any fit state to be training?”
 
“Best shape of my life, bro. Feeling good, sleeping well, and I’m on a 100% beef-fed beef diet. I’m ready to go, dude.”
 
“Well, glad to hear it. Get to it, then.”
 
Brody downed the liquor he believed he had covertly poured himself before heading towards the exit.
 
“Oh,” he said, pausing at the door. “You spoke to the big guys at Olympus recently? Like, Allesandro’s old man, an’ shit?”
 
“No,” Wyatt quickly replied. “Why?”
 
“Just… on the flight back from the Caribbean, I saw all the stuff that happened on Olympus after I left. What the fuck is going on, bro? Remember when bad guys were named shit like Hitler? Mussolini? Obama? Now it’s fuckin’ Asmodeus and Lillith and Belial. Swear to God, dude, I’m suing that British cunt, too. Time Lizard? I sent that script to Disney when I was six years old, but it got rejected for graphic sexuality. Dude was probably working there at the time an’ stole it. Can’t trust those fuckin’ lobsterbacks, bro.”
 
“I’m sure it’s all under control.”
 
“Okay, well, just make sure those fuckin’ nerds stay away from me, or else I’m going to Kingdom. Although it’s not much better over there. Everyone walkin’ on eggshells around Softly, not wanting to upset the manager. Dude needs to change his name already.”
 
“Change his name?”
 
“N-word Softly? Bro, it’s 2022, and he’s got a name like a Mark Twain character.”
 
“It’s 2024, and his name is Edward.”
 
“I don’t want to hear excuses. Racism is bad, ok?”
 
“Ok.”
 
“Right, good. I’m glad we got that straightened out.”
 



Two hours later, Brody was still at his parents' house. 


Lupe, the 72-year-old Guatemalan housekeeper, had made pancakes, and Brody thought that if she’d gone through that much trouble, then she’d probably be willing to make him chicken and waffles, too. It never even entered his mind that she was contractually obligated to do so. As he was finishing up the giant meal at the breakfast bar, his older brother Danny walked into the kitchen.
 
“What up, homo?”
 
“Dude, dude, listen to this,” Brody said, barely able to contain his laughter. “Lupe, tell Danny where your son lives.”
 
“Arizona,” she replied, full of apathy.
 
“Arizona, dude! How do they think of these names, the crazy Mexican bastards!”
 
“You’re fucking retarded.”


“You and what army?”
 
“What the fuck are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be preparing for Allesandro?”
 
“That’s where I’m going now, dude.”
 
“Nervous?”
 
“Why would I be nervous?”


"He beat you last time, didn't he?" 


“Yeah, so?”
 
“So, what if he beats you again?”
 
“Not gonna happen, bro. This time he’s gettin’ got. Gettin’ got while the gettin’s good. You see, I’m all about takin’ care of business, you get me? That’s my business. An’ business is good.”
 
“The fuck you saying, Spasimodo?”
 
“Gimme a ride to the gym, Dildo Gaggins.”
 
“I’m here to see Dad. About actual business. How did you get here?”
 
“Stu gave me a ride, but bro was wasted.”
 
“Get an Uber, then.”
 
“Oh, you want me to be raped?”
 
“Ughhhhh, good point. Gimme an hour, and I’ll take you.”
 
Three hours later, Brody finally sauntered into the gym with a belly full of cheesy pasta, courtesy of Lupe once again. Usually a place of rejuvenation, the gym’s atmosphere felt stifling. His reflexes were dulled, and his mind fogged by the effects of a week-long bender. It wasn’t long before he was in the bathroom, emptying the contents of his stomach into the toilet bowl.
 
Though, the more he worked out, the better he felt.
 
By the time he was taking an ice bath, his senses had recovered. The chill from the frigid water seeped into his skin, sending shivers down his spine. His chest rose and fell in steady breaths. Brody's eyes were closed, and his mind focused on the sensations coursing through him. Images of Allesandro's flashy entrances and the egotistical bravado steeled his resolve.
 
With each passing moment, Brody's focus sharpened. He visualized the fight, anticipating Allesandro's moves and formulating his own strategies. The icy water seemed to invigorate him, reminding him of his toughness and resilience. His mind then drifted back to that morning on the beach when Nat’s words comforted him after his defeat to Allesandro.
 
Then, one of those quirks the universe seems to cough up every now and then appeared by way of text message.
 
“Good luck.”
 
Seven months without a word had felt colder than the water in which he was currently submerged. Brody dried his hands on the nearby towel and grabbed his phone, bringing it closer to his face to make sure it was definitely her and not Nate.
 
It was her.
 
The cadence of his breathing quickened. He was careful not to open the message, alerting her that he had seen it, without knowing exactly what he wanted to say.
 
“Thx,” was his eventual reply, although the temptation to spill his heart out was unbearable.
 
That was all that was said, yet Brody strode through the San Diego evening with purpose.
 



“It’s my shoulder, doc,” said Brody, grabbing his right shoulder with his left hand.
 
“I see. Can you describe it?”
 
“Uhh, sure,” replied Brody, his expression turning from agitation to confusion. “I guess it’s, like, where my arm attaches to my body? Didn’t you go to medical school, bro?”
 
“The pain. Describe the pain. Is it localized or radiating?”
 
“Speak English, doc.”
 
“Is it just in your shoulder, or can you feel the pain all the way down your arm?”
 
“Oh, just the shoulder.”
 
“Okay, it's probably just bursitis. Nothing too serious; you just need to ice it and rest it for a few days.”
 
“But I’m facing Allesandro in three days, dude!”
 
“Then why were you going so hard?”
 
“Dad said, ‘No pain, no gain.’”
 
“That’s not at all true.”
 
Brody shrugged his shoulders, causing him to wince.
 
“Fuck! You got any painkillers?”
 
“I’m a Physical Therapist; I can’t prescribe medication.”
 
“Whatever, I got some somewhere. Have a look in that bag over there for me?”
 
The therapist rummaged around Brody’s gym bag until he felt something sticky.
 
“What the hell?” he said, pulling his hand out. He was gripping a small bottle, the top of which had come off.
 
“Oh shit.”
 
“What?”
 
“Uhh, nothing.”
 
“Brody…”
 
“It’s nothing, dude,” Brody laughed nervously. “Don’t worry about it. Hey, just out of curiosity, you ever had hallucinogens?”
 
“Is that what this is?”
 
“It’s not what it’s not.”
 
“What?”
 
“Okay, I’m gonna be real with you, bro; that is a new synthetic drug that my buddy made in his bathtub. He said it’s transdermal, which means—”
 
“I know what transdermal means, you fucking imbecile. Just tell me what’s going to happen.”
 
“Well, there’s good news and bad news. It’s super potent, which means things are about to get weird real quick.”
 
“Oh fuck! Shit! What’s the good news?”
 
“Oh, that was the good news. The bad news is that you owe me $80.”
 
“Oh my God, I think I’m—”
 
“Yeah, good luck with all that,” said Brody, hopping off the exam table. He quickly left the room as the PT began spiraling into drug-induced psychosis.
 
Brody used his left hand to steer the beat-up Jeep his father had bestowed upon him for his 18^th birthday. By now, it was practically a family heirloom. The ache in his shoulder was dull and heavy; he had no idea how he would pack his gear for North Carolina without help.
 
As he pulled up to his beachfront apartment, the universe spoke to him once again.
 
“Are you home?” read the text.
 
“Yeah,” he replied quickly.
 
“Can I stop by?”
 
“Sure!”
 
Brody raced up the steps to his apartment, the pain in his shoulder seemingly forgotten. He stumbled over the protruding edge of one of his surfboards, although he managed to retain his balance. The place was a mess; he stuffed empty bags of chips and soda cans into the trash as quickly as he could while also rounding up all the articles of clothing strewn about the floor and furniture.
 
Five minutes later, there was a knock at the door.
 
Mouthwash and cologne helped Brody mask the scent of the gym. As he gripped the handle, he took a deep breath. That breath was immediately taken away when he saw Nat standing, as beautiful as the day he first saw her, on his porch.
 
Except…
 
“What the fuck?”
 
Brody’s gaze was drawn to the curve of her belly, which was growing with life. Despite the hardship of pregnancy, she had a glow about her. With a tentative smile, she took a step forward, closing the distance between them. Her simple yet elegant dress swayed gently in the ocean breeze.
 
“Can I come in?”
 
“Are you, uh…”
 
“Yes.”
 
“And is it—”
 
“Yes.”
 
“Right,” Brody gulped. “How far?”
 
“Eight months.”
 
“Still four to go, then.”
 
Nat smiled. Despite everything he had done and her bitterness about how things ended, she still found his foolishness oddly endearing.
 
“So, you gonna let me in, cunt?”
 
“Oh, right, yeah,” said Brody, stepping aside.
 
Nat sat at the small table that, moments ago, was a laundry repository. She would have preferred to sit on the couch, but she did not want to get too comfortable and was afraid that she might need Brody’s help to get up from it.
 
“Can I get you a drink?”
 
“Do you have any tea?”
 
“Tea?” scoffed Brody. “I got beer; you want a beer?” he asked, which was met with a raised eyebrow. “Water?”
 
“Sure.”
 
Brody grabbed a bottle of water and a tall boy from his fridge. Nat looked at him skeptically as he sat down opposite her.
 
“What? I’m not pregnant.”
 
“I thought you’d be more surprised.”
 
“Not my first rodeo.”
 
“I was more talking about the fact we used condoms.”
 
“Yes. That’s right. I wore them. On my cock.”
 
“Why did you emphasize that word?”
 
“No, I’m not.”
 
“You’re not what?”
 
“Acting sus.”
 
“I never said you were.”
 
“Good, because I’m not.”
 
“I'm not here to demand anything from you, Brody.”
 
“No?”
 
“No, I just thought you had a right to know.”
 
“You could’ve told me sooner.”
 
“I was going to tell you in Philly. I was there, you know. The night you lost to Poet. I was going to surprise you.”
 
“Oh.”
 
“When your dad told me where you’d been and what you’d been doing – or, rather, who you’d been doing - I was heartbroken. I wanted to be angry with you, and I was. But I was more angry with myself.”
 
“Really?”
 
“Mmhmm,” she replied ruefully. “You’re a manchild, Brody. Maybe you care about others, but you care about yourself too much. I could see that from the moment I met you, and I still let myself get close to you. I told myself we were just having fun hooking up. I was so naïve.”
 
“I was falling for you, too,” he said. “I mean, I did. I still do.”
 
“You dropped off the face of the earth and turned up a month later at a drug-fueled orgy in an ancient Amazonian village.”
 
“You can make anything sound bad if you say it in a shitty tone.”
 
“You hurt people, Brody. That’s why I don’t want anything from you, but you ought to know.”
 
“So, you’re not here to…”
 
“What, get back together? No,” she laughed, breaking eye contact. “There’s… something else.”
 
“You’re seeing someone.”
 
“Yeah.”
 
“Does he know about me?”
 
“Yes.”
 
“And?”
 
“And what?”
 
“He’s ok with raising another man’s baby?”
 
“Well, he’s asked me to marry him, so I guess so.”
 
“And you’ve said yes?”
 
“Not yet, but I will.”
 
“Why haven’t you?”
 
“I honestly don’t know,” she said. “It just… didn’t feel right. But I figure after this, it will.”
 
“You don’t want to," Brody smiled. "If you did, you would’ve said yes already.”
 
“It doesn’t matter. What happens between me and Josh has no bearing on you and me.”
 
“Josh? As in—"
 
“No, no,” she interrupted. “He’s just a regular person.”
 
“With a gay-ass name.”
 
Nat could not hide her smirk.
 
“I’ve missed you.”
 
“You dropped off the face of the earth and turned up a month later at a drug-fueled orgy in an ancient Amazonian village.”
 
“Yeah, you’ve said that. You just gonna keep throwing that in my face?”
 
“I will never move past that, Brody. I respect myself too much to ever let you back into my life. But you can be part of our son’s life... if you do some growing up.”
 
“Our… son?”
 
Nat nodded. The tears welling up in Brody’s eyes warmed her heart.
 
“Have you, uh, got a name for him?”
 
“Josh.”
 
Brody’s heart sank. He was struggling for words until Nat began laughing.
 
“Very funny.”
 
“Sorry, but I owed you that one, at least.”
 
“Ha, yeah. You cooked me.”
 
“No one cucked anyone. You bailed.”
 
“What? No, cooked, as in,” Brody imitated a flamethrower, spittle flying everywhere, “not cucked - although, my son might end up calling another person dad...”
 
“That’s up to you, Brody,” said Nat, standing from her chair. “I should get going; I’m sure you’ve got stuff to do. When are you leaving for North Carolina?”
 
“Tonight.”
 
“We’ll be watching.”
 
“We?”
 
“Yeah,” blushed Nat awkwardly. “Josh is actually a fan of yours.”
 
“Bro, that’s so fucking weird.”
 
“It’s messed up, I know. He actually wanted to come here with me.”
 
“Never – and I’ve never been more serious about anything in my life – ever bring him here.”
 
“I understand,” she said, leaning into Brody's embrace. “You remember what I said to you on the beach that morning, right?” she whispered in his ear. “Don't be afraid, Brody. What do you want? You.”


After she left, Brody collapsed on his couch. He stayed there until his ride to the airport showed up.

[[The camera opens up to Nas’ school, the Best Wrestling Academy, where Nas can be seen working out with a plethora of his students. However they all stop when Nas calls for them to all huddle around him so he may speak with them.]]

Aight y’all I’m sure you’ve all heard the news. I’m going to be stepping back into the ring for the celebration of OWA’s Six Year Anniversary.

[[All of his students and staff at the Academy begin to applaud as he motions with his hands for them to simmer down so he may speak once more.]]

And this one is a very big deal for me personally. As you all know I was in the very first OWA main event all that time ago in 2018. I came up short on that night. I missed out on a golden opportunity. I missed out on the chance to be the first man to hold what would go on to become the richest prize in all of our profession. The Omega Wrestling Alliance World Championship. Instead a dear friend and peer of mine, a fellow legend in this business Finnegan Wakefield got the honor of holding the big gold and setting the standard for the greatest championship in Professional Wrestling today! And that is a wrong that I plan to right. Not saying it’s wrong that Finn held it. But that it’s a wrong for me personally that I fell short and couldn’t compete for that distinction myself. Instead, I went on to create the Omega Heavyweight Championship and the Olympus brand. Now don’t get me wrong folks. I am incredibly proud to see how far the Blue Brand has come since those humble beginning days. And in the end it may have been for the greater good of OWA as a whole that the events played out in this manner…but god damnit do I really REALLY want to get that monkey off my back finally! I don’t just want to finally get my name down as an OWA World Champion…I don’t just have to claim that title that’s alluded me for so long…I NEED TO FINALLY GET MY NAME ETCHED ONTO THE RECORD BOOKS AS SOMEONE WHO’S HELD THAT CHAMPIONSHIP TITLE BELT!

[[All of those present within the Best Wrestling Academy in Atlanta begin to applaud once again as Nas lets them get their excitement out before coughing to get their attention once more.]]

Many of the all time greats throughout the history of the Omega Wrestling Alliance have laid claim to holding onto the promotion’s namesake championship…except for me. That list of names is a who’s who of OWA’s history, past present, and pushing ever further into the future. Peers of mine that I matured alongside in this industry such as Finnegan Wakefield, Scott Oasis, Aria Jaxon, Kenny Drake, Moongoose McQueen, Stark and Azumi Goto. Those that I had the pleasure of watching mature into top stars such as Jeff X, Christopher Sabertooth, Jason Long, Michael Bishop, and Arata Asakura. DT the Ruler, a man who I crossed paths with in the infancy of my career even returned to Pro Wrestling to claim the big belt. And most recently the new era now holds a firm grip on the most sacred title we’ve ever created. First it was Rebecca Filth pushing the boundaries through blood, sweat, and tears…but she’s not the current champion. No now the richest prize in the game finds itself slung along the shoulder of one Chad Ecclestone. 

[[Nasir takes a deep breath and runs his hand down his face, wiping some sweat away from his forehead before he continues on further.]]

Chad is a man that the younger Nas would probably have dismissed. It’s more than likely I would not have respected Chad Ecclestone. I would have wanted to know exactly what Chad wanted out of our industry. Why he was forcing himself into our world. And exactly how was he going to ditch all of us, turn his back on all of this…once he got what he was looking for. But the new Nas. The older, wiser, and calmer Nas…I hold no grudges or ill will towards Mr. Ecclestone. As a matter of fact I appreciate his presence within our little bubble of Professional Wrestling. And the exact reason for that is very straight forward ladies, gentlemen, and others…it’s because he has shed blood, sweat, and tears in the middle of that ring to reach the point that he’s at now. He’s made the grave sacrifices that we all must in order to reach the pinnacle of this profession. The miles of travel. The days, weeks, months, hell years away from family, friends, and any other loved ones. Literal blood, sweat, and tears shed in the middle of that very ring in some of the most grueling matches ever devised in wrestling long tenured history. And he’s never given up on this. He never decided that this wasn’t worth his time. He never said that he couldn’t handle it any more. He’s stuck with this and truly put his all into it. And that is someone that I must respect to the utmost degree.

[[Many of Nas’ students look in awe of his passionate and commendable words towards his current adversary.]]

Truth be told, It may seem like I’m just some sort of special appearance for a celebration of this company’s lore and roots. It may come off to most that I’m simply a measuring stick to see if Chad belongs alongside the top brass of the Omega Wrestling Alliance. But that’s perfectly fine, you may write me off as some relic who’s here to shine up the new focal point champion all you like. But they said the exact same thing about Stark when he showed up and took on Jason Long not that long ago didn’t they? And just look at how that turned out. We found ourselves crowning a new OWA World Champion out of it, one of the biggest shock victories in this company’s history! And that young, brash champion who thought he held all the keys to the kingdom in the palm of his hands? Well it all just poofed away in a matter of moments. And just look at how things have gone for Mr. Long since then. The man has practically lost his marbles alongside his championship. He has no sense of what’s right now or any true focus on what he should do to reclaim his spot at the mountaintop! Now I don’t think that that is your fate necessarily Chad, but I’m simply warning you to not sit back so casually the same way he did. Because you’ll be in for a very rude awakening when it’s all said and done!

[[Nas takes another deep breath to recollect his thoughts before staring back into the camera and starting up again.]]

Truth be told I’ve been training like a mad man for weeks and weeks now, for over a month I’d been preparing for this very opportunity. Now I’m truly the only one that’s been aware of that. Not even my staff or students here. They simply thought that I’d been training them all, trying to push all of them harder and farther. When it was exactly the opposite. Iron sharpens Iron my good people. And I needed all of these young prospects. These blue chipper athletes to push me to my limits and even further beyond them. To get me in the greatest shape I’ve ever been in in my life! Because I knew I was coming back to OWA one way or another, and that when I did…I was coming back for the OWA World Championship! Now I had no idea you’d be the champion Chad. But I did keep you and your golden opportunity in the back of my mind. Being one hundred percent honest, I was originally preparing to do battle with Rebecca Filth instead. But of course I’ll approach this match with you the exact same way I would have if it were her!

[[Nas now climbs out of the ring and sits on the outside ring apron as many of his students begin to crowd around ringside to keep hearing what he has to say.]]

Chad Ecclestone utilized one of the single greatest opportunities that can be won by an OWA Alpha, the Ascension to the Heavens Briefcase. One of the many concepts that I myself helped create when the initial group of us were first creating OWA throughout those early stages of its inaugural year of existence. A guaranteed title shot at any time of the holder’s choosing and the champion has no way of objecting to the defense. Truly a flawless way of rising to the top in a matter of moments. The likes of Christopher Sabertooth and Diantha Rosso have utilized that briefcase to great results before you, and you have triumphantly repeated their successes for yourself. Kudos to you for that one Mr. World Champion. But lemme give you a bit of advice. As a multiple time heavyweight champion of the world. As a man that’s Main Evented Final Destination with one of those on the line. As a man who was born and built for Big Match Situations! It’s far easier to claim the title…than it is to maintain control over it.

[[Many audible ooooos and aaahhhhs can be heard throughout the audience Nas has built up here.]]

Chad that is what you must deal with starting on OWA SIX! THE MONUMENTAL PRESSURE OF THE WEIGHT OF THE ENTIRE WORLD AND EVERY LAST DAMN PERSON ON IT OVER YOUR SHOULDERS! The exact same sort of pressure that turned Christopher Sabertooth into Havoc! The same sort of pressure that caused Jason Long to enter an existential crisis now! That exact same pressure that’s caused countless men and women to lose sight of themselves. Of who they are. And WHAT they represent! All in the pursuit of being on top! Very few are truly built to withstand this level of pressure Chad. And we have zero clue at all if you actually ARE one of them or not! Even I myself couldn’t fully handle the responsibilities that came with the role without being consumed by darkness and hatred myself! So what I aim to find out is are you truly prepared for the role you currently find yourself occupying young man?! And don’t worry, there’s only two ways that this whole thing concludes itself. 

[[The people in the room are now hanging on to every last word that leaves Nasir Moore’s lips.]]

Scenario number one. You come into OWA Six and you bring your A Game. It’s enough to fend off one of the single greatest to EVER do it! An inaugural top star in OWA’s history. The very first heavyweight champion of the world in OWA’s history. The man who main evented the very first Final Destination EVER! Achievements no one else can boast that they have in our business! You manage to overcome that titan of a man! You prove that you are the absolute best that this industry has to offer today! And that’s that. A happy ending for the budding new champion as he continues to mold himself into the future of Professional Wrestling.

[[Nas grins a little, before shaking his head a bit and staring right back into the camera lens once more.]]

But then there’s scenario number two. Maybe you do bring your best to OWA Six against me still Chad. But maybe you don’t. Maybe you slack off and I manage to overcome you. I dispatch you. I end your dreams and pursuits of being the top man in our world of wrestling for the time being. And you have to go back to the drawing board and figure out where exactly you errored. Or maybe as I said earlier, you DO bring your best, you don’t slack off, you DON’T get cocky and comfortable. BUT YOUR BEST STILL AIN’T ENOUGH TO DEAL WITH THE MAN WHO ACTIVELY CALLS HIMSELF THE BEST WRESTLER ALIVE! Then what do you do. See it’s actually easier to blame yourself when you don’t put in your full effort and you let one slip by you. But what happens when you did everything right on your end…but your best efforts were simply…not…good…enough?

[[Nas runs his hands down his hair and looks as if he’s contemplating in thought for a bit.]]

These are the ugly truths that we all must deal with internally at different points in our wrestling lives. Certain men made entire careers out of those doubts being present for them. Nathan Fiora, Michael Bishop, Kenny Drake, Azumi Goto, hell even Moongoose McQueen I must give the devil his due here…yes they all eventually reached the top. But they all had so many times where they missed the mark and the anguish and frustration built up within them. Trying to piece together exactly where they fell short. Why things weren’t coming together properly for them just as they had for others that they considered their equals. But each and every single one of them pushed through in the end. Can you do that now Chad? Hell those few of you at this point that were around for my formative years should know very well that I was the poster child for this idea before I became the legend I am now. I was the odd man out. The bride’s maid but never the bride. The perennial second best. But I let all of my setbacks fuel me on! I wanted to be a beacon of hope for all of those that came after me! I wanted to be a symbol of opportunity! And I never backed down. I did not surrender until I got what I was after! DO YOU SEE THE FIRE IN MY EYES CHAD ECCLESTONE?! DO YOU HEAR THE PASSION IN MY VOICE?! I AM A MAN WHO ABSOLUTELY POSITIVELY REFUSES TO BE DENIED! THE ONLY DAMN DIFFERENCE IS I’M NOT THE YOUNG MAN WITH A GLASS CEILING PLACED OVER MY HEAD THAT I MUST SHATTER! NO NO NO! NOW I’M THE OLD VET WHO’S OUT TO PROVE THAT I GOT ONE MORE TOP RUN IN ME! AND I’M NOT DOING ANY SORT OF GRANDSTANDING! I DON’T NEED THE POMP AND CIRCUMSTANCE! NO PYRO OR THEATRICS FOR THIS ONE! BECAUSE I ALL BY MYSELF AM ALL THE HYPE THAT’S NEEDED TO MAKE THIS ONE A BIG FIGHT FEEL! 

[[One of the students looks like she is about to approach Nasir, but a coach holds her back to allow him to get all of his energy out now.]]

THE ONE FUCKING THING I’VE YET BEEN ABLE TO CLAIM IN THE HISTORY BOOKS IS BEING THE FLAG BEARER, THE STANDARD BEARER, THE MAN IN THE OMEGA WRESTLING ALLIANCE! AND THAT COMES DOWN TO ONE VERY SIMPLE THING! I’VE NEVER BEEN ABLE TO BECOME THE OMEGA WRESTLING ALLIANCE WORLD CHAMPION! WELL COME THE SIXTH YEAR ANNIVERSARY OF THE GREATEST PROFESSION WRESTLING PROMOTION THAT THIS WORLD OR ANY OTHER HAS EVER KNOWN, I SET OUT TO DO JUST THAT! NASIR MOORE, CM NAS, NAS, WHATEVER IN THE HELL YOU WANT TO CALL ME AT THIS POINT…I AM GOING TO DO THE ONE THING I’VE NEVER DONE, WHILE AT THE SAME TIME DOING THE ONLY THING I KNOW HOW TO DO! I’M GOING TO WIN THE OWA WORLD TITLE…AND I’M GOING TO DO IT BY FIGHTING MY HEART OUT TO THE ABSOLUTE FULLEST AND PROVING I AM STILL THE BEST WRESTLING ALIVE! ACTUALLY…FUCK THAT! I’LL DO YA ONE BETTER! DEFEATING CHAD ECCLESTONE AND FINALLY ADDING MY NAME TO THE MOST ELITE GROUP OF PERFORMERS IN OUR ENTIRE INDUSTRY’S HISTORY WILL MAKE ME A LEVEL ABOVE THE B.W.A.! IT WILL MAKE ME THE G.W.E. THE GREATEST! WRESTLER! EVER! MY CONVICTION IS TRUE! MY DESIRE IS UNDENIABLE! I’M NOT TELLING YOU WHAT I PLAN TO DO! NO NO NO! GOOD PEOPLE OF OWA! I’M TELLING YOU WHAT WILL OCCUR NEXT SATURDAY! I’M WINNING THE OWA WORLD CHAMPIONSHIP AND I AM REMINDING EACH AND EVERY SINGLE LAST ONE OF YOU WHY MY NAME HAS ALWAYS BELONGED AT THE TOP OF THE G.O.A.T. STATUS LIST! 

[[All the people in the Best Wrestling Academy begin to chant Nasir’s name. NAS! NAS! NAS!]]

It’s been a good while since I’ve heard that one. Makes me feel youthful again. Makes me feel rejuvenated. Makes me feel like I can achieve the impossible. Makes me feel like I CAN DO ANYTHING RIGHT NOW! Chad Ecclestone, I respect the hell out of what all you’ve managed to achieve in our world of Professional Wrestling and specifically within the confines of the Omega Wrestling Alliance in such a miniscule amount of time. But just because I respect what you’ve done, does NOT mean that this grizzled veteran is gonna let you get your shit off on him and let ya walk off with your reign still intact. And best believe once I defeat you my good sir, you can get a rematch against me anytime you like. I hold zero ill will towards you. I’d be telling Rebecca Filth every last thing that I’ve just told you, Chad. Raivo, Jeff, Bishop, Aria, Arata, Moongoose, Christopher…it makes NO DIFFERENCE who stands across the ring from me! There are three very simple yet important words connected to me that I’d utter to any one of you and I plan to state towards every one of you…IT’S CONQUERING TIME!

[[Everyone within the Best Wrestling Academy rise to their feet if they weren’t standing already. They begin not just loudly clapping and applauding, but hollering, chanting for Nas, patting him on the back or shoulders, so on and so forth. The final thing we see is a camera pan past Nas’ office where we see his championship collection. With one empty spot at the very top that reads: OWA World Championship.]]

The King has returned: vs Ravio #1

( The scene opens on the Kingdom Interview set where we find Cori Simmons standing by.)

Cori Simmons: Hello everyone and welcome to this OWA on YouTube exclusive report. Kingdom is coming back to the world’s most famous arena, and kicking off the OWA 6 tour by taking over Madison Square Garden! I am so excited for this show, in particular because as OWA on X announced yesterday, we have a very special matchup where we will see “The Authentic” Ravio go one on one with my guest who will be making his Kingdom in ring debut Sunday Night. He is the former four time OWA Prestige Champion, one of the most popular superstars on Friday Night Olympus, and he is the number one contender for the Immortal Heavyweight Championship, ladies and gentleman please welcome The Romani King, Mark Michaels.

( Mark enters the set flanked by his crew of Harman Ardelean, and his cousins Gyp, and Sy.)

Cori Simmons: Mark, thank you for taking time out of your schedule to chat with us, and let me be the first to welcome you to Kingdom.  

Mark:  Thank you Cori, I appreciate the warm welcome from you, and everyone across all the social channels who have been showing me some love now that kingdom has its King.  Right here live in the flesh is Mark Michaels. Now for you who don’t know me, allow me to introduce myself. I am the King of the hustlers, the king of staying on the grind, and king of rising up and proving your worth every damn day. Now that you know who I am, I’m sure everyone is asking just why Mark Michaels, the poster boy for Olympus, doing here on Sunday night?

Cori Simmons: That actually was my next question? What are you doing here Mark?  


Mark: What can I say?  I have friends in high places.   My old buddy Nathan Fiora and I were having a friendly little chat back at Dreamworld, and then he said that he thinks that Kingdom has perhaps the best group of talent ever assembled. He said the guys and girls on Sunday night are amazing, but with such a huge tour coming up, he wanted something special to put it all over the top. He wanted something huge for Kingdom, something to shake this brand at its very foundations and upend the status quo quicker than you could flick off a light switch. Nathan Fiora looked me right in the eye with the same lion he had when asked if I wanted to bring an Awakening to Friday Nights. He looked me in the eye and he said that the only way he could make kingdom even better, was for everyone in MSG to take a trip with the Cosmic Caravan. I told Nathan there’s room for every single fan to ride along with the Romani King, and I’m excited at the thought of tangling with guys like Chris Sabertooth, Colton Saint, Aria Jaxson, Jeff X, and so many more.


Cori Simmions:  And I’m sure all of our fans are just as hyped about those fantasy match ups becoming a reality, but I have to ask, with a No Surrender match for the Immortal Heavyweight Championship fast approaching, should you be competing against someone like Ravio who he himself will be facing off against Poet for the OWA Prestige Championship. What can we expect in this match up?  How important is it to have momentum going into an such a huge event? And how do you weigh the risk vs the reward in terms of potentialy getting injured before such a huge match?

Mark: Well Cori, anytime you step in the ring you risk getting hurt, that’s just the nature of this sport.  But if you assume that I’ll be going at half speed for my Kingdom Debut, I think you’ll see pretty quick that I am not one to anything half heartedly. I never back down from a fight, I never never put forth anything less than my absolute best.  Especially for this one, Because momentum is important, and  going into what may just be the biggest match of my entire career, hell my entire life, Having it on my side when I step into the ring at Dream World can make a huge difference. It’s probably why the Tres Commas Club have kept me out of the ring the last few weeks. They don’t want this Romani express train picking up any steam, because once it starts rolling,  ain’t hell or high water gonna make it stop. So since KD, and the rest of the Tres Comas jackasses have me sitting on the sidelines, that has led me here to Sunday Night, to New York City, and to Ravio. Now don’t think that just because I got my eyes on the prize, that I’m overlooking the man I will be standing toe to toe, eye to eye with. I know I’m the new guy on Kingdom, but I’ve kept my ear to the ground, I’ve done my homework, and I know that Ravio has been on the rise for a hot moment. Once upon a time you would ask Siri just who Ravio is, and it would reply According to this Ravio is defined as, 1.) a hanger on who needs someone bigger, stronger, and wholly more interesting to subsist on, aka a leech. 2.) an empty headed, pissant, jackass with no guts, no spine, and a decided lack of balls. But towards the end of last season, and up to just a few weeks ago when he beat Moongoose McQueen, a former World Champion, in a no holds barred match, Ravio has been changing that up.  He’s been on the come up, and made himself one of those guys who is never quite out of contention, because he has enough talent to beat the best. We all saw how Back at Final Destination Ravio came damn close to winning it all on the biggest stage. Being inches away from being able to say you are the undisputed best burns a hole in a man, I’m speaking from first hand experience. He could have floundered Post-Final Destination, but instead he has let that fire that has been burning inside, take him to another level. It also wouldn’t be too much of a stretch to say this man is getting more and more desperate to get another crack at championship gold, hence why he keeps showing up on Olympus whenever he sees an opening to swoop in and grab a title. It’s no easy feat to try and step into the ring with a champion when you’ve  so little time to prepare for your opponent, but Ravio stays ready. I respect the hustle.

So With the countdown to Dream World nearly up, and your Romani King looking for a tune up match, I couldn't think of a better way to warm up for the fight of my life, than to battle it out with a man that’s almost as hungry, with a fire in his belly, motivated as fuck to prove he’s the best in this business, just like me. A take no prisoners son of a bitch who wants the world and everything in it.   I want him at his best, I want him looking to send a message to everyone, especially Nathan Fiora, I want The Authentic Ravio. I want him to bring his best to the table because I know it will bring the best out of me.

Now that I’ve given Ravio his flowers, I think he should know who he’s going against. Of course if I just stand on a soapbox going on and on about myself it’ would make me no better than that Jackass Remington Prescott. So That’s why I got this guy to let everyone know who the fuck I am, tell him Harman.

Harman Ardelean: lend an ear and listen here. My boy Marco here needs no introduction, but I’m proud to give him one anyways. This here is the man who if he can’t climb a mountain, he’s gonna make it move. This is the man that started from the very bottom, and is now nearly at the top of mount Olympus. This the man who can’t be kept down because he has no quit and he never surrenders. This the man who you can’t stop, like the sun coming up in morning, or waves of the ocean rolling onto the shore, and now he’s arrived in a new Kingdom to take his throne.

Mark: Thank you Harman. Now with that said, I want Ravio to know that yes we both have huge opportunities at dream world. We both have championship ambitions over on Olympus, but this match here on Kingdom, well that has all the ingredients to be one hell of a match. It can help change how you are defined here and now. Going from the third wheel, to a driving force. Going from that guy who used to run with DT the Ruler, to one of the biggest players on Kingdom. Going from a guy been a bit directionless, who’s been hanging around the locker room talking shit, to the man on Sunday night. Bring your best Ravio, because I sure as hell am. You want the Prestige championship, I won that belt 4 fucking times, so the way I see it, you want to prove you got a shot of beating Poet? you got to try and beat me.  But don’t think it’ll be an easy feat. You’re looking at the hardest working man I’m OWA, Mister no days off is in the building, and he is here to raise the bar even higher for the Kingdom locker room. Mark Michaels is here to show everyone on Sunday Nights that what matters most in that ring is your size of your heart and your hustle. Mark Michaels is here to bring out the best in every single member of that locker room, from bell to bell, week in and week out.

Bring your best bro, because Michaels vs Ravio is the kind of match that could headline a Final Destination, and I want this match to live up to the hype of every single person in that crowd riding on the cosmic caravan. I’m bringing everything I got to the ring. I’m doing it for Harman, I’m doing it for my cousins, I’m even doing it for the Minorities. And with so many people having their eyes on this match, with one of my good buddies paying me a whole lot bunch of zeroes, and with my path leading me towards dreams and destiny, there’s no way I’m letting anyone down or disappointed in ny Kingdom debut. Ravio, you are about to get the unfiltered, uncensored, unequivocal, best of Mark Michaels when that bell ring. And when it’s all over, don’t be surprised when I get my hand raised, and you… HAIL TO THE KING BABY!!!

Cori Simmons: Thank you for your time Mark. Make sure you guys catch Kingdom, check your local listings. For OWA on YouTube, I am Cori Simmions.

( with that the video fades out to black.)

On the road… again ( or like a band of Gypsies we roll down the highway): Dream World promo #2




( The scene opens along I-77 on a sunny spring morning in North Carolina. Cars pass by noisliy and The video is somewhat shaky as it’s obviously being recorded by a cell phone, but nonetheless  a sign welcoming drivers to the city of Charlotte features prominently in the shot. Someone steps from behind the camera into the frame. It is none other than the number one contender to the Immortal Heavyweight Championship, The Romani King Mark Michaels. Mark’s expression exudes confidence, excitement, and a sense that he is nearing the end of a long and hard journey. )

Mark: CHARLOTTE!!! WHERE MY NORTH CAROLINA GYPSIES AT?!?!

Charlotte, I know you all have a little saying round here that goes, Esse Quam Videri. Which means To be rather than to seem. Or to put it another way, to walk the walk when you talk the talk. You know when I look at the poster for dream world, and I see that I’m the guy standing at the front of the pack on said poster, that’s not only statement that I feel I got to live up to, thats the spot I’ve been working my whole career to get to. right now there is nothing i'd love more than to stand as the top dog leading the locker room on Olympus, And not just a guy who says he’s a leader, but one who leads by his example. To be the man proving week in and week out that I’m the best in that ring, the best on the microphone, and the guy who Olympus can depend on each and every week. There’s only one leader in any given locker room, the Immortal Heavyweight Championship goes a long way in determining who is the man for people to look to backstage. For too long that belt has been In The hands of a man who is no leader. He doesn’t motivate the young guys to get better.  He doesn’t try to motivate the rest of the roster to compete with a fire to them when they step in that ring.  He doesn’t bother to help the sport of professional wrestling in any way. To him this isn’t even a sport, To him it’s just the Remington show, where he gets to dance around with that belt for a prize and doesn’t care at all about what it actually means. To him it’s nothing more  trinket he traded his tickets for at Dave and Busters for. A toy he can play with till he gets bored. He doesn’t give fuck all about wrestling, nor the men and women who came before us, and gave their blood, sweat, tears, and the best years of their lives to make help make it what it is today. So ultimately what it comes down to, is that at Dream World, I have every reason why I gotta get my hand raised at the end of the night. I know there are people coming to this night seeing it as a tribute for WrestleWorld, a reunion or home coming for the talent and ideas that made that place so special, and the best way to honor them who share a love for this great sport, is to make sure Remington Ivory Prescott does not walk away with the Immortal Heavyweight Championship. That in addition to the fact that I’m coming to Dream World to turn my wildest fantasy into cold hard undeniable, undisputed facts.  So let me start this here by spitting facts for the whole world to hear. One, I would rather die than ever give Remington Ivory Prescott the privilege of saying he was the man who finally broke Mark Michaels. Two, if Remington thinks he’s gone to war with me before, just wait till he gets a load of what’s coming his way, because the only gypsy trick I’m bringing to the table is simply beating his ass up and down Mint street till the little bastard screams the words I surrender!

I wanna tell you something Charlotte, me and the rest of the family were driving down I-85 to get here. We came across a little town called Chapel Hill, and the closer we got to Chapel Hill, the more I recalled a great North Carolina Tar Heel by the name of Michael Jordan. A man who had talent, had the drive, the desire and determination to be a champion but for all the accomplishments and accolades couldn’t win the big one. 7 years of coming up short but the man had no quit in him. Think about that, seven long seasons he had done it all except for win the NBA championship. All the ups and downs and disappointments. He kept running into road blocks like all time greats in Larry Bird and the Celtics. He had hard times when the Entire Bad Boys Pistons teams ganged up on the man and beat him down every single time he put up a shot. But despite everything he kept getting thrown, he grew better, and stronger, and when he bested all of them, conquered the devils that had vexed him on his way to that NBA title, people stopped asking will he ever cross the finish line, and started asking if there was anyone who could stop him now that he had broken through?  The answer as we all would learn was no. I’m taking inspiration from MJ in this one, because it has been a long road, but every step has made me better in that ring. So The Romani King isn’t gonna give up no matter how hard hard it gets, and no matter how desperate it seems.  I didn’t surrender when EAW management didn’t think of me as anything more than a mid carder at best. I didn’t surrender when the Awakening lost everything we had spent the better part of a year building together, and the one friend I had left in Eon Blue tried throwing under for it. I didn’t surrender anytime I came within a fingertip’s grasp of winning a world championship. Instead I got better, and stronger, and tougher, and dug my heels in, and refused to lay down and die.  And no It certainly was not because Remington is the Thulsa Doom to my Conan, but because people with the heart of a champion, They never say die.  So when the bell rings there’s no way in hell anyone short of god himself can get me to quit when I’ve worked my ass off for as long as I have.  

When the bell rings,  the word surrender does not exist in my vocabulary. I will give every drop of blood, every gasp of air, every last drop of energy till I fucking collapse. It ain’t no gypsy trick, it no lie, it not hyperbole, it’s just what I’m willing to sacrifice because to finally live a dream.  I got a no surrender swag dripping off me, Oh but Charlotte y’all know that more than that,  I’m riding high off the adrenaline pumping through veins. I’m battle tested and Ready to go the distance. And between you and me, I’m pretty damn pissed off so I’m willing to unleash every bit of my arsenal, and go to any extreme imaginable. I’m at the top Of my game right now.  Meanwhile I’m wonder if RIP has any game at all?  Hear me out. The man says he has nothing to lose, and he’s part right because I wouldn’t consider his life to be anything of value, so yeah nothing to lose. Yes I get RIP is technically is the Immortal Heavyweight Champion, and he’s one of only three men to hold it twice, but when the man is in these big matchups, he tends to… well I want to use the word falter. The man got beat by Nobi, and if it wasn’t for KD pulling the strings and reversing the decision, RIP wouldn’t have ever been inside the Thunderdome back at Final Destination. The man lost the Immortal title to Darkane at the kickoff show, lost the triple threat at Game Over, the only reason he won it back was because i won the Ascension To the Heavens briefcase. I mean for fuck’s sake his ass would have been sitting on the couch watching this very pay per view pay per view because the only reason he’s even the champion going into this match is that I saved his ass from a beat down at the hands of Jason Long and his Emo Kids circle jerk brigade.  Guess that’s what he means when he says everything that’s about to happen is because of me, yeah because RIP has been a leech, a parasite riding my dick to get his accolades.  Everything that’s about to happen is because of me, I wholeheartedly agree. Lord knows you couldn’t have gotten this far without me you son of a bitch.  

A few out there will say oh but Prescott is so clever and so smart. Prescott is less than he seems, and even that is a cowardly, sniveling, egomaniacal, weakling with both a superiority complex, and the biggest case of penis envy in recorded history.  Only Remmington can somehow not only admit to being a sad, sackless worm of human being, but somehow be proud about it unironically.  Either he’s delusional with his head in the clouds or he’s an idiot with his head planted up his ass! Who am I kidding, we all know he’s both. He’s crossed the line from everyday, average, buying into your own bullshit, to that Donald Trump level of becoming your own echo chamber where you tell yourself you deserve all the credit, none of the blame, and the only reason you ever fail is because you’re too goddamn smart.


Now understand that  I usually don’t give the horseshit that falls out of Remington’s mouth any unwarranted attention. That’s because nothing he says is usually worth paying attention to in the first place. but I tell you some things this motherfucker has been saying have me wondering if this dude has finally fucking cracked? Like has the hectic schedule, the paranoia, all the self felation, has it all gotten to him?  I hear the tone of his voice and the look in his eye and all I can say is that the man has lied to himself for so long he is actually starting to believe his own bullshit. I’ll give you an example.  Remington said that our rivalry has been one sided in his favor. Last I checked me and him have split wins right down the middle. What’s more, the last time it was just me and him in a ring together, I beat him so badly he had to go take a mental health break to deal with having his ass handed to him. Oh and  that crap about being trying to be a better man. If you have spent any amount of time trying to be a better person than you were before, you have to got to get a different New Year’s resolution, because you have fucking failed miserably at that shit. Do you honestly think anyone buys into this nonsense you go on about  with this idea that you’re some kind of necessary evil on Olympus. I’m calling bullshit on that!  Was it necessary in trying to get one over on Darkane that you unleashed Jason Long, Lilith, and the rest of the happy tree friends. Was it necessary to buy out my contract and lord it over me?  Was it necessary to Plunge a knife in my belly?   The only thing I can think that was necessary in our little history together, was you running and throwing that little bitch fit the last time we did this.  So mean old mister presscunt, the only thing I need you to do at Dream World, is for you to stand still while I smash your damn face in.

Just don’t act all surprised when you hear 75,000 people cheering when I do. Can you believe that This dude, somehow he seems to think that the fans prefer me over him because of some kind of trick.  While I may be the king of the hustlers, you’d be hard pressed to find anyone the OWA fans wouldn’t cheer over this prick. He like those guys who say dumb shit like “you’re only winning the argument because you use probable facts.”

He doesn’t seem to think that maybe people cheer for me because they respect that i have enough talent to actually earn my opportunities, rather than having to sell my soul, whatever it’s worth, to whoever has the stroke on Olympus. from the TCC, to Scott Oasis, Ayrx, and everyone in between, the great and mighty Remington Prescott, has to get down on his knees and kiss the boss’ ass to get anywhere. He doesn’t think the fans are smart enough to see who can actually win matches and championships without interference, or smuggling in a deadly weapon, or without simply screwing someone else over. Side bar, don’t you think it’s funny how his entire championship reign is akin to slight of hand, but he whines like a pussy about how me having the support of the people is some kind Jedi mind trick. Prescott, The people in the crowds don’t boo you because I’m the good guy and you’re the bad guy, oh no. See they boo you Because you are simply put the biggest asshole walking god’s green earth. If you need Proof of such, it’s that when I say god’s green earth, you think I’m talking about you and your money. RIP, even if your deluded, idiotic fantasy of  the fans into liking me by you know, actually being good at wrestling while not being a total douche of a human being, is somehow a trick, even if that was  the case, This match has nothing to do with heroes and villains, gods and devils, light or darkness, and it has everything to with you being the absolute biggest pain in the ass I’ve ever had the misfortune of dealing with, and the fact that you have the one thing that has kept me going since the day I left home with not more the clothes on my back. This ain’t about good and bad, this is about You pushing things far past the point of where this was a professional rivalry, or to put it in a way you’ll understand, Dream World isn’t gonna be just business. This isn’t just about us clashing in the ring over titles, this is about how You are The guy who has constantly done everything in your power to keep me on a bended knee. How you have gone to such lengths To make me an errand boy, to make me a slave.  This is about how you have done everything in your power to one way or another  to cut me off at the legs professionally every chance you got, and still ended up standing on my shoulders with a belt that you know damn well belongs to me.  And of course now that you know that mouth has written a check you can not cash, and payback for the years of fucking misery you have put me through is coming your way, your doing what every other chicken shit, overprivledged cunt does when they know things are gonna get rough. Your Karen ass is running around out here trying to play the victim card. It's pathetic even for you.

I hear this mother fucker saying things like he’s been trying to avoid me like the plague. That he wants to settle this civilly, that I should just let him go about his merry little way  if I wanted to be done with him. Oh how I have certainly tried. Tell me how the hell you’re  expecting me to let sleeping dogs lie, when either have me arrested in the middle of match, which didn’t just cost me the title I was chasing, but the one I had going into the damn thing?  How do I let bygones be bygones, when keep  threating to either my family, or put them out in the street?  Tell me, how hard were you trying to duck me when you and your little Tres Comas goons laid a beat down on me after you screw me out of shot at the fucking tag team championships. you remember that night, when little Josh Keeton, and what’s his name, Timecop or lizard face, or something like that, held me down so you could blast me in the head with that gaudy ring you wear? That was the night you found enough bits of nuts in that empty sack between your legs to offer a shot at your title. Again I just wonder if he bothers to even listen to the nonsensical noise that spews from his face.


RIP, as much as you would love to break me, there’s not a snowflake’s chance in hell of that happening, because my will, my hustle, and my heart have been forged in a fire hotter than the blazes of hell and damnation. They are stronger than you, or anything your money can buy. I know you want to see me walk away from Dream World a different person. Humbled, battered, broken. I want you to know that the only thing that’s gonna change is that the Immortal Heavyweight championship you have clutched in your sweaty little palms, will be hanging around my waist. At Dream World I am breaking the last chain that has been wrapped around my neck to hold me down. I am climbing the to the top of the mountain, I am not backing down, I will not settle for less, to quote a wise woman there will be no white flag above my door bitch! At Dream World there’s only one way this is gonna end Prescott. It ends with you looking up past the blood running down your face, looking me in the eye, and telling the whole world that you surrender, AND HAIL TO THE KING… AND THE NEXT IMMORTAL HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPION, Mark Michaels.

( The video freeze frames on Mark as his eyes burning with determination gaze right into the camera before fading out. )

It is a truth universally acknowledged that a quirked-up white boy in possession of immaculate vibe must be in want of a bag. However little known the feelings of such a bro on fronting opps, this truth is so well fixed in the minds of NPCs that he is considered to be on that grind.
 
“Nice job, kid.”
 
The voice was as deep as an ocean. It boomed above the backstage bedlam of the Carolina Coliseum, commanding all to pay attention. With the roar of the crowd still ringing in his ears, Brody turned his head to see Mark Michaels, larger than life, standing with some of his entourage. His giant fist, as sturdy as a blacksmith’s anvil, extended toward the Californian in a show of solidarity.
 
“Knock that arrogant fuck off his perch, you hear me?”
 
For a brief moment, Brody’s nonchalant manner, so customarily exuded, was overcome by the hint of a smile.
 
“You too, bro,” he replied, bumping his fist against that of the Gypsy King.
 
The two contenders exchanged a respectful nod before going their separate ways.
 
The atmosphere was ebullient as the final pieces of the DreamWorld puzzle were falling into place. Although two matches in one night had taken their toll on Brody’s body, the adrenaline pulsing through his veins postponed any ill effect of his exertions. As he scanned the sea of faces, searching for a specific set of eyes among the many now focused on him, the mixture of medics, reporters, coaches, and crew clamored to congratulate him on his victory.
 
“Brody!” exclaimed the familiar voice of Cori Simmons. “Over here!”
 
“Oh, hey,” he said after finally locating the diminutive interviewer. “Have you seen my dad?”
 
“No, sorry,” she replied awkwardly. “Maybe he’s in the locker room?”
 
“Yeah, probably.”
 
“Got time for a few words?”
 
“Later, yeah? Come find me outside the locker room.”
 
“You’re not going to be naked again, are you?”
 
“Ugh,” Brody rolled his eyes. “That was only like three times, Cori. When are you gonna let go of the past?”
 
“I swear I’m going straight to Scott Oasis if it happens again.”
 
“Haha, you little scamp!” he chuckled while ruffling her hair.
 
It took another 10 minutes for Brody to reach the locker room, where he was greeted by nothing but the smell of liniment and sweat. His lungs deflated. The phone in his bag had been lit up by friends and family, with one notable absence. As he began typing a message to his father, the man himself finally burst through the door.
 
“Yo, where the f—"
 
“Brody,” Wyatt quickly interrupted, holding a hand up to signify he had more to say. “Son, I was wrong.”
 
“Huh?”
 
“Are you deaf, boy? I said I was wrong. What you just did out there was… well, it was spectacular.”
 
“For real?”
 
“For real. Not only have you proven me wrong, but you’ve also proven yourself worthy of challenging Allesandro. I’m… I’m proud of you, son.”
 
The words somehow escaped through his gritted teeth. Brody, choking back tears, approached his father with arms wide open.
 
“Hey, hey, hey!” said Wyatt, throwing his hand up once again. “This is a five-thousand-dollar suit, and I’ll not have you getting blood and sweat all over it. I said I’m proud of you, and that’s the end of it.”
 
“Right, yeah, totally,” Brody laughed sheepishly while rubbing his eyes. “So, what’s the plan? Gym, 6 am tomorrow?”
 
“Excuse me?”
 
“Two weeks until DreamWorld, bro. Clock’s ticking!”
 
“What the hell has gotten into you?”
 
“What? Nothing. Just saying, gotta put the work in, right?”
 
“Right,” said Wyatt, somewhat lost for words. “But there’s plenty of time for all that. Don’t you want to celebrate first?”
 
“What’s to celebrate? Haven’t won nothing yet, bro.”
 
“I don’t know about that. You just beat five of the finest athletes the OWA has to offer. If that’s no reason to celebrate, then I don’t know what is. Plus, it’s March 3^rd, so you know what that makes tomorrow.”
 
“March 4^th?”
 
“Right, otherwise known as…”
 
“Of course, National Grammar Day.”
 
“What? No, it’s your birthday.”
 
“Oh shit, I completely forgot!”
 
“Well, you had other things on your mind. Here,” said Wyatt, taking a quart-sized Ziplock bag full of various powders, pills, rocks, and buds from his pocket. “Happy birthday.”
 
Brody could scarcely believe what was happening. Tears filled his eyes once again as he held the bad in both hands.
 
“Go do whatever it is you do, and come see me at the house in a few days. This is your time, boy,” said Wyatt as he turned to leave the locker room. “You’ve earned it.”
 
The heat of the shower made his high more potent. He emerged feeling rejuvenated. As he stood with a towel wrapped around his waist, texting a WhatsApp group titled “grool cummings”, his attention was suddenly drawn to the television screen.
 
It was Emmanuelle.
 
The Platinum Queens were being awarded the Sword and Shield trophy, which meant they, and not Dudes Rock would be taking on the Seventh Ward at DreamWorld. A tinge of disappointment washed over Brody’s spacey countenance. As Emmanuelle began to speak, he thought about one of the last things she said before their match.
 
“Not your type, huh? Bitch, I’m O-positive and HIV-negative. I’m everybody’s type.”
 
Brody turned his attention back to his phone. He finished texting his friends before taking the towel from his waist and drying his hair. The knock on the door was light and polite.
 
“Who is it?”
 
“It’s Cori.”
 
“Come in.”
 
“Are you naked?”
 
“Oh, right. Err, wait there. I’ll be out in a minute.”
 
Over 20 minutes passed before Brody came out. Cori and the camera crew passed the time by watching the rest of the Sword and Shield trophy presentation. Although she was visibly annoyed when Brody stepped out, she was at least thankful that he was fully clothed.
 
“Sorry about that,” he said. “Just wanted to see what Emmy and Nakanakajima had to say.”
 
“Tough break,” said Cori, pursing her lips. “I thought you and Cletus had a good shot at taking down the Seventh Ward.”
 
“Ah, it is what it is, an’ ain’t what it ain’t. Just hope the Queens get the job done this time, bro.”
 
“Mmhmm, although it doesn’t seem like Emmy’s a big fan of yours, though?”
 
“Are you joking? Didn’t you hear what she just said? Big trophy presentation and all she can do is thirst over me. Get a grip, woman.”
 
“What are you talking about? I’m not sure she even mentioned you.”
 
“I can’t remember what she said word for word, but it was something like, ‘Well, that's a warmer reception than I'm used to, thank you very much! Two weeks ago when Brody put my shoulders on the mat for three I was livid, not with him - with myself. I allowed him to take me off guard and let Dudes Rock slide their way into the tournament finals.'"
 
“Have… you been checked for concussion?”
 
“What, by a doctor? Like the one who killed Michael Jackson? Fuck do those nerds know about shit? Let’s keep this moving, Simmons. This LSD could kick in any minute, and I got places to be.”
 
“Okay, well, first of all, congratulations on your victory in the Battle Royal. How does it feel to be heading to your first main event at an OWA pay-per-view?”
 
“Pretty cool, not gonna lie. Just wish it wasn’t called DreamWorld, know what I’m saying?”
 
“Surely you must feel honored to be challenging for the American Dream title at an event named DreamWorld?”
 
“All a bit fruity if you ask me, dude.”
 
“What do you make of what Allesandro said to you?”
 
“He hasn’t said shit to me, bro.”
 
“What? He confronted you in the ring after your victory.”
 
“That was him? Fuuuuuck! Dude’s aged badly since we last went at it. Shit, this might be easier than I thought.”
 
“I don’t know about that. He’s about to become the longest reigning world champion in company history.”
 
“So?”
 
“So, he’s overcome everything Olympus has thrown at him, including yourself. Confidence is admirable, but overconfidence is a recipe for disaster.”
 
“Bro, call me Edward James the way I Olmos had him last time.”
 
“Weren’t you listening to what he said in the ring? That’s exactly what he called you: a man of almosts and maybes.”
 
“Well, he’s not wrong, is he? I almost had him. I almost had Poet at Final Destination. I almost had the briefcase. One of these days, it’s gonna happen.”
 
“Not if you don’t take him seriously.”
 
Brody took a deep breath as he looked into the distance. A storm of emotions raged in his eyes. Cori allowed him a moment to gather his thoughts.
 
“Listen, there’s five penguins playing chess with floating umbrellas. Ok? Five! You feel me?”
 
“What the...?”
 
“And I’m just here like, whoa, dude. Nice!"
 
“Uhh, Cori,” the cameraman whispered. “I think that’s the LSD talking.”
 
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” she said, rubbing the bridge of her nose. “This fucking burnout’s gonna lose again, and we're gonna have to listen to more of Allesandro's shit.”
 
Cori and the crew left Brody to wander off into the South Carolina night. 

Who knows what adventures await him?

Here we go again. Here I am, here I sit, the modicum of professionalism and a prestigious champion in every single sense of the word. I sit upon my Immortal Throne and I await the next worthy challenger to approach. I am ready and willing to continue to fight, with my own two hands, against anyone and everyone that I deem worthy of stepping into that ring with me that feels that they can take away my Immortal Heavyweight Championship. An offer that I have not been shy about presenting to the entire totality of Mount Olympus. A fighting champion? Remington Ivory Prescott has been more than that. He's been a giving and benevolent champion by even allowing the mortals inside the gates. I have done nothing but provide a path to the gold that I worked my ass off for and what happens? What must I endure the moment I decide to take a single moment for myself? When I choose to allow myself just the briefest of breaks from carrying this entire mountain of fame and glory known as Olympus on my back? What happens?

Insolent individuals decide to throw rocks at the throne. And I'm supposed to just let that slide? That's not what anyone else would do. And just because I am a superior minded artist of my craft, that does not mean I am not willing to climb down off my perch here among the clouds to put a few little repeat offenders back in their place. And while a few of these peasants still have their heads, for now, there is one in particular that I feel must be eradicated post haste. There is one mess of a man that has been nothing short of a complete and utter spaghetti sauce stain on the pristine and crisp white suit that is my career. An ungodly splotch that finds a way to besmirch every single victory that I have gotten since my arrival here in the Omega Wrestling Alliance.

And that man is Mark Michaels.

Now, before anyone says anything, I know what people think. I know what Mark thinks -- no, believes. I realize that because of the way I conduct business in this particular industry, that everybody is all up in arms about it. I get it. You don't like people that don't follow the alleged rules. "It's not fair. He didn't deserve that. Why are you stabbing him in the eye? Oh no, not his jugular -- he needs that." I want you to know and understand that this industry, this world here in OWA, this is not for the faint of heart. This is not just some high school gym where a couple of chunky teenagers are rolling around on the floor together while some old man that probably needs to have a conversation with Chris Hansen is waiting to blow the whistle. No no, this is not wrestling. Not professional. Not amateur. What we do here in OWA can only be defined as WAR. And do you know who wins wars? Do you know what wins wars? Being smarter, better and willing to do whatever it takes to walk away with that victory. And while you all may have some sort of skewed moral compass about what's good and what's bad, let me remind you that you all are the same people that scream and cheer when one of your favorites decides to split somebody's head open or, I dunno, summon an angelic fox spirit to make a wish on a fallen star-shaped gem in hopes of seeing something insane and spectacular. Your fickle minds can only comprehend what you see in the moment and despite the fact that I've done nothing worse than anyone else here on Mount Olympus... you've decided that I'm the bad guy. That I'm the wrong one. That I'm the one that needs to be stopped. That I'm the one that shouldn't use every slick trick in the book to walk away victorious.

But everyone else can?

Now, make no mistake, I'm not here to completely berate you all. I understand that your feeble minds are incapable of seeing past the Gypsy Mind Trick that Mr. Michaels has pulled over your eyes and that's fine. You don't need to. Every single one of you is well within your rights to cheer for the man that's made it his entire life's mission to take something away from me. Not to become a champion for himself. Not to do this for his people. Hell, not even really to do this for you or for Olympus. No no, his entire being since we first shared a ring together, has been to destroy me or anything that I've tried to do. My entire time here on Mount Olympus has been trying to get away from this man. Everything I've done, I've done to free myself from his oppressive and abusive stalking. This man has done nothing but follow me around and attempt to ruin my life because he's decided that I'm the problem. He's decided that I'm the one that's caused all of this badness to occur in his life. I tried to hire this man, give him a proper job, work alongside him and this ungrateful man threw it back in my face. He did everything he could to undermine me. To try and destroy me. To make sure that I couldn't accomplish my goals and my dreams. Something that I would never do to him.

At least, I wouldn't before.

Now, Dreamworld is right around the corner and while I'm sure this man is preparing to be "my nightmare" or something trite like that, there is a part of me that wants to be done with this. Done with him. And that is why the match is the way it is. I've dealt with this man's hatred and ire for far too long. I'm over it. I want to put this chapter of my life behind me and I want to move forward. I want to give other and more deserving people a chance to achieve something great by allowing them to test their mettle against my superiority and I cannot do that while I have a stray dog chasing me down every five minutes trying to nip at my heels and begging me for scraps of attention. Apparently, I live so rent free in this man's head, I might as well be in a damn condo or something. You'd think I murdered one of his cousins or kidnapped his wife or something. When in reality, all I've ever really done is come out on top. Been more clever. Worked smarter, not harder. All I've ever done, really, is Win. Something that losers can't stand to see you do.

But all of that is about to change. Dreamworld's on the horizon and I've run out of all of my patience. As much as I would've liked to settle this in a civilized and adult manner, I realize that I'm dealing with a child. An angry and jealous child that can't seem to get over the fact that I've bested him at every turn. A child that seems to need a damning finality of a stipulation on a fight that he probably shouldn't be picking in order to get out of my light once and for all.

Isn't that right, Mark? Is that what you need? Do you need Mean Ol' Mr. Prescott to whip your ass all over Charlotte so you can finally put this one sided rivalry to bed? Is that what you need, pal? You need another shot at the man that allegedly ruined your life? For a guy that seems to be so smart and so connected and so great, you sure don't seem to be able to cut the strings I'm supposedly using to puppeteer you through your miserable existence. If I'm such a megalomaniac, why do you keep trying to stand in my way? If you want me out of your life, then let me go. I too want to be as far away from you as divinely possible and yet you're the one that can't seem to let the past be the past. You're the one that can't seem to let gypsy dogs lie. It's become a sickness at this point and once I put you down, for good, at Dreamworld, I want you to go talk to someone. Sign up for BetterHelp.com or something. Get yourself some much needed therapy to help you exorcize these demons that you've decided to project on to me.

With all that being said? This is the end of the line for you, Mark. We've been at this for far too long. You and I both have said pretty much everything we can to each other. You've ragged on me for being a rich prick that has everything I could ever want and your innate jealous nature has made it a priority for you to hate me because of my earned privilege. I've merely suggested that you need to take a shower or a bath a time or two. You've threatened my life on a multitude of occasions while I've merely suggested that things not be handled in such a crude and vile manner by offering you opportunities to beat me in fair combat within our squared circle. Everything that I've done, you've taken and twisted and defiled to make it fit your 'innocent underdog that's not going to take it anymore' narrative and that's just being plain disingenuous and as much as it's going to pain me to say this...

You're better than that.

But I digress.

At Dreamworld, the two of us are going to be locked in a battle that's years in the making. A final standoff between a man that has everything but nothing to lose and a man that can't buy a pot to piss in but wants everything to validate himself. When that bell rings and the two of us clash for yet another time, I want you to remember that everything that happens to you is because of you. I want you to remember that when I've decided you no longer deserve to be on this earth. Now hold on, before you get all high and mighty and think I'm threatening to kill you, all me to remind you that I'm not the one that's angry. I'm frustrated with having to try and put this annoying mosquito out of its misery. Again. When all I really want is to reign supreme as the Immortal Heavyweight Champion of Mount Olympus. But, apparently, I'm asking too much. I want to give Olympus the champion that they deserve and Mark Michaels wants to take that away from you all. He would much rather Olympus be underneath his own thumb. He would much rather be the one with the clout and the pull and the revelry that being a champion comes with. Oh no, the power surely won't go to his head, he'll be completely fine. His internal struggle with never being good enough certainly won't haunt his dreams nightly until the point he snaps and decides that he knows that's best for everyone. A tale as old as time but for some magical reason, it's just gonna' skip over you, huh Mark? You're the only man that's infallible? Hm? Is that it? You can resist those "dark" and "sinister" urges? I find that hard to believe since you're already such a terrible and spiteful person. Isn't that the whole reason we're going to Dreamworld? For your revenge?

Fortunately, after you surrender, we won't ever have to worry about you being Immortal Heavyweight Champion again.

This is it, Mark. This is your last chance to become something that people actually want to talk about. This is your last shot to find yourself in a position that you don't deserve. For everything you say I am and everything you claim I cause or blame me for, there's one thing that you haven't taken the time out of your hateful day to do. And that's thank me. I'm giving you this opportunity. I'm risking the only thing that matters to me so that you can have a chance to do something with your life. All I do is give. To you. To Olympus. To OWA. All I do is put my own stuff aside for what other people want. I joined the Tres Comas Club to help those idiots take over Olympus. I gave Elijah Hampton the vacation he so desperately needed. I saved this brand from the Darkness that Darkane threatened to trap it under. All of that was me. I put Olympus in the palm of my hand and I carried us to the clouds above and now, after all the work I put in, you want to just waltz in at the end of the road and take the only thing that I've taken for myself.

You believe me to be the villain to your unsung hero, Mark. But what do you think you are to me? I've done nothing but try to put myself in a position to be a better person than I was the day before and everyone has done everything in their power to lie to me, to cheat me, to destroy me. I may have everything in the world at my fingertips but I also have the biggest target on my back. There's no honor among thieves anymore. At least not in this business. You think I can trust the Tres Comas Club? You see what happened with Jason Long and his Cosplay Crew! Don't think I don't have one eye on Lazarus Arjen -- we have history that I don't care to repeat. Olympus is quickly becoming a dangerous place for a person of my skill and talent to be. And if I was as cowardly as you and the rest of the Omegaverse thinks I am, then I wouldn't be here. I'd be running to Kingdom. Or Odyssey. Or anywhere I won't have to deal with being targeted by everyone. If I was who everybody thinks I am, I would run. I would hide. I would find a way out of it. But here I am. Standing right here on the cusp of Dreamworld. Looking you dead in your greasy face, Michaels. Making this moment, of all our moments, the one that means the most. I'm not backing down. I'm not giving up. I'm not willing to let the person that has been a stick pin trapped in the shoulder of my newly tailored suit become something more than that. I'm not willing to allow you to continue to throw a wrench in my plans, in what I have set for the future of this brand and this company. I will now allow you to take away my Immortality. I've already died for this title once. I'm more than happy to do it again.

I know you want this championship, Michaels. I do. And I know you're going to do whatever you can to get it. I know that you're probably in the gym right now, lifting up the weight of everyone counting on you and thinking about how difficult I've allegedly made your life. But while you're doing all of that in preparation I want you to remember that you're only at this moment because of me. You're only this pissed off because of me. You've gotten better, stronger, more opportunities, even more of a slick bastard because of me. When it was just you steering your ship, or your van I suppose, you were spinning your wheels. You were barely scratching the surface of what you could become. It was not until I, Remington Ivory Prescott, decided to step into that ring with you did you realize you were going to have to do more than simply step your game up. I'm sure you thought that you'd be able to just waltz past this rich pretty boy and have the world at your feet. You thought you could just toss me aside and move on to the promised land.

Yet, here you are. Still trying to beat me. Still trying to find a way to stop me. Still fighting against every single odd and every single obstacle that I put in your way. You will not go quietly into that good night. You will not fail again. You will not be duped, tricked, swindled or bought ever again. These are the things that I know you're telling yourself and I'm even sure you believe them. But in all of these things, there's something that you have not yet considered. There's a facet, an option of this rivalry that you probably won't even think is a possibility. I'm willing to bet a cool million dollars that this thought hasn't even crossed your egotistical mind...

Despite everything that we've been through. Despite the fact that you keep coming back and I keep kicking you back down the ladder. All of your rage and tenacity won't allow you to see what's right in front of you. You can't see the forest for the trees. You, a man of gypsy tricks and three card monte, can't find the queen. You're ready to pour your heart and soul into this match and bring me everything you have. You're ready to put your own life on the line, as I have before, to take from me what you believe I don't deserve. You're ready to give this moment everything you have and then some. And that's what I want to, Mark. I want you to walk away, if you can, from this match a different person. I want you to leave Dreamworld knowing that you did everything you could to beat me and yet, once again, its been proven that I, Remington Ivory Prescott, OWA's Immortal Heavyweight Champion, am simply better than you.

Toodles.

For a decade now i have been running like a race horse, and now Here I am walking a razor’s edge, where fools and dreamers dare to tread. Ready to cross that line from contender to king. From long shot, to odds on favorite. From the head in the clouds, stars in his eyes kid watching wrestling on Saturday mornings, to the live in the flesh Immortal Heavyweight Champion.

A few negative nepotists will say I must be dreaming if I think I can finally achieve all that. But if the last pay per view wasn’t proof enough that I have what I takes, then allow me to tell you a story. See a weeks ago I was chilling with the twins and Harman watching the Super Bowl. Watching that game reminded me of an old gypsy saying which translated says we all dream because it is easy, but not all of us persevere. I saw the Chiefs stumble and play anything but their best ball in the first two quarters of that game. It looked like you may as well have just handed the trophy to the 49ers then and there at halftime, but a funny thing happened. I saw Kansas City shake off that ass whipping they got in the first half to fight and claw their way for every yard on every play, for every point. There were setbacks, and obstacles along the way, but they kept fighting till the end and got one hell of a victory for all their troubles. So for everyone wondering if after the last few weeks, whether I can walk away with my hand raised at Dream World? I’m here to say the second half is about to kick off, and Mark Michaels is ready to ball the fuck out!

I’m there is one thing I want to talk about, the one thing I want to stress above all, it has got to be Perseverance. It’s something Nathan Fiora stressed when the Awakening was first formed and none of us could buy a win. Something he brought out of me when we had our match back at game start. A long time ago I remember sitting in church when the preacher said something that I didn’t know it at the time, but would ring so true. He said the testing of your faith brings perseverance, and he who perseveres, wins the crown of life. no matter what I’ve been thought, Every time I’ve suffered some kind of bullshit tossed my way that made me think for one single second about giving up, I’ve heard a voice inside me repeating and reminding me that as long as I’m willing to go one more round, I’ve still got a chance. Now I’ve heard Remmington Ivory Prescott saying his ultimate goal is to be the man that finally broke Mark Michaels at Dream World. That it is his be all end all, dream above all dreams. Maybe if I was the kind of worms that he’s been surrounding himself with since he was a boy. The butlers, the yes men, the lackeys in the TCC who allow themselves to be bought and sold like livestock. Maybe If I was the kind of man to get down on my knees and lick boot just because some overprivileged prick demanded it, then maybe his dream of making the Romani King bow down at his feet might have a snowflake’s chance in hell of becoming reality. But I’m not some lap dog who’s gonna roll over and play dead just because Pusscott commands it. What has that asshole thrown at me that I haven’t gotten back up, dusted myself off, and proceeded to elevate above? Hell, if my entire EAW tenure, the break up of the Awakening, coming up short against Graham Baker, getting beat down by Jacob Senn in the Thundercage, getting assaulted by the Seventh Ward on my own front yard, getting arrested, getting fired, getting stabbed, if all that didn’t fucking break me, what the fuck makes you think this will be the time I finally wave the white flag and surrender?! Nobody can limit how far I can go, or what I can achieve. You got a better chance of Stark becoming the new poster child for the “just say no” campaign than of ever getting me to put my hands up and surrender on being the Immortal Heavyweight Champion.

The Cosmic Caravan in Charlotte, You all already know that I’ve had a dream since I was six years old To be a world Champion in professional wrestling. I’ve bled, and sweated to keep that dream alive. When I was just breaking in the business, and the money I got wrestling in bingo halls, and high school gyms was just enough to put gas in my car and make it to the next show I kept on remembering that old preacher’s words. When I got hurt, and I had to push myself as hard as I could in rehab to make it back into the ring I kept on calling on that old gypsy saying. When I found myself face down on the mat so exhausted that I couldn’t move not even a pinky finger, well you guys get the picture. Those words I heard so long ago have seen me through to the other side of so many trials and tribulations I have had to walk through. Oh and trust me I’ve been tested in many different ways in my career, but right now the biggest test of the Romani King has come in the form of a curly headed, spineless, sackless, sorry son of a bitch named Remington Ivory Prescott.
R.I.P., more like P.O.S. From where I’m standing. I hate admitting that this man has been the thorn in my side, the block I keep stumbling over, the stone I have to keep pushing up past the hill. I hate admitting that because I know that son of a bitch gets a tingle in his jollies hearing me say it. But this man has managed to turn the dream I’ve chased into a living nightmare time and again. At every turn I’ve had him pulling the rug out from under me, that is when he wasn’t plain cutting me off at the knees. I think back to Game Over, For me to be quite literally on top of the world one minute, then turn around the next and be made nothing more than a goddamn patsy. To see RIP being the guy to benefit from me busting my ass, It was a gut punch to say the least. I won’t lie to anyone watching this, the fact that he robbed me blind of my shot at the Immortal Heavyweight title, well that just hurts me as a gypsy, no cap on that. But More than that, being an unwitting cog having served RIP’s plans and machiavellian machinations, made me sick to my stomach. Then having to bail his ass out of a jam against Jason Long damn near gave me an ulcer. I swore I’d never be this man’s stooge again, that I wouldn’t so much as tell him the time of day if it helped the son of a bitch in any way, shape, or form. For that little cunt to bring me back to the bad old days of when I was under his thumb, well you can use any word you feel that’s a synonym for disgusted, and plain pissed off that you please on that one! Now the question is what am I gonna do about it? Well spoiler alert, as long as I’m breathing there’s no way in hell I’m allowing my journey to end with that bastard getting the last laugh. you can bet your ass on that!

That said, I know this little spit fuck all too well to know he’s bound to have some bullshit up his sleeve. It’s RIP we’re talking about, so going into a match with the bastard means I’m not just facing him, or all his daddy’s money buying him easy wins by pulling every string to keep one arm tied behind my back. It’s not just facing off against the chosen puppet of the TCC, which means the rest of those sell out fucks will be sure to be standing between me and the Immortal Championship, by making sure to stick me long before I ever get a clean shot at RIP. But that’s all an appetizer. The real thing you have to be aware of is the fact that there’s no low Remington won’t stoop to for him to worm his way to keeping the Immortal Heavyweight Championship. I don’t think any of us can forget that the last time we were in a match together RIP left me bleeding out on the canvas for the whole world to see, I know I sure haven’t. All things being equal you can see why I say he stands as The biggest road block between me and getting the thing I’ve just about moved heaven and earth to achieve. That’s not me lacking for confidence but I have got to give this devil his due. Every little way he’s been screwing me over for the past 2 years, its been hell to deal with, and it’s been hard at times for my family to see. And while I’ve been working my way back up everytime he pulls one of his little stunts, he’s been sticking it to me with that shit eating grin of his. Well after Dream World the next time he decides to crack a smile, expect to see him have a few teeth missing. The way I see RIP right now is like the embodiment of Every doubt I could ever get this far, every scoff by anyone who thought the idea of Mark Michaels being a world champion, every jackass who said I’d never amount to anything because of my heritage, it has all been personified to me in this rat bastard son of a bitch.

So with all that in mind people have been asking what exactly is my mindset going into this match? Well to quote a wise man who once said, I’m not a killer, but don’t push me! I believe a man gets back what he puts in. That people get what they deserve. That saying goes both ways. I’ve been staying striving and surviving, put in the hard work and the long hours, carrying my weight and then some. case in point I dig down deeper than I ever have inside the ring, to beat Nathan Fiora. A man who’s not just a former world champion, but a hall of Famer. Beating him proved that I belong among the top talents Olympus has to offer. But ain’t no rest when you’re the king of the hustlers, so I follow it up with something that silenced the critics and proved that when the stakes are the highest, I can get the job done no matter the odds. I proved that by rising above 5 of the hungriest OWA superstars, all of whom were looking for an opportunity to cash in for gold. I’m at the absolute top of my game right now, Remington knows all about that because he always needs me to do the heavy lifting when he wants a damn belt in this company. I’ll talk all about doing for him what he knows he can’t do for himself in a moment. But in the meantime, I want the money grubbing little shit to think about how he has spent a lifetime’s of treating people like dirt, screwing them out of everything they worked for, and then has the gall to go walking around acting like he did them a favor doing so. I want him to think how he got a small spoonful of karma when Jason Long sucker punched him and gave him a taste of his own medicine. Dream world is the main course that I am gonna shove down his throat. considering everything this man-wait scratch that because this jackass has no balls. Considering everything this gutless fuck has put me, and anyone else who has ever had the misfortune of have to deal with him, through, then you better believe i am making it my personal mission to show Remington here just why they say paybacks are a bitch! After everything you’ve done, son you’d best get your affairs in order, because if you think this thing between us hasn’t gotten far too personal, or that I’m treating this as business as usual, well I’m sorry but your ass doesn’t get to lose that easy this time. When you step into that ring, you are stepping into the kind of night that will have you checking under your bed to make sure the Romani King isn’t there. I’m making it my business to become your worst nightmare, I mean coming after you like Rambo. Never backing down, never shying away, and not a damn thing you can do to keep me from tearing you a new asshole. Remington, I promise you it sure as hell won’t be no sweet lullaby when I put you down. Motherfucker it’s hunting season in Charlotte come Dream World.

Come Dream World there won’t be any stopping me from stomping out like a Carolina cockroach. Ain’t no way I’m not repaying you in kind for all the mace, the daggers, the cheep shots, the threats to my family, the utter contempt in your eyes when you blasted me upside the head with that loaded punch. When the bell rings, there will be nothing that will slow me down, or even think twice about what I’m gonna do to you. There ain’t a damn thing that will slow me down, never mind stop me from getting what’s mine, and giving you what’s long been overdue.

you once asked me why I keep going? What makes me get back up and tell you to go fuck yourself no matter why it is that you throw at me? There’s actually a couple reasons. See the first reason is that you have managed to piss me off to a level I never thought possible. Second is that what people like you, Remington, don’t get is that when you hustle for a living on your grind day and night, there can’t be no quit in you. When you work every single day to make ends meat, you don’t even let that thought cross your mind. It also means that sometimes you work harder, or longer. It also means you sometimes have to deal with a mountain of bullshit. But in the end you when you get everything you’ve been working your ass off for, it’s that much sweeter. See to me the Immortal Championship isn’t just a piece of tin to hang on a mantle. I don’t want to just have a nice little prize I can show daddy to prove I’m not a billion dollar waste of sperm. To me it’s not treat for being a good sport because I learned the basics in wrestling school before having my butler give me a rub down with a happy ending. This is a sport I love. This is something I give every bit of my energy, hell I’d give my life for. And I believe that being a champion means you are the very best, that something about you is worth a damn so long as you got it the right way. So long as the guy holding the belt is there not just to sit on a throne, but to lead those around him through the deepest valleys and the highest mountains. To leave the business better than he found it instead of dying on the vine. Simply put I believe a championship needs a champion, and it’s the guy holding it that makes the title, not the other way around. I’m telling you right now Remington, you might hold the championship, but you sure as hell are no champion. I’ve never been a fan of Jacob Senn, or Darkane but at least I can say they got the belt you have clutched in your sweaty little palms, they got it the right way. They went out, looked a man in the eyes, and beat him in the middle of the ring. You tried to get that belt the same way, and you got your ass handed to you. And the damn thing is you knew exactly that it was gonna happen. For all the talk Remington has given about getting the job done with his own two hands nowadays, he sure as shit still needs me to do all the heavy lifting so his ass can just barely manage to collapse over the finish line. so you signed your name on that contract, and boy has that yellow streak running up your spine never looked bigger. You know part of me sees the silver lining in this one instance of you being the sniveling little cunt you are. I’m glad because now to win a world title, I get to do it by beating the piss out of the biggest piece of chicken shit I’ve ever seen.


Now when I step through those ropes, I’m walking into that ring ready to prove to everybody that if you got the heart, if you got the perseverance, you can achieve the biggest of dreams, and to hell with anyone telling you what you can’t do when they haven’t walked an inch In your shoes. I was never anyone’s pick for most likely to succeed. I wasn’t hyped up when I signed here with OWA, all I had was an opportunity. I exceeded most everyone’s expectations, so me and the rest of the Cosmic Caravan are here saying what’s showing one more stuffy douche with an opinion he pulled straight out of his ass just what can happen when you put hustle and heart in everything you do. Anyone who has ever been successful will tell you that without a dream you will never reach your destination, but I am here today to say I’m not coming into this match a dreamer wishing on a star. The great Tar Heel, Michael Jordan, once said that Champions find a way to make it happen. I’m putting all that I got to finally get what I’ve spent years chasing after. After that bell rings Remington, and everything is said and done, you’ll go to sleep closing those swollen, black and blue, tear filled eyes. And I’ll be sleeping with a smile on my face because im gonna unleash every bit of anger, disappointment, frustration, all on the greediest rat who’s about to walk into a lion’s den. I I promise you all that Nothing will be finer than to be in Carolina on that morning after Dream world, when I wake up your new Immortal Heavyweight Champion.