OWA Promos

Here is where you can post your work for upcoming matches on weekly shows or major events, or just put up a piece for character development. Before you get started here are the rules of the page!

-There is a TWO promo/2000 word limit for our regular bi-weekly shows and THREE promo/3000 word limit for our major events! For our side show Atlantis it is only ONE 2000 word promo.

- Promo deadlines are two days before the show (So, a Saturday show has a Thursday deadline for example.) The only exception is Atlantis which allows for a day before.

-If everyone involved in a match would like to extend or shorten the promo limit due to personal circumstances or preference, you have two days at the start of the new promo week to confirm with a member of the writing team the agreed upon limit for your match, if not it will remain the standard limit set for bi-weeklies and major shows.

-You must wait 48 HOURS before double posting. If your opponent has not responded to your first promo within a 48 hour period and you'd like to release another, you may do so. However keep in mind that with the promo limit, if you expend both promos, your opponent has the right to do their two (or three on a PPV week) uninterrupted.

-The page is not a place to make challenges or try to book matches!

-Do not break kayfabe! Remember that everything is entirely storyline based and there is no reason to either take things personally, or make it personal for someone else.

-Have fun! Enjoy writing your work and feel free to hit up the chat for feedback!

Re: OWA Promos October 30th 2020, 11:02 pm by **Michael Bishop**

February 2019

“Michael, sweetie…”

(We find ourselves in Loretto Hospital, West Chicago… a woman in her fifties is lying down on a hospital bed, an IV currently feeds her water as a heart monitor, a respirator, and other machines currently keep her alive. Laura Bishop. Her son is sat right beside her, hunched over in his chair as she tries to meet his eyes…)

“Michael….”

(He’s in deep contemplation… bags under his eyes, looking much older than he had months before. A symptom of his forced retirement).

“Michael … -“ (Laura coughs hard into the bed sheet) “-… Bishop”

(He looks at his mother… the warm stare she gives back would have you believe he didn’t get his swearing from her).

“They said another surgery and you’ll be good-”,

“-Michael it’s so expensive…. The cost is tallying up”. Michael shakes his head “Doesn’t matter… I’ve got enough royalties from fighting, we’ll get through this”, “Michael. Enough”.

(His lip locks shot as he finally stops his rambling, she reaches out, brushing his hair back… he’s got a very unkempt and unhinged look to him).

“You can’t keep doing this honey… you’re spending all this effort trying to help me and not yourself”.

“There’s nothing to help, look…. Mom my time is done, my legs fucked, but if I can save you-”,

“-Just stop. I’m not going through another surgery, Mikey”. He shakes his head “It’s just… one more and you’ll”,

“Michael…” he stares sheepishly at her “-I’m not gonna live the rest of my life being operated on and soaking up my sons money when he’s got a wife and dog to take care of….”.

(Michael drops his head, Laura reaches out, grabbing his hand).

“....It’s okay, Michael”,

“It’s not- fuck, it’s not. God dammit”,

“Michael…. You’ve been fighting battles all your life, in a bitter world against evil people…. And you’re losing. You’re losing because you’re letting all the guilt you pick up weigh you down…. And it hurts me because I know you don’t have to be like this, I know you can win”.

(Michael looks up, a glossed over look in his eye).

“I’m sorry”,

“Don’t be. Never be… I’ve had a good, long life… and I did it with a son I could not be more fucking proud of. You’ve proven you didn’t need to be a product of their making, of this city’s making….”.

(Laura breaks out into a coughing fit, Michael becomes tense. As her breathing calms down, she shakes her head gripping his hand tightly).

“I need you to promise me”,

“Anything...”,

“I need to hear it…. Michael…. I need you to promise me you’ll find a way out of this. Out of all the guilt you’ve been carrying with you, out of all the shit you’re caught up in. I need you to way out of the misery of that leg of yours… Promise me… that you’ll find a way out of this. You’ll find a better life… for you, for those kids down in Philadelphia…. For that sweet girl Rebecca…. Win this war, Michael… Promise me, Michael”.

(there’s a heaviness in his breathing, his eyes clench shut as all of the doubt, the anxiety, the heat of it all weighs on him. And then, a moment of clarity as he looks into his mother’s eyes for the last time).

“...I promise”

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

It’s been one hell of a year, hasn’t it? Started it off wondering if I was gonna be able to climb the steep slope of return, and there I was entering at #26, fighting at Final Destination, and spent the summer throwing world contenders around in a Steel Asylum. I went from fighting old Christopher one on one, to fighting for our lives inside of his haunted meth den. I went from regarding Aria Jaxon as one of my closest friends, to realizing she’s the same malicious bitch…. All she did was change her hair from black to blue.

Betrayal, War, Bullshit and blood….

....And I wouldn’t have had it any other fucking way.

You probably thought me dead and done, didn’t you Aria? Old Michael came up short during the summer and so it’s off to pasture… sorry it took so long, a title match down to the line I actually prep for them, train for them, get my self into the best possible shape I can so I have no drawbacks once I step up the stairs. It’s something I pride myself on having while the rest of the roster is too busy signing movie deals, and sitting on the JRE Podcast…

It’s a difference that forever separates you and me… The between the opponents you’ve faced and beaten, and the one standing across from you.

Aria, I’m not ashamed to admit that I’ve lost, a little fact you duck around every time you open your trap. I’ve been beaten down, I have lost, the man standing before you is a culmination of pain, fury, and learning from mistakes. The older I grow, the less I make, and recently the one mistake I’ve made was believing in this company and the champions who currently rule with titles around their waists. The only mistake I made was going into that fight expecting more from the Outlaw Queen, believing the mean bitch I’d watched would meet the challenge one on one- Instead of taking a sloppy finish and having cloud drag her out of hell.

The only mistake I made was believing the Aria Jaxon strutting around was still, actually, Aria fuckin’ Jaxon.

And yet, here we are, eh Aria?

8 months after I clawed my way out of the grave,

5 months after I squared up to the queen.

5 months of fighting,

5 months of of win streak after win streak,

5 months of paving a road to champions off of stacked bodies and broken fuckin’ dreams.

And now here we are!!

Here!! We!! 'Fuckin’ are!!

6 defenses strong, and a rock hard ego, you’ve built yourself up to be the world beater on Kingdom having not lost a step since that knife to the stomach. Bullshit. Who have you beaten? You’ve beaten Goto, a woman on her way out. You’ve beaten Torres, who’s now MIA. You’ve beaten Maverick, another cheating little cunt who I scrambled even when outnumbered. You haven’t beaten me. You got a few good kicks, you even drew some blood, but every single fuckin’ time I got my hands on you, you got dragged out on a stretcher. Clutching your title, praying for someone to help you. You brought in Stephanie to yank you out of trouble. You two made your little echochamber segments who you drank your own koolaid- and in the end you threw her under the bus and let her forehead take all the abuse that’s due for you.

You used up all your friends, all your support, and now you find yourself at the end of the road….

In the cage, in the blood sports pit; in Dreadknight Country.

Aria you once said I was playing a game of whack a mole. Maybe that was true. Maybe it was the guilt, maybe it was the long dead camaraderie. No more. This ain’t your turf, it’s mine. You can kick, you can punch, you can scream, you can cheat, because when I close that distance all you’re gonna do is go die, tired with a glazed over thousand yard stare. I ain’t letting up, I ain’t giving you a fuckin’ inch!! You’re gonna feel what knight felt, what chris felt, what Maelstrom felt, what Kyle felt, what Bannon felt. What 40 motherfuckers felt as I sunk my teeth in deep, dragged them down, and shook ‘em like an animal thirsting for blood.

When they got down there, all I smelt on those socal killers was fear.

When the chips were down, you didn’t slay, you quit and tried to find an out.

But let me guess,

“Michael, it won’t be different”,

“Michael, you’re delusional”,

“Michael, Michael, Michael”-.

-Shut The Fuck Up.

This isn’t a singles classic, this isn’t SSW, this Blood Sports, mothafucker.

It’s my citadel, it’s the trenches I’ve been fighting in for 20 years, honing my craft, sharpening my blades, snapping bones, cracking ribs, and breakin’ dreams. There is no room to breath, there is no room to scheme, the only room you’ll have are those precious few seconds before I come rushing forward. When you’re ground up against the cage, when Stephanie can no longer help you, when all you hear is the ringing and Gia screaming your name… Only then will you know, too late, that you’ve run out of time, blood, room, shit to pull, and luck.

The difference between them and you, is they were challengers trying to fight the good fight against an Outlaw. You fight like a wolverine, you scrape and do whatever it takes to win.. Even if it means undermining the strap you carry. The difference is I don’t crack under pressure, I don’t get tired and stop after one bout, one round, quit after one month because it’s too hard, it’s too much. I’ve survived because the fire that burns deep within my dark soul is hotter than the flames that try to burn me away. I’ve survived, because the why was greater than the how, greater than the what. When it came down to survival and death, I chose the road less traveled, the hard climb of forcing myself to be who I needed to be, to do what needed to be done, to fight for those who needed me, who couldn’t.

You once said, no one cares about what you’ve been through, it doesn’t matter. It fuckin’ does!! You don’t get to the higher level without having to dig deep, you don’t get to stand tall without getting your shit knocked so hard. You don’t get that fire lit under your ass out a reason, you don’t get to fight like everything depends on it, because it does, without the righteousness burning deep down to guide you.

I am undefeatable, I am unshakable, when the chips were down Aria you couldn’t stop me, you could barely delay me by the skin of your teeth. I am potential realized, I am retribution personified, I am a creature of adaptation, born out of blood. I am the reaper coming to collect, I am the Dreadknight sitting atop a mountain of skulls, the beast you’ve been trying to outrun for an entire season. You’ve beaten the rest, you cheated me. You thought yourself immortal, untouchable, you robbed me of redemption… you screwed the devil, and you will pay the fucking price.

The difference between the others you’ve faced, and the blue corner in front of you, is that I know what must be done, I know what I have to do, what I will do. I am coming and I am not going to stop, I am here to keep a promise I’ve long owed. I am here to take my redemption by force, I am here to take the crown, take the title, take the world, and take down The Queen.

So say it with me.

AND!! FUCKING!!! NEW!!!!

-------

https://owaonline.forumotion.com/viewtopic.php?t=1083

VaeVictisBD, Diantha Rosso, Scott Oasis, J.D. Damon and Mav. have spoken. It’s such good shit!

Re: OWA Promos October 28th 2020, 7:30 pm by **Emmanuelle**

Show No Quarter

OWA Promos Pirate_Flag_of_Jack_Rackham.svg_

[In a clean, nearly empty office room, April has a small camera and tripod set up, recording her as she sits at an ordinary-looking office desk. The room is fairly spartan in appearance, no decorations or pomp. April herself looks tired, her hair slightly disheveled and a small bandage applied to where she was busted open by Natalie Cage during the previous night’s Odyssey broadcast.]

When I signed with OWA in April of 2019, I was promised the world. The best competition, title matches, the ability to appear on multiple brands. The opportunity to challenge the best wrestlers on the planet be they male or female. I was promised the world. I was given tales of gold, glory and godhood that made me feel like the Belle of the ball. When I get here...what do I find? I find the same corrupt power structure that I left behind in Elite Answers Wrestling seeping here, infecting the brass...POISONING them. I find arrogant female wrestlers who seem more comfortable beating inferior men instead of facing women on equal footing. I find, just as I found in EAW...a glass ceiling in place. If you’re not in a certain group of people, be they friends of the general manager, the champion or her stable of choice...that you never get the same opportunities. Your opportunities are limited, if they exist at all.

I know a glass ceiling when I find one. I’ve been made to jump through hoops ever since I arrived here in OWA. I never, TO THIS DAY, got the OWA Openweight Championship match I was expressly promised when I signed here. Some people may say that “April, why are you so concerned about that title? Your aim should be much higher!” In reality it is. Who doesn’t lace up a pair of boots and aspire to be a World Champion? A World Tag Team Champion? But it’s the principle that has me more infuriated than anything. You’ve all seen the card for the next show and I’ll address the match I have there soon enough, but do any of you honestly believe that the three individuals who were named for this match have something on their resume that can compare to what Revy, Jonetta, La Llorona, and myself have done in this sport? Can anyone point to anything that would make those four worthy of a title match and not us?

I’m going to break this down very quickly and on an individual case by case basis.

La Llorona: She has put together a run that SHOULD make her a frequent world title challenger. She should have won the Promethean Chamber, she made it to the finals of the Athena’s Cup tournament. If Stephanie Matsuda or Dulce Torres or Natalie Cage had done that, they would be hailed as Queens by you nerds on social media “YASSS QUEEN! SLAY QUEEN SLAY!” and bullshit like that. Where is she in the World Championship discussion? Shit, where is she in the Goddesses Championship discussion? Nowhere. That’s an absolute disgrace and an insult to the career she’s put together in such a short time. We’ve had people come out and get world title chances by asking nicely and being polite to the right people, or the fans feeling sympathy for them. We should have them given out of RESPECT and MERIT.

Jonetta Stone: I already know, most of you are going to ramble about how she has the Athena’s Cup and doesn’t need to be aligned with us. She can call her shot. And that is true, she doesn’t need us. She doesn’t need our help to attain the championship or whatever she wants to do. But the thing is….she recognizes the injustice going on because she was a victim of the same injustices before. There is no sense that a woman who was the powerhouse of one of the most dominant tag teams OWA has ever seen should be reduced to second fiddle, watching and waiting while people like Niki Khan and Alyssa Grace and even that horror film caricature are given the world. She shouldn’t have to rely on something she had to jump through hoops to attain. She’s a powerful, dominant athlete who deserves a place among not just Odyssey but OWA’s elite.

Revy: A champion everywhere she’s been, one of the most determined and gritty competitors that there is in this company. You people see a joke, someone you can hurl insults at to make yourselves feel better. You know what I see? I see someone who can just as easily win a World title as any of the other three of us. I see someone who would make a worthy tag partner so we can relieve OWA of the embarrassment that is the tag team title scene and install some pride and much needed stability that hasn’t been seen in a while. I see a gifted athlete and a friend and I refuse to watch her be neglected for the like of this bauble that makes up that Openweight title eliminator.

And then there is me. Of everyone listed, I am a former Goddesses champion, the only one who can lay claim to holding a singles belt here, Jonetta’s Cup triumph notwithstanding. We see certain former Goddesses Champions like Dulce Torres frequently feature in the main event scene. We see former World Champions like my disgrace of a former tag partner and her mentor, like Azumi Goto, rotated in and out and back and forth...holding the rest of the roster down with their politics and public asskissing of each other. We have a general manager who is in fact ROMANTICALLY INVOLVED with one of the alleged top wrestlers on the brand. When the Iron Squadron weren’t taken seriously as a team, despite the fact we pried another organization’s tag team titles away from their holders, I knew nothing I could do was enough. When I can’t get a fair shake TEAMING with one of the parasites, what chance do I have? I remember being left out of the Promethean Chamber. I remember being screwed over and over and over again by Matsuda without redress from management. I remember not even getting a secondary title opportunity after pummeling the Banshee. I remember not even getting a pat on the back for surviving that disgusting world champion from Olympus.

I’ve beaten just about everyone there is to beat in this sport. Cage, Jaxon, Matsuda, Michaels, Ava, Goto, Valentine, Anderson-Tolsen...I could continue but I don’t like bragging. The only reason my resume isn’t filled with the names of more women is that every once in a while I get bored and have to wrestle men because some of the younger ones aren’t quite up to par. But I don’t blame the weaklings that reside on this roster for this. What match are commoner’s girls for the daughters of Titans? The only way that they’ll ever have a chance to improve is by getting fair competition with the best of us. They don’t deserve to be held down anymore than we do. The problem is that OWA is choosing to have certain individuals CIRCUMNAVIGATE us. Just like your precious Four Pillars of Odyssey’s heaven, the four of us are Guard Dogs of Odyssey’s hell. We are tired. We are angry, and we’re not going to let this stand anymore.

That brings me to my opponent this week at long last. Rebecca, I don’t know you that well and I don’t have any interest in you. We’ve wrestled before in a tag team match before and that’s the extent of my knowledge of you. I know you have a poor record here in OWA and I know that you’re not quite on my level. This match isn’t about beating you out of enjoyment or frustration, it’s not about beating you to get to another more important match out of it. If I can beat Natalie Cage and Morrighan McDonnell in back to back singles outings and get nothing for it, what would it serve me to beat you? But this match, and therefore you, have a purpose this week. Using your body as the paper on which to write my message, I’m going to dictate a long, thorough letter to Viola Demarco and Scott Oasis. Through your suffering, maybe they will get a further understanding of what I’m here for and what me and my friends and associates are about. If you want to get mad after the fact, blame them. I have given them opportunity after opportunity to address my grievances. Even after LEAVING NATALIE CAGE LAYING AND MAKING SURE DULCE TORRES LEFT THE ARENA ON A STRETCHER, THEY PASS ME AND MY FRIENDS OVER! Instead of title opportunities they LEAVE REVY AND JONETTA, TWO WORKHORSES OFF THE CARD ENTIRELY? Stephanie Matsuda shows up to steal a paycheck and DEVI KRYSIS gets a match...but those two don’t? And don’t think it’s lost on me that Natalie vs Llorona is a No Holds Barred match! They want to try to punish us, humiliate us, degrade us.

That’s why I’m wrestling a no-name. They know it bothers me. They know I feel unchallenged, disrespected and they’re expecting me to stumble because of it. They expect me to take it lightly. BUT I. WILL. NOT.

Rebecca, very bad things are about to happen to you. I’m going to punish you. I’m going to submit you, and I’m going to make sure that every bit of anguish, every bit of pain that you go through translates very well on television. I want everyone in the Omega Wrestling Alliance holding gold to seek the match out. It’s quite educational with regard to their future. And as you’re going through all this suffering, understand that your pain is temporary and that it will not be in vain. Maybe seeing you stretchered out will convince them that not listening to the wishes of the most dominant group of individual talent in OWA history isn’t the wisest thing. I just want you to know, once again, that this isn’t about you personally. I know you’re just another young face trying to make a name for yourself, trying to make your way in this cruel business. You don’t understand what’s happening around you just yet and for that reason you’re not going to be permanently damaged.

This place needs me and my friends. All of us have our place in this. Jonetta showed us that even the privileged and highly favored can see injustice and fight it. Llorona showed us all that even with every bit of skill that we have we can still be overlooked. Revy opened all of our eyes to this injustice and united us behind a common cause. Me?

With my vision, Odyssey will become a place of opportunity for all. The four of us, the exact opposite of the Four Pillars, are going to take back this brand and indeed this company from the corruption that’s contaminated it. WE are going to re-educate and enlighten these spoiled fans of what true pro wrestling is, and tear down the mediocrity and weakness of the Pillars of Odyssey once and for all! Everything that I do has a purpose, a vision. Every challenge thrown down, every tweet that so many of you grumble about on social media. Everything. This match too has its purpose and it will be fulfilled.

And if my demands and the demands of my comrades aren’t met?

Well....

Dulce will have plenty of friends to keep her company in the hospital. As will young Miss Brookes.

The body count is going to continue to rise until OWA realizes that I mean business. Besides, it will be mighty hard to run an all-female brand if 90 percent of the roster is on the shelf. I didn’t want to do this, I didn’t want to put people like Rebecca and Devi and so many of the young up and comers in this sort of perilous position, but the powers that be have given us no alternative. We will tear this place apart, brick by brick, pillar by pillar, until there is absolutely nothing left.

I’ve played nice and polite long enough.

From here on, I give no quarter to anyone standing in the way of my dream and the dreams of all my comrades in arms. Actions have consequences. Odyssey is about to start realizing theirs.

The Banshee and NikiKhanKTA have spoken. It’s such good shit!

Re: OWA Promos October 28th 2020, 2:41 pm by **Devi Krysis**

North Carolina Welcome

Odyssey LV #1

12:40pm

The Appalachian Pub

(It's almost afternoon time and Appalachian Pub is set to open, the employees are coming in preparing, mostly the Bartender he must be infuriated after what Gwen Harper and Jeff X caused at Atlantis.)

Bartender: *sigh* Look, i'm not gonna ask on what happened the other day between Jeffrey and Gwen beating down the Trucker and his Female Hicks. And to make matters worse, those dumbasses didn't pay and they can expect Scott Oasis to pay the tab for them?

Employer: Look, i'm sure that it'll turn out sooner than later, maybe they won't come back and start causing trouble again.

Bartender: i'm hope not..

(Suddenly a Yellow Ford Mustang GT appeared, about to the park in the front of the pub, turns out it was Devi driving it. Coming out with her shades, black jacket with the Wolvesden T-Shirt, blue jeans and red VANS. As she's walking in the pub, the employees and even Bartender who looks a little pissed.)

Devi: Hi there I'm looking for the Bartender that had problems with my friend Jeff X and Gwen Harper?

Bartender: Who's asking?

Devi: My name's Devi Krysis i'm a friend of Jeff X and i'm not really friends with Gwen Harper cause we face each other twice and beat me. So I hear that Jeff X didn't pay you?

Bartender: Yes, both of them didn't pay, they putting on Scott Oasis bar tab.

Devi: *sigh* Those idiots, you know what let me pay the tab, I don't want to be too much a burden to all of you.

Bartender: Wow, thank you so much!

(TV showing the next week Odyssey promo has they run down the match card has Bartender looked on and saw Devi on tv has she's go one on one against One half of The World Tag Team Champions Stephanie Matsuda.)

Bartender: Wait you're facing The legendary Stephanie Matsuda for the first time?

Devi: Yep! My Adorkable partner beat her at Atlantis, so it's my turn to beat her, but unfortunately her partner Aria "2 Belts" Jaxon will not be there. And What happened to Kingdom, Q.O.W is still holding The World Tag Team Championships. Those dumb Ashes didn't cut the mustard and win the belts, so Yakko and Wakko (Maverick and Abholos) work on there comedy musical routine and get there asses back in line.

(Bartender and the employees are laughing.)

Devi: Well I'm about to be get going, about to plan a Championship celebration for Niki Khan in her honor. There will be pizza, breadsticks, chips, donuts, soda, alcohol, and mostly importantly we gonna play UFC on Xbox one. And one more thing Revy and her Skank friends are not invited, I don't care if they get angry and pissed, I was closed to winning the Tag Team match, if it wasn't for her.

Bartender: Talk about a good time, oh and good luck in your match, will be watching.

Devi: Thanks, have a good day guys!

(Bartender and Employees in the Appalachian Pub wave at Devi has she leave the pub, get in her Ford Mustang GT and head home to prepare the Niki Khan's Championship celebration.)

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

2:05pm

Devi's home, preparing the party for Niki Khan.

Well! The Tag Team match didn't go has planned but we had that match one, if it wasn't that meddling Revy. I pretty sure that I say to her, really took it the heart. No matter Revy and Skanks are on thin ice the next time, but now I need to focus because next week is a North Carolina homecoming for Untamed Bloodwolf as I'm going one on one against One half of The World Tag Team Champions Stephanie Matsuda! This match could be match of the year candidate written all over. But Matsuda if my memory serves me right...that my Adorkable Friend Azzy beat you at Atlantis! So if I defeat you..we can all agree that me and Azzy are next in line for the World Tag Team Title shot! So The Ashes had there chance to win those belts at Kingdom and they blow it! So at the Odyssey in Chapel Hill, North Carolina, my turf! I'll have a hometown advantage, my family and friends from the MMA Summer Camp will be supporting me and so has my Adorkable Partner. So i'll see you there next week and now i'm gonna to plan a Championship celebration for Niki Khan.

(Devi is finished talking about her match for next week's Odyssey has she started preparing for Niki Khan's Championship celebration, as the camera shot fades.)

Re: OWA Promos October 26th 2020, 12:00 am by **El Ironico**

LOS SEVEN

Ironico Olympus Promo

Am I bothered?

Am I fuckin’ bothered that Sticcboi couldnae keep out of my business on me long awaited, calibrated in ringo returno last Olympus? Yam I angry that he just couldnae bear to watch as I did what he couldnae, pulling it out of the bag with the ease of a night of vino, Marvin Gaye, and personal lubricant. Nae, youns. I don’t feel nowt. I don’t give a flying fuck, chavos. Nae a wee bairn of a slow, easy, screw. Chill as a Mandy pill because what happened at t’ end of da night didnae mean shite. Sure, Neon Blue Cocklips got the pin. But now ah yam getting chances tossed like a salad at me with this whole Hybrid Champo lark. Where’s that chico, Cocklips? He ain’t on the fuckin’ card mate. Couldnae even claw his onto Atlantis, so who really won here? All youns know what yous saw. Clear as vodka on a sunny day from last week performanciento…

I AM THE FUCKING BOLLOCKS!!!

I AM JACK THE LADITO!!!

I’M LOOKING 20P IN THE 10P PICK AND MIX!!!

And that’s why we vamos on. Really woulda liked the chance to notch one on sticc-cunt this week but we don’t do downers here, only happy pills. The way I see it, Finnlar’s done me the biggest right solid favor he ever has because now that I’ve got his attention, well… now we only got all youns lots eyes innit? We’ve drawn the line and crossed it and now somewhere back there there’s a pencil pushing prick neck geek dotting the I’s and crossin’ the Ts. Finn’s already signed himself up for the biggest lamping of his life when he meets me officialito like down the roadio. So while the very thought of his old amigo Ironico drives him up the wall, Imma take easy, crack open a brew or 9 and enjoy everything else that comes my way.

See, I’m eager as Hunter Biden on a chinese crack yacht… But we really don’t have to throw handyfists reet now. Yam real chuffed to finally have Finn’s undivided attention after years of being ignored. But if yous think he’s the only chico on my mind, think on. Yam nae so petty to give him that satisfaction. Bulimia Boy had bigger fish to fry? Well so do I. He’s just the first item on a long shopping list of faces that I wanty lamp in a Tesco’s carpark. Laditas and gentlecunts… I present…

LOS SEVEN (a shitlist):

NUMERO UNO - Finnegan “Cunt’ Wokefield

Si, it may in fact be Finnegan “cunt’ Wokefield. For the crimes of a being a fucking lightweight cunder cunt and the fakest amigo in lucha wrestling, NAE, THE SHITTIEST SKIDMARK IN DEL FUCKING MUNDO MUNDIAL!!! He’s got to be at the top of the very list. But he’s not the only uno by a long shot.

NUMERO DOS - Keelan “The Russian Snag Blower” Callihan.

If yous wrasslin’ fandom lightweights didnae have a clue who t’ flamin’ fuck I was and what my relationship with Finnlar was, you may be a wee bit gobsmacked to ken that a) his government is Cetinich b) He has a nude painting of Putin on his wall & c) me and Special K also had something special. At least I reckoned we did. Now I know that really the only thing special about Keelan is his needs. At one point it was the highlight of my career. The most proud I’ve ever been was when I worked out how to open a botty of lager with nothing but the backside of a lighter. But the segundo most chuffed to fuck with meself that has ever happened was Keelan asked the Bollocks to be on his 8-man ironman team. Just being asked made me prouder than even winning the feckin’ thing. It meant something. Maybe. Fuck it, it did to me once but here’s the long and wee end of it… I was there when Keelan needed me. I showed up. But over these last two years he never did. Cunt. One of these days I’ll make sure the only way he can ingest a snag is through his fucking arsehole. But he’d probably enjoy it the fucking nonce.

NUMERO THREECITO - Scott “Roidy Bwoi” Oasis.

Now, okay. I can’t say I was ever close to Scott Oasis at EAW. Did this chavo personally betray me, stab me in the back or leave me high and fuckin dry like Keelan and The Sticc? Nae. So he’s down a wee bit on number threecito. But don’t get things twisted. This cunt deserves just as much shit as far as I reckon. Let me tell you about what Scott Oasis meant to me making my first steps in the BIG BAD GRANDE LEAGUES at EAW. He was my fuckin’ idol, chicos. I loved him more than my Gran loves Robbie Williams and we buried her with her Take That albums. I don’t love him in a gay way mind. I’m not fucking bent but somewhere along the lines he went and bended of worse than a nine bob note. This was a man who didnae take any shit, the pinnacle of wrasslin. The Bollocks named our ultimate uber finishing maneuver after him. THE OASIS DRIVER! It struck fear into the hearts of many a tag team but Scott went and mucked up that memory even worse than Finnbwoi when he sold out and became another spineless suit sitting on his arse taking bread from the little guy. Never meet your heroes, chicos. Except me, I’m a bonafide working class hero until I die and I do it better than Roidy Bwoi ever did.

NUMERO QUADBIKE - Aria “Methadrone” Jaxon

Ok this one’s not personal I promise. She’s just a cunt. Plain and simple. I ken it. Youns ken it. She and all her goons ken it. We’re not breaking new ground here, we don’t need to wheel Maury out to get this out and into the open. But did ye know that Aria Jaxon isnae just a biological freak of a chica, she’s also a CHEMICAL freak. Yes, that’s correctomundo. Youns didnae hear it from me but Aria Jaxon is the head of international PED and weightloss amphetamine ring that is the scourge of women’s wrestlin’. Now I don’t care none that she got herself a dirty doctor. They’re all doing it, you can see the meth in they eyes. The thing that really pisses me off is that she won’t share with old Ironico. Listen, darling. I told ya. I canny take another pay-day loan so just bum me some adderall or something. Fuckin’ cunt.

NUMERO FIVERO - Nathan “Twatlord” Fiora
Personal beef? Nae. But being real… He’s a twat, he’s always been a twat, naebody has ever liked him an now he has some arsewipes fondling his balls. If youns don’t hate Fiora you should probably just do the world a favor and off yourself. Mabble turn yerself to kibble or soylent green, you’ds be more useful than y’are in life.

Numero SIXITO - Mongoose McQueen.
You and your brother. Or is the politically correct term sister? Fuck it, I don’t know. Keep him, I mean her… ugh… Shim? Either of you come near me and you’re dead.

AND LAST BUT NOT LEAST!
NOBI “The White Knight, my arse”
This one really makes me sick. Which is why I am glad this is the man I’m, meeting in the ring this week. Everybody loves this chico. They always have. He can do nae fuckin’ wrong as far as anyone is concerned he’s just as pure as triple distilled voddy and more innocent than a wee bairn in his mama’s arms. The White Knight? DOn’t make me fuckin’ laugh me tits off mate. He doesnae save anybody. He was never there for el ironico or anyone else in the locker room when they needed help. He’s a big fake. It\s all for the cameras. I thought people would have noticed when he turned Hollywood but I guess nae. It makes me fucking sick that he gets cheered to high heavens just for pretty much existing and that is why I am going to be very very pleased when he iis the first to be crossed off my list this week. Nobi, you’re nothing special. You’re just the start of El Ironico plowing his way through the shitlist to greatness. You’re going down.
BECAUSE i DON’T JUST CHAT BOLLOCKS!

I AM THE BOLLOCKS!!!

Re: OWA Promos October 25th 2020, 7:53 pm by **TTtheT**

I’ve never denied what I’ve done in order to win. I’ve never called myself an honourable person. I’ve never stated that I’ve won anything cleanly that I didn’t. I’ve only done what I needed to do in order to win. I took any means necessary to ensure that I walked out with a win. This reign is no different. I’m a lot of terrible things, but I don’t lie. I don’t make snivelling excuses to save my credibility. I don’t try to smooth over the truth after a clean loss. When someone gets the better of me, I admit it. I’d like to think that I know where I stand in this world. People are better than me, so I have to take other means in order to win. I’ve never called myself the best wrestler in the fucking world, but look, I’m the TV champion, mom! When you have an advantage, I guess natural wrestling ability doesn’t matter too much. But even when I take those...unconventional means, I admit that those means exist. I take responsibility for my actions. I don’t try and sweep them under the rug like some smooth movie villain. But that doesn’t change the result. I win, and I stay winning. Trust me, that won’t change. And it’s not just me who does that. Everyone in this company isn’t a pure and sweet little wrestling flower. Everyone cheats. It’s grown to be a necessity in this business, even if it’s only used to counter someone else’s dirty plays. But the difference between me and them is that they try and deny it. They try and pass every single one of their wins off as a clean one. They can’t stand the fact that they needed to cheat, so they just forget it ever existed. It’s how things work, nowadays. In my time here, I haven’t seen a single person take the long and hard way through when there’s a better way to reach their goals. Even during a match filled with respect, you’re not seeing nice little grapples and holds, are you? Every time, the desire to win outlasts the spirit of fair play. As it should. I don’t know why people expect the purest of the pure when there are people like Havoc and Aboholos running around. They blame me for doing whatever I need to do, but cheer when someone gets stabbed. This is what a strong champion looks like.

I’ve never been a struggling champion because there’s been nobody around to make me struggle. Every challenge I’ve faced so far has been conquered. Sure, with the help of The Awakening, but let’s go back to what I said before. I never admitted that I did everything on my own, but it doesn’t really matter how I got it done. The only thing that matters is the result, and I think it’s safe to say that I’ve gotten plenty of those. But Darkane thinks I’m struggling to hold my head above water. Because The Awakening has been there to support me? Because I don’t win cleanly on my own? Darkane, there are so many negative things you could say to describe me, but struggling isn’t one of them. In my short time as champion, OWA has done everything they can to take my belt away from me, but I’ve come out on top. I’ve taken every challenger and crushed them under a wave of their own stupidity. The mere fact that you think Nobi even held a candle to me exposes you for being just like them. Unknowing of what I really am. The fact that you’re nitpicking about how each and every match ended means that you’re grasping at straws. You’re desperately trying to bait me into a one on one matchup where you can hit me in the head with a fucking shovel. You’re trying to tap into my overconfident side. You’re trying to make me want to prove that I can beat you in a deathmatch on my own. Who the fuck do you think I am? Some idiot running around calling himself the best wrestler on earth? You’re not confident that you can handle The Awakening on your own because you can’t. Smart man. Challenging me like you actually think that I’ll buy whatever shit you’re trying to sell me into thinking that I’m Nobi. Because I’m already playing your game. We’re in a deathmatch, aren’t we? But I refuse to just lie down and accept my fate. Whether you want to or not, you’re going to face the wrath of The Awakening because literally, every other factor is on your side. OWA wants you as the new TV champ, but I refuse to let it happen. The Awakening won’t let it happen. You can have your match. You can take your shovel. You can try anything you want, but you won’t take this title from me.

But not only do you try and pull me into a death sentence, but you also try and diminish the accomplishments of The Awakening. You’re right, we couldn’t do much on our own. That’s the problem with us. But together, we’re not just some ragtag group of losers. I would’ve thought that you would’ve seen the results for yourself by now. You’re saying that I’m being used, but if being used makes me the TV champion, I don’t mind it. Is holding two belts as a faction good enough for you? What incompetence have you seen as a group? As a faction, we’re damn near perfect. We’ve done everything perfectly. It doesn’t matter who’s in our way. Stark, Derelict, Nobi, it doesn’t matter. But you think you’ll be any different, Darkane? Do you think you’ll rise up and succeed where so many before you didn’t? I’m sure you do. Because you still see us as a sad little group of individuals who couldn’t make the cut on our own. You see us as people using each other instead of a strong force, moving forwards together. But I guess you’ll find out. You'll see exactly how wrong you are. But I don't blame you too much for thinking that. That's what everyone thinks when they first see us. They only see us for our pasts because that's all they've had to reference. But they understand once their ass is on the floor. I guess you'll learn that same lesson.

But let's take it back. Let's go back to last... August? Our first encounter with each other, which also happened to be the night that The Awakening was born. I wasn't the smartest. I couldn't take a loss with grace, and maybe rightfully so. It felt like there was always an asterisk after every loss. A run in. An interference. And it felt like nobody cared because...well... nobody cared. All they saw was the loss, and not how the match actually went down. Eon and I had you on the rocks, Darkane. You needed John Doe to run in and save you in order for the two of you to get the win. I was beyond pissed. So close to a victory against two opponents nobody thought we had a chance against. And it was all speared away by a third man. The old Noah Quinn would laugh at what I've become, and I'm right here, laughing at the person I used to be. Months later, I'm finding myself doing the same thing that screwed over Chaos Elite time and time again. Here I am, winning matches because of outside help. Looking back, I don't blame Doe for running in, because I know I would do the same for anyone in The Awakening. He was just helping out his factionmate. And he didn't get caught. I'm not mad at it, because now I know how it feels to be on the other side of bullshit like that. I know how it feels to have all the unfairness be in my favor. When people run in on my matches, they actually help ME. But interference is a double-edged sword. I know you've got Senn waiting in the back for you, all ready to run in if any Awakening shit goes down. Bring him out. Bring John Doe. Bring that mysterious new member. Because I'll tell you now, some Awakening shit is probably going to go down. Might as well make it a full on deathmatch gang war, right? You bring your people and I'll bring mine. Chairs, tables, shovels, bodies, whatever. It's only the TV Title, right?

I'm not that stupid idiot you think I am. Let me continue by saying that I don't pick my challengers for this thing, despite past TV champions getting to pick theirs. If I could, you think I'd be giving one to Shaker and Cameron on a random Atlantis midcard? You think I would give Nobi his millionth title shot? You think I would choose to defend in a deathmatch against Darkane? On a weekly? I'm not that dumb. Trust me when I say that I'm aware that I'm stepping into your domain. Putting everything on the line in a career shortener. I have everything to lose, and you have everything to gain. If I had the opportunity to choose a challenger, a deathmatch would be one of the last options on the list, because you're right, those aren't really my thing. I don't know what the fuck OWA was thinking...oh yeah, I do. They want this title off me so badly, they'd toss me to the pits of hell to find a new champ. But it doesn't matter what they do to me. I know you're rubbing your hands and thanking OWA for the handout. I'm sure you're calling your favorite belt engraver. They might as well serve you the belt on a golden platter, right? This is just another deathmatch on a long list of deathmatches. You have every reason in the world to be confident. But even as I step into your domain, I still feel that I can pull it off. Well, The Awakening. I don't call it overconfidence even though the popular opinion is that I'm doomed. Because I've come too far to lose it like this. Falling like a battered and bruised lump as the upper brass laughs. The Awakening won't allow it, and I won't allow it. No matter the odds, no matter what I have to do, I'll be walking out of Olympus still the TV champion and with another defense under my belt.

But understandably, you don't believe that one bit. Clearly, you think that you can just barrel through me and come out the other side with my belt. You underestimate me so much, thinking that I'm a fluke champion. Thinking that I should've lost to fucking Nobi. That my reign has been nothing but a string of lucky events. Come on. I understand that I haven't been the righteous champion OWA has come to expect. I'm not the straight backed boy scout type of guy who's happy to put this belt on the line wherever and whenever. But if you think that I'm some useless lump with a belt, I don't know what you're on. Despite all the factors leading to this reign, I'm your TV champ for a reason. I'm not some desperate fool trying to hold onto the only achievement he's managed to grab. It's because I'm smart. I'm resourceful. I know what to do in every situation, and having The Awakening doesn't hurt too. You underestimate me just like Finn did. Like Stark did to The Awakening. Like the entire thunderdome did to Fiora. Despite all the things I and The Awakening have done, people still write us off. You write me off as an easy win. As a lamb that wandered into the slaughterhouse with a belt. Talking like you know anything about me. I'm going to show you every single thing you got wrong. I'm going to take every single thing you throw at me and beat you in your own house. At the end of the day, I hope you learn. I hope people finally see what they're saying when they call me a fluke.

Try anything, Darkane, but when I promise something I fucking mean it.

Re: OWA Promos October 25th 2020, 7:47 pm by Keelan Callihan

KEELAN CALLIHAN

I Wish Natalie Cage Would Lick My Gooch.

I really wish I could understand your mentality, Nate. Just when I thought maybe we were both on the same page, just when I thought maybe I had come across another individual who shared the same gripes I had with the world, you come along and call me… a snake? I’m not out here attempting to live rent free inside of your head, Nate. In fact, the opposite. I want us to stay on the same wavelength. You’re a lone wolf and I respect that. I’m not asking for us to team up. We both have gigantic egos and we wouldn’t gel well. We both have our own ideals, our own goals, our own aspirations.

I call out your imperfections because I think you can learn from them. I have just as many failures in my career than you do, so why are we playing this game? The two of us stood in that ring a couple of weeks back like children and played schoolyard bully. It’s something I called Darkane out for, and then I went ahead and did it. This business has just gotten to me in a way that I wish I could get out of, and I will. As soon as my contract is up, I’m out of here. Whether you like it or not, Nate, I will be taking the Omega Heavyweight Championship with me. Nate, I know you want to be on top of this show. We don’t have to team but we can help each other.

We had one hell of a match a few weeks ago and I defeated you in the middle of the ring. It was the first time you were pinned in two years. This week, we have another match. I guarantee you mate - the same fate awaits you. When you come to terms with the fact that you need me after I beat you a second match in a row, come to me and let’s chat. We can work something out, you and I. All that built up anger you have inside you right now is something I completely understand, and you taking it out on me is expected. Get it all out of your system on Tuesday. Beat my ass as much as you need to, but when you find yourself with your back on the canvas once again, come to me.

Let’s talk.

THE KILLER IS COMING.

Re: OWA Promos October 25th 2020, 7:08 pm by **Bobby Wheeler**

Nate Cage

I Wish Julianna DeMarco Would Spit in My Mouth

I can tolerate a lot of things in this world, but a snake is not one of them. I see the irony, so hold your tongue. I have stabbed every man in the back who dared to get close to me. But I was never dishonest about my intentions. Absolute power by any means. You all know that is my mission statement. Kenny Drake is a smart man, but he was not smart enough. I am still waiting for that fateful day when he decides to finish the job with me. Until then, I will sit, and I will ponder the intricacies of this foul, rotten, festering rock we find ourselves on. I will think about you, Keelan Callihan. Oh, how you have picked out some space in my head and decided to take up occupancy. There was a time I had a hate for you, hate that transformed into begrudging respect, now? Now, it is just a hole.

I do not know why you do the things you do. Your actions as of late have been disappointing. I have seen a spark in you, a fire lit underneath a man many had written off. You have walked through the flames of this industry and come out burned but undeterred. No man without mettle and might could step into that ring with me and do what you did. The first man in TWO YEARS to pin me. You have accomplished a feat few can make claim to. Kenny Drake, Aria Jaxon, Carlos Rosso, Finnegan Wakefield, Gareth Cason, my dear sister Natalie…none of them have done what you have. Those three seconds as I lay on that mat lasted an eternity. I looked up at the lights and thought to myself, “Finally, a man who can actually take a share of my burden.”

The longer you go without being pinned, the heavier it weighs on you. I felt like my life had become a futile search for an equal, someone who could batter me and keep me down. Bull Connors was the last man to do it, Scott Oasis before him. Men who have long since stepped into the background and stayed away from the ring. Why? Because they could not handle the pressure of being unstoppable. But you? I thought you might be different. I thought you were the one to take a place alongside me at the head of the table. Instead, what do you do with your victory? You take the microphone and tell the whole world when your contract ends and that you are walking away from OWA afterwards. I was hurt. I laid down there on the ground and could not believe what I was hearing. My slayer. My equal. The only man to make me feel alive in two years was giving up. I have never been more disgusted in my entire fucking life. Here you stand, the world at your fingertips, the ruler of all that you survey, and you are walking away? Just like Bull Connors, just like Scott Oasis. The pressure is just too much. And here I thought you were different.

That is why I asked to face again. This is not about avenging a loss or evening things up. It runs far deeper than that. This is a matter of principle, of honour. There is a wrong that must be righted. I cannot idly stand by as a pretender to the throne brags about how he is quitting. This is not how my legacy or my temperament will be defined. You are not above me, Keelan, do not fall into that trap. You are my equal in skill but not attitude. I will be here long after you have walked off into the sunset, beating down foe after foe and imposing my will on this company. Where will you be? Playing golf with your buddies and working on your handicap? Raising a family with your wife in your lovely, big house? Putting your feet up in front of a fire and enjoying the Sunday paper? The thought of it makes me sick.

Come Tuesday, I will beat you in our rematch. This is my promise to you. I must teach you a lesson in civility. I must teach you that the way you are behaving is unacceptable. There is no hate in my heart when I teach you this lesson. There is only apathy. Apathy for the broken-down shell that you plan on becoming. Perhaps, after I have beat some sense into you, you will look up at me and see a great teacher. You will see the true solution to your problems. But until that day comes, I will just keep on hurting you.

Be seeing you.

Re: OWA Promos October 25th 2020, 7:01 pm by **Darkane**

Defending the Throne of Evil

What a strange little land you live in.

Built on a multitude of lies, deception, and fabricated hyperbole that some believe to be the ultimate truth but most, that is, those with common sense blow right past this fantasy that you’ve created in your head. You’ll believe it because the ones that you hold close to the vest spoon-feed your appetite with false promises and they provide a safety net riddled with holes but you’re too far gone to realize it, your head is so high in the clouds that when you free fall from the heavens, when the ladder is pulled out from under you Noah, you'll have nobody to blame but yourself, however, I wouldn’t push it past you to blame the ones that whispered sweet nothings in your ear in recent months because Noah Quinn isn’t a man of accountability.

He’s hardly a man at all.

Everything about Noah Quinn is based on circumstance and whether the dice happened to roll in his favor. I see right through you as if you were a ghost adrift without any sense of purpose whatsoever, and by the end of the night that’s exactly what you’ll be; an apparition that haunts the halls of OWA still wondering how his precious relic was ripped away from him in an instant after fellating his own ego with sentiments he could not back up. But you don’t need to wonder anymore Noah, what you need to do is hope. I want you to hope that your decimation will not be for nothing. I want you to hope that The Awakening will forgive your ineptitude and carry on in your honor while I carry the TV title and your broken skull in my fucking hands.

Sometimes we have to go to dark places in order to feel alive.

This deathmatch is my dark place.

It’s where I thrive.

It’s a place where many men and women for that matter with similar mindsets as you were crushed under my wrath.

What makes you so different from the other smug souls who thought themselves immortal only to realize they bleed the same as the rest of us? Is it due to the “confidence” you exude or is it due to the support system that serves as a backbone that otherwise would be made of mush if it weren’t for Fiora and company.

The Television Title carries you around like a fucking infant over its shoulder, not the other way around. The prestige of that title has been pissed down the proverbial drain with the way you’ve conducted yourself and the way The Awakening has cradled you in their arms. But it is you who ultimately chooses to ignore the facts spit at you akin to a child with a soiled diaper, plugging his ears, avoiding the concept of truth just so he can stay in the confines of his high chair and skew the narrative. The mere notion that you have defended your namesake and your title ‘dominantly and easily’ is so far fetched that only someone completely out of sight and out of mind; someone with uncertainty radiating in his heart veiled by a false bravado would dare utter and I smell your uncertainty like a shark smells blood in the water, the aroma is distinctive, pungent and appetizing at the same time. We’re on your fucking turf you say, and we is plural, which tells me that if you were confident in your abilities, particularly in such a brutal environment you’d change that tone to singular, but I know you won’t fight your battles alone and since that’s the case only misery awaits The Awakening. I have enough burial plots that stretch for miles under the city of OWA and in the GraveWorm’s lair. I will chew through every single part of The Awakening until there’s nothing left but the folklore over what once was. Come one, come all, there’s enough bloodshed to spread and paint Olympus fucking red. Realize that the Phantom Troupe is made up of remorseless fiends with no self-conscience and an insatiable lust to destroy foundations that were thought to be impenetrable.

Your fortress is far from impenetrable.

Even down a man (Stark), it won’t matter, Noah Quinn and the rest of his motley crew will go up in flames on my command; it’s just a matter of time. This isn’t my first rodeo where I’ve been outmanned, outflanked, and backed into a seemingly inescapable dead end. Except it’s not a dead-end; because I’m the aggressor. I’m the one out for booze and blood. I’m the one on the relentless hunt for the TV title while you’re scampering into the arms of The Awakening but I’m going to dismantle every escape route possible. Everywhere you turn, everywhere you move, everywhere you run I’ll be there in the dark, with a shit-eating grin on my face because I know that I have you running in circles in the palm of my hand. I’m constantly on your mind, it’s evident in your words, every single waking thought has Darkane written all over it. It must be such a heavy burden to know that I’m hovering over your shoulder watching you lie to your reflection in the mirror.

I love it when you try to convince yourself that the grass is greener on the other side and that you can march into a deathmatch completely unprepared for what’s to come and dethrone a master at his craft. There’s so much conviction in your voice that I almost believed you, yet it’s so glaringly transparent at the same time. In one breath you had little issue pumping yourself up with a deathmatch sales pitch when you again, lied to yourself, that you’d take every single thing I throw at you and eat it, that you’d hit me two times harder than I’ll hit you. Say that again, this time with a shovel in your mouth. You said that you’ll leave Olympus still the fucking TV champion when the dust settles and in the very next breath you back peddled, you admitted that this is my territory, that I’m a deathmatch specialist, that the ball will be in my court for most of the match, that OWA might as well have handed me the title wrapped in a bow, that most of the outsiders believe I have a pretty good chance to fuck you up, and that there’s no reason at all for me to lose.

It’s easy to understand why you’re so passive-aggressive.

It’s a school of thought that belongs to somebody who doesn’t know how strong the tide he’s up against is.

Or when it will suck him out to sea.

This is why this kill will be unmerciful, especially when delusions of grandeur cloud your judgment. For some reason you seem so consumed over whether OWA is out to get you. The way you dread defending the TV championship tells me a lot about you Noah. It tells me that the workload is taking its toll on poor Noah Quinn even in your reign’s infancy. It tells me that it’s an inconvenience to ward off would-be challengers week after week. It tells me that you’re paranoid about circumstances out of your control when you float the idea that OWA isn’t happy with your reign, but then you have the gall to sugarcoat the significance of your reign by boasting about a meager TWO FUCKING DEFENSES one of which was against worthless chicken feed on a nothing Atlantis show. Such a paltry number, but at least that’s more than nine other champions right? Which goes to show the relevance of the TV title. It’s been stuck in a vacuum for a long time. The way you grasp at straws by bringing up the lore and the history of the title of which holds little value is gratuitous turd polishing. It’s something a little extra to add credibility and stature to a title that’s on its fucking deathbed. The championship hasn’t been guarded well since its inaugural reign under Gareth Cason and everybody saw what I did to him.

You don’t fight for your championship Noah.

You fight for Fiora, to remain in his good graces and when you’re under the tutelage of someone like him, who lives in a parallel universe, then it’s no wonder why people believe your days are numbered. It’s about time you put your foot down. It’s time to stop deepthroating a false prophet who would otherwise leave you in a ditch if you didn’t possess the TV title. When it comes down to it, this isn’t just The Awakening versus The Phantom Troupe.

It’s Darkane versus Noah Quinn, but to stretch that even further.

It’s Noah Quinn versus Noah Quinn. One version with his hand held, the other version that needs a helping hand.

Either way, you’re fucked.

VaeVictisBD and Noah Reigner have spoken. It’s such good shit!

Re: OWA Promos October 25th 2020, 12:46 am by **Nobi**

I'd like to think that every title opportunities I get every single time despite keep failing to win most of them is OWA's way to say "thank you for all the services for these past years" despite I'm not always in OWA.

I wasn't here in OWA's first day and yet my debut was challenging Nas for the Omega Heavyweight Championship at Boiling Point 2018. My 2019 OWA's run was just what I'd like to call a Part-Timer run and yet, I was invited to compete in the 2019 Clash of Titans match, I had a chance to challenge Tarah Nova for another Omega Heavyweight Championship belt, and I was chosen as a participant in The Apollo and Artemis Tag Team Classic Tournament.

So many people that deserve to be in my position and yet I was always the chosen one. Is that the OWA Boards think of me? It seems no matter how many times I fail, they always want me to be in the title picture. No matter what belt it is.

And now, I'm invited for the OWA Hybrid Championship Tournament? After I failed to win the TV Championship Belt?

Just why?

Why not Teddy Mac? Why not Eon Blue? Why not Finnegan Wakefield? Why not Noah Reigner? Why not Graham Baker? I can name countless other names that deserve a spot in this tournament but why am I always getting a championship opportunity?

This is too overdone but if this is what OWA wants then I have to do more than my best to be the first ever Hybrid Champion. If this is what OWA wants, then I'm going to establish the Hybrid Championship as one of the best belts that OWA has to offer.

A first champion to a new belt is very important to introduce the importance, the relevancy, and the prestige and I really want to do all I can to make the Hybrid Championship looks like a World Championship in it's own right.

I see names such as Chase Vedder, Mark Michaels, and my own opponent, El Ironico in this tournament and all of them are great talents and competitors. They have their own records and I honestly believe that three of them are going to show everything they can to be the first ever Hybrid Champion.

But as I said, I want to win this Championship too because I want to answer the trust and the believe everyone has on me to be an OWA Champion once again. It makes me sad that it seems people are always on my back but I haven't been able to show them that they are correct to support me.

But I know I have to beat El Ironico for one reason and another.

First of all, I'm sorry this is late but welcome to OWA and welcome back to the pro wrestling business in general. It's been so long to see you in the ring again and I have to say, I'm surprised that you stabbed Finnegan Wakefield in the back. It's so wrong in so many ways.

You know what? We Are The Bollock story is similar to what happened between The Pizza Boy and I at Wrestleworld. Is this a trend that a masked wrestler would stab their friends in the back?

Just like PB, you returned to the wrestling scene after missing for so long and while you both are backstabber pricks, you're doing worse than PB. Yes, he showed up and pushed me off from the ladder when I wasn't around, but you were pretending to miss Finn only to attack him when he was off his guard. Yes both you and PB attacked me and Finn when we weren't paying attention respectively, but at least PB never pretended to be my friend when he first showed up after so long not competing in the ring.

And just like what I did to PB, I'm planning to destroy you, Ironico. While it is Finnegan's duty to do so, at least I can get my hands to punish a traitor like you. Just like how I kicked PB out from Wrestleworld and wrestling business in general, I'm going to help Finnegan to do so by giving you a beating of a lifetime in this match.

Everything about you is disgusting, Ironico. Your mask, your act, and your behavior. Everything about you screams a traitor. I don't like traitors because I know how it feels like when a former friend stabbed you in the back and that's why I can't show you sympathy in our match. If I have a chance to rip your mask off to show off your disgusting face to the world, I certainly will. I managed to expose PB's true colour and I'm going to do it again to you.

I only faced off against Finnegan once in a Tag Team match 2 years ago when Finnegan was your partner. Yes, We Are The Bollock beat me and Moongoose McQueen 2 years ago and why is that? It's because of the team-work you guys had. You guys had the chemistry to be one of the best tag teams in the business and the chemistry is build-off because of friendship.

But it's so sad to find out that everything you did for Finnegan is a lie. Everything you did for Finnegan is fake. How long have you been planning for this actually, Ironico? Is the reason why you turned on Finnegan not much sooner is to give him a pain for the oh-so called friendship you gave to him for more than 2 years? I don't like it and that's why I have to beat you up.

And it is for a chance to be crowned as the first ever Hybrid Championship. To prove it that I can win another championship here in OWA.

I'm doing great in Wrestleworld because I'm one of the number one contenders for their Tag Team Championship and I did close my SSW story as the final SSW Puroresu World Heavyweight Championship and it's about time I win another OWA belt.

I'm going to beat you and I'm going to expose your ugly face to the entire world.

Eon Blue has spoken. It’s such good shit!

Re: OWA Promos October 24th 2020, 11:59 pm by **Diantha Rosso**

Diantha is sitting in her brother’s private gym. Carlos isn’t there with her, but another member of the Rosso “Wrestling Tree” is…...WrestleWorld’s Emmanuelle. She is dressed in all black workout attire while Diantha wears her Red and Gold, what she calls her “battle standard” colors.

Emmy: So, I heard you have a title defense coming up?

Diantha: Yes. I appreciate you coming to spar with me for a little while. I know your obligations to LAW and WrestleWorld make you quite busy.

Emmy: Pssh. No biggie. I heard from the Old bastard that you needed someone to spar with and someone that reflected a certain style so I came. Just knock the crazy bitch on her ass, yeah?

Diantha: Sure. Do you mind if I ask you something? Do you think that I hold people back?

Emmy: Huh?

Diantha: A lot of people are saying now that I’m in the way now, that I’m taking opportunities from others.

Emmy: It’s about that April nonsense, isn’t it?

Diantha: Yeah…

Emmy: I don’t have a lot of close friends, but it’s been my experience that the people who really mean you the best tell you the truth to your face. April had plenty of time to let you know she wanted a title match, that she felt downplayed and overlooked. If I were you, I would just focus on the task at hand. I saw this Niki chick wrestle...she’s not bad. But you already know that don’t you?

Diantha: I do. So...when are you coming to OWA?

Emmanuelle gives her trademark smile before taking a sip from her water bottle.

Emmy: Not any time soon. I still have a lot of things to get done elsewhere. Plus I’m down there in OWT land remember? I’ve got a sweet little contract but yeah, have to wait for the call up…..just know that I won’t be as silent as your supposed “buddy” was about wanting my title match when I get there.

I know what awaits me when we fight, Niki. I never looked at you as a walkover or a stepping stone or someone to be taken lightly. You’re one of the strongest women I’ve ever come across and you are indeed fighting for something that is worthy of being commended by me. You fight for your family. You fight for your pack. You fight for your honor.

I don’t care about any of that.

You say that I’m at my best when I am a victim and in a strange way, you are not inaccurate. That should tell you something about me but either your blatantly ignoring it or just refusing to listen to the age-old adage that the most dangerous quarry is a wounded one. I have taken everyone’s nastiest shots, everyone’s greatest hits….and I still stand here holding something that you desperately want. For all your perfection, for all your talent, I find it a bit interesting that you’ve been so oddly reluctant to step into an OWA ring until recently. Maybe you noticed a bit of a power vacuum when Matsuda went to play war with her best friend, or was it Goto retiring? The Dollhouse disbanding? Whatever it was, I don’t care.

You’ve spent enough time with me to know that my struggle is what MAKES me what I am. You can have the results but without the struggle, the blood, the pain and suffering that you endure to make them so, WHAT DO YOU HAVE!?

NOTHING!

THIS IS WHAT YOU DONT UNDERSTAND ABOUT ME, ITS WHAT YOU NEVER WILL UNDERSTAND ABOUT ME! Just because you have conquered places, just because you’ve achieved success doesn’t mean the next success is guaranteed. Empires fall, people are humbled and in my opinion it’s high time that you meet your comeuppance. Not for anything that you’ve done against me….but for your arrogance to believe that you are ready to topple a champion that has seen and done nearly everything there is to do in this sport.

You said that I fight only for myself, but I do the exact contrary of that. I fight for the people that believe in me. I fight out of respect for what you and the Wolves taught me! I fight for the family name that I carry that’s produced wrestlers since the 1930s. I fight for the company that gave me an opportunity. I fight for all those who are in MY VERY PLACE right now in that locker room, just trying to seize their opportunity just as I have.

And for all of them….AND MYSELF...I will beat you.

DIANTHA…..Ichiban.

Aria Jaxon, Jeff X, Devi Krysis and The Banshee have spoken. It’s such good shit!

Re: OWA Promos October 24th 2020, 11:59 pm by **Matsuda**

Kingdom Promo #1

“Eldritch Clouds”

Somewhere.

Stephanie “Cloud” Matsuda finds herself walking through a long hallway inside an unfamiliar building. She doesn’t know how she got here, nor where she might be. Her feet slowly stepped along the oakwood floor as her eyes scanned the hallway. At the end of the hall was an open door to what looked like an apartment. As she entered, a voice emerged from the silence, though she couldn’t pinpoint its original location.

“From your secret friend…”

Stephanie looked around and found herself inside an old-school luxury condo, where the windows showed a view that overlooked downtown, Brooklyn. In the not so far off distance, she could see Barclays Center. There was something different about the streets below, but she was too high to get a glimpse at any activity.

“...who…”

The War Queen’s eyes examined an old bookshelf, stacked to the brim with Matsuda’s personal favorites, as well as psychology textbooks from her years at Brooklyn College. There were also some titles concerning Japanese history, African-American Civil Rights, and pro wrestling history. Matsuda raised an eyebrow as she spotted a black sofa. Before it was a chair that looked like someone was sitting in it. As Stephanie walked in front of it, her eyes went wide.

“...haven’t a clue?”

What Matsuda saw was herself...but older. A peacefully sleeping Stephanie Matsuda in her elder years. Beside her is a small green envelop marked “To My Blue Maiden”. With curiosity weighing on her, Stephanie picked it up and examined its contents. Inside was a greeting card, which reflected the words spoken by the unknown voice. As she read it to herself, the voice continued.

“Let’s play a game, just me and you.”

To the left of those words was a riddle: “When do clouds go dark?”

“Does this mean anything to you?”

Stephanie looked at the old woman who was now looking at her. Before Matsuda could speak, she felt herself being pulled out of the room. Her arms reached out to touch something, anything, but her hands touched nothing but air.

“NO!”

----

All Stephanie could hear was the sound of her breath she she sat upright, gasping for air. Her sweat-drenched face checked her surroundings, only to find herself lying in bed in the comfort of her own bedroom back in Bushwick. Beside her was her wife Monica who was wide awake, and worried about the frantic state Matsuda was in.

Monica Vaughan: Another bad dream?

Stephanie was silent for a moment. She didn’t know how to answer her wife, much less explain what was happening to her. This wasn’t the first weird dream she’s had in the past few months, and it all started when she encountered ‘him’.

Stephanie Matsuda: I-I don’t know Mon. It was a little weird. It was like I was seeing my own future, or at least a possible one. Then I heard a voice. It was familiar, but I can’t remember where.

Monica slipped out of bed and went to the kitchen to pour her wife a glass of water. Stephanie followed her and took the glass. After taking a long sip, Stephnie sighed and sat down.

Stephanie Matsuda: Ever since this Abholos guy appeared, shit has been getting a little weird. He has some kind of agenda. I just need to figure it out.

Monica Vaughan: Well whatever it is babe, I’m sure you and Aria can figure something out. Just stay alert, okay?

Stephanie nodded as her wife kissed her on the forehead.

Monica Vaughan: I’m going back to sleep. I love you, babe.

Stephanie smiled as she watched Monica return to their bedroom.

Stephanie Matsuda: I love you too, sweets.

The War Queen pondered what she could do next and settled for addressing her opponents.

-----

The camera opens to Stephanie Matsuda sitting at the computer in the dead hours of the night. She had her glasses on and was dressed in her sleepwear.

“I don’t know why you’re so obsessed with me. According to what you said during our last meeting, I’ve done something to wrong you. You claim that I took an opportunity from the vessel known as Edward Softly, the same man you call yourself when you’re not wearing a mask. I don’t know if that’s something I can agree with, but I know and understand this - These mind games are just meant to get into my head. I’m sure you’re devising some kind of sure-fire plan to get ‘Ria and I to turn on each other. Don’t forget that we already fought each other once and while where that fight took us is a little unbelievable, I can say for certain that I walked away from that encounter with my life and sanity intact. I’m not an expert on the occult, nor am I one in CGI, but regardless of how you’re able to do what you do, the result will be the same: Queens over everything. Whether it is as friends or enemies, we know each other inside and out. That kind of connection isn’t built overnight. You’re quite powerful, and Maverick has recently defeated The Devione Family single-handedly, but in my mind, he only finished what my boy Kevin Maverick started in the first season of OWA. So I’m sure he’s appreciative of you getting his sloppy seconds.”

Stephanie sighed as she shook her head.

“Sometimes it’s hard to discern what’s real from what’s in your head. Havoc has made use of that as he convinced The Ashes that he can change their lives for the better. He has this idea for a Dark New World, something I’m familiar with over at WWH. For the past few months, I’ve been fighting a four-pronged war against Havoc, Maverick, and Abholos in OWA, WWH, Wrestleworld, and the former SSW. I’ve had the World’s Finest by my side in WW, Aria in OWA, and just me, myself, and I over in WWH and SSW respectively. You could say that I’ve been unwillingly orbiting around any remnant of The Ashes, even when their members show up in other factions such as Underworld. For me to even wage such a war, I have to be at my best. It’s funny how Havoc talks all this good shit, but yet I’m at double champion in WWH. Then you have Wrestleworld, where Maverick has tried and failed to deny me of the American Dream Championship on multiple occasions, including sending not one but TWO of his goons at the same time, and yet I still walk out of Saitama with my belt intact! Abholos tried to break Aria but yet she was declared God of SSW when she defeated Jacob Fucking Senn! And here we are, OWA Tag-team Champions while ‘Ria is holding the Outlaw Championship on her other shoulder. We’re not just queens, boys - we’re two living freaking legends. Divided we’re strong but united we’re not fucking invincible.”

Stephanie sighed as she shook her head.

“I took a look at your little video before starting my own, Edward, and now...it all makes a little more sense. I mean how you from being Puerto Rican to vanilla leaves room for interpretation, but it makes sense how Eddie King dropped off the face of the planet after several months in Mexico. I did my best to look for him, but he was nowhere to be found. Now maybe you encountered the best plastic surgeon in existence and you paid him to look like my worst nightmare. It’s no secret there’s no love lost between me and the Diemos family. I called the authorities on them, took their kids with me back to New York, and through them I created the Sky Village home which is now known as the Cloud Nine Center. I took Joseph’s sister Jocelyn and adopted her as my daughter. I did what I could to make up for that part of my life, but yet your sorry ass wants to bring it back. If anything, I’m annoyed by your antics. Sure we fought in some mythic desert that was probably happening in my sub-conscious, but whatever. At the end of the day, The Queens of Wrestling will go to defend our titles successfully and await our next victims at Civil War. Aria and I weren’t kidding when I said we were dead focused on establishing a legacy. This isn’t about making it because we’re already there. This fight is about putting our feet on the necks of Havoc’s runts and showing them that we can be bitched around like Frontline and Shin-Sekai. It may be only Ria and myself, but we’re more than suited to the task of taking on Kingdom by ourselves. Just ask your boss, Maverick. I’ve been waging a war between The Ashes and another faction by myself in WWH. Claudia threw everything at me but yet at Dreamworld I became American Dream Champion. The Queens of Wrestling are the irresistible force of pro wrestling. Now bow down and pay homage.”

Stephanie smiles as she turned off the camera.

Aria Jaxon has spoken. It’s such good shit!

National Mule Day October 24th 2020, 11:59 pm by **AzurineVebbins**

Her promotional material opens with “Da Adorkable Angel” Azurine Vebbins clomping two copper mugs along a kitchen counter. Based on training for a gauntlet’s gamut of grappling groups, decent stretches of recording time have become infrequent. That would explain why there’s a flickering flashlight on top of the Camerasphere VRD (Video Recording Device).

Azurine Vebbins: Greetin’s, OWA Odyssey observers! On Monday, October 26 a.k.a. National Mule Day I team wid Devi Krysis against two brayin’ bleeps named Jonetta Stone and Llorana. Bode are jilted jennies who heinously harp like high-horse hinnies. Den again, dat could be da vodka, lime juice, and gin-juh beer speakin’. Still, bein’ a hapless hunt, I expect Jonetta’s neck’ll freckle like Jekyll from all da flagrant pheromones emitted by her preferred perfume: “Formal de Hyde.” Again, da difference between her and Llorana versus myself and Devi is dat I have zero intentions on kickin’ my teammate’s sass-saddled ass. View you at da Bankers Life Fieldhouse ’cause even dough “Dat Azz” might bounce, Krysis and I are collectin’ da winner’s checks.

The aim of my life is the overthrow of the monarchy, a quote from Karl Liebknecht, and when I think of that quote-

I look to myself. I look to the challenge I have ahead of me, I look to everything I’ve ever wanted in life. To me, there’s been one thing I could ever ask for heading into this Kingdom episode and that’s to overthrow the oncoming monarchy that’s been holding on for far too long in this fucking company. That monarchy being the Queens of Wrestling but there’s a lot going into this match other than having a Tag Team Championship match. There’s so much more. See, this is something that I need to put in the serious focus onto, this is my third championship match within six months- six fucking months and yet where has that gotten me? Absolutely nowhere. The choke artist, that’s what they know me as. The bridesmaid but never the bride, as what Aria would put it. I’m not proud to say that after everything I’ve done and then get nowhere with it. Outlaw Championship. Spartan Championship. Tag Team Championship. Three of them, and am I afraid to say that I might not win this one? Yeah, I am, but does that make me give up? Of fucking course not, because of this… it’s just providing me more fuel to the fire, it’s just providing me more energy to fight- and fight I will. Just because of my failures, it doesn’t mean I won’t let my mistakes take over how I perform.

Since the night that Kenny Drake put my body through hell, my mind was scrambled- it was all over the place and it was focusing on many different things- but something caught my attention very quickly. The announcement of The Ashes of The Wake getting their dues against The Queens of Wrestling. The OWA Tag Team Championships are on the line in that match, but who would Aria and Stephanie face is the question that loomed. I knew instantly who it would be from that moment… it would have been me. Would it have been The Vincent? No, he’s too busy. Would it have been Jacob Knight? Of course not, why would he be given such an opportunity. Could it have been Havoc by some sheer chance? No, no, he’s the OWA World Champion. There was only one person who it could have been, the only man to ever come to me and make me realise that I should be chasing who I really am deep inside… a fucking King.

Abholos made me see that. Abholos made me see King Maverick in OWA.

I know a lot of people are going to be asking about my vicious and heinous attack on Jacob Knight and The Vincent on the last episode of Kingdom- they can ask ahead because I know Knight will be asking too, and he’ll get the same answer as everyone else. I put down the ones I saw as the weakness in The Ashes. That side of me… King Maverick… made sure that those who are below me are fully aware of whom is the leader- who is truly the man that stands tall in The Ashes. There was no voice in my head telling me what to fucking do, I did that to my own accord and I did my job well enough to the point that Vincent will never EVER be seen again in OWA because I BROKE HIS FUCKING NECK! I broke that man’s neck and for what? No repercussions, no damage done to The Ashes, I think we found our weakness and it laid dormant as a champion- someone we thought was safe from being that weakness. Havoc and I honestly thought we’d see that vengeance be put onto Knight but- it just wasn’t. But right now, we move on from those mistakes. We move on to much better things like the OWA Tag Team Championships.

Oh, Aria. It’s so lovely to meet you again. It’s so lovely to be able to hear your voice once more and hearing the choice of words you have for me, it’s more of the same from you again. Choke artist, bridesmaid, never making it big here in OWA, my accomplishments don’t mean shit here. I mean, it’s more of the same as when we first faced off against one another in the Season Premiere of Kingdom. You told me I’d never make it here, you told me my accomplishments doesn’t mean shit here, it’s just deja vu, Aria. So why do you feel the need to repeat yourself like that? Are you trying to drive in a point that I’m not good here but everywhere else I am a fucking god in the ring? Are you trying to show off the fact that you’re Aria Jaxon and everything you say is gospel around here and gets treated as such? Aria, what’s the fucking point of even trying to show off because that’s all you do. You show off and somehow, some fucking way, you pick up wins from it. All you have to do is say “I am Aria Jaxon” and you’re simply handed everything to you. Do you know why I haven’t done anything here? Because I simply want to earn my way up the ranks, and I believe I am up those ranks because I never took anything I was handed. I learned from my own mistakes and I adapted from them to make me who I am today.

I either win or I learn. I’ve learned a lot, Aria, and I proudly take those losses. I eat them up and swallow them whole. It was never the fact of if I could ever be someone, I knew I will be someone and everyone can fucking attest to that fact, but I know you cannot. Not now anyway, not when one of your championships are at stake. I can see the fear in your eyes, I can see exactly what you’re afraid to see in me. Change. A different Maverick than the one you faced for the Outlaw Championship. If you faced that Maverick, you’d have easy pickings over me and use me like a fucking boxing bag. But now? There’s doubt. Let me ask you this, Aria? Are you aware of our last meeting in the ring? One would be quick to answer with that championship match and they’ve every right to think that because it was an amazing fucking match, but that wasn’t our last meeting. It was an episode of Atlantis, an eight-man tag team match. You and I were on opposite ends of the spectrum, and on that night, I was the one who stood tall over you. Over everyone, to be more precise. See, being high and mighty has it’s good points but when you don’t even bring up your own defeats like such? What does that make you? Someone who’s afraid of the truth? Someone who looks away from their losses? I’ve learned from that because it’s fucking childish, and you’re older than me, Aria. But here you are, willing to forget those matches that you lost in. Why?

Are you one to not admit defeat as a monarch? Do you not like to learn from your own mistakes?

I told you, and your team that night, one thing that you’ve failed to listen to. Winners are not afraid of losing. But losers are. Failure is part of the process of success. People who avoid failure also avoid success. You’re a winner, as shown by your two championships, and you’re afraid of your losses that you “choose” to forget them? Aria Jaxon, I do not believe that for a second. If you were any bit serious about yourself, you’d know that and you’d take full-on advantage of that quote- but you didn’t and I’m the one who has to remind you of your one loss against me. We’re evens, Aria, and you don’t even think to accept it. Selfish, that’s what you are. Absolutely selfish.

And speaking of partners, Stephanie Matsuda. It’s nice to see you around here, and I thought you were someone on Odyssey but you ran away and unofficially joined Kingdom because Aria’s here and what that bitch is what that bitch will get. You’ve had a good year, Stephanie, haven’t you? Wrestleworld’s American Dream Champion, Pro Wrestling Nova’s top champion, OWA Tag Team Champion… the list goes on and on and on for you. I think it’s cute that you’re calling yourself a belt collector because you’re a bit of a whore for wrestling and take things a bit too far with it. I know I can be like that but I’ve never put myself through the shit you do. It seems like a blessing that you finally decided to move onto Kingdom and team with Aria Jaxon because to be completely honest with you, I didn’t even know you were here in OWA until then. I didn’t even know you were something here until you actually teamed with Aria- A member of Odyssey who jumped ship instead of fighting her own brand, what sort of bullshit is that, Stephanie? Had enough of the women over there and decided you wanted to beat up men for a change? I’m sure if you stayed over there, you might have had the chance to be OWA Women’s World Champion but you didn’t want to fall down the same well as Azumi Goto and end up retired because of poor life decisions. Oooh, did I strike a nerve in you, Stephanie? That’s your closest friend, you both own Joshi Extreme Takeover together, are you really going to let me do that to you?

Of course, you are, because Stephanie Matsuda isn’t as good as she says she is.

You’ve been running around here with three, four or five belts and what point have you been trying to make other than you’re a “decorated champion” with all of these prizes that I couldn’t give a shit about because two of those belts come from a racist and transphobic company, and you’re still there because you’re proving you can stand your ground as a top champion but I’m pretty sure they don’t even have an established Women’s division over there. So what do you have to prove to me that makes you something to be feared of? I’m feared of Aria because she’s good and only two past experiences aren’t enough to fully adapt when she’s gone through so many things since those past six months. Stephanie, they ask me if this is me breaking the glass ceiling in OWA but in reality, they have to ask you that question because until you face me, what have you yet to prove here other than being Aria’s friend? Oh, you have the Tag Team Championships? Cute, Aria carried you to those. Aria handed you that title because she decided to use you as a meat shield.

A shame, isn’t it? Being used by someone you thought was a real friend of yours. I’ll put it simply for you, ladies. What’s to come changes everything for good, because I have finally realised who I truly am. Because I finally realised who I should have been this whole fucking time, and Stephanie, you’re very familiar with it because I am King Maverick. I am The KING of this company, King of Tag Teams, King of everything. Never a loss as a Tag Team Champion. Never been defeated for championships as a Tag Team Champion and I look to keep that legacy going for as long as possible as the new OWA Tag Team Champion. Aria and Stephanie, the Queens of Wrestling…

The aim of my life is the overthrow of monarchy and I can finally say I’ve done just that.

Aria Jaxon and Eon Blue have spoken. It’s such good shit!

Re: OWA Promos October 24th 2020, 11:35 pm by **NikiKhanKTA**

INT. DRAKE RESIDENCE, KITCHEN - MORNING

The sun rises, setting the sky on fire with a bright red hue. The leaves on the trees had already fallen off, leaving nothing but bare, crooked branches like talons looming by the windows. NIKI KHAN stares out into the backyard and a thousand yards past. The overhead light growls with a sinister buzz…

It grows louder…

Louder…

LOUDER...

JOSIE GREY (o/s)

Ms. Khan?

The buzz suddenly stops. NIKI snaps to attention and turns to JOSIE, who sits at the kitchen table, a tablet in front of her. The toddler Sid sits at the table next to her, eating from a bowl of cereal. NIKI smiles at him and waves, prompting the young boy to giggle. NIKI sits at the table and grabs a nearby mug.

JOSIE GREY

...are you alright?

NIKI KHAN

Mmmmhm why wouldn’t I be?

JOSIE GREY

You were just...staring out the window…

NIKI KHAN

So? I do that all the time.

JOSIE GREY

Yeah, but…

NIKI KHAN

Buuuuuut?

JOSIE GREY

...it just seemed very distant...lost in thought…

NIKI KHAN

Distant thot shit is your forté.

JOSIE GREY

Ah, oui… Elle est là…

SID

Diss’nt thop ship!

NIKI smiles at him and leans back in her chair, raising the mug slightly.

NIKI KHAN

Sid! Dis-tant Thot ShiT...Tuh Tuh, ShiTuh.

SID

Dis-pant thop chit!

NIKI KHAN

Atta boy. So, what’s up, Jos?

JOSIE GREY

...Diantha responded…

NIKI laughs and slams the mug down on the table.

NIKI KHAN

Oh! DID she?

JOSIE GREY

Yes...I have it ready if you-

NIKI KHAN

OBVIOUSLY, Jos...give me the fuckin thing.

JOSIE sighs and hands the tablet to NIKI…

And NIKI just hands it to Sid. He giggles and presses some buttons with his free hand.
NIKI leans back in her chair and stares at him. Her eyes stay open as her gaze travels a hundred miles away...she nods slightly as she mouths something inaudible…

JOSIE slowly reaches out for the laptop and pulls it back towards her. She never takes her eyes off NIKI.

An uncomfortable BEAT.

NIKI KHAN

...do you know why I gave young Sidney that tablet?

JOSIE says nothing. NIKI doesn’t blink.

NIKI KHAN

...because it doesn’t matter...at all...what Diantha has to say. I don’t...care.

The room hangs silent. JOSIE simply stares at NIKI, who stares at Sid.

A BEAT.

NIKI KHAN

...do you think I can win this...Josie?

JOSIE remains silent. The buzz of the lights begin to grow louder.

NIKI KHAN

...do you think I’m...capable…

JOSIE says nothing…

The buzz grows louder.

JOSIE GREY

...I do.

NIKI nods, never looking away from Sid.

NIKI KHAN

...that makes two of us…

NIKI cocks her head, slightly narrowing her eyes.

NIKI KHAN

...I like having you around...Josie…

NIKI slowly turns her head to JOSIE. Her gaze sends shivers down JOSIE’s spine.

NIKI KHAN

...you’re...important to me.

NIKI leans in slightly.

NIKI KHAN

...so I’m fighting for you, too…and I won’t let you down…

NIKI reaches out, placing her hand on JOSIE’s shoulder.

NIKI KHAN

...I promise...

+=M_=\+O-/T-_=|H_\=_-+E=+_=\|R_=+

Pitch black.

Let me make something perfectly clear, Diantha.

The room is filled with a sinister red neon light. Niki Khan stands, hair in a ponytail and adorned in her leather apron. She softly shakes her head.

I am - not now, not was, nor will be - anybody’s stepping stone. Right? The sun has never risen on a day I bowed to an opponent, and it never will...you may have this idea in your head that this will just be a walk in the park for you...a well deserved break under the guise of something more high stakes…

Niki raises her right hand and scratches her cheek...her hand is dripping with blood...the blood smears down her cheek like war paint. She slowly lowers her hand and smiles.

...but life moves pretty fast, doesn’t it? And before you know it, you’re going to wake up...look over past your big dakimakura pillow...and notice that you, once again, dropped the ball and are... once again... not the champion.

She raises both hands and smirks. Both hands are covered in thick, clumpy blood.

I have to give you credit, though, poppet! You are one HELL of a success story! Right? You are always the underdog; everything you do, OOZING with emotion and heart! FIGHT DIANTHA, FIGHT! Right? The fans, RALLYING behind you as you DRAMATICALLY fall short again and again...grrr, but you fight! You FIGHT! You FIGHT! And then one day...ONE DAY, you manage to pull it ALL together, FIGHT through the pain, AND GET THAT WIN! GO DIANTHA! It happened when Natalie turned her back on you, it happened when you lost to Dulce at Final Destination, it happened when ERIS...ERIS, of all people cashed in on you...your BIGGEST moments, are when you’re at your LOWEST.

Right?

Niki scoffs and rubs her chin. Blood drips off as she shakes her head.

...you are at your best...when you’re a victim.

Niki looks up into the camera. She smiles.

That’s where we...differ…You are...the perfect prey...

The camera slowly zooms out, revealing Niki elbow deep in a goat carcass. She brandishes her signature knife in her right hand as she slowly and methodically cuts through ligaments and tendons.

You have made a career out of being the ultimate underdog, haven’t you? The lovable loser we all can relate to. If Diantha can fight through all those inherent flaws and roadblocks, then anybody can. You have something in your way, you fight through it and get back up, no matter how many times you get knocked down. You are this cinematic loser that rises through the ranks, reaches the top, and has a dramatic fall to the bottom, where the story repeats itself again in the subsequent sequels. Always fighting from their back; a hero to the downtrodden…forever the dark horse, never the favorite.

Niki chuckles and cocks her head slightly.

Ohhhh poppet…

How...sad.

See, I am the opposite. I am what you would call EFFICIENT. While YOU have made a career out of big dramatic moments and HOLY SHIT Close Calls...I have made my living off making GOOD on my word, FIRST TRY. I have made my name off delivering when I SAY I’m going to deliver, and I have made people FAR stronger, FAR faster, and FAR MORE dangerous than you WEEP at my feet. When I was in Thailand, fighting for a Muay Thai gold, I didn’t have some big dramatic run for the belt...I didn’t have a big anime moment where I finally hit my FULL POWER, and unleashed on my long dominant foe in the epic climactic showdown…I simply went out, DID WHAT I DO BEST, and DELIVERED on my word. I have a reputation EVERYWHERE I go as someone who gets the job DONE, and I get the job done CORRECTLY.

Your whole life is the struggle...mine is the results.

Niki cuts out a large slab of meat and holds it up. Her mouth curves into a smile as her eyes survey the perfect chop of meat.

...and the only result I allow myself is perfection…

Niki gently places the slab of meat off to the side and drives the knife into the goat carcass.

She slowly runs her bloody hands through her hair, slicking it back with the thick red substance.

See, unlike you? I don’t buckle under pressure and require several do-overs to finally gain my footing. I REVEL in it. I EMBRACE the pressure and use it to FUEL me. The world that I come from? The REAL world? You don’t GET another opportunity to take what's yours. You don’t GET to go back to the drawing board and take a walk in a fuckin Bonsai garden and “find yourself”...you get ONE chance...you get ONE shot, and that’s it. I have never wasted an opportunity in my life, and you can be DAMN sure I’m not going to start with you. This is a fucking WAKE UP call, Diantha...this is a god damn FIRE ALARM going off at 2 in the morning while your house goes up in flames around you...YOU have done the ONE thing someone like you should NEVER do, and that’s buy into your own hype. You think that because you beat Dulce on your fifth fuckin try, you’re better than me? You think Cos you finally got a win over Azumi, you can get complacent? Complacency KILLS, Diantha...and your title reign was dead the SECOND they announced that you would be facing me.

Niki scoffs and wipes her mouth with her hand. She licks the blood off her lips and cracks her neck.

You are entering into a ring...with someone that frankly? Wants this more than you do...Who NEEDS this more than you. You, Diantha, chose LONG AGO that you were going to fight for yourself and ONLY yourself. Good for you.

Niki raises a bloody finger and opens her eyes wide.

But I fight for something greater...I fight for the benefit of my family...I fight for the benefit of my company...When you do things for yourself? You can easily explain your losses and make excuses...but there are no excuses for me. There never have been, there never will be…

I simply go out...and win.

Niki chuckles as she pulls the knife out of the carcass and drives it back into the gut. She never looks away from the camera as she cuts.

...when I say I’m a killer...does my voice tremble...poppet?

Niki finishes cutting and proudly stabs the knife into the neck of the dead goat. She smiles and holds up what appears to be its heart.

A Drake has never lost to a Rosso…

And Tuesday morning?

That statistic remains the same.

I know...what I have to do.

And I WILL do it. Perfectly.

Niki takes a large bite out of the heart and chews. Blood drips from her chin. Her teeth pierce through the slab of meat and grind it into a red mush...Niki smiles and sighs...she finally closes her eyes, as if at peace.

...Mama’s Home, Poppet…

The inverted red neon cross of Wolvesden sparks to life behind her, casting Niki in shadow. She is only a silhouette...until she opens her eyes…

...Mama’s Home…

The lights cut.

Niki cackles.

WOLVES

AETERNUM

Aria Jaxon, Jeff X, The Banshee and Eon Blue have spoken. It’s such good shit!

Re: OWA Promos October 24th 2020, 11:33 pm by **Diantha Rosso**

Tigerland Strip
Baton Rouge, Louisiana

Diantha Rosso had not been in a very good mental place since the events of the last Odyssey. The first few nights she flew back home to Louisiana, finding various bars that were open and drinking herself into a self-pitying stupor. On more than one occasion there were men and women with black eyes and busted lips who had incurred the wrath of the Lioness. Sitting at the bar of the latest place she had found to drink her sorrows away, a very familiar face had tracked her down, shaking his head in annoyance at the sight.

Carlos: Hey. You know it’s a pandemic on and shit, right? Alcohol isn’t good for ya.

Diantha immediately recognizes the voice and turns her head slowly, her eyes clearly glazed over a bit from the excess drinking.

Diantha: What are you doing here?

Carlos: Being a good big brother for once. (Carlos hops over to the stool directly beside his little sister, waving off the bartender when she turns to him.) I’m a designated driver tonight, I’m good. Maybe some water.

Diantha starts to laugh uncontrollably for a few moments, banging her fist on the bar.

Diantha: You, not drinking? That’s like Aria Jaxon not having hair dye or Jesus not having disciples! The hell do you want?

Carlos: Well, I saw what happened on Odyssey and think you could use a friend. Maybe a brother too.

Diantha: Psst….I got a secret to tell you! I think April is banging some guy in that other company she was working for….WaterWorld? W-water...WRESTLEWORLD! That’s it! Some pizza boy?

Carlos: What the hell are you doing here? No, seriously. What are you doing? You think getting drunk is gonna help you?

Diantha: I’m just blowin’ off some steam is all! April taught me how to do that….Have fun every once in a while. I was always the one not drinking…..DRINKING IS KINDA FUN!? HOW DID SHE KEEP THIS FROM ME!?

Carlos shakes his head a bit.

Carlos: Look, I don’t know why she did what she did. But..

Diantha: But...you’ve backstabbed so many partners!

Carlos: Wait….

Diantha: Donovan T….Kevin Devastation….Dedede….Lioncross....GI Styles…*gasp* YOU TURNED ON A FACTION ONCE TOO!

Carlos: GODDAMN IT THAT IS NOT THE POINT!

Some of the other patrons of the bar look in their direction for a moment but one glance from the elder Rosso sibling sends their gaze elsewhere instantly.

Carlos: I know you’re pretty fucking wasted, but this isn’t going to do. You’re a world champion now and you’ve got to prepare like one. I know what April did hurt you. I know you don’t feel like you have any friends in the world and you certainly don’t want the man who has paid more in bar tabs and disorderly conduct fines than a small island country’s GDP to lecture you...but you have got to get your head out of your ass. You defend your championship for the third time soon and if you don’t get yourself together, it will be the last time.

Diantha looks down at her half-empty glass and then at her brother, trying to fight through her drunken stupor to express what she’s really feeling.

Diantha: The family, Natalie...now April. I’m….I’m just tired of people turning their back on me is all...why do people hate me? Am I really holding people back?

Carlos: You’re a wrestler. And a champion one at that. Part of your job is to keep other people from getting to your level. That’s how the sport works. The longer you’re on top, the lonlier it’s going to be. I wish I could say some sunshine and rainbow bullshit to make it feel better, but in reality it’s not going to be. This is what you wanted, remember? You wanted to be on top. You wanted to have the pressure. Now you’ve got to deal with it, and this business with April is part and parcel of the package.

With the realization dawning on her, Diantha slowly nods. Seeing that she has stopped her drinking, Carlos pays the rest of her tab and helps her to her feet.

Carlos: Good. Let’s get you out of here and out of trouble. If you were drinking what I think you were drinking, you’re probably going to need a LOT of coffee in the morning.

When did April Song abandon reason for madness?

Is the allure of a world title so much that a woman would become Judas?

I don’t know. Maybe that was her plan all along. But the last thing I ever thought in my life was that Revy would be the catalyst for all of this. I am not going to put on a pretense for anyone. I’m hurt. I’m genuinely in pain. Not just from the attack from those three other women and April….but by the words that were spoken about me, the accusations that were thrown to me. People think that because I’m a wrestler and don’t allow myself to get close to many people that I have considerably thick skin and don’t take insults and allegations to heart. I’m a human being, just like anyone else. For my entire adult life, I have spent almost every waking second of my days trying to become what I am now, a World Champion. Did I rail against the establishment, did I challenge the norms and places of those above me as I made the slow, painful crawl to the top of the OWA mountain?

Absolutely.

And in some ways, my suspicions were eventually confirmed. Viola and Natalie made it known I was to be kept far from the title after they conspired to keep it from me. But this time...what does April see that I don’t? I didn’t ask to be put in the Promethean Chamber. Dulce recommended me. I didn’t cut the line to get my title match with Eris, it was my right as a former champion to demand that match. Ever since I have pulled this title away from the grasp of the Void, I have been waiting and ready for every challenge that comes my way. There are not many former Women’s World Champions around these days, but I have beaten two of them. I have been patiently waiting for Jonetta to come forward with the Athena’s Cup, but she is being just as patient as the former holder was.

I have tried so hard to be a champion that OWA could be proud of. That my peers could be proud of. That my family could be proud of. Even though I have made it clear that I feel that I am at the top of the mountain, I never anticipated that I would ever be seen as someone holding others back. This is a harsh sport and a harsh business, no doubt about it. Not EVERYONE is going to get opportunities that they are worthy of. Not EVERYONE will have a chance to wear the title that I’m holding right now. That’s just the nature of the beast. But my job as Champion is to make sure that as many of those people get opportunities as possible...and maybe to that end I have failed so far. I had to settle old business first. Eris to settle that score, Natalie to put an end to the last crumbs of self-doubt in my mind and Dulce to affirm my place. The past now has almost been put to the side and maybe now I can focus on giving the people like Revy, Llorona, Morrighan, Jonetta and April crave.

But there’s still one more task, isn’t there?

Niki, it has been a long time, hasn’t it? Please extend my congratulations to JD Damon for his championship win and I wish you and your family nothing but the best. You are right. You did mold me. You and Natalie changed my life forever in more ways than you realize. The two of you broke down the naivete and bad habits of a timid young woman who wanted to do great things that didn’t know how. You showed me a path...and I followed it. But the path that you and Natalie were leading me down was only going to bring me to self-ruin. Or did you forget that I was locked away from the other Wolvesden members, forgotten...slowly driving myself mad just trying to get where I was so desperate to go?

I remember. I also remember leaving, in my own little way following Natalie’s footsteps one more time. I knew that I couldn’t get to where I wanted to go being one of your cubs. I had to find my own way, sharpen my own claws. I had to find my identity. The weight of the name Rosso was a burden that I wanted but was denied me for so long by my own family. Do you understand the anger, the rage that it puts in one's heart when the people you love tell you that you are not fit to pursue something you love? I don’t think you do. Yes, you all broke me. Yes, you built me up to the wrestler I have become. Mostly. But you see, there was a flaw in your planning somewhere. There was a piece that malfunctioned. Surely if I was the unstoppable machine you purport me to be back then, there wouldn’t have been anything to stop me, right? But there was a flaw, and I think after all this time I’ve figured it out.

Finding the strength I needed to win the title that you are challenging for? I found that all on my own. I found the fire in my own soul to beat all those women you mentioned. Not you, not Natalie! I am the one who endured everything imaginable to stand where I stand today, not you two. I am the one who turned OWA on its head, suffering the longest losing streak in the company before becoming one of its standard-bearers. I. DID. ALL. OF. THAT…

On my own.

I know who you are. I know what you are capable of. But the reason that you’re going to lose to me is the very same hubris that brought down Natalie in the end: you don’t think I’ve outgrown you. For some reason, you still believe that even though I was once a part of your pack that you have anything left to teach me. You do not. You have earned your opportunity, don’t let me be misunderstood. But EARNING a title match in this sport is not the same as WINNING the title...this is a reality that I can attest to quite thoroughly and bitterly. Which sob story do you want to hear first? The night Natalie and I choked away a handicap match because we got too cute? Or perhaps you would like to hear about both of the times Dulce turned me away with gold on the line? Or the time Natalie screwed me out of my first moment of glory? Or the time I actually WON the title but lost it mere seconds afterwards?

It’s not how fast or how long the journey is to these kinds of matches...it’s how hard you fight and how lucky you get once you’re in them. You forget that even though you know me very well, I also know you better than anyone on the roster that’s not affiliated with the Wolvesden. I know what your bread and butter is and that’s why I’ve worked hard to become as well rounded as I can be. Power, speed, technique, creativity, heart. Especially the heart. That’s the last piece I had to find away from the Wolves. I don’t know if you’ll ever truly understand what I mean by that too. Even though I’m a champion, you must understand that I’m never the hunted. I’m not some pig to be brought to slaughter. I’m not a sacrifice for your family and your ambitions. I am the Omega Wrestling Alliance’s Women’s World Wrestling Champion. And I am a lioness, a far cry from the warped, frustrated young woman you once coached. I wish I could lie to you right now and say that I am completely focused on you, that April’s betrayal and the amassing force of Revy, Jonetta, Llorona and Song don’t concern me, but I’m not a liar.

I am torn right now. I’m hurting. Not physically despite April and her new friends’ best efforts. But emotionally. That is something that should concern you and concern anyone who dares to try to step in a ring with me for this title. The last piece of the puzzle that I had to figure out was to channel my emotions, channel my passions, my rages, my love and hatred...into strength. That’s the miracle of Diantha Rosso that someone like you will never understand. You don’t just wrestle me physically when you cross paths with me in the ring. You wrestle me spiritually. You wrestle every part of my body and soul.

Let me put this in simplest form so there is no misunderstanding:

ON ODYSSEY YOU WILL GET EVERY LAST BIT OF ENERGY IN MY BODY! EVERY BIT OF FRUSTRATION THAT HAS BUILT UP IN MY BODY, EVERY BIT OF THE AMBITION TO RAISE NOT ONLY MY LEGACY BUT THE LEGACY OF THIS TITLE, EVERY BIT OF PAIN THAT APRIL AND HER FRIENDS INFLICTED ON ME I’M GOING TO INFLICT ON YOU ONE HUNDRED FOLD JUST FOR BEING WITHIN PUNCHING DISTANCE!

I will always have a debt that I owe to Wolvesden. My wrestling career would be quite different without you coming into my life. My debt, however, doesn’t include you making your point against me. It does not include beating me on Odyssey, and it does not include walking away with this championship that I have given everything to possess and am willing to LOSE everything just to keep.

Even if it means reaching into cold, dark places that I don’t like talking about or even thinking about their existence in my heart and soul...and unleashing violence upon your body the likes of which even someone as battle-hardened as you will flinch at.

You will never forget the name Diantha Rosso after our match. And you will realize that this land, this title that I’m holding, doesn't belong to the wolves or the hyenas assembling to take me down.

IT BELONGS TO THE LIONESS. And contrary to what you think, you aren’t strong enough to pry it away from my claws.

Aria Jaxon, Jeff X and The Banshee have spoken. It’s such good shit!

Re: OWA Promos October 24th 2020, 10:46 pm by **Oliver Harpe**

So, this guy Samuel Ogden turned on me and beat my ass. This shouldn’t be a surprise to me at this point, but it never ceases to amaze me how many snakes are actually employed here. In all honesty, I shouldn’t be surprised because these dudes will take the simplest opportunity just to get themselves on the top of the card. However, that doesn’t faze me; why should I care that some random dude is selling himself out to be someone else’s lackey? He’s just another fish in this big blue sea of talent, trying to find his way to some metaphorical crown that never existed in the first place. This place is mere chaos; when you have a horrible leader who doesn’t have the balls to set any order, everyone will do whatever the hell they want. RD3 claims to be the face of law and order, but all I see is weakness and every sign of having an inferiority complex. Now, you must be happy that Samuel is on your side, trying to humiliate and beat me out of this company, but I’m sorry to be a party pooper; that ain’t happening anytime soon. You see, at the end of the day, Scott Oasis is the one signing my checks and RD3 must begrudgingly give them to me. He didn’t have the balls to take out Jon McAdams himself and now turns on me for his own sin?! The only sin I committed was lying during this whole situation. I got my money and got the hell out of sight and took on really tough guys who nobody ever thought I would beat. Surprisingly, I did and I also managed to keep myself out of this stupid war going on. However, guys like Samuel Ogden and The Council want to get me involved. I’m going on record and I hope every guy involved in this pointless war sees this; you don’t want me involved at all. The moment I decide to jump into this will be the most uncontrolled chaos you’ve ever seen in your life. My goal won’t be the top spot on the brand, no-no; I’m aiming for heads and taking out the guys who decided to get me involved. If you put your hands on me, you get added to my gravelist. I don’t care who you are, where you’re from, or what your goals are, but if you touch me, I’m coming for your ass. No hard feelings, especially for you two Sam and RD3. You see, I don’t hate either one of you; I just hate what you’re trying to play as. Just come out and say it; you’re both spineless cowards who can’t get the job done without your friends The Council. Don’t BS me and pretend as if you guys don’t have any sort of relationship with these guys; you didn’t attack them after our match. You went after me and let these goofballs jump me. You aren’t a star, you’re just leeching off the guys who could give you the image of being a star! You say your fists and fights bring your meanings and that they show the world that your message is. Honestly, my cause ain’t really that deep man. I don’t care about any cause; I’m still here as a neutral party who will take down whoever gets in my way of making money and living my life. I’m not a stooge for RD3; he looked for me and I made the calls associated with Jon McAdams. I told him he’d be taken out and he was, but I didn’t need to get my hands dirty. The Council wants to take the credit for that so sure, they actually did the deed but I will keep saying this; three against one isn’t anything to be proud of. Y’all are some cowards who need to get your asses beat for trying to gang up against me. Last week taught me that I don’t need any partners; I’m going on my vendetta alone.

This week, I’m coming after you, Sam. There’s no deep meaning to you trying to take me out and my cashflow. I didn’t need you last week to win and I don’t need you this week either; I just need a punching bag to prepare for RD3’s reckoning. I didn’t take your glory at all; imagine thinking that you were entitled to tagging in. If you really wanted to be in the ring with these guys, you would just tag yourself in more often. I was not focused on you when I was supposed to be looking at my opponents. Just because you’re not the center of attention doesn’t mean that you should try to stab my back and jump me after these other guys did. That action just makes you scum and nothing better. You aren’t some divine being or anything like that; you’re just an insane guy who is trying to justify his pussy boy mentality. Our match is gonna be a bloodbath, not some work of art; I’m going to get my hands on you and send you packing. I’m planning to humiliate you in front of the people who you seek to please; their opinions aren’t going to get you to the top. The world has always viewed me as a criminal and a hitman, and that will never change. I’m damn proud of being who I am and I have nothing to hide from anyone. I’m here to do my thing and fight whoever I’m booked against every week. You will have to kill me to make me beg for mercy; that’s the code I make for myself. You have no will or power over me too. You don’t know me at all, so I’d recommend you stop trying to psychoanalyze me like every other fanboy on the internet. I’m a heathen and I will show you what that word really means. I’m gonna keep this simple and sweet compared to the unnecessary crap that came out of your mouth. I’m joining this battle, ready to tear your head off and kick over your gravestone once I’m done with you. These are your consequences and you will deal with them. Don’t blame me for your idiotic choices; man up and accept the pandora’s box you’ve opened. You are no redeemer; you’re a dude who’s got small meat syndrome and is trying to make up for it by trying to please a bunch of nobodies. Go ahead though, I’m not your dad, but I’m going to beat you like if it were him. I’m not here to humble you or have any feeling of justice; I’m just here to kick your ass and shut you up. You can’t beat me, even if I’m not at 100%. That’s how bad you’re gonna look; you lack grit and talent, dude; you’re weak. I’m gonna make you wish you hadn’t written your name on this contract and been another goon for Nathan Fiora’s gang of religious bitches. Accept the truth and get out of your bubble. It’s been way too long; be a man and not a bitch this time. Come alone and fight me.

Aria Jaxon has spoken. It’s such good shit!

Re: OWA Promos October 24th 2020, 10:38 pm by **Abholos**

Kingdom Promo #1

“Hallelujah”

Various scenes are being shown that showed the past and possibly the present and future of various OWA superstars. As these scenes played out, we can hear the voice of Edward Softly singing, backed by a choir.

Edward Softly: Now, I've heard there was a secret chord...

Havoc is shown standing in the ring, holding the OWA World Championship.

Edward Softly: That David played, and it pleased the Lord...

Jeff X is seen staring out of a window at an explosion going off in his town.

Edward Softly: But you don't really care for music, do you?

An empty ring is shown in the middle of Yankee Stadium just hours after the events of Game Over.

Edward Softly: It goes like this, the fourth, the fifth!

Stephanie Matsuda is seen walking through her War Room Dojo up to her collection of titles hanging on the wall.

Edward Softly: The minor fall, the major lift!

Moongoose McQueen is watching video footage featuring The Ashes of the Wake and Frontline on a smart TV.

Edward Softly: The baffled king composing Hallelujah!

Arata Asakura is standing by the bay in Japan, staring out at sea

Choir: Hallelujah!

A clip of Ryo Sakazaki wrestling is shown, with the crowd celebrating in the background.

Choir: Hallelujah!

Jeff X is marching down a backstage corridor with a look of determination on his face.

Choir: Hallelujah!

A young Alyssa Grace is shown watching Aria Jaxon and Stephanie Matsuda wrestle as a team during their indie days.

Choir: Hallelujah!

Prince Maverick is shown pulling Hana Nakajima from the street as a speeding car drives by.

Edward Softly: I did my best, it wasn't much...

Stephanie Matsuda is seen standing at two different graves in two different periods of her life.

Edward Softly: I couldn't feel, so I tried to touch...

Kenndy Drake is seen embracing his wife Niki.

Edward Softly: I've told the truth, I didn't come to fool ya...

Arata is kissing his wife and children goodbye before heading out to the next Kingdom show.

Edward Softly: And even though it all went wrong...

The Infernal Beast is staring down members of Frontline with The Ashes standing behind him.

Edward Softly: I'll stand before the lord of song...

Jeff X is staring down at Aria from the nosebleed section of an empty arena with Stephanie b behind her looking in confusion.

Edward Softly: With nothing on my tongue but hallelujah!

Purple mist appears around Appalachian Strong Style as the events from Game Over replay itself.

Choir: Hallelujah!

Abholos appears stepping out from the shadows...

Choir: Hallelujah!

Matsuda, Asakura, and Sakazaki stand ready to fight him.

Choir: Hallelujah!

A glimpse of Kingdom’s four main factions is shown fighting each other.

Choir: Hallelujah!

The fight continues with everyone performing their signature moves and finishers on each other all over the arena. The choir continues to sing ‘Hallelujah’ until the song ends with the entire Kingdom roster surrounding The Ashe of the Wake as they stand their ground with the World, Tag Team, Spartan, Outlaw, and Openweight Championships in their hands.
The scene morphs into a new one as Edward Softly stands in the center of the ring inside an Empty War Room Dojo. In his hand is a picture of Stephanie and Aria in their early wrestling years. He smiles at the picture as he takes out a lighter and slowly burns it.

Edward Softly: Relationships are so flammable, huh? One moment you’re the best of friends, the next you’re at each other’s throats. Thus the story of Aria and Cloudy. Two little girls lost in a county fair who grew up as the best of frenemies. It’s interesting to see the two of you parading around as if nobody remembers last year’s Boiling Point event. What about the year before that where Ms. Jaxon left her friend behind. Or is it that Cloud was so desperate to be a world champion that she picked the Women’s World Championship over leaving a toxic environment with her friend? I wonder how it must feel for Aria to be in the decline of her career, standing in the shadow of a Blie Maiden in her prime? This alliance can only hold for so long. The two of you are loners by nature, queens standing on your own individual mountains. Aria is the Outlaw Champion but if she was to lose that, then she’d be “Aria Single Belt” to “Cloudy Infinite Belts”. Can Jaxon’s ego deal with the reality that her own friend has finally surpassed her? She is The Maiden, after all, the future vessel for The Bringer. More on that another time…

Edward Softly snaps his fingers and the scene around him changed. He was still standing in the ring but inside the Bushwick Community Center.

Edward Softly: Do you remember this place, Stephanie? I do. I remember being in this very ring standing across from a man I once said was like a father to me. This is the same man who I warned to not get into the ring with me. Outside of his doctor, I was the only one in the world who knew about Michael Hunter’s heart problems. I tried to keep him from trying to relive his glory days, but the stubborn mule said he wanted to show the people that he could still go. He said he wanted you to be proud of him, Stephanie. He made me promise to not hold back. I was going to take the fall for him, but he said he would never forgive me if I didn’t. What was I - formerly known as Eddie King - was supposed to do Stephanie!? This might be a shock to you because I look so much different then, but that was me. This was us…

Edward takes out a picture of Eddie King and Stephanie Matsuda together in their early days.

OWA Promos Ciq3DaWWgAAxwC3

Edward Softly: You were Eddie King’s fiance. He loved you more than anything. But did you want to hear his side of the story on that fateful evening he killed Michael!? No! You were too caught up in the darkness of your heart. It was your anger, your rage that isolated Eddie from the world. When everyone blacklisted him, you could’ve come to his defense, but you didn’t! When The Land of Elite inquired about his character...you admonished him. That could’ve changed his life, Stephanie. He would’ve earned enough for his mother’s surgery, but you were too caught up in your own pain. You knew how much Eddie loved his mother, how he was willing to do anything to make her life better. You met the woman! You were going to call her mother! But yet...that dark cloud of yours, Stephanie. Once you opened up...it was stormy weather for everyone around you. From the Hunters to 187, to everyone who knew and respected both Eddie and Michael! You could’ve prevented all of this! And yes that includes the former Eddie King making his transition into the gentleman you see before you. For you see, The Great Old Ones felt it necessary to recreate me into someone you knew, someone who once helped you give in to the darkness of our heart. Joseph knew all of your secrets, didn’t he? You believed in him and Alexis, huh? You once thought they were the family you always wanted. Even Meagan was there with you! But alas, you ran from them, just like you ran from Eddie, just like you continuously run from Aria! One day all of this running is going to catch up to you, “sweets”. My existence stems from your own, my dear Blue Maiden. Your malice birthed me into existence. You’re the one responsible for what I did to Azumi, Sakuya, Kawada, and anyone else who stood in my way. You’re responsible for Jeff X losing out on his big moment! You’re to blame for Moongoose McQueen losing his precious OWA World Championship! You’re the one who put in motion the events that would lead to King Havoc reigning over Kingdom. All you had to do was stand by your man. And now, Prince Maverick and Abholos are going to make you suffer. They’re going to dance on your graves and sacrifice you to the elder ones. Our fight in SSW didn’t end, Stephanie.

Edward snaps his fingers and now he’s standing in an empty Orange County Fair, where Aria and Stephanie met when they were kids.

Edward Softly: That was just the beginning, and now, here are, at the peak of the story. It’s all downhill from here on out. Will your friendship stand the test of time? Or will it fall apart like everything else in your lives? Tick...tock ladies. Hallelujah, for The Great Old Ones have spoken! As my maiden would say: know it, understand it, believe it.

As Edward snapped his fingers, everything faded to black.

Aria Jaxon has spoken. It’s such good shit!

Re: OWA Promos October 24th 2020, 9:17 pm by **Christopher Sabertooth**

The scene begins in the Ashes compound as Maverick, Jada Blaire and Havoc can be seen pacing around the hallway. Maverick has a look of concern on his face while Jada Blaire tries to bring him back to his senses while an irate Havoc can’t wait to get his hands dirty. The abduction of Abholos at the hands of the shin-SEKAI has had the opposite effect than intended. While it is supposed to weaken the Ashes troupes-- Havoc isn’t worried about the safety of Abholos. After all, he knows the monster inside out. If anything, shin-SEKAI will never be seen again-- Which Havoc certainly doesn’t oppose to. After the mockery of a matchup that was his fight against Moongoose McQueen.

“Where the fook is he? Like-- How am I ‘posed to take the Tag Belts if my partner isn’t even going to be there?” Questioned Maverick, with a large frown on his forehead.

“Abholos will be there.” Reassured Havoc, not paying attention to the tantrums thrown by the Crown Prince of the Ashes.

“It’s easy to say, innit? You’re not the one facing the Queens--” Before Maverick could finish his sentence, Havoc raises his finger signalling him to stop talking that Mav unwillingly obliged to.

“Trust me like you have all this time. Abholos will find a way. His power is immeasurable-- Moongoose would be signing his death warrant if he doesn’t let go of him. As for the Queens? I am facing Matsuda in WWH this week as well. I know what she’s capable of. I know what the God of SSW, Aria Jaxon is capable of. And I am not worried-- Because you and Abholos are more than fit to dethrone the Queens. I trust you, Prince. You’re not like Vincent or Knight. You came back from certain death at the hands of Kenny Drake and you haven’t looked back ever since. I treat you like my second in command. My right-hand man. Because you have EARNED that position. You’ve EARNED my respect, Prince. Have faith in Abholos for that is what I ask-- No further questions will be asked about the situation. And if that pesky runt McQueen finds a way to keep Abholos at bay, I will personally fix that problem for you. The OWA World Tag Team Championships BELONG to the Ashes.” Suggested Havoc, as Maverick eventually calms down. He nods at Havoc, acknowledging his leader before walking away. Jada Blaire approaches Havoc and sits by him.

“Do you truly believe all that? Do you truly believe that Abholos is fine?” Asked Jada, trying to find answers through the expressions on Havoc’s face. But the stone-faced Havoc looks at Jada as his demonic eyes let out a glow that is enough for Jada to back away and mind her own business. Havoc returns to be lost in thought. It’s almost like he feels anger, but he doesn’t want to show it.

“The Frontline and shin-SEKAI combined their forces to bring us down. Wolvesden appears to be stronger than ever as JD undergoes a career renaissance with his Spartan’s championship victory over Arata Asakura. And old foe in Miltiades has decided to make waves by returning with a cavalry of his own in the form of The Council. RD3 doesn’t want me to keep the OWA World Championship hostage-- EVERYBODY on Kingdom wants us gone. EVERYBODY! Nobody wants to affiliate with the Ashes because we are marked men. The moment Jeff X collapsed under my foot as I raised MY championship up in the air-- I knew that the world was gonna come crashing down on me. After all, you’re not really a champion if EVERYBODY isn’t trying to gut you alive and take everything you have worked YEARS to build. Is it really my fault? I could have been on Olympus right now as the Omega Heavyweight Champion if it wasn’t for Jeff not minding his own business and being a sore loser like he always is. Look at him now! He aligned himself with a despicable cunt like McQueen just so he could have the numbers advantage. And if all that wasn’t enough-- I’ve got MY OWN MEN failing me. Vincent has failed me TIME AND TIME AGAIN and Jacob Knight couldn’t be bothered to save his own fucking career even if I hand it on a silver platter for him. If it wasn’t for Abholos-- ABHOLOS! THEY EVEN TOOK AWAY ABHOLOS! MY ABHOLOS! Do you know how that makes me feel?! You’ve got fucking braindead morons like the Infernal Beast trying to sabotage me like a power play because I wouldn’t let his incompetent ass anywhere near my movement. I HAVE ENOUGH PEOPLE SLACKING AROUND!! I don’t need another! Maverick is the only man I can trust, at this time. Yet everybody around me seems to support the idea of him BREAKING FREE! OH MY FUCKING GOD! NONE OF Y’ALL GAVE A FUCK ABOUT MAVERICK UNTIL HE JOINED THE ASHES! YOU DIDN’T WANT TO FACE HIM! YOU WANTED NOTHING FROM HIM!! While I-- I gave him the chance that nobody else could….” Havoc whispered at the end, looking lost for words. He takes a moment to come to terms with all the bullshit surrounding him right now. The Ashes haven’t had the best of times for the past couple of weeks but the winds of change were around the corner.

“And now I’ve got another Frontline member knocking at my doors-- Oh, ‘beating Havoc will be our ticket to the World Title’. A 6’4’ young Don that captured the minds of the MMA world, now having transitioned into the World of OWA. And somehow, he already finds himself aligned with the likes of Jeff X and Arata Asakura. That’s quite an endorsement to begin your career over, isn’t it Theo? Not that you understand a single word I have to say. But you don’t have to, do you? My actions have always been louder than any words ever could and STILL-- Still I see you getting manipulated by that has-been clout chasing cunt, Banch. You’ve got quite the hands on you-- But you let a fucking moron decide your future? A man strapping himself to a young prospect for the hopes of being relevant again. I honor him by even calling him a has-been because you gotta BE somebody first. All the titles he won are in the past-- We don’t deal with that in this business. Things change at a moment’s notice but one thing is for sure-- THIS...Right now, is MY moment. My run under the spotlight. Theodor hasn’t done anything of value ever since joining OWA but he is already a made man for having been MENTIONED in the same conversation with somebody of my caliber. He’s an overhyped rookie backed by a desperate yes-man. In practice, Theo has NO business even being in the ring with the OWA World Champion. What has he done? Lost to Asakura a couple of times. Lost to Aria. Lost to whoever the fuck is willing to give it a try. And Banch REALLY has him believing like he even stands a chance against me? ME?! There’s a reason why a FUCKING ARMY has been assembled just to take me down and they STILL haven’t managed to do that. Moongoose failed to take the title off me so he took the next best thing. He thinks he can just abduct a fucking monster like Abholos without any consequences… I am sure even your leader Jeff X isn’t as dumb. And that’s a man more concerned about getting his knob wet than winning championships. If Banch wasn’t enough, they have you taking orders from an Alcoholic with daddy issues too? Such a shame, Theo. Such a shame. You could have been shaped into the MONSTER that you’re capable of being but you’d rather be surrounded by blood-sucking leeches that want your service to FURTHER THEIR OWN careers. Their own fucking agendas. I WOULD HAVE TAKEN YOU FOR WHO YOU ARE, THEO!! You would have been an asset to The Ashes but now you stand along the Frontlines, waiting for your turn to die. Well, you don’t have to wait much longer!” Havoc exclaimed, almost letting out a chuckle. He has a mixed bag of emotions flowing through him at the moment.

“You see how they didn’t even put the title on the line this time around. Even the management doesn’t think you’re capable of beating me-- let alone taking my title. These are the people you lie your trust in? They will suck you dry for every dime that you can make until you just can’t anymore-- Banch will move on to another top prospect he can suck the life out of and you’ll be down in the gutter for the rest of your fucking career. THAT’S the path you have chosen, Theo. One day, you’ll understand these words. YOU’LL LOOK INTO MY EYES AND UNDERSTAND EVERY FUCKING WORD I SAW NO MATTER WHAT LANGUAGE IT IS. You’ll feel the pain that I’ve felt, Theo! That’s when you’ll realize what you’re truly dealing with. Banch has you believe that you’re capable enough of beating the OWA World Champion…. You’re not capable enough of walking around this company without your babysitter-- You want me to hold your fucking hands and show you around the ring?! Cause that’s the impression I get from the relationship that you and Banch share. He says that you want this more than I do-- THE FUCK DOES HE KNOW!!? Does he realize how long I have waited for this moment? How long have I waited to be called the OWA World Champion? Do you think I will let this moment pass as Moongoose did? Or even worse-- As Jeff X did? Christopher Sabertooth BUSTED his ass for fucking years and never got the recognition until I took his body and this company hostage. I flipped the fucking switch and turned it over its head-- AND THEN… THEY SAW WHAT HE WAS CAPABLE OF! THIS COULD HAVE BEEN HIM, THEO! HE COULD HAVE BEEN THE WORLD CHAMPION BUT THEY TREATED HIM AS A FUCKING JOKE-- A VALUE PLAYER… JUST ANOTHER MEMBER OF THIS ROSTER. And now they fucking cry! Their bawl their eyes out and want Sabertooth back because I will slit the throats of each and every fucking body that stands in my way. My reign will be eternal. My power will be immeasurable. My legacy will be immortalized with the NEW WORLD that I build from the Ashes of the old that will be burned in the flames of my fury! Hell hath no answer to the Nightmare King. I WAS STABBED ALL OVER MY BODY AND I WALKED OUT OF GAME OVER AS THE FUCKING CHAMPION!! What the fuck could you do to ME? I am untouchable, Theo. Y’all have amassed AN ARMY and it STILL won’t be enough. The Ashes of the Wake aren’t about to die at the hands of the weak-minded individuals that oppose them. That’s right-- You’re just a supergroup. A collection of individuals who want us gone while WE ARE A FAMILY! WE ARE ONE! WE ARE THE REVOLUTION THAT WAS PROMISED! There have been fables pointing at the destruction of this world and we are its personification. We command Death. We hold the keys to the Kingdom despite what they’ll have you believe. And we’ll take this ship down under with us if that is what it takes to END this corrupted organization. Fuck RD3. Fuck The Council. Fuck Wolvesden. Fuck Shin-SKEAI. FUCK THE FRONTLINE!! AND FUCK YOU, THEODOR PAVEL! You’re as good as dead. SEE YOU IN HELL!!” He screamed as the lights around him turn off in an instant. All that can be seen are the bright burning eyes of the Demon waiting to demolish everything at sight.

Fade to Black

Aria Jaxon and The Banshee have spoken. It’s such good shit!

Re: OWA Promos October 24th 2020, 8:58 pm by **Michelangelo**

We open up on a shirtless Chase Vedder, sitting in a float in the pool of his lavish Indiana mansion on a dimly-lit Saturday evening, sipping on a glass of Pinotage wine.

”Mark, Mark, Mark…”

Chase suddenly bursts out in laughter and almost spills his drink into the freshly chlorinated swimming pool. He shakes his head mockingly as he recounts the past week.

"For someone who has complained so much about what I’ve had to say, you sure don’t shut the fuck up, do you? First of all… are you stupid, mun? You really expect people to believe that that crummy old studio you just so happened to waltz into without so much as a question from security was the VNN studio? You must be pulling my leg, no? I was literally in a faction named Tres Comas Club. If that was the best that I could do then… well… needless to say I should never have been in that group. Just look at how I am living right now. The swimming pool that I am floating in right now is bigger than that pitiful excuse of a “studio” you thought would be funny to stick some scrawled writing on the door of. I do not know what you hoped to accomplish. Surely you must have known that you would get ridiculed. Did you think this would make me think less of you and allow yourself to be underestimated? No, no, no! For you see the South African Sage is much too wily for that, Mr. Michaels. I might think very little of you and your wrestling capabilities but you forget that this is my re-debut in the Omega Wrestling Alliance. I shouldn’t need to remind everyone but I was one of OWA’s hottest commodities when this company first opened its doors. The only reason I left was to honour my great family heritage in my homeland of South Africa and bring back even more riches. I have made more money for my family name in less than three years than my second cousin Edward has in his entire music career. Let’s talk at the matter at hand, shall we?"

Vedder takes a sip of his wine and gives an exaggerated "ahh" sound after swallowing, then speaks with a confident smirk.

”Mark, I already told you why I'm gonna stomp your ass into the mud — it was literally explained to you on television — but I guess you don’t really watch the show that you compete on, and then in all of your pointless ranting your tiny pea-brain was unable to retain the information I gave you. That is, quite frankly, the only reasonable justification that I can think of. Luckily for you, I love to brag. So, Mark, allow me to begin by reminding you that I was personally requested by Nas himself to be by his side. Nothing more than that should even need to be said... but... we have clearly already established that you are on the slower side so allow me to enlighten that dim-witted brain of yours. Nas and I’s relationship dates back years, all the way back to the first iteration of Strong Style Wrestling, and he treated me the way I deserved to be treated: as an equal. Unlike you I have actually defeated worthy opponents, the greatest of which is the man CM Nas himself! I hate to bring it up when he and I are working so closely together as the last thing I want to do is undermine our mission but I would bet good American money that you have never beat anyone even remotely close to his caliber of talent. Meanwhile, to this day the only man who has beat me was that behemoth that called himself Gronk and even then the outcome was questionable at best. You know what that means, right? That means that this strange little narrative that you wish to spin simply does not work. I am practically untouchable. It took a man almost twice my size to keep me down and even then I bounced back when OWA came knocking on my door asking me to sign a contract. They have been sending me emails, calling my phone, one time they even had a man come knocking on the door of my South African mansion, practically begging me to return to the company. What they failed to understand each and every time is that I had no reason to return. What could I possibly gain? I already earn more money than I ever could by wrestling, I get to live the most lavish lifestyle, and wrestling is thriving! Or… so I thought. It seems that OWA has been in desperate need of a facelift for a long, long time. People like you, Mark Michaels, have infested OWA with your pathological use of clichés and projection. You dare to call me a follower when you are quite literally the disciple of a man who calls himself “Father” like some religious zealot. There is only one father and he answers to no man, least of all Nathan Fiora. He is just another example of the cesspool that Omega has become. He has been allowed to spew his heretical nonsense to these people without anyone putting him in line, without anyone to stop him or morons like you from running around. With every passing week hour I see more and more examples of why Nas had to call me in. They say that you should never let the inmates run the prison but a more apt comparison in this case would be clowns running a circus. I look at the championship history and I see names like Moongoose McQueen in the company’s world championship history and I wonder just how this happened? More importantly, how do we put an end to it? That is why I have come back, Mark Michaels. I am here to put an end to people like you thinking their name is anything of value and to bring OWA back to the heights it was once capable of reaching in its opening year.”

With that, Chase's once-smug expression turns foul, and he glares right to the camera.

“The best way to achieve that goal right now? Winning the OWA Hybrid Championship tournament and becoming the first ever Hybrid Champion. If you think I'm all fun and games then you've read me dead wrong. I am deadly serious when the time comes for me to put my money where my mouth is... and I’m going make bank when I eat you up and spit you out. Mark my words.”

The scene fades out as Vedder floats off across the pool and away from the camera as he returns to enjoying his evening.

Re: OWA Promos October 24th 2020, 7:05 pm by **Aria Jaxon**

THEY ALL FALL DOWN -- LEXINGTON, KENTUCKY.

There’s strength in numbers.

Or at least, that’s what we’re always told. That’s the loud and clear message conveyed by the current landscape of OWA. A quick look around leaves little doubt that people have come to the conclusion that the best way to ensure that you live to see another day and wrestle another match is to surround yourself with as many friends -- or as much insulation -- as possible. The Phantom Troupe, a group I know very well, is still running around over on Olympus. Very much a shell of the one-time cool kids’ club that put eyes on early SSW, but still around and causing problems for people. The Frontline has taken up a noble cause, though they seem to be taking L’s left and right...whether it’s Havoc getting one over on poor Jeff, Arata somehow getting passed up by J.D. Damon in the year of our Lord 2020, or the fact that Bishop couldn’t take my lunch money if his life depended on it, you’re left with a bunch of objectively good wrestlers and even better dudes who seem to be putting entirely too much stock in taking up a war that nobody ever asked them to fight. Shin-SEKAI, the wacky group of anime villains, is...a thing. Wolvesden is still here and still homicidal. Odyssey seems to have its own gang of goons running around now that Revy, Llorona, Jonetta, and April have linked up. And of course, there’s The Ashes of the Wake, but I’ll circle back around to the Spirit Halloween store employees eventually.

That’s a good chunk of the roster tied up in groups of five or six or more because they’re all convinced that it’s the only way that they can survive. For lesser competitors, that might be true. If you don’t really believe that you can swim in the deep end of the pool, yeah, maybe you need the security blanket that comes with having a whole entourage on either side of you. It’s not a problem that either myself or Stephanie seems to have at the moment. We haven’t had any trouble conquering everything in front of us knowing that there’s only one other person on this entire roster that we can count on. Between the two of us, we’ve got more belts than any of those other faction lineups combined. They prioritize quantity, and we focus on quality. You can load your lineup with foot soldiers and crash test dummies to even the odds during brawls at ringside, but they’re not good for much else. We don’t do average or passable. We’re not content with simply existing, and we sure as fuck don’t need a handful of fuckboys watching our backs to get the job done here. Dominance is all that the Queens of Wrestling know, and that point will be driven home this week when we dispatch of two such filler bodies.

Maverick, I want you to answer one simple question for me -- what purpose do you serve here? In this match, you very well could just be the fall guy, so that’s not what I’m referring to. I’m not asking what purpose you serve in the Ashes either, since it’s already apparent that Havoc just surrounds himself with mindless drones who cause chaos whenever he demands it. I mean why are you here, in OWA? Why are you so content wallowing in mediocrity and proving yourself time and again to be the guy who almost puts all the pieces together? You came into this company with a lot of self-manufactured hype, as if whatever clout you’d gained and whatever damage you’d done elsewhere was supposed to magically help you climb the ladder here. But as you managed to prove when you blew back-to-back title opportunities against myself and Arata, you’re a master of blowing smoke up everyone’s asses -- including your own, if you think this is about to the night when your fortunes suddenly improve.

In all the times that I’ve had to listen to you run your mouth, I’ve been left to wonder...are you really trying to convince your opponents that you stand a chance in hell, or are you trying to convince yourself? You’ve wasted so much time trying to manifest success for yourself that I’m not even sure you know the answer anymore. When I appraise what Stephanie and I are dealing with coming into this championship defense, I can’t honestly say that you’re a different man than the one whose teeth I kicked down his throat when he tried to grab at my Outlaw Championship. So many months have passed. You’ve picked more fights you were destined to lose, as evidenced by the fact that Kenny put you in the dirt. You’ve bought into the lies told to you by Abholos -- that you are somehow destined to be the one on the throne, when all’s said and done -- and yet any changes that have taken place have been purely cosmetic.

For lack of a better way of putting it, nothing you’ve endured since we last met and no part of this failed overhaul has prepared you for the challenge that Stephanie and I present.

And just as it never made you better than me, none of it has made you better than us.

Your spooky fraternity is a family in name only. You, Abholos, that thumb-faced bitch Jada, and the other residents of the Island of Misfit Toys stick your neck out and break your bodies all the time...for what? To protect Havoc and his destiny? To push him to the top faster? Now, he’s sitting here with the OWA World Championship, and what do you or any of your friends have to show for all of it? The participation trophy that comes with merely being in the orbit of a world champion? That’s the trap that so many of these weak-minded, stable-dependant fools have fallen into as of late, and you’re no different. This isn’t Guardians of the Galaxy. The power of friendship isn’t enough to save the day. It’s cool and everything, and I’d know, since my best friend and I happen to win a lot, but we’re the exception and the rest of you are the rule. With only two of us, the spoils of war are always split 50/50. You’ve been taking up Havoc’s cause for so long that I’m not even sure you remember what it’s like to wanna win anything for yourself, and that’s not a weakness you can afford to have coming into this match. A taste of gold would go so far toward legitimizing your “always the bridesmaid, never the bride” ass, but maybe the truth is that the closest you’ll get to a title is glaring at the one on your boss man’s shoulder. Apparently, that point wasn’t driven home when I kicked your teeth down your throat or when Arata humbled you.

This championship shit ain’t for you.

Not in OWA, anyway. Yeah, I know, you’ve been other places and done other shit. You’ve done downright fucked up stuff to people in companies I’ve never heard of, and the end result was that you were able to call yourself the top dog of a far-off land. Good for you. Take comfort in the weight that your name holds in landscapes far away from the land of Omega. Around here, your ceiling is punching above your weight class and making empty championship promises that you can’t keep. Once upon a time, a foolish prince was put in his place by one Queen. Now that he’s chosen to circle back around, he can be sent to CTE City by two of them.

Maverick might be great at talking himself up, but you, Abholos? You love the smoke and mirrors of a more...literal variety.

Your little party tricks are cute, and I unfortunately have my fair share of experience with them. I still haven’t forgotten that you inserted yourself in my business back at Golden Wind. Losing to Kai Stevens wouldn’t have ever been the issue, but those cameos from you and Stark? Who the fuck asked either of you niggas to show up? My first instinct is to say something along the lines of “those who can’t have for themselves take from others”, but I know that doesn’t apply to you. I know that you don’t care about the things that a lot of us place value in. You don’t care about money, fame, or even the love of the sport. You’re here to warp and torment, and anything that falls into your lap along the way is just a bonus.

And therein lies the problem, because these World Tag Team Championships, these belts that Stephanie and I risked life and limb to win at Game Over are not consolation prizes. They’re not just something that you get to walk away with and immediately put in the back of your mind, because they don’t fall in line with your plans of wreaking havoc. It doesn’t sit well with me that you’re about to fight for something you don’t really want. These championships that my partner and I proudly hold would mean nothing to you and even less to your benefactor. In a reality where you and Maverick actually managed to become tag team champions, these titles would serve as nothing more than a bargaining chip for Havoc. Something he could point at to bolster his argument that the Ashes stand atop this trash heap of stables running rampant in this company. As things stand now, we’ve just got a devious world champion and a bunch of titleless cronies protecting him from anyone who might hope to come calling.

That’s how things will stay.

You don’t wanna be a champion, Abholos. You don’t hear that voice in the back of your head telling you to chase gold-plated proof that you’re the best. That’s what you need to beat Stephanie and I. You’ve encountered us separately, but you’re about to find out firsthand how much stronger we are together -- and I hope you’re coming with something harder than the Criss Angel shit that you threw at us at the gym. You don’t get to where we’ve gotten without being able to withstand a little psychological warfare, you know? If you wanted to use your “powers” to send us a message ahead of this match, we got it loud and clear.

You know your only hope of giving you and Maverick an advantage over us is to hope your mind games will work, and so you fell back on what you know best. I’ll give credit where it’s due, the Children of the Corn were a nice touch, but it won’t count for much if we kick you into a coma before you can pull any magical stunts. The theater of the mind is where you feel most at home, but the main event clashes with belts on the line? Nobody commands a home field advantage in situations like that quite like Stephanie and I. What’s funny is that your grandest, most spectacular illusion hasn’t even been unveiled yet. Nah. The greatest lie that you’ve ever told was the one where you tried to make it seem like you and Maverick could outdo us when it mattered the most. Poor you.

Optical illusions and a colossal ego are crutches used by the weak to make them believe that this is a fair fight. Maverick, bring your lofty promises of how this will finally be the time you live up to all your potential. Abholos, warm up your finest Houdini routine. Bring all your friends, too. We’re not picky. The Queens of Wrestling have a job to do and a defense to tick off our list -- and you two bit players will ultimately be nothing more than a pile of Ashes sitting at the feet of our thrones.

Long live the Queens, and long may we reign.

Mav., The Banshee, Elijah Hampton and Noah Reigner have spoken. It’s such good shit!

Re: OWA Promos October 24th 2020, 4:51 pm by **DE'MARION.**

Times are changing on Odyssey.

Since GameOver weekend, moves had been made for there to be an obvious shift in the order of the pink brand. There’s been a rumbling in the foundation of the home of women’s wrestling! Two weeks ago a much needed correcting of our brand’s hierarchy started to take effect and at the head of all of this change is me…..and three other bitches, but the hand that’s cranking the gears might as well be this gal here. I’ve called for this for quite some time. I’ve begged for it! I’ve promised it! I’ve been setting it in motion since the day I stepped foot into an OWA ring!

I entered this industry to do what I always do: mark my territory and establish myself as the baddest there is! I came here to brawl with the best and be crowned as the undisputed leading woman, but there’s been a glaring flaw in the culture of Odyssey working against me. I was confused when I surveyed the scene here and realized it was the exact opposite of the underground I’d been climbing the ladders in months before. The way I see it, this twisted game of wrestling is supposed to be no different than navigating the streets. It’s a no holds barred competition! It’s a fight for survival! No room for softness or vulnerability! However, that memo must have gotten thrown in the trash when it got sent to Saturday nights! There’s too many women in the locker room, women who have driven me up the wall from the beginning, that just don’t get what pro wrestling really is and are ruining the sport by going against the way things are supposed to be done. People are getting shit twisted and treating pro wrestling as some dainty little artform full of respect and friendship. This ain't a good natured collaborative effort between pals, this isn’t some charity case where we let weaklings get props and participation trophies, or where you’ve got to big up your opponents, shaking hands and kissing ass like you ain’t trying to stop them from taking food off your table!

Wrestling on Odyssey has become this insulated safe space where cornball girl scouts thrive and the Alphas the powers that be choose to support are always two to three pegs below their peers. Look over the title history, look at our current champions, and you’ll see a set of girls who lack the proper edge to justify being at the head of the totem pole! The true fighters, the true HUSTLERS in the federation, don’t get rewarded. Pretty faced, marketable, easy to keep in line DulceTorres gets all the breaks. Two years worth of failures, winning by the skin of her teeth, popularity through sympathy, Diantha Rosso is accepted as an OWA World Champion! At GameOver we saw both of those two overrated, undeserving poster women take up the spot of our Odyssey main event, and rather than fight like they wanted to kill each other, like they would do anything to become World Champion, we saw these two add yet another chapter to their fairy tale story of love and admiration for one another. They had a great, “honorable”, media pleasing bout that sent the fans home happy and allowed them to give each other a pat on the back. Meanwhile I was stuck in the middle of the card, showing the viewers at home what a REAL battle in that ring is all about! I beat the living hell out of Natalie Cage, busted her mouth up, smashed her head into the canvas; I did what I needed to do to make a statement and when it was all said and done I left her lifeless body in the ring like the trash that she is. I didn’t need to give her her due, I didn’t need to show her respect! Why? Because I’m not trying to acknowledge her in the same league as me! I had to let the world know I surpassed her, that I surpassed everyone around here! I’m the best woman Odyssey could ask for, and if the culture of Odyssey won’t let me move up organically, I’m going to do what I always do, take what I want by force!

As much as Jonetta Stone is a sheisty bitch and I trust her about as far as I can throw her, if the fat is going to be cut from Odyssey, she’s a person who is going to help in cutting it down. I recognize that at this point she’s one of the last few girls here who actually embody the type of drive, and the type of hustle, that I’m talking about. Jonetta Stone is grimy, can get down and dirty with the best of us, and probably doesn’t have a single real friend on this planet because she can’t picture a scenario where she’d put anyone but herself first…..And that’s why she’s more fit to be on this show than 99% of the roster. She gets “It”. She knows what she needs to do to succeed. I don’t agree with every tactic she employs - you can bet your ass I owe her a receipt for Boiling Point - but at the end of the day, she pulls out every trick in the book because she knows this isn’t an industry where you get by being buddy-buddy or keeping things clean. She doesn’t leave herself open, she doesn’t show vulnerability, she presents herself as a top dog 24/7 and she’ll tear you to pieces if the time calls for it. I could accept her being in the main event much more than a Dulce or a Diantha, and I certainly think she belongs on the roster more than our opponents, Azurine Vebbins and Devi Krysis.

Another example of the flaws in Odyssey’s system! This team of walking participation trophies! What have either of these two done to EVER justify their place on this brand? They lose more matches than they win, and the matches they do win are just fluke roll ups or straight up layups! Yet somehow, Azurine Vebbins has had an Openweight Championship Match, and Devi Krysis had an OWA World Championship match which people were actually willing to say she was going to win! These two were able to obtain title shots quicker than I ever did, and they’ve garnered more corporate backing and promotion than I have received in the year I’ve been here! Devi and Azurine are booked CONSTANTLY. You can’t watch an episode without seeing one of them on the card, but I can go episodes between matches! The fans clamor, chanting “AZURINE! AZURINE!” and campaign on Twitter with that “Team Devi” bullshit in world title matches, but can’t show me even an iota of praise when it’s time to have a conversation about people to watch on the brand? Fuck it, I’m mad. I’m FURIOUS. I don’t even care if Viola is trying to satiate me, feeding these bums to the wolves to get us to calm down, even when I’m done with this I’m not going to stop. We’re still causing chaos. We’re still creating controversy. And we’re still going to run this old guard and their values out of here.

Despite being rookies, Devi and Azurine benefit from Odyssey’s traditions. They are big deals because of their crowd reactions more than their actual talents. They make people laugh! They give people “memes.” But being likable doesn’t mean shit when it’s time to actually WORK. Them fans can’t reach out and save you from an ass beating! Their shortcomings have been shown through their lackluster performances time after time, and it will be the same this week. Actually, no, correction. It WON’T be the same. Devi and Azzy flopping is a common occurrence. Devi and Azurine getting murdered in that ring, put in the ICU, that’ll be a one and only moment. The time for friendship is done. The time for respect is done. The time for tolerating inferior little GRUNTS at the boss’ table is DONE. The time for mutiny is here….the time for a new inner circle on Odyssey is upon us.

These hands are the hands of a killer, they’ve caused the end to many men and many women. They haven’t held too many titles, but they’ve held the heads of opposition far greater than anyone I’m fighting against currently. It took getting a few extra bodies by my side, but the hands of a don now have the current landscape of Odyssey by the throat….and every last bit of worthless life is going to be squeezed right out of its body. No niceties. No patience. No chance for the weak to get past us.

Aria Jaxon, Jeff X and The Banshee have spoken. It’s such good shit!

Re: OWA Promos October 24th 2020, 2:34 pm by **Mark Michaels**

Better than Vedder, or how fake news equals real pain. (Olympus #2)

( The scene opens inside a small sound stage. There is little in the room save for an old, dusty and barely standing used computer desk which looks like it had been plucked right off someone’s front lawn, and a green screen mat hanging which a piece of paper with the words “VNN” in black marker has been taped to. The sound of footsteps against the concrete floor grows louder as Mark Michaels steps into the scene wearing his leather jacket over the new “Get Awoken or Get Broken” T-shirt.)

Michales:” Hello?! Anyone home? No security, no crew people, not even some jerk ass intern to fetch me a latte. What am I saying? Chase is such an irritating jackass that no human alive could stand to be in his company for more than ten minutes, which would explain why has to interview himself. And for all his talk about about having money, he sure as hell acts like a cheep bastard. I mean I had better production value when I was doing that shout-out show nonsense a few years ago back. If This man puts as much effort into his promo packages as he does in the ring, then I hope Nas won’t be surprised when Chase fumble fucks around for three months before getting another pink slip to add to the collection.
Now I know some of you are out there thinking I’m coming down to harsh on a man who is, was, and always will be a joke in wrestling. And not even a typical joke where you
laugh and move on, no the kind of joke where it’s so godawful you should feel bad for laughing, but you don’t because you can’t help but laugh at something that terrible. I know you may think I am being a bit too harsh against Chase, but really all I’m doing is letting the world know that his abysmal ass has no place in OWA. We have enough roster spots being wasted around here, we don’t need Chase Vedder taking away a spot that could Go to someone who might actually stand a chance of not just advancing in this tournament, but going all the way winning this hybrid title.
Allow me to elaborate a bit more on what I mean in that last sentence. You see I was watching the World Series just the other night and I heard Joe Buck talk about what in baseball is called a five tool player. A guy who can field, who can run, who can throw, who can hit, and has the power to send that ball out of the out of the park. To sum up a guy who can do it all. Now when they said that they had this new Hybrid championship, and that it would have its own special rule set, I think that you need to be a five tool player here in OWA to be worthy of this new title. How appropriate they would call it the Hybrid Championship, because the first man who is going to hold that title is gonna have to be the man who can and will do it all in that ring. Ladies and Gentlemen take a good long look, because I am that five tool player, I am that all around athlete who can adapt to whatever you throw at him in the ring, I AM your OWA Hybrid Champion in waiting. And really OWA is quite fortunate to have me ready, willing, and most obviously able to not only be the man who is gonna set the standard for what will become one of the most prestigious championships in all of wrestling when my reign begins, but they are lucky that I am around to keep it out of the hands of career failures like Chase Vedder.

You know we’ve all heard what Chase had to say nearly a week ago. I’ve heard Chase babble on and on about how he’s gonna kick my ass, and how he’s gonna win without even breaking a sweat, and yada yada yada he’s a total dick. What I haven’t heard fall from his mouth along with the rest of his verbal diarrhea, is one single reason as to why or how he intends to accomplish this. Sure I lost my fair share of matches, but those were against the absolute best that Olympus had to offer, guys in whom there was no shame in losing to. And what’s more in those losses I kore than held my own, I kicked ass and took names, and I came inches away from pulling out a win. Now l heard Chase talk all about how he’s his own biggest fan, and as such he thinks himself to be the greatest man to ever lace up a pair of boots, even though I could find fuck all for evidence of that idea, so why he thinks just that is beyond me. Now I get that you want to have confidence in yourself, that’s fine and dandy. But you what trumps confidence? Credibility. Being able in some way to back up whatever you say. Chase has zero in terms Of credibility, so the only threat he posses is... I was gonna make a joke about all his nonstop chatter producing C02 and green house gasses but he is so pathetic he even failed at being a loudmouth. I Figured he would have piped up again by now, but should I be surprised that he acted like the gutless chicken shit I called him out on being? I mean I probably shouldn’t be, because if you stack myself and Chase side by side I know you can’t say he’s stronger than me. He sure as hell isn’t on my level in terms of being a ring General, or a technical wizard inside the squared circle. Hell I bet he wouldn’t know a wristband from a wrist lock if you actually quizzed him about it. He doesn’t have the heart to stand and fight like I do when the whole world is against me, and I was bleeding so much that I can hardly see what’s right under my nose. If you want to argue about speed, well when we have a foot race around the arena I’ll be happy beat you there too. Not to mention that while I am apart of one of the most dominant stables in recent memory, one that has been on an absolute tear through anyone and everyone who has come our way, chase finds himself clinging to the feet a man who’s best days are long behind him, the way toilet paper clings to the bottom of a shoe. I myself, alongside the rest of my brothers in the Awakening, we have everything you look for in a pro wrestler. We each have the physical stats you want to see, we all have in ring skills that are top shelf quality, and we all possess the drive and more importantly the mindset needed to achieve the biggest victories, like for instance squashing who the fuck is gonna be unlucky enough to make it to the finals to face me. The only thing Chase has, the only thing he has ever had was the ability to shoot his mouth off and even that ability has seemingly dried up in his looong absence from professional wrestling. Or at the very least he’s fallen out of practice, because his verbal barbs lack any bite. I know Vedder the was hoping that I was nothing more than some rookie or career curtain jerker he could psych out before that bell rung, but really everything he’s utters has fallen so flat doesn’t do a damn thing but mildly annoy me like when a fly buzzes right past your ear. What else could I say about this fucking dweeb who needs to stand next to someone like myself or Nas to get any kind of attention? What else could I possibly say about a man who I’ve made more relevant in this past week than he’s ever been in any of his runs in any wrestling company? How bout this, let’s say pigs fly, hell freezes over, and every other cliche synonym for impossible comes to pass, And hypothetically someway Chase manages to just eek by me this week. is he the kind of man you want possibly becoming the First OWA Hybrid Champion? A man who could do nothing aside from run his mouth with stopping to even draw a breath? That man who who has already proved exactly how much of punk ass bitch he is the second time he walked out the door. The guy who’s only here to act as a flutter for Nas. The man who prides himself on being a bully, till He met me, because I not only shut his dumb ass up, and showed him up at his own game. Is that the guy who should really set the standard for this new title? If Chase wins this tournament we may as well save ourselves the time and just go ahead burn all the money that Would have gone towards having that new belt made. Talk is cheep Chase, but somehow you’re such a poor competitor that you can’t afford to say another word.

Ow as far as Nobi, Ironico, and whomever else it may concern in regards to this Hybrid Title tournament, I want you all to be paying close attention this week. What Chase is gonna get is just the appetizers to what I got in store for each and every one of you who moves along in the brackets. And Chase When I get my hands on you, I’m gonna do you, Nas, and rest of the wrestling world a favor and put you out to pasture right quick before you continue to make a fool of yourself. So chase consider this a preview of what’s coming on Olympus, where your little comeback tour is gonna go up in flames.”

( Michaels momentarily steps out of the shot, when he returns he does so carrying an a aluminum trash can in one hand and a can of gasoline in the other. Mark sets both items down before flipping the desk in one strong, violent motion, splitting the desk on impact. Without a moment of hesitation passing after, Mark reaches up and tears the green screen off the lone piece of pvc pipe that it was draped over. Michaels combs through the bundled up cloth to fish out the piece of paper that was previously taped to it. Michaels inhales deep through his nostrils before hocking a loogie dead center of the page. Michaels crumples the paper into a ball and along with the mat dumps it into the trash can, and proceeds to douse both items with the gasoline. After the last drop falls into the trash can Michaels strike a match. Moments later the “set” of the VNN show is ablaze and quickly turning to ash.)

"Empty."

Baker paces back and forth in front of the camera, waving an unlit cigarette in his hand as he speaks.

"That's all I've gotten from all of this, Derelict, empty. Your trophy case, empty, as some wannabe-something-manchild roams the countryside with your belt, and you've got nothing. Your soul, empty, as you seem to have rejected your humanity in place of something greater, some grand delusion that you are something, a greater beast than the whole machine, when in reality, you're really just another cog. Your skull, empty, because you clearly seem to believe that because you've never heard of me, that because of your bravado, that the looming threat of Graham Baker isn't enough to dust you and put you in the fucking dirt. You suck air in and scream at the top of your lungs, 'I am OWA!', Alpha, Omega, whatever the fuck you think you are, it just shows me how dumb you really are."

A pause. Baker considers lighting his cigarette. He doesn't.

"The world you inhabit, Derelict, it can't be sealed up in just a little box. You can't take all the outside threats that look through your windows, looming ominously, rapping fingers against the walls around you, and just pretend that they don't exist. You can't simply snap your fingers and, poof, all the bad men go away. You can throw them out of mind as long as you can, spew lies and words and promises to yourself that they might not be as bad as you’d think-but no matter what you spit, it won’t save you.

Not from me.

You’ve run along this same train of thought this whole conflict, walked the same set of tracks. ‘Graham Baker isn’t shit’, you say. ‘Graham Baker may’ve beaten Darkane, but no one cares about that. No one cares about SSW. Everyone cares about OWA, and that’s where I’m champ.’

And it’s true, to an extent. You are OWA-or you should be, with that belt on your shoulder, with that reputation on on your face, with the notches on your belt.

But you ain’t OWA much anymore, are you?

Who’s been stealing your spots, Derelict? Fiora? Stark? Me? No one gives a fuck about you, because the minute you let that strap of gold and leather fall from your hands, you showed this company that you weren’t the body of it all. You weren’t OWA, not anymore, because you let OWA down. You weren’t OWA, because you showed that you weren’t impenetrable-that the company wasn’t impenetrable. You are no hero, no standard-bearer, because you’re a fucking rabid dog frothing at the mouth and chattering your teeth, thinking that you are something.

But in reality?

You’re empty.”

Baker’s feet scrape against the concrete. He sighs.

“I tried to show you mercy, Derelict. Tried to show you that you were on a bad path, coming toe to toe with me, but if you refuse to believe it, then what the fuck can I do? What can I tell you? That I’m going to leave you dead? I’ve mentioned that, and you’ve pushed it off. You’ve told me I don’t matter. Told me that you don’t give a shit about me. Told me that you don’t care who I beat half-to-death in SSW. That I’m going to take your belt? You told me you didn’t give a shit about that-that the belt didn’t mean as much, that Fiora’s already dead and I’m just a roadblock in the way, that you are OWA with or without that belt. That I’m going to send you mercy, that i’m going to give you a way out? You told me that no matter what I promised, I would be the one looking for a way out. Bottom of a bottle, right?

I’ve tried to play nice, or rather, as nice as I can.

Now you’re not really giving me a choice.”

Baker runs a hand through his hair, and he leans back against the wall. He glances into the camera.

“The truth of the matter? I’m sure you’re a legendary competitor in some fields, a guy who’s going to bring the fight to me and nearly cave my skull in, give me the beating of a lifetime and send me packing, so to speak, if you really think that’s what it’ll be. I’m sure you’re going to bring me a fight, moreso than I was ever before, because you have brought that fight in words-and I can only imagine I’ve pissed you off enough to back it up in the ring. I can only imagine I’ve frustrated you, a cockroach hissing at the boots of a king, but we both know this is more than that. Despite your downplaying, I am more than that.

Because outside of SSW, outside of Darkane, outside of all the globetrotting I’ve done, I’m the man who stepped into this company and stepped up to you, put my face in your face, eyes to eyes, and begged you to flinch so I could knock you the fuck out. It bothers you, right? Big dog on campus, struggling with Fiora, and now you’ve gotta deal with me. You wanna make me an example? You wanna send a message? You want to tell this company that you don’t fuck around?

Truly, with the short-sightedness you’ve had, you’re gonna fuck this up.

This is your kingdom, Derelict. This is the foundation upon which you’ve set your stones, the land upon which you’ve buried your boots and called home. But this land isn’t yours, Derelict, this land belongs to the strong. This land belongs to those who would do anything to defend it, no cost too steep, no pain too great to bear, this is something you cannot stand to do, Derelict.

You wither under pressure, Derelict. You bend to near-breaking. Since I’ve been here, I’ve watched you falter, watched Fiora embarrass you after Game Over, watched you and Arata fail to secure a win, watched you have Abzu run your mouth only to claim that the man didn’t speak for you. And now, you compare me to an experience years ago-say I’m mocking you, say I’m mocking your land, and that I’m going to embarrass myself.

You act like a wild-man, say I don’t know what you’re gonna do because you don’t know what you’re doing until you do it.

You call it unpredictability.

I call it lack of planning.

Because I don’t care what you think you’re gonna glean out of giving me no plan, out of setting yourself up as this mysterious monster who’s gonna grab my throat and crush my trachea, press my eyes back into my fucking skull. I don’t care who you think you’re impressing with the intimation that I’ve never faced anyone like you, as if you’re so different from the big cast of shady motherfuckers who I’ve dealt with between every set of four ropes from here to Japan. You don’t know what you’re gonna do? Then you best hope for a knockout, motherfucker, because the minute you slip up, I’m going to grab whatever extension I can find-arm, leg, skull-and I’m going to turn them into dust. I’ll leave you hobbling on broken shins, leave you swinging shattered elbows, leave shards of your skull digging into your brain as you try to keep a failing machine going, before I send you into the fucking grave.

Grim reality, I know.

But what you and I both know is that you’re understating me, anticipating that I’m gonna be like the ‘karate man’ of old, anticipating that I’m going to be the guy who falters because he’s thinking this is going to be an easy win. I don’t think this’ll be easy, Derelict-I never said it would. I said I hoped you would bring the fight, again and again, and it seems like you want to. It seems like you want to go down swinging. Who am I to deny you that privilege? Who am I to not grant your last rites, your final will and testament that you want to have a hero’s death, the only honorable thing that a man like you, who’s travelled from street to street-car to state-home can ever truly do in life?

If you want honor, you’ll get honor by virtue of the blade coming swinging for your throat, the gasps of the crowd at your last moments as I lop your head clean fucking off.”

Baker gets closer to the camera.

“As much as you’ve understated me, the lack of respect I’ve paid you, I’m looking forward to this. I’m looking forward to trading blows with you, breaking bones, shattering skulls, bleeding red and brown all over this fucking canvas with you. You’re the stopgap, Derelict, the first challenge set upon my path to dominance in OWA, the cancer that has become so entombed in the guts of this company that, in a way, you’re right-you are OWA.

But OWA is sick with men like you.

And if I need to kill the whole machine to tear you out and cast you into the fucking darkness, then I will.”

Baker leans into the camera closer. We see his eyes, not frantic, not manic-but full of flame.

“At the end of the night, Derelict, one of us will stand in that ring. One of us will raise the OWA Heavyweight Championship to the heavens. One of us will find victory, and it may not be me, but it’s going to take more than it’s taken you with anyone else to keep me the fuck down. You better come ready to kill, come ready to flay me like a fucking Saint, because no matter what you hit me with I’ll keep coming.

I’ll keep pulling you apart, piece by fucking piece, until there’s little left.

I’ll shuck you out and dump your innards to the street before I hold your belt high.

Because if you can’t beat me, Derelict? If you can’t somehow manage to score that knockout, choke the air from my lungs, stop my fucking heart from beating? If you can’t keep me down not just for the three, but long enough to keep me from coming after you like a fucking revenant?

I’ll follow you for the rest of your days until I leave you empty.”

Baker leans back. He pulls a cigarette from his jacket pocket.

He lights it.

Fade to black.

Aria Jaxon and Noah Reigner have spoken. It’s such good shit!

Re: OWA Promos October 23rd 2020, 11:38 pm by **DarkCircle**

{Scene Start: We see Ryo sitting in his hotel room, looking out at the Philly skyline, obviously deep in thought as the clouds move by the sun filled windows on this late October day}

“I must admit that when I was helping Jacob prepare for a match against Graham Baker, I thought to myself that I had never seen a man so arrogantly full of himself that when he comes into a promotion, he instantly must challenge for the world title and to hell with all other things.”

“I thought that no other man could ever be more arrogant.”

{Ryo turns his head to look at the camera}

“That was, of course, before you opened your mouth and proved me oh so wrong, Damon.”

“Because from start to finish, your entire promo was one long arrogant tirade of ignorance. Of the things that I accused Arata of being and much worse, to which after seeing that pathetically weak excuse of a mega macho backslap for yourself, I called up Arata and offered my most sincere apologies.”

“That’s right Damon, Your stupidity helped to heal the minor rift between myself and Arata, congratulations.”

“I mean seriously did you even listen to yourself during the course of that promo, you basically were doing every single thing that you accused Arata himself of doing in the days leading up to your match with him over that title, there is a word for people like that, Damon.”

“Hypocrite.”

“Or in your case, hypocritical bastard.”

{Ryo takes a moment to chuckle before shaking his head and face the camera properly}

“There is no cork popping from a bottle of champagne, Damon, for when I celebrate it’s going to be with a nice big bottle of orange juice because once I beat you, and yes I will do exactly *THAT* at Atlantis, then I will turn right the back around with my new championship and start preparing for whatever match that Oasis and the others in the front office will have next for me because I’m not oe for resting on my fucking lureals like you seemingly have been doing.”

“Oh, and the only way that you’ll get me put any respect on your fucking name in any state or fashion will be the day that His Holiness turns out to be a giant fucking space spider, you weak little pedantic twat!”

“Oh you can call yourself whatever the hell you want to, Daymon. From “Monster” to “Savior”, fuck...you can even call yourself the bloody QUEEN OF ENGLAND. But the point of the matter is still going to be the same the moment that your arrogance will flair up and you know that it will...that one singular instance where you think that you’ve got me down and beaten, that’s when you’ll suddenly be hearing the roar of the crowds, which be quieter next to the roar of the cannon as it takes your damned head off of your shoulders.”

“Yes, I will admit that Arata did get a little bit full of himself while he was the Spartan champion, but he never let it become a freaking chamber pot like it is when you are seen with that belt, Damon. And that simply will not do.”

“Now you asked me what makes me think that this match will go my way and the answer is simple, I have nothing to lose.”

“Nothing at all.”

“If I lose this match, then I will simply bust my ass till I get right back up the rankings to be right there in your fucking face again and again and again, to which we will be doiniog this match again and again and again unti finally you realize that this is now your reality, mate. A never ending motion picture show of my foot taking off your head from your shoulders.”

“Cut, Wrap, Print. It’s just that simple.”

“And before you delude yourself like White Lotus in all of the classic Shaw Brothers films, Damon, in that stupid belief that you’ll make quick work of me, I want you to go back and rewatch that first match that I had with Arata. I want you to arrogantly believe like he did that I’d be an easy mark.”

“I want you to count how many times I tanked his best strikes, absorbed his hardest hits, and out wrestled him purely on skill alone...and then compare it to your own weak ass shit and tell me again how “fast” you’re going to beat me.”

{Ryo’s face becomes very hard at this moment}

“Oh and don’t think for a second that I’m not taking you seriously at all, because that’s another pile of weapons grade horse shit there as well. No, I’ve borrowed all of Jake’s collection of DVDs and re-watched some of your so-called “greatest” matches of your past, watched some of your recent works as well, and I noticed that you do the same tired song and dance routine each and every time.”

“Also on the little matter about you taking my use of the old adage “Your arms are too short to box with God” and running with it like an over-sexed frat boy at a panty raid, it’s nice to know that you have a healthy ego and everything, but Donald Trump called and asked you to throttle it back a little bit, you’re tossing too much bullshit up into the atmosphere and he’s afraid that will prevent him from another term, buddy boy.”

{Ryo shakes his head sadly}

“Knowing your track record with you thus far, you’ll no doubt believe that I’m comparing you to that criminal and accuse me of calling you the new president or something like that, won’t you?”

{Ryo stops shaking his head and looks hard into the camera

“I’m walking into the OWA Arena’s main event of Atlantis with one plan in mind, taking the Omega Wrestling Alliance’s Spartan championship for my own and undo the damage that you’ve done just by touching the damned thing...or having failed to do that, do what do best in that ring and simply kicking your damned fool head off of your shoulders.”

“You are nothing more than some bitter old fuck who is looking to recapture some of his past glory by claiming a title that you have no real interest in and using it to keep your spot, to stay relevant in this day and age, while doing nothing to help this promotion out at al, and at Atlantis I’m going to be the one who ends your little so called “reign” before it goes any further.”

“Why?”

“Because in the end, I’m going to be feeding the omega wolf to his pack...with that Omega being you, Damon.”

“So shine that belt of mine up real nice and perfect, because in a few short hours it’s going to be draped across my glorious shoulders while you squirm like a dying bug on a hot sidewalk, looking up and wondering if it was worth it to drag your worthless carcass out of your lazy-boy and back into *my* ring.”

“So come to Atlantis, Damon, and I will gladly show you why they call me the “Invincible Dragon”.”

{The screen fades to black}

Re: OWA Promos October 23rd 2020, 11:38 pm by **Shea Flaherty**

OOOOOOOH YEEEAHHHHH ARE YOU KIDDING ME I'M ON FIIIIIIIREEEEEE! YYYEEAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH! I FINALLY GET TO BEAT THE EVER LIVING SHIT OUT OF ELIJAH AND I AM ON CLOUD 9. I DON'T GIVE A FUCK WHAT YOU THINK; I DON'T CARE WHAT ANYONE THINKS; I HAVE WAITING SO LONG FOR THIS DAY. AS YOU CAN HEAR FROM MY FUCKING VOICE I AM AMPED UP! THERE WILL BE NO COME DOWN.. NO! NOT UNTIL THE BEATING HAS COME AND ENDED. I AM HEAD BANGING TIL MY NECK BREAKS. I AM TURNING MY MUSIC ALL THE WAY TO FUCKING 1000 AND IM GOING TO MAKE A BIG DEAL OUT OF THIS TO ANYONE LISTENING. NOT ONLY IS THIS MATCH AGAINST THE BIGGEST DOUCHE OF ALL TIME, IT IS FOR A SHOT AT THE OPENWEIGHT CHAMPIONSHIP. NOW EVERYONE KNOWS THAT I FANCY MYSELF A SINGLES WRESTLER FIRST AND FOREMOST, SO THIS IS RIGHT UP MY ALLY. AND I GET TO DO IT AT THE EXPENSE OF SOME DOUCHE THAT HAS BEEN USING MY NAME FOR HIS OWN BENEFIT? IM GOING KICK HIS ASS SO BAD HE'S GOING TO HAVE TO SIT ON A DONUT FOR WEEKS. NOW THAT MIGHT HURT ME IN THE LONG RUN IF AND WHEN WE ARE FORCED TO TEAM UP AGAIN... BUT IM NOT THINKING ABOUT THE FUTURE, I'M THINKING ABOUT WHAT'S IN FRONT OF ME RIGHT NOW. ELIJAH, YOU'RE THE CORNIEST MOTHERFUCKER I HAVE EVER MET IN MY LIFE. WHO THE FUCK WOULD CHOOSE TO BE KNOWN AS JAH? THAT MIGHT BE THE LAMEST THING I HAVE EVER HEARD; AND NO MATTER HOW MUCH YOU WANT TO MAKE IT A THING IT WILL NEVER BE A THING. JAH IS THE FETCH OF WRESTLING, IT SIMPLY JUST WONT HAPPEN. OF COURSE THIS PUSSY ASS NEEDS TO USE WEAPONS TO FACE ME, IT'S BECAUSE HE DOESN'T HAVE TO THE TALENT TO DO IT STRAIGHT UP; BUT YOU KNOW WHAT? I WOULD ACTUALLY PREFER IF THIS MATCH HAD WEAPONS ALLOWED. I WANT TO INFLICT AS MUCH DAMAGE AS HUMANLY POSSIBLE TO THIS MAN. FOR FAR TOO LONG HE HAS MADE A LIVING OFF OF MY NAME. USING MY TALENT AS A WAY TO PROGRESS HIS CAREER, AND I'M SICK OF IT. HIS ARROGANT NATURE, HIS HORRENDOUS PERSONALITY, HIS UNFUNNY JOKES. HE IS THE EPITOME OF A FAKE ASS BITCH. I DO THE DAMAGE, HE COMES IN AND PICKS UP THE PIECES. I'M THROWING CAUTION TO THE WIND, AND I'M KICKING HIS ASS. HE MAY THINK THAT HE'S THE ONE THAT MAKES THIS TAG TEAM RUN, BUT IF HE WERE TO ACTUALLY TAKE REIGNS OF THIS TRAIN WE WOULD RUN RIGHT OFF THE TRACKS. HE'S TOO MUCH UP HIS OWN ASS, IT'S ONE GOES HAND IN HAND WITH ONE OF HIS FAVORITE ACTIVITIES... SHOVING THINGS UP HIS OWN ASS!!!! ELIJAH THERE IS A REASON YOU HAVE SPENT MOST OF YOUR LIFE ALONE YOU ARE UNBARABLE TO BE AROUND. BUT WITH THE WAY YOU THINK, YOU JUST THINK IT'S BECAUSE YOU THINK YOU'RE JUST THAT INTIMIDATING. NO ONE IS INTIMIDATED BY YOU; NO ONE WHO WEARS A TURTLENECK SWEATSHIRT COULD EVER BE MISTAKEN AS INTIMIDATING. ENOUGH OF THE IRRELEVANT REFRENCES THAT NO ONE GETS OR CARES ABOUT; ENOUGH OF THE RANDOM JOKES IN THE SENTENCES THAT DIDN'T BELONG.. YOU'RE DONE FOR! YOU REMIND ME OF THE KID IN HIGH SCHOOL THAT WORMS HIS WAY TO THE POPULAR KIDS TABLE BECAUSE YOU WANT TO BE LIKED SO BAD, BUT IN REALITY NO ONE EVEN REALIZES THAT YOU'RE THERE. BUT SOMEHOW YOU ALWAYS POP UP WHEN THEY HAVE SOCIAL GATHERINGS; EVERYONE ALWAYS ASKS WHO INVITED YOU, HOW YOU ALWAYS KNOW WHEN THEY'RE HANGING OUT, BUT NO ONE EVER KNOWS. BUT I KNOW, IT'S BECAUSE YOU'RE A CREEP THAT JUST LISTENS VERY INTENTLY ON EVERYONES CONVERSATIONS LIKE THE CREEP YOU ARE. WE'VE DONE BATTLE MANY TIMES YOU SON OF A BITCH, AND THIS ISN'T GOING TO BE ANY DIFFERENT. I HAD SOME HOPE THAT ONCE WE GOT TOGETHER AND FORMED THIS TEAM, WE WOULD ACTUALLY START SEEING EYE TO EYE, BUT AT THIS POINT I DON'T KNOW IF THAT COULD EVER BECOME TRUE. YOU'RE TOO ARROGANT, TOO CONCEDED, IN YOUR OWN WORLD NOT EVEN REALIZING THE OPPORTUNITY WE HAVE HERE. FUUUUCCCKKKKK! ANYONE ELSE, THEY COULD'VE GAVE ME ANYONE ELSE, BUT NO! SO NOW WE'RE HERE ONE OF US GETTING AN OPPORTUNITY FOR A TITLE, AND PUTTING ON YET ANOTHER CLASSIC! WHICH I BELIEVE IS THE WHOLE REASON FOR THIS MATCH HAPPENING, A RATINGS BOOST. SO MAYBE WE SHOULD BE SMART ABOUT THIS AND ACTUALLY REALIZE WE'RE JUST A SCIENCE PROJECT... BEING USED FOR THE USE OF OUR BOSSES TO POCKET SOME MONEY... BUT FUCK THAT I'M GOING TO JUST KICK YOUR ASS AND ALL THE THOUGHTS WILL GO AWAY.

YOU SON OF A BITCH, YOU'RE IN A WEAPONS STORE TALKING ABOUT HOW YOU'RE GOING TO USE THEM WHEN THE REFS BACK IS TURNED, AND YOU SAY I CAN TRUST YOU? NEEEVVVVEERRRRRR. BUT I SEE YOU WANT TO BOYCOTT THIS MATCH SO WE DON'T FIGHT... BUT I SAY NO! BECAUSE MAYBE THIS IS WHAT WE NEED ELIJAH, MAYBE US FIGHTING IT OUT IS SOMETHING THAT WILL BE GOOD FOR US. MOST THE TIME PEOPLE GO TO THERAPY TO TALK THEIR PROBLEMS OUT, BUT WITH YOU AND I THERE IS NO TALKING IT OUT AT THIS POINT. SO INSTEAD OF USING OUR WORDS TO EMBRACE OUR FEELINGS WE SHALL USE OUR FISTS, AND NOT IN THE WAY THAT YOU MAY WANT. NO MATTER WHAT YOU'RE GOING TO KEEP TALKING SHIT, AND KEEP TRYING TO STEAL THE SPOTLIGHT FROM ME. SO I'M GOING TO DO WHAT I HAVE TO DO TO YOUR PANSY ASS. I'M GOING TO BEAT YOU UP, AND SHOW EVERYONE THAT YOU JUST TAKE ADVANTAGE OF SITUATIONS, AND THAT IS NOT A TRUE TESTAMENT OF YOUR TALENT! I KNOW YOUR TRICKS, I'VE KNOWN YOU FOR A LONG TIME. YOU CAN SAY ALL THE BULLSHIT THAT YOU WANT TO; I WON'T FALL FOR YOUR BULLSHIT. YOU'RE STILL THE SAME SLITHERING SNAKE THAT YOU'VE ALWAYS BEEN. THIS IS YOUR CHANCE TO BREAK AWAY ISN'T IT? NO, IT'S MINE, AND I'M GOING TO KICK YOUR ASS AND SHOW YOU THAT I'VE ALWAYS BEEN BETTER THAN YOU. YOU CAN HAVE PINNING THE EX SPARTANS CHAMPION, AND YOU CAN HAVE PINNING THE HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPION BECAUSE I KNOW HOW MUCH THAT MEANS TO YOU. I KNOW HOW MUCH YOU THINK THAT MEANS TO EVERYONE ELSE. BUT JUST KNOW WITHOUT ME THOSE THINGS WOULD NOT HAVE HAPPENED. I AM THE LIFE SUPPORT THAT KEEPS YOU AFLOAT WHETHER YOU ACCEPT IT OR NOT. YOU TRYING TO HOLD ME UNDER WILL NOT WORK IN YOUR BENEFIT EVER! IT'S JUST LIKE WE'RE BACK IN ST. LOUIS, AND AS YOU KNOW, I HAVE A WINNING RECORD OVER YOU.. WHETHER THAT WINNING RECORD IS BY 1 OR 300 IT DOESN'T MATTER! I'M GOING TO ADD ANOTHER ONTO THAT RECORD ONCE I'M DONE WITH YOU AFTER THIS WEEK. But uh once this match is over, and we're back to normal; I'd be down to get a beer or something and hash it out. Don't worry I'm not going to hold a grudge or anything; shit there won't be anything to hold a grudge about you know? Seeing that I'm going to be the one that wins. SO BRING YOUR WEAPONS, BRING WHATEVER ADVANTAGE YOU NEED TO DEFEAT ME, IT WON'T MAKE A DIFFERENCE. YOU KNOW WHAT YOU'RE GETTING IN THE RING WITH; AND YOU KNOW THIS ISN'T GOING TO BE A CAKE WALK. I'M GOING TO HEADBANG ALL OVER YOUR FACE! I AM GOING TO SHOW YOU THAT I AM THE STAR OF THIS TEAM, AND YOU'RE RIDING ON MY METAL COATTAILS! AND I WANT YOU TO KNOW THAT WHETHER I WIN OR WHETHER I LOSE, I STILL PLAN ON WINNING THE TAG TEAM TITLES WITH YOU BECAUSE I WANT ALL THE GOLD. AND I WANT TO PROVE THAT I AM CAPABLE OF DEFEATING ALL THE ODDS REGARDLESS IF YOU'RE DRAGGING ME DOWN OR NOT. BLOODSHOT DOESNT GIVE UP SO EASY, BLOODSHOT IS GOING TO BEAT YOU, HE'S GOING TO GO AND WIN THE OPENWEIGHT CHAMPIONSHIP, AND THEN I'M DRAGGING YOUR PANSY ASS ALL THE WAY TO THE TAG TEAM CHAMPIONSHIPS BECAUE THAT'S JUST THE KINDA GUY I AM! BECAUSE BLOODSHOT RULES ASS!!

VaeVictisBD, Aria Jaxon, NikiKhanKTA and Elijah Hampton have spoken. It’s such good shit!

Re: OWA Promos October 23rd 2020, 11:26 pm by **NikiKhanKTA**

INT. DRAKE RESIDENCE, GYM - NIGHT

Midnight. The familiar family gym and training room of the Drake house rests in the shadows cast from a single light in the other room. The sound of a heavy bag being pummeled breaks the stillness of the gym.

NIKI KHAN, dressed in a Wolvesden hoodie and Fairtex shorts, fires off lightning fast combinations. The bag bends and contorts around her bare fists and knees, before finishing up with a spinning back elbow. The thud of the bag and creak of the chain almost scream “we give up.”

NIKI stops and takes a deep breath, before driving her knee into the middle of the bag. She wraps her arms around the bag in a clinch and begins delivering devastating knee strikes.

JOSIE GREY (o/s)

Ms. Khan?

NIKI pays her no mind. Another swift knee strike lands in the middle of the heavy bag, followed by a lightning fast elbow combination. JOSIE GREY steps into the room, carrying a file.

JOSIE GREY

Ms. Khan?

NIKI’S strikes grow faster and stiffer. She pulls her hood up and fires off a hard kick.

Her eyes…

+=_*Q_=\*U=+=E=+\E_/=N_+-O+--_F-=_=//D=-=E+_/A_-_=T_=-//H-=+

A dark room.

When I say I’m a killer, does my voice tremble?

Red neon light fills the room. A meat locker. A woman stands in the middle of the room. Niki Khan. She stands amongst large slabs of meat, swinging slightly from menacing meat hooks. Niki stares into the camera, eyes wide.

I have been on Odyssey for...what? Four months? Less? I’ve had THREE matches...and after only three matches, where do I find myself?

The top.

For the past four months, I have been running ROUGHSHOD through any and all competition thrown in front of me, and my have had my name on the tip of every tongue that matters. After less than a HANDFUL of professional outings in the OWA, I have earned a chance at THE championship in women’s wrestling...at THE VERY TOP of the mountain…The Queen of Wolves has the opportunity to take her RIGHTFUL seat on that silver and jade throne, and become the TRUE Queen of Odyssey...when I win the OWA Women’s World Championship.

Now I understand the pressure that’s on me...I do. I understand that this puts me in a position to carry the brand on my shoulders...but I think we know by now what I’m capable of when carrying an incredibly popular organization on my back. Believe me when I say this, I am no stranger to the world of high stakes VIOLENCE, and I am no stranger to winning championships when I’m not expected to. None of this situation is new to me, including the woman I plan on Assassinating.

In fact...much to her detriment…

I am VERY familiar with her.

Niki’s mouth curves into a sinister smile. She leans forward slightly.

...Hello, poppet…

I’m sure I need...no introduction for you, do I?

Niki cocks her head and raises her eyebrows.

A large platform is suddenly wheeled in front of her. On that platform is a large pigpen, and in that pen is a large pig. Niki reaches out with both hands, where a large butcher's knife and a sharpening rod are placed in her right and left hands, respectively. She begins to sharpen the blade as two people in black hoodies and balaclavas drape a blood stained leather apron across her. One ties the straps behind her neck, the other her waist. The second they’re done, they scurry off.

She never breaks her stare.

Now, for the uninitiated...I will do the work that OWAnetwork.com should be doing, and fill you in a little on our history.

Our little...princess here...used to be one of my underlings.

Diantha Moreau...the Lost Senshi...was a full-blown member of Wolvesden.

Niki smirks

Aww.

Niki drags the knife across her forearm. Blood trickles out. She wipes the blade on her apron and places the rod in the pocket of the apron.

We...broke you...like a horse. You were such a fresh faced little joshi twat, ready to take on all comers, and you couldn’t BUY a win...the name Diantha Moreau was the PUNCHLINE to so many jokes, I began to stop listening.

But we BROKE you...MY guidance, NATALIE’S hand...we BROKE you. And what we rebuilt? Is what the world sees today. The IRON Lioness...the LIONESS of the Heavens…the OWA WOMEN’S WORLD CHAMPION...this absolute MACHINE…

Was built using MY blueprints…

Niki bows slightly.

...You’re welcome.

She stands, glancing down at the pig. She tsks and places the knife in between her teeth, before pulling and tying her hair back into a bun. She grabs the knife by the handle and glances at it.

But the funny part, Ms. Moreau, is how far you’ve drifted from what we’ve created. When you were running with our pack, you were an unstoppable killing machine. You and Natalie were not only revered, but god damn FEARED every time you two stepped into that ring together...YOU were on the fast track to winning that title you hold now, and you would have had the STRONGEST faction in professional wrestling watching your back, and backing your every step.

But instead...you broke away...and you faltered.

Niki shakes her head, her eyes wide and staring deep into the camera. She raises the knife and points it at the lens.

You did so poorly on your own, you had to change your name back to fuckin Diantha ROSSO; the one thing you so desperately wanted to break away from MORE than us, and you had to embrace it just to get even a FRACTION of the fire you had under our roof. It took you YEARS to even get CLOSE to that championship, and when you finally DID, Natalie had already held it for so long, she had grown tired of it. It took you YEARS to find the fire and passion to even get a SHOT, and it has taken ME THREE FUCKING MATCHES...YOU are proof POSITIVE about what happens when people think they are ABOVE Wolvesden! You FALL, WE rise!

Her eyes suddenly turn sullen. She slowly lowers the knife.

Yet...through it all...I still consider you one of us...I will always consider you one of us.

...but there are times, Diantha, when we have to do things we don’t like, to get what we want or need.

And because of our history...because of how much I care for you...this... is one of those times.

Niki kneels down beside the pig and pats it on the head.

...dhanyavaad. tum mere parivaar ko khaana khilaoge. dhanyavaad…

Niki looks up into the camera…

She Drives the knife into the pigs throat…

And sharply drags the blade across.

Within seconds, Niki is covered in blood.

The pig stops moving.

Niki never breaks her stare.

...facing you, Diantha...is a necessary pain I must endure. In order for me to feed my family and keep them happy and healthy? I need to slit your throat and watch as you bleed out. I need to beat, and batter, and maul, and overall slaughter you...so I can become the OWA Women’s World Champion...this is about more than me...this is about JD Damon, who is having a career renaissance...this is about my husband, who is systematically picking apart the bullshit Ashes, piece by blood soaked piece...this is about taking part in the NEXT CHAPTER of the GREATEST FACTION in wrestling history and cementing OUR legacy, and I will be DAMNED if I let this slip through my fingers.

Blood spurts from the pig filling the air with a sinister red mist. Niki slowly stands and sighs. She closes her eyes for a moment and whispers something to herself, before holding the knife out to her side. In an instant, it is taken and replaced by a cleaver. Niki pulls the sharpening rod out of the pocket and begins to sharpen the blade as blood pools around her.

You might be thinking you have this match in the bag...you might be saying “well, shit, Niki...I’ve faced this twat, and this twat, and Natalie and Dulce and Azumi and everyone in between…and dammit, EVENTUALLY, I’ve beaten them all...”

But I will tell you now, and I know you know this…

She looks up at the camera, her face covered from the spurting blood.

You have never...EVER...been in the ring with ANYBODY as dangerous as me…

All those little girls you’ve beaten? They were tough. Your battles with Dulce are personal favorites...and Azumi pushed you to your absolute limits, which resulted in some absolute classics… but in the end, they weren’t warriors...Natalie excluded. They weren’t SURVIVORS. They weren’t women who had been through absolute HELL just to get through the day…

They weren’t ME.

While those little girls prided themselves on getting through fuckin WRESTLING school, I was reared on elbows as sharp as knives...KICKS that felt like a crocodile WHIPPING its Goddamn TAIL...I was spilling blood and breaking bones against the worlds most DANGEROUS FIGHTERS, and I was making them look like God damn CHILDREN. I took my beatings, and I broke my bones, and I lost my blood, but I ENDURED...I fought through broken ARMS, cracked RIBS, shattered SHINS and bruised sternums, and at the end of it all, I emerged as THE ABSOLUTE BEST, and I walked out of those battles as CHAMPION…Because I fucking HAD to.

And right now, Diantha?

Winning that world title?

I fucking have to.

And you are not strong enough to stop me.

Entering the ring with a focused Niki Khan? It's like entering a slaughterhouse…

And I am LASER focused on NOTHING...but you.

That championship...after only three matches...is MINE…because it is with that championship that I can provide a better future for not only my family, not only Odyssey...but wrestling in general…with that title, I will usher in a new era of this brand…

Niki kneels down beside the now dead pig. She runs the cleaver across its belly before driving it in and slicing. She gently hacks away at the innards of the pig...

She never breaks her stare.

The ends justify the means...the result, justifies the sacrifice...

She suddenly stops and swings the cleaver into the pigs side, leaving it in the carcass. With both hands, she pulls out a large chunk of meat.

...the feed...justifies the slaughter.

She slowly stands, pulling the cleaver out as she does. She hands the meat to a pair of hands from off screen, before being handed a clean towel. She wipes the blood off the blade as a hook is placed in the pigs back end. It slowly pulls the swine up so it’s head down. The excess blood drips to the floor…

If I have to pick you apart and cut you up so I can achieve my goal, so be it. If I have to CRIPPLE you and send you back to Louisiana in a medical helicopter so I can wear that championship, so be it…

If I have to kill you...so my family can survive?

So. Be it.

Niki cracks her neck and rolls her shoulders. A small smirk crosses her face.

Because at the end of that night... no matter what you throw at me, no matter how hard you hit me...I will endure...And Tuesday morning, I will walk through the doors of Heaven’s Den, I will raise MY world championship above my head, and I will say...in a STRONG, CLEAR voice…

Niki leans forward…

She licks the blood off her lips...and smiles.

...Mama’s Home…

She spins on her heels and swings the cleaver at the pig…

The lights go out…

Niki cackles.

WOLVES

AETERNUM

VaeVictisBD, Aria Jaxon, Christopher Sabertooth, Jeff X, Mav., The Banshee and Gwen Harper have spoken. It’s such good shit!

Re: OWA Promos October 23rd 2020, 11:16 pm by Guest

Why Can't We be Friends?

There is a saying, Dulce. “Controversy creates Cash.” Now I ain’t gonna question your intelligence. I mean, you’re Dulce Torres. You’re Odyssey’s perfect creation. Everybody’s favorite, the gold standard Champion, a decent human being that everyone’s little girl should look up to and strive to be. I’m not here to say you don’t deserve the shit you got. I’m not gonna come on here and be like you telling me that I don’t deserve the things I have. Because you know, I have enough to respect my fellow women here, in saying, you be the best damn version of you that you can be and you live your truth. I’m not here to shame anyone. That’s something for you elitist to tell yourselves to set yourself apart from the others. Great for you, want a damn cookie?

But I, genuinely just want to see women, not necessarily me, but those outcasts that everyone shuns because they aren’t “normal.” They don’t represent what the company wants them to be, professional athletes that show respect to one another. No, no, no. Jonetta, Llorona, April, and I, we’re just trimming the fat, and jumping straight to the front, and I’m just gonna say it. We’re sick and tired. We had enough of this company choosing to play it “safe” rehashing and reusing the same women over and over thinking this is “money.” Let’s watch Diantha, Natalie, and Dulce go at each other’s throats over and over, because they are afraid of backlash. Jonetta, Llorona, April, we all speak out minds. They aren’t shared with the rest of the locker room.

It wasn’t hard for me to convince them to join me in what is essentially going out there and punching the biggest person in the locker room to make a statement. All I asked them was, “are you tired of waiting?” Patiences, they say is a virtue, but the sad truth is, some people wait and wait, and that moment never comes. I mean, look at April and how long she has done this. I saw these women, and I just felt it. Anger, knowing that they have to wait and stay hungry while the pigs at the top continue to feast like queens. Let’s bring back Natalie Cage to invoke the olds days, while others continue to wait. Again, I get it, makes no sense coming out of my mouth.

If you want to once again, use statistics to bully me, I haven’t done anything. I won’t hide it. Among my friends, I am the weakest link, and going against Dulce, there is no one backstage telling me, “good luck” and “you can do this.” No, there is just, “you’re just there to make Dulce look good.” Like as if Dulce needs to look better than she already has. Again, I don’t think you understand what it’s like to be talked down upon by your peers. There is no support, granted, there are ton of support for you… Diantha… and Natalie. But for the girls like myself, all I had was Mizuko, bless her soul. April and I, we go back, and we always had a mutual understanding. It was always about doing the job, and a lot of the time, it’s returned with no appreciation. Then I saw Jonetta, alone and pathetic without her Dollhouse friend. I gotta tell you, watching that woman alone with her cup, I wanted to cry for her. She won’t admit it, but you can swear, looking at her reflection in the cup, she wasn’t thinking about how amazing she was, she was trying to convince herself she was. And Jonetta, same thing, but with her machete that she constantly polishes.

Point is, Dulce, I, Rebecca Lee McQueen, Revy, support all women. Even the most vile ones because I believe we all deserve the same level of success as anyone else. This is the philosophy of my brother’s group with Shin-SEKAI, and I’ve brought this to Odyssey as well. It’s a damn shame it has to be at your expense, but like I said, “controversy sells” and if anyone knows how to make a scene and cause a ruckus, it’s this gal. Say what you want, Dulce. I might suck as a competitor. I can’t wrestle for shit. My win and loss record is abysmal, and a lot of the time, people don’t want anything to do with me. But I made this happen and possible. Jonetta and Llorona could had just been at each other’s neck the rest of the season while you get 3 more shots for the Women’s title, but I got them to focus. I told them we can all get a piece of that pie, and it’s agreed.

I ain’t gonna lie. I’m not the sharpest tool in the shed. But when there is something I really want, you’d be surprised how efficient I can become. Jonetta is right, I have killed before. Again, not flexing my status as a veteran to guilt you or anything. But that was to survive. This time…. All I want… is simply… for all my friends to be happy. Is that not the overall goal we should strive to achieve? We have so many differences, but some common grounds. We all work for the same company. We are all “women.” We all hated Eris and the Void. WHY CAN’T WE ALL JUST GET ALONG?!! WHY CAN’T WE BE FRIENDS?!!

Yet, there are simply people like you, that just don’t want to give people a chance. Wait, that’s not fair. Maybe not you or Diantha per say. I know you accept all challengers. Good for you. But I’m talking more in reference to… HER… the one that signs all our paychecks. You got me. You forced me to play all my cards. If we, can’t get our shots…. Then maybe it’s time we don’t give them a choice. After all, Dulce, how’s a couple of months of vacation for you? You’ve earned it. You’ve done so much work for us. It’s time for us Ladies to take the burden that you’ve carry to take Odyssey further. And I get it, it’s hard for you to walk away, because you love the spotlight and those title belts so much, but as your “friend,” I’d like to make that decision for you. Perhaps a concussion? One month vacation. A broken Knee cap? Six months….. A broken neck?…. A permanent vacation.

You deserve a break, you really do. It’s ok. Shush shush shuuuush. It’s not your fault. It’s not your fault that you’ve worked so hard to prove how incredibly reliable you are. How talented. Don’t let anyone take that from you! …. But I’m gonna take that from you for my homies, because I believe they can do what you do just as well, if not better. We’ll see if you can challenge for another championship title as you hobble to the ring. This match between you and I, it’s not about proving what I can do. Don’t expect me to try my hardest to prove you wrong or to justify my recent attacks. You can all ask April that question.

“Why April, WHY!?!”

But with me, it’s simple. I exist to create controversy. I exist to create cash. Whether it’s April, Llorona, or Jonetta, I believe in my friends. You are looking at the future of Odyssey here, and getting there up there, opens the flood gate. That anyone, and I mean… ANYONE can be the face of the company. Your shit-talkers, killers, and pyromaniacs, etc. There is a fanbase for that. There is capital there. There is enough to put faith in us. Not all of us are born with a silver spoon. That doesn’t mean we should be assigned as a side act until you get sick and tired of it and walk away from it it…. We all want a piece of it too, and quite frankly, we want a piece of you, Dulce. Imagine, being the one to end Dulce Torres. The great thing about being a loser like me, a win is a huge stepping stone for my career, and the worse part of it all, it doesn’t look great for someone with as many achievements as yourself to lose to someone like me. After all, only a bigger loser like Devi would brag about her friend beating me. I don’t know what that’s about. But like wow, think about it? If you lost to me, how embarrassing would that be?!! What would hurt more? The thought of taking an L from me or the beating I plan to give you. Sure. I might not win this match, but don’t treat me like every single one of your opponents in the past that you beat and kept moving up. I don’t intend to go away if you beat me. I mean it. The more opportunities that you take from my girls, the more compel I become to believe that the only thing that I can do, is take you, Natalie,and etc out of the equation.

Imagine, an Odyssey without Dulce Torres? How horrible? But a small price to pay…. For my friends. See you soon, Dulce.

Re: OWA Promos October 23rd 2020, 7:41 pm by **Elijah Hampton**

(The moment that Elijah has been waiting for since signing with OWA has finally arrived..he gets to ~~fuck up~~ fight Shea Flaherty. He gets to unleash the anger that’s been slowly building inside of him since being forced into a team with his bitter rival. This week, he’s gonna leave it all in the ring. And he’s going to leave Shea’s lifeless body in the ring. He’s training like he’s never before. He’s doing it all. He’s doing CrossFit, he’s drinking raw eggs, he’s running up steps, he’s punching frozen pieces of meat, and he’s doing push-ups on his knees like the ultimate competitor he is. Today, Elijah is right outside the arena, meeting with a shady guy with a table of weapons. A cameraman approaches them.)

Weapons Dealer: “Hold up! Who the fuck is that?!”

Elijah: “Hmm? Oh him? He’s cool. Well, he’s not actually cool..he’s like Shea in that regard, but you get what I’m saying? Yeah, you get it.”

Weapons Dealer: “Oh thanks for answering on my behalf. But I don’t know, man. He seems like an undercover cop. Look at him. Classic narc. I can’t get locked up again, man.”

Elijah: “Like I said, he’s cool. He’s with me. Relax.”

Weapons Dealer: “He wearing a wire? I can’t have anybody knowing about this, Elijah.”

Elijah: “Nah, he’s just a cameraman. Only thousands of people will see this. You good.”

Weapons Dealer: “Bet. So what you looking for exactly? I got some brass knuckles. Some kendo sticks. Actual trash cans. None of that flimsy shit. Nice shiny chairs. Good for sitting, even better for hitting somebody with. You see anything you like?”

(Elijah continues to browse all the weapons on the table, taking his sweet time. He’s humming some unknown tune as he does so, annoying the dealer but the dealer won’t say anything because he’s trying to make a sale. Elijah then grabs the brass knuckles and holds it close to his face. Inspecting it.)

Weapons Dealer: “Ah, brass knuckles. Great choice. Your total will be—“

Elijah: “Oh, no. You asked if I saw anything I like.”

Weapons Dealer: “Yeah and you grabbed the brass knuckles.”

Elijah: “Yeah, to see my reflection. I like it. Would ask you how much for that snazzy fellow looking back at me but I already know he’s priceless.”

Weapons Dealer: “Oh uh ok..”

Elijah: “Lets not waste any more time here. You got any ninja throwing stars? Extra sharp? Extra ninjay? And do they come with a mask? A belt? Preferably black.”

Weapons Dealer: “Uhh, no. Sorry.”

Elijah: “But I really want to throw things at Shea though. And hurt him really bad. Not too bad though because I’ll probably have to team with him after this. So like papercuts between the fingers bad. You got any blow darts or better yet, grenades?”

Weapons Dealer: “Whoa what the fuck?”

Elijah: “I think it would do some damage. But again, not too much. Maybe he loses a finger, so what? He’ll have nine more. He could always get it superglued back on. No harm, no foul.”

Weapons Dealer: “Not sure about the no harm part. There would be plenty of harm in that.”

Elijah: “It is what it is. I’m a deathmatch guy now. Been one for a long time now. Like twenty minutes. I inflict pain. I jump off stuff. Not only jump from tall objects, but I do so recklessly. Taking my elbow pad and knee pads off first because there is no softening the blow. None of that pussy shit around here. I’m crazy. And because I’m crazy, I do crazy things. I have voices in my head. Telling me to live this hardcore lifestyle.”

(Elijah’s and Shea’s mentor Roy Bandini steps onto the scene and looks at Elijah for a second before smacking him across the head.)

Elijah: “Owwww...the fuck?!”

(Roy smacks him again for good measure)

Elijah: “OMG stop I need to be 100% for my upcoming match.”

Roy: “OMG? *Disappointingly sighs* What are you even doing here.”

Elijah: “Just doing some grocery shopping. But instead of groceries, weapons.”

Roy: “For?”

Elijah: “My match with Shea?”

Roy: “You do realize you would get disqualified and lose right?”

Elijah: “Not if the referee’s back is turned. Big brain thinking right here.”

Roy: “And how are you going to do that?”

Elijah: “You’re asking the wrong person. You should be asking yourself that.”

Roy: “Oh, I’m gonna cause the distraction?”

Elijah: “Bingo. Like your favorite game. ‘Cause old.”

Roy: “No. I’m not going to help you. I’m not going to help Shea either. This match shouldn’t even be happening. Nothing good will come of it.”

Elijah: “Hmmm, hard disagree. I’m going to become Openweight Champion if I do.”

Roy: “No, it’s just an ‘opportunity’ for that title down the road..whatever that means. Listen, you and Shea are partners, not enemies.”

Elijah: “Debatable.”

Roy: “You guys have finally made a little progress as a team and you’re just gonna throw it away? You’re smarter than that. Actually no, that right there is DEBATABLE! Think about the bigger picture. That’s all I ask.”

(Roy walks away, giving Elijah a few moments to think things through. He looks at the weapons, thinking about the things he could do to Shea but walks away.)

“I have a decision to make. And I’m going to make that decision right here and now. Yep, that’s right, forget my ESPN sit down interview where the world waits in anticipation to learn where I’m taking my talents. OWA baby, you be playin too much. Teasing me like the hot lil slut you are. Wearing that perfume you know I like. Intoxicating me with every whiff. Giving me what I want. Or perhaps what I wanted without me having to beg. But it’s not that simple. It never is. There are two paths to choose here. Or two doors. Whichever you prefer. I like doors. I like slamming them. Because I may or may not be a little dramatic. That’s for you to decide, mhm. Sike, it’s for me to decide and the ruling states no. I’m rational and reasonable and don’t you forget it. ‘Cause I’ll remind you if you do. I been trying here. Trying my damndest to make things work. Things meaning this team. It hasn’t been easy. It’s been tough, thanks for asking. But nothing I can’t handle because tough is my middle name. I’m not a deathmatch guy for nothing. Shea and I, we will never be best friends. Let’s call a spade a spade. What a great phase by the way. Of course, I’m going to call the thing what it is, the fuck? But I haven’t given up hope because I know that after Shea gets to know me some more, he will learn to like me, appreciate me, accept me, respect me. That’s what everybody does in the end, duh. Shea, we can handle this match in many ways. So not just two doors like I originally stated. First time I was wrong about anything in my life, by the way. We can do what’s expected. We can rip each other to shreds like some mindless gladiators heading into battle where we both leave changed forever like we Russell Crowe and Joaquin Phoenix. You being Joaquin of course since you are both clowns. Haha get it? ‘Cause Joker? Yeaaah. I didn’t even mean it as an insult though since he’s a great actor and you wear face paint so it adds up. But yes, fighting each other.. we do this to please the fans, the masses. To give them the entertainment. Because they don’t know all about our long history. They haven’t seen our matches. Singles matches that is, against each other. Instant classics. So yeah, we could do that. We can be a couple of zoo animals, doing some tricks for a couple of claps and woo’s and peanuts. But I ask you, is this the route you should take? The one I should take? Perhaps it is. Perhaps this is what we need so we can properly move forward. To let off some steam. Beat the absolute shit out of each other and maybe we’ll find some mutual respect, some common ground, giving us a happily ever after? As if that’s ever been the case after any of our previous matches. I can’t help but think about what Roy said just moments ago. He told me to think about the bigger picture. Yeah, picture. Your favorite kind of book ‘cause it helps you understand things better. But like, yeah. Hmm, yeah.”

“I know you see me as a snake. A slithery snek. Hissin and rattlin and venomin like my name Eddie Brock. So what I have to say, I know you’ll take with a huge grain of salt. Never let your guard down, I get it. But this snake has shed its old skin. I no longer hide in the weeds, Shea, but out in the open. You can trust me. You don’t have to leave that wall built up. Tear it down. Over time of course. I don’t want to rush you into anything ‘cause I’m supportive like that. Brick by brick. I’ll earn your trust week by week, shhh, it’s gonna be okay. So as for my decision regarding our match? Drumroll please. Preferably by Travis Barker. I want to boycott this match. That’s my take. I don’t want to face you. Not because I’m scared, but because bigger picture. That’s the theme. I see what this match is for what it is. My third eye is wide open. This is a test. Which I know, was probably your kryptonite back in school and that’s fine. You don’t have to think. That’s what you have me for. I’m the brains and the brawn. And you..you’re Shea. And that’s just as dope. I’m not about singles success anymore. Who cares that I pinned the former world champ and I guess now-former Spartan champ? And Kyle Boe too. All three OWA legends, to be honest. I’m not here to flex or brag. Unless it’s about our amazing team, then yes. I’ll flap my perfectly pink gums and show off these sparkly pearly whites while doing so. But look, I’m all about teaming. I’m all about team awards. This is about Hampton & Flaherty. Together. I don’t want to end up like Chaos Elite where one wins a singles title and the other just fades into irrelevancy. Yeah, people deserve to know about you. And who you are is my partner, my equal. My soon to be friend. They deserve to hear your voice. I would say your talking, but it’s more so screaming. At the top of your lungs. You do you boo. That’s what I have to say to you. That’s my advice. Do whatever you want this week. You want to fight? I’ll bring you one. You want to prove we aren’t mindless sheep and just skip this match entirely so we can keep our eyes on the prize? Then I’ll do that. You’re calling the shots this week. You’re the one making the decisions. Just make sure you choose the right one."

VaeVictisBD, Aria Jaxon, Shea Flaherty and Doodled have spoken. It’s such good shit!

Re: OWA Promos October 23rd 2020, 7:25 pm by **Doodled**

KYLE BOE

A new video has gone up on Kyle Boe's verified YouTube channel.

OWA Promos K6UkckZ

The feed fades in on a fairly normal gym - or what would be a normal gym, if not for the shag carpeting and windows leading to a spectacular vista - trees and hills as far as the eye can see.

The music kicks in - an unholy concoction of hyperpop-trap and early '10s dubstep. Waltzing into frame, repeatedly lifting a dumbbell of indeterminate weight, is Kyle Boe! His ignorance of the camera is betrayed by his repeated glances towards the viewer. Kyle Boe mouths the word "down" at irregular intervals, followed by the cameraman reluctantly panning down to show Kyle Boe's finely-carved abdominals. Kyle Boe swagger-steps to the camera, using his free hand to lift the angle back to his face.

"Heyyyyyy now, eyes up here, ladies. Boe Army vets. I might got all the pizzazz and pizzas in the world, but I also got some real talk for ya."

Kyle Boe gestures at his private gym all around him as the cameraman steps away to take in all the machinery. He leans back, arms spread wide, and shouts-

"WHAT! IIIIIIIS UP! ALL MY BOE-MIES! BOE BROS! AND AAAAAAALLLLLLL MY HO-BOES KNOW WHAT TIME IT IS!"

He beckons the camera in closer and holds his free hand up to his mouth, as if letting the viewer in on a little secret - however, his next line echoes as bombastic as the last.

"IT'S EPISODE ONE OF LIFE AS A WRESTLERRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR! Ooooooh yeah, brother-brother!"

Kyle Boe strikes a pose for a brief moment, unable to restrain his wheezing after tearing up his throat. He finishes his spat of coughs before bringing his tone back down.

"And - as always - my millions of Boe-suckers are watching... a-The Boe Show."

Kyle Boe switches the barbell to his opposite hand, continuing the pumping motion as he wanders the gym, not bothering to check if his camera crew can keep a good shot going.

"Now, I wanna start by doin' something I really don't like doing - I gotta put some pedal to the metal, but back. Back-pedal. Yeah.

That, uh... Shea Flaherty guy? The one I was shouting-out hard? Yeah, that dude can eat a d-[BRUH.MP3], alright? Elijah Hampton's a dweeb, but he's a dweeb that can go go GO, y'know? We were goin' at it, and I had him sized UP. But then that Flaherty little b-[BRUH.MP3]-ch must've gotten his butt a lil 'Herty or something, 'cause next thing I know, that dude was fingering the ref! Just straight up blasting the guy! Like, bruh. Bruh. Get the fu-rick outta here.

Seriously, Shea. You realize how many Is-Over parties I'm gonna have to throw for you to get your shame off my brand? Was having a blast getting to know Elijah - like, the real guy - and then you show up and wipe your hairy-ass palms all over it. Christ, dude. Bruh."

Kyle Boe shakes his head, the mental pain of having to deal with this seeming to affect him physically as well. One of his assistants - a young fellow with thick glasses and shaggy hair - tries to sneak past in the background.

"Hey! Dennis!"

Kyle Boe, barely waiting for Dennis to lift his head, yeets his dumbbell at him. Dennis barely has time to yelp before the dumbbell hits his chest - despite it lacking a label, the weight is apparently severe enough to floor Dennis immediately. The camera is quick to pan away.

"But hey, onto tonight. And onto BOE'S LIFE AS A WRESTLERRRRRR!

Lesson numero uno from the Boe-ster? Some of these dudes are weird."

Kyle Boe lets out a chuckle as images of Maelstrom and Miltiades - grievously photoshopped into contorted ogres - flash and spin onto the screen, accompanied by a lavish cacophony of farts.

"One of these dudes wants to take over the world!... of wrestling.
And the other wants to use his merry band of simps to tear down the world!... of wrestling.

There's a lotta no-dazzle low-sub lumps of litter like these two. Like punk-a[BRUH.MP3] BRIAN from FOURTH GRADE walkin' around thinking he's the cock of the block and all that. The big, meaty block-cock. Cock-o'-block. All that."

Kyle Boe spits to the side for emphasis, causing an audible wince from the cameraman.

"When in reality, ol' Brian, ol' Mael, ol' Wilty Milt - they're all the princes of the playground, and nothing more. The kiddie pool - but, like... with no water.

You can waltz into a company - into a business - and claim to be the new ruler all you want. And, sh[BRUH.MP3], maybe you are.

But once the ol' Boe-ster steps in, story's gonna change.

'Cause I ain't from your world. I'm basically some kinda alien doin' sick kick-flips and dabbin' up all your cuties in my spinny-a[BRUH.MP3] spaceship. You can't cure the virus of Boe 'cause Boe ain't even from here. I'm not just some kinda king of the ring - I'm a goshdarn GOD of industries that charisma-vacuum f[BRUH.MP3]s like you can't even touch. I get into something, and y'know what happens? I become the best. I come in, I conquer, I win everyone's hearts - add 'em to the Boe Army - and then I'm off to the next conquest. I'm not trying to break barriers - I already broke 'em.

And you can keep climbing up the big-boy slide and going "I'm king of the cas-tle, I'm king of the cas-tle" all you want. 'Cause at the end of the day, I'm the one getting a statue of my face installed while I'm schluppin' your mom.

Basically?
I'm a mother-schluppin' shredded Napoleon on his way to shank every ass in my way like some kinda one-man French battalion led by Sir Mix-A-Lot.

And Dennis, don't censor this in post. Those chuckle-fucks think they can diss a certified Dennis beat made from their own damn song. I want them to know where I'm at."

Kyle Boe's voice - which had taken on a more sinister, barking tone - abruptly switches back to his loud YouTuber cadence.

"And where I'm at is the BOE HOME GYM-BOE-SIUM! And y'know what the most important part of getting swole is?"

Kyle Boe struts forward and makes a dramatic showing of pointing to a nearby shelf. On said shelf is:

OWA Promos BhWJdXL

"That's right! INSPIRATION! I'm a goddamn cat!

We're bringin' back the Eight Wonders of the Boe-rld to inspire YOU when you're working out!"

The rest of Kyle Boe's promotional video is focused on Boe Store advertisements and a three-minute diss track against Jesus.

Elijah Hampton has spoken. It’s such good shit!

Re: OWA Promos October 23rd 2020, 7:16 pm by **The Council**

(Zaxaria treads in the new facility, taking in the new sights and the new items at his disposal. They had arrived earlier than the platoon, so they have the first right and first view of everything before it’s put to use. He stops in the gym to look at all that is there available for him and the group)

Hmm this definitely is a leg up from the performance center. I wonder how much money or who Mil had to extort to get this set up?

(He continues through and enters what is essentially a break room for those who want to unwind during this. He grimaces at the low-end appearance, as compared to the gym’s high-end tech. He doesn’t stay for long as he makes his way to the media room where The Council looks and waits for the opposition to start and make their campaigns against them, while also looking at the buzz they create. It’s comprised of a large monitors set up around keeping track of all the happenings of everything. It would be a great surveillance room if they didn’t know they would be bored by everyone already.)

Haha It is as wonderful as I imagine. These stats, these views, everything in this is already bring joy to my ears. If only both Nero and Mil were here to see this. It would def-

(His attention is caught by the noise of some music in the corner of the room. The media room has situated some tablets for smaller viewing, suited for looking at individuals who want to campaign directly to one of the members. Since Militiades is in a match they have it situated for Kyle Boe and Maelstrom. In it there is a video playing, but the view is blocked by a standing Nero.)

Nero? I didn’t know you were in here. What are you watching?

(Nero stands still and Zax goes and looks over his shoulder. He is met with the video that Kyle Boe has posted.)

What the hell is that? What the hell is that beat? What the hell is going on in this god damn video.

(Nero finally speaks)

I-I don’t know. There was a notification when I came in, so I decided to watch it and it’s just nonsense. It’s just insulting that this is what OWA has come to. I haven’t been in OWA at all and yet I feel like this is some asinine shit I would have seen in the other federations I had been a part of. It’s uncouth, it’s unimaginative, it’s childish, its- its.

Interesting….

(Nero and Zax look back to see Miltiades had come into the media room. He had seen the video before on his own accord. So there is no surprise on his face.)

Mil, you’re not gonna entertain this with an answer, are you? This is way below our paygrade and way below what we know what we’re worth. It’s just insulting that this Kyle Boe guy decided to make a horrendous beat to this video and just post it. Like I don’t know what OWA considers good anymore, but I doubt that this is it.

Zax, Nero, it isn’t good in the slightest. But this is the one thing that we need to know about OWA. The disease has become rampant.

(Miltiades takes the tablet from Nero and puts it back to where it goes. And Turns back to them.)

OWA likes to find these types of things “entertaining” but in reality it just goes to show that what we have here is nothing more than disease ridden fantasies of what is going on in here. But I will say this. Credit is given where it is due, Kyle Boe made something that made me chuckle, made me laugh, but nonetheless just sealed his fate. Look you two, look at what is before us and know that these are who we are trying to weed out. These are who we are trying to show the world that they are nothing more than the scum that we have to get out of the system. Come with me.

(Miltiades takes Zax and Nero to the War Room. What once was just maps and files is now a fully adorned room with one big screen adorned with a world map. In the middle is a conference table where Militades and his generals can sit and plan.)

Now what is our overall objective. Zax!

To bring the strong to OWA. To Ensure that only the Strong Survive.

Good. And how do we go about ensuring that? Nero!

By unleashing anarchy. Take out the ruler and let the oppressed fight it out. Those who survive, are those who are worthy.

Great. Now it is in this effort that we are needing to realize that our goals have already been in motion, and that they are not going to falter. The only way for them to falter is what again?

For them to realize that infighting will go nowhere

To realize anarchy isn’t the solution, and to realize that fighting isn’t going to determine leadership.

But that’s not going to happen because why?

Because They are Sheep

Because They Are Sheep

That’s right. Each of these groups that are going through this are fighting for power, but that representative isn’t as clear cut as they think it is. They have de-facto leaders, but those subordinates aren’t going to want to be subordinates for much longer. The Council doesn’t have a leader, just a person who speaks a figure head. We all have our responsibilities and goals that we know can be completed due to this business relationship we have. And due to this we are the stronger of the groups within OWA. And with this we know we are going to win. But we are still within phase 2 of our plan. While this anarchy has happened the underbelly of the organization has shown itself. And I don’t mean underbelly as a way of describing groups that crime ridden or nefarious means of order, but the soft part of the organization. From this we get people who are so caught up in just the glitz and glamour that comes with this spread of fame that they are going to be seen as nothing more than just a face, a person people can pinpoint out of a crowd if they needed it. And in the time of when OWA was young, when it was just getting started this was good. But fame is always fleeting, and fame is temporary. Power is what is going to be ever lasting. Rulers, now rulers are temporary, but the power never goes away, it’s just transferred whether its from a new person or to a newer system power is always there. And what we are getting here is the power that OWA and by extent kingdom has lost.

And once that vacuum is seen and felt you get the weak points of the place starting to fester and turn until in the end it becomes this walking corpse. And then you get people like Kyle and Maelstrom. You have these two men, complacent, thinking that what they are going to do is going to break the barrier, but in actuality it is nothing more than the bare minimum. What we are looking for now isn’t the bare minimum, what we are looking isn’t complacency, but for the fire that you belong. There are a thousand Kyles, there are a thousand Maelstroms and it boils to how easily replaceable you are. From what I’ve seen, everyone is replaceable, everyone is going to come to that point where they meet their doppelgänger. And do you know the legends of the doppelganger? When you meet that person, when you meet the person that is essentially your look-alike it spells doom for you. It shows to you and to fate how easily and quickly that you can be replaced, and it will happen. It’s going to happen. I mean let us look at my opponents. I could replace them easily with two others. Get me Derelict and Nas, and the people could easily replace Kyle and Maelstrom, because those two are just poor copies of the former. It’s become a game of who is replaceable, and who is just a copy. We have lost originality, we have lost substance, and we choose supplement what we want with what we are settling for. That is the plan. That’s been the plan from the beginning. To show Kingdom, and to this extent, OWA that a lifetime of settling, and lifetime of being complacent and letting copies run amok is what it’s going to be the downfall. As Oasis said, once we’re having fun now. And we’re going to continue to have fun, until I see fit that the weak are culled, and the strong remain. Until then. We are the Council. We Decide your fate. And We Assign your Future.

Aria Jaxon has spoken. It’s such good shit!

Re: OWA Promos October 23rd 2020, 5:11 pm by **#BeLikeBea**

OWA Promos E44457d001e7296f526c4fe3c95d8a902ce010f9

Odyssey I. - One step back, two steps forward.

The scene opens at a state-of-the-art gym in Indianapolis, it was Friday night and surprisingly the gym would have been completely barren without Vanessa's appearance. Speaking of one Vanessa Laurent, the camera zooms in and we can see an open plan gym, with a wrestling ring smack bang in the middle. Surrounding the ring is a variety of workout equipment and seated on the ring apron is a sweaty blonde. She takes a swig of water, breathing deeply, enough indication that she'd just finished a rather brutal workout in preparation for her second Odyssey appearance.

“Ness?”

Quickly, Vanessa lifted her head to see her chauffeur and family friend Jackson standing before her. A very, very small smile appeared on her features. He waited for her to catch her breath as she wiped the sweat off the top of her forehead.

“Sorry to bother you but you're almost thirty minutes late. Everything okay? I thought you might've hurt yourself." Vanessa smirked as she nodded her head, chuckling gently after, waving her hand dismissively. She looked up to him as she continued to try to get her breath back to a normal speed.

“I am fine. No need to worry. I just need to push myself a little more than I normally would. I need to be at my best for this weekend.”

“Aren't you always at your best?” Jackson asked, prompting another dry laugh to slip past Vanessa's lips. Of course she was, anything else would be a disservice to a woman of her standard.

“I am always at my best. I’m intelligent enough to know that much. But I am also intelligent enough to know that my best wasn't good enough two weeks ago. I need to bring something else to the table if I am going to walk away with the win on Monday. You may think I am being hard on myself considering I am brand new to this business and realistically nothing happens overnight but I'd much rather have the person who knows me best, myself, be tough on myself over anyone else. I'm almost positive that some lesser women are already downplaying me because I.. failed to win when I said I would. No one knows my strengths and.. weaknesses lets say as I do. I need to prove that I'm not going to be a joke around these parts. I am here for a reason." Vanessa hopped down from the ring apron, eyeing the room as if it would come up with a solution to the slight dilemma she was facing. Jackson waited for her to step forward before speaking again.

"Do you want to know what I think?" Jackson asked. Vanessa shot him a look but she didn't stop him from continuing.

“The answer is quite simple believe it or not, I think you need to start trusting yourself a little bit more."

- - -

Disappointment:
Noun
Sadness or displeasure caused by the non-fulfilment of one's hopes or expectations.

One of the things that we know about life is that it is always changing. Sometimes you’re up; sometimes you’re down. Sometimes things go well, and sometimes they don’t. Sometimes you’re happy and sometimes you’re sad. The second we begin to understand and know that, accepting the reality that that we will never ever have things just on an even keel all the time becomes a less daunting task. You're going to have some ups, and you’re going to have some downs. But during those down moments, that’s where the growth takes place. That’s where the work is. Above all, I am a businesswoman, I know where I need to apply a little more hard work, I do not mind altering an original strategy of mine if it is going to better an original vision I may have had. It is not ideal but it is what it is to put it rather bluntly. I am not a woman who knows how to be in touch with her emotions but if there is one thing I am definitely feeling right now it is disappointment. Not just in myself for failing to do what should’ve been the simplest task in putting Rebecca Brookes down for the three count but I also feel disappointed in my next opposition for failing to open her mouth as this is currently being delivered to you all. Silly me for expecting that a fellow new addition to Odyssey would be looking to make a statement as soon as they could. Especially with how intimidating Legion attempts to present herself as, you’d think she’d be the first person trying to convince the world that she’s oh so big and scary and that I, a woman near six feet tall, one hundred and fifty pounds, will be the first name added to the “extensive list of victims” that she’ll be collecting throughout her time here. First impressions are imperative in this world and right now honey you’re not making a very good one. I know it can be considered hypocritical of me to say but at least I can say that I am here fixing my mistake. Facing adversity has never been an easy task for me, I can’t ever recall really having to fight for anything in my life before and to the surprise of everyone, myself included, when I got my first taste of what it is like to be a competitor here in OWA, I enjoyed it. Now, my mission isn’t just to rule this company one day, it’s to do that whilst being the best athlete and competitor I know I’m meant to be. On paper, I’m doomed. Legion has me beat in experience and in terms of accomplishments, really, I should be nothing more than a walk in the park. But I’ve quickly learned that this sport doesn’t work in that manner. In comparison to me, I’m sure she has the skills to make up for her lack of size and power, she’ll be forced to rely on her speed, aerial attack and pedigree to try and get past me. Emphasis on try. I’m a mat wrestler, I’m not here for theatrics. The second I get Legion on the ground; I know I’m going to dominate. If she can’t run around, fly or use one of her several personalities to “intimidate” me then what does she truly have against me?

There’s zero chance she will be able to overpower me or out-wrestle me, she can attempt to slip out of my holds but when I’m on my A-game, not even the best wrestler in this women’s division could outshine me. I have been lucky enough to have some of the greatest wrestlers this profession has generated over the course of its existence as my trainers. I have absorbed knowledge, wittiness and an immense amount of skills among many other things and I am only just getting my feet wet. I didn’t have to spend my youth setting up rings in abandoned gymnasium’s just to get trainers to even consider taking me under their wing, I never had to waste years on the independent circuit, shedding unnecessary amounts blood, destroying my body and taking years off my career in the process just to be considered by the big leagues. None of that, not for Miss Vanessa Laurent. Time is all we have, this moment, here, right now. The only thing in life we’re not able to reacquire once it’s gone is time, money, material items, anything like that you can get back. It’s a unique concept, when time is utilized correctly it contains all the ingredients to success, to happiness, to growth and prosperity, everything we want. But then again, if time is neglected, leaves us with very little. There really is no time like the present. Now is the time to not hold back, I’m not waiting to be called up to the party, I’m making and then taking my own cue. There is no ceiling, no limitations, no special requirement, all there is is me and what I allow myself to accomplish. I have my foot on the gas pedal. I want to change my luck here so that is exactly what I am going to do. I am creating a plan; I’m moving and I’m transforming. Unfortunately, Legion, this doesn’t end well for you. I am the speed bump that is in the way of your route to a successful career here and you’re in for a rough ride.

Trust me when I say that whilst people don’t know it yet, I will be an unstoppable force here. Soon, I will be the main face of the Women’s Division. You all don’t have the slightest clue that you are witnessing a legend in the making. When people hear The Lady is scheduled for a match? Tickets for said show will sell out before you know it. I am a gem, a diamond in a case full of pebbles that’s waiting to be discovered so she can light up the world. I am here to achieve great things and you will respect me. If you don’t?

I’ll merely have to make you, one by one.

We really don't have to do this the hard way.

VaeVictisBD, Aria Jaxon and Jeff X have spoken. It’s such good shit!

Re: OWA Promos October 23rd 2020, 1:06 pm by **Theodor Pavel**

In the eyes of the ‘Modern Day Goliath’ Banch Morgan, professional wrestling will always carry a mantra of ‘War before Peace’. Victories and Defeats, Wins and Losses, they come hand in hand in the business. Currently, the great war in OWA consists of many interesting parties. So many villains, so few heroes. It was a gloomy cloud that always ran over his head when it came to how to handle such pressure. He wasn’t in the fight himself, those days ended. He thought he had escaped, and could begin a new life. The new life came in the form of an explosive, intelligent, and respectful young Romanian prospect. A couple losses along the way were thought to derail young Theodor Pavel, but you would never know by looking at him. Now, with a match against the OWA World Champion Havoc on the horizon, the pressure became that much greater. How can the young talent escape his sense of carelessness to make the ultimate statement?

..Santa Monica Beach..
..Santa Monica, CA..

It was a hectic time for everyone involved in the war. Very seldom in the height of the chaos do people actually smile and have fun. Theodor wasn’t like most. He was confident in his abilities to take control of any fight that seemed to be a little too tumultuous. Unfortunately for him, he had come across situations recently that were on that level, such a challenge that he wasn’t able to win. He would be frustrated with each defeat, but found his way through the curtain, out the arena and into the arms of his biggest supporter.

Rocking his navy blue Brioni suit as he walked along the beach with his biggest supporter in the world, Theodor had no care for the matches ahead of him. He only cared about happiness. Seeing the sun light up the water with each glow forming as the waves would swirl through, Theodor was in heaven with Misaki, who was sporting a light blue summer dress. Theodor removed his coat and flipped it over his shoulder while locking his free hand with hers, as they looked to be on cloud nine.

From a short distance, three more walk behind the lovely couple. It’s the Banch Morgan we know and just love, his amazing assistant Veronica, and of course his daughter, Alandra. Their mindset felt a little different. They knew Theodor was in for a major fight against Havoc. The man had been so dominant with the Ashes of the Wake. Even with cracks in their armour though, they were still a significant threat. The match lying ahead on Kingdom was going to prove the task to be difficult.

“Any plans on how Theodor is going to be ready for Havoc?”

Veronica had been concerned, not for win or loss, but the wellbeing of the young lion. She had spent so many hours, so many days with Theodor on helping him get to his obligated appearances and was the primary source of training Theodor mentally for his matches. Her fluency in Romanian made it easier for her to fit the bill, since Morgan wouldn’t be bothered to even attempt to learn the language.

“I’ve been watching his matches, been trying to figure out every single thing that could possibly happen. I know Theodor won’t be fighting just Havoc. That’s a given. I know in a one on match, Theodor would be able to give Havoc more than enough of a battle, a winnable battle. Even with Havoc being the World Champion, I’d bet on Theodor. I’d bet on the guy who wants it more. Unfortunately, I know that Theodor would be fighting odds that not many can come back from. Something is going to happen, and I don’t like it, not one bit.”

The elation on the face of Theodor was worrisome for Morgan as he watched intently. He saw the gleaming smile from Theodor while the Hands of Ice put his arm around Misaki from a distance. Theodor was the guy who was supposed to be this huge money maker in the business, and it wasn't completely according to plan. It wasn’t for a lack of effort, but growing pains. This match will be another opportunity to get the ball rolling for his young career.

“Have you tried talking to Theodor about all this with Misaki? I mean, I’m so happy for them and he is really happy. Just, he should have some focus on what he’s doing in the ring. He always seems so distracted now.”

Alandra made a good point. She had been trying to teach Theodor some english words, but would get bored and begin teaching him cursing words and random slang. The guy spent a week shouting “Cowabunga” at random objects. It was entertaining, but not very helpful. He needed to focus though.

“Have I talked to him? I can’t talk to the guy without a translation. How the hell does he know Japanese anyways?!”

The three watch Theodor in a state of slight confusion. While it came out of left field that he would carry a wonderful conversation with Misaki, speaking her primary language, it was also helpful in his training with Arata Asakura. Theodor learned a lot from training with the Top Shogun in the business. Even after that, Michael Bishop took the time to work with Theodor as well, bringing another element into his arsenal. It was really nice to see the Frontline veterans helping him out. Morgan had trouble understanding why he felt Theodor would need to train with these men instead of allowing the boss to control the training regiment. Theodor was already in phenomenal ring shape, just there was something lacking. Even more so now, with motivation.

“I don’t get it, guys. He’s getting into the ring with one of the best wrestlers on the planet. Havoc is no joke, he’s been a winner practically everywhere he’s been. Now, with that title that he stole from Jeff X, the pressure is so clear on us. We have to make this work for Theodor, we have to have him ready for Kingdom, we have to make sure he’s aware that this isn’t just a song and dance experiment, but a fight. If Theodor can get a fight going, he can end the fight. Until then, I’m just not sure, guys. I don’t know what else he can do anymore with his head not in the game.”

“COWABUNGA!!”

Up ahead, Theodor and Misaki laughed as Theodor shouted the word at a surfboard. Misaki repeated it, shouting it at the water as the two burst out laughing. Morgan glared at Alandra, who had been laughing in response to the two.

“Alandra, come on.”

“Really, Dad? That wasn’t funny at all?”

Morgan rolled his eyes, looking at the water before refocusing his thoughts.

“Even in a one on fight, like I was saying, you know it will only be a matter of time before the rest of the Ashes of the Wake get involved. They’re going to swarm and attack. They’re going to jump in and try to keep Havoc from coming away with a loss. It’s just the numbers game.”

“What numbers though? Look at the allies for Theodor! He has the Frontline backing him up. Jeff X, Asakura, Bishop, Ryo, others. They’re going to even the odds if it gets too bad out there for him. He’ll be able to walk out of the match, plus you’ll be there, you still have something in the tank, don’t you?”

Alandra and Veronica both laugh as Morgan didn’t seem so amused. Everyone seemed to be having a good time except for the guy who had something major to lose here. Usually how it worked, Banch Morgan was not in fighting shape. All the show muscles, the weakened cardio, and a few damaged joints and tendons were enough to keep him from getting his old carcass into the ring, even for one final match.

“It’s not the point, guys. Theodor is the guy who has to do the fighting, and has to get the win. I’m retired for a reason, guys. It has to be Theodor, only him.”

He continued to think everything through. This couldn’t be an easy task of course, there always had to be a ridiculous challenge. Havoc had everything to gain, and everything to lose. It felt more like a Banch Morgan situation than a Theodor Pavel situation. There was no way to come away with the win without something horrible transpiring. So many challenges to come along the way, so many obstacles. If Theodor were to defeat Havoc though, maybe that would put him in line for a OWA Title Shot. Not something to scoff at, the title does carry meaning. Some of the best competitors in the world have won that Championship. Could it be Theodor’s for the taking? There was an idea worth investing in.

“You know, I’ve spent a lot of money and a lot of time trying to build up his brand. Hell, I signed off on him fighting in an Outlaw Championship match in his very debut! Theodor has all the tools, he has all the talent and he has what many in this business just don’t have, yet he can’t get the job done a lot of times. I don’t get it. I don’t understand what’s missing from him. He is lacking the killer instinct, yet when I try to teach him those things, he scoffs at it like it’s the biggest insult one could give him. He likes honor, but honor only gets you so far! Now we have Misaki here. Flying her in to visit was a reward for him trying his best. We gave him that lunch with Nakajima since he was a fan of her work, I don’t get what more we can give him to motivate him to win.”

“Freedom?”

“Excuse me?”

“Maybe he needs to build a little independence, Dad. He lives by your schedule. He trains seven days a week, four plus hours a day. That’s a lot of time, plus his travel, plus his isolation from a lot of people. You’re protecting him so much. The guy lives in and out of a suitcase because of you, so maybe having Misaki is keeping him grounded and not going insane like ANYONE else would have by now. You don’t want him to crack. He’s a good guy.”

He continued to watch Theodor, who came to a stop, looking at the water. Misaki’s head was on his shoulder as the two peered together. They were so happy, it was a shame to give him any bad news, or even give him hell for something that was not his fault.

“Is this about a car? Because I can buy you a car.”

Alandra’s eyes rolled as she shrugged at her father.

There was no way to escape the obvious, Theodor Pavel was one hell of a fighter, one hell of a man. Now, he needs to bring out that aggression that will bring him from the state of obscurity and into the mainstream. Misaki might be the key to getting Theodor to be able to defeat somebody like Havoc. But how..

Re: OWA Promos October 23rd 2020, 12:30 pm by **Holden Tudics**

Olympus Promo 3: Retrovertigo (or CD if Graham doesn't want to do a 3rd)

(The camera opens on a desolate mall setting. The walls are lined with stores with their gates down, sporting 'Out of Business' signs. The tile floors, usually shiny with a granite finish, lay untouched and caked in dust. The far off sound of shoes hitting tile is heard through the vacant silence. As the echoes draw nearer, Derelict walks into shot with his bindle over his shoulder and a tired expression on his face.)

"A few decades ago...pre-pandemic of course...this place was hoppin'. I know because my father worked here. He was what they called 'Maintenance Director'. Now that's a catch-all term that basically means he's the head janitor and repairman. He also acted as first responder if there was any discourse between vendors and customers, even kept an eye out for vagrancy and vandalism. If some shitty kids were actin' up on the escalators, he'd handle it hopefully before security had to get involved. If someone collapsed in the food court with a heart attack, he was the one who called the shots and sprung to action to avoid any wrongdoing from any of the kiosk or eatery employees. He pretty much kept the fast food eateries hands clean legally and helped keep minimum wage slaves out of a courthouse for showing concern for their fellow man. He was paid well for this job, and respected heavily by his staff and fellow mall employees. As far as they were concern, he was like an unappointed sheriff. A real big fish in a small pond with an undeserved self-importance that was backed and conflated by those around him. That's why when he finally broke his back doing that job, the entire custodial staff left and quite a few of the vendors too...buncha suckers if you ask me. Before then he'd walk this mall from dawn to dusk, bringing me along on weekends when I wasn't in school. This place may have been where I gained my penchant for roaming if I were to sit down and analyze it, but I digress."

(The Derelict stops walking and stares ahead. The camera pans around to an over the shoulder shot to find the focus of his nostalgic gaze. Before him, bare and neglected, a modest mall stage sits. Derelict looks around a moment, perhaps in search of security, before casting his bindle aside and stepping up on the stage.)

"He was also an event coordinator here. He'd help set up and delegate construction of the Santa and Easter Bunny sets, decide which food kiosks could be at stage side, rope off or queue the audience section and set security perimeters and the like. Usually all this pomp and preparation added up to some washed up has-been rocker coming through, or a motivational speaker, or an author, or the aforementioned holiday icons. Nothing too exciting for a worldly man, but plenty flabbergasting for the small town rubes in attendance. One week a karate man came in and rented the stage for demonstration. He was like most karate men; full of himself, filled with tall tales about meeting Bruce Lee or beating Chuck Norris at some unseen tournament. He thought he was a big man too, despite only teaching at the YMCA prior to striking out on his own to start his strip mall dojo to teach preteens. Needless to say, this middle aged out of shape man in a gi did enough to impress the staff that set up his exhibition. They marveled at him breaking boards and throwing around his compliant peers with judo techniques. They ooh'd and ahhh'd when he gained wrist control with a self-professed Steven Seagal technique to disarm his fellow dojo instructor. My dad, being the pigheaded white trash that he is who grew up learning to fight because he had big brothers to contend with, took issue with all of the attention and trim this guy was pulling. When time came for the show, my pops helped wrangle people in, seated them accordingly, and then took his place at the stage steps to survey the entire event's proceedings. Time came for the karate man to ask for volunteers. Naturally, my pop raised his hand. The employees in the know that were in attendance all marveled and gasped at him stepping up to the plate, some unsure if my dad was working with the guy to put over his karate, and some secretly and jealously hoping to see my big shot dad get his ass handed to him. The karate man asked my father to throw a punch at him, and cockily promised he wouldn't hurt my old man when he countered it. Steamed by this gi wearing geek's machismo, and aware of how he blocked his punches after only an hour of passively watching while setting up for the show, my pop pivoted to his side and jabbed the karate man straight in the throat. The karate man dropped...right here..."

(Derelict taps his foot at an unmarked spot on the stage.)

"See, karate man only trained to block hooks and haymakers. If it was a strike coming straight for him, he didn't know what to do. His training, his muscle memory, and conditioned instinct betrayed him when something so untrained and raw tested it. After a few winded gasps and a brief intermission, the karate man came back on stage and continued the demonstration as if nothing had happened. The audience noticed though, and half of them didn't return after the brief break in action. Before you know it, the karate man was back at the Y plying his flawed trade to a new generation of latchkey kids who just aren't big, strong, or street wise enough to pick up the natural intuition of fighting. After that all went down I asked my old man to teach me how to fight. He taught me how to ball up my fist and tuck my thumb so that I wouldn't break it, and told me to figure out the rest on my own. It was the best advice he ever gave me. You see, a man with a master is always someone else's lesser. A man who dominates through sheer improvisation and survivalist mentality can conquer any army of students. I'm no one's master. I'm no one's student. My domain of combat has no rule book or step-by-step how to guide for dummies. You don't know what I'm going to do in that ring Graham, because I don't know either...until I'm doing it. My punches are ugly and wild, my kicks are unorthodox and imbalanced, and my offense relies on something you cannot counter; raw power. I'm uninhibited by the rules and regulations that have traumatized you to the point of uniform conformity. For me, there's nothing off limits so long as I think I can do it. No one's criticizing my form or technique because there is none present to scrutinize. No one claims to be an expert at how I function in the ring because I lack their restrictive discipline. You're not going to find my name on a dojo wall, or on some sensei's list of alumni. What you will find is a path of destruction in my wake, two title reigns to my name, and a list of victims and broken spirits worthy of Hall of Fame induction if their peers are to be believed."

(Derelict stares coldly at the spot in the stage where his father fell a black belt with a simple jab. He tilts his head as he studies the nondescript spot, as if seeking to gain a new knowledge from it.)

"I don't do what I do to please or impress anyone. Quite the contrary, I do this because I wish to show the world the monster society has created. I do it to show status, money, women, none of it matters if you run up on someone bigger and hungrier than you. My father wasn't an important man. He never left his home town to travel the world or find love for another culture, but he brought a black belt to his knees because he was smarter. He did that without having any of the advantages that genetics graced me with. He was 5'8'', in shape but not a muscle man, and never trained in any combat sport or discipline. To a hundred people, he's a legend. To the rest of the world? a nobody. Just some working class schlub with an inflated sense of self that drove him to work himself into an early retirement. You know something? that's who he is. Odds are that's who I'll be with this wrestling thing, but the fact remains that he didn't step into some black belt's dojo and knock him down a peg just like I didn't show up in Strong Style Wrestling and take you out. You? the karate man with a pretty black belt? you came to us. You came into our territory, mocked us, and now just like Sensei YMCA, I'm going to bring you to your knees for your hubris."

(Derelict hops up off of the stage and scoops his bindle back up and slings it back over his shoulder. After taking one last half-disgusted/half-nostalgic look around at his surroundings, he turns and begins walking away.)

"The only difference this time is that there's going to be more than a hundred people watching when I make a mockery of you and your life's work."

(As The Derelict walks off screen the camera zooms in on the stage, focusing on that nondescript spot as the audio begins buzzing like tinnitus. Just as the camera begins to lose focus and the loud screeching sound becomes deafening, the camera cuts to black and all falls silent.)

VaeVictisBD and Aria Jaxon have spoken. It’s such good shit!

Re: OWA Promos October 23rd 2020, 11:29 am by **TTtheT**

Our scene starts in a spacious MMA gym with a twist. Noah Quinn stands in the middle of the room, but where punching bags and mats should be, weapons like chairs, baseball bats, and tables take their places.

Last Friday was...a trip. A successful trip, but a trip nonetheless. Eon took care of El Ironico. I feel bad for his balls, though. Some wild shit went down at the church, but we came out on top like we always do. I hope all that blood got cleaned off the floor. And Nobi wasn’t prepared for The Awakening. You can’t say that I didn’t give the poor guy warning. I told him exactly what was going to happen to him. But he still went into that match with the same happy little mindset. But hell, it wasn’t even any of us who took him down. It was Teddy Mac who dealt the crippling blow, putting Nobi right in position. A chairshot to the head turned out very convenient. Teddy put the poor guy on his knees, right in range of the top rope. Everyone expected some Awakening bullshit, but the Nice Guys were their own end. It’s good that Nobi is such a forgiving guy. I would be pissed too if the guy who’s supposed to on my side ended up being the one to screw me over and possibly cause brain damage. Meh. Nobi will get over it like he always does. I’m sure there’s another title shot around the corner for him soon enough. So that makes it two defences in the book. It’s been four weeks since I first won this title. Two show cycles have passed since that fateful day, and I’ve defended this title twice. Dominantly and easily both times. Along with helping my brothers in The Awakening take care of their respective opponents. Week after week, we show why we’re on top.

But I feel like OWA doesn’t want me as their TV champion. I’m wounded. At every opportunity, they try and wrench that title from my hands. Every single show, I’ve had to put this title on the line in some way. Are they not happy with their champion? Would they prefer the belt to be on someone else? I’m beginning to see that my theory might be true. Let’s go back and take a look at past TV champions. Layne Kurobane had a reign that lasted 139 days. How many times did he defend that? Once. One singular defence. Harman Ardelean’s reign lasted 70 days. And he lost it on his first defence. That means 70 days passed without a single defence from him. Now we look at my reign. 41 days. Two successful defences with a third on the way. Already, I’ve defended more than nine champions before me. NINE. IN 41 FUCKING DAYS. I feel like someone is trying to tell me something. Literally everything that OWA can throw has been thrown directly at me. But if I can keep this up, I truly believe that I can become the best TV champion of all time. Nobody believed that I could even hold this thing in the first place, and now that I have it, they’ll do anything to take it away. Is it because I haven’t been here for years? Is it because I’m part of The Awakening? I have to wonder why I’m unwanted as a champion. I’m everything you would ever want. I defend often. I’m a pretty competent wrestler. I defeated a legend in Finnegan Wakefield. But it is what it is. Don’t worry. Never fear. I’m going to take every single thing OWA throws at me, and I’ll come up on top. I’m going to defy the odds, and I’m going to win. It’s a shame that nobody wants to see me do it.

Which brings us to the latest match OWA has thrown at me. A deathmatch against Darkane. And The Awakening vs Phantom Troupe war continues. I think it’s safe to say that The Awakening is currently in the lead in that one. You might try and call us names. You might try to diminish our achievements like they’re nothing. But we’re in possession of two belts and counting. We’ve swept two Olympus’s in a row easily. We’re no longer ever rising. The Awakening is on the fucking top. And the Phantom Troupe? They’re on a losing streak. They lost a member in Stark. Hell, one of their members doesn’t even wrestle anymore. Their sad little ranks have dwindled down to just Darkane and Senn. They might have been all strong and mighty in the past. I’m sure they were. Long ago, they might have been the top acts of OWA. But the reality is that The Awakening is on top and the Phantom Troupe is nipping at our heels. But still, it’s not even being called a contest. People deny the accomplishments of The Awakening and gloss over the failures of the Phantom Troupe. They can't stand to see their favorite bad guys be seen for what they are. Darkane, the time of your Phantom Troupe has passed, and the era of The Awakening has just begun. Let's take a look at what they used to be. Four members strong. Darkane, Senn, Doe and Stark. It seems like only two remain. Darkane and Senn are the only in ring members left. But those two are still being considered higher than your TV champion and erm...your OHC in spirit. Those two left the thunderdome empty handed and disappointed, while Fiora walked out with the belt. The Phantom Troupe is not only a shadow of its former self, but the weakest faction in OWA. Things are only getting worse for them. I don't know who this new member could be, but I think that the Troupe is past redemption. Nothing can drag them from this downhill spiral that they're going down. But while the Troupe flounders, The Awakening only grows stronger and stronger. Already, we run OWA. We're in the heads of every single wrestler on Olympus. Our belt count grows and grows. We're already the main attraction on Olympus, and we're only getting started. Despite all the factors against us. Despite all the people trying to bring us down, The Awakening stands tall.

But I guess it's your lucky day, Darkane. A deathmatch? I wonder who was the one who set that one up? I'm sure you're rubbing your hands evilly right now. I'm sure you're prepared to send me to an early grave for this belt. The deathmatch specialist Darkane, challenging the unaware Noah Quinn for his title. I know what you're ready to do to me, Darkane. I've seen all those violent things you've done. I've seen what you do to people in your way. I've seen the aftermath of people you cripple, murder and send to hospital. I guess a normal person would be a little scared. I'm about to walk into the graveworm's territory with my belt on the line. But it's a good thing that I don't value my life as much as I should. I'm ready to play your game, Darkane. I'm ready to be beaten into a pulp and stand back up again. I'm going to take every single fucking thing you throw at me and eat it. Try anything you want, but the only way you take the TV title off of me is if you pry it out of my cold dead hands. And I don't plan on dying just yet. I know you'll try your best to end my short life early. Hell, an outsider to this business would say that you have a pretty good chance of doing so. But the end of my life won't come from the hands of Darkane. I truly believe that I can do anything with The Awakening on my side. Some would call it delusional, but you've seen the results for yourself. But I'm sure you're still feeling confident. There's no excuses. No reason at all for you to lose. We're on your fucking turf. All this violence is right down your alley. Hell, OWA might as well have handed you the title wrapped in a bow. But they have no idea what I'm made of. I'm sure the higher-ups think that they have an idea here. The perfect plan to take this title away from me. But I know I can bounce back from whatever the fuck happens to me in that ring. I'm the TV champion for a reason. Do your worst Darkane, and I'll hit you two times harder. Kill me, and Fiora will somehow find a way to bring my corpse back to life. The ball is in your court. I'm sure it'll be in your court for most of the match. You'll do whatever the fuck you want to do to me...except pin me. Give out all the abuse you want. But you won't pin me. You won't wrench this title out of my hands. Believe it or not, whether it be on a stretcher, a wheelchair or on my own two feet, I'll be leaving Olympus STILL the TV champion. Because no matter what you think you can do to me, I've taken worse. I've felt every single level of pain out there, whether it be in a ring or out of one. I'm going to take every single fucking thing you do to me, but it'll never be enough.

But that would also involve trusting your own evaluation of self. Darkane, you are not the man you think you are. I see it in your walk. I see it when you move. You still have that stone cold fire in your eyes. The passion for inflicting pain. But the body doesn't follow suit. Time has taken a toll on you. All the beatings. All the deathmatches. But you still see yourself as the Darkane of years past. You still think that you can keep up with the legends of today. But I know when I swing a chair into your skull, it hurts a little more than it did a year ago. Or five years ago. Or ten years ago. But you keep doing what you're doing because you refuse to quit. The mind is there, but the body is just hanging by a thread. Hit me with all you got, and I will stand up. I'll stand up and expose you for who you really are. The Darkane of old is gone forever, and we all see it but you. We can see the violent acts. The sadistic passion for inflicting suffering. And I can't deny that you're still a formidable threat to my title. I'm sure you see yourself as even more than that. But you are not enough. You'll never be enough again, and when I walk into your territory, I'll show the world that Darkane is not the standard for violence. Noah Quinn is. I'm going into your turf. You've participated in deathmatch after deathmatch. You've committed unspeakable acts that crippled people for life. This should just be another walk in the park. A casual stroll through a hell scattered with chairs, tables and whatever we can get our hands on. We're in your world, and everything is on the line for ME. The world is watching. Anxious to see the great Darkane do what he does best. But you will fail. Cracks in the foundation will lead to your fucking end. I'm going to destroy you at your own game at any means. What they will see will be the beginning of the end for you and your Phantom Troupe. Another loss courtesy of The Awakening. An MMA specialist, knocking out the graveworm on his home turf. A battered old man, sent to his grave by the future. The world wants to see me fail. But I refuse to just lie down and accept my fate. It began at Game Over. And destroying the deathmatch master Darkane at his own game will just be a chapter in my legacy as the TV champion.

Like it or not, I am the modern day success story.

The scene fades to black as Noah stares into the camera.

Re: OWA Promos October 23rd 2020, 2:29 am by **DampshawIIIఒ**

Have I truly gone mad? Have I gone the way people think I have? Because I could swear when I was told what my next match was, I was told it was me vs. Shaker Jones. Shaker Jones. SHAKER JONES?!? This is a joke, yes? A prank pulled on me by the higher ups. Atlantis is a circus show filled with freaks and oddities, but why? Why Shaker Jones? Look at the man. He’s an idiot. He can barely formulate two sentences to save his life. I find this to be the most egregious example of bad booking so far. Tag team matches? Fine. Tag team matches with women? I’ll deal with it. But this? No. This is too far. The only silver lining is that I get to throw this little pillock around.

He calls himself the…”Punk Rock Country Boy”.. Euugh..Even thinking about that moniker makes me ill. Listen, Shaker. You didn’t make it in that other place and you’re going to make nothing of yourself here. You had the audacity, the temerity to walk your idiot self into my office and insinuate that I would even humour the idea of giving you a chance on my show. Well you know what? How about this? When I defeat you in our match, which I will, if after the bell rings, you’re able to leave the ring on your own two feet, I’ll consider giving you something to do on Kingdom. Because anyone who can leave without medical aid after fighting me is tough. Anyone who leaves relatively unscathed after battling one on one against has something that I can use. But do I think you have that, Shaker? Hahahaha absolutely not. I will give you this chance but it really is a trillion to one.

Honestly I have better things to worry about then soiling the ring with your blood. I’m going to be at ringside on Kingdom to see Samuel Ogden face Oliver Harpe. I was very impressed with Ogden’s actions after the tag match we were a part of and I fully believe he will eviscerate Oliver. Elijah Hampton and Shea Flaherty are going to go one on one to see who may get a shot for the vacant Openweight Championship. Maverick and Abholos of The Ashes of The Wake may very well become the new OWA World Tag Team Champions, which is something I obviously do not want. So tell me, Shaker. Why in the hell should I care about this match. I’ve always said I never overlook any of my opponents but you? You’re nothing. You’re lower than a worm. And I’m sure you’re going to have the crowd behind you since we’ll be in Kentucky, a land full of slack-jawed yokels like yourself, even though you’re from Boston, you moron. But that isn’t going to matter. No audience support, training or mental preparation is going to be enough. I am going to break your legs. Then, once you’re no longer able to walk, I will tear your arms off. I’ll take your arms and feed them to the crows. Without arms and legs, you will be able to only lie there. Then, I’ll rip your ears off. No legs. No arms. No ears. Then I will take your eyes. You are going to be living in eternal darkness. I am going to steal your sight. Your mind will be all you will have left. But in the end, I’m going to take that as well. Does that make you sad? Does that make you feel lonely? If I take your mind, I’ll also take any feelings you have of sadness and loneliness. So even though I despise you and the very essence of your existence, I will do you a favour. That’s just the kind of fair ruler I am. “Therefore, in emptiness: there is no matter, no sensation, recognition, volition or consciousness, no eye, ear, nose, tongue, body, or mind, no sight, sound, scent, taste, tangibles, or dharma, no field of the eye up to no field of mental consciousness, no suffering, no cause of suffering, no ending of suffering, and no path, no wisdom and also no attainment. Because there is nothing obtainable.”

I know you could never understand this, Shaker. Because your puny little mind could never comprehend even a sliver of what that means. By taking these things away from you, I am giving you so much more. Worth more than any opportunity on Kingdom. I’m giving you the chance of rebirth, Shaker. Because Shaker Jones means nothing. The name *and* the man. Again, you’re worth less than the dirt but that’s now. You could be more, but that’s on you. I don’t believe you’ll be grateful for this opportunity and if you’re not, your entire world is going to crumble beneath you. I promise you that.

Aria Jaxon has spoken. It’s such good shit!

Re: OWA Promos October 22nd 2020, 10:06 pm by **J.D. Damon**

Drake and Damon Wrestling School. Portland, Oregon. Our scene is set. We find our hero, er, excuse me, our champion, sitting in the office of the school. An expensive desk is placed against the wall in front of the door with a black leather chair behind said desk. J.D. Damon leans back in the chair with his feet upon the desk. What is sitting on the desk, you ask? The OWA Spartan Championship. The center plate of the belt shines in the light. Damon cocks his eyes over at the belt, with a gleeful grin upon his face. His face? Bandaged and bruised from the all out war against Arata Asakura. A war that he was able to successfully win single handedly.

You know… think what you want about me. Think what you want in regards to my wrestling career. Think whatever the fuck you want. I’m just here to tell each and every one of you… I… Told… You… So.

Damon grabs the belt from the desk and tosses it over his left shoulder. He takes a quick glance at the belt.

So… this is what it’s like, eh? This is what it’s like to be a champion. It’s been a while. A long while to be completely honest with you. The last time I was able to have a piece of championship gold in my grasp, was when I beat the newly appointed Olympus General Manager, Aren Mstislav, four or five years ago. I nearly forgot what it feels like to be a champion. The adrenaline running through your veins, through your body. The electricity coursing through your blood stream. The… target that is placed on your back. Nothing I can’t handle. I mean, I beat the “great and powerful” Arata Asakura for Christ’s sake. Something that everyone told me that I couldn’t do. Something that everyone told me was impossible. Well, that’s what I do best. What one person calls impossible, I call… easy. I told you, Arata. I told you at Game Over what I was going to do. I told you during the weeks building up to our epic re-match on Kingdom what I was going to do. And guess what?! I did it. I ripped this belt, this title, from your greasy fucking fingers. And I did it with ease. Sure, I may be beat up, bruised, but all of that comes with the territory. I told you I am not someone who is going to back down from a fight. When I have my sights set on something - my sights set on something that should have been mine to begin with - I will go to Hell and back to make sure I bring it back with me. Which is exactly what I did. Let me ask you, Arata.. how does it feel? How does it feel waking up the next morning following Kingdom knowing that you are no longer a champion. That you are now nothing more than a fucking peasant in J.D. Damon’s Kingdom? I bet it felt like someone kept punching you over and over in the stomach, right? I bet it felt like it was some sort of nightmare that you couldn’t wake yourself up from. Unfortunately for you, this isn’t a nightmare, Arata. There’s no waking up from this. This is your new reality. And all that is left to do for you, Arata, is to get down on your knees and bow before the new King of Kingdom.

Damon winks at the camera.

I don’t need to waste my breath or my time on your anymore, Arata. You are old news. Or… at least that’s what I thought. This weekend on Atlantis, I face my first of what will be many challengers for my belt. Ryo Sakazaki. Another eager Front Line soldier. Eager to finally get his opportunity at championship gold. Eager to finally - FINALLY - wrestle during the main event of a show. Congratulations, Ryo. But, you better put the cork back in that champagne bottle. There won’t be any celebrating for you or your little Front Line buddies. Because regardless of you think or say, there’s no way in the HELL this belt is going anywhere. Not today, not tomorrow, this weekend… NOT EVER! I have worked my fucking ass off for far too long to get to where I am today to let some jackass such as yourself come along and snatch it away from me.

Do you even realize, Ryo, just who in the hell I am?! I am J.D. fucking DAMON! Do yourself a favor and when addressing me, put some goddamn respect in your voice, son. The way that you talked about me… is that how you address your new King?! Is that how you address YOUR champion?! No. Not at all. And since you will obviously refuse to respect me, I will make sure to beat some respect into your ass. You see, I listened to what you had to say about me, Ryo. I heard you loud and clear. You want to impress your little buddy Arata by annihilating the big, bad J.D. Damon. You want to raise this title high above your head and finally get the fame and glory that you have been seeking for your entire pathetic career. Good luck with that, Ryo. Let me know how all of that goes for you after I’m through with you.

You talked an awful lot of shit during your little promo, Ryo. Talking about your first defense as Spartan Champion. Excuse me?! Now, I’m not a psychiatrist or a social worker by any means, but I am pretty positive that you need help regarding your mental health. You go on and on about defending a title that will NEVER be yours. You’ve probably been walking around your shithole of a house with a cardboard championship belt pretending to be the Spartan Champion - pretending to be me. Honestly? That’s pretty creepy. I’ll let you in on a little secret, Ryo. That cardboard makeshift championship belt that you most likely wear around your waist while sleeping at night? That’s the closest you will ever - EVER - get to the real Spartan Championship belt, because I will be damned if I lose it this quick to a pathetic worm such as yourself.

You go on to talk about how unlike me, you were unsuccessful during your title match against Arata earlier this year that you were “too short to box with God.” Really, Ryo? In that statement it sounds like you were referring Arata to God. No, no, no. Arata was a mediocre champion… at best. So, when you were given these little title opportunities against him, that means that you were less than mediocre. That means that you were placed in front of Arata so that he could have some easy title defenses. Plain and simple. You really want to box with God, Ryo? Luckily with you, my demented friend, you will be given that opportunity this week. Because if you are going to call ANYONE God - then I am the man to be called just that.

You want to talk about spoiler alerts like you are the Wish.com version of J.D. Damon? Well, let me tell you a fucking spoiler alert of my own. This match of ours? Is going to be a breeze; a fucking walk in the park if you will. For me at least. I have faced men far greater than you could ever imagine of being, and I have come out on top every single time. So, when I am placed against you? What makes you think that the outcome is going to be any different? That’s because it’s not! This match is going to be your ten minutes of fame, Ryo, and I am going to be the man… no! FUCKING MONSTER that makes you famous. But, not famous in a good way. I am going to make you famous for being not only my first execution that attempted to take away my belt, but also famous for being the man who fell victim the fastest.

You see... the J.D. Damon that you faced in that Free-for-All fuckery match at Game Over? Kiss that J.D. Damon goodbye. Because that motherfucker is dead. R.I.P. The J.D. Damon that beat Arata Asakura's ugly face in two weeks ago on Kingdom? The J.D. Damon that overcame all of the fucking odds and ripped this belt - MY BELT - from Arata's lifeless fingers? That's the motherfucker that you are facing. A motherfucker who gives zero fucks what he does to his opponent. ZERO! A motherfucker who will do what he has to do to make sure this belt stays in Wolvesden. A motherfucker that is hell-bent on ruling this entire God forsaken company with his FAMILY with an iron fist. My first step? Solidifying my title reign with a SWEET victory over the young and naïve Ryo Sakazaki. The "Invincible Dragon?" Let's see how invincible you truly are, because from what I've seen... there's nothing special about you, Ryo. Nothing at all.

And when I am finished with you, Ryo... when I throw you out of the ring like the bag of garbage that you are... I will let my wolves finish you off.

How's that for a spoiler alert?

Wolves aeternum.

Aria Jaxon has spoken. It’s such good shit!

Re: OWA Promos October 22nd 2020, 4:32 pm by **Darkane**

Do any of you know what it means when you’re born astride the grave?

It means we’re all dying the minute we are born.

Some might attribute that train of thought to individuals who are unhappy or generally cynical towards society’s traditions and ideals but what they don’t wanna accept is that it’s the truth, it’s the cold hard fucking truth that everyone tries to dilly dally around more often than not. Time doesn’t stop for anybody, it only stops for the dead. When I was forked out of the womb due to an emergency botched c-section while my mother drained gallons of blood in between the cracks of a sidewalk on top of a manhole cover I kinda knew then and there that I wasn’t put on this earth to do good. I was supposed to be something kept in the boiling furnace of hell. Even as her fallopian tubes had me in a rear-naked chokehold like the tentacles of Cthulhu itself, I still managed to survive but I’m telling you this; hell did everything in its power to try and keep me from being birthed into this world. I was hell’s top priority, I was their prized possession, and no, this isn’t a random epiphany, this wasn’t a situation where I thought life was passing before my eyes. I.E: Nate Cage. I was smoking doobies with Lucifer himself before it was fucking cool.

Be that as it may, I find myself in a bit of a conundrum lately, no thanks to overblown shitcunts like Graham Baker who decided it was in his best interest to pull the plug when he took a shortcut down pussy avenue and used my jorts for leverage even though I could have sworn he wanted an all-out bloodbath or at least that’s the picture he surely painted. Talk about a false advertisement. Talk about damaged goods. He’s all foam and no beer. There’s nothing he could possibly do to erase the stigma that’s already attached to him like a fucking tumor weeks into his OWA career. So naturally, I took out my vexations on his old corsair running buddy and smacked the frost off of Noah’s tips with my shovel.

Everything has a consequence because everything is branched together one way or another.

What it boils down to is a failure to meet expectations. I was expecting a fastball and I got hoodwinked by a soft serve eephus pitch from Graham Baker and now Noah Quinn must suffer because of it. A future shoo-in World Champion one day must pay the piper in my fucking playground and for what? It’s not his fault I lost to Graham Baker. It’s not his fault that I ate the pin in the Thunderdome. It’s not his fault that I lost to that dingo fister Keelan days before Game Over on Olympus. He had nothing to do with any of it.

But somebody has to deal with the repercussions.

Somebody has to be the object of my ire.

That somebody is Noah Quinn

And believe me, I don’t know what the fuck they were thinking. A deathmatch is no place for a bright-eyed fawn like yourself. This is too much, it’s not salvageable, it’s not safe, it’s not the way you want this to go down, Noah. And yet, it’s perfect; hell, it’s divine. This is your chance to step out of your comfort zone. I mean just think of the possibilities here, think of the acclaim, think of the star power you would immediately gain by slaying the charred dragon with ten thousand fucking scales that breathes hellfire before you. Think about it long and hard, believe in yourself, believe in everything that brought you to the dance before I reduce you to ash in a nanosecond. I know, I know, pride comes before the fall, I get it, it’s admirable but Noah, you’re not cut out for deathmatches. It’s not part of your makeup, it’s not your calling card, it’s your fucking death warrant, signed sealed, and delivered in your blood. This realm you dare enter is my domain. This is the essence that makes me whole, this is the personification of everything that is impure and fucking evil of which I represent and I will not hesitate to harness said impurity and evil and use it to destroy a young prodigy in over his head. I don’t think you understand the severity of the situation. I don’t think you knew what you were doing when you decided to throw a pebble into that dark cave out of sheer curiosity. Oh, nothing will happen you’ll say, it’s just a cave! I wouldn’t dare tempt fate and put my Television Title on the line knowing full well that something is in that yawning cave, past the stalagmites, past the bones of ancient prey and into the teeth of the one man, who quite frankly you shouldn’t fuck with, a man who is unhinged and on edge as is. I mean clearer heads will prevail right, you’ll convince yourself. I’m gonna be okay right? He’s just a figment of my imagination right? There’s no chance I relinquish my TV title to a wretched hobo with the fetid stench of booze radiating off of his tongue and piss streaming down his leg right?

Wrong.

Never judge a book by its cover, that’s lesson numero uno. There’s more than meets the eye, you’ve seen it yourself, you’ve been in the ring with me when The Phantom Troupe ran the fuck through Chaos Elite a few months back, right then and there I knew how brittle the bones were of Noah Quinn and Eon Blue. I knew right then and there that Chaos Elite panic in the face of adversity. Sure, John Doe came down and speared the guts out of Eon but that’s no different than what The Awakening has been doing in recent weeks. You live by the sword and you die by the sword, Noah. That’s lesson number two. Everything you do is under a microscope. Which is why I question your asterisk laden reign in the first place, it’s based entirely on fuckery and dumb luck. Especially at Game Over where Finnegan clearly made Eon tap the fuck out, but due to the ref being on dream street, you picked at the corpse of your tag partner and had no problem flaunting it in his face thereafter. Do you honestly believe Eon is in your corner for the long run? How much further will he roll out the red carpet while you reap the successes in spite of him? Everybody knows he’s an envious cuck underneath the surface, even Stevie Wonder can see he’s smiling through gritted teeth.

What about last week when you were pitted against Mr. Fluff aka I-can’t-say-Nobi? The match was an entire clusterfuck and an utter waste of everyone’s time from the get-go, your Awakening brethren didn’t take long to intervene; sticking their noses where they didn’t belong and if it wasn’t for the sheer stupidity on The Nice Guys part then you’d be up shits creek without a paddle and looking at a new Television Champion, but I guess you’ll do anything under the sun to keep the belt these days, even though I vividly remember before Fiora’s influence came into the picture you were bitching up a storm over getting screwed overtime after time or whatever self-loathing hodgepodge why-can't-things-go-my-way bullshit you lectured me on back in August. Fast forward two months later and ironically enough you suddenly don’t mind getting your hands dirty at the cost of maintaining the status quo. It’s funny when a douchebag with an apparent God complex takes you under his wing, not to nurture you, not to mold you but to use you like a fucking tampon. That’s exactly what Nathan Fiora is doing. But he isn’t going to have a chance to run you into the ground, not before I do. Whether you want to admit it or not, there’s a common theme in your title bouts.

You can’t do it alone.

But Darkane! I beat Shaker Jones and Cameron Reckless! I barely broke a sweat in that one!

Two useless tomato cans who are so far down the anal cavity of OWA that even Mark Michaels is laughing from his perch. I want to see what you can do on your lonesome against a legitimate threat. I’ll even keep the rest of the Phantom Troupe in the back but I’ll tell you this much, The Awakening won’t save you from the desolation that awaits you, you’ll need a fucking army, understand? Remember, you mutually joined The Awakening because you sucked more ass than a bus seat, not because they threw you a life raft. You even told Nobi yourself last week, that the reason for The Awakening’s existence is because you couldn't achieve success on your own. Think about that Noah; that’s fucking pitiful. A collection of delusional fuckwits whose careers collectively bombed as individuals decided to form a for-the-hell-of-it coalition as means to put lipstick on a pig but you can’t pull the wool over everyone’s eyes and you sure as hell can’t disguise your incompetence anymore. The fact that your leader still runs around like a spastic mongoloid who somehow escaped from licking windows and drawing imaginary stick figure families on the wall of his asylum room declares himself World Champion even though everybody and their mother knows he couldn’t sniff World Championship Gold if somebody vomited it onto his face tells me everything I need to know. The Awakening are a collection of fraudulent reprobates who have gotten away with too much for too long.

It’s about time somebody drives a stake into their hearts and give them a dose of reality.

I’m just the man to do it.

I will resurrect the Television Title to heights that even Finnegan Wakefield couldn’t dream of achieving because as is, in its current state it’s held by somebody who is not only incapable but desperate to keep his head above water and when you’re a desperate champion, you’ll do desperate things like making mistakes. You have no room for error when your blood is seeping from my grizzled hands while I rip the wolf hide off of the sheep and expose you for what you really are - a lost soul guided by a lost soul and do you know where I keep the souls of who I ravaged?

In the grave.

Alone.

With the dirt.

With the maggots.

Without The Awakening to guide you forth, no Eon, no Fiora, no Micheals, and most importantly.

No TV title.

VaeVictisBD, Aria Jaxon and Noah Reigner have spoken. It’s such good shit!

Re: OWA Promos October 22nd 2020, 1:17 pm by **DarkCircle**

{Scene Start: We are once more sitting in Ryo's living room, the young Japanese-American is sitting in the room's sole chair with his muscular forearms resting on his knees as he looks over towards the camera with a thoughtful expression}

"There are a great many misconceptions about me that I feel are going around. One of them is that I hold some kind of "grudge", for the lack of a better word, against Arata simply based on some of the things that I've said about him in the recent past."

"No, if there was a real problem between Arata and myself, then I could've very easily taken him out during our tag match a couple of weeks back. No, Arata understands what the spirit of competition is all about and he'd be the first one to tell people that he was constantly trying to get me to improve, to become stronger and more fierce in that ring the only way that he knew how and I can respect that, because despite what everyone sees with the money and the fanciful locations...at the core of what you see in the in-between of the matches, I'm still at the very core of my being one of the most skilled wrestlers in the Omega Wrestling Alliance, hands down."

"But that does not mean that I'm walking around here expecting title matches, no. Unlike some wrestlers that happen to join this company in recent times, I plan on showing each and every week why I should be given these shots and prove the front office right when they hand one down and sometimes I'll win and sometimes I'll lose, but in the end I grow and I adapt and I become stronger."

"Just like our new Spartan champion, J.D. Damon."

{Ryo chuckles for a moment before he leans back in his chair, all the while keeping his attention focused on the camera in front of him}

"Earlier this year, he came back to the Omega Wrestling Alliance and then got drafted to Kingdom. He fought hard to prove that he belonged right here in the OWA and sure enough, but most important of all he came in not thumping that tired old drum that he should be a champion from the moment someone said go, no...he earned that shit and that has got more respect from me than anything else to say the least."

"But also by that same token, I also know that I'm his first opponent right out of the gate, and as such he'll fight more like a devil to keep that title firmly around his waist and that I can respect as well because I'm not looking for an easy fight, I fully expect to have each and every breath of fresh air into my lungs on Atlantis to come with that painful exhale reminder of what he can do when everything is said and done."

{Ryo's smile gets even bigger}

"I'm actually looking forward to it. Because I'm not going to make your first title defense easy for you, J.D. You can say whatever you want about me, you can say that every time I went for the title against Arata that I came up short because I'm too short to box with god or some shit like that, the only claim that I'm making going into this match is that by the time it is over that you will be looking at your new Spartan champion and I won't make some kind of grandiose statement like I'll be the "Savior" or that I will remake the division in my image or anything like that."

"Fuck that noise."

"No, what I'll be doing is I'll be taking that title right down there with me into those fucking trenches because I'm still going to be fighting alongside Jeff and Arata against the Ashes of the Wake and I'll be doing that while also being a fighting champion. And if I lose my title in my first defense, then so fucking be it because while I look the sort to sit on some high horse like where a lot of you have been prior to the start of the OWA, the only high horse that I'll be sitting on is what kind of imported fucking beer that I'll be drinking after the match is said and done!"

{The smile disappears from Ryo's face as he leans forward, the fire in his eyes is clear as ever}

"I am something all together different than what you're used to facing lately, Damon. I'm the guy who fully knows what failure looks like and yet that still doesn't stop me from my belief in de Wille zur Macht, the Will to power, and that is because I grasp these two things means that at Atlantis while you're coming down to the ring thinking that I'm going to possibly be an easy fight for you...the look on your face when I tear *MY* Spartan championship from your still cooling and twitching fingers will be worth more to me than anything else in the entire world because just like you said to Arata not so long ago;"

"It's not a threat, J.D."

"It's not a guarantee, nor is it a promise..."

"It's a motherfucking SPOILER ALERT!"

{Ryo then slowly gets up and the camera tracks him as he moves, standing fully straight with a confident smile on his face, but the fire burning in his eyes shows a different thing all together}

"So come to Atlantis, Damon, come and step foot into your own personal edition of Hell's Kitchen because I'm calling my shot, pure and simple, and there is no way in the bluest of blue hells are you going to be walking out of that arena with your head held high, because I fully intend to have blasted it off of your fool shoulders as proof that you're not any kind of "Savior"...but just a man, and man is fallible."

"This isn't pride nor arrogance that I'm speaking from, or some high horse...no, Damon. See you on Saturday."

{The screen fades to black}

Re: OWA Promos October 22nd 2020, 1:50 am by **The Banshee**

Atlantis Promo

There Can Be Only One...

The camera opens up inside a cabin, lined with rotted, dark wood and clumps of spiderwebs. A large grandfather clock stood against the wall, next to a boarded-up broken window. A small lantern stood atop a small end-table, which laid on the opposite side of the window, illuminating the room. The grandfather clock begins to chime, although the clock’s face is broken, faded, and missing the hour hand, making it impossible to know the time aside from the obvious night sky that peeked through the slits in the wood and window. As the chiming concludes, the cabin quickly fills up with fog. Moments later, the fog quickly retreats as fast as it entered, revealing Morrighan McDonnell standing in front of the clock. The camera zooms in on her face, her sinister voice beginning to speak.

“There should no longer be any doubt… there is only one opponent worthy of challenging Alyssa Grace for the Goddesses Championship at Civil War… that opponent, of course, is Morrighan McDonnell... or rather, The Banshee... We… no, I and I alone, demolished Anaheim’s Fallen Angel, Rebecca Brookes, all without relying upon my darker half… Why did I choose to do this? The answer should be obvious… even without the Banshee, Morrighan McDonnell is still a very formidable force in the ring… so imagine just how unstoppable the Banshee will be against you, Alyssa Grace… You appear to be getting more and more nervous now, and rightfully so… that belt is on borrowed time, because it already belongs to us… So Alyssa, put your ego in check for once, and finally do the right thing... by demanding Viola DeMarco to solidify this match, because it’s not only what we want… it’s not only what the fans want… it’s also, deep down, exactly what you want, because you haven’t been challenged like this before. Sure, you won the title on the grandest stage of them all, had a cavalcade of many impressive title defenses, and you even retired a bona-fide legend… but for all your accomplishments, you have yet to truly face such an unstoppable force of evil like the Banshee… Don’t let Ms. DeMarco’s conspiracy against us fool you, as it continues to fool so many others… any of our so-called “losses” since the start of summer are more than questionable to anyone with a set of working eyeballs… And no, our little recent “tag-team” exhibition on Atlantis doesn’t count as a true win over us, since that worthless idiot we were given for a tag partner practically handicapped us… but nevertheless, we still made our intentions known…”

Morrighan proceeds to walk over to a wooden rocking chair sitting over in the corner, the camera panning over to follow her as she takes a seat, humming a mysterious tune to herself. Morrighan slowly starts rocking back and forth, looking at an empty fireplace that entered the screen from the left. The fireplace suddenly lights up brightly, Morrighan leaning towards it a bit before refocusing her gaze on the camera.

“Rebecca Brookes, you should feel rather proud of your efforts… but also you have hopefully realized just how futile it is to think that anyone can stop us… You are much tougher than we originally gave you credit for, though… It’s not often we walk away impressed... However, your defeat helped us illustrate our point clearly: only one deserves the opportunity to challenge Alyssa for the title, and we emphatically made our case too compelling to ignore… But sadly, that’s exactly what we expect will happen, since Viola DeMarco is such a wicked and corrupt GM who doesn’t know how to properly utilize Odyssey’s top talent... What was our reward for achieving victory? Being left off the Odyssey card once again, as Viola instead gives away our deserved spotlight to a bunch of unproven rookies and newcomers… is Ms. DeMarco allergic to making money? Instead, we’ve been booked in some ridiculous “consolation match” on Atlantis, but we’ll get to that travesty in a moment…”

“Let’s examine another, so-called “contender” for our property… Gwen Harper… What did this bitch do to “prove” herself worthy? She certainly shouted loud from the mountaintops that she was better than us, but let’s review exactly what she did, or in this case, “didn’t” do… That’s right, all she did was stand around in the ring, likely recovering from her daily hangover, while her opponent, Viola DeMarco’s personal sex-toy, otherwise known as Odyssey’s Biggest Has-Been, Natalie Cage, rightfully got her ass kicked backstage by some perverse and twisted version of the Spice Girls, a group whose antics we do appreciate, even though we dislike the lot of them… Gwen could’ve taken some action… she had the opportunity to heroically charge in and save the day… but all she did was scowl and bark, like an old, cowardly junkyard dog too scared to even chase squirrels… Some hunter she is… But guess how Viola “rewards” her? Gwen gets to come on Atlantis… MY SHOW… but she's not there to fight, oh no… instead, that redneck cunt just gets to sit back and sip on some disgusting American beer with… Jeff X? Why? Does she think rubbing elbows with some “5-minute champ” will make her championship material by proxy? What are they even gonna talk about? How great the orgy was at their last family reunion? Gwen Harper, how does all this contrived bullshit prove your “worth?” Last time we checked, this is a wrestling organization, not some beer-drinking contest, you stupid backwoods, toothless slut!”

“So… while Gwen Harper gets drunk with her possible boyfriend/half-brother, an event that OWA is… quite hilariously... promoting as something that fans would ACTUALLY pay money to see… the real draw of the night will be happening beforehand, as we annihilate the Infernal Bitch, Udy, or whatever the hell he wants to call himself… Many have falsely claimed that we are very similar “entities” in the OWA... but that couldn’t be further from the truth: he’s nothing more than a sheep that wants to run amongst the wolves. From what we seen, he’s more a threat to himself than others, especially based on his involvement in preventing Havoc from rightfully claiming the GM chair on Kingdom against that less-derving, talentless meatsack Reginald Dipshit the Third last month at GameOver… despite the fact he was “supposedly” trying to prove his own worth to Havoc... that mindless moron desperately trying to join Havoc’s new Halloween “Boy Band,” the Ashes of the Wake… What a sad fucking goal to have, especially when there are titles to be won… glory to be gained… blood to be spilt…”

“Speaking of bloodshed... *sarcastically* “Oh Infernal One,” be ready to lose your blood by gallons! Unbeknownst to you, this match gives us a unique opportunity to once again show the entire planet why we… and we alone... deserve our opportunity to rightfully fight for the Goddesses Championship at Civil War… Those other bitches may say we have no right to it… but the simple truth is this: we have the ONLY RIGHT to claim it… It’s already our property, after all… IT BELONGS TO US! It’s just a matter of semantics that Alyssa Grace still keeps it around her waist, but even she knows that she’s just holding on to the property of the Banshee… Udy, you claim to be this unstoppable monster, but you’ve become nothing more than a laughing stock… a “parody” of what a monster should be…”

Morrighan stands up, grabs the rocking chair she was sitting on, and throws it directly into the fireplace, the shattered wood quickly becoming engulfed by the flames. Morrighan than throws out her arms and lets out a large shriek, which causes the fire and the lights to go out. The darkened interior is barely visible, but Morrighan’s figure can still be seen. The lights then flicker back on, showing the Banshee now standing in Morrighan’s place, arms still outstretched, an angry expression frozen on her face. The Banshee let’s out a bloodcurdling wail, which causes the lights to flicker back off. The lights stay off, as the figure walks back in front of the grandfather clock, which is difficult to see in the obscuring shadows. Morrighan’s voice is suddenly heard, although it’s not clear where it’s coming from, as it sounds very distorted and low.

“The Infernal Bitch likes to call himself the “Cursed Crusader,” but the only thing he’s cursed at is trying to stay relevant as a midcard talent, knowing full well that the midcard is well above his talent level... Udy, you have no right to share the ring with “Odyssey’s Greatest Threat,” yet you still appear to be brazen enough to tangle with the most malevolent force in the OWA… You’re nothing more than a waste of our time and talent... but don’t worry, we’ll put you out of your misery faster than your last appearance on Atlantis... one that saw you tap out extremely quick… however, just because your misery will end quickly, doesn’t mean that... for you... things won’t end less painfully… On the contrary, you will be privy to a level of agony and punishment that you haven’t experienced before… You may claim to “enjoy” pain, but once we’re finished disposing of your useless corpse, the very “thought” of pain will make you physically ill… We possess the power to destroy far more intimidating foes than yourself… Your so-called high “threshold” for pain won’t save you from the torment that you will feel after we crack every bone in your body! We’ve traumatized monsters! We’ve mortified gods! We’ve frightened behemoths! You may bow before Havoc, but the Wraith of the Ring makes creatures like Havoc piss themselves with fear!”

“Alyssa Grace, the clock is ticking… tick… tock… tick… tock… the end of your reign draws near… But worry not, for we want you at your very best… We will continue to stalk you from the shadows, but you will not have to fear any attack from us… yet. As for anyone else that dares to consider herself a legit “contender” for our property… we will brutally maim and maliciously ravage your very souls should you speak out of turn… And to you, Viola DeMarco… there is no one on the roster more deserving of the Goddesses Championship than us… Do we have to continue to create “terrifying true tales of terror” for everyone to live through? Or will you finally do the right thing for once, and make Alyssa Grace vs. The Banshee for the Goddesses Championship official for Civil War? Here’s a final thought to help motivate your decision… What are nightmares to most people… are just great memories to us… and we’re always looking to create more “great memories.” Will you sign the match? Or would you prefer to become our next “great memory?”

The lights flicker on for a second, once again showing the Banshee standing in front of the grandfather clock. As the Banshee lets out a scream, the camera quickly zooms out, retreating out of the cabin, into the dark, foggy woods surrounding it. The camera continues to zoom out, the cabin quickly disappearing into the background before the screen becomes covered in fog. The feed then cuts to black, followed by a faint, sinister laugh.

Aria Jaxon has spoken. It’s such good shit!

Re: OWA Promos October 21st 2020, 10:10 pm by **Gwen Harper**

Kingdom Promo 1

Ignorance

Strange to know nothing, never to be sure

Of what is true or right or real,

The scene opens in a room full of books, stacks and random piles about the decently lit room. As the camera pans around we see Sam Ogden sitting at a desk, the desk is impeccably clean, only one book on it and a lamp. Sam has his head down reading the book. He sees the camera coming and places a bookmark in his place and closes the book before he begins speaking.

Growing up I was called different. Never seeing the world for what was about me as I struggled day and nightly to be heard by the masses, no, not the masses just by those before me. The ones who claimed to love me and never did I have the wits about me to say the words needed to be something they could understand. That all changed when I started reading, long after school had shown me the way, it took me moons over moons to raise my eyes to words and phrases of poets and scholars that saw the world through untainted eyes like mine. I was immersed in worlds and places, seeing faces unlike those that graced the world around me.

It took me knowing and learning these worlds to understand the world I was from and for that world to understand me. No longer shackled by the limited words of those who raised me I sought to be heard and be seen. Through these means did I learn the way of man, its glories and its fallacies. I understood reaction and emotion and was finally able to express myself to where the world about me was able to hear me, know me. My voice had meaning, I now knew right and wrong, real and fake, truth and lies. I found beauty in the world, and I found beauty in the physicality of that world. Violence is transcendence, words spoken by the placement of a hand to the flesh of a person instead of by the lips is profound. Art can be had in the struggle of the underdog and in the brutality of top echelon. So now not only words and phrases but fights and fists can bring forth my meanings and the world will understand it all.

Strange to be ignorant of the way things work:

Their skill at finding what they need,

Their sense of shape, and punctual spread of seed,

And willingness to change;

Yes it is strange,

Sam has come out from behind his desk now, walking to the front of it and leaning against it as he begins speaking again.

So too did I understand the meaning of the words spoken to me by a man I offered alliance. So in defiance he sought in glory to take the win from this horn of green for new blood should see the way veterans work. Yet in that moment he only brought tarnish to the late stages of a match held in the grips of the victorious and miscommunicating the intentions to his partner fell to the dawn rising from their slumber. Harpe you mistook me for a fools new model, I know that like youth I am new to the world but be assured I am no spring chicken when it comes to what needs to be done inside the circle of squares and be sure I saw, fleeting in your eyes any hint of trust you could muster. Let alone be bothered by the fact of the moment, the win in our fingers blown away by the bruised ego of a man who is lost. Payment then rendered, you were washed of your sins by the council who strangely allowed me to stay standing. They placed me between you and salvation and while they are no more than spit in a muckery, I knew that they left me to ponder the mystery. You see Oliver, it's not that I despise you, no I have no words yet to describe you. But I felt your intentions, your lack of understanding in the way this world works when backs are turned and moments cost. I decided to remind you I am no man's lackey and since you needed that reminder of spirit, I stomped your head down and implanted to you the knowledge you needed: That Sam Ogden was not here to be sullen and beaten but instead rise above all and deliver to the masses the beauty of this life and the art of the fight. Did you forget how this all works in your stupor? How when two go in as a team they must stay as a team to bring home the glory, but you, you needed to see that you were the better and because of it all we were left in the shadows.

So it fell upon me to do some reminding, that actions have consequences and repercussions. I could not let it slide that in my moment of arrival I was left soured by your actions and of your distractions through that fight. One that until the end had been seen as artful, left damaged and reduced to nothing more than scraps on the floor of a masters studio. Do you understand yet, that we had it all won, poised as I was to bring us home in glory? What sanctimonious reasons did you need to bother and end up nothing more than a hindrance? So to the gift of the chair that brought you some clarity I am thankful. You got the message and I know you understood its meaning, and now here we are, two weeks from the latter, and we get to bring to the ring our violence and thrashing. I kid you not, there will be a display of art to be seen. People will swoon at the bashing and be moved to their feet in the beauty of our battle.

Even to wear such knowledge - for our flesh

Surrounds us with its own decisions -

Ogden has started to move about the stacks of books around him as he continues to address the camera.

So now you understand that the words I am speaking have meaning. Oliver Harpe you are to be sundered, left broken and beaten down by the hands of your former partner. It took only one night of our teaming for me to see you for what you are. A Mere shadow of a man who once had a purpose, lost now in his own mind for fear of being forgotten. No bounty to be had for the fight you are in, I have rendered your need pointless. I have to accept that I am here to enlighten, to bring you a knowing you are ignorant of. You made a choice and so have I. You sought your vengeance at the cost of our victor. So now you will be put to the blade, and I will enlighten the world to why I am not to be crossed on such matters. All we had to do was walk away, our hands in the air and I would have been gone from your sight. Now, now here we stand on opposing sides joined at the ring by the manager in general of Kingdom, a shell of a leader who is being strung along by the elder in council and will soon find himself so deep in his mistakes that the tryst he has had with you will seem trivial. His eyes will be upon us as will the worlds, who watch us as we battle and dance a dance of violence. As art imitates life imitates the words spoken. I will bring justice for your folly and walk away with the world knowing that my motions and actions though guided by brilliance are but fleeting breaths of word yet spoken.

I must do my part in all of this, that means I cannot sit idle and bring more than the words you are now hearing as we set up this meeting. Oliver Harpe no quarter will be given to you as we tussle. I will bend you and break you down till you are humbled at my feet and begging to be ended. I am not a man who allows his ego to gather up the adoration of the fans as they cheer louder and louder. No, their cries and their tears are not what I seek, but for them to understand who I am by my actions, that they know that I was wronged by your intentions and malice. They will see in my style that I am not one to trifle and By the end of it all they can cheer or they can boo, but they will not deny that my words here have been anything but the truth.

And yet spend all our life on imprecisions,

That when we start to die

Have no idea why.

I have a feeling you will hear my words and think madness befalls me. I speak not like others who have come before me. I know as I sit here treading this water of life that you think you are better, have found the strength to bring me down lower than I may already be. But know this, like the tides that ebb and flow, I can fall or rise and be more than I am and I will not let you control the narrative of my story. Oliver Harpe not glory is to come from your tried and true colors, No I already see where this chapter is turning and through it all, I know in my heart you will be beaten. My hand is held high on the night of our meeting, for I cannot allow you to hinder me again, no I must move past you. You slowed down my progress with actions unbecoming a man of your stature. You have failed at every turn that you try and master your will to be more and more. Stop, think of what you do, know that in defeat you can rebuild, become something worth the words you have spoken before.

Know this Oliver, while we fight for the moment, I am not your enemy but simply your payment, due to you for your own decisions made. I will deliver to you the transactions you need, not by greed or by debt, no this payment is made with your blood and the sweat from your pores as you rage war with me. I know given the chance you will spare me no mercy and in this same thread I will promise the same. I bring to the easel my tools to exceed, bring to, your desire and anger, fight me with all you can so that when you lie, lights dazed in your half closed eyes an understanding can filter into your mind and body knowing that I, Sam Ogden, brought to you what you have needed. A way to walk away from your suffering and to regroup, rebalance your life for tomorrow. Because until you can find the beauty in the world around you, you can not understand me for who I am. I find pity when I look upon you, so far from the mercenary you wanted to be, no nothing more than a wanna be henchman.

You may be ignorant of what is to come, but after it is over and you look back on your loss, know that it was not from lack of effort or talent, no, it was lack of knowing how this would be ending at my hands. How you could have avoided it all had you made better choices and not gotten lost in the noise of the voices inside your head.

Sam has returned to his desk and sat down, he opens the book back to where he had left off, carefully setting the bookmark aside as he goes back to readings as the camera fades.

Poem by Philip Larken

Re: OWA Promos October 21st 2020, 9:05 pm by **Doodled**

Lyrics (Courtesy of Kyle Boe):

Christopher Sabertooth, Devi Krysis and Mav. have spoken. It’s such good shit!

Re: OWA Promos October 21st 2020, 9:00 pm by **Jonetta Stone**

First things first, can someone please.

PLEASE!

Put a muzzle on Dulce! Does she not know proper channels? Do her kind not follow the chain of command? Do they not teach manners where she comes from? I don’t speak to her kind, and they don’t speak to, or of, me. Not unless we have business, and we most certainly do not. She should go to her representative, the boss of all the type of people Dulce falls under. My new associate.

Revy.

What? You know those darn Texans. The “El Paso” doesn’t change that she is under Revy’s jurisdiction, if you thought I was saying any words otherwise, you’re the one in the wrong!

You don’t see any Canadians running around on Odyssey pestering Llorona, Revy, or April do you? They know better, if they have something to say to my associates, they have to get permission from me.

Speaking of April, I’m glad she finally saw the light. She’s one of the only people in OWA I have ever respected. She served her country, she’s a soldier! What’s not to respect? I could never wrap my head around why she insisted on being second fiddle to Diantha, and the pretenders in OWA. All her allies always seemed like soft-hearted idealistic cowards. They don’t believe in getting their hands dirty, they don’t like hurting the so-called legends on top, and they believe all of the women on Odyssey are in this together! Please, that’s pathetic! April? She’s a killer! She’s Killer Bee! She knows that sometimes in life you have to take life, you have to get emotionally accustomed to taking out your enemies, and you have to do things that aren’t considered pretty by people that have no idea how the world is run in the background so they can live happy and safe lives. She’s just like me, I know about taking life from my time hunting. She’s just like Llorona, Llorona had to take many lives coming from where she did to survive and make it out! We’re all killers! I’m sure even Revy has blown some creatures up with her bombs and stuff, probably.

Now my new associates aren’t perfect, as they’re not me of course. But they’re better than the rest of Odyssey since they at least have that killer instinct and decided to stand up for themselves against the pillars of the status quo!

So let me make this clear, we’re the only ones allowed to make fun of Llorona’s big strong chin.

We’re the only ones who can make jokes about the fact Revy’s as mad as a hatter.

We’re the only ones who can even dare mention that the bout machine’s greatest bout is with her alcoholism.

It’s crazy how slow on the uptake people are on facts like that. It’s baffling that on the last Odyssey that pipsqueak, Natalie, tried to jump Llorona. Did she really think I wouldn’t show up and kick her ass for that? Everyone’s seen Revy, Llorona, and I working together. The nerve. Try to take out Llorona….I’m the only one who goes around kicking Llorona’s ass as far as I know! Only we get to beat each other up like that, and right now isn’t the time for that, so the rest of Odyssey needs to realize the four of us are now untouchables!

If any of you forget that, up until we’ve completely dismantled the pillars, you’ll end up just like Natalie.

Some say I need “besties”, even though I”m pretty sure I’ve beaten them multiple times after my Dollhouse friends already left the company…..some, I’m sure, will even point out that most of us in this new group aren’t friends in their shock and confusion seeing us working together. They’ll express their doubt that we can do anything together, that’s why clearly our boss, and protector of the pillars, isn’t taking us seriously by who she’s put us up against on Odyssey. But what do you people know of teamwork and tag team wrestling? Nothing! Shut up! I’m the expert here, I was the longest reigning tag team champion in OWA history!!!!!!

Know what makes a good tag team? No, it’s not being “besties”, you’re idiots. The Dollhouse being that close and friendly was just a coincidence! If being friends was enough to succeed as a tag team, all the road buddies and gal pals would have tag team reigns by now! Azumi and Haruna would have been tag team legends! Just look at Devi and Azurine, they’re apparently close, but they’ll never amount to anything, they’re just there to get their butts spanked by yours truly for being out of line.

What makes a good team is a united purpose, a talented collection of people, and pieces that make the puzzle come together when it comes to the quality of the people involved. All four of us are mean and capable of harming others in ways most of OWA could never imagine, that’s why we can mesh as a team. I don’t have to enjoy taking siestas or whatever Llorona likes doing in her free time, all that matters is when it’s time to get in that ring she likes to go out there and deliver the pain just as much as I do. What matters is that I know that when Llorona hears a name like “The Adorkable Agent” she gets just a sick in the stomach as I do and it makes us both even more ill-tempered until we get to have our joy battering the foul pissant that ruined our appetites in the first place.

Honestly, Llorona could probably handle this in a two on one handicap match, just look at Devi and Azurine...their flimsy wrists would snap if they punched Llorona in her iron jaw. Only I can starch her.

BUT, I have kept my powder dry for a little too long, I want to stack up more victories and collect more heads to put over my fireplace mantel from work done by my own hand. Most of all, I want to beat on Devi so badly that her jaw is wired shut. I’m sick of hearing about Stark, everything he can provide Llorona could find back in her hometown very quickly, with better quality. I don’t care about whatever is going on with the Frontline, Ashes of the Wake, or even She She whatever Kai Revy’s family member runs. Don’t care about Revy’s old tag team partner. I sure as hell don’t care about who beat Stephanie, after once again not showing up with her best foot forward and being caught on an off night. Hell Stephanie’s just like the pillars and the only reason we don’t chase her down too is because Aria is distracting her from wasting a top spot on Odyssey right now. Polluting my mind with so many references and so many names, you’ll pay for that Devi! I barely like thinking about you and Azurine, making me have to note the existence of so many knuckledraggers, without my consent beforehand, is a sin worse than you know! It’s almost as bad as you trying to say that these pillars have paved the way for anyone in this business! What have Diantha, Natalie, or Dulce, ever done for anyone, let alone you? All they do is try to keep the spotlight on themselves, like when Dulce insisted Diantha deserved the title match that made her a champion in the first place when even the pillar bootlicker DeMarco thought Diantha didn’t deserve another shot. They’re just like Stark, who by the way is only associating with you because it’s an easy way for him to have his name out there without doing anything, because for some ungodly unknown reason, for me, you’re the talk of the OWA clown town. It’s incredible, how much a total outlaw mud show wrestler like yourself can garner hype. Just goes to show people care not for substance, they run from it, fear it.

But it remains nonetheless, deep down everyone knows the one crucial thing on Odyssey. Even if they only speak of it in hush tones, and try to pretend like they forget, I have the path maker in OWA! And it’s looking like a real pillar killer too right about now. The Athena’s Cup. It means your beloved Diantha, lives on borrowed time.

Girls like you and Azurine, happy to wait on someone to pave a path that’ll never be made for you, wouldn’t understand. But know this, with Llorona and I, you might not even be around to see Diantha’s time come to pass.

Aria Jaxon and Jeff X have spoken. It’s such good shit!

Re: OWA Promos October 20th 2020, 9:42 pm by **Devi Krysis**

A New Mind and Focus

Odyssey LIV #2

(The scene takes place as you see Devi meditating after 4 days of Stark's Training regimen. Since then Devi's mind has been more quiet and focus, all she hear is Revy and her little friends causing havoc on Odyssey in her mind.)

You know what? Dulce's right Revy. Everything she's said about your track record from the past two episodes of Odyssey were true. And because your best friend/partner Mizuko is gone and looking for opportunities to make new friends and make lives hella miserable is different concerning.

(Devi still meditating with her eyes closed, has her voice speaks.)

I don't know what you achieve taking out big names of the Odyssey brand including The Women's World Champion Diantha Rosso. Let me tell you something Revy, cause I know that you and friends wanted be a attention whores. These Pillars of OWA they help pay the way for newcomers like myself, That's why I'm here, and I'll be damned if you bitches causing more chaos like you guys did for past two Odysseys.

And you know for a Shin-SEKAI Revy, it's sad that not only you miss your best friend, you just have to create your own OWA Version of The THOT patrol because that's all you, Llorona, and Jonetta Stone are, You killing them to get attention! But since you love the attention so much. Let me hit you with the reality check Revy. How many Women's World Championship did you won? Had you even been in the Promethean Chamber match? Oh I got good one, How many Athena's Cup did you win and cash in on the same night? Hmm? Oh that's right none of them! And that's why Kylie F'n Monroe beat the shit out of you at LAW Lethal Hearts 2 in the Scottish Death match and took your Lethal Specialist Title! Tell that to Llorona cause she suffered the same fate at Americana.

(Devi opens her eyes while she's in the meditating position)

So at Odyssey LIV, Llorona and Jonetta Stone you want a spotlight, you want to the attention that Revy desperately deserves well going to get it! In the suspense of The Adorkable one, "MY" friend that beat Revy and Mizuko, and the one that pulled a upset against One half of The World Tag Team Champions Stephanie Matsuda at Atlantis, Azurine Vebbins and the woman will come with the new mindset, you see for the past few days I try Stark's Training regimen and it helps me to get my mind off of everything. Jeff X, Frontline, Everything! And people say that i'm going to died after smoking 4 blunts a day *cough* but you can't kill this Wolf down! Dulce believe the future of this brand and she's support thick and through, and i'm already support it since Azumi Goto's retirement and it eats me inside that i'm missed her. So Llorona, Jonetta Stone you want the spotlight so bad? come to Odyssey next week, and me and Azzy will make you two Skanks famous! And i'm not doing this for myself, I'll do it for the honor of Azumi Sakazaki aka Azumi Goto, and Stark i'll make sure that your training regimen will help for my tag team match. And once I done with both of you my quest for the championship will go foward! Start praying ladies cause next week you might need it!

(Devi shut her eyes and continue meditating, and shot fades.)

Re: OWA Promos October 20th 2020, 6:01 pm by **Dulce Torres**

It’s been a while. How about we talk?

Well, these past number of weeks have been quite interesting. I went from having an epic battle against Diantha at Game Over to me giving her props for finally getting that victory over me. I thought we were going to have a respectful moment between the two of us, but apparently, there are always going to be people, who stick their noses where they don’t belong and ruin all the fun. Those people are Llorona, Jonetta Stone, and Revy, three individuals, who have gotten sick of tired of waiting for their moment. The same woman who are a little fed up with watching the “Pillars of OWA” aka me and Diantha in particular for always being in the spotlight. It’s just another cry that they aren’t being provided with the love and attention that they believe that they are entitled to. It’s kind of sad that they needed to interrupt a moment of respect with me and Diantha in order to make their statement. Not only that, but it seems like they talked some “sense” into April into joining their cause and that was shocking to me. Diantha and I are hoping to get some answers for April’s betrayal, but I can assure them that it’s the biggest mistake that the four of those women have made during their time in OWA. You’ve managed to piss off the current OWA Women’s World Champion and a former OWA. Women’s World Champion and you expect us to accept the punishment that was inflicted on us? Oh no, Diantha and I aren’t going to sit around and accept the punishment. We aren’t going to step to the side because other women believe that they are entitled to the spotlight. However, congratulations to those four. They got attention, but I don’t think that it’s the attention they were asking for.

Isn’t that right, Revy?

Do you feel proud of all the havoc that you caused in the last two episodes of Odyssey? Do you feel proud in contributing to the beatings of the so-called “Pillars of OWA?” I would think that you at least feel proud of the idea that you managed to round up some of the women, who are on the same boat as you. People who are struggling to get somewhere on the card on Odyssey. Well, you got a thug, who has been constantly dubbed as the rising star on the Odyssey brand. Llorona was in the final two of the Promethean Chamber. She holds a victory over me and even made it to the finals of the Athena’s Cup before losing to Jonetta Stone. Speaking of Jonetta Stone, she is someone who has all the potential of being someone great, but the moment she finds herself out of her circle of besties, she realizes that there's not always going to be people that brown nose and worship the ground that she walks on. She’s also the woman who ended my reign as the OWA Women’s World Champion in the Promethean Chamber. She is one of the few people who managed to pin my shoulders to the mat on a typical episode of Odyssey. You also had April Song, who is a former OWA Goddesses Champion and was even propped as the better half in her tag team with Diantha. Yet, we're supposed to believe that they’re being underutilized? We’re supposed to Odyssey and Viola DeMarco are out to get them? Are we going to pull the stuff out with the conspiracy theories? I’m not going to contribute to the little games that women like Revy will try to dish out for Odyssey. I don’t mean to be that person, but Revy, what have you done to validate any reasoning that you're ready to be placed in the spot that I've been in? I’ll be more than happy than to wait for some sort of explanation. Do you want me to take a seat? I mean, it could take a while. Here; I’ll make things a lot easier for you. You’ve done nothing, Revy. You have done nothing to prove that you're more than ready for the spotlight. You haven't done much to prove that you’re ready to step up and take on the difficult task that comes with being a Dulce Torres or a Diantha Rosso.

Before you go on a “Dulce Torres doesn’t support the rising talent of OWA” rant, I am going to establish that I believe in the future of Odyssey. You see women like Alyssa Grace and Hana Nakajima and it makes me believe that the Goddesses Championship will be continued to be elevated to higher standards. I look at women like Diantha, who busted her butt to get to where she is today and it makes me happy to see that we have a champion who is a fighter and can relate to a lot of these women when it comes to struggling and triumph. With me being thrust into the spotlight as much as I have, it was never my intention to “steal” the spotlight. It was never the intention to take moments away from the other women. Everything that I’ve accomplished? I’ve earned it. I wasn’t given any spots. Nothing was handed to me on a silver platter. Go ahead and make up any conspiracy theories about how Viola favors Dulce and whatever is going to suit your narrative because I am not going to apologize for being in the spot that I am today. I am also not going to give this spot away. No, it’s not me “refusing” to let anyone take the spotlight. The spotlight is always up for grabs. No one has had the guts to try to take it away. Until now. Now, it’s your turn, Revy. It’s your turn to take the spotlight away from me. It’s your turn to prove that I am someone who is past my prime and I shouldn’t be near any title picture anymore. If you think that I don’t deserve to be in the position I am. If you think that I should just step aside and let women like you, Llorona and Jonetta Stone have their moment, why don’t you just knock me out of the way? I’ll be waiting for you to do that, Revy because it wouldn’t be the first nor the last time that I needed to fight for my spot on the top of Odyssey. Going into Odyssey, you can consider this your test. Prove that you’re more than deserving of the spotlight. Prove that you’re more than worthy of taking my spot on the brand. Prove that despite the lack of accomplishments to your name, you are someone that OWA should be having their eyes on at all times. I can be proven wrong. It’s not a foreign concept for myself. It’s not a difficult thing to do. All you need to do is defeat me. If you need the advice, might as well go to Jonetta and Llorona. They've done it, but now, it’s your turn to do that.

From an outsider’s perspective, your objective seems good. You want to break the pattern that Odyssey has been known for with having women like myself, Diantha, Natalie, and Azumi, but the way you're going at it, it's wrong. It’s dangerously wrong and you’re making a huge mistake by trying to forcibly take your spot on top by making us your enemy long the way. I said so at the beginning of this promo: do you think it's smart to make enemies out of women like myself and Diantha? Do you really think that this is the smartest approach to go with? With having someone like April, who knows Diantha like the back of her hand, it’s a little victory for your side, but that victory is going to be short-lived for you once you face me in the ring, Revy. It’s either make it or break it with you. Either you step up and prove that you’re more than just talk or I’ll break your arm and make you tap out. Maybe, even pin you, but you get the idea. It will be you who goes back to the drawing board and thinks of a new plan on how to take me and Diantha down. Meanwhile, Diantha and I will be sitting nicely on top of this brand.

VaeVictisBD and Aria Jaxon have spoken. It’s such good shit!

Re: OWA Promos October 20th 2020, 8:47 am by **Holden Tudics**

Olympus Promo 2: The Ballad of Sarge & Rocky

(The camera opens on that same camp fire circle as the previous promo, this time in the light of day. The fire has long since extinguished, leaving behind only smoldering black logs surrounded by rocks inside a dug out fire pit. Beside the fire pit sits Derelict in the dirt with his legs crossed and his hands behind him, propping him up like a tripod as he watches the vacant white sky of morning.)

"Long time ago, back when I was a boy, I used to frequent this soup kitchen near a VFW. The food wasn't much. Their 'soup' was as thick as porridge and served cold as ice nine times out of ten. A more fitting title for it would've been 'borscht', but when it's the only meal you can rely on gettin', you don't have much to complain about. Every once in awhile some guys would break out of the VFW and sneak in for an extra meal. The two that were the best at breaking camp and going AWOL were guys we called Sarge and Rocky. Sarge and Rocky weren't their real names of course, but those poor shell shocked bastards were so deep in the fog that it was the only thing they'd respond to half the time. Every holiday the kitchen would splurge and buy us some pudding cups. Nothin' special, just some dollar store brand snack packs that were usually set to expire on the day of consumption, but those things may as well have been liquid gold to us. I'd see men trade packs of cigarettes and methadone for stockpiles of the stuff...even saw a guy get stabbed for a single cup once, but that wasn't the case with Sarge and Rocky. Nobody ever messed with'em, 'cept each other. I remember the first time they were sitting at the table at Christmas. Sarge was staring blankly ahead, not even looking at the food as he attempted in vain to shovel it in his mouth, while Rocky would chuckle and chatter to himself like a demented squirrel. That's why they called'em Rocky, I s'pose. Just after the good Christian folk who ran the soup kitchen made us pray over our supper, without missin' a beat Rocky would shout 'Hit The Deck!', and Sarge would drop to the floor like Charlie was flying overhead. Rocky would take the opportunity to snake his pudding. First time it happened we all laughed. The folks runnin' the kitchen reprimanded Rocky, but that's about all that came of it. Second time it happened, only days later on New Years, the soup kitchen reprimanded Rocky and we all chuckled a little quieter. By the time Valentine's Day came 'round and Rocky'd done it a third time, no one made a sound. Not the kitchen, not us, not anybody. Veteran's Day came and went, and Rocky got another free snack pack to go 'long with his meal. We were beginning to understand that Sarge was too far gone to anticipate this same fate befalling him over and over again, so when the 4th rolled around we all met Sarge and Rocky outside before the meal was served. We let Sarge pass and then we all gave Rocky a good ol' asswhoopin' and sent him packing back to the veteran's hall. We'd thought that'd be the end of it, but as soon as Labor Day came 'round, the prayers ended, and there was Rocky again shouting 'HIT THE DECK!'. It was then that we realized that this vicious cycle wasn't correctable because our boy Rocky was also too far gone to reason with or understand the wrong he'd repeatedly done. We could kick his ass every other holiday, and he'd be back the next,pilfering Sarge's snack pack, not realizing he'd played this joke before or that an asswhoopin' awaited him the next time he showed up. So we just...let it happen from that day forward."

(After a long wistful pause to savor the memory, Derelict lowers his gaze and stares directly into the camera.)

"I don't tell this story to hear the sound of my own voice. I don't do it because I like tellin' it. It's a pretty fucked up story, but I tell it because I've been living in the very same vicious cycle of violence as our friend Rocky. See, every now and again the OWA puts a world traveled, world beatin', five star athlete in front of me and tells me I can't knock his dick in the dirt. Every time that world traveled, world beatin', five star athlete tells me that they're different, and that they're not just some errand boy sent to try and take me out by a senile staff of aristocratic reprobates. They always have some soft white boy first name like 'Kevin', or 'Keelan', or 'Layne', or 'Gareth', or 'Graham' and they all think they're the hottest thing under the sun. Every time I knock their dicks in the dirt and send them packing. Every time I make them question their own self-image. Every time I torture them for fun because they think I'm going to play by their rules. They think this is a wrestling match. They think who they've beaten before reflects that they can beat me. News flash, Graham: I've beaten Darkane. No one's impressed. I've won gold here every chance I've earned. I've had gaggles of opponents thrown at me at once and walked away, only for more bodies to be stacked on the pile along with a new stipulation to torture me for being the success story that OWA doesn't want to be associated with. Maybe you didn't hear me the first time, or maybe you think where you've come from matters and for some reason I didn't understand what you said about being 'top guy' everywhere else: Nobody cares. You're here now. I wasn't in those other places. The only variable that's changed is you looking to take my title, so either you believe that your past accomplishments mean nothing until you beat me, or we're spinning our wheels having the same old one-on-one Derelict title defense against yet another self-proclaimed 'best in the world' who asks for respect instead of earning it. I'm not here to kiss your ass or put respect on your name when you haven't earned it against me, the real world champion, the man whose eaten the souls of men like you for breakfast, lunch, and dinner for nearly two years. You're no top dog. You're at the back of the pack, but for some reason that I've yet to hear explained or reconciled sufficiently, OWA decided to throw you a bone and it's gone to your head."

(Derelict cracks and pops as he uncrosses his legs and pushes himself off of the ground.)

"You ask me why I do this, and the answer's known to everyone else in OWA. I do this to prove a point. I do this to torture grapple monkeys like you that think nurture overtakes nature in that ring. I do this to check privilege, and to just flat out mangle assholes like you because it's fun. You come in all boisterous, hot and bothered because I call claim to my title, call me a junkie without knowing a damn thing about me, insist that I'm a tumor that's to be excised, some cancerous lump. Maybe you're right on the latter, but I'm attached to something vital. I've grown on the hearts and minds of every single competitor in this company and threatened to take their lives if they even think about trying to severe ties with my reign of supremacy. I can't be cut out of OWA. I am OWA. I'm the end of pro wrestling as chumps like you know it. I'm the iconoclast of every style, system, and discipline of fighting that's ever been studied in a wrestling ring. I win by being bigger, stronger, meaner, and hungrier than little young boys like you who go on excursion to tick up imaginary stats just so you can get some fresh gear and a little attention from senpai. What really bugs me is boys like you who pretend to come with respect on your breath, but when you open your mouth all I smell is bullshit. You call me a champion and a junkie out of the same pie hole. You sing my praises for being a dominant force here while also denying the level of competition that I've demolished. Boys like you think you're better, and that's the difference. I know I'm better than you, Graham. I have a tale of the tape to back it up. I've almost got a foot in height on you and nearly a hundred pounds of weight. My reach is longer, my muscle is harder, and my experience is deeper. See, you've never faced a man like me before. I'm sure you've wrestled self-proclaimed monsters, big men with acrobatics and technical ability, and even the occasional fleet-footed giant, but I'm none of those things. I'm a man, Graham. I don't budge when you try and lift me. I don't flinch when you hit me. I don't fall when you push me. As a matter of fact, you'll be hard pressed to get me to leave my feet at all, because I'm not going to take unnecessary risks. I'm not going to do crowd pleasing chain wrestling or high flying. I'm not going to expel energy for the sake of sending everyone home with a smile. I'm simply going to reach past your guard, grab you by the throat, and throw you out of my ring. And if you try to get back in my ring, I'll stomp you through it."

(The Derelict turns and stares at the horizon as the pink morning sun begins threatening to peak over it and wash the blank canvas of the sky with it's colorful rays.)

"This is just another day for me Graham. You're just the same broken boy soldier sliding up to the table, oblivious to the world around you, looking for a prize that you never get, unaware that a fate that's befallen you before is about to repeat itself in the history books. I hope that the loser's purse is enough to feed you, because you don't get your just desserts. You've traveled for naught and trained in vain, only to find yourself face to face with the giggling reflection of your own repetitious insanity that's probably just as sick of having this conversation as you are hearing it. You ask me why I do it...I say it's because I'm the best. I ask you in return why you do this? What do you get out of it? are you just some journeyman traveling from territory to territory looking for that big break? It ain't here, you baka gaijin bastard, so may as well keep on travelin' 'til you find another place lookin' to hand out snack packs. Me? I'll be here, mumbling to myself and giggling under my breath, waiting for the next time OWA promises another ring general a shot at my title. Hordes of wannabes and pretenders can come and kick my shit in, but like Rocky, I'll just be back the next week to laugh in their face and take what's mine. Where do you go after this, though? It's a rhetorical question, mostly because I don't care about the answer, but maybe you should ruminate on that for a little while. Will it be the bottom of a bottle? Will it be a desert island paradise? or will it be home? Maybe a man of honor like yourself will fall on a sword and die in the dirt from whence he came. Food for thought, I suppose. Speaking of, I should consider hunting down some breakfast.."

(Derelict slaps his lips together and starts slowly heading for a nearby rustling tree line as the camera fades to black.)

"...ain't gonna catch itself..."

VaeVictisBD has spoken. It’s such good shit!

“By god, he speaks!”

Baker claps his hands as he leans back in his chair, a smile on his face. The setting is brighter now, even if Baker sits in the same room. He crosses one leg over the other in his armchair, dressed in an old SSW t-shirt and a pair of black jeans. There’s no cigarette between his lips, but a watch that he taps on his right wrist. He’s placid as he continues speaking.

“I thought for sure you’d lost your tongue when Fiora took your fuckin’ mojo at Game Over, but I’m glad to see I was wrong. The Derelict addresses me in his own tongue for the first time, and it’s exactly what I expected-excuses. That I’ve only gotten my title shot because of politics, ignoring that I dumped Darkane into a shallow grave? That I’ve focused so much on what you should be, ignoring what you are? Moreover, that I’ve never wagered with death before?

You really haven’t followed exactly who I am, have you?

I mean, it’s not surprising, I’d guess-things like you focus largely on the barest instincts of survival. Your primitive brain can identify warmth, water, air...but not much beyond that, can you? You can identify violence as a means to get what you want, be that vengeance or vitriol from others as you hold up something that would mean so much more to anyone else holding it. You can identify, even when you get your hands on something, what you can do with it, Derelict, but that’s where your higher reasoning ends.

Why else, after all, would you let your belt fall to the wayside? It gets you what you want, right? More violence, more skulls to crush, more gore to revel in. Even if you’re not focused on possession...you seem more content to make idle threats than go for what is yours.

It doesn’t surprise me, though.”

Baker runs his hand through his own beard, thinking for a moment, before he continues.

“You don’t pay attention to things outside the little box that you call your world. When you saw Graham Baker’s name next to yours, I’m sure you figured that I’d sucked someone off backstage to get my shot, that I’d glad-handed Oasis and begged for something, anything, only to get fed to you. I’m sure you assumed that because I’m the new kid on the chopping block, that they sent me your way to send you a message. You speak a lot about death and dying, like you’re gonna be the one doing the killing, like OWA sent me to you to learn a lesson early on, to ‘learn my place’ as you’d be so inclined to say.

Hell, maybe you’re right. Maybe they are misguided into thinking I’m just gonna lay down for the fucking Derelict.

Plans aside, though, brother, that’s not happening.

Because in spite of all this, in spite of the fact that you parsed my words and pulled the biggest and pointiest knives out of the target upon your back, ready to hurl them back at me, you still ain’t proven a goddamn thing. You’re still the guy who let some fucking simp take his belt, who’s still galavanting like the fact that his name’s on the website and face is on the poster makes him any more of a champion without his belt. Possession’s nine tenths of the law, and even though you’ve had so little in your life, Derelict, I’m sure you understand that concept at least, right? That you don’t look like shit because Fiora took your shit, right?

If you don’t, well...maybe you shouldn’t be in the ring anymore, anyway.”

Baker chuckles. He continues.

“I don’t have any privilege on my tongue that ain’t fucking earned. I’m a goddamn name every company i’ve stepped into, from SSW to KINGDOM to anywhere and everywhere my boots’ve been laced up. When I was a fuckin’ whelp, I raised gold in America, and I’ve done it again and again since then. Three continents, Derelict, while you were riding box-cars, I was beating bastards bloody in arenas you could only dream of. You might be top dog in OWA, because you’ve seen the glitz and glamour, you think you’re top of the fucking world. You think this kingdom reigns so far above all others, and in some respects, it does. I wouldn’t be here if it didn’t, but let me be clear that I didn’t come to Olympus to be reigned over by some Little Lord thinking he’s the most violent thing on two legs in this entire fucking company.

Because even if that was true?

It went out the window the minute my feet touched this canvas.

When I get into the ring, Derelict, I don’t plan on stepping out, so you can throw your mind-fucks about open caskets and black coffins out the window. A month ago, I put everything on the line to destroy Noah Reigner. I lost my bar, my girl, the skin off my back and, for a moment, the breath in my lungs. Before that, I made a promise that I would wipe that sentient stain of shit off the face of the planet, even if it cost me freedom for the rest of my days, life in a cell all the fucking way underground. You think I give a shit about dying? You think your words about me being a sacrifice and a dead man mean a fucking thing to me?

In this business, I don’t take any fucking day for granted. I don’t assume I’m walking away scot-free the next day.

I play for keeps, every time I get in the game.

I’ve lived, breathed, and bled this industry for the past thirteen years, and some stacked-tall pile of toxic waste with a hillbilly beard isn’t going to slow me down. I’m not afraid of you, despite the size, despite the title, despite the fact that you survived being fried alive in a cage to keep that championship, because the truth is i’m sharper than any bolt of electricity that shot through your body that night, and I’m deadlier than any of the six motherfuckers you shared that cage with.

You’re the king here, Derelict, for better or for worse. You did the work, I can’t deny that, and before Graham Baker showed up you were top fuckin’ dog. For ninety plus days, you’ve held the championship on your shoulder, around your waist, the company on your back.

But now?

Now, your reign is at an end, and judgment day has arrived.”

Baker draws closer to the camera. He’s focused, intently looking into the camera, almost through it. He takes a moment to consider his words, and then speaks.

“Have you ever asked yourself, Derelict, why you do this? I’m sure the answer is simple, as most of your thoughts are. You wanna break some faces, crunch some jaws with your fists. Stand tall like you’re anything other than the biggest nugget in a pile of shit, and feel superior for once. I get it-the rush of blood to the brain when you put someone in the fucking dirt is pretty great, right? It’s that momentary dopamine rush the minute the third bell rings that keeps you going, a junkie lusting for another high since, y’know, your street-grade smack fell through.

But that’s not me. Maybe at one point it was, but I’ve grown a bit past that. I can see the bigger picture-that this industry is hemorrhaging, that promotions like OWA are being dragged down by having the upper-card not even giving a modicum of a fuck about where their title goes. It’s like I said last time, Derelict-it’s state homes versus Superdomes, box-cars versus bright lights. OWA knows where they want their title, and it’s certainly not over the shoulder of a thing that can’t keep his own affairs in order, his own house clean.

You know why I got this shot? Because it ain’t no silver spoon story.

It’s because I’m going to excise tumors like you from the fucking company.

My surgery is not exact, nah, my methodology isn’t perfect, but I can tell you with one hundred percent certainty that I know how to send you packing. You know it, too. I can hear it in your words-the quiver in the back of your throat when you threaten my death, because you know that’s the only way that you survive in this environment, the only way you can thrive is if I scuttle on back to a hole so deep that you can avoid death by the Blade, a merciful tool of iron judgment running straight for your fucking throat. This is your kingdom, Derelict, and in your eyes, you command respect and fear in equal parts, with or without that gold around your waist, but there is a tool that drives kings far greater than you would ever be to their knees.

Can you hear it? Soaring closer and closer to your throat, falling without a care in the world as to what you’ve done thus far?

Because I can.”

Baker leans closer to the camera. We see a cold fury in his eyes.

“The clock ticks, Derelict, and even if you’re unsure if you want it, I can hear it in your words. You don’t want to be a man anymore, being a man is boring, being a man is vanilla, being a man is outdated. You spent so long living among the roaches and rats that you want to rejoin them, want to submerge yourself back into a lake of filth and find yourself free to do as you wish, free without any commitments to a world of more refined tastes and responsibilities.

This is your freedom, Derelict, your chance to find a way out, your chance to return to the life among the wretches that you so treasure. This is your way out. You might claim that you’ll bring violence to me, but really? I know you’re desperate. I know you’re ready for this to all be over, for the pain to stop. The pain of existing at such a high level of competition-it’s nearly unbearable, isn’t it? Crushing down upon you like lead weights around your throat, threatening to drag you under and drown you? I know what went through your mind with that bit of flame smoldering through your beard-you wanted to let it keep growing, let it consume you-but you don’t want to appear weak. You don’t have to anymore, though. I promise.

Let me set you free, Derelict.

Let me show you an escape from pain, from responsibility.

Let me show you how much better life would be without that championship around your waist.

Someone like you? You don’t need that. You’ve said as much-just a material piece of gold to throw around, to get what you want. All the fights you could ever need exist on the streets outside of OWA, exist in a world where you don’t need four ropes to brawl, you can do it wherever and whenever you want. Your excision isn’t just a mercy for OWA, it’s a mercy for you-and like it or not, Derelict, it is a truth that you will accept...be it by coercion, by understanding, or by the most brutal force that you could ever fucking imagine.”

Baker taps his watch as he looks into the camera. He smiles.

“Eight days. Can you feel it on the air? Those fingers on the back of your neck, threatening to clamp down and tell you that this is all over?”

He pauses.

“Because I can. I can feel it real fuckin’ well.”

Cut to black.

VaeVictisBD, Aria Jaxon and Noah Reigner have spoken. It’s such good shit!

Re: OWA Promos October 19th 2020, 11:53 am by **Holden Tudics**

Olympus Promo 1:

(The camera opens to darkness, with only a singular campfire giving the shortest range of ember light. Smoke rises from the fire and disappears into the darkness, as if it had never existed at all. Abruptly, a log flies out from the void, disturbing the flames and sending sparks flying as a gruff voice emits from the nothing.)

"What is it with this locker room worrying about what's between my legs? 'Be a man', they say. 'Take what's yours', they say. 'If I were you, I'd do this', 'you ain't hard, you ain't a man'. I hear these hollow words of bravado and question what's so great about being a man? Men are nothing but dumb animals, prone to traps like any other stupid rodent walking on all fours or upright. Stark was a man, so much so that I recall a time when he called himself 'Starkman'. What'd hanging pipe get him? Curb stomped on religious iconography. The truth of the matter is that you're not me, Graham Baker. You weren't frizzle fried in a steel cage fighting five other men, only to be jumped by a cult when the cage was lifted and the trap was sprung. You didn't barrel through every road block of red tape and cynicism put before you by a front office that didn't want you representing their brand, only to find yourself on top of the food chain long enough for a pack of hyenas to assemble and nip at your heels until you came crashing back down to earth. You've been here a month and you've already been handed a title shot. Don't talk to me about being 'hard'. Don't pretend you know the hell I've went through just to seed my spot at the top of the heap. You're worried about all that glitters? Fine, how's this for a piece of 'bling'?: You've been handed a golden goose egg by management. They don't know that yet. They think you'll beat me because you're some weeb who learned to kick hard in a dojo. You can talk a big game about status and possessions, but the truth of the matter is that you're not going after Nathan Fiora's purloined jewelry. You're not chasing down some other champion with a diamond encrusted crown. You're coming for the man whose champion in title only, because you know that the rest is part and parcel with a little bit of Christmas tinsel thrown on for pageantry."

(As the fire crackles and hisses in the stillness of the night, The Derelict's face appears above the flames, almost out of nowhere, as if the licks of the umber light had carved it out of the darkness and shaped it with orange flame.)

"Politics have brought you to my doorstep with a silver spoon in your mouth and a sense of entitlement in that base in your voice. You think you've done something to be here? now? against me? No. You preach on scraping and clawing, but I see no blood or dirt under your nails. You tell me I hide behind a little man who sung my praises with a chorus of phantoms long before I even knew his name. Saul Abzu doesn't speak for me, and neither do you. You don't know me, where I've been, or what I'm made of. You barely know where your locker is backstage, so how about you do like all smart new kids do and keep your mouth shut and avoid being the target of bullying and ridicule. Part of me wants to let you win this match, just to watch you go back on your own word and stay put and wait for the very front office that handed you this title shot on a silver platter to bring you the belt. I know that's what'd happen. I know because if it weren't, you wouldn't be standing here before me without a reason under the sun for even setting foot in my arena. You brag about dominating a dead company as if grave robbing were worthy of a medal. Fuck you and the horse you rode in on. Congratulations for being king of the cinder pile. You're in OWA now, and it's my world. You know it's mine because I hold title over it."

(Derelict lowers his head, letting the fire light the split ends of his beard ablaze. He then rises up and stands over it the fire, holding his arms out as he stares up at the sky while ash and sparks fall from his slowly disintegrating beard.)

"I'm no prophet, I'm no martyr, I'm no savior to the masses. I'm in this for me, and I could give a damn about what some ghost from another graveyard thinks about how I carry out my business when they died with their's unfinished. A lion doesn't take on a pack of dire wolves by himself. A lion chooses his battles and picks them off one by one until there's nothing left of the pack. That's why they're the king, and we're a bunch of dumb apes throwing rocks at tanks with one hand, while holding our manhood in the other. I'm not interested in whipping mine out and showing you that it's bigger. I don't wish to die in the compromised position of holding onto my manhood. I've seen brave men die trying to prove they didn't have a micro penis. Me? I'm a bit more secure. Call me a coward, a leach on society, a beggar. I've heard it all before, but I'll tell you this Graham Baker, it wasn't a handout that earned me the very prize you seek. I didn't beg for a shot at world gold. I fought tooth and bone to gain my throne with no one fighting my battles for me, and no one campaigning with me on my warpath of dominance. I didn't have a reputation to lean on, a snazzy resume that read like an obituary, or a trainer in my corner giving me undeserved clout. No, I paved my way to where I am today, and someone holding onto a belt with a clear desperation for relevancy while surrounded by a sea of like-minded cowards with a martyr complex doesn't make me any less of a champion. Even now without a physical belt, my title means more than anything you've ever held because it's still living, breathing, and upheld through my actions. You remind me of that kid Nobi, skipping around with that championship that may as well be a replica, as if it means something. Nothing about my reign is paper, nothing about my dominance is in question, and everything to do with how Nathan Fiora came into possession with my belt proves who the true coward is and it isn't me, but somehow everyone's wrapped up in possessions despite my every word and action decrying them even before I earned my title."

(The Derelict runs his hands through his beard, snuffing out the growing flames in the process, leaving a mangy and smoky beard behind, half of which crumbles in his hands as he extinguishes it.)

"If you're so hung up on trinkets, you and Padre could've waited for me to pawn off that belt for hooch money. I'm sure you two wouldn't mind entering a bidding war for a hollow prize. Those are the only kinds you two can seem to muster anyway. I'll hold onto the only religion that ever made sense to me, the one that lives and breathes so long as I do, and that's my reign. Eight days, Graham. Eight days until you see the err of your ways. Eight days until you see the light and understand that my congregation of one remains such because I choose to be my own god and raise myself above the bullshit of mass hysteria. Eight days until you understand that we could've waited until a pay-per-view and you would've gotten a bigger payday for losing. Eight days until the doomsday clock strikes twelve and we find ourselves atop Olympus as the world around us turns to salt and ash. I don't give a shit who you are, but in eight days you'll understand who I am and where I stand in OWA. You say cowards hide behind the words of their followers, and I can't help but agree. In eight days I show you why Sal Abzu reveres me instead of taking up thirty minutes of television time for a car chase to feel important. I run from no man, I chase no man, and I fear no man because I am the omega man. Pretenders approach my throne and challenge it, not the other way around. That's why I'm not walking into the Awakening's den and demanding they hand over a belt. That's why you're here and I'm not over there. The sun may rise in the east, but it clearly didn't hang around for to long. When the sun finally sets and the smoke clears to reveal my throne intact, there will be a championship belt will have been lain at my feet by a freshly fallen enemy. The pity is that you wont' be around to see that, Graham. Not after this week. Not after what I do to you to set an example to all of the naysayers and talking heads who think they know how to handle themselves as a true champion of the world, despite never being in my shoes. There's a reason I'm here and they aren't. There's a reason I'll still be here in nine days. You though, Graham? You? You don't get the pleasure of seeing the next sunrise. I'm sure they'll give you a big send-off though. A long onyx Cadillac, a diamond coffin, and an emerald tomb. You've already laid the ground work and dug yourself a hole with a golden shovel, all the while flapping that silver tongue of yours. They'll serve filet and lobster tails at the wake, but it'll all taste like ash, because in the end that's what it'll be."

(Derelict begins walking off back into the darkness. Before completely disappearing into the void, he kicks over an until now unseen bucket of water and extinguishes the flames. From the darkness he still speaks, unseen and unwavering.)

"I don't say any of this to spook you, to convert you, or to deter you. As a matter of fact, I'm sure none of this will. You strike me as very bull-headed and unflappable, dead set on letting your mouth write checks that your body can't cash. That's fine. You wont be the first in a long line of world traveled athletes who've died by my hand. I shut them up, made some of'em go away for good. One even ran away to an island and changed his name from what I hear. You talk about reputation? Well, my reputation is being a man who crushes the souls of little boys with big aspirations. The things that you think make you special are all uniformly the same. To you this is a sporting game to be won, but I'm just some big dumb animal whose fighting to survive. To me it's not about honor, money, or fame. To me what's on the line is very visceral, and soon you'll understand as you resort to lows you can't even presently fathom just to walk away from our match alive. That's what's on the line when you're in the ring with me. One of us lives and one of us dies, and so far every single time I've stepped into the ring with those stakes on the line I've come out the victor. Have you ever made that wager, Graham? I mean, before now, because even before you came to the table the ante was set for you. Now all that's left to ponder is if you'll know when it's truly over, or if you'll merely fade into the void."

VaeVictisBD, Eon Blue and TTtheT have spoken. It’s such good shit!

Re: OWA Promos October 18th 2020, 2:57 pm by **Mark Michaels**

“ so wait, This asshole runs around yapping nonstop off for an audience consisting of himself. And people say I’m full of myself? Cute gimmick Chase, I might have actually laughed if it was... you know, funny. So I’m facing Chase Vedder, the man who heard Donald Trump talk about fake news and decided to become the living embodiment of that idea. The Wannabe Alex Jones of OWA who despite his alleged wealth couldn’t even pay some douchebag off the street 5 bucks to stand around with a mic and interview him. I won’t lie that whole thing with you interviewing yourself was pretty sad. It’s like when a 9 year old who has no friends has to play with himself. So yeah you’re a jerkoff in that regard. See that’s how you do comedy Chase, set up and then punchline, not those sorry ass attempts at put downs. Not the selective memory that looks back at one show where I lost a battle royal, while overlooking the next when I pinned the OMEGA heavyweight champion. And certainly not your little “Mark only has a 4 percent chance of victory” polls that earn you 100 percent of my foot up your ass. Who is Mark Michaels you asked. I could ask who the fuck is Chase Vedder? I’m sure I could go on the street and tell people about our match up and the people would look at me befuddled before asking why the guy from Pearl Jam wants to wrestle? You don’t know me Chase? Don’t worry, You’re gonna find out exactly who I am. There’s actually all lot that you’re gonna find out come the time the bell rings. Like how There are somethings in life, not many but few, that are an inevitability. One of those things is that if you try and stand against the Awakening, you don’t stay standing for long. We have been crushing it since we all came together, Take a good look at recent history. Finnegan Wakefield was looked on to be the next great, long reigning undercard champion that Professional Wrestling has been clamoring for, then he ran into the Awakening, and now Noah Quinn stands as your reigning and defending Television champion. Stark Mocked Father Nathan with all kinds of bullshit, and now he’ll be lucky if his jaw will be sturdy enough to hold soup come this time next year. Derelict had what we wanted, and while he may be technically be a champion, it’s in name only because we have the OMEGA Heavyweight Championship in our camp, and what’s more I’ll say it again, in my last match I pinned his hobo ass right in the middle of the ring just a few weeks ago! From where I’m standing The Awakening should be named the OMEGA Heavyweight Champions right here and now! Since Nathan, Eon, Noah, and myself have become a unit, we have elevated in every conceivable way. We’ve always had the tools, and we’ve always had the raw talent, it together we have become more than the sum of our parts. We have a winning culture and mindset. We rise up and claim victories when everyone bet against us, and my god is it ever so satisfying when I see their jaws left hanging. Thanks to the teachings of Father Nathan, we have unlocked our full potential, and it has lead us to dominating everyone in our path.
Just look at, if you really want to look at how far you can fall when you try to test the Awakening, your sugar daddy Nas himself. In the blink of an eye he has gone from a man who had the crowd behind him, his wife at his side, a reputation as one of the finest OWA has ever had to offer, and there was still so much more, no pun intended, ahead of him. But just a week after his run in with Father Nathan’s inner circle, he has lost everything. It wasn’t so much a downward spiral as it was his whole life getting power flushed down the crapper. When I think about it, I weap just a bit that a man who had such a bright future, made such a foolish mistake and squandered it all. So if this great man can be humbled in such a way, then how would anyone with half a brain expect one of his new lackeys to fair?
Chase Tell me something buddy, from the moment you fizzled out of OWA to present, why choose right now to saunter you way back here and start suckling on Nas’ teat about as hard as you sell Scott Oasis’ snake oil? I mean it was probably something as simple as because you’ve had your head stuck in the sand when you’ve decided that it was time to try and make another go of it. You were probably completely unaware that Olympus is arguably the most top heavy brand in OWA and didn’t realize that there really isn’t a place for a bottom feeder like you to carve a niche right now. Or maybe it’s because of that fact that you saddled yourself upon a falling star who is quickly losing favor with everyone from the boardroom, to the locker room, to the bedroom like his respect and reputation was part of a fire sale. Maybe that last one is the reason why Nas would be desperate enough to let you rub his back and pat him on the ass, and do cockamamie pieces on VNN. Whatever the case is for you and Nas’ entanglement, it sure as hell won’t do you any damn good in either the long or short term. He already failed in trying to stop the Awakening, and he’s doomed to repeat that history by surrounding himself with guys like you who tend to little more than collect a check, waste perfectly good oxygen, and then go running back across the ocean because you’re so pathetic you couldn’t even Handle being a scrub getting a payday. You may as well have struck out on your own, at least then when the time comes for you to quit again, the world could have seen you as being your own man, and not seen as just someone else’s bitch.

You don’t know me? Now I won’t lie, I’m not particularly familiar with you either. But I did bother asked around, and the word in the locker room is that you’re some kind of wanna be bully. Now far be it from me to judge a mother fucker who probably peaked in high school when he could just shove a few nerds into lockers and it might have made him feel like a man for all of 30 seconds. but when you step into that ring with me, just know that I not a man who folds under pressure. I don’t get my tights in twist when ignorant fools utter bullshit Insults. Nor do I let assholes with reputations like yours talk all that crap, without back handing them upside their empty heads. At this point in my career I’ve heard just about everything that can be said about me as both a wrestler and as a person. And every time I’ve heard the mindless rhetoric of jackasses like you it has done nothing other than to make me that much more motivated to make them eat those words before I either pin them, or make them scream in submission. So you’re a bully? Well when you are a man and not some punk as roaming around the locker room, you couldn’t give two shits about a bully. Especially when you’ve already been in the ring with everything from the savviest in ring generals you’ll find in any promotion, to the most gifted athletes who week in and week out display just what the human body can achieve if it is developed properly, to the sickest and most demented fucks this side of the nut house. If I’ve not just survived but thrived against the these kinds of opponents, then why should I give a fuck about some sackless, pissant, bully who hasn’t learned anything from the last two times he flopped in OWA? You know what, don’t hurt yourself trying to think of an answer, because there is nothing you present that I should give fuck all about. There isn’t a goddamn reason why I should fret getting into the ring with a guy who doesn’t have the talent to hang with me in the ring, nor the heart to actually make it a fight.
I dare you to prove me wrong mother fucker. I dare you to try and step up to me. I’d be more than happy to take your best shot right before I stomp in your skull with the Downfall. Step up because where I’d usually be happy to showcase how I am the greatest technical wrestler alive today before locking in the Liberation Has Begun, right now I am fixing on cutting through one opponent after another in route that Hybrid Championship. So that means I’m not planning on wasting any time before I damn near tear you arm from your body. I’m not here to have a good showing, I’m not here to have a good run that sees me come close but miss the prize. I’m not here to be stuck carrying sacks of crap like you to watchable matches. I’m here to win that belt plain and simple. I’ll say it again, come at me mother fucker, but make sure you come correct because I’m not your everyday, run of the mill, Sacrificial lamb offered up to make you look good. Go see Shaker Jones if you want that. No, I’m the guy who will not give up, will not surrender, and is too stubborn to allow his shoulders to lay on the mat for those 3 seconds. I have been battle tested and right now I am as hungry for victory as I’ve ever been.

So do yourself a favor this week Chase. Stick to playing Nas’ side piece. You’re better at being a wannabe mistress than a wannabe wrestler. Stay in your lane, and spare my ears from another one of those lame ass VNN skits that do nothing other than waste precious minutes of the lives of anyone who even bothers to listen will never get back. Since you’re probably too dumb to understand what I’m saying I’ll speak plainly, keep you’re mouth shut because I will hold you accountable for every single syllable that proceeds from it. If You go on talking shit about me, I’ll kick the ever loving shit out of you. That’s the deal, there’s no negotiating it. Chase, your comeback tour is gonna get derailed before it even begins, and your path to the Hybrid Championship is gonna get stopped dead in its tracks when you get a dose of the Lethal Injection come Olympus.”

Eon Blue has spoken. It’s such good shit!

Re: OWA Promos October 18th 2020, 7:03 am by **Michelangelo**

OWA Promos 0mQWPXLOdDU8N0qRcgeqHcSMS9teHxtiO2H51PZz6SZCixBIF0oAN-btgi87dazFG9lkUxmA1QpXcRs1i5yHQl383kjY69bjggZWwpxbsAPox1LY3edyKiC6XBd1m88uHvSukJse

Dramatic music begins playing, slowly growing louder and louder with beeps and whistles before the ‘VNN’ logo twists into full view around a red-and-white-coloured globe.

“Ladies and gentlemen, this is the Vedder News Network with Chase Vedder! Don’t believe everything you hear!”

The camera fades in to reveal Chase Vedder sitting behind a VNN-branded news desk with a flashy background with several screens that all appear to be replaying clips from OWA television. Chase straightens up the notes on his desk and looks to the hard camera with a pretentious grin spread wide across his face.

“You’re watching VNN with Chase Vedder. It’s time for the headlines.”

We cut away from Vedder to… also Chase Vedder, as a silent video of a sit-down interview with him plays.

“The biggest story tonight: A one-on-one interview with Chase Vedder reveals how CM Nas convinced him to return to OWA after an almost three year hiatus.”

We then go to flashes of a poll, then an image of CM Nas walking along a red carpet and posing, and then to a group of scientists examining a box of BOB Supplements before returning to the news desk.

“Also tonight: A poll on the outcome of Chase Vedder versus Mark Michaels on the upcoming episode of Olympus, why CM Nas is the great visionary of our generation, and just what exactly makes Big Oasis Brand supplements so effective? With that all out of the way, we go to our headline as Chase Vedder interviews the man who returned this past Tuesday, Chase Vedder.”

The camera flashes and we fade back to an expertly cut interview of Chase Vedder... with Chase Vedder. Interviewer Chase is dressed in a fancy black suit. He smiles to the camera.

“Hello everyone, Chase Vedder here with the man whom many call the “South African Sage”, formally known as Chase Vedder. First of all, Chase, I must ask how you’ve been all these years?”

The camera cuts to the Chase being interviewed. He’s dressed in a pair of suit pants, brown crocodile shoes and a blue turtleneck with a gold chain around his neck and a pair of clubmaster sunglasses sitting on his face. He has a leg crossed and is leaning back in his chair, clearly feeling relaxed. He lets out a friendly chuckle and responds.

“Well, Chase, these past few years have been a great opportunity for me to look inwards and remember who I am. The last time I was here in OWA I was without a true voice of my own. I had tried so hard to fit in over my childhood with the ways of America that I lost who I was at heart. I have done much rediscovering since my sudden departure, returning to my first home of South Africa and reclaiming what was rightfully mine. With that being said, I could not be better!”

“Wow, what an inspirational story and I must say that is fantastic news. As a big fan of yours it brings me great pleasure to hear that you are doing well. To more pressing matters, though, I think the question on everyone’s mind after the airing of this past Olympus is quite obvious. How was CM Nas able to convince you to rejoin the Omega Wrestling Alliance after being gone for so long?”

Chase silently ponders over Chase’s question, putting his leg and rubbing his chin.

“Ha. Well, I must be honest with you, Chase, and say that I never had any intentions of returning to professional wrestling ever again when I left here. As I said previously, I had returned to South Africa and my goals in life had shifted tremendously. Wrestling again did not even cross my mind… until I got a phone call one evening from a very distraught Nas — he and I have always been incredibly close, like brothers — and he’s struggling to speak, like he’s just experienced the most traumatic event. “Chase! Chase!” he blurts out, “my wife, she just tried to attack me! And my best friend too! I had to defend myself and now I don’t know what to do! Chase, you are my best friend and my most trusted compatriot. I need your help!” so, being the great friend that I am, I packed up my things and said that I would be right over. Despite being sick of these Americans and their insistence that I “violate human rights”, friendship is ultimately what brought me back. Of course, now I realise there is so much more work to be done than just defending my best friend. OWA has been stricken with a deadly disease and it grows bigger and stronger with every day that passes. That is why Nas, Nero Darkbringer, Cyrus Raines and myself have formed an alliance together to return this once great sport to its golden age.”

“You truly are a great friend and Mr. CM Nas is lucky to have you by his side. I can’t even begin to imagine how elated he must be by your grand return.”

The Chase being interviewed playfully slaps the compliment away with his hand.

“Oh, Chase, you’re too kind!”

“Men like yourself deserve such kindness, Chase. There are people out there who forget that you are the rightful first OWA World Heavyweight Champion and many consider you the true leader of the Tres Comas Club during SSW’s second iteration!”

“I don’t know about all that… but if they did they would be right. I really was the leader, wasn’t I? I was the most talented, the most handsome, and most importantly of all I was the most wealthy! That fiend known as André Virgo was often miscredited as the man spearheading that faction but truth be told I was the one holding all the cards. When that monster Gronk manhandled me like the dumb brute that he is, what did I do? Did I cower in fear and cry? No! I went to OWA and defeated the very man that you saw standing beside me just mere days ago to, as you just said, earn my place in a fatal four way for the World Heavyweight Championship! Now look at me. Upon my return I am immediately placed for the Hybrid Championship, although my competition is much less… appealing, to say the least.”

“I think we can all agree with you there, my colleague and I especially. Make no mistake though, Chase, your return match still has massive implications… it is just unfortunate that your opponent is rather lacking. Mike Marcus was his name, I believe? Mick MacManus? No, no… it’s on the tip of my tongue... Mark Michaels! Yes, you will face off against Mark Michaels in the first round of the OWA Hybrid Championship Tournament. What are your thoughts on your upcoming match against him?”

“I will be completely and totally honest with you, Chase, and admit that I have no idea who this man is. One of my many international associates has told me that he is a member of The Awakening and that came as a surprise to me as I was under the impression that they only had four! With the “Father” Nathan Fiora as the leader, Mr. Quinn and Mr. Blue as his trusted disciples and their boy as the muscle, is there really any need for a fifth member, especially one so utterly useless? I was recently able to catch the Game Over event and saw Quinn and Blue work together to capture the Television Championship while Mikey Mitchells was… on the pre-show. To make matters worse, he could not even win! He made it all the way to the end and then choked like a rattlesnake had just bit deep into his jugular. What a disappointment. --Wait!”

“Yes, Chase?”

“Was that meathead Michaels the fool who helped Fiora defeat that subhuman scum, Stark? The one with the nose shaped like Libya?”

“Yes, he does have a nose shaped like Libya! I’ve never noticed that before! What an apt comparison!”

“Haha, well, at least he’s useful for one thing. Getting rid of one of those creatures is the least that tool could do. Though from what I hear there are already plans set in place for Stark to be replaced in the Phantom Troupe — you didn’t hear that from me though. If that is really the biggest moment of that man’s career here in OWA when I imagine he’s been here for at least a good few months then I do not see him breaking out any time soon, especially not at the South African Sage’s expense. I am a cut above, a talent of a different caliber, and I will not succumb to the efforts of such a horse-faced radish like Michael Monocle. While I naturally have respect for Nathan Fiora’s charisma and charm, I am not foolish enough to be tricked by his thinly-veiled lies the same way that this brainless bum has been. That alone is enough to prove that he’s below me. He is practically a nameless goon following a false prophet while I’m the Cape Vulture. I manifest my own destiny. If that means Nero Darkbringer and myself destroying Mike Markles on the way to the Hybrid Championship then so be it.”

“Bold, bold words from Chase Vedder. Thank you so much for your time. Chase, it’s back to you in the studio.”

“Thank you, Chase! What an insightful interview from OWA’s very own Chase Vedder. Next up, let’s take a look at what the OWA fans had to say about the match-up of Chase Vedder and Mitch Montgomery!”

The screen transitions to a mostly blank poll, with the question “Can Mark Michaels defeat Chase Vedder on the Tuesday, October 27th edition of Olympus?” all that is currently visible. A large red bar shoots from one side of the screen to about quarter of the way across.

“We can reveal that a solid twenty-seven percent believe that Chase Vedder will whip Mark Michaels’ buttocks like a lazy racehorse. A good starting number, I must say. Let’s see what’s next…”

Another bar shoots across the screen, almost making it all the across… before it pulls back to barely even a centimeter.

“An embarrassingly low four percent think that Mark Michaels could, in fact, stand a chance against the South African Sage.”

A third and seemingly final bar darts across, reaching somewhere between two thirds and a quarter across.

“And the most popular answer with an incredible but unsurprising sixty-nine percent… many simply responded asking “Who the fuck is Mark Michaels?” Wow. Their words, not mine, though I think that tells us all we need to know, ladies and gentlemen. It’s on to our next story as we find out just what is inside of the Big Oasis Brand supplements that makes them so astonishingly effective. That’s coming right after the break.”

Chase salutes towards the screen and we fade out. The scene ends.

Aria Jaxon has spoken. It’s such good shit!

"Gotta say, they know star-power when they see it."

A dark room. A leather arm-chair, with little natural light from a portal window. Graham Baker, dressed in a white tank-top, dark blue jeans and a pair of wrestling boots. He’s still bearing some of the wounds from his violent street fight against Darkane, but he looks determined. A cold fire burns behind his eyes. With a cigarette between the index-and-middle on his right hand, and zippo lighter cradled in his left, we can only assume Baker’s intents. The lighter’s lid is lifted, and we can see him manipulating the wheel with his left thumb, gentle sparks clattering forth from it.

"I come toe to toe with Darkane, the Grave-Worm, and I do exactly what I said I was going to do. We brawl, I smash a fucking extinguisher in his face, he hits me with a shovel, and when I’ve had enough, I kick him in the testes and call it a night. The method doesn’t matter as long as the results produce. Naturally, Darkane wasn’t happy, and he decided to act like a coward and gang up on Noah Reigner with his boy, Senn.

I don’t like Noah, but going to Hell with a guy gives you some sense of respect, and Noah never jumped me unless I’d earned a beating from behind. I wasn’t about to let some cowards kill the clown I’d spent so long pursuing, and I certainly wasn’t going to let this teaching moment get away from me. The men in OWA? They have a lot to learn about true honor, true guts, and true glory. That’s for damn sure."

Baker lights the cigarette, and puts it between his lips. He inhales. It cherries. The smoke floods from his mouth like a dragon's breath. He pauses for a moment, and then he continues.

“But it’s not about Reigner, or Senn. Hell, it ain’t even really about Darkane. What it is about is the gold, and the grit. Derelict, my man, how’re you doing? Been a rough couple weeks-getting fried in an electric cage only for some ass-clown to take your belt away. You’ve been letting him drag your name through the mud, haven’t ya? Walk around with the title-in name and in possession around his waist while you wallow in your misery? Have some goofy fuck do the talking for ya, because you’re too tongue-tied to speak for yourself?

It’s no wonder that Fiore took what belongs to you, no shade in my mind as to how he’s allowed to galavant all around this company displaying something that you earned as his own with no recompense but shallow threats from the jerkoff clown that represents you. You’re used to living in the shallows, right? Cardboard box to cardboard box, riding on the train with a burlap sack over your shoulder waitin’ for someone to pity you and throw a few coins your way? Begging for handouts at the soup kitchen ‘cause you can’t stand on your own? Embarrassing. At least when I hit rock bottom, I had the decency to keep myself out of the prying eyes of the public so that no one could see me in all my fuckin’ shame.

You’ve lived like a scavenger for so long, Derelict, preying on the scraps of others and the kindness of those who’s hearts haven’t been so hardened by this world. In it, though, you lost what you are. You might look like one of us, walk like one of us and act like one of us, but the truth of what you’ve become is more than skin deep. It’s more than surface level. It’s bubbling below-and even if you ignore it, you and I both know the words I speak are true.

You’re no man, not anymore.”

The cigarette smoke drifts into the air as Baker takes another pull, before he continues.

“If you were a man, Derelict, you’d keep your house in order. If you were a man, you’d have stomped into Olympus this week and tore Fiore’s head clean off his shoulders the moment you saw him. Hell, if you were a man, you wouldn’t have even let it get this far. You’d have hunted day and night to find him, drag him from the comfort of his home and press boot to skull until the sidewalk was coated in a thin pink mist. A man, Derelict, takes the responsibility bestowed upon him and carries it out.

He does not make excuses.

He does not make mistakes.

He does not hide behind others.

And, most certainly, he doesn’t let false truths stand for as long as they have, he doesn’t let a man like Nathan Fiore, who’s done nothing worthwhile of this office survive as long as he has without punishment. I would say I pity you, Derelict, but I don’t. I don’t pity you for how foolish you look, how inept you’ve acted, how much of a failure you truly are. I wouldn’t shed a tear for you now, and I certainly won’t mourn the cold corpse they lower six feet deep after our match on October 27th.

I spare no regretful feelings for failures.”

Another pull. More smoke. Baker’s eyes remain focused.

“When I came to OWA, I was riding high on a reputation I’d earned, working day in and day out in the halls of Japan, continent-hopping to keep this career going to the point that I could afford to get there. In my first day in the fucking country, I said that I would make everyone who ever doubted me regret ever doing so, and I did. I ran roughshod through SSW, I beat people who’d never even anticipated that I’d be a shape in their rear-view, and I’ve done the same here.

I dragged the Heritage Championship from the rut that Kai Stevens had left it in, and I made it revered. I made it the most defended, longest-reigning, hardest-fucking-hitting championship in all of SSW. There was not a single person in that company who could say they’d worked harder than me, and that was without the hand-holding of the office, or a big ol’ gang to back me up from the start. Just Graham Baker in his lonesome with a nasty knee to the brain and a one-two-three to the opponent, to shock and fuckin’ awe from everyone involved.

As it was then, it once again is now. No one expected me to put Darkane away-and methodology aside, I did. At the end of the night, one of us was left standing, and it wasn’t the multi-time world champion. It wasn’t the so-called ‘Graveworm’, no, the wolf didn’t crush the lamb.

Truly, the Guillotine came dropping for revered flesh, and it found home.

No one expects me to beat you either, but I can’t understand why. I mean, after all, you’ve shown them how truly weak you are. An imposing frame holding the frailest dregs of a soul, unable to clutch the treasures that you’ve earned close to your chest long enough to make an impression. OWA is desperate for someone like me, someone who’ll take the actions that you can’t, someone who’ll assure the continued legacy of the Heavyweight Championship out of the hands of vultures and vagabonds. Those ten pounds of gold shouldn’t tour the halls of soup kitchens or the ‘studios’ of a Soundcloud artist. They should stand tall on the shoulder of a man who will carry them from ring to ring, promotion to promotion, displaying them as the greatest championship in the history of our sport.

That man isn’t you, Derelict. And it certainly isn’t Fiore.

It’s me.”

Baker lets the cigarette hang loose for a moment as he contemplates his next words, before speaking outward once again.

“When you meet me, Derelict, in ten days’ time, please come alone. Bring your fists, bring your gold if you can recover it, and bring your energy. I’m confident that I’ll crush you under a hail of blows, that the lariats I throw will be enough to shatter what remains of your frame, that once I wrap my hands around your throat I’ll be able to press and hold long enough to send the last breaths of your ragged lungs hissing forth from your body. I know that this match will stand to reason as your last, the hardest and truest conflict you’ve faced between these four ropes, the strongest war you’ll have to fight, and you will weather damage, the likes of which you’ve never before felt.

Let me make this clear, however-no matter the certainty of the outcome, I want a fight.

I don’t want this to be easy. I want the last bit of violence in your abused frame, the last few sour breaths from your ravaged throat exhaled between those four ropes with me, the last moments of your career to be conscious, intentional, brutal. Give ‘em a show, right? Even if they know the conclusion, as they should, we still want to have one last guess before you end up ass over head, cold, dead.

You’ll feel what a real man, one made of the clay beneath our feet, fired in the kilns of true competition can do. You’ll feel what you’ve missed out on for so many years spent furious at the world, wasting away instead of doing something about it, turning your anger outward instead of inward. You’ll realize what a cancer you are, not just on this company but on this society-and once I’ve broken you, crushed your bones to dust and your flesh to paste-you’ll know that it was an act of dire, true necessity.

You’ll know there was no way around it.

You’ll know that this was a needed evil.

And, even if you don’t understand it-if from a hospital bed or from the streets you once roamed-you’ll know this is an act of mercy to send you back into the places you belong, back to the boxcars you’ve called refuge, the state homes you’ve called shelter. You had your chance, and you proved that you’re no man capable of handling this responsibility.

You’re a dreg of society. Your bottle’s run empty, kicked down the street too many times and spilled free of its contents. OWA ran you dry, and even if it was over a short time-I get it. Not everyone can handle the stresses of a championship, not every person is meant to be a standard-bearer, carrying the flag for the next generation. You can close your eyes and rest well knowing that you tried, in some misguided fashion.

But the day is done, Derelict. You’ve done your worst, you tried your best.

Now you can return to rest.”

Baker holds the cigarette up once more, and takes one more pull. He leans back with a smile on his face-a malicious glint of eye and tooth visible in the sparse light of the room.

“You can sleep forever knowing that you’ve left your belt in willing, ready, and capable hands. You can close your eyes for the final time knowing that your legacy is safe.

But not yet.

Ten days, Derelict.

Keep those eyes open, dead ahead, just a bit longer.

Your journey’s almost at its end.”

We catch one last glimpse of Graham Baker as he ignites his cigarette once again, taking one more pull from it, the light around him fading down to nearly nothing before we see the cherry of his cigarette one more time-and then, we cut to black.

VaeVictisBD and Noah Reigner have spoken. It’s such good shit!

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