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 July 15th 2020, 7:04 am by **Zumi**

There are chapters to everyone’s career. The beginning, the middle, and the end. For a lot of people, they are in the middle or early stages of their careers with years left in them. For a few, they seem to be nearing the end, or just finishing up the middle chapter. There was this amazing core of women who defined an entire era, who showed the company of elites that Women’s Wrestling was on par after years of neglecting them. Slowly but surely that era is moving away from the ring. Brody passed away, Haruna retired two years ago, Tarah retired in April and all that’s left is Stephanie, Aria, April, and me. Those three are firmly in the middle of their career but for me? Who knows, even I don’t know where I’m at with my career. I have everything inside of me that says I can go for another decade but time will tell. The hourglass might just be flipped over to give me more time or the sand that’s remaining is all I have left. Only time will tell but I still have so much to accomplish before it all fades away. Goals, ambitions and so much more all for the legacy that I will on this business when my time comes.

I fought and clawed through everything, I have my own scars and so much more. I never had to do deathmatches to really step out for success. I won’t lie, just a little bit of blood gets a bit sick.

You had a lot to say about me, right? Questioning my beliefs, and such but you’re allowed that. You’re allowed that freedom to say what you feel like about me in the same that I’m allowed to say what I want about you. Today we’re going to discuss… Jessy Saxon - Odyssey’s greatest failure. You could have been it, you could have been the perfect new star, the one that the fans wanted to see as their person after Natalie got corrupted with greed and power but whenever you went to take that big leap forward, what happened? You fell and instead of getting back up, you walked away thinking that you’ll do it all over in a few months. You didn’t beat Dulce the first time, so you changed up things and tried up again a few months ago after being in the shadow. You won the title that you wanted but lost it to April, you changed things again. There was hope that you would win and challenge for the women’s title but again you failed and this time you said you would be leaving indefinitely. You have this constant repeating cycle, Jessy Saxon. Everything you think I am is true, I want to be selfish because if I’m not selfish in trying to be the best wrestler then I don’t deserve to be here. I don’t deserve to compete, so don’t give the whole “Azumi Goto is a horrible woman” thing because everyone in this company is selfish and greedy. Everyone wants to be the best and being champion is how they can prove that they are the best. Yeah, I don’t know those belts you had because you know why? Because I don’t want to be some sort of belt collector. I just need one singular World title to make my case and that’s the OWA Women’s World Championship. Doesn’t matter which nation or so because when I was OWA Women’s World Champion, do you know what Odyssey was able to accomplish? We put on a show of the year candidate in the form of Pluto’s Gate. The first year of Odyssey had one pillar to help the rest of the smaller pillars up, it was me.

I can say that with confidence in myself but please… go ahead, call me selfish. Call me selfish for wanting to put my personal life ahead of myself, for wanting to put my personal goals and my responsibilities as the chairwoman of the biggest all-women’s promotion in the world over my own career. Can you say that Jessy? Your responsibilities are and will continue to just be a wrestler. Mine? I have to train girls, I have to help my promotion grow and spread the name of JET. I chose that over my own goals as an in-ring competitor after Final Destination I but sure if you look at Natalie Cage’s rise to power alongside Viola DeMarco now, I made that mistake of trusting Natalie and Viola to take care of Odyssey.

At that moment after she won the belt, I saw Odyssey’s future being with Natalie Cage over me. I did the job OWA signed me for, I helped usher in a new breed of wrestlers that took OWA by storm as the recognizable name who competed on the biggest stages in the world but sure… Azumi Goto is self-centered. I helped Odyssey’s then-future as the locker room leader but I’m the one who decided to take a vacation from wrestling and gets called out but your little “retirement” is going to be sent free without any judgment against it. How times do you want to leave when you couldn’t take a small loss? How many more times are you going to tease the fans with that nonsense? You decided to instead of getting right back after losing, you would leave for a bit. Come back with a new look and maybe things would be different. Sure I’m innocent in this whole thing, I wrestled under a name that wasn’t my own but my excuse was that I was 18-years old and still liked Sailor Moon.

What’s your excuse, Roni Ozborn or is it Roni Von Bizzare? The only thing that’s bizarre is your defensive nature in this angsty “you don’t know me” mode when I talk about you.

I know you well. You’re someone who doesn’t have in them to take a loss and get back to fight again. You should be competing for the Women’s World Title, you could have been in my spot in the chamber match but instead, you weren’t. You were watching the show in the front row as Odyssey closed a major OWA event in your hometown. It’s amazing because if I was in your spot and an OWA event was in Okinawa and I wasn’t on the card, I would have taken my shot. But you really didn’t… you left after Final Destination II. You did exactly what I did but I’m the one you want to call out. Look at yourself for a second. Did you retire for a whole month and then realized that maybe you should give it another shot? Congrats Jessy, you’re nothing more than a failed experiment of people who couldn’t hack it in the big leagues but talk this amazing game about their pedigree on the indy scene. At least when I talk about my past, people know what I did my time in JET but they also know what I was able to accomplish away from JET.

You should be the Odyssey star I want to think about handing the reigns as Ace to when I’m done and it wasn’t because of your whole week as the Aerial Ace but then I realized that I can’t trust someone who’s inconsistent at best. I was watching Odyssey when I was in your words, being “self-centered”. I saw this unique girl with a look that no one on the Odyssey roster had and I saw hints of a girl who had every single tool in the book to be great. You were the first prediction I got wrong, Jessy.

You see one of my jobs as JET’s Chairwoman is as a talent scout and so many girls I faced or I’ve interacted with I’ve predicted they would be huge. My first opponent in OWA, Diantha Moreau, a girl who I haven’t stopped singing the praises about since I first faced her. Diantha headlined Final Destination II and stole the show. Sure she was screwed out of her reign as Women’s Champion by Eris but she was got that first title win. My own little sister is someone I said could end up being bigger than me and she’s arguably OWT’s biggest star. Someone those two are bigger but that’s because they haven’t quit on themselves like you seem to do everything.

So you want to enjoy what you do in the ring? So you weren’t doing that in the place when competing on Odyssey? There seems to be something fundamentally wrong with you if that’s the case. So much self-hate because “you weren’t enjoying yourself”. This whole career is a dream come true for so many and you didn’t enjoy competing before. So maybe ditching your “fake name” for who you once were is gonna be different but I will be extremely disappointed if all it results in is another absence and return. Maybe it isn’t the name but rather the person, maybe you’re making excuses about your shortcomings. But what do you I know? You’ll just be “you don’t know me, Azumi” if I say anything and that’s probably how you’ll back out.

No one has had more moments where it was close for it all to slip away than me but did I walked away when I couldn’t beat Natalie Cage last December? No, I continued pushing. That’s something you seem to lack, Jessy. You don’t want to push, you say you’re doing this for your enjoyment but I don’t see it. This could be another excuse or it might be true.

I’ll let you say what you want about my beliefs and such because it isn’t my job to change your mind.

You say you didn’t enjoy competing because it wasn’t who you were. What stopped you from just being who you are then? It wasn’t management! Through the ten years, I’ve been in this world of pro-wrestling, my love, and my enjoyment has never died. I’ve been myself for nine of those ten years, the one where I wasn’t myself, I acted as a Sailor Moon cosplay but I still enjoyed it. You’re bullshitting yourself if you think beating me is gonna be easy especially since you said something worse than you imagine. Saying I’ve spit in Manami-sensei’s legacy, maybe it might your way to get be all rilled up but you need to see how gotten me interested in putting you down. That woman is the world to me and without her, there wouldn’t be an Azumi Goto. There wouldn’t be a Stephanie Matsuda, that Miss Manami’s legacy is what I want mine to be measured up to when people look at me. As the woman who has been honored with being her successor, it makes me quite angry that you dare to make a comment like that.

My love and passion for business didn’t die and it never will, it just evolved. The feeling of being champion, the ability to say that you’re the best at what you do. I strived to be nothing more than being the best at my craft.

This isn’t about me, I’ve proven that I can go in that ring like no other. This match is about you, Jessy Saxon you have the opportunity to step up and prove something. I know I can beat you, this is about if you can FINALLY and I really mean FINALLY step up.

And if you can’t beat me, you could always change your name and persona and try again.

Emmanuelle has spoken. It’s such good shit!

Re: OWA Promos July 15th 2020, 2:06 am by **Aria Jaxon**

SECOND SUCKS -- MEXICO CITY, MEXICO.

“When we usher in chaos, just know that we did it smiling. Cannibals on this island, inmates run the asylum.” -- Run the Jewels.

***

I’m striking a precarious balance right now.

The best -- or worst of both worlds has been dropped on my doorstep. I’m playing a game that’s dangerous two times over. By design, this Asylum match is the kind of affair that could change or end your career if you make one wrong step. I not only have to sprout eyes in the back of my head due to all the prospective bloodshed that comes along with that, but I have to contend with the very real truth that Moongoose’s cartoon villain ass isn’t the only one with something to lose here.

The name may be different and its standing may have changed, but one thing remains -- the Outlaw Championship is up for grabs 24/7. That’s the ghost that remains from this championship’s past life. I get it, the OWA World Championship is what’s on the marquee. You can’t get any higher than that on the totem pole in this company. The promise of getting to hold it is what brought this motley crew of participants together, but make no mistake.

I have absolutely no intention of leaving the Asylum with less than when I entered it.

There are men in this match who are dying for a break. There might come a point in that grueling match where they may look at me, remember the Outlaw Championship, and try to beat my ass to make sure the long flight to Mexico City isn’t a complete loss. But gentlemen, if my current belt-hoarding endeavors have clued you into anything, it’s that I’m greedy. I’ve never tried to pretend that I wasn’t. I’m a championship chaser. The people who say that titles aren’t everything are the clowns who never win them. Belts may not be everything, but they’re something. They’re tangible proof that you amounted to something in this industry. Being worth your literal weight in gold means that you made your time in the ring worth it. Over and over again, I’ve felt that elation that came with being able to call myself a champion, but this time is heavier than all the others. I have to keep the Outlaw Championship safe while proudly representing the Puroresu Heavyweight Championship and trying to win the OWA World Championship for a second task. What a quest, right? It’s the kind of shit that would make a lesser competitor shake in their boots, but to me, it just sounds like a prophecy waiting to be fulfilled. I’ll emerge from the Asylum’s wreckage as a triple champion.

To get to where I wanna be, I have to talk about where I’ve already been. Before I can become #Aria3Belts, I gotta reflect on the words of a man who couldn’t even pry one belt from my hands, but somehow seems to think he can keep me from winning another. Part of me wants to give you the benefit of the doubt, Mike, but my sympathy only extends so far. And because I know you, because I know the desperation that’s tinging the hard-edged nature you’ve always had, I’m sure you’re thinking something along the lines of, “Well, I never asked for your sympathy. I can find it in the dictionary between “shit” and syphilis.” You’re right, I never had to feel bad for you. I never had to sympathize with you, but I always made it known that I did. I always said that the burden and the pain of being away from the scene for so long and feeling like your future was riding on the redemption that came with being able to win a championship was something I hoped I never felt. I understood why you were putting so much pressure on yourself going into Hardcore Havoc back then, and I understand it now. Every day that you walk around without a championship, every day that you feel unfulfilled, every day that you stand here feeling like you haven’t truly latched onto redemption must be killer. I know there was disappointment attached to being on the wrong side of having your head kicked off, but what you don’t get to do is rewrite history, sweetheart. It’s really hard to feel embarrassed when I’m parading around with a belt that you were ready to bet your whole future on -- only for it to remain around my waist. I get that you’re in a tough spot right now, but let me refresh your memory. You beat my ass, just like you said you would. I weathered the storm, just like I said I would. And when it all came down to it, I kicked your eye socket to pieces, lodged your nose in your frontal lobe, and ensured that the Outlaw Queen wasn’t being deposed anytime soon. I’ve always acknowledged that you were tough. I know firsthand what you’re willing to do if you think that you can win a match, but I also know what it’s like to absorb your so-called best and make sure that it’s not enough.

Imagine fighting tooth and nail for second place. You do that a lot, don’t you?

Your background means that you take pride in beating people within an inch of their lives, and coming into this, that’s all you seem to be able to tout. You’ve been up and down this whole field of competitors at one point or another, and you’re happy to rattle off all the times you’ve given us the fight of our lives. But really, what good is any of that if we’re still standing here? You don’t clean house, Mike, you play whack-a-mole. Every person you batter pops back up eventually. You pound your fists into someone’s face and throw your knees into their kidneys enough to keep them down for a while, but they always come back. Look at Maelstrom. You beat your one-time OWA charge’s ass for funsies and I bet he’ll still be showing up on Meltdown. You couldn’t keep me down long enough to win my midcard belt...what makes you think you can outdo the four others here and keep me from becoming OWA World Champion again? This isn’t the octagon, sweetheart. That seems to be the only place you can get within a football field of anything that even looks like gold, and let’s face it, the [REDACTED] New Breed Championship just doesn’t seem to compare. Before, you got to see me when I had something to prove. I had to show the entire world that the Outlaw Championship was worth fighting for. I was fighting to reshape a championship’s lineage and image. That proof came when the canvas was painted with your blood. That proof came with the knowledge that you thought you had that shit in the bag, and I made you pay for your presumption.

You can’t see me when I’m at home.

This is where I thrive. This is where I made my name. Aria Jaxon in a main event match for a world title is something that just feels right. And when you’re watching again as disappointment washes over you and I’m cradling a championship in my hands, maybe it’ll dawn on you. You can’t rewrite history when it whacks you over the head again and again.

It goes the same way every time we face each other, Jeff. I’m beginning to wonder what else we could possibly have to say to one another. It’s always some variation of “You’re my friend and I respect you as a wrestler, but I’ll put you in the dirt to win this important match.” Considering that we mean it when we say it, some people might say it’s fucked up, but I know better. All you want is to win. Where I’m concerned, it’s never anything personal, and the same can be said for the inverse. The way that I feel about interacting with you in this match in some ways mirrors how I feel about Bishop, but...you’re much more firmly in my good graces, since you didn’t try to restructure past events to make me sound like some sort of goddamn tomato can.

I was rooting for you at Final Destination. You overcame the odds to win the Clash, and I really believed in my heart that when we all left Miami, it would be with memories of you finally reaching the summit. But here we are now, a few months later, and you’re still chasing that elusive world title reign. If things were different, I’d be crossing my fingers that the Asylum was finally where you accomplished your mission, but I can’t do that. Not when your success would come at the expense of mine. Years ago, I used to believe that I would never be hungrier than I was when I was reaching for my first world championship. Now I realize that it’s not really true. Oh, you’ll bust your ass tryna get to the top for the first time, but the way you fight to get back up there when you’ve tasted that glory before? I’ve already accepted the fact that I’m in for the fight of my life in the Asylum, but my path back to the OWA Championship runs right through it -- and right over you.

Imagine for a second that this wild ass scenario comes to pass -- Havoc emerges from the Asylum victorious, and he runs his face-painted ass around here with both the OWA World Championship and the Ascension to the Heavens Briefcase, seemingly holding all the cards at once.

Oh, who the fuck am I kidding? I already know he doesn’t win world titles in OWA.

Maybe that’s why he did everything in his power to try -- and fail -- to sway me to his side. Foolishly, he mistook me for the same kind of braindead zombie that’s making up his...well, what exactly is Ashes of the Wake? Because it sure as fuck ain’t a group of equals. The clowns you recruited to hang around you now, they were never the type you intended to have standing shoulder-to-shoulder, were they? Either behind you, so as not to take any eyes off of the terrifying Nightmare King, or in front of you to serve as crash test dummies. You took some underachievers and promised them the world, but hey, when you’re at rock bottom like a titleless Maverick or an irrelevant Jacob Knight, I’m sure joining Havoc’s evil boy scout troop sounds like a sweet fucking deal.

You prey on weakness, and while I don’t believe that I’m infallible, I think that you’ve run into me enough times to know there isn’t anything you can say to me that would’ve made me see things your way coming into this match. There was never anything you could say or do that would make me join Emo Wolvesden: The Reboot, and there was never a chance that I wouldn’t break my foot off in your ass the way I have twice before -- in two different companies, no less. Underneath all of the theatrics, I wonder if you feel any sort of pressure mounting. You have the golden ticket in your possession, but are you man enough to pull the trigger? Will you leave Boiling Point with all the cards, or will you eat another big-ticket loss and slink off into the shadows to be consoled by your lackeys? All this doom and gloom shit doesn’t mean anything unless you’ve got a little something sparkly to show for your exploits, and as of now, all you’re serving up are a briefcase and empty promises. Face it. While you overcame some hungry competition to win Ascension to the Heavens, maybe the truth is that you’ve climbed as high as you can. Maybe your eventual cash-in is doomed to fail because you can’t seem to put all the pieces together here in the Land of Omega. When it comes to the Asylum, I just hope you know you’re playing for a couple of cute action shots on the highlight reel and not to win. Leave that to me, just like you’re used to doing.

I’ll give credit where it’s due, Dampshaw. You aren’t carrying yourself at all like a man who had to insert himself into all of this because he wasn’t even on the shortlist of prospective Asylum participants. In a weird way, I almost respect the initiative. You saw your opportunity and you took it. You seem truly intent on believing that you belong here, and I was ready to believe you until the delusion crept in. You think you’re better suited for all of this because you’ve actually been in an insane asylum before? If having your psyche torn apart and being force fed antipsychotic meds was really a difference-maker in your career, well...you’d have a lot more than just a Spartans title reign to your name, right? You’re starting to sound like Bishop, and I don’t mean that in a good way.

NOBODY CARES WHERE YOU’VE BEEN. NOBODY GIVES A FUCK ABOUT HOW HARD YOU HAD IT, HOW TWISTED YOU ARE, OR THE BAGGAGE THAT YOU WON’T CHECK AT THE DOOR.

We’re all gonna be fucked up when we leave that Asylum. I’ve already come to grips with that. We all bleed and we all register pain. No matter how terrifying you think you are, you’re mortal just like the other five people that are gonna be locked in there with you. By your own admission, you needed the lesson that came with losing to Arata. I’m so happy to hear you say that. I’m glad you’re the type to make lemonade out of lemons, because I sincerely hope you’ll be able to take something constructive from this loss. I’m not out to teach any lessons, though. I just wanna add some more gold to my collection and have the distinction of knowing I’m the best OWA has to offer. You’re a smart cookie, though. You’ll find your silver lining in there somewhere, won’t you?

At the risk of stating the obvious, Moongoose -- you’re the one with the most to lose here. It really wasn’t all that long ago that you rose to the top in spectacular, gruesome fashion. You practically murdered Kenny in front of his wife, and...do we even know for sure if he’s still alive? Has anyone seen him yet to confirm?

The thing biting at the back of my brain is that you’re walking around with the OWA World Championship because you beat the man who beat me for it. After spending your entire OWA career as a meme up to that point, you shifted into this dark, chaotic place. That wouldn’t scare me even if we had more time to kill. You don’t have enough time between now and Boiling Point to tie up my husband, kidnap my niece, or beat up my parents -- and that’s the kinda shit you gotta resort to in order to stand even a snowball’s chance in hell of beating any good wrestler. You’re all about the psychological warfare, honey, but we haven’t seen that in the lead-up to the Asylum. Could you have realized it’s futile to even try it against so many people, or have you maybe accepted the grim reality that your moment in the sun is gonna prove to be one-and-done? Yeah, you knocked off the guy who ended my title reign, but he’s not here to circle back around and take what’s his. I am. When and if Kenny rises from the dead, we can pick up where we left off...but that begins when I survive the Asylum with a second OWA World Championship reign to my name. I hope you enjoyed your time in the spotlight while it lasted.

I can’t promise myself that this will be fun, easy, or quick, but the route to anything worth fighting for never is. Bell to fucking bell, I’m ready to fight. I’m pulling off the heist of the century in Mexico City. From a bloody spectacle that’s too violent for TV, from the ashes of an epic clash of six people who don’t know when to quit, I’ll be the one who rises to the top. I might be carried out of that stadium by EMTs. I might not be able to stand when it’s all over, but I will be able to call myself the winner. I will go back home to LA weighted down by gold. Y’all have my word.

A triple champion, crowned in blood. That’s how all of this ends.

Diantha Rosso, Matsuda, Arata Asakura and Darkane have spoken. It’s such good shit!

Re: OWA Promos July 14th 2020, 11:28 pm by **Emmanuelle**

[A somewhat emotional April Song sits down at a confessional. Her breathing is somewhat erratic, composing herself as she sorts through what she wants to say in her mind. Her lips move momentarily but no sound comes out, her eyes darting around the room and toward the ceiling as if in deep thought before taking a heavy breath, composing herself. She’s only in a pair of jeans and a tank top, no fancy clothes or jewelry and minimal makeup. Now, her eyes are fixed on the camera.]

Um...I feel a little selfish. For the past few months I’ve been trying my best to support people in one way or another. Hana Nakajima, Diantha Rosso, even people like Nobi, Reno Dumont, Alyssa Grace that I’ve fought before in some capacity. We all have common goals and various degrees of respect and love for each other. Alyssa, as much as I like her personally is more of a professional colleague than close friend. Hana and Diantha are like sisters to me and Diantha knows that I will walk through the fires of hell in Mexico City if it helps her get back what was taken from her. I saw the look in her eyes once we met in the hotel after Hardcore Havoc. I saw the pain and nearly cried myself because in a way I’ve been there.

But it was worse for me, wasn’t it, Stephanie?

It’s a negative trait of mine, but I definitely tend to hold onto grudges for a long, long time. But this grudge, this particular one, I can’t let fester any longer. This wound to my pride cuts so deeply that anytime I see one of these “cash-ins” that have become all the craze in professional wrestling, it feels like someone is twisting a knife in my back...or perhaps considering who I’m talking about today it’s more apropos to say it feels like someone was slamming a thirty something pound trophy against my skull. She knows full well of what I’m talking about, so let’s go ahead and cut the bullshit:

I detest Stephanie Matsuda.

There, I’ve gotten it out of the way. I know it comes as a shock to some of you that someone as popular and “cool” as Matsuda could inspire unending hatred and loathing from one of her contemporaries but here we are. I don’t like her and she doesn’t like me. What she won’t tell you though is that these are circumstances that she has worked extremely hard to create and foster.

It’s been, what, two years now? Maybe more? Most of you know the story but for those of you that don’t, Stephanie Matsuda used her Iconic Cup trophy that she won to steal the World Championship from me. I was on the verge of the most important moment of my career in the Rose Bowl and she clunked me upside the head and knocked me unconscious. Over time, the fact that she used the trophy to win a championship didn’t bother me as much. I probably would have happily done the same to her had the roles been reversed. If it was done under any other circumstances I would have applauded her cunning, especially after I got my properly mandated rematch set in stone.

Two things bothered me: For starters she attacked me from behind. Mid-match. She didn’t even have the courage to wait until the match was over and I was exhausted and fair game, able to pay full attention to her attack, like Eris did to my friend. At least Eris granted my best friend the small courtesy of holding a title that she KILLED herself trying to win. You couldn’t even do that, Stephanie. You want the spotlight on you and your buddies at all times, don’t you? Little April Song didn’t deserve to touch that title because she hurt your friend with some assistance from people you and your clique long ostracized for various reasons, some of them good and some of them just petty jealousy. You wanted to make sure you rubbed my nose in it, didn’t you? You wanted to avenge your friend and hold me down all at once.

The second part that bothers me: You wouldn’t face me after the fact. Why? You had wrestled me, up to that point, twice. You didn’t lose either time. You knew what that night in Pasadena meant to me and my career, but you always ducked away from me when I called you out. You always flaunted your titles and your slutty wife and your career away from the ring. Even when I signed with one of the wrestling companies you finance and all, you wouldn’t face me. On your home turf. When you came here to OWA, I was waiting. But instead of facing me, you go play patty-cake with Aria Jaxon and Natalie Cage instead. It’s a match that the world wanted to see, a match that I wanted to make happen...but is it just me or you seemed to get cold feet all the time, hmm?

You duck me for literally years. You make me stew in those memories, every time you waved your press clippings in my face on Twitter, Everytime you call yourself a great wrestler. I CANT EVEN HAVE A FUCKING NICKNAME IN PEACE AS YOU GO AROUND CALLING YOURSELF THE “BEST BOUT MACHINE”! ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS? You know exactly what you are doing. You knew exactly what you were doing on Atlantis when I wrestled your buddy Aria. Aria is a great wrestler, so good in fact I think she is the best wrestler in the World. But she was not better than me that night. She knows it...and you know it too. That’s why you spent the entire match trying to antagonize me, knowing that I would gladly strangle you any opportunity given.

I gave in to it. Behind this cold exterior there is a human, you know? I wanted to replicate exactly what you did to me with your bestest pal Aria taking my role in the proceedings. I wanted you to look on in despair while I knocked her out with the Blasian Sunrise. I wanted to piss you off and it appears I succeeded. But what did you do? You made yourself just enough a nuisance to ruin my day. I took the bait and because of that Aria did just enough to keep her Outlaw Championship from me. I don’t want to sound like Aria isn’t a worthy champion because she is, but I think everyone in the universe knows how that match would have turned out if you weren’t there to try to get in my head. Then again, after our last meeting in the ring, I understand why you would try to get me off my game.

You remember the Castle don’t you?

We spent thirty minutes beating the hell out of each other. I spent half the match tying your overly muscular body into fucking knots...and you spent the other half hitting me with everything you had and guess what? I wouldn’t stay down for you. For the first time, you really faced an April that was equipped to compete with you, that could beat you, that was focused. I think that scared you. I think that angered you. We know how the match ended and believe me I was for sure the most upset with it. I was officially given a “victory” against you, but that’s the problem: it was given.

It wasn’t earned. You didn’t tap out, you didn’t pass out...but in my estimation you were pretty close to doing either considering I had you in one of my favorite submissions. There was nowhere to go, you were gassed, and there was no one around to save you. No Azumi to offer encouragement, no Aria to save your ass, no Monica to hold your hand as you were drifting off to sleep. For nearly half an hour I withstood the onslaught of the alleged “Best Bout Machine”, beating you at your own game. You were outmatched, you were defeated, you were BROKEN.

And you fucking know it.

You know how I operate. You know that this had to happen at some point. Maybe the hatred isn’t as bad as it used to be though. You asked me to join your World’s Finest and I did. We’ve been able to work together, usually anyway, towards common goals. We’re not friends, we will probably never exchange Christmas gifts, but there are times when I can stand the sight of you without getting the urge to kill. We did what we had to do in Russia, didn’t we? We’ve had some fumbles with the tag matches here and there but when it mattered we stood our ground, even if we didn’t care much for the sight of the person in the foxhole with us. But then there are times when you do shit like you pulled in Philly. Like what you did at Hardcore Havoc. It wasn’t your business but you meddled anyway...and thanks to you I suffered the most HUMILIATING loss of my career to a girl I had completely at my mercy.

You know what I am. What I was doing to Alyssa at Hardcore Havoc? You’ve done far worse. And you know that I am capable of even more than your worst. Alyssa is someone that I like and respect. What do you think I will do to you if given the chance? This match supposedly has rules, but do you think I will give a flying fuck about rules and regulations once I see you standing across the ring from me? I will not.

I’ve spent a lot of time spilling my grievances with you, but I want to make sure that one thing is understood even more than my intense, undying hatred for you:

I don’t want to hate you. I never really wanted to, but just the way you are, you never gave me a fucking choice.

I’m tired of this. I’m tired of us bickering, I’m tired of our miscommunication. I’m tired of holding onto this weight, this grudge. I can’t go forward with this in my heart and on my mind and in some respects neither can you. I don’t have a lot of time left in my career. I’m at the peak of my powers and should be spending time collecting titles, as you are, not holding onto old grudges like this. For both of us to go forward, we both have to go backward and finally end this. If we’re going to be allies, there can be no secrets, no fostering jealousy, no bullshit snipping behind each other’s backs. We need to have this shit out in the open, so our friends and allies can see it, so we can see each other...and then we fucking deal with it like women. We’ve tried with words, we’ve tried with therapy, we’ve tried making mutual friends.

None of it is enough.

We will have to work out our differences the only way we know how: in the ring. We don’t like each other and we’re probably never going to be friends. I’m okay with that and I’m sure you’re just peachy with it yourself. But we both know that we can’t leave this unresolved. I just want this one match, this one match in Mexico City, to settle this. I’ve never truly beaten you. I’ve gotten wins over just about everyone else that I’ve come across. Consuela. Tarah. Aria. Azumi. Claudia. There are some others who I haven’t beaten just yet, but out of all of them I need to beat you the most.

Alyssa doesn’t wave her titles in my face. She’s arrogant, and rightly so, but she still has enough respect to acknowledge the fact that she’s beaten me but respect how close she came to the edge of defeat.

Eris doesn’t pretend to be this wonderful person. She’s an outright cunt, upfront about her intentions and what she’s about if nothing else. You, you’re a sneaky one. You donate to charities and run wrestling schools and bankroll an orphanage or whatever other Howdy Doody Bullshit you do to hide what a horrible, egocentric bitch you are. You scheme behind people’s backs, you talk shit to people who have done nothing but show you respect. This isn’t about any title, this is about self-respect. You spent so much time trying to call me fake. You remember that time you made fun of my military service? You remember that time you referred to me as a “House Asian”? You remember every chance you get you have done nothing but twist the knife in my soul with hateful words, mumbled words backstage to people higher up the totem pole? You don’t? Because I do. I remember every word, every tweet, every snide remark, everything.

I’m going to expose you, Stephanie. I’m going to reveal just how depraved, sick and twisted you really are. I’m going to show you what I’ve seen ever since I met you: a shameless, heartless thug. Every day, every day for two years, two long, agonizing years, I’ve had to walk around listening to people mock me for never having a World Championship. I’ve been turned away from endorsements and television deals because “Stephanie Matsuda is more marketable. She fits more with what we want.” I’ve had to sit here and watch you live the life that I should have lived, have the legacy that should be my own. I HAVE TO WATCH PEOPLE ADORN YOU WITH PRAISE FOR YOUR ABILITY, PROP YOU UP LIKE SOME SORT OF FUCKING WRESTLING GOD...when I know from very recent experience that is not the case. You are flying high. You have titles, endorsements, a loving family life...but you’re civilized. You’re not the War Queen anymore. Everyone knows it, everyone sees it except you.

Maybe in 2018...maybe then you were the best wrestler in the world. Maybe you really were better than me, no matter how much I trained and struggled and starved. But we’re in 2020 now and we both know that you’re nowhere near the killer that you were then. And you KNOW that I am even more vicious, more technically sound, more motivated and more polished a wrestler than I was back then. This isn’t some fresh-faced loner that you beat in ten minutes all the way back in 2017. This isn’t the woman you stole a title and a legacy from in 2018. This is a fierce, dangerous April Song, the won that was more than willing to batter a FRIEND to claim something that belonged to her.

You FUCKING STOLE the EAW Women’s Championship from me.

You Involved yourself in something that had nothing to do with you and cost me the chance to regain my OWA Goddesses Championship, a title I deeply treasured.

Then you showed up to blatantly antagonize me, my own anger letting the OWA Outlaw Championship and another victory over the woman I consider the best in the world slip through my fingers.

I owe you three beatings. Despite the fact that this is one match scheduled for one fall, I will get all three of them.

I’m going to pick your body apart. You know that since we’ve been tagging together and pretending to be sociable, I’ve been paying real close attention to you. Heh, I probably know your body better than the models you sleep with on the road. I know every spot that aches, every joint that’s suspect, every soft spot. And I’m going to torture you. All night if I have to.

I’m going to expose you. I’m going to break your mind at some point. I know that you will probably enter this match attempting to think rationally, attempting to treat me like some other opponent. That’s going to be the biggest mistake of your career. I’m going to force the ugliness out of your mind and heart to come on display in front of over 100000 strong in the Estadio Azteca. They’re going to see what I already see: a filthy, disgusting, gutless individual who holds titles but holds nothing in her fucking soul. That’s the second beating.

The third beating? I’m just going to beat you, straight up. I don’t need shortcuts, I don’t need a gang to powerbomb you off of anything and I damn sure don’t need the company’s blessing. I’m going to get even with you the best way I know how for all you’ve taken from me: by making you quit, by knocking you out. I just want to beat you. I want you to have to go home and look Monica in the eye and admit to her that you were beaten by a better woman. I want you to go to all your little trainees and show the highlight tapes of our match and point out everything I did to you, show them and say “THIS IS HOW A PROFESSIONAL WRESTLER WRESTLES!”

But the thing I want most, the thing I want the most of all because I know it will hurt you the absolute most is this:

I want you to stand up, after the match is over, my music is playing and the crowd is applauding our efforts. I want you to limp up to your feet, look me in the eye….and say “Damn it, I respect you, April Song!” and shake my hand.

That’s all I’ve ever asked for from you, that’s all I’ve ever wanted. Fuck friendship. Fuck a mutual working relationship. You’ve disrespected me at every turn, every federation we’ve been in, EVERY FUCKING CHANCE THAT YOU GET! You taunt me, you mock me, you’ve beaten me. In Mexico City this stops. You WILL RESPECT ME, CLOUD.

Even if I have to beat the word out of your mouth, letter by letter.

Arata Asakura has spoken. It’s such good shit!

Re: OWA Promos July 14th 2020, 11:26 pm by **Eon Blue**

Atlantis: Meltdown

Caos y Campeonatos

Eon: GRiME, here we are again. For thirty minutes this past Olympus Chaos Elite beat you pillar to post. Now let's be clear. You got a lucky..VERY LUCKY fall and that is why heading into the final stretch we were beating you 2-1 in that ironman match.

The scene opens up with light shining in through a grungy skylight into an old abandoned warehouse. Old Lucha posters adorn the walls and a run down ring is visible behind where Eon sits straddling an old wooden chair.

Eon: So what happens when you get so backed into a corner with no hope? Your third man gets involved. You know, the guy no one even knows still? Yea he jumps in and swings that steel chair across my and Noah’s head. I will admit, it dropped us cold, But it put us up 3-1. See here is where it gets interesting. Because I know what you will say. ‘It was no different than you in the triple threat Eon’ No different? Lest I remind you, I did not break any rules when I had Noah show up in the triple threat. There are no disqualifications in that match. I PLAYED BY THE RULES...Yet you, you sullied what was an amazing match. Not only showing the world WE, as we have said, were the better team. But that you HAVE to have help in order to even beat us. This is a point I will not forget.

Eon stands and begins walking about the ruined building.

Eon: And now it has come to this, Next Atlantis, Meltdown, Chaos Elite, Vs. GRiME, Vs the Current champs the Nice Guys. Lucha Rules match. And in Mexico City no less. Lets not take away from what this will be gentlemen. This will be a tag match for the ages. And we have Nobi and Teddy Mac to thank that it is even happening. THE IDIOTS, not only do they think they are doing people a favor allowing both Chaos Elite and GRiME in this match. They think they have a chance at walking out still wearing gold. And perhaps they would , in a standard match. But you played right into Mine and Noah’s hands. You put a stipulation on the match. And you are allowing Chaos to sink into the fold.

Eon walks over to the posters on the wall and tears one down. Behind it is another image, this one of Nobi. It's a collage and in each one he looks sad and depressed.

Eon: And we all know what happens when there is chaos with Nobi. And not just chaos, let us know that three times he has gone up against supreme talent. Three times he has yearned to reach the pinnacle of our sport and every time what happens? What happens when he is met with a force more than he?

Eon points to each image of Nobi

Eon: He is left beaten and broken, wondering where he went wrong. What more could he have done? Why did the pressure get to him? And that answer is simple. He just didn’t have the balls to get it done. And come Atlantis, when he once again has to go toe to toe with a rising legend in OWA When he meets the Apex talent of Noah Quinn and Eon Blue. When the CHAOS becomes too much and the pressure to be his best weighs him down. HE WILL FAIL...just like he has EVERY time he is given a chance. This time, it will cost him, and sadly it will also cost his partner Teddy Mac. Yes you may be the Nice Guys, but you will leave Mexico City sad, broken men.

Eon moves down the wall, his fingers gripping at the old posters and tearing them away to reveal an image of Teddy Mac, Lying beaten on the mat from the triple threat match.

Eon: And Mac, I have not forgotten you. You already know what We can do. HOW DANGEROUS We are. It was a sight was it not. To see the Mighty Teddy Mac fallen at mine and Noah’s Feet? It is a feeling you will need to remember and get used too. I am the harbinger of your ruin Teddy Mac. I am the ghost of your failures coming back to haunt you. When you go back home, without the gold, without respect, broken, beaten. When you walk in that front door to your wife in tears and a daughter that won't look you in the eyes...I want you to remember Chaos Elite. I want you to remember the pain, the suffering. And you will look back and see why we won. It was because we WERE BETTER. Better than you could ever hope to be. But this is something you are used to, isn’t it Mac? You are used to disappointing your wife and children, Your fans, your friends and soon to be your partner as well. Your ruin will go down in history as part of Mine and Noah's ascension.

Eon walks further down the dusty room and once more tears down the grungy old posters to reveal GRiME. The trio with their under chin finger wag is on full display.

Eon: And speaking of fallen heroes...TJ Burns, Tyler Bridges and Travis Brookes. Oh yes I know who you are Travis. I make it a point of knowing who to bring to ruin after they try and crush in my SKULL with a chair. You made a grave mistake and I promise you, your time is coming. Tick Tock…

Eon suddenly tears Travis’ likeness from the wall.

Eon: As for you other two. Your pathetic showing on Olympus and your failure to do more than run your mouths and run yourselves into the ground is resulting in a rather boring feud. We continually show you that we are the better athletes. You had no answer for us in the Iron Man Match and you have yet to capitalize on the hype that their fallen champion Kenny Drake once believed in. Much like Nobi you have failed in every attempt you have made to not only beat a true team, but to take home the gold you so desperately crave. And I am sure you will be coming at us with fire in your mouth. Telling us how hard you're going to work, how the fans love you and the world appreciates you. But when all is said and done, when you are lying face down, bloody and defeated, your fans will cry and weep your demise.

Eon rounds the corner of the ring to the last roll of posters and takes his time tearing down each one slowly revealing a large mural of Eon and Noah is on the wall.

Eon: Even the idiots of this town know what the future is. Nice Guys, GRiME, we are your impending doom. We are coming for those straps, that gold and when we walk out your NEW OWA Tag Team champs you will see that all our talk has always been the truth. I am saying this now, I Guarantee new Champions on Atlantis Meltdown. And it matters not which of you shlubs we end up pinning on the mat. You will all FALL before Chaos Elite.

Eon Turns, posing under the Mural of him and Noah.

Eon: I pity the fans, the families of these two teams. Their ruin will be the groundwork of Our rise..Mac, Nobi, Burns, Bridges and yes even Brookes…I AM YOUR APOCALYPSE...and Your Apocalypse is HERE!

Eon smirks as the camera fades to black.

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

The Camera opens up to reveal Alfonso Reyes, a small outdoor cafe in Mexico City. Eon is seated with a steaming cup of espresso in front of him. He is watching the busy street and waiting, He does not wait long as he sees Noah Quinn walking up to him. He stands to welcome his tag partner.

Eon: Hope this wasn’t too early for you Noah, it's going to be very busy these next few days.

Noah: I can believe it. From the travel, to our title match. It doesn't end.

Eon motions for Noah to Join him at the table.

Eon: Travel is always a pain, but it brings us here, to Mexico City. This place will be history making for us. I am already feeling the excitement of what’s to come! Though do you feel that heaviness? That dread hanging off in the distance. I wonder if Grime and Nice Guys have already landed

Noah: That's the spirit, I'm not used to this positivity from you. You're sounding like the Nice Guys a little bit. I'm sure they have. I know that you'd prefer us to be the dread, however.

Eon: There is a distinct difference in a good mood and a naive moron. Indeed we are, we are that shadow lingering in their distance Noah. This…

Eon motions between them

Eon: This was supposed to be a fluke. No one gave Chaos Elite the time of day, and then we showed up on Olympus and made them pay attention didn’t we? Laying out Teddy Mac and...uhhh... god, I can never remember which grimey shithead we're in the ring with.

Noah: They thought this would be temporary. A spur of the moment, with one person betraying the other, but look at us! We have a title shot, so early in our existence. We'll be champions, so early in our partnership. If we're this good now, imagine what we'll do in the future!

Eon: And they think it is wrong that we want to use this for our own goals. Mac runs his mouth like he knows who we are and what we are about. That fool doesn't know success and he has no clue what mine or your plans are. Right now all Teddy needs to know is we are bringing the war to his doorstep. These tag team titles will put to rest any doubt that anyone has about us. When we have those fools in ruin at our feet, our hands raised high and gold around our waist, what more can they say to deny us?

Noah: I'm sure they can find something. There's always doubters. People who refuse to accept facts and use bullshit excuses to justify their shitty arguments. After Meltdown I'm sure more will come out of nowhere, whether we win, or lose. But who cares? They're just people who have no idea what they're talking about. Spewing their opinions out of their assholes as always. We should be focusing on ourselves.

Eon: You’re right, this isn't about them. It never has been. I know you do not fully understand my way of thinking. Why I threaten apocalypse and ruin. But I enjoy being the catalyst of change. Together we have done more to advance ourselves than we had spinning our wheels against each other. Our time is here, it is now. And I am willing to take anyone down to achieve our goals.

Noah: And that's coming soon. The Nice Guys and GRiME will be the first pillars to fall. I have to admit, I wasn't your biggest fan, but I saw what we could do for each other, what could be accomplished if we combine our forces. The future's looking bright, Eon.

Eon smirks at Noah’s words at first but then nods his head in agreement.

Eon: You will come around to my ideas. I am not some crazy prophet. In fact, I want to show you something while we are here in Mexico. We have some time, it would be a trip outside the city for a couple hours. I want to show you what happens to those who believe they are all there is in the world. Who think, like the Nice Guys, that they are the best there is. And How quickly not knowing what is around you can lead to devastation.

Noah: Still not sold on the apocalypse, but I'll enter with an open mind. It's the least I can do. Some could say that we're just like that, caught up in our own egos, but I consider myself self aware. I'm anything but perfect, but we're better then fucking GRiME and the Nice Guys. For what it's worth, to be a cult leader, you need to have followers. If I ever accept your ideas, I'll pledge loyalty to the movement. But I doubt I will anytime soon.

Eon: Oh I know my ego is large. But I also take pride in seeing what is around me. Knowing my limits that as of now, have not been reached. We are better, we are the future of OWA and this tag division. And Noah, I am not looking for a follower. The ruin I speak of, the apocalypse, it is the destruction of my opponents desire to win, destruction of their own motivation. I seek to stamp out those I face. Hell I tried it with you, but we came to an agreement. As a team, as Chaos Elite, we are loyal to each other. Not followers. We will lead this tag division.

Noah: At least we can agree on something. I can't say I have a deep hatred for the Nice Guys, but GRiME's destruction by our hands is near. We will drag this division by the hair to glory. Once a dry, boring group of teams, will turn into a collective of teams, all vying for those tag championships. And it's good that you see me as an equal. I know that we've had our problems, but it's good that we're on the same page, as it's a common opinion that we're just a pairing of individuals. We fit together, contrary to some beliefs. Tag teams don't have to be carbon copies of each other to be effective, and we'll show OWA that this Friday.

Eon downs his espresso listening to Noah’s words. A dark blue SUV pulls up to the curb near where they are sitting and Eon stands from his chair and motions to the vehicle.

Eon: Meltdown will be an awakening for our doubters. This is not just a haphazard team before them. As the saying goes, Opposites Attract. Common enemies and common goals can do more for a pairing then a good barbeque or a good toke. Common, let's take that trip. I promise you won’t be disappointed in what I have to show you. And I promise, we will not leave Meltdown disappointed either. Let's go make history, lets go become Champions.

Noah: Lead the way.

The screen fades to black as the camera zooms in on the two men entering the vehicle.

Re: OWA Promos July 14th 2020, 11:01 pm by **DarkCircle**

Tales of the Dragon: Test of the Wills

{Camera Start: We find ourselves looking over vast skyline of Fronton Mexico in Mexico City, Mexico-the host city for Atlantis this week before the camera pulls back and we find ourselves in a semi-dark hotel room with the familiar figure of Ryo himself sitting in a chair facing the camera, his trademark smile is nowhere to be seen and in its place is the serious look that one normally only sees in his matches}

“History."

{Ryo holds up in right hand, open palm up as he casually looks at it}

"In the palm of my hand."

"A true student of the game. This wild, unpredictable game that we call professional wrestling understands that history repeats itself. One singular person enters a rumble for a future shot at a title and they are considered to be the underdog or the dark horse or the least likely if that to even survive five seconds in the rumble because they are so green...or they have a horrible win loss record...or something to that effect and yet, not only does this one singular person go on to win not only the rumble and that coveted shot....but later on they go onto win the very prize that all have decreed should not be their's."

"Look to any past or present champion here in the Omega Wrestling Alliance and you will find the proof to which I speak of. And being a true student of the game that I am, you can be rest assured that on Atlantis, you are looking at the man who is going to become the next OWA Openweight champion."

"Why, a lot of you might be asking yourselves? By what right does Ryo Sakazaki believe that he can win this rumble when there are so many other talented wrestlers with much more experience under their belts than him?"

"Because I have the willpower to make my desires manifest. While so many of you are looking to this match as an excuse to settle supposed scores or to try and deal as much damage to everyone else around you...me, I'm out to be that sole survivor and go on to become the next Openweight champion."

{He then lowers his hand and gives the camera a faint hint of a smile before it returns to its previous serious mein}

"Stephanie believes in me..."

{He brings up his right hand gain, this time looking at it with a much more fierce expression than before as he closes the open hand into a very tight fist as he looks towards the camera}

"*I* believe in *ME*."

"Arata two weeks ago mocked me for this belief and while he won by sheer luck, it was my sheer willpower that lead me through kicking out of each and every one of his attempts to put me down and quickly because to a person like him, it's not about *WRESTLING*, it's about *MONEY* and that makes him not actually a true student of the game."

"Last week, Olive Harper mocked me as well and look where his arrogant attitude got him? He thought he was clever enough and assumed that by taking out my ability to hit the Genki Cannon that would allow him to win the match...but any true student of the game will also tell you not to base everything that you can do around ONE move, that was the very first thing that Stephanie drilled into us again and again back in the War Room which was always have an arsenal ready for whenever you go to war.”

{Once again Ryo lowers his hand and settles back into his chair, becoming comfortable}

“But the one thing that I find particularly interesting is how many of you find me to be a non-entity in this match. Because while all of you say that you’re going to do this to that person or how badly you’re going to thrash that person….not one of you has lobbed anything in my direction which again shows not only your arrogance but your hubris as well.”

“Hubris such as Theodor Pavel’s mouthpiece claiming that nobody trains like his client. I’m sorry to tell you, mister advocate, that the reason why I haven’t said anything till now is because I’ve been training in a way that it makes the old saying of “working like a madman” seem inadequate by leaps and bounds, because I have been training like a full insane asylum to prepare for this one match and this one chance.”

“Next up with arrogance is you, Revy. Tell me now, do you honestly think that you’ll be able to walk into this match and come out the winner just because you throw down flash bangs and the like or because you have the Shin-Sekai in your back pocket...or one of the other reasons why you should win this match other than any form of actual talent?”

“I mean yes, I do believe that at last report you were the Lethal Angels of Wrestling Specialist champion, but I’m not sure how current that is at the moment or if that even applies here because this is a straight up toss the other person over the top rope kind of match.”

“You know, something that involves actual wrestling rather than hitting people across the face with a shovel for instance. I have very little to fear or worry from you as a threat to my goal in that aspect, little Revy, because you are one of the ones that I mentioned before in that you’ll be too focused on trying to either settle scores or do more damage to everyone around you than to try and win the title, and nothing you can say or do will change me on that matter.”

“No. There is only one person in this entire match who has a drive almost as strong as mine to win this and take their shot at Baba Yaga.”

{Ryo leans forward and fixes the camera with a slight smile}

“And that would be you, Liara Lawson.”

“You honestly don’t think anyone is paying attention to you and more to Gwen Harper? Please do not sell yourself so short because if there is possibly one person who could take *ME* out of the running for this match, it has to be you and you only and that is because you’ve got that same desire driving you and that is something that I can respect.”

“But you also have a fatal flaw that could undo any chance of winning the match for you and that’s your need to be noticed and that “need” is driving you to become focused on making people notice you as you try to win this rumble and in the end that will do more than just backfire on you because while you finally obtain that moment and you make everyone notice how great you are in that ring as you stand atop that peak of victory….all it will take is a singular tiny slip on the pebble of wasted time that will allow gravity to catch up to you and send you tumbling to the bottom of the mountain in shame in defeat.”

“But Liara, I want you to fully understand that I am perhaps the only one that’s not going to be taking you lightly and please understand that while I hold actual respect for you as a wrestler and for what you can do in the ring, if you come between me and my desire in this match then I will take you down and out with the slightest hesitation. So please do keep that in mind.”

“So you see, not only do I hold the sole focus of being the only person in this entire match dedicated solely to proving everyone that I am a future champion in this company by the sheer merit of the strength in my own two hands and the sweat of my brow...but I also walk into this match comfortable in the fact that either way...win or lose...I *WIN* in the end.”

{The slight smile on Ryo’s face blossoms into the signature confident smile that he always has on his face as he leans back in his chair once more and crosses his leg while chuckling good naturedly just a little bit}

“Now some of you, if not all, have probably heard that just now and going what could I possibly be smoking to have that kind of view of things but when you look at how I’m viewing this entire situation then you’d understand better because you see it’s like this.”

{He holds up his open left hand}

“I win the rumble and the chance to fight Baba Yaga for the Openweight championship. Beat him and become the kind of champion that the division needs….or…”

{He then holds up his open right hand}

“I lose the rumble and I simply continue my fight to become the next contender to Arata Asakura’s Spartan championship. Beat HIM and become the kind of champion that division needs.”

“Either way, I win if I win or lose the rumble this week on Atlantis here in Mexico because I have my goals. The same ones that I mentioned to Cori a few weeks ago during my interview with her, because that is the will to power. The strength of one’s willpower made manifest and my willpower is strong enough to tear down Yellowstone if the need arises.”

“This is what Stephanie Matsuda saw in me when I came to the War Room to train under her, this is what Scott Oasis saw in me when I signed with the Omega Wrestling Alliance, that is what Jacob Knight saw in my eyes in that instant before I took his head off in my debut, and *THAT* is what Arata saw time and time and time AGAIN when everything that he thought was his best in his entire arsenal could not keep me down.”

{Ryo lowers his hands and rests them on the arms of his chair for an instant before rising his left hand up to indicate his confident smile}

“Now when I smile this smile in the ring, this isn’t a sign of arrogance or anything like that, no. This is me enjoying myself because one should always enjoy their work and I truly enjoy mine….and at Atlantis, ladies and gentlemen, you will truly see me truly enjoy myself as I walk in the underdog and walk out your future Omega Wrestling Alliance Openweight champion.”

“To all of my opponents in the Atlantis rumble, de Wille zur Macht...Will to Power.”

“Remember that and then witness it this week.

{Ryo then goes silent as the screen fades to black}

Re: OWA Promos July 14th 2020, 11:00 pm by **Jonetta Stone**

The world needs people who fill in the gaps for humanity. Gaps in knowledge. Gaps in leadership. Men and woman who make the unknown known, that make what was once disputed undisputed. I am one of those people. That makes me the most vital person on the entire Odyssey roster, lest we devolve into utter madness.

For mankind’s imagination is dangerous.

Worse yet, humanities gullibility and desperation for answers can invite the lowliest of swindlers into the public square and be taken seriously by the masses.

What causes natural disasters? How do societies make up the healthiest, safest and happiest populace? Who is the best fighter of them all? A good way to crystallize what I am talking about is the concept of “The God of the Gaps.” But this isn’t about the lord. This is merely a reminder that people used to believe hurricanes happened because of sinners. Every little ghost town would think their local bar brawl legend was the strongest man in the world! With the advent of the information age, people were able to more closely understand facts and also see world renown fighters come together in battles to show the world what true warriors look like. So many gaps are now closed, and the ones left are much more narrow than ever before, because great minds and great bodies have done the world a favour. Odyssey needs the same, for I have never witnessed a more ignorant and lost people, and it’s only gotten worse since Hardcore Havoc.

It almost makes me want to praise Dulce. For at least when she was on top, she filled in the gap well enough that I wasn’t comfortable coming out here saying what I’m about to, because I knew no one would take it seriously and I’d be laughed out of the room by her army fanatics. Because now there’s an argument for what I have to say that cannot be denied.

I am comfortable to say that Jonetta Stone vs La Llorona is the true main event bout representing Odyssey at Boiling Point.

I am comfortable saying that the winner of the Athena’s Cup will be the most feared woman in all of OWA.

I am comfortable saying, this will decide the standard-bearer for our brand.

If there was only one main criticism I have of Eris it would be that she continuously creates “voids” all across Odyssey. Her being an empty champion was bad enough, but she did it at the time Odyssey is being jam-packed with new talent and she herself threw controversy in the ending of the Promethean Chamber that is causing poor sights to this day!

Dulce successfully lied her way to filling in the gap. Eris barely even tries to create the illusion she can fill the gap. And La Llorona, she tries, but utterly fails to fill it.

It has come to my attention that while Diantha Rosso’s trauma has put a damper on her celebratory mood and while I was refusing to be satisfied bragging about what I did in a loss, La Llorona has tried to take advantage of that room to run around telling everyone that is willing to listen to her that she had the best performance in the Promethean Chamber. Nobody believes that. Even as Eris sullied Diantha’s moment and I look passed the event, La Llorona still can’t preach a sermon of her glorious feats without any child with a brain asking questions. Who won the match? Diantha. Who eliminated the World Champion at the time? Jonetta Stone. Who had the most eliminations in the match? Jonetta Stone. The question of who had the best performance in the chamber is clearly only answerable by the names Diantha or Jonetta Stone. It would be like trying to convince sports fans that the MVP of the finals of their select sport was neither someone on the winning side nor the person with the best stats. I know, such things are opinions, not facts like Llorona claimed, but even in the realm of opinion people don’t accept the idea that the best player is the bench warmer. Even if you for one moment blocked, sacked, or injured the top player who won the championship or had the best stats, you wouldn’t be the best just for taking out that person while you lost. Eliminating me from the chamber when I had the most eliminations and took out Dulce, does not magically make Llorona the best performer in it. I was the one devastating every woman in the match and sending woman after woman flying with Cross Checks! I don’t know about Diantha, but just because I have bigger fish to fry, doesn’t mean I’m going to let Llorona attempt to become famous by using what are our leftovers by right!

I know women like Llorona. I’ve dealt with her kind all my life. I don’t just mean the nannies who’d wish to have as big of a house as my parents as they cleaned my great grandparent’s war medals, that goes without saying based on where she comes from. What I’m talking about even includes the average lass you’d find in both America and my home in the great white north, You know, the endlessly hungry and ambitious, even if they’ll never be the number one person in the room when I’m in it. The type of horrid clown who’d think she can argue to be team captain of the hockey team when I get back, just because I missed a few practices while I was on a hunting trip out of the country. What makes people think they can fill the gaps I only temporarily leave open? Always, I have to outperform and outclass these people. Sometimes, I even have to get a bit rough. A little shove on the ice there, a little stick to knee here, and eventually most get the message that it might be a little dangerous to mess with me. It is what is, knuckledraggers like these girls and Llorona don’t understand anything if it’s not told to them through violence. You have to crack a few bones to get through their thick skulls, especially effective if what you’re smashing are their heads for added clarity. The world is a lot better when people like me crack some skulls is all I’m saying.

I won’t completely condemn you Llorona, trying to fill the shoes of the best performer in the company is a lot better than most of the lackadaisical ladies in the back, but I will make it very clear that your services are not required. Hoodlum. There is already someone who is capable of directing Odyssey in the right direction, and she’s been waiting in wings with too many bird brains for too long to be denied from a harpy from nowhere, and destined for much of the same. You made up quite the nice little tale from mud to where you are now, but don’t you think you’ve gotten a little ahead of yourself? You aren’t out of the gutter just yet, not until you’ve actually worn gold in the Omega Wrestling Alliance! Say what you will about tag team wrestling, you can knock it, you can ignore it, but none of it will change the fact that I was on top of a whole division here and I’m accustomed to these high-pressure matches. I know what it takes to win when all the chips are down and all of the world’s expectations lay on my shoulders. Unlike you, I’m battle-tested and a proven winner, you’re more of a jaw jacking street peddler who loves to hear herself talk. You’re sacrificing a whole lot of substance for all the dramatics that is suddenly going on with you.

I really don’t get it, you Llorona? I almost think you’re being emotional, that’s not the Llorona I know. Does going back “home” really have this much of an effect on you?

Dedicated to all of your hustlers? All of the people down at the bottom?? All the terror you brag about committing in Mexico, was it not perpetrated upon these said people?

Why is a murderer pandering? I’m very concerned, I think I’m on the precipice of witnessing Llorona kissing babies and fat men, right after you sell products to their 15-year-old addict baby mommas, for some extra cash of course. You’re starting to talk about your success opening the room for others like you’re some kind of rising tide lifting all ships, when we both know you’re just a selfish killer from a shithole, and that lack of shame was your charm as far as I was concerned. We both know what you’re doing right now, and it’s eye-roll inducing. Are you an activist now? Save it for when you’re running for office. I’m not some guilt-tripped idiot who is about to be moved by some sob story about you being seen as “undesirable” and how you’re the type of person people are afraid of because in a just world you’d be just as worthy as the rest of them are. Earth to Llorona, you’re not some saintly refugee that has room to be telling these stories and trying draw sympathy, you’re the one who makes the refugees and people care about them because they had to run away from your brand of crime. You say people look at you as a scumbag, undesirable, and whatever other words, and you say it as if it’s wrong for them to do so. Why should you be allowed into gated communities? Are people supposed to desire bodybag fillers? What kind of world would we be living in if even a proud serial killer cannot qualify for being called scum? I know you know I won’t fall for this, so you must be trying to scam these people, or maybe deep down you’re feeling some type of way now that you can represent your country at home. Either way, it just shows how horrid people can be when they have no leg to stand on and have to fill in the gaps for why society has given them a tough time, so they can either sell their nonsense to others or get hooked on their own supply of delusion. If the people of Mexico are going to treat you like some sort homecoming hero, they’re no better than the scoundrels in Ireland that cheer on a man who punches old men at bars, which is to be expected since many fill in their empty lives with national pride. Me? I don’t care if you’re cheered and I get the most heated reception in the country, I am always away from home and smashing up hometown favourites to the dread of the audience.

And I don’t just mean Americans in America, I mean every shadow of a goddess that is found in the corners of the tight nit Odyssey locker room.

I may be better than everyone, an “elitist” for a lack of a better word, but I’m still an outsider. Let’s not act as if I care about the strife between Mexico and the States, you’re all south to me. Let’s not pretend as if I’m a representative of the OWA ceiling, a poster girl, or in the pocket of Viola DEMARCO, no one supports me because they have a particular affection for me. I am just as foreign as you are, except your foreign trash and I’m effectively foreign royalty. You think a Saudi Prince cares what goes on in the minds and slums of the American impoverished? Not one bit, they simply throw their weight around at the dismay of the poor, middle class, and rich nationals that have no choice but all alike be swayed by the power of an outside influence that is too strong to deny. That is also my role in both America and especially OWA. DeMarco’s clear favourite is Dulce, OWA’s gated community of poster girls are the OWA legends that neither of us is apart of. You and I were on the same poster, because they had no other choice but to let us on it. Though, I guess, they, or yourself, did get that massive chin of yours covered up for Hardcore Havoc advertisement. Someone thought even crime Paraphernalia was more marketable than anything with your chin exposed. I’m the only person in OWA who is capable of treating that rough jaw like glass, everyone else that would hit it would break their flimsy little hands, but I make contact I starch you.

Face it, your real problem with me is that I’m the only woman who can stand up to you, the only one who isn’t scared of you for who you are.

Your power resides over those who always follow the rules and believe in the hype behind street thugs. We’re both lawbreakers, except I break laws that over-regulate net positives on society, you’re just an indecent person who brings no material value to the world. Some people, who have never been in a true knock-down, drag-out fight, see killers like you as invincible, but yet well-trained cops and soldiers arrest and kill mass murderers all the time. Prisons are filled with young gangsters, and so are graveyards. Forget mafia bosses and low-level thugs, even war criminal heads of countries get murdered by good ol clean western boys. Hell, mafioso aren’t even safe from other criminals, just this week back home in Canada big-time mobster Pat Musitano got murdered while his injured bodyguards couldn’t protect him and it followed the news back home. It doesn’t matter how long a criminal’s rap sheet is, as long as there are people out there that know what they’re doing and are capable of taking a shot, anyone can be killed as easily as anyone else. There isn’t any reason you should believe you can’t get “popped” by me Llorona, “stable” members of society deal with your criminal element all the time. I’ve already defeated you the last time we’ve met one on one. It seems that little moment with your switchblade did not show you enough of my grit. Even defeating you has not erased this strange unearned confidence you have. I understand, nothing was truly at stake those times. As disgusting as it is, you’re human, so you fall under the same trap as many others do. When nothing is there to fill in the holes for you, you fill in the gaps with whatever suits you.

When you hear that I’m not afraid of you, you can plug in your ears and say no one can truly know that! You try to visualize what is unknown to you as something favourable!

That time your blade was out? You can tell yourself, unlike her theme song, Jonetta would have been shaken if it was in my country! That time I beat you? You tell yourself, it would be different if it was an important match because we’ve never fought one on one with something big on the line! So many fraudulent and desperate ideas you have come up with, just to reassure yourself that you stand a chance against me. Everything you have come up within your ignorant mind will evaporate when we meet. And I fill in the gaps once called unknown, with myself as the winner of the Athena’s Cup.

Diantha Rosso has spoken. It’s such good shit!

Re: OWA Promos July 14th 2020, 9:46 pm by **J.D. Damon**

“Stupidy.”

“Do you know what the definition of “stupidity” is, Maverick? It is behavior that shows a lack of good sense or judgment. Need I say more? There isn’t a word in the English language that best describes you, Mav. Every single thing that you do is absolutely stupid. What you did to me last week on Kingdom? Stupid. When you decided to run your suck hole on and on about your little tribe of jackasses being the “greatest thing since sliced bread?” Fucking stupid. Shit, even the dumb ass look on your face every time I see you is stupid. Have I mentioned how stupid you truly are? I feel like I’ve made my point. Okay, sure, maybe Wolvesden is obsolete. Kenny Drake is enjoying his life away from the wrestling world. Nate Cage is… well, he’s Nate Cage. I have come to terms that Wolvesden may be no more, but I will not - WILL NOT - allow someone such as yourself spit on the Wolvesden name. Something that I CREATED! Regardless of what you think you know regarding the history of the greatest faction to ever grace God’s green earth or not, I was the one who created Wolvesden. I was the mastermind that planted the seeds for Wolvesden many years ago. So before you walk around with that stupid look across your face and say that I was at the bottom of the Wolvesden barrel or that I’m just some Kenny Drake lackey, think again. If it wasn’t for me - ME - there would have been no Wolvesden. If there was never a Wolvesden… then there would not have ever been any “ashes of any type of wake.” Quick, Doc! Get the DeLorean! I must go back in time and make sure that the 2016 version of myself never creates Wolvesden. Jokes aside, Maverick, you’re looking at the evil genius behind the single greatest entity you have ever laid your pathetic eyes on.”

“So, I guess it’s time to address the elephant in the room, eh? Kingdom… didn’t go as I had planned. Not… one bit. I could sit here and put all of the blame on Jeff X, or I could say that it was all Arata’s fault, but I would by lying. I would be lying to you, I would be lying to everyone who witnessed all of the carnage, but more importantly… I would by lying to myself. I failed those two men. They both put all of their faith in me that I would make sure that we would lay waste to you and your two rejects before Boiling Point. But in the end? We were laying in a heap around ringside. However, I’m still standing, aren’t I? You thought you could put an end to me, Maverick. You thought wholeheartedly that you would KILL J.D. Damon right then and there, and then there would be no Boiling Point match. You did whatever you could. You pulled out all of the stops. You used every single ounce of strength that you had… BUT I’M STILL STANDING, BITCH! You can’t kill me, Mav. Last week, you three may have won the battle, but believe me when I say that the WAR has just begun. You know, I’m going to take back what I said. I didn’t fail Jeff or Arata. I didn’t fail anyone, because failure is never an option. It was a lesson learned, if you will. A very hard lesson learned, but a lesson learned nonetheless. Next time when we meet, I promise you that the results will not be the same. You thought it was funny when I had my head nearly kicked in with that punt kick? Cute. Real cute. I will make sure that I don’t kick your head in. I’ll make sure that I decapitate your ass.”

“You talk about that I will never be as good as the men that handed me the keys to the kingdom that was Wolvesden? On the contrary my delusional friend. I was the one who handed the keys to said kingdom to those men. I was the one who gave them my blessing to continue on as Wolvesden without me. And you know what? They fucking soared as Wolvesden, just like I knew they would. I was fine with them continuing on with the Wolvesden name without me. And look what it did for them. Inaguraul OWA tag team champions. Kenny Drake soared to new heights and became the greates OWA World Champion. And me? I’m the last man standing, and I will do whatever it takes to make sure that mediocre flavors of the month, such as yourself, never tarnish the Wolvesden name again.I fully understand that the odds are heavily against me. Maverick, you have your group backing you for this match, and me? Well, I’m on my own. Just like you said, I’m a one man army. A one man army that is going to DEMOLISH you and whoever is stupid enough to come with you. I’m not afraid of you, Maverick, or any of your little lackies. I have faced men far greater than you will ever imagine of being, and ended their careers in the process. Every little thing that you utter out of you cock sucker is nothing but lies. You are nothing more than a scared little boy hiding behind a mask. A mask that you put on every week before you go out to the ring to make everyone around you believe that you are some sore of bad ass. It’s all a joke. Everything about you is a joke, Maverick. And I will love nothing more to expose it all at Boiling Point. Expose that you are a complete JOKE.”

“You want to leave me behind with a legacy dead and buried? At least I have a legacy to leave behind, motherfucker. What will you have when everything is said and done? Nothing except a very expensive hospital bill.”

“You want to attempt to kill me at Boiling Point and make it look like an accident? That’s pretty petty of you, Mav. Why would you even bother making it look like an accident? Because when push comes to shove and I do in fact MURDER you this weekend, I’m not going to try to cover up my tracks and make it look like some sort of accident. Fuck no. I’m going to scream at the top of my lungs that I was the man who killed - KILLED - Maverick in the center of the ring. And then at that very moment, the rest of your Ashes of the Wake will be put on notice by me. I will go through each of them one by one until you all are exactly what you say you are… ASHES.”

OWA Promos - Page 9 RemarkableUnfortunateHawaiianmonkseal-small

Scott Oasis has spoken. It’s such good shit!

Re: OWA Promos July 14th 2020, 8:40 pm by **Dulce Torres**

My apologies, that was inappropriate for me to post onto the screen, but it’s taken me quite some time to look at what she posted and sink into my mind. My opponent for Atlantis is a bit eccentric. She refers to herself as “we” rather than me. Normally, people who refer to themselves as “we,” are a red flag and it’s something that I’m not trying to mock the situation of because I will be due for the “you shouldn’t laugh at me because I will murder you” blah, blah and blah. I don’t want to make fun of the situation. Going up against Morrighan McDonnell isn’t something to be laughing about because going up against anyone with a “dark side” to themselves is something that I shouldn’t be rubbing the wrong way. How many “dark sides” do we have in OWA? You got Christopher Sabertooth with Havoc; you have The Udy, who doesn’t seem to have a clue about who he is. I’m not here to knack on people for bringing a new side to themselves, but I’m quite underwhelmed because it’s not the first time that I’ve seen it throughout my wrestling career nor is it going to be the last time. Personally, it wouldn’t be something that I would do with myself. You’re not going to see Dulce Torres putting on circus makeup and calling herself “Sourface,” the alter ego and total opposite of her Dulce - which means “sweet” by the way -- for those that are familiar with the Spanish language. I just think the entire thing is ridiculous. I don’t like to be someone that hides behind a stick. You are not going to expect me to murder someone on Atlantis and being all like: “ that wasn’t me. That was Sourface!” like I was in that movie, Split. It’s very quite humorous and something that I actually took time to think about, but I like finding the humor and positivity in these types of situations. Having to watch Boiling Point happen this weekend and with me not finding myself on the card, it’s a bit discouraging, but I’ll do what I do best and that supports all of my peers that are competing this weekend. As for me, I like to use Atlantis as a wonderful way not to sit on my butt on weeks that I’m supposed to be preparing for a match. Normally, I would be preparing for a title defense or big match, but this is one of the first times in recent memory where I’m not doing any of that. I’m being left off the big card and it incredibly sucks. There were women like Llorona who were like: “missing one PPV is not going to hurt you.” For a talent like myself, who has established herself as one of the best on Odyssey, I don’t see this hurting me in the long run, but it’s not an experience I would not like to have again. I am not the type of talent that anyone should be wanting to keep in the back and with my performance on Atlantis, everyone will know that for sure.

I don’t expect for people to praise and worship the ground I walk on. I don’t even consider myself as the “golden girl” on Odyssey. I’ve had people from Jonetta Stone to Llorona to Natalie Cage and everyone else in between who likes to think of me. They think of me as the “favorite.” They think of me as someone who should be protected at all costs. I’m nothing more than a woman who refuses to come off as entitled or bitter unlike some of the women who have come in and out those Odyssey doors. I’ve never been the one to push my weight around and it’s not because I’m afraid of conflict, but I’ve never been placed in the position where I feel like I need to do that. I’ve been fortunate for everything that I have been able to gain during my time in OWA. I’ve been blessed to get in the ring with some of the most amazing talents that this company has ever seen. There’s something that people want to know...does all of that go away just because I’m not in the title picture? Does that feeling completely disappear because I’m in an episode of Atlantis rather than the Boiling Point card? It doesn’t. It’s not going to disappear. The mentality to perform in the highest skill possible doesn’t go away because I’m not on the Boiling Point card. Instead, I feel that these people deserve to get the best of what I have to offer. I will still perform at my very best and Morrighan shouldn’t worry about that. Anything less than my best is a concept that’s unheard of. I go into each match and give it my all. Don’t you think that people deserve that from me? Maybe, it’s one of the factors that has gotten me the adoration and praise of the fans. I never step into the ring and feel entitled to the love and respect out of everyone. I earned all of their love. I earned all of their respect and praise. It makes people “seethe” at the idea of seeing me headlining all the PPVs. It makes people tremble in jealousy because they could only wish to have the fraction of all of the love, respect, praise, and adoration that I am more than fortunate to have. I hate to pull out the “jealousy” card, but that’s exactly what it is with a good portion of the women that have some bone to pick at me. It’s sad that only one of the women that have ever had an issue with me had the balls to confirm my suspicions, but Morrighan has too much pride in herself. She strikes me as one of these women who will never admit to being jealous of someone like myself. If Morrighan can throw away everything that’s made her Morrighan, she would do so in a heartbeat. She doesn’t need to say it out loud, but I have the impression that she would throw everything away if it meant to get a sample of some of the success that I managed to get for myself.

If it means anything, there’s a part of me that wishes that I can have some of the aggression that some of these women have. The women on this roster are as ruthless as they can be and that is something that I can’t look over old wrestling tapes to take notes on. I’ve come to the point that you’re only either born with it or you’ve grown up to inherit some of those traits. It’s something that I’ve been waiting to happen. I feel like if I have that killer instinct, I would still be OWA Women’s World Champion and I am confident about that. It sucks and I am trying to look for ways to attain that trait for myself and I have the feeling that I’ll get there one day, but will it be at Atlantis? Will it be on the next episode of Odyssey? Will it be at the next PPV? Who knows, but if there is something that Morrighan has over me, it would be her killer instinct. It would be her mentality to rip apart the competition that stands in front of her. This week, it happens to be me. I am the competition that stands in front of her, but don’t get my words twisted - I refuse to be the opponent that she rips apart. I refuse to be the opponent who is placed on her way to get something going for herself. She has something right - I don’t want to be anyone’s “feel-good victory.” I don’t want to be that credible victory for her because I have suffered a few setbacks in these past few months and it’s something that I don’t want to experience once again. Losing this match at Atlantis, may or may not be the confirmation that I’ve really fallen from my glory days. Have I really lost my touch? Have I really lost my winning ways? Was I even deserving of the success that I have gotten? These are questions that cross my mind every now and then. I don’t want those questions to fester my mind and I won’t allow them to hold me back going into this match. I shouldn’t be in this position, but I am going to make the most out of this position. I will give everyone a show-stopping performance that can only be seen in PPVs. I will amaze them. I will captivate them. I will leave everyone speechless. I will win. Morrighan can bring everything that she has to offer. She can try to strike as much fear into me as possible, but I can see her games from a mile away. I can see through The Banshee. I do expect her to give me the fight to remember. That’s the one thing that I ask for all of my competition, but another thing would be to never count me out. That is all.

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

Re: OWA Promos July 14th 2020, 6:44 pm by **"The Golden Voice"**

“Do not despair, my love. Don’t be troubled, even if you sit near Death’s door, waiting for the end. For every one of you that falls, another shall arise.”

Michael Bishop didn’t defeat my husband. He merely survived him. Everyone saw the look on his face when he was declared the victor. He felt the strength of Distortion World for himself...and sacrificed his own humanity just to survive. He will never be the same again. But what now? Most of you think that the same thing that befell him once he failed to unseat Finnegan Wakefield a long time ago will happen, yes? That he will retreat back into the darkness and stay hidden for some time. I can assure you that is not the case. Bishop did make good on his promise to win, to shed blood, to leave marks that will never go away. We made good on our promises as well: to make sure that he is well acquainted with my dear husband’s strength. He saw only a glimpse of what Maelstrom can do. Now it’s time the rest of the world to experience Distortion World at full force.

“For every drop of blood shed, you come closer to godhood.”

We still have much work to be done. There needs to be more than just an example. My estimation is that those who make the matches and arrange these displays of my husband’s power don’t understand his true strength. In his first match in Omega Wrestling Alliance, the hardest man you have left the arena after spilling his own share of blood and being reduced to a mindless animal. What do you think will happen to the little lambs that have been assembled to stand in his way next? There are so many who think they are just marching into a typical wrestling match, that this is just another “cluserfuck” battle royal. Far from it.

“You do not know fear, you do not know pain. You know only destruction as a means to creation. Distortion as the catalyst for order.”

The list of entrants into this match? Nothing more than a list of those awaiting the hangman’s noose. They have been weighed, the drops calculated, the rope has been stretched. All that’s left to be done is to spring the trap. Some of them, like Gwen Harper, seem happy to supply the rope themselves. Yes, Maelstrom can survive your Buckshot. He can survive anything that you throw at him. But the true question is this: can you survive HIS onslaught? Bishop was spiritually broken even though he was awarded victory last week. I saw it in his eyes. I will see a different sort of emptiness in your eyes when my magnificent husband shows you what true conquest, true darkness looks like. And you needn’t worry about me standing in your way. I alone would be more than a match for you, but I will only be there to watch as you’re battered and discarded like the trash that you are. Liara Lawson. You are someone that I actually like for some reason. Maybe it’s a tinge of amusement, like a doting owner has for a mischievous pet. You talk very well, you wrestle decently, but you have not been in the ring with anything like my Husband. The people who step in the ring with him never leave the same. There are pieces of them that are left in His wake. I will give you a word of advice: Stay Home. Stay away from Mexico City. You have no place in the carnage that is about to take place. There will be plenty of other opportunities to make your name, plenty of time to get the attention that you so desperately crave. Don’t show up like the others only to become another little lamb to add to the slaughter.

“Rise, dear Husband. Rise and complete the tasks given to you.”

Who else is there? Mark Michaels? Do you truly understand what you are getting yourself into, cagey veteran? Do you think all your years of experience are going to save you from the abyss? Are you truly this stupid? Is glory worth your very humanity? Is recognition worth your blood? Please come to Mexico City and find out. It will amuse me to watch the realization hit you that no matter how hard you hit my husband, no matter how much you call on years of experience...He will keep coming. You see, the spoils of victory in a match like this are of little consequence. We know that he could beat either of the two potential holders of the OWA Openweight Championship, but that’s not why we are here. We are here for something far more important, far more glorious than that. The promise of Perfect Distortion. I know that you will write off what I say as the sad ravings of a lunatic. I know that Bishop being able to do what he did will give you a small semblance of hope. Maybe you think that if he proves too much for you that you’ll align yourself with others and try to eliminate him.

None of it will save you.

We are not here to be the “Baddest Newcomers” or to claim the glory that you so-called warriors cling to like a security blanket. We are here to simply usher in something truly glorious. Something that you just wouldn’t understand because you’re only obsessed with the material, the tangible. Well, that may not apply to all of you. There are some among you who may be of use to us, but that remains to be seen. For the time being, prove your worth to Maelstrom. Prove you’re worthy to stand up to him and maybe one day stand at his side.

“I have seen the beginning and the end; I have seen the Abyss. Distortion World will become a reality. All in due time, all in accordance with the plans we’ve made.”

Who else is there, huh? Devi Krysis? Please. Oliver Harpe? Liara Lawson? Bada Dik Baap? HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Shinkendesu ka? Are you serious? There is one person who I am personally interested in watching compete. This Theodor Pavel. I happened to watch how his match with Aria Jaxon went and I was thoroughly impressed. He has all the attributes that makes him formidable opposition for my Maelstrom: he is big enough, strong enough, skilled enough and tough enough. There is one fatal flaw that he has that I know for sure just by looking into his eyes: he has no killer instinct. He had many chances to kill off Aria Jaxon’s Outlaw title reign and as much as his handler can say he pulled punches...why would he? Is he scared to cause pain to others? Is he frightened that he may have broken one of the golden geese? Did he have genuine sympathy? I hope for his sake that he leaves such tender notions at the door because Maelstrom doesn’t comprehend compassion. He doesn’t care for those who don’t directly tie into his plans. He has to come with the intent to kill. He has to come with no remorse, no designs on offering the smallest mercy...because I can assure you that he will receive none!

“Awaken now...AWAKEN AND SHOW THEM THE WAY TO OBLIVION!”

There is so much to be revealed in the next few days. So many truths that I know but all of you take for fiction. The names of those competing against my husband don’t matter to us. We take stock of people like Ryo, Azurine, Jacob Nighttime and others given the privilege of suffering punishment at his hands...and discard the names as quickly as they register in our minds. Why should we care about these people? Why should we bother to give an account of them when they give no account of themselves? Gaming, cooking? Pretending to be something that you are not? We don’t care. He will slaughter you all. He will win this Battle Royal. And then, regardless of opponent, the OWA Openweight Championship will be plunged into the darkness.

Michael Bishop. Let it be known that I am not satisfied with our fight. I brought you close to the gate that binds this weak, mortal plane to Distortion World, but we will cross paths again. You will see this face again and know that you indeed spilled the blood of a man...only to awaken a God from his slumber. Our next meeting will have to wait, however. You must go to the Steel Asylum and I am left to contend with the wayward souls forced to stand in front of me. The woman who hunts in the woods is nothing to me. The martial artists, those who rot their brains with games or dreams of riches do not excite me. They are all skilled athletes, champions and other archaic descriptions that will mean nothing when they are all gone. This contest has one purpose and one purpose alone to MAELSTROM: sacrifices to atone for my failures of the past. The ring is the altar chosen by Fate where I will deliver them all to the endless darkness.

There are some in this battle royal that understand what Distortion World means and fully comprehend the length that I will go to shroud the Omega Wrestling Alliance in my dark vision. There are others who do not. There are some like Pavel and Harper, those so eager to make a name for themselves, who take these matches as exhibitions to test their strength. MAELSTROM does not test your skill....He tests your Humanity. He tests your very will to exist. Do you understand, insects? Do you understand that this is not the avenue to pursue your cliched, useless glory and riches, Michaels? Do you think that experience will save you from my wrath?

There is one who Maelstrom will place a special priority on to make sure that they are completely destroyed. Udy...Udy. Krishna, False God. You speak absolute nonsense and expect someone like MAELSTROM to cower before you. Do you think your false promises and weak magic will be enough to stop me? You are even worse than the rest of the vermin who infest the sacred altar of the ring. You can summon your creatures, bring your fire, do whatever you must. You will fall just like the rest will fall. You will be proven a false idol in front of the entire world. Your Krishna will be rendered powerless. And then what will you do, child? Will you go and summon another personality to fight MAELSTROM? Will you go back to pandering to the drones that sit in arenas week after week? What will you do when I’ve taken everything, when I’ve opened your eyes to the reality that you are not as strong as you claim?

These hands...they are the hands that CHAIN DOWN beasts. They overcome hunters. They claim the gold that the greedy lust over. You, Udy, will be a special sacrifice. Because you insult me by claiming to be the one to bring this world to an end. Because of your pathetic attempts to intimidate MAELSTROM. Because of your mere existence. There is only one Harbinger of Destruction, only ONE who holds the keys to Chaos and Order. MAELSTROM is that one. Your body will be the first of many who will be consumed by the darkness of my Distortion World.

I await what all of you will say now that I have recovered my power and spoken. Make no mistake, none of it matters when Meltdown arrives. There will be no happy endings, no return to glory, no tales of riches and success claimed at the expense of MAELSTROM. Only realizations of the truth. What are all of you willing to give up to stop me from achieving my vision? Your bodies? Your souls? Your careers? What will you sacrifice to stop Distortion World?

None of it will be enough.

And then, whoever survives Boiling Point, it doesn’t matter. The Vincent or Baba Yaga, neither will go much further. MAELSTROM has no reason to fear the childish one and he laughs at the ones called the Ashes of the Wake. They will fall, either way. Then, with that title claimed, the work can begin in earnest. Very soon, my true purpose will be revealed, the shroud that blinds you all to the truth will finally be lifted. It will be a day long remembered in Omega Wrestling Alliance’s history. But, for now, MAELSTROM will keep the true nature of those plans quiet. The calm before the storm, an old expression...but appropriate. None of that matters to those assembled against me. All they should know is that all of their efforts will be for nothing, that they will be absolutely destroyed if they oppose me.

Those of you who value your lives will not stand up to MAELSTROM, you will NOT engage him in this sanctioned slaughter...lest you choose to offer yourself up to a God to satiate His hunger.

Therefore will I number you to the sword, and ye shall all bow down to the slaughter: because when I called, ye did not answer; when I spake, ye did not hear; but did evil before mine eyes, and did choose that wherein I delighted not.

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

Re: OWA Promos July 14th 2020, 6:15 pm by Liara

am I dead and in hell and just never even noticed
Atlantis: Meltdown #2

Well, it seems to me like nobody wants to talk to me. Feels like there's not so many folks talking about this match, and the ones that do, just ignore me. Was it something I said? Did I go and offend someone? I don't think I did, but then again, I don't usually think I do when I do, so who the fuck knows. Or maybe ya'll are just waiting until the last minute to try and drop some shit. I guess we'll only find out through having a little patience. Luckily a little patience is about the best that I can muster.

Mr Horror showed up to the party though. He seems... interesting. I don't even know if that's the right word. He seems like he's a few sandwiches short of a picnic; probably a bit better of a description. Surprisingly, you were right about something. Hold the front page! You said that people are gonna realise that their favourite won't win the match. That's pretty much true. There's eighteen of us in there, and everyone's someone's favourite, so it stands to reason that most people will be wrong. Most are gonna end up disappointed. There's probably gonna be a few sad faces when Maelstrom gets thrown out, or when Jacob... nah, when Rebecca Brookes gets sent over the top. So yeah, there's a lot of wrestlers, and a lot of fans that are gonna be disappointed. Not me though, and not mine.

You're The Risk-Taker, Daniel? Or do you prefer Mr. Horror? Well I got something for ya. You're taking a risk just by getting in the same ring as me. While you're in that dirty ass basement of yours - and God only knows what the fuck you've got hidden in there - look down at the ground. See all the dirt? That's what I see when I look at you. I look down, way down, and there you are. But hey, all's not lost for you, because you got your wish; I suffered. Boy, did I ever fucking suffer. You know when, Danny? You wanna know? I'll tell you. When I listened to your fucking promo. You know all the things I could've done in the twenty seconds I spent listening to you? A line. A bottle of beer. Shit, I could've just fucked you and it would've been over just as quick. Twenty seconds is also around the same length of time that you'll actually stay in this Battle Royal. But fuck it, I'm a nice person, so thanks for the introduction.

Shit Udy, you ignored me? What the fuck's so special about Gwen Harper that you talk to her and not me? Man, fuck you. Or maybe, just maybe, you're thinking back to when you're a little kid. You know, when you cover your eyes when your parents are right in front of you - you can't see them, so they can't see you, that sort of thing. That what you're doing with me? If you don't talk to me, it means I'm not there? Ignore me and I'll go away? I won't. I am here. I'm fucking real. I'm all real baby, ain't no plastic here. And what the fuck is it with this place. You. Daniel Horror. Fucking Morrighan McDonnell, talking like me beating her was part of her grand plan. The internal Beast, The Banshee, Horror running about with a knife - shit, am I dead and in hell and just never even noticed, I mean seriously, what the fuck? Udy, you're an Infernal Pain in the Ass. So come Atlantis: Meltdown, if Gwen doesn't throw you out first for shit talking her, then I'm gonna throw you out for ignoring me. Shit son, you just can't win.

I do exist! Gwen Harper, aren't you just a lovely little doll? I'll drink with you before, I'll fight you, and then I'll drink with you after. Shit, it seems that meeting a normal, rational minded human being is a fucking rarity here in the old OWA. Well, I say rational minded, but then you go and say you're gonna aid me out the ring. I don't take offence to... well anything really, but I do find it funny that you think you will. Straight up, darling, that ain't gonna happen. You want to shoot for me? I welcome it, be my guest and go right ahead. What's that little saying... Shoot for the moon. Even if you miss you will land among the stars? Shit, I don't know, it's something like that though. But yeah, you shoot for me, and you never know, even in defeat you could come out looking good. Unless you come at me right off the bat, in which case you'll be thrown out early, and that just won't be a good look. You can't have Jacob Nighttime outlasting you, seriously. That shit won't look good on anyone's record.

We are the ones going in to this with all the momentum, you're absolutely right. This match is a cluster fuck, you're absolutely right. Fortunately, I love a good cluster fuck. The clusterier and fuckier the better. I thrive in that shit. Now, as good as you've been, and as good as you are, you simply don't have what it takes to throw me out. There isn't a single shred of doubt in my mind that you'll be one of the last few in this thing. Shit, if I wasn't in it, then you'd probably be my pick. I am in it though, and I'm not about to let anything get in between me and the chance at a title.

You know what losing feels like, I know what losing feels like; shit, everyone knows what losing feels like, but it never quite prepares you for actually losing. It never seems to make it any softer. It's shit. It sucks. I hate it. I've also accepted it. I lost to Dulce Torres, and what could I have done different? Not much, it could've gone either way, and it was me to lose. That doesn't make it okay though. It's not fine. That's my thoughts on getting beat, so I don't know what yours are, Gwen, but if you're someone that gets hit hard by a loss, then you're in for a rough Friday night. Now I get it, it's a Battle Royal, so it's not really a defeat per se, but it still ain't a win, is it?

Theodor Pavel. Banch Morgan. Who is Liara Lawson? You been walking around with your eyes closed? Yeah, I'm thinking maybe you're right, maybe your old age is catching up on you. Who am I? Who the fuck are you? I'm Liara fucking Lawson, and on Friday night you'll have an up close look of me beating the shit out of your boy. Theodor don't even speak English and he still speaks more sense than you. Yeah, I beat the brains out of my opposition. You know who my opposition is at Meltdown? Your boy Theo. That's the next brain to be beaten out. Although the question's gotta be asked; if he's allowing you to manage him, Branch, how many brain cells does he really have to be beaten out? Given your lack of knowledge of his opponents, how big a brain does he really have, to be associating himself with you? Considering he don't even know the fucking rules to a Battle Royal, is he really someone I give a fuck about? I mean come on, man, are you for real? You shouldn't be calling me out, call out Daniel Horror or something, he's a little more on Theo's level.

You question who I am? Well here's another one back at you. Who the fuck is Kyle? You're sitting there on a fucking ridiculous throne boasting about Theo beating Kyle in twenty-six seconds? Who gives a fuck? You think that makes you a threat? You think that win puts fear into his opponents? You think that it's gonna make me shake and tremble with nerves? You think it's gonna cause anyone to lose even a seconds sleep? Man, it don't mean shit. Fucking Kyle. Theo, you ain't winning shit, and you sure as hell won't be throwing a fucking Saint over the top. Lower your expectations from me, and maybe you'll go somewhere. Until then? Nah.

Is that it though? Really, ain't no one else got anything to say? The opportunity to earn yourself a title match, and ya'll have lost your tongue's. Well, I've not lost mine; I don't know whether that's a good thing or not, but I'll see every single one of you on Friday.

And then come Saturday night - or Sunday - 'cause, shit, I don't know when Baba versus Vinnie's gonna happen, but either way when it does, I'm gonna get to sit down with my feet up, a cold beer in hand, and enjoy it. Sit back, relax, and see who's gonna be losing that Openweight Championship to me. Doesn't make the slightest bit of difference to me, which one of you it is, 'case the end result's gonna be the exact same either way.

VaeVictisBD, Aria Jaxon, Emmanuelle and Devi Krysis have spoken. It’s such good shit!

Meltdown Promo

“Twenty six seconds. It was all so simple. A nice suplex here, playful elbows by my client there. Finally one small step from Theodor The Great, one giant fall from Kyle. Twenty six seconds. Is that so hard to believe?”

With a confident smirk along his lips, the ‘Modern Day Goliath’ Banch Morgan sits in his flawless white throne chair. While his bright blue Vercase suit clashes wildly against the color, Morgan is on cloud nine. In his hand, a nice cigar, held carelessly over the ashtray held by his assistant, Veronica. The past week was a difficult one for him.

“I want you to close your eyes for a moment. Good. Imagine a world where cartoon characters and weak, irresponsible children aren’t running around the world of Professional Wrestling. All the pressures of facing the public in a business littered with garbage, all gone. A world where men and women don’t have to be ashamed to be in the sport. Nine years ago, I saw where the business was going, and took the exit as only I know how, on top. It wasn’t until I met Theodor The Great, that I remembered what I love about professional wrestling, and that is competition. The ruthless nature of war has its place in the world. Theodor has simply become the soldier that every side wants to be aligned with. However, after all the calls from each side, I simply had Veronica block the numbers for me. Theodor The Great is NOT for sale. He has a legacy on his own that he is meaning to build. It started weeks ago when he took your prize pig, and made an example out of her in his very first match. He flew overseas and took down two of the biggest, baddest legends in professional wrestling. That wasn’t enough? He came back, and took one look at Kyle, knowing that the end was near. Theodor Pavel, in my humble opinion, is still undefeated. Until a man is pinned, and until a man has submitted, he has not lost.”

After eyeballing his cigar for a moment, he takes a few puffs from it before hovering it over the ashtray again.

“Omega Wrestling Alliance now knows what I’ve known all along. They witnessed it first hand, my client doesn’t believe in marathons. He doesn’t believe in sprints. My client believes in victory. Victory on HIS terms. Which leads to Atlantis, Meltdown I believe is what you are calling it. You decided that it was necessary to put Theodor The Great inside of a ring with a bunch of animals, all for a dangling piece of meat, called an opportunity at the OWA Openweight Championship. Obviously, I enjoy gold. Obviously, Theodor The Great is beginning to develop a taste for gold. At first, it was blood. Everyone talked about it, he was Vlad the Impaler. He was Count Dracula. Now you see him simply as Theodor. You see the myths of Dracula, and you wonder just what would it take for Dracula to be half the beast that Theodor is? It’s frightening. Mary Shelley should find her out of the grave, and write the book the way that it should have been written the first time. Mary Shelley’s Theodor. The first victim escaped with her life. The brutes in Ireland, and the stoner on Kingdom suffered a worse fate. They left in bags.”

Although Theodor is nowhere to be seen, his presence is felt in such a tremendous way. The legend continues to grow each passing day, as more victims will fall by the wayside.

“The Meltdown will continue for the OWA roster. In the sights of Hands of Ice himself, there are several who want the same opportunity that Theodor should simply be handed. Let’s talk. Fans were asked who they believed would win this upcoming match. Obviously the OWA fans are as delusional and careless as the wrestlers. They believe somebody other than Theodor The Great will come away with victory? Who is Liara Lawson? Maybe it’s my old age catching up, but do you really feel that somebody like her would stand a chance? This has all been done before. The weakling from the broken home finally catches a break by beating the brains out of her opposition. Oh? She has a band? Well, that makes her definitely on par to face a killer athlete. She wins sometimes? Who would I know that she has defeated? I don’t live in your small circles, so I haven’t heard of practically any of you. You’re just one of the many who are coasting nicely as a small little fish in a tank. You’re not long for this world, that’s why you’re not on Kingdom with the likes of Theodor. With that said, after Theodor devours the competition and tosses out every single person who comes his way, if you’re lucky, he’ll save you for last.”

Seriously, where do they get these people?

“I hear a little bit from time to time about Devi Krysis. Just the other day, for my own enjoyment, I was browsing around youtube, and found the most wonderful depiction of what today’s wrestling is. ‘Devi Krysis puts opponent to sleep’. Wow. It was impressive, so impressive. Oh, not the fact that you made someone pass out, but it resonated so much with the audience that they had fallen asleep long before that match ended. Hell, we can call you the Cure for Insomnia. I would like to read off, if I may, some of these wonderful comments from your ‘supporters’.

‘I didn’t know Gumby was a wrestler.’

I’m keeping that one for my personal collection, I enjoyed that.

‘How would one do a high right kick if both of their feet are left?’

Interesting, but true.

‘Is there a reason why she couldn’t do a real sport?’

Just look at her, evidently sandwiches are hard to come by out in Raleigh.

This is exactly what I’ve been talking about for the last few years. Any schlub can get into a wrestling ring now! You take prime, talented, stars in the making and force them to share a ring with people like this? This is competition? I’d say I’m going crazy, but let’s be real, I’m about the sanest person here if this is what is deemed acceptable.”

It’s incredible how ridiculous this business has become. He takes a few more puffs of the cigar before discarding it onto the ashtray. His assistant, not impressed with his words, forces the smile and bears it.

“It all boils down to common sense. There’s nobody in this world that can do what Theodor is going to do. There isn’t an ATHLETE in this world that trains the way he does. That eats what he does. That prepares himself mentally the way that he does. There is nobody remotely close. That Openweight Championship, hell it may as well sit on the mantle of Theodor The Great right now. When he puts all the lambs to slaughter, and crushes the hopes of many by becoming the Champion. They’re just going to have to retire the thing, nobody’s going to take it from him. Nobody.”

The confidence is high, and the praise is even higher. Morgan slowly steps up off of his throne and walks out of the shot. He knows that this is going to be a short lived run in OWA, as there just isn’t enough in the world to conquer.

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

Regardless of all the things that Morgan had said, the mindframe of Theodor is very different. Coming off of the easy win on Kingdom, and the brutal two-hour last man standing match he was victorious in Ireland at the Prince’s Ball. If he has shown anything, it’s that he is capable of finishing a match quickly, or grinding it out against some of the toughest competitors on Earth in a marathon. Only one blemish sits on his record, and in his eyes, she deserved the win. Contrary to all that he is told, Theodor is understanding of the development process. He has to continue learning.

Learning also comes at a cost, which the currency is pain, fatigue, and being browbeaten when he fails. His success at Kingdom entitled him to going to lunch with his new friend, Hana Nakajima. Morgan’s assistant Veronica accompanied the two. He was all smiles during lunch, having Veronica translate questions to Nakajima. A quick, respectful hug later, and a fun selfie of the two, the day was done. It was back to work for Theodor Pavel.

HOUSE OF PAINE ACADEMY
Culver City, CA

Nearly twenty men and women stand outside of the ring. Usually by this time, they’re doing drills and practice matches against one another. Today is different though.

Having never been involved in a battle royal before, this is a new territory for him. Even as he stands tall amongst the opposition, he has no idea what he’s getting himself into.

“Alright, what I want you guys to do is have a nice, fun battle royal with my client here. He does play rough, I’m warning you all ahead of time. Theodor, the object of the match is to throw your opponent over the top rope to the outside. Both feet have to touch. Good?”

Not catching anything that Morgan said, Theodor gives a quick high sign.

“Excellent, and GO!!”

All twenty of the combatants slide into the ring. It’s a few more than what is in the battle royal for OWA, but this is good practice. Everyone begins brawling in the ring, but Theodor remains calm. A young man charges Theodor, only for him to hit a reverse elbow, sending the man to the canvas. Now feeling the groove, Theodor storms to the middle of the ring, hitting everyone that moves with various forearms and leg kicks. He catches somebody looking for a clothesline, and takes them down into a Fujiwara Armbar, torquing back for a tap out. Problem is, no pins, no submissions in this one.

Theodor gets up, admiring his handiwork. He looks over at Morgan for approval, only to be dumped out over the top rope by three of the competitors. Theodor looks back into the ring before trying to slide back in, however Morgan and a trainer stop him.

“Trebuie să mă întorc acolo.”

“Theodor, you have to throw people over the top rope to eliminate them. You just got eliminated by a few guys, do NOT let them throw you out! Do you understand?”

Morgan uses hand gestures to try and convince Theodor that the only way to win the match is by throwing the opponent out. After some confusion, Theodor nods, giving another high sign.

“Alright guys, let’s restart the match.”

Theodor slides into the ring, and stands in the corner.

“Alright, and GO!!”

Seeing an opportunity, Theodor charges to the middle of the ring, again attacking anything that moves. One of the female students walks up, only to be met with the Roundhouse Kick. It’s a view of the lights for her!

“Oh..Shit!”

Looking at people scatter away from him, Theodor goes for the cover on the student.

“No, Theodor! THEODOR! Don’t pin her! Throw her over the top rope!”

Breaking up his own pinfall, Theodor looks at Morgan out of confusion. He points down at the unconscious student, and looks for the pinfall again.

“NO! Throw her over the top rope!”

Two of the other students attempt to pull Theodor off of her, only to be met with elbows and kicks from him. A sharp leg kick sends one of the students down, as Theodor again goes for the pinfall.

“For fuck’s sake! Can somebody PLEASE help me here? Theodor! Come on, don’t pin the guy.”

Smiling, Theodor realizes that Morgan doesn’t want the pin, and proceeds to apply a kneebar on the downed opponent.

“VERONICA!”

Morgan throws his hands onto his head, storming around in frustration. Veronica runs up to him, waiting for direction.

“The match is in four days! He doesn’t know how to do a battle royal! If he doesn’t figure this out NOW, he will not win. Which means he will not move up the ladder. Please, do something before I go off on him.”

Storming away in anger, Morgan waves his hands off at Theodor. Breaking the kneebar, Theodor kneels up in confusion. Did he do something wrong? Veronica walks over to the side of the ring, reaching out to Theodor. The disheveled Romanian looks outside at the exiting Morgan before turning his attention to Veronica. She struggles to remember everything she’s learned in the months working with Theodor.

“Dl Morgan vrea să înțelegi că pentru a câștiga meciul regal de luptă, nu poți să-ți pui sau să-ți trimiți adversarul.”

Confused, Theodor continues watching Veronica, trying to understand how to win the battle royal if he can’t pin somebody, or force them to submit.

“Trebuie să le arunci peste frânghia de sus. Îmi pare rău că românca mea e proastă, sper că înțelegeți.”

Nodding, as he finally understands how to win the match, Theodor looks at some of the carnage in the ring that he left before leaning in the corner.

“Fă-o pentru Hana!”

With a smile on his face, Theodor looks outside of the ring at Veronica. He bounces around the ring, muttering ‘Va fi atât de impresionată!’, or ‘she will be so impressed’ before charging to the middle of the ring, and clotheslining two students. Another comes in, only for Theodor to deadlift him up, and runs backwards to the ropes, throwing the opponent out. More opponents come, more opponents go. Left and right, they go flying over the top rope. By the time Morgan walks back into the room, the only people left in the ring are Theodor and the young lady that he kicked in the face. Astounded, Morgan looks at Veronica, who simply smiles at him.

“Wait, did he throw all of those people out of the ring?”

“He did.”

“All over the top rope?”

“Right over the top rope, sir.”

“And he didn’t try to pin anyone else, right?”

“Didn’t cross his mind.”

The excitement grows wild in the eyes of Morgan as he dances around for a moment, slamming the ring apron several times.

“You are the fucking man! Oh, I need to put money on this one. Veronica, get Vegas on the line, I’m throwing down. This sumbitch is going to rip everyone apart!”

He laughs hysterically, applauding Theodor, who springboards himself over the top to the floor. Unfortunately for him, not everybody was eliminated, causing Theodor to lose the contest. Morgan grits his teeth and his eyes bulge from frustration. Veronica quickly steps in front of Morgan, half laughing.

“We’ll work on that next!”

Morgan’s concern grows with the fear that Theodor will not understand, or remember the rules come Friday night. He and Veronica slowly walk away as Theodor looks on with a smile as the shot fades out.

Emmanuelle has spoken. It’s such good shit!

Re: OWA Promos July 14th 2020, 2:40 pm by **NikiKhanKTA**

PORTLAND, OR
ROOFTOPS - WILLAMETTE WEST BANK
12:25 am on MONDAY

The Portland skyline lights up the midnight sky; the neon dancing off the ripples in the Willamette River. The iconic “Portland, Oregon” sign shines the brightest, casting vibrant green and yellow hues into the air.

Standing in front of it are two men, wearing hoodies. The one wearing a backwards Blazers hat paces back and forth behind the other man, who holds up five fingers. They are TJ Burns and Tyler Bridges, respectively.

TYLER BRIDGES

Five days...in FIVE days, Teej and I face our biggest test yet.

TJ BURNS

In one working week...GRiME...Chaos Elite…The Nice Guys. Lucha rules. Tag titles.

TYLER BRIDGES

And here... we...go, boys. This is it. THIS is the moment every fuckin’ wrestling fan walkin’ this beautiful blue and green orb has been CLAMORING for!

TJ BURNS

First though? We gotta address the elephant in the room, Ty. We gotta talk about something…

TYLER BRIDGES

Yo, bruh, Travis apologized for that shit.

TJ BURNS

Nahnahnah, not him. He’s cool, that’s all good...it’s that we were down three-to-one, dude. Against fuckin CHAOS ELITE. Against NO WIN NOAH QUINN...and Eon Bluegivesafuck…

TYLER BRIDGES

Yo, but we got those two pins back, bro!

TJ BURNS

I DON’T GIVE A FUCK, TY! Cos if that match was ONE fall?! We woulda lost off that fuckin’ squirrel boy Noah Quinn being cheap! Us SCRAPING BY is starting to get REALLY FUCKING OLD. REALLY OLD.

TJ rips off his hat and tosses it to the ground, glaring into the camera.

TJ BURNS

CHAOS ELITE.

TJ starts clapping, hard and loud. He snarls out a small smile as he shakes his head.

TJ BURNS

I gotta hand it to you boys...You got us. A FEW times. Your plan worked pretty fuckin well! Be PROUD, kids! Be PROUD!

TJ grabs the camera with one hand and holds up his pointer finger on the other.

TJ BURNS

BECAUSE YOU GET THAT ONE. You understand? You get THAT ONE. NOW? WE know what you bring. NOW, the best tag team in this MOTHERFUCKER knows EXACTLY what they need to do to send you two jerkoffs back down to the bottom of the card where you belong. I’m sick and fuckin tired of being a fuckin joke, Ty. You and I are fuckin GOOD. REALLY, FUCKIN GOOD...and CHAOS ELITE?! They fuckin AINT. No amount of fuckin team building exercises or training can get you fuckin twats past yourselves ... Cos here’s the thing, fuckers...three-to-one...and what the fuck happened? Did you win? Did you get that big ass first win as a “tag team” you’ve been jawing about? Nah. Nah, bitches, you got a TIE. A fucking TIE. Because even when you two are at your PEAK...even when you two are working at your BEST...even when you two have the element of surprise, a massive deficit, and the fuckin deck STACKED...YOU. FALL. SHORT. We fuckin pulled out the stops, and we CAME BACK, and we PROVED HOW GOOD WE ARE…we coulda KEPT GOING, picked up the fuckin WIN, and had energy left to run a marathon...but whatever...HERE’s the thing, kids...your hand has been shown. You straight flipped your cards around, asked the table if you had a good hand, and now you’re going all FUCKIN in on a pair of Queens...and you fuckin’ losers sit there, shitty pampers and cookie crumbs on your faces, smiling like a couple of toddlers that proved their points by having a tantrum in Target. EYYYY YOU GOT SOME PINS! Daddy STILL loathes you, mommy is STILL drugged up, and NOBODY gives a FUCK about you two...STILL. Now, you said it before, Eon...this is nothing new. I’ve called you an overhyped fucktard and called your cumbag partner anything but interesting COUNTLESS times. You clearly are tired of my bedtime stories...So here’s something kinda new, you fuckin child. A HISTORY Lesson. When Ty and I were kids, we had NOBODY. His mom and dad got the fuck out when he was in diapers, and I think mine bailed even earlier than that. We were left...as CHILDREN...to navigate a world that gives most ADULTS too much shit to handle. When we found each other? It was like a gift from fuckin HEAVEN…but lemme tell ya, when you’re from the situation we are...and you’re in that fuckin meat grinder from the age we started? You wise up to just how crooked and fucked up this world really is. You open your fuckin eyes to the REALITY of life, and that’s that VIOLENCE? Solves EVERYTHING. A bum harassing you? Break his fuckin arm. Some fuckin prick at a bar trying to act tough? Break his fuckin jaw. We got tough, we got mean, and we got FUCKED UP REAL quick because THAT is what you have to do to stake your claim for respect in the real world. This world is a harsh, bitter, horrible fuckin place...and we had to become harsh, bitter, horrible fuckin people just to make it through. I’ll tell ya...if it wasn’t for Ty? For wrestling? I’d be fuckin dead. I woulda killed somebody, I woulda been a fuckin fiend, I woulda been any of the hundred things I shoulda...But I took my pain, and I channeled it into drive and determination. We got popular, we got money, we got food and a place to sleep...and it got us feeling comfortable. But you two?...you two are making me remember what got us here. Violence. A killer determination. A WANT to HURT people..YOU TWO...have SNAPPED us back into our GRIM reality...and lemme tell ya, you cowards wouldn’t last a DAY in it. You boys think that you can wear cheap ass suits...daterape sunglasses…fuckin lose matches and scrape by with bitch wins, and then talk like you haven’t been black holes to ratings...talk to US like you’re on our level IN ANY SHAPE OR FORM...Boys, you ain’t nothing but strip mall POSERS. A couple of cul-de-sac TOUGH GUYS that wanna try and talk their gated community bullshit to the street kids. I got news for you both, the gloves are coming off, and underneath it, you’re gonna find JAGGED FUCKIN KNUCKLES...YOU will find BARBED FUCKIN WIRE in these hands, and you will FEEL it...you will feel ALL of it. It’s Victory or VALHALLA...and at the end of this match? Those people in the audience are going to be left with their mouths WIDE THE FUCK OPEN... because we are NOT going to be the funny little fun boys everyone has come to love, nah...they’re gonna witness a fuckin BLOOD EAGLE at OUR HANDS...we are EXACTLY what our name is. We are GRIME. And we get dirty when we need to get dirty. Now...I know I’m coming off a little...gruff, and I’m sorry if this is all a bit jarring, but as I’ve said, fuckos...I’m fuckin SICK of this shit. New fuckin tag team comes in, wants to make a name off us… won’t leave us be… FUCK Eon Blue. FUCK Noah Quinn. You two are WELCOME...YOU’RE WELCOME that we’re so FUCKIN charismatic, we make you look interesting just by association...You’re WELCOME for us being perfect fuckin foils to your shitty asses...YOU ARE WELCOME for the constant opportunities you don’t deserve because WE keep making our matches together UNFUCKINFORGETTABLE...JUST BY BEING US. And after this fuckin Meltdown? You’re welcome...in ADVANCE...for leaving you fucks with enough energy to wave goodbye to the four people who give a fuck, Cos Imma make DAMN sure you fuckers go down and STAY down. I don’t wanna hear NO MORE about Chaos Elite...Noah Quinn...or Eon Blue...not unless you wanna see GRiME go on a murdering spree. This Atlantis? On TOP of becoming the new tag team champions? We gonna pile the bodies to the FUCKIN sky...and you two will be the foundation on which we fuckin build a MONUMENT to TAG TEAM WRESTLING...and that will be the closest you jerkoffs GET to being a relevant fuckin team.

TYLER BRIDGES

So, that leaves the ugly girl in this party. This leaves the last debutantes, Nobi and Teddy Mac...The Nice Guys...bro, you know their music?

TJ BURNS

I know it.

TYLER BRIDGES

The TAG TEAM CHAMPIONS...come out to fuckin SPONGEBOB. BUT WE exude the “childish energy”, right Teddy? Just a couple of stoners at the core, don’t take nothin’ serious...ehhhh a loss, whatever as long as we got weed, right? Right? After all this time?

Tyler leans in, his eyes intense.

TYLER BRIDGES

Fuckin’ WRONG. Fucking. WRONG. WE…are fuckin SAVAGES, my man. We smoke weed...not because it’s fun...but because it keeps us from becoming the VIOLENT DOGS WE REALLY ARE. I see you two...eating what was that? Hot dogs? HEYYYY, some hot dogs...some fuckin chips...maybe some SODA, Nobi? Teehee...Does MOM know? THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU? You FUCKING children...what is this, a fuckin JOKE? See...my problem right now is? I’ve been waiting...for SO long to face you two...SO long...and there is SO much I want to say...a-and I don’t know where to start… you two...I wanna say, “hey, well...I respect em.” I WANNA say that. But I fuckin can’t...you know what I mean? I can’t say I RESPECT YOU TWO...because there is NOTHING FOR US TO RESPECT. Yeah, you two are good...obviously...but that don’t deserve my respect anymore...it’s about time YOU start giving US the respect WE deserve and start understanding we are the fucking BEST. TAG. TEAM. IN THE WORLD. We ain’t just GOOD, you feel me? We’re the BEST...Now, like you we did shit right...we shook our hands, we ate our hot dogs, and we took our smiles and ran with em for YEARS...we PAID our DUES in FULL, and WITH INTEREST. We WORKED, and we FOUGHT to get a chance to be seen, and we have FOUGHT since DAY. FUCKING. ONE. We GRIND, and we WORK, and we BLEED, and we INNOVATE...on a NIGHTLY BASIS. And yet... through all of that...we’ve had to sit back there, and be told… “The best tag team in the WORLD...is a shitty movie star and a pudgy rad dad...who enter to a fuckin Spongebob song because hey...it makes A kid laugh.”

Tyler shakes his head and chuckles, unzipping his hoodie.

TYLER BRIDGES

I can’t even...BEGIN...to tell you how fuckin infuriating that is. When we put in this work...dedicate ourselves to becoming the best tag team in the world...the biggest match of our lives...and you boys hit us with...Hot dogs.

Tyler scoffs and pulls off his sweater. His tattooed physique has become noticeably stronger.

TYLER BRIDGES

Notice...how I said LIVES...not career...not here in OWA...of our LIVES. For TWENTY TWO YEARS...We have been living on STOLEN TIME. For TWENTY TWO YEARS...WE HAVE BEEN PREPARING FOR THIS FIGHT. I HAVE BEEN DOWN SO FAR...I had NO way of getting myself out...and yet HERE I AM. And THIS ONE MATCH. THIS ONE DAY, JULY 17TH...will make it ALL WORTH IT. Because Teej and I are walking INTO that motherfucker...with chips on our FUCKIN shoulders BIGGER than any fuckin muscle you fucks got...and we are walking OUT...the NEW...OWA WORLD TAG TEAM CHAMPIONS…

Tyler leans in and points into the camera.

TYLER BRIDGES

You two? Took advantage of a dead division. YOU TWO...for as good as you are, are FUCKING NOTHING compared to us when it comes to that ring, and YOU TWO have been DUCKING us since fuckin Final Destination because we proved it...we had you SHOOK, we had you SCARED...and a STUPID mistake gave you the win. A STUPID…mistake.

Tyler chuckles and shakes his head.

TYLER BRIDGES

...a lot has changed since then...a LOT. And the way I see it, you two haven’t fuckin noticed. Good. GOOD. Keep it that way. Keep expecting Cheech and Chong...keep expecting Harold and Kumar...keep EXPECTING How High…Cos while you two are watching buddy comedies and eating junk food to prepare, WE will be HUSTLING, GRINDING, WORKING. We will be BIGGER, STRONGER, FASTER, MORE PRECISE...we will be CEMENTING our reputation as THE BEST TAG TEAM THIS COMPANY HAS EVER SEEN. Forget Dollhouse, forget Ground Zero, hell even forget Wolvesden...this fuckin Friday...we prove that what we say ain’t bullshit. Keep pretending you two train harder than us...keep PRETENDING that you’re not SHIT scared of what we’re capable of. Lucha rules, old school rules, no rules…Fuckin doesn’t matter. THIS FRIDAY. We go to WAR.... This FRIDAY, in MEXICO FUCKIN CITY...among mis amigos psicópatas...you motherfuckers are gonna see that we ain’t playing around...you’re gonna look around and see NOTHING but HOSTILE TERRITORY...We WANT what you HAVE...and we will DIE for it. Can YOU say the same thing?

TJ steps forward and swipes his hair back. He curls his lip in a sneer before he speaks.

TJ BURNS

This Friday...is our REDEMPTION. Our fuckin PENANCE. We owe it to OURSELVES to give everything, we owe it to every FAN that bought a shirts, but,..There is a man lying in a fuckin vegetative state...5,000 miles away...who gave us his BLOOD, his SWEAT, his TEARS...who GUIDED US...who RAISED US...who SAVED US...and that is the SAME FUCKIN MAN THAT BUILT THOSE VERY FUCKIN TITLES. This is MORE than just “we want gold”... we want to do right by the man that did right by us. We want to FINALLY give our mentor something to be proud of...and I will be damned...be DAMNED...if anybody BUT US walks out of that fuckin building with those tag title belts. You will hit us with EVERYTHING you have, and we will stand RIGHT. BACK. UP. STARE YOU FUCKERS IN THE EYES, and SLAP THE SHIT out of you.

TYLER BRIDGES

To anybody watching this, if you have never seen OWA...if you have never seen a SECOND of PROFESSIONAL WRESTLING...this Friday is the day to start. A Battle Royal, the Joshi Ace, and in the main event...you will see three separate groups walk into a Tag Title match…

TJ BURNS

But only ONE TEAM will leave as Champions...and you can bet your bottom fuckin dollar...it’s gonna be us.

TYLER BRIDGES

Smoke Weed and Bleed.

TJ BURNS

See you Friday.

TJ leans down and grabs his hat as Tyler starts walking away. TJ pops his hat on and smirks before flipping a final finger at the camera..

.

Re: OWA Promos July 14th 2020, 2:24 pm by **Holden Tudics**

Boiling Point III Promo 3: Redaction.

(The camera opens on Derelict standing at the lip of an alleyway at night. The overhead street light shines down on him, illuminating half of his face as he props up and takes in the night sky in blissful silence.)

"You seem to be misconstruing some things about me. Don't worry, it's a common sin that every opponent of mine commits. I don't care what past their prime Hall of Famer you've beaten before they crawled into the career graveyard. I haven't forgotten that you've beaten me, and never have claimed otherwise. I don't make excuses for my loss or praise something as trivial as in-ring technique either. You're a big man, Bull. Don't act like you aren't. Quit pretending that it's some master technician who keeps retaliating to my attacks on you. Rest holds don't put hobos through tables. What we have is carnal and visceral. You can pat yourself on the back about being good at holds all you want, but the tangibles of your dominance on top of the mountain are in your physique and the physicality it can both absorb and dish out. If you were in a street fight I wouldn't care who you were against, I'd put the money on you because you're not the pipsqueak grapple monkey that you make yourself out to be. You're stout, husky, and bulging with what could be ugly muscle. You're not some pique athlete who hits the gym and does his drills. You're a scrapper like me and you've made it thus far because of it."

(Derelict turns and begins walking back into the darkness of the alley)

"That's really where the comparisons end. I haven't made any others, other than complimentary ones. You aren't me, Bull. In fact, I'd sooner call you my antithesis than I would call you my equal. You've got it all, and yet you constantly live in the shadows of others and use their stretched silhouettes as some sort of measuring stick for your career. Don't get me wrong, there isn't a name on that list that you mentioned that wasn't tough, barring Gareth maybe, but they weren't tough enough to stick around and take their title back from you now were they? I'm here though, asking for seconds, and hoping you'll give me a fight. I'd be lying if I were to say that so far you haven't, which leads me to another misconception: I never said you were scared. If anything, I've pointed out your brazen acts of courage heading into this fight. I hate to beat people over the head with it, but you're a man named Bull and you signed the paperwork for our match in a steakhouse. That's some grade a symbolism coming from a man whose not intending to back down. To that I say good. I want a fight Bull. I've been screaming it for weeks now. I reveled at the chance to get in the ring with you the first time and you left me satisfied in defeat. There's another fallacy on your part; there was never a time that I didn't believe in you as a strong and formidable champion. I rooted for you in every battle because I only back winners. I cheered you on in every title defense, I sung your praises when you put Tarah away, and I catcalled from the stands when you decimated Nobi. That's why I had to make my entrance and toss my name back into the hat. I don't give a damn about your title, I want the man I see promise in. I want you, Bull. Do you know why? because I know you wont go away like the rest when I finally beat you. I know you're just as capable as me to come back and bring the fight a second time. True champions don't need gold to show they're champions, and with or without that belt around your thick boy waist, you'll be a champion...so long as you stay in the fight, that is. You say you've evolved since our last meeting? I say perfect, so long as your evolution isn't devolution in my eyes we'll be fine. Considering the way you're talking about 'expert technique' and 'respect thy elders', I'm beginning to believe I'm going into the ring with another vanilla midget. That's not good for you if that's the case Bull, because I live off of a steady diet of vanilla midgets. I've been devouring grapple monkeys since I got into this industry, and if you present yourself as a giant fat smorgasbord of 'best in the world' vibes, then I'm going to shut you down and swallow you whole like the rest."

(Derelict turns and paces impatiently back into the light, and then bobs back into the darkness like a caged lion waiting for the chance to spring itself from the zoo.)

"Speaking of which, you're on a short list of people who have beaten me one on one. Don't act like I'm some washed up has-been or never-was. The only times I've ever failed were when there were four or more opponents aiming at my head all at once. Don't paint me with the same brush as failures like Maggall or Monolith. I'm not banking off mystique here. I wont lie and say I haven't fucked with a few of my opponents in the past, but so far I've been above board with you. You seem fearful of me doing so though, so in a way you may have fucked yourself. You said it yourself: I'm a cockroach. I don't die. I don't stay down. Stomp me into oblivion and somehow this hard shell of mine will piece itself back together. Cut my head off and it'll grow another body. While we're on the topic of decapitation, there hasn't been a single wound I've suffered in OWA that I haven't shown on camera in followup interviews. I'm pretty sure more of my blood is on film than what's left in my body. If you could wring celluloid and have the blood pictured within come dripping out, I'd keep most blood banks in stock. I'm not afraid to show pain, weakness, or exposed sinew. I've went weeks with tampons shoved up my nose from multiple breaks. I've raided soup kitchens for frozen peas for my groin. Hell, gas station bathrooms have been quarantined and condemned from me cleaning up after a match. I've shown my sacrifice, I've had camera lenses zoom in on targets for future opponents, and still I walk away victorious nine times out of ten. That's the difference between me and the blowhard boogie men and braggadocios body builders of this companies past. I never hid weakness behind the veil of false bravado or mystery and I've outlived them all."

(Derelict starts shadow boxing the brick wall of the alleyway. Soon, shadow boxing turns into full contact bone-to-brick sparring.)

"Let's drop the candor of politics and pretense. Let's forget for five seconds that I'm a homeless man who survives, or should I put it your way? 'leaches' off of society's underbelly. I don't give a shit who you're voting for or what's in your trash can right now. I'm not here to steal from you and play out some perverted Robin Hood role in a fractured fairy tale. I'm not here to send a message that the starving lower class is going to take it to the fat cats at the top of the world. This isn't 'A Derelict thing'. I have no ill-will, no message, no twisted wisdom to impart on you in hopes that you'll turn your life around and fight up from the gutters like a real man. You've already done that, Bull. You've already pulled yourself out of obscurity and made yourself a somebody. You earned every ounce of leather and metal, every accolade that's ever been thrown at you, and you've done it by being the top specimen for the job. The only thing I'm here to prove is that I'm physically, mentally, and emotionally stronger than you. I'm going to call the shots. I'm going to take your crown, and I'm going to place myself at the top of the food chain where I already reside as uncrowned king of the jungle. That's the true title on the line here: whose the toughest? whose the strongest? whose the biggest? whose the best? This isn't rich vs poor, Marx vs Weber, or monster vs wrestler: this is man vs man. As far as I'm concerned you and I are the only two left. Everyone else is just playing catch up at the back of the pack. I want what you wanted from all the past holders of your title. I want to prove I'm better than you, but I want it on an entirely different level than you seem to appreciate."

(Blood starts splatting with every connection of knuckle to clay. Derelict stops sparring and looks at his gnarled hands as he walks back into the darkness.)

"I hope you do keep fighting Bull. I hope you keep fighting until your veins ache and pucker, until your glands close up shop, and your tear ducts burn, and there isn't a hint of moister left in your body. That's what it's going to take. That's the sacrifice you'll have to make to your God to beat me because I'm bringing the exact same desperation to the alter. This shouldn't end until one or both of us collapse from shock. You act as if because I'm a 'big man' that I wont bring the fight. While true that I've tamped my enthusiasm in past fights that didn't deserve me blowing an unnecessary amount of energy just to entertain the fans while I thoughtlessly and effortlessly mauled an opponent, I've always given true battles my maximum effort. You were no different. You seem to think just because you beat me that I didn't give you my all because you have this chip on your shoulder over people taking you for granted, but in truth you beat me clean. I wont make excuses about old war wounds or me not giving a fuck. I did and I lost. So you're probably asking what's different now than how things were before, and the simple answer is that you and everyone else has it dead set in their mind that you're the best around here. You're the alpha, the top dog, the grand poobah, and I just can't live with being second best. Reputations are on the line, more now than ever before. Who is a man if he isn't the best? who is a fighter if he's not the most feared and highly contested? what's being number two if someone else is number one? Nothing. There's first, and then there's the rest. There's the head of the pecking order, and then the line of command deteriorates into the weak thereafter. I believe you'll bring more of a fight because you know that there can only be distant seconds. If you don't beat me when everything's on the line, then past fights mean nothing. Victories over relics of the industry on their way out the door seem less impressive, like the man said 'you're only as good as your last fight'. If they didn't win, then were they worth beating? Likewise, if you don't win did your two former championship reigns mean anything? Now there I go again, slipping into the old role of preying on insecurities to get a rise out of someone. You'll be fine. You're great. I just know it. No one will think less of you for losing to me because everyone eventually loses to me. But that would mean that you're just like the rest, right? no better, no worse. See what I mean about consolation rankings?"

(The Derelict reappears under the light of the street lamp smiling wistfully as he props himself up against the wall with a now heavily wrapped hand, dressed in his bindle hankey. The other hangs by his side with it's wounds packed with crimson stained shreds of old newspaper.)

"That's why I never cared much for peer evaluation. It only validates you when they're angry because you're on top. 'oh it shoulda been them, it coulda been them', but in truth they're not like us. See, I know you'll come back because you're just another big fat cockroach who doesn't lay down and die. I both anticipate and welcome your rematch once I strike you down, and I have no doubt that you'll come back stronger than before like you did after your last reign came to an end. Our kind's too dumb to die, call it quits, and hang up the boots. We're not worried about comfort in retirement because we both know damn well that we aren't seeing the other side of fifty. We're the last of a dying breed that's been going extinct and growing weaker with every passing century. You and I are the last one's clinging to the old ways because we know the new ways will lead to ruin. Call it barbarism, call it savagery, call it uncouth and un-PC, self-destructive, toxic masculinity. I call it being a man. Broken noses and scar tissue used to be considered charming souvenirs of bar room battles and chivalrous acts. War was something we used to do instead of something we talk about in support groups. Having a few drinks meant you were taking the edge off, not that you had a problem with coping with your emotions. When did people start caring if their father's hugged them? when did crying become something that was encouraged? when did consolation trophies start meaning you tried? They don't. Winning does. The honor of kicking mud into another guy's face used to be enough to show that you were the bigger man, but now I have to kill you and write poetry about how sorry I am for my manly actions. I wont do that for you, Bull. You deserve the quiet dignity of me not shedding a tear over another fallen warrior. I wont shake your hand and play 'sportsmanship' after. I wont give you a hollow head nod of approval. I wont even help you off the mat that I drove your head into. I'll merely scoop some blood from a puddle of your own plasma and smear it across my chest in a symbolic showing that I've taken everything you had. That'd be trophy enough for me, Bull. I don't care about your gold. I don't care who held it before you. I want the blood of the man that I gave a warrior's death as my badge of honor. Tribes used to do that as a sign of respect for their fallen rivals. That was the first championship if you think about it. Doesn't it feel like it means more? We put so much emphasis on the essence we expel trying to win some stomach jewelry and never bother to acknowledge the sacrifice of our bodily fluids as something to uphold. Well, I want your blood Bull. I want your sweat. I want your tears. I want them to reek of desperation, fear, and ultimately defeat. I want to put them in vials and hang them in bandoleers around the championship's face plate as it's final burnt offering before I take it to the grave."

(Derelict hangs his head, smiling to himself as his hand drags down the wall, leaving a streak of blood on the brick as it does so. He steps into the light fully and stares up and directly into it.)

"I want you to live on. I want your legacy to be remembered. I want your soul forever attached to this title, because otherwise it's just a worthless hunk of tin. Tarah Nova, Kenny Drake, Nas, these names you spout off like they're the pantheon of our sport, they broke off a chunk of their hearts and souls when they lost this belt. So did you the first time it was taken from you, but it's funny because I don't think you got it back when you recaptured the championship. Something's missing from you Bull. The belt took your loudmouth cocksure attitude and toned it down, didn't it? While the doubt was gone from the minds of everyone you'd already proven wrong, it took up rent in your head again didn't it? What if they're right? what if you aren't the best? what if all the training in the world wont turn you into the unbeatable? What if it all boils down to a genetic lottery? Not so deep down, you know that it does. You can add other variables to the fight, but they'll never truly overcompensate from what you lack naturally. What's sad is that you don't embrace what you already have with both hands, but instead try and be the flashy guy who does frog splashes and submission holds when you don't have to be in order to win. Tarah didn't give you the fight of your life because she's a great wrestler. She's tough. She's always been tough. The world reared her tough and cut her loose. Same goes for Aria, same goes for Kenny Drake. There is no intangible edge, just who they are and what they're willing to do to survive. You used to have that, but did the belt take it away from you? I don't know . I can't say...or at least, not yet."

(Derelict walks back into the alleyway, his head hung as he plants another bloody hand print on the wall. His voice emits from the darkness as the camera fades to black.)

"Sacrifice all and you'll have no kingdom to reign over. Sacrifice enough, and you'll never go wanting. You've shown me what you've got once before...now show me there's something left."

Christopher Sabertooth and Emmanuelle have spoken. It’s such good shit!

Re: OWA Promos July 14th 2020, 2:04 am by **Bull Connors**

Boiling Point (2020)/Promo No. 1

“Survival”

“Not many people in OWA… have been able to remain at the very top, for as long as I’ve managed to.”

“The people who have? Are people like CM Nas, Tarah Nova, Kenny Drake, Jacob Senn, Aria Jaxon, Finnegan Wakefield… these are people who’ve already established themselves as top-tier competitors in the past… before OWA was even conceived. People who were already known, already respected, and already believed to eventually achieve greatness. They are the pillars of this industry, the standard-bearers, the people who’ve fought and bled for this industry more... than some of us could ever dream of. Their shadows continue to loom over us all. We may reject the past as much as we’d like, and continue to proclaim our bold ambition to start paving a new path for the next generation of wrestlers to blossom and grow. In the end, however, we’re incapable of pretending that they don’t exist. We can’t possibly act as though… they haven’t set a difficult standard for us to follow or even surpass. We can’t convince ourselves that nothing matters other than the present, because if we do… we don’t have anything to actually compare our own achievements to. Those very accomplishments that we’re so desperate to match or exceed are inevitably doomed to become trivial, unimportant and irrelevant.”

“Jacob Senn, Tarah Nova, CM Nas…”

“They’ve set a ridiculously high standard for this championship, nobody can deny that.”

“Nevertheless, it’s a standard that I’m dangerously close to surpassing.”

“I’ve held this championship twice and for more than 280 days. Only two other people have held a single championship more than once in OWA, and only two other people have held a single championship for longer than I have. That’s an indisputable fact, and if I’m able to successfully defend at Boiling Point… I will match CM Nas’ and Jacob Senn’s record for the most successful defenses of the Omega Heavyweight Championship. I mean, isn’t that crazy to think about? To think… that some people didn’t even believe that I was going to win the God of War Medallion, or that I wasn’t even going to win this championship.”

“Nobody believed that I’d even be able to survive, let alone… thrive.”

“Back in 2018, when I competed in that Ultimate X match… nobody believed that I’d be the first one to win a world championship. Why should they? I didn’t win the OWA Spartan’s Championship, and I didn’t win the OWA Television Championship when I competed for that. I had a good showing on both occasions, sure, but it wasn’t anything to write home about. Compared to Scotty Adams, Christopher Sabretooth, Gareth Cason, Nate Cage or Isaac Thornton… I was nothing special at all.”

“There was a time… when I was just another name on the card.”

“Now? I’m one of the first names that you’re going to look for.”

“I’ve managed to outlast a vast majority of the people that I previously named for a good fucking reason. Whenever I lost an important match, I did what I needed to do, so that I could step my game up for the next opportunity that I’d receive. I didn’t complain or whine like a little bitch, whenever something happened that didn’t go my way, and I didn’t try to look for excuses when there weren’t any to be had. I keep focused, I keep working my ass off, and I keep adapting to the ever-changing landscape of OWA. That’s why I’ve managed to survive for as long as I have, and why so many of my contemporaries have faded into obscurity. They lost focus, they stopped working as hard, and they weren’t able to adapt. I’ve continued to rise up and meet every challenge that I've been faced with, and every challenge that I couldn’t overcome initially, I’d rise up and meet it again. I keep fighting until I’ve won or until I can’t possibly continue to fight. That’s why I’ve defeated Gareth, why I’ve defeated Jeff, why I’ve defeated Tarah, why I’ve defeated Nas, Nobi and Teddy…”

“It’s also why I’ve managed to defeat you… Derelict.”

“People don’t seem to remember that, do they? That we’ve already been in the same ring together, and that you… weren’t able to beat me. When you were a fairly recent acquisition, destroying everybody that stood in your path on Olympus. Naturally, because people can be so incredibly gullible, they began to start blowing smoke up your ass and convincing themselves that you’d be an “unstoppable monster” who wouldn’t lose a match to anybody. Apparently, they didn’t seem to remember that “unstoppable monsters” like Monolith or Maggall (or was it Broseph King?) had incredible amounts of initial success, only to quickly fade into obscurity and irrelevancy because they weren’t as “unstoppable” as everybody thought. You bragged and boasted about your physical advantages, just like Monolith… just like Maggall.. only to discover that my ability as a professional wrestler doesn’t give a fuck about your “physical advantages” over me. Size and strength are amazing things to have at your disposal, especially when you’re fighting somebody who isn’t skilled enough to overcome them or somebody that’s lacking in size and strength, but against me? Well, I’m afraid that… they’re not going to be very helpful.”

“Frankly, I’m surprised that you’ve managed to survive in this company for as long as you have, because most guys that are like you… don’t have a tendency to stick around after their “aura of invincibility” starts to wear off, but I guess that’s what separates you from the rest. You’ve been able to keep recovering from every single loss that you’ve had, only to come back and start winning matches again. Like a giant fucking cockroach, whenever somebody thinks that you’re finally gone… you show up again. That’s a rather fitting comparison, isn’t it? Not because you’re a homeless man or anything like that, but because you’re precisely what a cockroach is widely considered to be: vermin.”

“A parasite. A creature that feeds and thrives in this country’s disgusting underbelly. At least, on the outside, that’s what you appear to be. Then again, is it possible that you’re simply an unfortunate victim of this country’s inability to help the poor? Who doesn’t have any choice in the matter and must do everything in his power to try and survive? Or are you purposefully taking advantage of the situation that you’re currently in and using it as an excuse to be an asshole to everybody that you meet? So that you can ruin other people’s lives as much as you’d like to, under the guise of survival and self-preservation? Now, I don’t know the answer to this question exactly, probably because I’m not a psychologist, but I’m going to take an educated guess and say that… the second option is probably more accurate. Although, I do encourage you to try and correct me, and yes, I’m aware that you’ve never pretended or claimed to be a good person. Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if you actually took pride in your ability to bully and intimidate anybody that gets in your way. Why shouldn’t you? After all, you’re able to push everybody around, without a care in the world. Nobody’s ever going to willingly fuck with you, unless they’ve got a gun or a knife, you know… something to try and even the odds. So why should you “feel bad” for actually taking advantage of it? I can’t blame you, plenty of people would as well, and at one point… that would’ve probably included me too. I can’t deny that. I can’t deny that at a certain point in my life, you and me… were a lot more similar to each other… than I’d ever be comfortable with admitting to myself.”

“However, that’s entirely in the past.”

“As much as you’d like to keep discussing our similarities, I’ve changed as a person since our last meeting inside of a ring.”

“Losing this championship, and realizing that I was willing to sink to the lowest possible depths that I could go… purely to have it around my waist again… it completely consumed my mind.”

“It’s forced me to re-evaluate myself as a person, my motivations for competing, my goals, and my aspirations…”

“Everything.”

“I didn’t win this championship for the privileges that came with it. I’m not interested in keeping this championship for the money, the respect, or the prestige. I hold this championship as nothing more than a symbol of my status, as undeniable proof… that I’m among the best wrestlers in the fucking world.”

“I’ve defeated first-ballot OWA Hall of Famers, multiple opponents at once, and a man that I didn’t even think that I’d ever be able to beat.”

“So, after all of that, for you to think that I’m actually “scared” of you, is absolutely adorable to me.”

“Don’t get me wrong, I don’t mean to imply that I don’t consider you to be a serious threat or anything like that, but… I’m not scared of you. Am I afraid that I’m inevitably going to lose this championship? Sure, but it’s not as crippling or debilitating as you like to make it sound, because it’s an inevitability. My first reign didn’t last forever, neither will this one. As unpleasant of a possibility as it may be to acknowledge, there’s no point in trying to delude myself. There’s nothing to gain by being ignorant and thinking that I’ll never lose this championship to anybody.”

“It’s an impossible dream.”

“All of life is nothing but peaks and valleys, the highs and lows… that come and go.”

“That said, you’re not going to be the one to take my fucking championship.”

“You’re not a big, scary monster that’s hiding in my closet or some shit. You’re just an asshole. Actually, I take back what I said, you’re a very large… asshole. You keep trying to flatter yourself by pretending that I’m legitimately scared of you, when the only thing that’s actually accomplishing is making you look very desperate. I mean, you can pretend that I’m scared as much as you’d like, in the end… it doesn’t change anything that I already know. Compared to many other people, you’ve had an easy time in OWA. You’ve been able to easily dominate your opposition, win championships, and consistently remain as a title contender… entirely because of your own size and strength.”

“As a result, there’s plenty of people who are more talented and capable than you are, but because they’re at such a size and strength disadvantage… they can’t survive. As for me, I’ve already proven that I’m able to survive and overcome any advantage that you’ve got, and in an environment like this? Where I’m able to do whatever I want, and use any weapon that I can get my hands on? You’re fucked. Remember when I said that I was going to pay you back for every single time that you attacked me? Yeah, I’m planning to deliver on that promise, motherfucker. You made a fucking mistake by coming after me, and constantly sticking your nose into my business. You’ve been desperate for a fight, and staring at my throne with envy in your eyes. You want my crown? My throne? My kingdom? Then prepare for nothing less than fucking war, because I’m determined to keep fighting until I’m down to the last man. I don’t plan to surrender, and I don’t plan to retreat. I haven’t endured, persevered, and survived for as long as I have… only to eventually lose to a man that I’ve already beaten. It’s not going to happen.”

“I will do everything in my power to avoid that.”

“So help me God, I’m going to keep fighting until I have no more blood… no more sweat… and no more tears to give.”

“So help me God…”

“I’m going to keep on fighting.”

Re: OWA Promos July 14th 2020, 1:09 am by **Stark**

That sleeping beast has finally woken up.

Good.

Ever since I returned from the dead, the landscape of OWA has looked bleak. The afterlife is its own kind of fun, but nothing quite compares to the realm below. Where men live, where men fight, where men die. I always asked myself, what did I come back for? Justice? Vengeance? Glory? I don’t know, to be honest. I know how I came back, but I don’t know why, and those are the answers I need to find, answers that I will discover through what I do best, competing in this ring. But what’s sad is that… no such sense of fulfillment has hit me yet. It’s been years since I’ve felt the thrill of a good fight, last since my battles with Jacob Senn, but here I am now. I can play it safe at one or turn it up to ten and the result is the same. Win or lose, I always leave the ring with a feeling of emptiness. What died with me? What did I come back to this world with? Motivation? Is that what I can call it? No. It feels like more. A calling. Something I was chosen for.

These kids on Olympus just aren’t cutting it. Someone has to step in and make things right. Someone has to lead the way, set the stage. What decides who that person is? Is it whoever stands above the rest as the World Champion? Is it whoever wins the most matches within a given year? Is it someone who can beat certain names, names said to be untouchable? The truth is, I don’t know. I don’t know what it takes to be the top guy, I don’t know what it feels like to stand above the rest. It’s been so long since I have, that it’s not just a distant memory at this point, it feels like a fever dream. World Championships? Can I even dare to dream of something like that? I’ll have to wait to see. Because before all of that, there’s the more pertinent prize we’re fighting for. The OWA Television Championship.

Now you’re right Finn. Maybe I haven’t made the best of this title. Maybe I haven’t been the best champion I could be, and that’s bad coming from me after all that talk I was doing about making this the premiere belt on Olympus again. Can I say it’s the premier belt when I’ve spent the last three weeks dealing with a no-name like Chaz O’Connors? Nah. I might be a lot of things, but lying straight to someone’s face, that’s beyond me. I can’t do it. I couldn’t even get the match out of Keelan that I wanted, and that’s what pisses me off. It’s supposed to be prime time for guys like me and you, me and Keelan, but these dumb kids won’t stop getting in the way. Even then, forget all of that. The past is the past, can’t change it. What we can change, however, are the necessary elements in the present, to secure success in the future. For me, that’s letting it all go. Once and for all, finally, with nothing left, I must put an end to the man I used to be.

I can’t just sit back and let these simp matches define me. Nathan Fiora can’t go down as my greatest rival. Nor can the story of my twelve year long career boil down to just comedy and making a fool out of myself. I’ve had my fun. But I’ve seen the other side, and within the void I found my answer. Things need to change. No more jokes, no more games, just like the sleeping beast within you has woken up Finn, so has the demon inside of me. I know that you know what I’m capable of at my best, Finn. I know what form of Stark you’re awaiting at Boiling Point, and trust me, I WILL deliver. A fight is what you want, but a war is what I’ll give you. I’m not letting this title go easily, and especially not against someone like you. Let’s be real with each other Finn, because I think you completely misunderstand me when I say things like “I respect you.”

I respect your ability. I respect your motivation. I respect your discipline. But at the end of the day, we need to accept the facts. All that shit is manufactured. Constructed carefully, piece by piece in some wrestling academy out in the UK. Catchpoint Finnegan isn’t what I want. Yes, you reigned for nearly three hundred days as the Omega World Champion. But let’s be honest - the competition wasn’t cutting it, not for you. That’s why Catchpoint Finnegan is who you’ve become. The by-the-numbers, straight from the textbook submission machine. Since your return, I ain’t seen that same passion in you, with the exception of just one night - Final Destination 2, your war against Keelan Callihan… and you lost. You. Lost. "Catchpoint" Finnegan is all you know. Yes! You can defeat Bull Connors! The World Champion! Because at the end of the day, he’s just a dumb kid in over his head, but Keelan? Keelan is your worst nightmare. Keelan knows you halfway better than you know yourself, and he hits you where it hurts every time, and you don’t know how to fight back because the Finnegan Wakefield who used to rule the world has faded out, and all that’s left is the academy kid who stands up straight with his hands behind his back. All that’s left is the kid who might be able to run circles around anyone in the ring, yes, even the World Champion! But not Keelan. And I keep bringing up Keelan, Finn, because while this is a title match, while this is for a belt, while it should be nothing but pure in-ring competition… we already know that’s not how it’s going to go.

I’m not going to give this title up just because you’re the better man one night. A pinfall, a tap-out, that won’t mean shit to me. You know it too, Finn. What I want, is a battle. Maybe that’s putting it lightly. For this OWA Television Championship, I’m ready to go to war. No games, no jokes, no Nathan Fiora shenanigans, no! I want to fight in that ring until my legs can’t move and my arms are dead at my side. I want to feel the blood pouring down my face and I want to feel my last breath fighting for survival within my body. I don’t want Catchpoint Wakefield, who I can fucking outwrestle in seconds, because let’s be real Finn. Whatever they taught you in that academy, whatever tools they give you to just casually pull up to an Olympus event and take out the World Champion like it’s nothing… that shit still doesn’t compare to real grit, to real experience. This is twelve years of blood and sweat you’re looking at. A name that demands as much respect as that of those in your echelon, the circle of World Champions. Stark isn’t someone you should take lightly, as children like Nathan Fiora have come to learn. But it’s under the veneer of a game, of nonsense… That’s why I need to prove it against someone like you, Finn. You are that golden boy! You are THE establishment! The safe choice, the nice choice, the choice that the critics want to see, the choice that parents want their children to look up to… Fuck all of that. That doesn’t matter to me, and I know it doesn’t matter to you… or well maybe it didn’t use to. But what do I know? I’m just a dead man walking.

Bring Catchpoint Wakefield to Boiling Point and you’ll be done in seconds flat. If you don’t want to waste my time and your own, Finn, bring the intensity. Summon that beast from within you. I’ve seen it, the world has seen it. Don’t just show me the Finnegan Wakefield that can out wrestle Stark… show me the Finnegan Wakefield that can lay waste to this entire roster. Show me the Finn that you yourself fear, that you’ve been hiding away this whole time. I don’t want your best… I want your worst. I want the monster that had to be killed by Keelan Callihan to settle your match. I want the monster that stood atop Kingdom as the Omega World Champion for 300 days. Is he still there, Finnegan? Anything less than him… is certain victory for me.

Re: OWA Promos July 13th 2020, 11:41 pm by **DampshawIIIఒ**

I’m The Obeah Man | Boiling Point, Pt. I

We are taken back in time to this April where a camera crew was told about a strange ritual happening in the woods. They were originally not able to make out the figures in the distance as the low, rumbling chanting continues.

"OBEAH. OBEAH. OBEAH. OBEAH."

The chanting quiets down as a single voice is heard.

???: You've let us down again, Reginald. You claimed that you were going to hold onto the Spartan Championship forever, isn't that right? Well once again, your words rang hollow. Once again you showed that you were weak. Once again showing that you don't deserve to inhabit the vessel that you do. And for that, you will be subjugated to The Nine Lashes. Do you understand?

Reginald Dampshaw III: I do….

???: Very well. Then we shall begin.....

This is where the video originally cut off as Demis Polymeros caught wind of the men recording in the bushes. He goes to run after them and the original video feed ends. But one man runs away and secretly records on his phone. Demis grabs the camera and smashes it over one man’s head. He grabs the other by the neck and tosses him down hill.

???: Demis! That’s enough! Come over here!

Demis acquieces and instantly walks back over to the shadowy figure. It's hard to make out anything but after a few moments the sound of a whip cracking is heard. Then another. Then another. The camera man notices a rock in the distance that he can hide behind to get a better shot and he quickly moves towards it. Once he does and focuses the phone back onto the clearing, we can see that Demis is standing over Reginald Dampshaw III on his knees on the ground and no one else.

Camerman: Is..is he whipping himself?

Reginald picks up the whip once more and swings it around to have it slice through his skin. Once more as his hands begin to quiver in pain.

Reginald Dampshaw III: This is for your own good, Reginald. We're tired of you embarrassing us, Reginald.

Reginald whips himself again.

Reginald Dampshaw III: I am sorry.

Three times in succession the whip cuts into Reginald's back. He drops the whip and falls to his stomach. Demis kneels down.

Demis Polymeros: Reginald…

Reginald Dampshaw III: No...I need...one more lash….I can't….Demis….you must do it….

Demis Polymeros: φίλος μου I cannot.

Reginald Dampshaw III: DO IT!

Demis sighs and reluctantly picks up the whip. He looks down at Reginald who has slowly gotten back to his knees. Demis takes a deep breath, arches his arm up and whips forward.

*CRACK*

The sound of the crack cuts the feed and cuts to the present day where Reginald is sitting in a chair. A television is next to him with a video of what we just witnessed playing in a loop. He watches it a few times before shutting it off.

Reginald Dampshaw III: Demis and I were able to track down the man who filmed that. We paid him a handsome sum for the footage. You may think that was a secret "ritual" that is only privy to a select few, but I wanted everyone to see. I wanted everyone to understand what I am willing to put myself through. Because I think people in OWA have forgotten who Reginald Dampshaw III really is. Over the past few weeks, I've settled into my role as Shogun Reginald very well. I've put on great shows and shown how professional I can be when given the reigns, it seems like people have assumed that I have just become a corporate yes man and have forgotten the things I have done. They seem to have just ignored the fact that I’ve taken lesser men to places where they’ve never returned.

Reginald reaches over to his library and grabs a book. It is William Shakespeare’s King Lear.

Reginald Dampshaw: “Five fiends have been in poor Tom at once: of lust, as Obidicut; Hobbididence, prince of dumbness; Mahu, of stealing; Modo, of murder; Flibbertigibbet, of mopping and mowing, who since possesses chambermaids and waiting-women. So bless thee, master” Does anyone understand? The man you see every week on Kingdom isn’t the only Reginald Dampshaw III. The dangerous, violent sociopath as I’ve been so poetically dubbed is not the only Reginald Dampshaw III. There are so many different versions inside of me that I let out in a match. I am so much more than this physical form that sits before you. I’ve said it time and time again. No one can be aware of the power inside of me. It’s only now that I’ve been afforded the opportunity that I originally came here for. And why shouldn’t I be here? Why shouldn’t I be fighting for the OWA World Championship? Last Kingdom, Jon McAdams had the temertity to ask why I put myself in the match. But when I asked him if he thinks I don’t deserve to be here, he agreed that I do.

Reginald looks at his nails and cleans them off on his suit, smirking.

Reginald Dampshaw III: It took me a while to come to realize it, but I needed to lose the Spartan Championship. I needed the lesson of the win, the reign, and then the loss. I needed to realize that the Spartan Championship wasn’t the ticket to salvation that I thought it was, but merely a stepping stone. A ladder up to the heavens, if you will. That salvation is the OWA World Championship. That’s the reason I came here. And now here I am, on the threshold of a brutal match, locked inside of a structure called the Steel Asylum.

Reginald’s eye twitches and he takes a deep breath out.

Reginald Dampshaw III: I find the name of this match….disturbing to say the least. Disturbing because I don’t believe that any of the other competitors truly know what it’s like to be in a real asylum.

Reginald grips the arm of his chair and has a scared, blank expression on his face before he shoots up to his feet.

Reginald Dampshaw III: Mongoose? Aria? Bishop? Havoc? Jeff? Do you? Do any of you know the feeling of being taken away from your home, against your will, without your consent? Do any of you know the feeling of being stripped naked of your clothes and your dignity, thrown into a room where the door is locked for almost 24 hours a day, without windows...Do you? Well? Do you?!?

Reginald stares wide-eyed at the camera before calming down.

Reginald Dampshaw III: I didn’t think so. We make up the 6 greatest competitors in OWA. Maybe ever. But we all couldn't be any different. A street tough woman, a beer swilling badass, an MMA veteran, the dark ghost of one man's past, an anime villain….and me. Some of them, like Jeff and Moongoose I've beaten. Others like Aria and Havoc, have beaten me. And Bishop I've never wrestled. Well, gentlemen and lady, may I use a cliche and say while it's obvious that we're all going to leave Boiling Point with physical scars, that's what we've signed up and trained for, but that's going to be nothing like the mental and emotional scars I'm going to inflict onto you all. I know. I can see you all rolling your eyes. But I no longer need to impress anyone. I no longer need to come up with stupid little catchphrases to appease the marketing machine. Regardless of how obvious or corny you may think my words are, they are the truth. I speak no word of lies.

Reginald turns towards his chair and sits back down.

Reginald Dampshaw III: I want to say one last thing to our exalted World Champion. Moongoose McQueen, I've made it very clear that I've never taken you seriously. Ever since we first met years ago, you've always come off as a clown to me. A sideshow act who'd rather crack jokes and make a mockery of this business we all put our bodies on the line for. And maybe I've should have realized the error of my ways when you beat me at Divine Retribution. Maybe then I should have taken note of your evolution. But I was naive amd ignorant. And then I saw you attacking Kenny Drake's very family and after Final Destination 3 I thought, "Now THAT is a real champion!" So that's why it is kind of a shame that after I leave the Steel Asylum, you're no longer going to be holding the championship. A very disappointing reign.

Reginald relaxes a bit in his chair and closes his eyes. He opens them back up, looks skyward and smiles.

Reginald Dampshaw III: Again, I can't help shake the feeling that my opponents have gotten used to the buttoned up, business-man visage that I've portrayed in the last month. But Aria, Jeff, Havoc, Bishop, Moongoose….remember this...I am a nightmare. I’m the tiger in the rain, tearing you out of your car. Ripping you to bits on the bloody highway.

Reginald leans forward in the chair, staring directly down the barrel of the camera.

Reginald Dampshaw III: I am one holy fucking terror.

Reginald stands back up, turning towards the television and turns it back on where it continues to loop back in the field where Reginald was whipping himself, he is kneeling with blood rolling down his back, though this time, he is laughing over and over until the television suddenly shuts off.

Scott Oasis has spoken. It’s such good shit!

A Nice Guys Production! July 13th 2020, 7:51 pm by **Scott Oasis**

(Our scene begins as The Nice Guys are backstage at an OWA House Show, doing a post-event autograph signing with a mile long line of fans. They’re frantically signing photos of themselves, from the night they first bumped fists, to their tag title win at Atlantis, to their Final Destination event. They practically go through their whole trajectory as a team as they mow through their duties as quickly as possible. With the last picture signed - a match card promoting their Meltdown bout - the two let out a sigh of relief and begin to get up. The two give one last wave to the audience as they go over to catering and get some food for themselves, ordering hot dogs and soda.)

Nobi: Man, after a long night like we had, this sure is good. I’m going to need one, two…..about four or five more of these.

Teddy Mac: I agree. All of those hours of match prep, an hour in the ring, two hours of signings….with the amount of work we put in non stop this tastes like the best hot dog I've ever eaten!

Nobi: Definitely! We earned this for sure. Eat up Ted, we gotta keep our strength to retain those tag titles!

Teddy Mac: Yup. Meltdown is going to be no joke. Our first ever main event defense, a triple threat LIVE in Mexico, and with LUCHA RULES? This is going to be our biggest match to date. In all honesty, I was a bit shaken at first when this was announced. I certainly thought that Iron Man match was going to have a definitive winner. My money was on GRiME in fact. But here we are with a draw, and Chaos Elite gets thrown into the mix. Kudos to them I guess, I suppose I can’t be shocked that such a sudden team moved up the way they did given how we’ve succeeded. But still, I’m torn here. Maybe I’m just taken aback because I didn’t want some cocky dudes like them as our defense. What are your thoughts on the matter of Chaos Elite’s come up?

Nobi: Noah Quinn and Eon Blue? As a team they're great. They were enemies at first but they worked things up and they definitely have the chemistry as partners and friends. Let’s look at them individually: Eon Blue is a big deal in Japan and won a lot of accolades there. Noah Quinn is impressive too with the way he wrestles. The guy’s got one hell of a smash mouth style. He’s constantly improving too. Noah was the guy that brought the first score in that Tag Team 30 Minute Ironman match. This isn't a knock-off on Eon Blue too of course. I mean no offense, Teddy, but he beat you once.

Teddy Mac: Well, that's a fact.

Nobi: And also, both Noah and Eon pinned GRiME to get double points on the scoreboard. Isn't that impressive? There is no doubt about it, they are a threat in this match. They are a team that is hungry. They are a team that want to win. But you know who has that exact same mentality tenfold? Us. WE are hungry. WE want to win more than anything. Any wrestling pundit who has watched our matches will say that The Nice Guys have been fighting champions, some of the most hard working champs this division has seen, even. We’re ready to WORK just like the Chaos Elite and we're intending to retain these titles. They’ve got a lot going for them and they’ve hit the ground running, yeah. Check us out though. We won the Tag Team Championship in our debut match and we retained against 3 other teams…..and one of them was GRiME.

Teddy Mac: The same team that Chaos Elite hasn’t been able to defeat.

Nobi: Mhm. We have no reason to slow down. This is just the beginning for us. But I do believe that Chaos Elite will give us a hard time. Both them and GRiME are going to give us a fight but you best believe we're going to fight them back. We’re the top team in OWA and because of that everyone under the ranks are chomping at the bit to take us down. The challengers are fired up so what do we do? We have to fight fire with fire. As I said, Noah Quinn is a great talent and I believe that he still has so much ahead of him. So does Eon Blue. I know he can rack up accolades in OWA as much as he did in Japan, but regardless, The Nice Guys have good resumes too, respectively and ours are going to keep on growing. Teddy Mac is a former OWT World Champion. Over in New Jersey, I did win some accolades in the past. The National Elite Championship was a belt I held for 4 months. As a unit, we have proven why we are currently the best in the game and we have earned the right to say we're going to continue our reign with confidence. Chaos Elite better bring their A-Games to us, because we're ready to show ours. The fans still want us as the champs and we're going to give our best for them….and to those young guns coming after us.

Teddy Mac: I’m ready to give those two my WORST, I’ll tell you. Especially when it comes to Eon Blue. Talented dude, yes. Plenty of potential, for sure. But for every good in-ring quality he has comes a long list of terrible habits, instances of disrespectful behavior and video after video showing off his unwarranted arrogance. Eon only got here two months ago and already has the nerve to think he is in ANY position to down talk us and what we’ve accomplished. And Quinn, impressionable as he is, is just as bad by following along with Eon’s viewpoints. He put the battery in Quinn’s back and has him speaking recklessly as well. These cats barely have two wins to load up on the OWA network between themselves but for some reason want to advertise themselves as the greatest thing going today, all while treating us as some sort of blight on the prospering roster of Olympus. We’re affording them way too much lip service considering how they view the tag division under us. They’ve FOOLED themselves into this savior complex where they believe that taking the belt off of us is some sort of favor to these titles. They have CONVINCED themselves that we are lesser champions compared to what they would be if they held these straps. They have amounted the tag scene as a whole to a joke while declaring themselves the only valid competitors in it. It’s like I told you before, I have love for all of the people I share a ring with, I see my opponents as brothers bound by the wars we have in that squared circle, but I’m not going to grin and be all cheery for people thrashing my livelihood and trying to big league me like I’m that office boy grunt still.

Nobi: I’m not going to hold you back this time, come on Ted, keep going.

Teddy Mac: Those two goofs need to look back since springtime and see how the tag division has flourished since we won the belts! We took the tag titles from being a one team division with The Dollhouse to having a four team classic at Final Destination, to having all sorts of new pairings surfacing such as Bollywood World Order, AK-47, I’d even count Ashes of the Wake! Oh, and of course the tag division sure seemed appealing to Eon and Quinn once we brought the hype to it! We have provided a strong example as champions and have inspired dozens of people to join the fray. We took the tag belts to the Omega Heavyweight Championship match at Hardcore Havoc, and look at it now! WE HAVE A WHOLE SHOW BASED AROUND OUR DEFENSE! Two thousand people are going to be packed into Fronton Mexico for Atlantis: Meltdown, the first ever special event headlined by the tag straps. That wouldn’t have happened with the self absorbed Dollhouse, it wouldn’t have happened with Zaibatsu when they cared more about their individual goals, and it wouldn’t have happened with the Chaos Elite. They see these belts as props. A card for them to pull whenever they’re rightfully checked for the ego. A crutch they can use to go “ha ha” and brag about how good they are since their win/loss record darn sure doesn’t show it. We’re in the tag division, holding these belts for the love of the sport, because we are passionate about the art of tag team wrestling. We want nothing but the best for these belts, these titles are our souls, they aren’t a freebie to help us win some pissing contest with the boys in the back, they aren’t meant to be bandaids to nurse our insecurities, they are the proud monuments to our hard work and dedication. Chaos Elite have a good foundation but they’re in this for the wrong reasons and need to be taught a lesson. A lesson in humbleness. A lesson in respect. A lesson in perspective. You can want to win, I won’t fault you for that, but at least keep in mind who you are talking to and give us the same courtesy we give you. We’ve been beating the likes of Void, Michael Bishop, Arata Asakura, and so on while they were still getting tossed around by Curze and Nighttime! We can’t let them win with the attitudes they have now! Not a chance in hell! We are going to give them the ass beating of a lifetime. I’m not talking about the kind of beatings they’ve been getting since they stepped through the door - I’m going to break my boot so far up their behinds that this will be the loss to finally get through to them and let them know not to get ahead of themselves!

Nobi: Jesus, Ted. Forget the hot dogs, you might need a Snickers.

(Teddy Mac is in a huff as he piles on more to his plate, keeping an angry expression while he bites into his food. Nobi observes him and laughs.)

Nobi: With all the food you got, you’d figure you got munchies that would put GRiME to shame.

(Teddy Mac looks up at Nobi as the intensity he had begins to soften. He laughs with his partner.)

Teddy Mac: Heh, GRiME. I got so caught up in speaking on the Doofus Elite I almost forgot about the third team in this affair. The team that I actually have props to give to without any asterisk next to it or any need for gritted teeth. GRiME has been grinding just as long as we have here in the OWA, and despite every bruise they’ve taken and every bump they’ve faced on the road they’ve remained focused on their end goal. They haven’t complained, they haven’t whined, they haven’t shown even one inkling that they’d want to give up. Any adversity they’ve faced has been dealt with head on with no fear. They take a loss, they get knocked down, and they get back up like nothing happened! Nothing breaks these guys and it’s fascinating to see. Check out any message from GRiME after a match, win or lose they just keep on chugging along, clocking into work with a new gameplan in mind and a shoulder shrug to any past failings. They have a very “no worries” type of mindset which is infectious. Their way of life is something I wish I could have picked up on a long time ago...but as a family man there’s only room for one lady in my home and her name isn’t Mary Jane. Probably would be a bit harmful to the girls too.

Nobi: I’m confused, Ted. Mary Jane in the house? I don’t see what polyamory has to do with match. And as role model tag champs you know I can’t condone that, man!

Teddy Mac: No, Nobi, by Mary Jane I mean….nevermind. It seems like they’ve weaned off the devil’s lettuce as of late anyway and instead are getting their motivation from their third member - Travis Brooks. Ever since he’s become more present they’ve gone into a whole new direction. Not just with how they talk, but how they approach matches. They’re still laid back stoners at their core but I’m starting to see some of that rowdy skater boy energy.

Nobi: Rowdy skater boy?

Teddy Mac: Think teenage rebellion. Those who thrive off counterculture. Heavy metal wrestlers….the type of vandals that used to TP my house and throw eggs at my car. Good times. They’ve been entering their matches with their middle fingers up and all the vitriol of men who are willing to throw their whole well being away in order to secure a win. They’re not just visually impressive high fliers with some cool tricks and flips to get the crowd going, they’re legitimately dangerous. They have it in ‘em to do some damage and leave us laying. Like us they want to tear the Chaos Elite a new one, but I know they’re looking to tear into us like fresh meat as well. There’s only so many times you can be denied entry before you say screw it and bust through the door. They look primed to break through this week at our expense. They seem to respect our abilities well enough and know we aren’t going down easy, but there’s been some comments here and there that let me know they think we’ve been a bit soft while holding the titles. You can tell they’re focusing too much on the packaging being presented rather than the content underneath, and that’s puzzling to me because they’ve seen what we’re about. They were in the final two with us at that Final Destination four way and had the best tag exchange we’ve seen in all three years of these belts' existence. The exchange we won. I get it, we might be silly at times. We might not be the most hip or trendy wrestlers in this business - I’m mostly speaking for myself there with you having all of those Hollywood movies, Nobi - and their criticism is right that we love to indulge in snacks.

Nobi: We sure do. What’s wrong with a healthy appetite?

Teddy Mac: Nothing’s wrong with it. We have a lot of things outside of the ring that might not scream “threatening” but what we’re up to when we’re not doing our job isn’t relevant. Our look doesn’t matter, our behavior doesn’t matter, what matters is what we do when that bell rings and the result we produce when that ref says time. We kill it during our matches and when the straps are on the line we always prevail. Neither team has the track record we do so as of now there isn’t a debate on our skills or our chances of winning. We can do this. We WILL do this. Atlantis was the program we won these belts at and it will be the program where we enforce our roles as the artists of this tag division!

Nobi: Amen to that!

(Nobi and Teddy each lift their bottle of root beer, “toasting” to Ted’s statements before taking a drink. Our scene soon fades from there.)

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

Re: OWA Promos July 13th 2020, 8:58 am by **The Udy**

yadavatirno bhagavan kalkir dharma-patir harih
kritam bhavishyati tada praja-sutish ca sattviki

"When the Supreme Lord Hari [Krishna] has appeared on earth as
Kalki, the maintainer of religion,
Satya-yuga [the age of truth] will begin,
and human society will bring forth progeny
in the mode of goodness."

(The Infernal Beast is now standing in a battlefield with what looks like bodies. Again vultures are hovering overhead)

"Gwen Harper you do intrigue me now. A huntress. A warrior. But of what? What cause Gwen? You are like a warrior without a war, a rebel without a cause...a hunter of innocent beasts for mere fun"

(The Beast looks straight ahead)

"You hunt the majestic animals that roam the earth just because you have the power and just because you enjoy. What does that make you? A blood thirsty destroyer. A soul plagued by failing humanity as they say. Gwen you are just a tyrannical mortal who perceives the world to be her own dollhouse and where she rules"

"Your spit venom at me but do you realize the futility? The demon inside always destroys Gwen. And..."

(The Infernal Beast puts his hand out as a vulture flies down and seats on his arm)

"So Gwen I am not going to indulge your hopes. Because truth be told, you are going down just like the rest. None better are you and none better shalt you fare"

(The vulture flies away as The Beast starts laughing manically)

"But I am here not to threaten all of you like each and everyone does here. I am here to reiterate on the truth. The truth about end of the age of degeneration. To sing the song of usherance of the age of the truth. The song of your despair. The dance with your distress folks"

(He looks up at the sky and spreads his arms)

"You see the decay in your soul when you look at my eyes. You will hear the sound of your fate. Fate which will result in your end. An end which will beginning of something so wonderful that those who survive it, will feel the power of Vishnu, the creator..Just like you feel the wrath of Kalki...the devastation brought fort by The Destroyer Shiva. "

"I am the hand of justice and I have the hammer that will deliver it. This is a futile but you can still try to run. Run to your graves...run to your bed...run to your dark deep corner to hide. But you can't for long."

(The Infernal Beast taps his head to light up his right eye red again)

"Atlantis will be the battleground where Satyayug begins. ANd you know whats the biggest Satya? The prime truth? Its me..I am the ultimate truth that will eliminate each and everyone of you. Each and everyone of you will fall...Maelstorm will...so will Pavel...Azurine Vebbins, Devi Krysis, Gwen Harper, Liara Lawson, Rebecca Brookes, Alexander King, Daniel Horror, Revy, Mizuko Nishiyama, Jacob Nighttime, Jack Dio, Mark Michaels all will feel the swift sword of Kalki. The dance of destruction of Mahashiva. The horsemen and their hand of fate."

(The Beast raises his hands as blue flames start surrounding him as he chants)

"Mrutyunjayaaya Rudraaya Neelakantaya Shambhave
Amriteshaaya Sarvaaya Mahadevaaya Te Namaha"

"You are the one who has conquered death and are responsible for destruction of the Universe to let life again prevail on earth"

"Bow down to him....because your conscience will finally catch you and kill you. Your guilt will end you"

"FOR I AM THE INFERNAL BEAST..AND I AM THE END OF YOUR TIME"

(The entire scene is engulfed in blue flames with only The Beast's red glowing eyes remaining)

Re: OWA Promos July 13th 2020, 6:43 am by **Arata Asakura**

Boiling Point #1: Childish dream.

10.07.20 Osaka, Japan

*Events during the last Kingdom left much to be desired when it comes to OWA Frontline. Not only did they fail in favor or Ashes of the Wake, but the match itself brought a lot of damage, which was not desirable, especially since there is not much time left to Boiling Point, where Arata will defend his championship against one of Havoc's puppets, Jacob Knight. Fortunately, the Japanese man's injuries seemed to be much worse than they really were, so the doctors gave him official permission to compete. Although minor burns were still visible in his eyes area, most importantly, his eyesight did not suffer. Therefore, Arata did not intend to waste time and immediately after returning to his hometown, he began to prepare for the upcoming defense in the company of his student, Hana Nakajima. The girl didn't fully understand the whole rush of her trainer, as it would be much more beneficial for him to relax, instead of forcing himself to unnecessary effort. However, Arata didn't care that he took part in Street Fight just a few days ago, or how many times his head was smashed into steel steps. What mattered to him was keeping his legacy as OWA Spartan Champion and destroying Ashes of the Wake one by one. However, Hana wasn't aware of this, so she began to ask. At first, the man did not want to talk, simply ignoring what she was saying, but seeing that the teenager would not let go, he finally began to answer questions that were bothering her.*

“Do you really have to ask the same stupid questions again and again? Why don't you rest, Arata-San? Why are you in such a hurry? Hana, damn it, you have eyes and you can see the situation. Do you think I have time to rest? It was enough that I blinked one time too much and this jerk tried to blind me. Just understand that I feel good, but more importantly, I just don't have time to sit back and think 'what if'. I can't afford myself to lose my championship to someone like that, kid. Not only because he simply doesn't deserve to even touch my belt, but because it would only fuel the fire of this whole fucking revolution that they are all talking about. You felt on your own skin the consequences of The Underworld's presence. It is exactly the same with Ashes of the Wake. If we do not extinguish this "fire" as soon as possible, it will consume everything and it will not be good for anyone. We have to show them from the beginning, that they are just fools who blindly believe that they can make their own justice.”

*Hana didn't expect that kind of answer, so she didn't know what to say for a moment. In the end, however, she managed to sort out her thoughts and continue the conversation.*

“So are you trying to say, that they're something like public enemies number one? But how can you be sure that all of them are bad? Okay, I know Maverick, Havoc never looked friendly, and Vincent is...weird. However, Jacob seems to be a good man who just chose the wrong path. You know that sometimes bad influence can make someone stop thinking logically. Perhaps there is still a chance to save him, huh?”

*The man shook his head, listening to Hana's words, and when she finished, he answered in a harsh tone of voice. Sometimes he was really disappointed by how naive Hana can be.*

“I don't care. Knight made that choice, even if it was a mistake. However, this is his mistake and I am not going to try anymore to show other people, that you can act in a different way. At one point, I thought it was just my fault that I couldn't convince them, but then I realized that nobody could be forced to do anything. Just as no one forced Knight to serve to Havoc...just as no one forced him to do all this crap to Jeff or me. Understand, that it is not worth fighting for someone who doesn't know who he is, because I am sure that Knight is torn inside. You can see it by looking at his behavior, how much he doesn't know what he is doing. He is still trying to hide behind the mask of badass, but inside he is still the same weak person who he always was. That is why he can be used, because he knows that he cannot deal alone. Knight is perfectly aware, that the only role he is suitable for, is being a paw in the hands of a more important player. However, it looks like he has some nerve recently. If he wants, he may think that he has any chance to become the standard of this company, but reality will destroy his dreams. It always has been like that and always will be. I don't know how many times I've gone through the same pattern, but they always ended in the same way - with their head under my boot.”

“So am I supposed to understand, that you're not even considering giving him a second chance?”

“It's too late to give a second chance, Hana. Knight had the opportunity to get it many times, but he always chose the wrong side. All that left, right now, is to give him the punishment that he deserves. You see, maybe he is not a bad person, but he is definitely a moron, blinded by promises of power. If I am to be honest, being stupid is more of a crime than just being bad person. That's all I had to say. Don't bother me anymore with your questions.”

*These words left the Japanese woman speechless, while Arata returned to his preparation. Even if some of the things he said were brutal, he didn't regret anything, as he had no reason to feel guilty for telling the truth.*

12.07.20 Wrestleworld Arena

*Before the next chapter of the fight with Ashes of the Wake, which awaits him at Boiling Point, Arata was still obliged to devote his attention to current matters. However, at the back of his head he still remembered about the title match, which can have a huge impact on the further development of hated faction. Therefore, after days of silence, he finally decided to speak, especially since Jacob Knight had quite a lot to say about him. Hence, Arata, sitting on a steel chair in Wrestleworld's locker room, was ready to make him aware of a few things. However, before the man, dressed in a black hoodie, dark jeans and black sport shoes, spoke for the first time, he brushed back the strands of his hair, so that the remains of burns on his face could be seen. Then he smiled slightly and began to speak, holding the hands in his hoodie's pockets.*

Some people think, that the only way to make their own rules is excessive violence and cheap shots. That's what Jacob Senn thought when he swapped contracts. That's what Maverick thought when he decided to put the faces of my family on his ring gear or write letters to my girlfriend. That's what Jacob Knight also apparently thinks so, but like each of the previous ones, he will get his moment to understand that he is wrong. Of course, I realize that it will not happen in the blink of an eye, because it is not so easy to get rid of this meanness that is taking root more and more every day. However, perhaps after our match, he will be able to see in this stupid head of his, that the "values" that Ashes of the Wake instilled in him, would not change the fact that he would always be nobody. On the one hand, I understand why it was so easy for them to tempt him. Someone, who desperately wants to be a part of something big, is able to sign a contract even with the devil himself. However, from the perspective of someone, who has gone through hell, it's just pathetic. Knight is desperate and cowardly, since becoming part of this group. Maybe for him it seems, that he did the best deal in his life and people will eventually start to treat him as something more, but it is pretty opposite. He became even bigger weakling, relying on others. I'm not saying that having companions is bad thing, but allowing yourself to be used for a poor sense of security and to rise self-esteem is shameful. However, Knight is so blinded by the vision of revolution, that he can't see reality, or rather doesn't want to see it. I could even say that he is defending himself from seeing, that this is not the position he should be in. You don't have to look far to prove what I'm saying. Just look at what happened to Jeff X. When he had the perfect opportunity to hit him with a bat in the face, he couldn't do it. He couldn't do it, because he was afraid that he might cross the like that he didn't want to cross. I may have already talked about it, but the truth still remains the same and even if Knight tries to undermine it by trying to set fire to my face, everyone can see that it is a desperate attempt to gain recognition in the eyes of his "companions", or rather to deceive himself.

*Arata pauses for a moment to take a breath, then continues his statement. His voice becomes harsher with each passing moment.*

How long are you going to do this, Jacob? How long are you going to live in the belief that you can change something, if you can't even change yourself? Despite the way you speak, I am not able to believe in this new persona of yours, no one is, but you are still the first to be willing to talk about, what is real and what is not. You have all these "buts" when it comes to me, or actually my origin. You know what? Maybe I wear expensive suits, maybe I don't live in the same dirty place anymore, but I still remember where I came from. Contrary to your false statements, I have never rejected this part of myself, and I even support the local community. Maybe it's a matter of my childhood complexes, maybe I just want to do something good, but at least I'm not just talking about changes. I am making these changes. The only thing I hear from you is just "revolution this" , "revolution that". I will ask again. What fucking revolution? There was no problem in OWA, until your group started to create it. I guess, you're going to bark like any other loser, that what someone like me may know? What may know someone who is treated like a Golden Boy, huh? That because of people like me and the management approach, such underestimated wrestler like you suffer the most, am I right? Is that a reason? Is that why you're trying to make this company into a dust? Because you feel underrated? Well, what can I say is...It is the same argument made by all those, who are stuck in mediocrity. There's nothing wrong with that, Knight. Not everyone is destined to be the main superstar...Not everyone is born to have many achievements written under his name. Some just have to be content with the fact, that they were good enough to even be in this business. Instead of participating in riot, you should be grateful that OWA decided to pay attention to you, because if not, you would probably still be known only among the insignificant companies. Therefore, stop acting like a spoiled child and forget about the titles. It has never been within your reach and as long as I hold the Spartan Championship, it will never be. People like me are the future of this company, or rather the whole industry. You and Ashes of the Wake are only a temporary threat, that will be eliminated sooner or later. World will forget about this bunch sooner than you can even imagine.

But what will be left to you then, Jacob? Shame that you were stupid enough to be part of it? Or maybe pride? Although, I don't think you're rotten enough to be proud of it. The only thing you will have is the lack of trust from the rest of the roster. You will be alone, after your current buddies throw you out like a used condom. As you can notice, this revolution has no future. Ashes of the Wake has no future. Jacob Knight has no future. What's interesting, though, is that you believe you can create this future. Somewhere in this stupid head appeared the hope, that you have what it takes to win the Spartan Championship. I'm sorry that I have to ruin it for you, but there is no chance that it will happen. If it were a match under different rules, it might be a shadow of a chance that you might succeed, because you can't predict everything. These burnts around my eyes are perfect proof of this. But no, we will face each other in a standard fight. No fire or another bullshit, just pure wrestling and you have already lost, Knight. You can fool yourself by saying, that these are not Shogun Rules and it is therefore different. But is this really like that? Do you think that it will stop me from hitting you hard enough to take your breath away? Do you think this is enough to stop me from ripping your head off with a good old Penalty Kick? You idiot, it doesn't change anything for me, because you're still on my field. You know, how your buddy Maverick ended up, when this happened. So stop barking so loud and maybe I'll be more gentle. However, if you force me to show you what real Japanese Strong Style is, I can't promise you that you'll ever be back in the ring again. All in all, not a big loss.

*The young Japanese man shrugs his shoulders with a smirk on his face. The man takes his hands out of his pockets and puts them in a crossed-arms position, still leaning his back on the back of the chair.*

Maybe this match means a lot to you, even if it's only one of many title defenses for me. Maybe you think, that this can be your golden ticket, not only to gain recognition, but also to start this whole revolution. However, you probably don't realize, how much means to me this championship itself. It is the embodiment of all these years of my hard work, even looking at the values that the Spartan Championship represents, I can say that it is the embodiment of my personality. Therefore, if you think that I will let you put a finger on my gold, you are even a bigger moron than I thought. Whether at Boiling Point or in the near future, this championship remains in the only hands that are able to bear the responsibility of having it. It's enough that people like Reggie have stained the Spartan Championship with shame, so I can't let it come back to those pathetic days. Days that you see as something great and I as a childish dream of yours. The childish dream of a fool who thinks, that he can change the world, but at Boiling Point this dream will end, because I will stop your pathetic vision of the world, before it even starts.

*No so long after these words, the recording ends with the view of the current champion, who before is able to fully concentrate on Jacob Knight, must first fulfill other obligations. However, when the time is right, it will be just the beginning of the end of Ashes of the Wake, starting from their weakest link.*

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

Re: OWA Promos July 13th 2020, 1:22 am by **VaeVictisBD**

parameters

"The Prodigal Son" Finnegan Wakefield

"The future depends on what we do in the present."

"What emotion do I invoke in my opposition to leave them so silent for so long? Is there a button that I press that leaves the people that oppose me mute? Because for the last two months I have found myself with a lot to say and my opponents with nothing at all. I am starting to think it is my fault; that I leave my opponents choosing their words too carefully. Not initially a bad thing, I would rather them try and rationalize a proper verbal retort when they choose to speak up. But it often proceeds with a silence that is so deafening. Stark, I would have thought by now you'd have had so many things to say. I thought you would jump the gun to try and tear my career asunder verbally so that you could paint yourself as the best thing going on the Olympus brand right now -- if not the entire Omega Wrestling Alliance. And yet I have watched the days tick by, waiting in anticipation to fire back and show just how serious I am about becoming the Television Champion come Boiling Point. I'll be transparent; I found it discouraging. No, that isn't it. I found it disrespectful to not see that same initiative taken by you. To not jump at my throat, call me a fallen ace and a failed world champion and look that camera lens straight down the barrel and tell me you're going to kick my lanky ass like you did Nathan Fiora so many times now. I don't know what caused this long silence from you. Perhaps you just kicked your feet up and thought this defense like your last two are in the pocket and out of sight already. That victory is so certain that you don't honestly feel the need to verbally justify it in a metaphorical joust with me before we actually get in the ring. Or perhaps it isn't a cause and effect from the lackadaisical weeks you've had against Chaz O'Connor and Keelan Callihan; maybe you're just sitting back and admiring a view past me. Like I am not truly an obstacle for you to overcome. After seven days of making my proclamation public and not hearing anything in return, what other conclusion am I left to really make? You made a big deal out of this match being one that deserves not to just be a free television bout, yet I don't see you making any strides to make it a box office draw of a contest. I don't see you hyping it up to be the sleeper match that can steal the show. I don't even see you bringing your best self into this match mentally. For someone who has been hyping themself up as the paragon of this brand, the man who stands above the brands current top stars, you are holding your tongue ever so tightly only now when it's time to step into the ring with me. If your definition of a clown is someone sitting on their hands, failing to be entertaining, and throwing their potential down the drain at a self-damning rate, not sure how to break this to you mate, I am starting to see you walk a mile in their shoes.

It's this lack of initiative that makes your championship reigns forgotten quicker than they began.

I can imagine you're sitting in your bonsai garden collecting yourself, finding your zen with a little help from your mistress Mary Jane. I hope I don't have to explain that to anyone. But being this hushed for this long? Do I not strike a sense of urgency? Or do you just not value delivering on what believe in with this match being a bigger match than some would possibly bill it? We're both decorated former champions, you with a long resume of collected championship reigns while I home reigns of legend. The few titles I had the privilege of holding were reigns of a committed soul pursuing a dream and busting his ass to break through to reality. While few in numbers, they were far from discredited and forgotten. It's why, ever since coming back, I have racked up a bit of infamy as they tyrannical first OWA World Champion that needed to be pushed out of the company as a whole to give someone else the mantle. You on the other hand have garnered a less flattering reputation when it comes to collecting championship acclaim. You're often the forgotten piece of the puzzle. The bit player. In wrestling terms, the transitional champion. I've kept a record of your reigns, I like to think myself a bit of a casual historian when it comes to this business, your history while labeled with reigns with credible championships are not worth much deeper than the surface level of your resume. The reigns themselves aren't very noteworthy. That championship I mentioned a week ago, the one I took great pride taking out of its dumpster fire of a reputation, you once held many years prior. You took the title away from it's greatest champion, a great Australian competitor that -- although I don't love where he calls home -- I still hold a ton of respect for. You ended that great reign, the ball was in your court to take and run with it and you ran into the brick wall less than two months later. To some dyslexic journeyman that somehow got into their Hall of Fame. I can be a little miffed at my 2 year-long dry spell from even contending for a championship belt, but it took two years for you to gain your next one after that from someone, alright, I'll give him credit where it's due, a solid competitor in his own right and speaks that you can hold your own against them. But around sixty days later, another brick wall in the shape of a terrible part-timer with poor originality of naming themselves. The point I am getting at is you seem to have a tendency to drop your chances at proving your legacy to mediocrity. That category of competitor I don't find myself in. My past year may have been one of hardship, but it has not made me any less of a competitor. My prerogatives were changed and here I am again, having to do the same.

My parameters have changed according to the nearest future, not the furthest.

I'm not looking at Bull Connors or Derelict at the moment -- the outcome of their bout holds no weight to my mindset for Boiling Point. Whoever walks out as the champion is not my concern, though eventually, I know they will be. That seems to be what is the closest goal on your mind in recent weeks, Stark. Your thought process seems to concern the long-term goal of becoming Omega Heavyweight Champion to put one last keynote in your career before it comes to an end. And I get it. Your career was brought to an end early during the last season and you managed to return despite that. Admirable. But I fear your focus is not one that can see the forest beyond the trees. The championship over your shoulder isn't one I believe you truly wish to elevate; I think it's just your means to compensate for not having what Connors has right now. It's a surrogate for the success that you wish to have in the immediate future. As for me, I have been patient. I didn't come back knocking on the door demanding back the championship I never lost. I didn't come back and asked to be put back in the main event scene. I was willing to bide my time, made my sacrifices and pay my dues over again, and now, now is the time I want my dues. I'm not asking for them, I am taking them. I am earning them like I have earned every inch of my career. Every drop of my blood, sweat and tears that have painted that canvas out there, that's what I paid to be considered one of the best and it's time I start reminding people why that was. I have had a lineage of great matches over the last few years, and my body feels the wear and tear of those contests. What my time away taught me is that I don't know how long my career can possibly go, it can be a candle snuffed out any day. I am not the biggest competitor. Definitely not the most muscular. I'm not the baddest. I know what I am and I know what I am not and what I am not is someone quitting out on their dream, sitting on their hands and waiting for an opportunity to come knocking. I'm the ace that put this place on the map and slowly but surely I am going to build my way back up. I've beaten grade A names this season and Stark, you're next on that list. My woes of last season, yeah, they have been on my mind a lot last season but I will right those wrongs in time. My focus is laser pointed at you and the Television Championship. I don't know how much of me it will take to beat you for it Stark, but I am not giving this match anything less than one hundred percent of what I am today. I'm not giving you any less than I would a Bull Connors, or a Moongoose McQueen, or anyone who has ever held a world championship here in the OWA because I do in fact respect you enough to look you in the eye and say I am going to give it everything I have to beat you. My pride won't allow me to give you anything less. And if you're serious about being the best on Olympus, chasing that Omega Heavyweight Championship, you'd do the same because right now I am fine leaving you in the dust if all I get from you is what I have been given this week. I am hoping, if nothing else, this is the slap in the face that wakes you up. The one that provokes you to give me everything you've got because I don't want an excuse when Boiling Point is over. I want two of the best to get in that ring, show the world what we've got and when the bell rings the person who wanted it more is the one that holds that Television Championship high because THAT is how you elevate a championship. That is how you disassociate it with the circus act competition.

It's time I stop having great matches. It's time I start winning great matches.

This might be the closest to the Finnegan Wakefield I have felt in a long time. The Finnegan Wakefield you yourself have said you'd dread being in this match against because on that level I can beat anyone I set my mind to. I just need that little push, that final spark to ignite it and winning this match at Boiling Point might be what does the trick. And I am not going to just sit by and wait to hear your proclamations and simmer patiently. I *need* this to wake up the Stark that believes he's the best. The guy who has been chasing a world title for ten years, I need that guy to push me just that little bit further and give me the match that I need. Because if this doesn't wake him up, if this doesn't get you to hit me with your best shot Stark, I don't know what will. You will fall to pattern recognition. Those past two reigns of yours I mentioned? Sixty-two and sixty-three respectively, each you had them held for. Boiling Point, appropriate to that, will fall just shy of that 60 day mark. I don't want an arbitrary percentage of what you believe yourself to be Stark, if you want to break that cycle I want to see it. I want to hear it coming from your own mouth that you believe you're going to beat me. Because right now, if I looked you dead in the eye, not only would I doubt it. I'd see you blink."

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

Re: OWA Promos July 12th 2020, 11:06 pm by Guest

¤Baba Yaga is outside of Estadio Azteca in Mexico, taking in the harsh rays of the sun, while John and Jane Doe sit underneath some shade in a nearby lawn chair with his OWA Openweight Championship next to them¤

Time, and time, and time, and time... several times, multiple times, millions of times! How many times? Infinity times! I don't know if there's a limit to my sanity---not even my sanity! Is there a limit to what valley or ditch they dig these prophets of the new world out of? I know, I know, this is a lot coming from the guy walking around with two stuffed cats. But can you really blame those that are judged for judging others? That's almost a pivotal point for my naturally selected opposition. See what I did there? I regularly take this time to air my frustrations with previous encounters who share like-mindedness with my opponent. They usually all share the same hatred and anger toward me. They initially have this sense of power and glory, because they have this inhuman premonition of victory! They see someone who's a bit "off", colored hair, doesn't approach every situation the same way the rest of the world does. And what else can they do, but pass along their judgement onto me? It's the initial thought of an easily captured victory that becomes their predetermined loss! I've fought through many wars just to attain the riches of today! But why bother reveling in the past? Why roll around in the dirt you marched in?! I'm no dog! I'm not easily entertained by a tennis ball and some treats! But I'm unusually motivated to defend my leather against yet another unique specimen! It's almost unheard of, wouldn't you agree, Vinny? Religion and wrestling? You're a holy warmonger with the mindset of "God this'', "God that", "God everything", but here's a newsflash, buddy! Will God assist you in your corner when we clash? Will God bless you with the holy matrimony to MY belt? I mean it's almost a sin if you had an affair with my leather and gold! Do you know how many disgusting waists this strap laid on?! You're going to need a whole gallon, NO! JUGS! Maybe even truck loads of holy water just to wash away the taint that's spread upon the belt! I will wholeheartedly admit that my love for the OWA Openweight Championship has withered more and more with the ridiculous amounts of enemies it's given to me. Did you know a hobo once threatened to rip John Doe in half if I even tagged myself in? That was the same hobo who wanted this belt back from the guy I beat for it! That same hobo is also now moved up in the world from a box---to a tent! I honestly thought that the pleasure of this belt would be a lot more gratifying than I previously imagined. But it's drawn in mockeries such as SoundCloud rappers, rejects, mythical beasts, and now there's a whole battle royal full of freaks with their sights set on me! And I believe I'm the only one who's talented enough to keep these freaky freak shows at bay away from the spotlight that the title has provided me! I don't think your mindset is fully capable of waging a religious war, while battling off the supernatural entities of the night!

¤Baba Yaga proceeds to sit in the long lawn chair with an umbrella shading him, he lifts up a drink, taking a big gulp, before staring into the cloudless sky¤

The more I think of it---the title has become my burden to bear. It serves some sort of purpose to that of John Doe. I have to drag it along with me all over the place while it attracts every psychopath and special case toward it. It's like a magnet that only pulls in the crazies! You wouldn't consider me that crazy, would you? I guess you could call me "insane" for going against the odds of Havoc's goons. It took the majority of them to just barely get the one up on me. I guess you thought the odds would be in your favor, huh? That these "crusaders" would aid you in your path to righteousness? Do note that I challenged YOU... and you accepted. I herded you in like the mindless sheep that you are. I'm leading you to your own demise. It's a career disaster story, before it even becomes a career at all! You've only been here for how long now? I can't imagine you picking up the scraps after suffering a massive blow to your oh so religious ego. I will confess, a loss here would strike down my streak of dominance in whatever you claim this "openweight" division to be. I can't imagine how it would flourish without me, so that's why I intend to hold the title forever! The burden is MINE and not YOURS. I can hold this title for as long as I want to! I can hold it until I get another title, then another title, maybe I'll just hold every single title and melt them down into one to make a mega championship! I would be the one to easily accomplish a feature such as that! But here I am dealing with another bible thumping addict. Do we need to set an intervention for you? My cats are some of the world's most renowned therapists and listeners that walk the planet! They're also some of the best professional wrestling trainers... so good that if they were the ones stepping foot inside of the ring with you and not myself---oh man! Do you know the world of hurt you would be in then? They're so dangerous, despicable, sadistic! Do you know the type of things they whisper in my ear? You'd probably call it "satanic"! I mean Jane has a bit more of a logical approach, while John Doe wants to watch the world burn. The chaos that could potentially ensue if everything goes accordingly---and even if they don't. There's always room for adaptability. I'm prepared for every outcome of this bout between us. I'm prepared to take this title to constant new heights, while you fall back on licking Havoc's paint off his body when he's done being the world's greatest "Split" parody. This encounter between us will be very brief before I get my hands on your boss and the rest of his slackers. But hey! Maybe I can catch you at Sunday school? You can tell me how John and Jane Doe are the only living animals that still exist off Noah's Arc! I'd love to hear that story!

¤Without another word, Baba Yaga smiles into the camera very oddly, before chugging the rest of his drink down, stretching out, shutting his eyes, embracing the warmth of the summer day, as the camera fades¤

Re: OWA Promos July 12th 2020, 1:17 pm by **Holden Tudics**

Boiling Point III Promo 2: You've Seen The Butcher

(The camera opens on a familiar looking upscale borough that looks all the more familiar once the Derelict appears walking down the center of it's street, his head bobbing and weaving as he passes every space between a building. His rubbernecking ceases as a familiar voice hits his ear canals. He sighs and looks straight ahead at a gathering mass of downtrodden humanity huddled together around a stage erected directly in the center of the road he's currently traversing.)

Saul Abzu: The plague of Egypt has pushed the bourgeois and proletariat back into their decadent castles and meager villages of creature comforts, letting us rats of society flood the streets to await the arrival of our rat king.

(The teetering and wobbling malnourished mass of the homeless groan and moan like a pack of zombies in a post-apocalyptic nightmare. Saul looks up from his podium and spots the Derelict's slow approach. The sun glistens off of Saul's shade as he looks up to the heavens with a smile.)

Saul Abzu: Speak of the Devil and he shall appear!

(The Derelict wades through the walking dead of society, nudging past them nonchalantly as he walks toward the stage. After reaching the stage, he dismissively glares in disapproval and turns to the huddled masses.)

The Derelict: This man speaks lies. I'm not your savior. I'm merely one of you, the best of you, the strongest of you. As such, my only commandment is to leave my sight and let me go on my way.

(Saul creeps over Derelict's shoulder and whispers in his ear.)

Saul Abzu: I know why you're here.

(Derelict's eyes flicker momentarily with annoyance, before returning to their status as glazed over and placid pools of uncaring.)

The Derelict: This man cannot be trusted. He's one of the upper crust he prophetesses against so vehemently. I've seen him in the back of limos, I've watched him turn up at my side in million dollar three piece suits that he makes look like Salvation Army specials by simply wearing them. I'm sure the sunglasses hugging the bridge of his nose even now cost more money than any of us have seen.

Saul Abzu: (still whispering to Derelict like a devil on his shoulder) well, not all of you.

(Derelict stares straight ahead at the hobo armada before him for a moment, as if searching for what to say to the drunken and impoverished swarm. He snaps around to face Saul, which startles the little man out of his cheshire cat grin momentarily. Before he can fully regain his composure, Derelict grabs the lapels of his suit jacket, yanks the little man off stage, and plants him firmly on the ground. Saul shows a brief moment of limber tail, but it's quickly shut down by a meaty hand on his shoulder.)

The Derelict: Let's take a walk, just you and I.

(Saul, clearly put off of his game by this direct confrontation, turns to the horde and waves them off just as Derelict yanks him into a nearby back alley and slams him against the wall. After a momentary groan of discomfort, Saul's hand starts to sink into his jacket, only for Derelict to grab his wrist and pin it painfully to the bricks behind Saul.)

The Derelict: What do you know.

Saul Abzu: I know you're not poor. I know why you're here. I also know that there's a mattress with 'Bed Bugs' scrawled across it propped up in one of these alleyways that neither grows nor diminishes in amount no matter how much money you put into it.

The Derelict: So you've been stealing from me?

Saul Abzu: I've been treating you.

The Derelict: With my own money.

Saul Abzu: Is it truly yours if you don't claim it?

(Derelict lets the little man fall to the ground and slowly begins to walk off.)

Saul Abzu: Why don't you ever take any out of it?

(The Derelict stops in his tracks and turns back to the little man in a cheap looking expensive suit. Sensing another charge from the Derelict, Saul reaches into his jacket and whips out a lighter and flash paper and holds them up in foreboding. Derelict's muscles loosen as he leans against the wall and lets his back slide down the brick until he's crouched on the ground.)

The Derelict: There's a cool mill in that mattress. It always stayed a cool mill, no matter how many times I counted it. Not a dollar more, not a penny less. I guess I always knew someone was taking it, but it kind of disgusts me that it's you trying to wine and dine me and sell me on this idea of living this high life that I can already afford. And why? because you think I'm some lost king of some fallen society, some desert sheik whose meant to lead my people to the promise land.

(Saul approaches the near eye level man sitting on the ground before him and lifts his chin up to face him.)

Saul Abzu: You are. You are him.

The Derelict: So what should I do? Sell out? cave into everything that I hate about this world just because OWA pays me handsomely?

Saul Abzu: You're on the verge of claiming dominion over their kingdom and you're worried about mere pennies compared to what a champion's purse will afford you. You don't have to take this money and sit in a limo and drink yourself blind. You can take it and shove it back down their throats. You're surrounded by ironies and parody every single time you walk down that road out there to find this mattress in a hoity-toity town that's so up it's own ass with money that even the trash men around here think touching a discarded mattress in an alley is above their pay grade. Walk with me.

(Saul take's Derelict's meaty hand in his own small digits and leads him to his feet and out of the alleyway. Mere inches onto the sidewalk, Saul turns to face a store window display where a high end and jacked mannequin stands posing in a pair of designer Converse, a pair of pre-cut acid wash jeans, and an impeccably symmetrical red flannel with a vintage Misfits t-shirt underneath.)

Saul Abzu: Look. Look at what this man of marble wears. He's adorned in clothes that you could pick up in a Goodwill for under twenty dollars, and yet his price tag reads in the quadruple digits. I've seen men on the street wearing these clothes that weren't of high stock because at one time it was all they could afford."

(Saul spins around on his heels, grabs Derelict on the shoulder and turns him around forcefully to stare across the street at an up scale eye ware store called "iGlasses".)

Saul Abzu: Look over there. Do you see? The horned rimmed glasses, the wire framed circular spectacles, they were all marks of the impoverished mere decades ago. Those were the specs that Medicaid and medicare would cover. They were for the freaks and geeks of the world who couldn't afford the stylized Oakley glasses that the rich wore with pride. Now what do they do? They steal the commoner's look and mark it up to a higher price. They're taunting us, my sovereign. They walk around dressed as us in an affront to everything we stand for. They mock your kingdom of the meek. They spit in the face of you as a true challenge to their throne.

The Derelict: I did just meet a man named Bull in a steakhouse to sign paperwork for a fight...that's a pretty bold middle finger.

Saul Abzu: You're seeing the connective tissue! You see them turning us into an 'ironic' fashion statements. They plan to take our attempts at survival and gallivant with them as fools. They may as well be one of the ancient tribes skinning us of our faces and placing it over their own to dance and mock those they've conquered. They're claiming fealty my liege.

(Saul grabs The Derelict by the beard and pulls him down to look him directly in the eye.)

Saul Abzu: And you have the means to retaliate. So, how shall we proceed my fearless leader?

(The Derelict's eyes lift from Saul's dark gaze and begin scanning the charmed streets that surround him. His eyes land on a ritzy restaurant with a Swan for a sign that reads "Beaux Oiseau" in pink neon. His mischievously smiling eyes narrow back down to Saul.)

Derelict: Wrangle the troops and have them carry that mattress full of dough to that restaurant over there. We're going all out tonight.

(Derelict starts lumbering toward the maitre d standing behind a podium on the sidewalk dressed to the nines with his hair slicked back and his nose in the air as Saul whistles and barks marching orders behind him. The maitre d sizes up the approaching hobo before sticking his nose up once more and giving a dismissive sniff. The Derelict slams his fists down on the host podium, shocking the maitre d out of his bubble of luxury and snootiness.)

Derelict: How many are inside?

Maitre d: Bonjour. Ah we a'e atte capacity.

Derelict: That's not what I asked.

Maitre d: And yet zat's ze answer you get.

Derelict: Ignoring the possibility that you're trying to brush me off, I'm assuming you're pretty empty in there considering the current state of things. Even if you were at capacity, in this current social climate I'd gather you've got maybe...fifteen people in there due to table spacing?

Maitre d: Oui.

Derelict: Speak the King's tongue, son. Je'suis bete.

Maitre d: Ah. Pardone mois, but who are zeese gentlemen?

(The hobos approach in single file. They pass the mattress down to the front of the line overhead and plop it down in front of the maitre d's stand. Derelict shoves his hand into the mattress and pulls out a handful of hundreds and slaps it on the podium.)

Derelict: Would this be enough to buy out this pretty bird for the night?

(The maitre d's eyes momentarily swell at the sight of the money. He briefly tugs at his collar and shoves his nose up in the air dismissively once more.)

Maitre d: Non.

(Derelict slaps down another stack of cash on top of the other. The maitre d starts darting his eyes around in a panic at the sight of more money.)

Maitre d: We are at capacity sir.

(Derelict sighs, scratches his head in thought for a moment, before snapping his fingers. On cue, the hobos grab the mattress's edge and rip it in twain, sending the million dollars in cash pouring out onto the sidewalk. Derelict leans on the podium and stares down the now in awe maitre d with a cocked eyebrow.)

Derelict: I'm an entrepreneurial man...what's your name?

Maitre d: Jacques Philip.

Derelict: You're John Philips now.

John Philips: Gotcha boss.

Derelict: It's good that you called me that, because I'm buying the restaurant John and keeping everyone on.

John Philips: That's very generous of you sir.

Derelict: Now clear this place out and make room for my friends here. Why don't you pass out menus while you're at it?

John Philip: Y-yes sir.

(Derelict grabs a menu and starts studying over it himself.)

Derelict: Escargot, canard a l'orange, frog's legs, caviar?...this is all peasant food. Everyone in this line has eaten snails to survive, and there's plenty of toad lickers present too. Lord knows there's not one among us that hasn't sucked the roe out of a salmon for protein. Roasted duck with a little orange juice on it? I've made that over an oil drum before in hard times. Give it all a fancy french name and suddenly it's desirable? Take the food off of the poor and struggling's plate and make it worth hundreds...I don't get this society we live in, but I do understand when I'm being talked down to and treated as a non-threat. Bull Connors makes the signing at a steakhouse, as if flippantly mocking the idea of his own mortality in some joking manner. Now I don't appreciate that Bull. I don't appreciate that one bit. I also don't appreciate your silence when I'm standing in the street and shouting for you to come out and play. I've given you my respect, my undivided attention, my outright admiration and what do you do? you throw it in my face and run away screaming 'coward' over your shoulder. I'm sick of hypocrites, Bull. I'm sick of the rich getting richer and making poor a fashion trend. I'm sick of seeing a champion gallivant around in trunks and cutoff sleeves like he's struggling when he's pulling more than anyone else in the company. I'm sick of you playing average Joe while the belt strapped around your growing waist tightens and requires extenders just to stay put. I'm sick of being upsold on the crow that's continually shoveled into my mouth every time I sing your praises. You're a tough man, but just because you make the lap of luxury look like a dorm room doesn't mean you're slumming it. You could point at me and say that I have the means to live like you but choose not to, and you'd be right. I do, and I don't. That's the difference. You pretend to be a survivor when you have a place to call home at the end of a tour while I shove my money in a mattress and sleep on the hard ground in a bank's alleyway just to mock men like you who have it all. There is no contingency plan, there's no promised tomorrow, there is no bail out for me if I end up in a rough spot. Mattresses in alleyways don't wire money out when you hit a snag on the road. I live this way because it's how I lived before the money, and it's how I'll live after it. Make no mistake, once this million's gone after tonight and I come and take your title and rake in more dough there will be more nights like this. I'll turn every Michelin five star restaurant on the western seaboard into a soup kitchen after every victory. I'll turn every "St. Regis" into a halfway house. Every lowlife and street urchin will roll up to Wall Street in Rolls Royce's and buy stock in Night Train Express until it's the hottest property in our economy. It's high time we took the good life back, don't you think? It's high time we made a mockery out of everything men like you secretly hold sacred. Since you made the good life look like poverty, we're going to help you turn gated communities into designer shanty towns. While you're doing that we'll inhabit your passe discarded mansions and suck down marked down Champagne. You want the good life? Fine. I'll turn the economy on it's head until you don't know what the standards and hallmarks of the well-to-do are anymore. Soon what I'm wearing will be high fashion, what I'm drinking will be considered the highest of port, and how I live my life will be considered highfalutin. We've been exploited long enough. Now it's our turn to exploit you. Bull, you've seen the byproduct of the slaughterhouse. You've feasted on the flesh of your bovine brethren to gain sustenance, you've hovered over a plate of your fallen foes, but you haven't seen the butcher stand before you until now."

(Derelict throws the menu down and storms into the restaurant, followed close behind by his flesh and skeleton army of hobos. As soon as he enters the restaurant the live music stops and every patron stares. He kicks over a nearby table and shoots his thumb toward the exit. Not having to be told once, the upscale patrons of Beaux Oiseau disappear out into the street as Derelict pushes two long tables together and takes his seat at their head. He snatches a bottle of wine off of the tray of a passing waiter, yanks the cork out with his teeth, and takes a giant swig before holding it over head in victory.)

"They paved paradise and put up a parking lot. It's time to take paradise back. Every Bull has it's day in the chute, and we're just cutting the head off of the first in line. Many will follow in blissful ignorance until decadence becomes status quo. Until the kings live like us, we shall live like them! The gutters shall swell with whisky. The alleyways? paved with gold. The Big Rock Candy Mountain will look like Candy Land compared to our Valhalla! We'll eat every part of the Bull like the natives before us and give every piece equal value because it all comes from the same place. In our eyes tripe is equal to tenderloin. Hamburger is no better than head cheese. Welcome to the new world order: single file with no stragglers on the outside, and going in a circle with no beginning or end. Only the strong will break from the pack and lead. Gentlemen, welcome to the human race!"

(The Derelict toasts his hobo brethren as they cheer and smash furniture in celebration. He downs the bottle of Champagne in one swig and smashes the bottle against his hard bald skull.)

"ON YOUR MARX!"

(Derelict yanks the table cloth off of the table and swings it over his head.)

"GET SET!"

(The hobos size one another up from across the tables, ready to fight one another at the drop of the flag as the camera cuts to black on...)

"Go..."

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

Re: OWA Promos July 12th 2020, 4:48 am by **The Banshee**

ATLANTIS: MELTDOWN

LIES AND LIBERTY

A fuzzy black-and-white mosaic of moving static fills the screen. As the static starts fading away, an image comes into focus, looking like what appears to be a small old church, populated by dark brick walls and wooden pews caked in dust and cobwebs. As the images become clearer, the camera begins to zoom in towards the front, where a figure is kneeling before a small altar, hands clasped together as if actively praying. The room is very dark, save for two lit candles resting on the altar. Also resting on the altar is a framed picture of Dulce Torres, along with a small make-up mirror, which has a large crack running down the very middle. The left side of the mirror is clearly visible, but the right side is scratched and scuffed up, nearly obscuring any reflection. Once the camera focuses on the back of the kneeling figure and the altar up close, the figure raises up her head, looking at the mirror, the left side showing the reflection of Morrighan McDonnell. She appears to have an emotionless look frozen on her face, as she begins to speak, never turning around towards the now-still camera.

"At first glance, it appears that degenerate junkie Liara Lawson got the best of me...Is this the part where I start with the excuses? Is it this moment, on camera, where I try to ponder my many misfortunes lately? Should I just accept that, without the Banshee, I'm nothing? At first glance, that's what the evidence appears to show... until you see past the facade, and realize that it's all been misdirection!"

A flash of anger crosses Morrighan's reflected face, as the right side of the mirror begins to show bits and pieces, through the cracks and scratches, the unmistakable face of the Banshee, although the image continuously flickers due to the dim candlelight. Unnerved, Morrighan continues to talk directly to the mirror.

"Here I was, so wrapped up on proving that Morrighan is more than the Banshee, that I didn't really see what was going on... I missed the obvious clues... and furthermore, I used so much energy in suppressing the Banshee, that I held myself... no, that I held US BACK! That weak side of me, the one that craves acceptance and admiration, completely obliterated our focus, taking away our purpose in our pursuit of gold. "But Morrighan, what exactly do you mean? Are you making up excuses? Didn't you lose fair and square? Blah, blah, blah." We imagine that's what many of you idiots are saying, but the truth, for us, is so much darker and devious... And here we thought that we were the epitome of evilness on Odyssey. However, it all makes sense now: there's a conspiracy happening before your very eyes, being orchestrated by a woman who has become the embodiment of corruption... A woman who has her barking pets, Ashley Walker and Gia Cervantes, squawking away on commentary, using them to misdirect the fans, counting on them to tune in in order to see their "heroines" prevail over darkness... Not realizing, likely due to massive stupidity, that there is an active conspiracy against us... a conspiracy orchestrated by Viola DeMarco. She doesn't think Morrighan McDonnell can sell merchandise... she doesn't believe that the Banshee could draw a single dollar with a green crayon... because we don't represent her idealistic upper-echelon of "Goddesses." Unfortunately for her, and consequently, the entire Odyssey roster... we are no longer "blind" to the truth, and soon, the entire "truth" will be fully revealed... But there are more immediate matters that require our full attention... and that's our next opponent: Dulce Torres."

Although Morrighan's face is still being shown via the mirror, she turns her gaze towards the framed 8X10 photo of Dulce Torres. Her lips quiver in rage as she silently seethes to herself, before speaking again, her voice taking on an angry tone dripping with hints of sarcasm.

"If you expect us to kiss your ass by singing your praises, exactly like what the GM, the fans, the commentators, and even half the damn locker room all do to you, then you're in for one of many disappointments. Ever since our arrival, you've been the "face" of the company, a bona fide, high pedigree champion worshipped by the fans... After all, as an example of your extreme vanity, you go by such nicknames like "The Silent Goddess" or "The Beacon of Hope." Who do you give hope to, we wonder? Do you give hope to all the pretty little princesses wearing your t-shirt, inspiring them to work hard so that they can be just like you? And they accuse us of being wicked! You're nothing more than a false prophet, a fact that we will testify to personally when we face off on Atlantis. Yes, it's disappointing being left off Boiling Point, but we've come to expect that now. However, being left off a major card must be such a new experience for you, "The Originator," the girl that headlines every PPV! We've only been able to get on the card for one PPV, and that was due to... surprise, surprise, a win that we secured on... ATLANTIS! As we already mentioned, we know that Viola is going to go to great lengths to protect her main eventers, because it’s the more dangerous folk that often find themselves on the outside, looking in... Folk just like us... But she can't protect you, her favorite "cash cow," forever... We're not leaving anything to chance. We've scouted you. We've analyzed every move that you like to pull off in the ring, all that razzle dazzle to please your misguided fan base! However, be wary if you attempt your usual flips, because instead of hitting your moves, you'll be getting a hard punch in the guts instead... We've prepared a counter for every kick, a reversal for every grapple... We will expose the flaws in your unorthodox offense! We're not looking to "put on a show..." we don't care if the fans get their money's worth... viewership ratings mean nothing to us!"

Morrighan flashes a smile to herself through the mirror, appearing to be almost pleased by her words. She then returns her gaze back to the photo, though the anger in her voice has faded into a more sinister and deviant tone.

"When are you gonna just admit, that you're nothing more than a wannabe deity? That the great Dulce Torres is nothing more than a blasphemy against real fighters like Morrighan McDonnell!?! Do you think that we actually buy your whole "goody little two-shoes" act? All you seem to do is drone on and on about how awesome you are, listing off your title reigns and achievements every time someone sticks a mic in your face, not realizing that you just sound like some whiny, arrogant, petulant little princess... Oh yeah, that's right... we're so sorry, a thousand apologies for what we just said, because you don't consider yourself a "princess..." after all, you said it yourself, you're a goddamn goddess, right? Being a "princess" is too human for your entitled ass, as all these idiots around here continues to build monuments and shrines in your honor... Shall we continue? You actually talked about how no one deserves to go through a "championship drought," as if not holding a belt is the same thing as feeling dehydrated in a desert! That's easy for a teacher's pet like you to say, since your titles were gift-wrapped for you by our all-mighty corrupted GM, and then served up to you on a silver platter, likely to match the silver spoon that you were born with!

Morrighan pauses for a second, her jaw firmly clenched, as her rage begins boiling over. After taking a few more seconds to collect herself, Morrighan resumes speaking, though the anger in her voice is louder than before, along with some heavy sarcasm as well.

"Can you honestly answer this one, and only one, question? Why do you continue the ruse? Why do you keep pretending to be the heroine, when in truth, you're really the villain in the story? Are you just a sentient puppet who doesn't realize that her strings are being pulled? You love to drone on and on and on about hard work, being yourself, setting an example, not knowing that you sound like an after-school PSA: "Hey kiddos, it's Dulce Torres. Drink lots of milk, don't do drugs, hold hands while crossing the street." Well, in preparation of our match, let me offer you some counter-advice: wash down a bunch of painkillers with some lactose-free milk, then ask all your followers to hold hands while they pray for you, because we're not "just another opponent." Don't become fixated on your past, or even our past, because it doesn't matter what happened yesterday, or last week, and so on... What you should be worried about is what's gonna happen in the future, especially your future... because when we meet for the first time on Atlantis, we're gonna to physically maim you so bad that you may no longer have a future..."

Morrighan's eyes narrow as she continues to stare at the framed photo, a wicked smile spreading from cheek to cheek. She picks up the photo with her left hand, bringing it closer to her but otherwise not moving from her position facing the mirror, as the camera continues to focus on the same fixed shot. Suddenly, Morrighan punches the photo with her right hand, shattering the glass as she fiercely grabs the glossy photo, quickly crumpling it up into a wadded ball. She then holds it over one of the candles, setting the photo on fire while not appearing to react to the heat or any pain caused by the fire. She then drops the flaming paper onto the altar, watching as it quickly melts into charred bits. She then turns her gaze back to the mirror, speaking once again.

"While watching one of your recent promos, we noticed that you stated that you, the "Immaculate" Dulce Torres, didn't want to be anyone's "feel-good" victory. For what it's worth, it won't be a victory that'll "feel good" to us... instead, it'll be your utter humiliation, as we finally cast you out of Mt. Olympus back down to Earth, amongst the mortals that you claim to love but secretly despise... But we're not finished yet. We're gonna make you feel emotions that you've never felt in the ring before... fear.... dread.... anxiety... and most importantly.... hopelessness, because when you step face-to-face against the Wraith of the Ring, you'll quickly find out that you have no hope of overcoming us... we will clutch you by the throat as we drag you down to Hell, finally exposing the "Counterfeit Artist" Dulce Torres. Too long have you considered us beneath you, but Viola can't save you this time... We guess the one question you must still have is this: who exactly will you be facing? Morrighan McDonnell, or the Banshee? Allow us to answer that clearly: BOTH OF US! We are united in purpose, and vigorously renewed with motivation. On Atlantis, the entire world will see a battered, broken, and bloody "Goddess" crumpled up in a sad heap at our feet! On Atlantis, everyone gets to witness the "Beacon of Hope" getting snuffed out like a dying candle! See you soon, "Originator." See you very soon..."

Morrighan, using both hands, pinches out the flames on the candles. As the flames go out, the mirror quickly lights up, showing the full visage of the Banshee's face, before the image goes into complete darkness. When the image is engulfed in darkness, a loud and sinister laugh is heard before the feed is cut.

Re: OWA Promos July 12th 2020, 12:06 am by **Gwen Harper**

Atlantis:Meltdown 1

Let 'Er Rip

Soft shallow breaths are heard as the camera starts to come into focus. In focus is the tip of an arrow, and its shaft. Off the end of the arrow, blurred out in the distance, a row or targets can be seen. Gwen’s voice comes over the sound.

Gwen: Rebecca, that was a fight now wasn’t it? But I told you, and the world that I would be walking out with my hand raised. But it wasn’t without effort yanno? You took my best shots and gave me several of your own. Just wasn’t in the cards for ya that night hun. Don’t let it break you though. You’re tough as nails yanno? Course, this win was all well and good but as soon as I get to the back I’m told about the next Atlantis. Meltdown its called, the precursor for Boiling Point. And me well, I’m in a battle royal, almost twenty of us in the ring at once, with the goal of eliminating everyone else from the ring. Over the top and all that. And well Rebecca, that means we have to cross paths yet again yanno. Which wont end any different for you, I’m afraid. Nope I gots to keep my sights forward. So that means over the top you go. Its not personal though, never has been, I just can’t let you get in my way.

The Arrow slides back as you can hear Gwen hold her breath. Briefly you can see the edges of the composite bow and Gwen’s hand holding it in place. The Bow steadies and then like a flash the arrow is let loose. The camera speed through the air on the back of the arrow as the blurred targets get rapidly closer before there is a soft thud like sound, the camera shakes violently before coming back into focus, the arrow is buried in a target, but it isn't a bullseye that Gwen has shot at. No, the arrow is embedded right in the chest of Rebecca Brookes’ Picture. Suddenly a hand reaches in and pulls the arrow out. Clearly being walked back to the area it was shot from, Gwen begins speaking again.

Gwen: There have already been some people running their mouths about this match already too. Some these folks I don’t even know. Someone like a Mark Michaels. This man, has seemingly done it all..outside of OWA. He likes to look into his past, remind the world of what he has done, blame others for his loses here. Mark, the only person you can blame is you. Yea your partner may have been pinned but don’t that mean your job was to save em from that fate? You bring up your stamina and your training and how your gonna kick everyones ass cause you have done it before. Well hun, all that means squat once your in the sights of the huntress. Trust me I don’t have to run after you to take my shot.

The second arrow is released and zips through the air and the soft thunk is heard again. As the camera comes into focus this time on a portrait of Mark Michaels, again a shot through the heart. Once more Gwen comes and retrieves the arrow as she begins speaking.

Gwen: There are more familiar faces in this battle as well. Like Devi Krysis. Who knows first hand how hard the buckshot hits. Dear wolfie has had a bad run of luck in her first weeks here ain't she folks? Yanno, I got a cousin who sells lucky rabbits feet. Wont help you this week but sure to come in handy down the line. Bad lucks gonna follow you to Atlantis though, cause you’re commin’ up against me again. And while we on that topic of past wins, we also have Azurine Vebbins. Now Imma start with saying this about the Adorkable one. All you Yokels slamming back words about how someone talking, imma shut each and every one you sum-bitches up. You’re world renown talent out here with nothing better to do than slap gums about how someone speaks. You need a lesson in respect right fast. So don't worry Azurine, each of em gonna pay for them running their mouths about that. However, that's as far as any help goes, cause you dear are in the way otherwise and well, I just cant let you stay there. So either before or after those imbeciles get shut up, you’re gonna have to get tossed as well.

Gwen firing of a bow is heard and then the arrow with the camera rises up and quickly is fired as well. When the camera comes into focus this time there are two arrows in view as the portrait has a picture of Devi and Azurine on it. Both arrows are dead center in their victims chest. The camera arrow gets plucked again as Gwen returns to speaking.

Gwen: Now I know there have been others talking. I heard the..words..Ok yall look. Udy creeps me out alright. I’m not gonna lie. He is something weird, maybe crazy. Talks about encroaching doom, and other nonsense. Look its simple, if he gets in my way I'm going to strike him down. He

calls himself the Infernal Beast. Well that suits me just fine. I love hunting wild beasts. Maybe when I skin this cat, I’ll add his pelt to my smock. He talks about demons inside us all ready to fight. I don’t need no demon in me. I have plenty of fight on my own and I'm not running from whatever you bring to that ring. Hell maybe I do have some dark entity in my soul, maybe that's why I crave the hunt. I'm already deadly Udy, you want to unlock darkness in me go right ahead. Then you can go tell what, or who ever Kalki is that you messed on up. See you don't want a dark huntress on your tail Udy a normal one already is going to take you down.

The soft thump of the bow releasing an arrow is heard and then the camera mounted arrow slides into view of the bow again. As Gwen talks more.

Gwen: There are so many in this match I don’t know… Ryo Sakazaki, Theodor Pavel, Oliver Harpe, Bada Dik Baap, Alexander King, Daniel Horror, Revy, Mizuko Nishiyama, Jacob Nighttime, And Jack Dio. Now I took time to look into each of you. Like Nighttime, who shows up all big and bad to just be made a fool of. And then there is Revy and Mizuko. They got ties to the Kingdom Champ, and Revy knows how to light up a room, with a flashbang. Lets hope she keeps those at home. Not that I need to see to take someone like her down. Im sure her scent would be more than enough to find her. Some of you I just got a glimpse of. Ryo, looks to be somewhat of a big deal, someone I am gonna watch out for. Maybe I can keep him occupied by bringing in some fresh meat for him to cook. Pavel, looks to have fame in MMA, but is riding the coat tails of Branch Morgan, who has held some world titles..somewhere? Well I can deal with Pavel in the ring. I can work my way out of a submission or two if needed, but if the former...champ...sticks his nose in my business well, I will just take him out too.

Gwen's hand comes into focus as she lights the end of the arrow on fire and keeps talking.

Gwen: Oliver Harpe looks like he can hold his own. He was in prison afterall. But he hasn't been hired by anyone in this match that I know about. So why is he even in it? Don't worry I know. You don't have to be paid to want status. And well more jobs will come your way if you win right? To bad I am in this match though Oliver. I'm the one walking out of Atlantis a number 1 contender. You will just go over the top like everyone else. King, Horror...ok...one change your last name. The eighties want it back. Other than that this is just the wrong match for either of you to debut in. Look yanno good and well, debuts in a battle royal wont end well for you. So just, well give the folks a show just know your not the ones to win ok? Bada, I give you like 5 minutes tops in this thing. Noone likes cowards who hide behind guns and bombs and threats and well, I have a feeling be it me or anyone else, your gonna go out early and hard. No two ways about it.

The flaming arrow shoots out and the arrow comes to a rest with a satisfying shunk of a sound. The camera shakes briefly then comes into view. A group photo of everyone mentioned comes into view, the arrow had pierced dead center of the group and the portrait is engulfed quickly by the flames. This time the camera blinks out and a new perspective is shown. Gwen is taking a drink from a bottle of water and has sat her bow down and has taken a seat on a stump as she looks up into the camera.

Gwen: Look, this isn't for show yanno? It takes skill, talent, hard work to take the shots I am willing to take. I’m not just sitting here saying my aim is deadly and my sights are set cause its a gimmick. I take a whoppin’ when needed and dish it right back. That's why I am so intrigued by Maelstrom. Guy knows how to take a lick and still keep going. Made a name for himself in SSW doing just that from what I know. It’s rare for someone to dish and take as much damage as I can in that ring. Its a fight I want to have. I want to know who is better. Can he survive the Buckshot? No one else has up to this point. Will the mothman take him away? I am excited about this one! Lets just hope for her sake. That little wife of his stays out of the firing range. Would hate for her to get hurt and all.

Gwen takes another swig of her water and runs her fingers back through her hair.

Gwen: This Atlantis is no different for me, I'm coming there to get my Fix. I need a hit...I have to win. That's what Liara wants the world to think. Hun, yeah it always feels good to win, but I have had my ass kicked enough to know what losin’ feels like. And its a shame you would rather worry about that instead of getting a drink before hand. Hell you party as hard as I think you do we could have a pretty good time.

Gwen winks at the Camera.

Gwen: Hell you talk about my wins and girl look at you. You have been winning and winning and winning too. We both got some serious momentum on our sides as we run full steam into this cluster of a match yanno? Hell on the far side of it, we might even be able to be friends. Well that is if you don’t take offense to me aiding you out of the ring one time. Cause that's whats gonna happen and I do not need to sneak or stalk you to know that outcome. No I know whats in store, I can hunt and I can scrap with the best of em. We gonna throw down for sure in that match and its gonna be a blast hun. Just remember when all is said and done and your looking up from ringside to see me, my hand raised. Its because you wanted that same thing, but you couldn't get through me to do it.

Gwen leans back tying her hair into a pony tail and picking up a camo hat and putting it on her head.

Gwen: And all of this is for one thing. The OWA Openweight Championship. Or rather, a shot at becoming that champion. And the thing is, we wont know who we are facing till after boiling point. The current champ Baba Yaga has to defend it against this other man named The Vincent, which is bad news. This man is part of Ashes of the Wake. Honestly they may make sure he walks out the new champ. But either way, be it Yaga or Vinnie. It wont matter. I'm going to eliminate all of the people in my way at Atlantis. Now I know I won’t do it alone. I wont make every elimination in the match. But The Appalachian Huntress will make the most important elimination, the last one. And once I do I am putting the champ on notice. Im not going to Atlantis just to show my face. I am going to Atlantis Meltdown to throw down. I will bash in any skull I need to in order to walk out of there the next Openweight contender. I am ready, begging for this fight. So guys, gals, beats and demons, be ready. Be able to fight for your very lives because this Huntress is putting a dagger through your hearts to take that win. And the best part is, I’m gonna have fun doing it. When all is said and done. Gwen Harper walks away with trophy kill.

Gwen stands up from the stump and picks up her bow. She leans down and plucks an arrow from several she has propped up beside her.

Gwen: See you all in Mexico City, and don’t worry, I’m leaving the bow at home. But the fight, that's coming to all Yall! See ya there!

When turns away from the camera taking aim with her bow at a large target in the distance. She takes her shot as the camera starts to fade to black. The last image you see is a dead on bullseye where the arrow hits.

Re: OWA Promos July 11th 2020, 11:54 pm by Mr.Horror

Daniel Horror is in the workshop on his basement.

It seems that no one know me yet... so let me introduce to you, who am I.

I am "The Violent Personified" "The Daredevil" and "The Risk-Taker"... Daniel Horror!!

I am the guy who just come here to make chaos and go after everyone to be the center of the attention. and next week at Atlantis : Meltdown, at opening battle royal match for a chance for Openweight championship.

Everyone seems to pick their favorite but... they will realize that their favorite will not win that match.

He picks the switchblade

As I'm going to cut every single one of them down at Battle Royal and claim the chance for my own. and The only thing left to say...is

I

Hope

You

Suffer

Re: OWA Promos July 11th 2020, 8:26 pm by **Darkane**

Common courtesy is a real rarity these days, granted, I’m no paragon of virtue but the lack of respect in today’s society is demoralizing as a whole. Cancel culture this, cancel culture that, everybody’s so quick to point the finger without reason, without substance, without evidence, without anything remotely credible to back up their asinine claims but still, through the fire and the flames they get their way via mob mentalities, rallying cries and forced viewpoints. Call me a boomer, call me a disgusting sleazebag without a sense of morality or inherent decency but you know what? I hope you’re offended, I hope you take it to heart, I hope you self-destruct and spontaneously combust right before my fucking eyes. I hope you’re triggered, I hope everything you value dies a slow excruciating death. If the shoe was on the other foot, you’d realize the error of your ways but you won’t, you’ll always be ready with pitchforks in hand and labels to stamp on people who disagree with you. People like me who don't adhere to the hand holding circle jerk fluffy spined standards that this shitty country has reduced itself too. I still dress like it’s 1994, I still smoke in restaurants, I still drink to comatose even when the bartender says “look, buddy, I think you’ve had enough.” I still believe in brothels and prostitution rings. I still believe that women like Nyx would be better off spraying down tables and organizing menus in a fashionable order at Denny's if nothing else but to brighten her day. I still believe Tarah Nova is a deathmatch phony who uses her new GM position to veil the cold hard truth that she got absolutely murked and humiliated by an actual deathmatch god.

So if you have an issue with the way I carry out my business whether it’s down here in Meh-he-co or over in Japan then you can kiss my ass, although I might have to pump the breaks a little bit as they breed like rabbits down here south of the border but who am I to ever take guardianship of an offspring anyway?

Exactly.

I’m sure I have a few mini Darkane’s scampering around the alleyways of these backward slums. I never said I was picky but I at least have the common courtesy to tell them that they’re strictly a means to an end while I’m seven and a half inches deep and if they end up lining themselves up in front of an oncoming train all I can say is good riddance. Admittedly as bad as I treat women and deservedly so none of them openly detest me as much as Gareth Cason’s camp. The constant heckling, the death threats, the shitposts, and everything in between is a culmination of every last ounce of pent up aggression that oozes from their pores. I’ve never seen such a hostile assemblage of I’ll-cut-myself-for-you-Gareth diehard worshipers weep at this man’s stroke of misfortune. You’d think by now after the repeated slaughterings of their golden boy they would get the fucking picture but they’ll march into the mouth of war and take a bullet for him every single time won’t they, but what are they going to do after I emasculate his bitchass one last time and turn him into a fucking shopping cart? What are they going to do when I’m hammering down the final nail to his coffin? Who are they going to latch onto next? Who’s the next sucker they'll bandwagon for huh? Fucking leeches. His fifteen seconds of fame are over. Boiling Point is the equivalent to beating a dead horse into nothing but smithereens. His fanbase has no other alternative than to cross their fingers and hope Gareth doesn’t die but I already assassinated him weeks ago.

They just haven’t accepted it. They don’t want to.

The man is in shambles.

The haunting look of dejection and self-doubt radiating in his eyes, the patchwork scars that envelop his body, the tears that rush down his face every time he shits himself silly in his bedpan tells a dolorous story of a man who once believed himself to be invincible in and legit dangerous in every way was swiftly neutered; his balls hacked off and stuffed down his gullet by the one man he shouldn’t have fucked with. This image that OWA fans around the world carry around of Gareth is hyperbole due to the man’s innate ability to strike terror and dread in his adversaries. He got away with it. He used it to mask the chinks in his armor and it worked for a long time, too long in fact. Once word got around to my ear that this man across the planet was on a warpath, I had to put down my chopsticks and see it for myself, needless to say, I was let down in spades. Gareth is like one of those bullshit food advertisements you catch on every other billboard. It looks divine, mouth-watering, and could feed an army of men yet when you finally unwrap that sucker on your dinner plate, it’s a sloppy half-assed fucking mess with a day old bun and a mealy tomato put together by men and women that have less to live for than Gareth himself if you can believe such a thing.

I wanted you to BE something Gareth.

Something fresh, something enticing.

Instead, I cast my line into the freshwater and reeled in another Tarah. Useless. Catch and release.

Why Gareth? Why couldn’t you live up to the hype? Why couldn’t you deliver the goods? Why did you stomp your feet to piss and moan instead of manning up and putting forth a herculean effort? Why didn’t you at least, for your dignity’s sake if nothing else, put up a fight for Christ’s sake?

You’re an abject failure in every conceivable way that’s why.

Once I brought the inferno to your doorstep, you didn’t know whether to shit or wind your wrist watch because YOU paraded around the locker room with too much moxie and you were never held accountable for it; that’s until I arrived. Only then did you shrink into a pea-sized invertebrate with nowhere to run or nowhere to hide and now, now you’re in a conundrum where you’re FORCED to wheel your ass out to Boiling Point which is essentially the gallows where every last Gareth Cason stan will watch you perish under the shadow of my boot. Everybody and their mother knows that this is like taking candy from a baby. Even your rabid followers will soon realize that you’re shoveling shit against the tide when you step into MY fucking deathmatch domain and into MY wheelhouse where your soul will singe under the Mexican sun when I separate your skin from bone one final time and why is that?

Because I’m in control.

I own you Gareth.

I have since day one.

And nobody can take you away from me.

Tell me, tell me with the utmost conviction and passion (if there’s any left in the well), how does it feel to know that I am your master? How does it feel when you close your eyes in the dark and see nothing but Darkane in your nightmares? How does it feel knowing that you’re not good enough anymore? That everything you’ve amassed in your career came down to one man defecating on your career and now what? Where do you go from here? If you think Boiling Point will be your last hoorah and your saving grace then you’re in for a rude awakening. I’m going to make sure that you don’t walk out of Boiling Point on a pair of legs let alone your own two feet and if you’re not incapacitated by the end of the night, if you’re not sipping dank sewer water through a paper straw, if your heart isn’t palpitating at a million miles a minute while you’re hooked up on tangled IVs and a shady pulse monitor that won’t stop beeping in a torturous Mexican hospital room filled to the brim with cockroaches, Spanish soap operas on a ten-inch tube TV and some greasy fat tub of shit foaming out of the mouth behind the curtain next to you, then I will consider it a failure.

I’ll be at peace when you’re at full unequivocal unrest.

It wasn’t enough to plant the seed at Hardcore Havoc.

It wasn’t enough to spike your skull onto a thousand thumbtacks the following week.

It wasn’t enough to turn OWA on its ass and put you down one, two, three under deathmatch rules in my illustrious debut.

It’s safe to say that Gareth will walk into Boiling Point without a point, or a purpose for that matter. He’ll march down the aisle at the speed of the dead, he’ll slither inside of the ring but he won’t have the heart to look me in the eye, nah; because I will have already slushed it around in my mouth; in between my rotting, pearly yellows and hocked it out like tobacco juice into a spittoon. When the bell finally rings, when the pride of Mexico chants his name, he won't rise to the occasion, he won’t have a sudden surge of energy. He’ll simply self-destruct and collapse into meaty blocks until there’s nothing left but the blood that stains the mat.

This will be my crowning achievement. This will be my magnum opus where everyone in OWA will open their eyes and witness the fucking annihilation of Gareth Cason first hand. Where the burning question on everyone’s tongue is finally answered; if Gareth isn’t the most dangerous force in OWA, then who is?

You’re looking at him.

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

Re: OWA Promos July 11th 2020, 10:08 am by Liara

whoever said three's a crowd was full of shit
Atlantis: Meltdown #1

I think it's pretty safe to say that my OWA career, so far, has gone rather well. Everything's just coming up Millhouse. Another Odyssey, another win. Liara and Morrighan, a couple of the better newcomers to Odyssey, or so people claim... nah, she ain't in my league. I told her, I told all of you, then I showed everyone. Boom and the Banshee, or whatever the fuck, is Face Down in the Dirt. I told you that I wouldn't be letting you ruin my Independence Day party, and I'm nothing if not a woman of my word. There was just too much fun to be had for me to run the risk of you spoiling it.

Liara Lawson is Liara Lawson. No gimmicks, no bullshit, no compromising. I'm doing exactly what I said I was going to do. I've done it in singles, tags, six-mans, and it looks like I'm adding another one to the mix on Atlantis. And that's gonna take me to a shot at the Openweight Championship. See, there's a lot of people that look the part, and they talk the part, and hell, they can even take a few steps walking the part; but... then they work themselves into a position where there's expectations of them. They work themselves up into a position that they don't have the mental strength to cope with. And so they crumble under the pressure. Me though? Hell nah. That's not something I've ever had a problem with. I've been beat before, and no doubt will be again, but it sure as hell won't be because I've lost my nerve. It won't be 'cause I can't handle the big occasion. I live for that shit. I live to be up on that stage with the world watching. The buzz from the crowd singing and cheering your name is like nothing else. No drug comes close to match that, and believe me, I've tried to find one that does.

I came to OWA a few short months ago with the goal of proving myself in the big leagues. Proving that a fucking debauchee like me can rise up way beyond my station. It could be argued that maybe I'm a little biased here, but I happen to think that I've done a pretty good job at proving that already. Now what I want is a title before I'm even ten matches into my OWA career. And the first step on that Championship road will be on Friday, July 17, at Atlantis: Meltdown.

I've gone and found myself in a Battle Royal. A Battle Royale with cheese...

Anyway...

Eighteen people, by my count, and that's a hella lot of bodies in a very small space at the same time. Fortunately, that is something I have a lot of experience with. Man, whoever said three's a crowd was full of shit. I say, the more the merrier. But really, matches like this though, they're just a cluster fuck. You can't think up a plan for this shit, 'cause the second you turn around you get cracked in the back. You're trying to throw someone out, and instead of helping, someone else decides to throw you out instead. I don't mind a shit storm though, so it's all good. What else do you say about the match? What can you say, it's a battle royal. There is no grand plan to winning. A rumble? A rumble you got people coming and going, and you can pace shit out a bit. A battle royal's a whole other beast, man. Everyone almost on top of each other, limbs and bodies flying everywhere, and one false step... game over. So the only real strategy you can have is to make sure you don't make a false step. Grow eyes in the back of your head. Fortunately, I have great peripheral vision.

Normally you'd think a tag team would have bit of an advantage for the most part. Work together, clear everyone else out, then go at it. If you've got your friend in there with you, then you should at least be able to form a strategy. AK-47? Revy, Mizuko. You two are a couple of grade A idiots, and more than likely, you two are going to get yourselves eliminated by being a couple of grade A idiots. Man, I'll let a beer go warm before I let one of you two take a title opportunity away from me.

Maybe it's 'cause I've not been here long, but I gotta be honest, some of ya'll I still don't know. No offense or anything, but Bada Dik Baap? I'm sorry dude. Buuut, from looking at you; Bada Bing, you ain't clean. Bada Bing, you'd pass less drug tests than me. Bada Boom, over the top you go. From the little I do know though, you kinda cost Oliver Harpe on Kingdom, so I can't imagine that he'll be too happy with you. In fact, I expect that he'll probably beat the shit out of you, to be honest.

'cause that's your whole deal, isn't it Harpe? The hired gun, the prison thug? It seems to me, that you're basically a male Liara Lawson, if Liara Lawson went off the rails. Seems to me, that we had pretty fucking similar childhoods. Now I didn't particularly think that I'd ever been on the rails, but compared to you? Man, I'm a fucking... Saint. So while I was fucking and ducking, you beat down junkies in jail, well good for you. Really though, get the fuck out, I've had tougher steaks than you. Now don't get me wrong, I'd definitely put you in the upper echelons of this match. You'd be my pick over the likes of Vebbins and Bada Bing, but against me? Maybe not so much.

We've also got complete newcomers in here; man, this match has it all, doesn't it? Alexander King. Some fucking rich kid. I've never even heard your voice and I'm already sick of it. Opposites do not attract, that's a fucking ridiculous thing; they oppose, and push apart. I bet you think you own the fucking world, am I right? You're the snobby little bitch that thinks the rest of us are just the shit on your shoe, am I close? Well fuck you. Come Atlantis: Meltdown, I will get to see the bottle of your shoes, and it won't be from being kicked in the face. No, it'll be when I send you flying over the top rope, head first onto the floor. No amount of money's buying your way out of that.

Theodor Pavel. I seen your match on Kingdom. Was that a fan you beat? Some guy that won a competition? Brother, you're gonna have to work hell of a lot harder than that when you're in the ring with me. Not that you understand a word that I'm saying to you. I could be telling you anything right now, couldn't I? I could tell you that I had a threesome with your parents last night, and you'd be non-the-wiser. I didn't though, so it's fine. Well, not that I remember anyway.

And would you look at who else we've got, Azurine fucking Vebbins. Can I just be brutally honest with you? You annoy the shit out of me. Everything about you. Aren't you from LA? Why the fuck can't you speak properly? Even Google translate struggles with your shit, what the fuck man? And Queen. Fucking Queen. Fuck you for making people listen to them. Nothing made me happier than beating you in my debut. There's nothing adorable, or... fucking adorkable about you. And you know what? I fucking hate that word as well; Adorkable. Fucking adorkable. What the fuck? You're a nuisance, you're annoying, and I'm gonna smash your face into the mat, pick you up, and throw you out, 'cause the thought of you in a title match makes me sad. Very, very sad.

On the flip side, I say kudos to Devi Krysis for your honesty. You should be concerned about me. You seen me on Odyssey. You seen what I did to Morrighan, and you know what I can bring. I'll be honest back at ya, I feel a bit sorry for you. I think it's pretty bad luck that you drew the shortest straw that there is to draw when you got stuck teaming with Jacob Nighttime last week, so I'll keep my eye on you. You probably don't wanna be saying "fresh meat" when you're in a match against Gwen Harper though. I mean, she lives for that shit, with all her hunting and whatnot. Just thought I'd say.

But going back to Jacob Nighttime... yeah... yeeeeeah... I bet you all scoffed at Jacob. Maybe he's a big game player? Maybe he's saving his best for when it matters? Maybe he's just been going through the motions, and now he's gonna rock up to Meltdown and tear the house down.

Or maybe not.

Mark Michaels? Man, you talk hell of a lot for someone that doesn't actually say anything. You just ramble away don't ya? Between naps, I did listen to you thought, and I heard you saying "there’s not a man alive who would be willing to do push themselves harder", guess what? That suits me absolutely fine. Reason being, I could beat your ass... I don't know why I said 'could'. I will beat your ass, and if none of them men can push themselves as hard as you, and I'm just better than all the women, then it should be plain sailing for yours truly, no? You're right though, there's soooo many people just full of empty words. Empty threats and making promises that they simply cannot back up. Shit, take you for example. You're gonna be last man standing, hand raised in victory? Not happening, I'm afraid. You're a big, strong dude, but I'm quicker than you, smarter than you, and more agile than you. So all your strength? Don't count for shit if you can't catch me, and it counts for even less when you're lying on the outside after I've thrown your ass out. Thanks for coming Mark, and good luck trying to find that first win. You're gonna need it.

Some else that's been talking is The Udy. You're my conscience? Well joke's on you buddy, 'cause I don't have one. And you can talk of suicide missions, but my whole life's been one long suicide mission. So as far as these missions go, believe me, you are way down there on the list of my concerns. But you, you Udy; or do you prefer The Udy? Either way, you are exactly the sort of person I was talking about earlier. You talk the talk, but I just know that you ain't gonna do a damn thing in this match. Chaos is gonna ensue, there'll be bodies everywhere, I'll be in my element, and you'll be spinning around wondering what the fuck is going on - then Jacob Nighttime, or some such, will probably throw you out. Maybe when Devi, when you're trying to give her your "special attention". Yeah, I know what those words mean, big boy.

There are a few in there though; a few that I gotta keep my eye on. You see, contrary to popular belief, I'm not arrogant enough to believe that I'm the only one in with a shot at winning this thing. Okay, okay, I can be pretty cocky, you got me - guilty as charged, but Jesus Christ I'm not fucking deluded. Maelstrom. Gwen Harper. Rebecca Brookes. Ryo Sakazaki. They've all got a shot. There's a lot of talent in one ring.

Rebecca Brookes, first. Straight up? I like you, and I think you're going places. It just won't be at Meltdown. Sorry, but I can't let that happen. You and Gwen Harper put on hella match on Odyssey, and both of you are big reasons in the fact I'm taking this match seriously. Rebecca, you're big, you're strong, you're just all around good, and let's not beat around the bush here; you're one of the favourites for this thing. Now, to me, that means that I gotta take you out, 'cause I don't trust anyone else enough to get the job done on you. Sure Gwen just beat you, but on another night that match goes your way, so yeah... you're gonna be feeling my fists on your face.

Who else we got? How about the person that beat Rebecca; Gwen Harper. Man, you're just picking up win after win, ain't you? And not against scrubs either, so credit to you. Oh, and you like to drink too, so that's another tick in your box. But be all that as it may, you're about to experience the feeling of not having your hand raised at the end of a match. Now whether someone would consider it a defeat is up to them, but the point remains that for the first time in your OWA career, you won't be winning. See, as good as the people you've beat are, they aren't me - they're not Liara Lawson. You said that winning's an addiction, and it is; that buzz when you get your hand raised, there's not much like it. Come Atlantis: Meltdown, the world's gonna witness the beginning of your withdrawals. You see Gwen, you can track me down, hunt me as much as your heart desires, but when you think you got that perfect shot all lined up, and you're pulling the bowstring back, hushed slow breaths, your heart thumping in your chest... I'll know you're there. I'll see you coming. Baby, I'm nobody's prey.

Or if you want the TL;DR? There's some good, some bad, and some ugly in this match. But as good as the good are, they ain't me, 'cause I'm fucking Saint. Baba Yaga, The Vincent, I hope you both plan on watching and taking notes, 'cause I'm coming for one of you.

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

Boiling Point Promo #1 - Class Struggle

"Stand up, all victims of oppression

For the tyrants fear your might!

Don’t cling so hard to your possessions,

For you have nothing if you have no rights!"

We open on a shot of a vintage brown record player on a small table as it continues to softly play the Billy Bragg rendition of "The Internationale." As the music plays, the camera slowly pans out to reveal what appears to be a study. A fire can be heard gently crackling offscreen, providing a warm glow to the room. On the shelves that line the walls are countless novels and books, and above the record player lies a painting of a red rose with the Ashes of the Wake insignia marked upon it. We then begin to pan over to the right to reveal Jacob Knight sitting in a velvet-cushion chair facing an open fireplace. On the left armrest of the chair sits a copy of "Das Kapital" by Karl Marx and in his right hand a small picture of his Boiling Point opponent and Spartan Champion, Arata Asakura.

"I don’t believe my dearest comrade, The Vincent, knows how thankful I am for the gift he gave me this past Atlantis. Not only do I get to prove myself worthy of a place among my fellow revolutionaries, but I get to even the score against the Shogun and secure gold for the Ashes of the Wake. Then again, perhaps I already had proven myself this last Kingdom when I burned the flesh of this Golden Dragon. The very same dragon who boldly claimed I was a coward. I certainly hope those burns to his face will help remind him otherwise."

He leans forward in his chair and briefly sticks a corner of the photo into the flames, the fire catching and slowly burning into the picture. He lets it get close to Arata’s figure before blowing it out with a grin.

"I can only imagine the questions everyone had on their minds after that hellacious battle. ‘How could you do such a thing? Have you no shame? Why didn’t you do that to Jeff X? Don’t you hate him more? Why would you do that to Arata!?’"

He lets out a grim chuckle at the thought as he shakes his head.

"Believe me, I have plenty of disdain for old Jeffrey, that shit-spewing, patronizing bastard who thinks he has any sort of authority over the younger talent in this company. The other man who questioned my killer instinct… There is a reason why I didn’t hit him with that bat two Kingdoms ago but that is for another time. This was a much more distinctive and much more necessary choice. One I do not regret."

He looks down at the picture as if he were facing Arata in the flesh.

"Arata, do you want to know why I decided to reserve that fireball for you? Why I took so much joy in nearly blinding you in the center of that ring? Why I feel no remorse for my actions? It’s quite simple, really. It’s not just because I hate you, but I despise what you represent: “The Self-Made Man.” A vile, repulsive, and wicked title that you wear as a badge of honor. Now, there is no doubt that there is something to be admired about those who succeed through their individual merits. The effort they put into their work, the sacrifices they make, all of it just to go from being nobody into somebody, it’s truly fascinating. And you certainly are somebody, aren’t you, Arata? Competing for titles around the world, wearing fancy suits, enjoying the lifestyles of Japan's rich and famous; you fit the mold quite nicely... But as admirable their efforts may be, it doesn’t erase this crucial fact: like Zuckerberg, Musk, Bloomberg, and, most of all, Bezos have proven... any “Self-Made Man” becomes an enemy of the people. Once they reach an extraordinary level of prosperity, they turn their backs on their humble beginnings and begin to focus their efforts on ways to maintain the status quo by any means necessary and with little care for who they exploit and screw over in the process. They profit as the men and women below them struggle to make ends meet! They thrive as they prevent their workers from unionizing for their rights and fair share! They refuse to rock the boat when progress is desperately needed, just like you! You, Arata, embody all of the evils of the social-climbing bourgeoisie just as well as you embody the good and, to me, that is what stands out! The hatred for what you stand for outweighs my disgust for Jeff and his patronization of younger talent! The fact that you embrace that moniker with all of that in mind makes me sick!"

The man is red in the face from anger but suddenly, the look on his face changes from one of rage to one nearly unable to hold back a laugh.

"And yet... it is somehow appropriate that you hold that championship. A title named after the Spartans, whose only purpose was to ferociously and brutally fight and die for the state and for their king. After the last few weeks, it is clear where your allegiance lies and who you serve. It’s not really with the rest of the roster, it’s not with the fans, it’s with your fellow elitist pigs on this “OWA Frontline” and in management. How else would you be able to arrange for Shogun Rules for your defense against Maverick without his input? You must have learned the proper things to say to Oasis from your buddy Michael Bishop, but I guess this time it wasn’t enough. This time, no Shogun Rules, no fireballs, just wrestling, and yet you think I stand no chance because I lack talent? Winning this match is not going to take talent like some goddamn ballet competition. Winning this match is going to take undying resilience and brute force; attributes that a true Spartan Champion should embody, attributes that I have proven to have in my arsenal, attributes I intend to display when we finally stand face-to-face. Because while this match means nothing more to you than a ‘free defense’ and a chance to beat up a ‘coward,’ this means the world to me!"

He glances at the book under his left arm as his voice changes tone from anger to stern and cold.

"This match is more than just a match for the Spartan Championship to me, Arata. This match is more than just a chance to prove myself to the Ashes, the company, and the wrestling world. This match is class struggle. This match is a microcosm of the world Marx and Engels envisioned. Capitalist vs Marxist. A champion of the establishment versus a champion of the coming insurrection, who will go on to break the chains the world has placed upon him and overcome the forces of greedy capitalists like you who stand in our way."

He looks back into the flames before leaning forward and sticking the photo in again, this time letting the flames slowly burn through the image of the “Self-Made Man.”

"You’ve already gotten a feel for the flames of revolution, Arata, but come Boiling Point, I will make sure you are engulfed by them until there is nothing left of you."

Before the flames can make contact with his fingers, he blows out the flame as the camera cuts to black.

Re: OWA Promos July 11th 2020, 7:25 am by **Alyssa Grace**

When you light a candle, you also cast a shadow.

Revolution.

There will always be an opposition to this mandate, for many want to change the notion, build a new future and witness the current one disappear like ash. We as women in wrestling have found ourselves as objects, yet we are the only ones that can bring forth the penultimate form of this creation, and still, for others, who would rather accept the plate of cold food given to them, famished in their own pretence of hate and despair, they devour it quickly without stopping for any length of time and looking back as to why. It's nothing new. The hawks of desperate men and women who look to insert themselves into a position of dominance by diminishing another. Competitors who operate under the sole belief that if they can establish speaking points as to why they’re more talented, more intelligent, and despite what may have happened in the past, will conquer the adversity that now seeks to march them down and once again trample their hopes of ever becoming more than the undistinguished bums that they are. As I’ve said, it’s nothing special, nor is it surprising in the least. “You’re beneath me!” “I lost then, but I won’t now!” It’s all the same. The avoidance of accepting any real responsibility as to why you may have failed time and time again is a path I’ve seen so many wander, and will undoubtedly continue to see in the near future.

The Void want to create, they want to be the creators of a revolution to be exact. I'll give credit where credit it due, in some ways, The Void have succeeded in certain parts of their aim, their mission to cleanse this division hasn't been completely pointless, yet. I mean, you mention the Void and most heads are turned, most legs begin to shake and fear begins to settle in. Emphasis on the keyword: most. Collectively they've done what not everyone can do, make a name for themselves. But, just because not everyone who saunters into this business doesn't last more than a week or two, it doesn't mean making a name for yourself is relatively difficult. Aria Jaxon has set standards, Dulce Torres a bar, Tarah Nova a culture all within the confines of the Umbrella of OWA. Let me be perfectly honest for a moment, I could see myself getting behind the Void's message to some extent if it was required, if it was necessary but take a look, a good, hard look at the women's division right now and then look me in the eyes and say it's faulty. One can't do that. I may be a little bias as a representative of the Odyssey brand but I truly believe that it's stacked with talent, there's so many different types of women here who can do so many different things and whilst some similarities are unavoidable, I don't believe anyone is a replica of anyone else. Hell, even the Void aren't all completely the same. Individuality is what makes this business so great and it's a pleasure to work alongside a variety of different competitors, if, the Void's takeover were to come to fruition, I think I'd rip my eyelashes out because I don't want to live in a world where you can't be who you are without scrutiny from anyone, let alone a group of glorified high-school bullies. In the society that Eris, Nyx, Selene and Artemis look to build, there'll always be one force that looks to seek and destroy. That person right now, is me. Label me whatever you want, a desolate to the normality you want to build as it'll bring you peace in happiness. Perhaps my motivations here are purely selfish, perhaps I'm just doing this just because I don't want my reign to end this soon and I have greater things planned for myself down the road or perhaps I'm doing it for the quote on quote greater good, perhaps I'm fighting this fight so everyone can see that the bad guys don't always have to win and as cliche as the narrative may be, light triumphs darkness in the end. I was given the opportunity to create, originally to create something beautifully unique when I captured this championship and I simply demolished the walls of expectancy that were around me to erect them back up in my own image, and I know it could come tumbling right back down in an instance come Boiling Point, which is why Nyx, you may think yourself as the prey but I have a hunter’s rifle ready to shoot you down from the sky.

The mighty will never kneel.

Nyx dreams as if variations must be pronounced and demoed in an obtuse way, as if the little manipulations in my mannerisms, hearts, and ego have been nothing but subtle over the half a year that I’ve been here. I’m absolutely nothing in your eyes; nothing more than the scum that you wipe from the bottom of your boot. I’m not a threat. I’m not a challenge. I’m just another number that you’ll add to your tally as you make your way toward the throne that you believe is already yours. I have no problems with that because I would love to surpass your modest expectations of me, just like I surpassed expectations when I beat, well everyone I've beaten to date. The names keep getting bigger and bigger but there is one constant between every new wrestler that crosses my path, and that is the fact that they are extremely overrated. You know, throughout the time that I’ve had the opportunity to watch this business, I’ve been able to understand that the people that find the need to constantly reassure themselves of the future they believe that they’re walking into, are the people that actually doubt themselves the most. I'll do us both a favour, I won't go down the path of things you've heard a million times before. Yes, I am unable to understand why you're satisfied in your current situation but it's not my job to understand that, I'm in no position to judge you for liking being in Eris' shadow so much, you do you. If your own expectations of yourself are that low then I'm not wasting my breath attempting to make you see that perhaps you could be something better. I just find it kind of funny that now Eris has finally captured the big one, now you want to step up slightly, now you want to add another championship to your collection. Do you want this for you, or for her? Does the Void need to hold both titles in order to feel secure in their self proclaimed top dog status?

No risk, no reward.

I cannot stress enough how much I believe in and try to uphold this phase to the best of my abilities and usually, it's just the champion who walks into a defence risking something but this time around, I'd like to say you're taking a risk too Nyx because what happens if (when) you fail in your conquest to take this title from me? What's precious old Eris going to think and feel about her second in command, her first lady if you will when she walks out empty handed, falling victim to Alyssa Grace? Whilst the reality of you having to actually think about dealing with that is slim, for I doubt Eris herself will be able to retain against a rightfully vexed Diantha Rosso, it's still a reality. Before this gets switched up on me, I know the opposite is also a reality, I know that I could walk out empty handed but I don't intend to. Trust me, I know just saying I'm going to keep my championship isn't enough to warrant a victory but until we collide there isn't much else I can do. I possess a mind that sees long term but often find myself cast against those who struggle to think beyond the following week. My mind is focused on larger goals and I wave through the muck of irrelevance that stands between me and it. But most cannot comprehend next week week, let alone next month. I aim to win a war, not each and every battle and yet even when I lose those battles, I’m almost certainly left without a mortal wound. Of course, as all things tend to be in this company, if someone higher on the food chain (in this case, Eris for you Nyx) begins to utter something and try to push it as fact, the desperate tend to latch onto it, hoping this apparent “truth” will guide them to the biggest win of their career; finally their chance to break away. How pathetically displaced their faith is. They find themselves in their lowly places of insignificance and irrelevance through their own lacklustre and unimaginative approach. Men and women who don’t offer anything more than simple naivety. I pity them. I do. They know no better. They know nothing of success. They know nothing of what it takes to succeed and thus will clutch to whatever straw they can, hoping, praying and pleading to whatever God is willing to listen to them that somehow, this time it will be different. That what they will stand across from is truly the fabricated myth others have attempted to construct instead of the beast that roams the forest. They know, deep down, beyond the facade they construct and project to the world, that they are nothing more than crumbs in the eyes of the beast. The “truth” is comforting. The “truth” gives them a sense of security even if it’s false. The “truth” gives them optimism that they stand even a shred of a chance. But deep down...beneath it all...they know what they face. They know the impossibility of the task before they. No matter how much they arm themselves, bare their teeth and repeat this lie over and over again, nothing changes. Again, they find themselves being walked over, again they find themselves defeated.

You're a woman man with such confidence, such belief...and yet it’s all undeserved.

Mediocrity is a long and distant goal. Mediocrity can’t even be a label that can be tied to your name, Nyx. Mediocrity is credit that isn’t due. Mediocrity is kindness, a compliment, instead of the insult it typically is. Mediocrity would be your very definition of success. Even meagre accomplishments are at the very least a wayward dream, something you will always try to convince yourself is a possible reality but something that will forever remain beyond your grasp. Why? Why delude yourself, trick yourself into believing this blatant fantasy that will never come to fruition? Foolish. You constantly find yourself trying to run up a vertical wall thinking it can be scaled. I want to help you get to that moment of realisation that feasting on your fellow bottom-feeding rats is the best it will ever get, you're already serving Eris to the best of your abilities. You cling to hope and optimism fuelled by the idea that being granted prime minutes against someone of my status is seen as the world potentially turning in your favour, but this is all nothing more than a routine exercise for myself. You exist as nothing more than a life filled dummy who bends and bows at my will, to every decision I make. You’re not gifted with the opportunity to thrive, an opportunity to grow, but rather handed an unfortunate placement as prey for a beast with every intent to feast. You placed so much stock in this far too often idea of a struggling Alyssa Grace, that it’s a reality let alone something you can take advantage of. But lets say, you’re right. Everyone’s right. I’m a woman crippled by her own emotions. What makes you think, in any fantasy or any idealistic reality, that you would still be able to measure up? Because at my worst? I have never sunk to your lows. I have NEVER seen your lows. My first day in this company and every day since has been on a level, in a spot of complete relevance and reverence that you have never been able to get even a meagre sniff of. My worst, in all the beauty and glory that people like you think is the holy grail, is still a rung of the ladder that you can’t clutch to, that you can’t even begin to fathom reaching; a rung that remains in the clouds, well above your sight.

In none but one world does Nyx measure up to Alyssa Grace.

The best of Alyssa Grace.
The worst of Alyssa Grace.

And that world exists purely within your imagination. Your idealistic vision, fantasy, fairy-tale of a world where you are capable of beating me and truly the sole world in which you are anything but the laughable charade parading herself around as some form of competent and formidable competitor. But I’m not in the business of entertaining the fantasies of others, I’m in the business of turning every hope and dream held by foes into dust; turning their humble and perfect dreams into haunting, troublesome nightmares. Your dreams are minuscule, your realistic possibilities are minute. You're nothing more than a small creature, crawling around in the dirt while I walk across the lands of Omega Wrestling Alliance as a titan; towering over so many and showing no notice of the likes of yourself.

Your momentum? Dead before it even has chance to begin.
Unstoppable? Proven to be a myth before it has any legitimacy.
Best in the world? Another week closer to putting it beyond doubt.
You may not know it yet, but you're playing the perfect part in my game, Nyx.

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

Re: OWA Promos July 11th 2020, 5:56 am by **The Udy**

"vicarann ashuna kshaunyam hayenapratima-dyutih
nripa-linga-cchado dasyun kotisho nihanishyati"

"Displaying His unequalled effulgence and riding with great speed,
He will kill by the millions those thieves who have dared dress as kings."

(The Infernal Beast is standing among a field of corn complete with his mask and jacket. Dark clouds cover the sky as few ravens and vultures circle above.)

"Time has come. As per the Vedas, the ancient book of wisdom, the Kaliyug means the last age. The age of degeneration."

"Your conscience is the real evil needing a karmic intervention people. The dead conscience that allows you, lures you to do the unthinkable acts that results in fall of humanity. Your soul needs a saviour and ITS TIME"

(The Infernal Beast laughs manically)

"Kalki is the the saviour that can relieve the pestilence. And I, The Infernal Beast is his weapon of choice. I am the angel that has fallen from the skies to clean your contaminated conscience"

"I am finally here and I am here to end the cycle. Evolution has backtracked into a frenzied anti clock turn of events....And it calls for a new beginning"

(He taps his head lighting up his eyes glowing red)

"At Atlantis Meltdown, the war begins. The Cursed Crusader, "The Infernal Beast" will bring the hammer of justice down on each and everyone of you needing it. So many bodies, so many new faces and so much pestilence. I will have my hands full for sure. The demon inside you will try to fight but what's the point?"

"Its a suicide mission for each and everyone of you who will stand across me."

(The Beast raises his hands as lightening strike a distance)

"One Mark Michaels! You have my attention. You have asked who am I? I am your conscience Mark. I am what your soul should have been like but is not due to it being affected by failing humanity. When you talk about throwing carcasses over the rope, you sound like a vulture. The ones you see hovering above looking for dead meat. Your very existence is a disease Mark and I will cure the world of it"

(He looks up as a Vulture perched on a scarecrow tilts his head at him)

"I will also have Oliver Harpe who fell into a basket of rotten apples. Its a sad fate that he too will be have to fall for the crimes of his cronies. A collateral damage for the greater good."

"So many misguided souls here that I salivate at the thought of being the one that makes them understand that its time to accept the end as new beginning of something wonderful. The Satyayug..The age of Truth is coming and I am the harbinger of it"

(The Beast's eyes glow even more as he taps his head again. The sky has gone darker)

"One particular Devi Krysis does intrigue me though among st the nonchalance of the other misbreds. She has untapped evil residing inside that needs special attention and a special treatment. While she is oblivious stuck on her greed of fresh meat as she calls it, I will have a wonderful time making you feel the grand plan Devi. I would love to see you face to face for an encounter between you and The real beast."

(He laughs again as blue flames start around him)

"Ryo Sakazaki, Theodor Pavel, Oliver Harpe, Bada Dik Baap, Maelstrom, Azurine Vebbins,Gwen Harper, Liara Lawson, Rebecca Brookes, Alexander King, Daniel Horror, Revy, Mizuko Nishiyama, Jacob Nighttime, Jack Dio. All of you will have a rude awakening to the fact that end is here. Close your eyes folks. You will hear the trumpets, you will hear the drums, you will hear to foot steps of Mahashiva. Close your eyes and sleep to the beating hooves of the horses as the horsemen near. Can you listen the swoosh as the Kalki on his horse glides by? Listen to the end"

(The Infernal Beast raises his hands again as the flames jump up circling him, his eyes glowing as he starts chanting)

"atha tesham bhavishyanti manamsi vishadani vai
vasudevanga-ragati- punya-gandhanila-sprisham
paura-janapadanam vai hatesv akhila-dasyushu"

(The Beast starts walking away before looking back)

"Who am I?"

"Your conscience! I am the hand of KALKI. I am THE INFERNAL BEAST"

(He raises his right hand and the flames engulf the entire scene)

Re: OWA Promos July 11th 2020, 1:46 am by **Mark Michaels**

Words. Words. Words words. Words. This week with two huge shows on the on the doorstep, we are sure to hear plenty of them. The funny thing is that for all those words comping out of everyone’s mouth, so many of them will wind up being empty or idle. I can tell you right now that is not gonna be there case with me. Last week I spoke about how I was gonna raise the bar around here. How I was gonna set the tone for the rest of 2020 and beyond. That the moment I signed on the dotted line was the moment playtime was over and everyone from the guys who jerk the Curtian on the pre-show, to the main eventers sitting pretty on top of the card better had better start getting serious before they start getting hurt. Last week in what was a small sample of what I can do in the ring, I gave the OMEGA audience a taste of what they can expect. The whole world caught a glimpse of how good I am, hell people have know for years exactly how good I am inside a squared circle, and now that I’m here where there isn’t a shit load of politics, or kissing up to some Snake in a knock off Perry Elis suit to get a spot, Now that I am here, my future is now brighter than ever, and a small set back like Nathan Fiora getting caught on a sloppy small package is not gonna change that. I mean look no further than the fact that I’m already booked on my first supershow, and with a victory on July 17th, I prove once again exactly how tough and stubborn a bastard I can be. With a victory at this Atlantis supershow, I send all the preconditioned thoughts and preconceived notions about me into meltdown. With a victory in this number one contender battle royal where I take a piece out a locker room’s worth of asses, I’ll give my detractors no other choice but to start jumping on the Mark Michaels band wagon. When I send that last son of a bitch crashing to the arena floor, I give all my doubters no choice but to wake up to the fact that I’m the new standard you all follow around here. That I’m the head of the class who’s setting the curve each and every week. I shake people out of the stupor and make them realize right quick that I’m not some jackass social media mogul, I’m not some pretentious wannabe male model, and I sure as hell am not just some gimmick running around a ring making a mockery of the sport. With this win people start to see Mark Michaels for the amazing athlete, and incredible wrestler he is and always has been. At Atlantis Meltdown, I silence the haters who only see me as “picture perfect”, and kill that load of horse shit gimmick they wrapped me in back in New Jersey. This week the self proclaimed social media champion dies via the lethal injection.

Now I say all this because all of You know that for the last five years or so, my life has been nothing but one long stream of idiots speaking out their asses. They tell me I can’t do this, they tell me I can’t do that. I thought that with a change of scenery, that segment of crowd would grow silent. Don’t get me wrong, there are far more people who see me for the talent I possess here in OWA, but there is still a flock of lower IQs out there saying “Oh Mark.” They say “You’ve only had one match here, and you lost.you shouldn’t even be in this match, much less be thinking of actually winning it. And even if you did you can’t beat Baba Yaga.” They say. I will take this time to offer my rebuttal. It wasn’t Baba Yaga who did diddly dick to influence the outcome of that match. Further more I wasn’t the one who got caught in a small package because of a mild distraction. Yes a loss is still a loss, but To those who think I’m simply repeating the old patterns of trying to hype up a persona after having suffered a defeat, they had best start putting their asses in reverse, and backtracking on that idea because it’s brand new day, and Mark Michaels always lives up to the hype. To the doubters I say watch that match again and pay closer attention to what was happening minute to minute. If you do, you’ll see how I can contain and shut down that stuffed animal loving asshole. That not only am I the most qualified man to take him on, but should I go on to face Baba Yaga, or the ass hat squaring off against him this week, that I’m the closest thing to a sure bet that I would walk away with win. So should I simply just phone in this chance at my first crack at OWA gold? Oh hell no, this is too good an opportunity to pass up by not going all out, and giving every last ounce of energy I have in that ring, haters be damned. “But still Mark, you should just be happy to be in this match and leave it at that.” They’ll retort back. And I respond with the following. Mark Michaels is done waiting. I take what I want, and right now there’s only three things I want in life. To win this battle royal, to become the openweight champion, and to laugh in dumb faces of everyone who said I couldn’t do it when I look them square in the eye and tell them these four magic words,I told you so! Man will I be smiling when that day comes.
But to get there, I have to win at Meltdown, And here in my second week here in OWA, my confidence is sky high. I’m already getting my face exposed on other brands of OMEGA Wrestling Alliance. you can tell that Scott Oasis sees what I bring to the table. and he’s smart by trying go out and make sure To put me front and center in a prominent place on the card, instead of trying to bury me for the sake of his own ego like they do in some places. You can tell that he has enough business sense to get a return on all that money he’s paying me to be apart of his roster as quick as he can. So He’s tossing me right into the fire, or whatever euphemism you care to use to say prove my worth. And I’ll say it right now that this far I’m proving I’m worth every cent. What with the Performance I gave last week, and the one I’ll be putting on at Meltdown, where I will come out fighting like hell from bell to bell to outlast, outmaneuver, and outwit every sorry son of a bitch entered into a battle royal to become the number one contender to the openweight championship. I’ve got the opportunity to go after that belt and claim it for myself, and I gotta say it feels good to being in such a Prominent spot here OWA. To finally be that guy who gets thrown right into the championship race from the get go. To be the guy whose value is finally being recognized by management that Is competent, and to not be jerked around by a bunch of suits who don’t know the first thing about wrestling. It feels good to right in the thick of it, because See I live for the moments when you have to jump the biggest hurdles. I live for the moments when you have to climb the biggest mountains. I live for the moments when the rewards are as big as they get, and whenever I’m in a big match situation, there’s not a man alive who would be willing to do push themselves harder, or sink to the lowest depths imaginable if it means getting his hand raised. And now that the boss lady creaked open the door to openweight title for me, I’m gonna kick that mother fucker wide open, and walk all over however many steeping stones they throw in that ring with me, till that title is mine. Speaking of said stepping stones ( or more accurately people with the intellect of a stone) I’ve got seventeen of them to deal with in this cluster fuck battle royal, all of whom will be jaw jacking about how they’re either the hottest thing in the company, or the biggest bad ass walking god’s green earth. I’ll hear from Jacob Nighttime how he’s a real scary mother fucker, and with a face as ugly as his I’ll agreee. But when he steps into my ring, it’ll be night night for nighttime. I’ll hear about how Daniel Horror used to do meth and screw the cheapest of whores back in his biker gang tree house. I’ll hear from Udy... wait what the fuck is an Udy?! Well Whatever the fuck he has to say, It’s nothing I haven’t heard before. So regardless of Devi Krysis howling at the full moon like a moron, or Jack Dio counting spare change from his day job as a nickel-a-go gigolo, all their talking won’t make a damn lick of difference once I hit that ring, and proceed to stomp every son of a bitch in that ring’s skull in, before heaving their pathetic carcasses over the top rope.
Now some may be thinking that I’m just talking directly out my ass, or that I’m saying all this just to get a bit of hype around my name. Son I will tell it to you straight, I can say all this, call my shot, prophetically predict the out come, and guarantee victory this week, because I’ve been in this situation before, and I know damn well that I have the endurance, the stamina, and the quick wit needed to last bell to bell if need be. hell last year I lasted over an hour coming in at number four out of a field of thirty. And in the whole build up to that match, every single one of those twenty nine sons of bitches hemmed, and hawed, and yammered, and damn well talked my goddamn ear off about how they were all hot shit. Same shit different day. So my point is this, I know what to expect, I have enough experience to know what everyone out there is gonna say in the lead up, and I know how they’re gonna react once they’ve been battered around by every pair of fists in that ring and they are clinging for dear life to hang on to anything that will keep their feet from touching the floor. And once I’m done throwing them all out like old garbage bags, I‘ll sit back and listen to it all, the real question is whether or not ready for what’s coming after they’re done talking. If they’re ready for when I ball up my fist, and knock their damn lights out?! My guess is that they sure as hell aren’t. My guess is that each and every single one of them will will have their confidence shattered by the time they make it to the five minute mark, should any of them be so lucky to last that long. So fuck those so called that l the pundits, the so called experts, who once again look for any reason to count me out before the bell even rings. Fuck those assholes who are overlooking me in favor of everybody from Maelstrom, to Alexander King, to Devi Krysis. Fuck you all because at Meltdown, it doesn’t matter who’s doubting me, who’s threatening me, or who’s living in fantasy land by thinking I’m not gonna I’m gonna strike send him or her via air mail over the top rope and into the first row!

By week’s end, when that bell rings there’s gonna be man left standing in that ring, and you can bet your ass it’s gonna be, standing tall, hand raised in victory, and ready to march on down and become your next Openweight champion.

Re: OWA Promos July 10th 2020, 7:51 pm by Guest

My Story Is Written Upon Flesh and Bone

(Jessy is shown sitting on a steel chair in an abandon and ran down double storage unit, a familiar place as it was once known as The Crow’s Nest. It shows Jessy wearing black jogging pants and a black hoodie with multiple belts wrapped around and in her hands.)

Oh Ayumi... wait not that isn’t right now is it... I mean, Azumi... yeah that is correct. I know I should be glad I get to face you finally, but there is just one problem to it. I wanted to face you when you are yourself and not this shell of a person who loves to preach to others and yet doesn’t do it to themselves in a mirror. You have been talking to me like you knew me and you knew my story. You always talk to me like you right there with me in Detroit when I was getting powerbombed through glass plates or piledrove through flaming tables.

(Jessy is shown throwing five belts onto the ground)

Hell, it seemed like you there when I was in Japan and wrestled in a crazy ass deathmatches.

(Jessy is shown throwing rest of the belts onto the ground)

Interesting fact though Azumi, you fucking weren’t! Because if you were, you could name these belts, when I won them, and even who I beat to win them. These all the belts I won before coming into Odyssey, and I know they don’t mean nothing to anyone here because they weren’t from the company most of the people who wrestle in Omega came from, but they mean the world to me because it shows my accolades and shows that I can back my talking about being a champion. You know what the one thing I never did though, Azumi. I never had the championship in my hand and decided to just leave because I couldn’t hack it. Think about it, Azumi. You had the championship in your hand, and you wanted to lead Odyssey to the wonderful golden years and all that wonderful fairy tale shit, but what happen instead. You ushered in the darkest days of Odyssey, and you can proclaim that you felt bad about it, but I know better because if you did then you would have done something about it instead of went into hiding. I mean, you are the Ace, aren’t you? What kind of person who trumpets for justice, peace, love, and so forth just leaves? Who just abandons a promotion they preach about loving and being glad to help build up and had the chance to lead the way forward? I will tell what kind of Ace and person does that. Someone who is self-centered. Someone who doesn’t give a shit who they step on as long as they get to the top. That is who you truly are, Azumi, or that is how I see you now. To quote Beerus, nobody who trumpets justice ever turns out to be righteous, and that fits you perfectly.

(Jessy is shown getting up and taking off her jogging pants and hoodie, revealing a pair of black compression shorts and a black sports bra)

It seems like you want to know my story Azumi because you are invested in me for you want to unlock my full potential. Well, look upon my flesh. Each one of these scars is my story. Whether they be an injury or me winning a title, each one means something. For my story isn’t written out online or in some book, it is written upon my flesh. Though I am sure you most wouldn’t care to hear these stories, I will do a couple just for you.

(Jessy gets up, moves closer to the camera, and sits on the belts she laid before her. Jessy moves her hair back showing slight scars across her forehead)

You see these scars here, Azumi. These are from when I challenged my mentor, Amadeus Crowe, for his Detroit Deathmatch Championship. He took Barbed Wire and wrapped it around my head like a Crown of Thrones and Superkicked me. Drilling those bars into my skin and causing blood to pour forth. Even though I had a Crimson Mask and barely could see I still ended up winning the belt. I had to go to hospital afterwards, just so they could properly cut the wire from my forehead.

(Jessy turns around and shows her back, which is riddled with scars)

All of them came from my match against Jun Syko, when I challenged him for his King of the Deathmatch Championship. He nailed a top rope powerbomb, and I crashed through three sheets of glass plates. I could barely kick out, but I did. I would end up winning that match, but not after a few more brutal spots. They soon rushed me to the hospital and had to get glass pulled out of my back and even a week later I had to pull two pieces out, but worry though it is all good now.

(Jessy turns back around facing the camera and lets out a smirk)

Ayumi... I mean Azumi, you have seen one story of mine written before you. When I came into Odyssey, I was a fucking no one especially since I was an outsider and knew no one, and when I came in and saw your talent it amazed me both in and out of that ring. I was always on the edge for your matches, and I still am, and I enjoyed hearing about your matches in other promotions it gave me hope. Hell, I took the nickname “Aerial Ace” when I was changing gimmicks every week as a nod to you because I enjoyed your work and everything. I wanted to copy your style, swagger, promos, and more. I was a fucking fool for doing that because I hated it as it wasn’t me and that hurts me then any Deathmatch I have ever been in. Actually, that isn’t the only story you have seen I am sure you saw my raise to the top and my fall to the top, but that is the one that had meaning to you, one could say.
You asked some important questions Azumi on Odyssey, and I am cliched into answering them. The momentum I have going for me right now will be used against the people I mentioned in my returned promo. Whether I win or lose that momentum will help me in those matches, and that is all that matters. Let me ask a question, though. Are you deaf? How many times must I repeat that I will not go after any titles at all? Null. Zero. None. I couldn’t care about titles anymore. Even the ones I have in front of me, that I won from promotions close to my heart. Yes, I mentioned that mean something to me, but it is the memories of them that mean more than the physical thing itself. To me, titles are just shiny trinkets that are only used as a marketing scam to push people based on popularity and nothing else. They are meaningless in the long run. Why would I take the belt away from Alyssa when she is doing a better job as champion as I ever did? Why would I steal that momentum she has just to leave back in the old? I know, they say there is no such thing as a dumb question, but that one was. As for my next move...well, that is simple, it is to beat you.

(Jessy gets up and is seen walking around the belts smiling and lightly laughing)

You say that I can be a phenomenal champion and laying right in front of you is the proof that I can be. I carried two companies on my back and I did day in and day out! I gave my blood , sweat, and tears for not just them but for Odyssey as well! According to you though, I would rather drag my feet and mope around. I am not dragging my feet or moping around because I just want to wrestle and enjoy myself while doing it. I want to have fun and just be me and not some overplayed or over the top caricature. That is what I am doing Azumi because if I was acting the way you say I was then I wouldn’t have changed after Final Destination II! You act like I don’t give a shit about nothing! I don’t give a shit about wrestling or Odyssey, but I am making this dead clear for you, Azumi! You saying I don’t give a shit is very insulting to me because I have busted my ass to get where I am now! I went through glass plates, flaming tables, been in several Japanese Deathmatches, and I even missed my own fucking father’s funeral because they booked me for a championship match in a previous promotion! So don’t you ever say I don’t give a shit because I will gladly beat your ass inside or outside of the ring, it doesn’t matter to me! You say I am spitting in the face of every woman who has worked hard to build this women’s division to where it is now. Azumi, you have to be delusional as fuck to say some dumb shit like that! I am not doing no such thing and I appreciate every woman who has helped improve and made not only Odyssey, but other women’s promotions and divisions!

(Jessy takes a deep breath before sitting back on the titles and lets out a devilish smirk)

In fact, one could say you spit in Miss Manami’s face and legacy when you just upped and leave because again you couldn’t hack it. I have been vocal about how I believe Odyssey is the better brand and how we have the better stories that are told, but I guess you can’t see or hear that, can you? Maybe I should invade Kingdom or Olympus and proclaim there. Would that be acceptable, Azumi? The last thing though I really got to get my point across is this. If you think wrestling is just about collecting belts, pride, and walking around like you better than everyone then those are the wrong reasons to be in this business. I am not in this business for fame or glory. I am in because I grew up loving it and wanted nothing else, but to be a wrestler no matter the cost. I found a family that accepted me for who I was and not for I wasn’t. Championships are nice, but that shouldn’t be your primary goal because Championships come and go, but having a brilliant match or a series of brilliant matches will last forever. To prove this name one thing any of the Goddesses Champion or Women’s Champion has done? I bet you can’t name one thing they improved or what they did with the belt to make it meaningful, but you know what you will remember the matches.

So Ayumi... Azumi, I mean, when we wrestle, I want you to bring everything you have against me. Show me what it means to be an Ace! Show me the Queen’s Road style that Miss Manami taught you. Show me what a champion should be! Show me everything you preached about, but never once backed up! You better nail me with the Last Surprise, Bridging Dragon Suplex, the Red Heart II, Tokyo Sunset, and TORA Driver, and afterwards hit with the Path of Heaven, the Giant Slayer, and Gate of Heaven! You know what, fuck it! You better hit me with your beloved Endless World as well if you truly want your message to be heard and for me to... as you would say, give a shit! If I am such a fucking embarrassment, then make me pay for it instead of making ideal threats, Azumi! I want you to bring everything and don’t you dare go easy on me because I won’t Azumi! So with everything said I offer you a Fuck You and quit running your mouth about me when you don’t know shit about me.

(Jessy gets up and leaves and the scene fades to black)

Re: OWA Promos July 10th 2020, 12:24 am by **Mav.**

THE VANITY KILLER
Boiling Point #1 | 2,445 words

Vanity.

Do you know what “vanity” is? It’s the excessive pride in or admiration of one's own appearance or achievements. For example, I used to live in vanity. When I first arrived in OWA, I bragged a little as a double World Champion and how I was only getting the opening matches on Olympus, I kept saying how I belong in places a lot higher and not realizing, I needed to break into it. I needed to show that, and I did, before I was riddled with a neck injury after a freak accident in another promotion. Ascension Wrestling Federation. I was dropped on my head, I was left in a wheelchair for a week after that. Barely able to walk, barely able to stand, barely able to keep my own balance. Since then, I came back and entered the Kingdom brand. Even with two title match losses to my name, I was still considered a Main Event player, a top star that came from nowhere to now. I know there’s people watching this and thinking that I’m wrong but… Being in the top of the cards doesn’t mean I’m shit, does it? They wouldn’t put me there unless I was actually worth something, aren’t I right? Yes, my vanity somewhat showed when I faced Aria Jaxon, and that did cost me. I got cocky. I got more arrogant. The rightful winner walked out that night. I cannot lie about it. But there hasn’t been much of my vanity showing, but I see everyone else showing their vanity, whether for the purpose of reminder or for the purpose of rubbing it in the opponent’s face. Then there’s the type of people that do it because they can, to make them look a little bit tougher, a little bit stronger, a little bit smarter. These are the type of people that’ll tell you that they did all of this, all of that, all of the things they once owned and then when you uncover the truth, you put the pieces together and it seems like they were helped… handed… carried to the riches they once owned. You’ve got to ask yourself what is the truth, what are the lies, and what can you really believe in. I know, we all dream every now and then of a perfect world but you’ve got to be careful with those who can dream. Some like to dream about what a future can hold for them, what they would like to see happen. Then there are others who dream, and then get straight to work with their dream and turn it into a reality.

If kings can dream, then so can a prince and if he can dream… then god help anyone below him.

It’s becoming clearer and clearer by the day that the men and women on this roster… they all tell a lie either to themselves or to their opponents, and a prime example of that would be this past Sunday, at Kingdom. What you saw was three men who were set on a common goal. To begin the destruction of The Ashes of The Wake. What you saw were three men, two of OWA’s best and J.D. Damon, all in the bid to make sure that our first fall would be the beginning of our own demise. Here’s the thing though, what happened in the ring was something far more different and I know… they’ve all got their own excuses as to why it happened but never to how they should have taken control again. It’s always about the “why” factor. It’s always why this and why that but never “this is how we should have changed the pace” or “this is how we should have taken them down one by one” because there was no communication. There was no game plan going into it other than “beat the shit out of them” and guess what… Ninety percent of the time, that becomes bullshit. You’re not going to walk into the ring with the mindset of “beat someone down” and hope to god it works, unless you really do have a steady game plan, then the best thing to do is to stay quiet about your game plan… if there is one. For the hopefuls that want to judge me on my game plan, and shoot us down for playing dirty… There were no rules, anything can go, do you forget that is a fucking rule in a Street Fight? I seen Arata on twitter complain about the use of a fireball, and while I do not condone it, I do however suggest you think back to the rules of the match, dumb cunt. It’s like Fight Club, there is only one rule… and that there are no fucking rules. So complain as much as you want, I’ll listen but the argument stays the same, you want to cry about the loss then so be it but don’t come crying when it’s your fate sealed after Boiling Point. The Ashes of The Wake are all over the cards. Night two will hopefully be the night where The Nightmare King seals his fate as the top, The Vincent will show Baba Yaga that vengeance is god and god is war, Jacob Knight can show he can truly rule the world when he dethrones Arata. The Ashes are looking very strong heading in, and I can tell you now, J.D Damon has no fucking hope.

I’m not being very fucking cocky. I’m not being very fucking confident. I just know my level of abilities. I just know how fucking good I am. I just know how low I can stoop and still be on my fucking A Level. I just know where my standards lie and seeing some half-assed wrestler who runs a wrestling school, being the third man in a stable of two great people and someone who has recently got their head kicked in because the heartless grew himself a heart for his temporary team members. I can talk all fucking day about J.D Damon and how he’s not even a different man than the shell of his past because he does things so fucking weirdly that it makes me wonder if he’s supposed to be the good guy or the bad guy, because when you look at Wolvesden, they were some of the baddest motherfuckers around. They harmed anyone that walked in their way or even looked at them the wrong way. They would kill anyone on sight if they felt that way. They had the most dangerous people in the world and they were fucking dominant, I can say that and STILL tell you how there was always that one man who was just sitting on the sidelines, sitting in the darkness because he could never be on the same level as his stablemates. He was always the odd one out, he was always that guy everyone overlooked because of the successors he had in the group, he was always forgotten that he was even in the team until someone brought his name up or he would even have to make sure people remembered that he was in it too. To everyone, he might have seemed like this random person who shouted “WOLVES AETERNUM” at the top of his lungs and people would still think he was just a really big fan. Everything about the Wolvesden name has been fucking tarnished since Hardcore Havoc. Two of the biggest names in the stable and all you're left with is this guy who’s always been on and off with the team for like what… a year or more? Tell me, how much legacy is in the name of Wolvesden? You’ve got names like Nate Cage and Kenny Drake leaving a legacy behind to someone like you, in an opportunity like this, you should be taking this fucking opportunity but you’ve got your head so far up your fucking arse that all you think about is shouting the name Wolvesden like you were an important member of the stable, but everyone knows exactly what you were… You were nothing more than a lackey for Kenny. You were nothing more than a side piece to Nate Cage. You were the overshadowed one. You were the forgotten one. You… J.D… Were nothing without your masters. You… were nothing without the men that actually built Wolvesden and you never will duplicate their success for your own good.

So tell me, J.D, what the fuck do you think you’re doing calling me out when I had the spotlight and claimed that Wolvesden was still alive without their two most important members. You’re a one man army, against four others who already have taken the entire Boiling Point card and have been put into their own title matches. I’m doing this because I need an easy win, and if you don’t think that’s the case, then take a look at Kingdom. What happened again? If I remember correctly, you took a Bicycle Punt to the head because you tried being the good guy, you tried being something you never were, and it cost you. You shouldn’t have to take the bullet, J.D, you shouldn’t need to be the one to cover up a man when he’s down. I’m sure the man can do things by themselves, but no, you didn’t do that at all. The heartless grew a heart and he came to save someone he just teamed up with, and like Wolvesden… He took the bullet for the two who are far more superior than himself but at the end of the day, it’s still their loss. It’s still your loss. How are you willing to bounce back? You’re going to be that stereotypical man who faces his crowd of students and tell them that you promise that I am the one to fall but in reality, J.D, you’ve already fallen, you can’t keep promises you’ve already broken without mentioning them! You’re creating a world of lies around you, a world of deceit. I can tell you that it’ll not help you in the long run, J.D. I can tell you that what you’re doing is just making things a whole lot worse for your own situation; I know you won’t listen to me either because you can’t take constructive criticism correctly. If you did, someone should have told you a year ago to fucking walk away and never come back, you washed up bastard.

You’ll never be as good as the men that handed you the keys to the kingdom, to the legacy they once held onto, that is a power you possess in your hands that is untouched by many and only those many could DREAM of having. You have been passed down the name of Wolvesden and all you’ve been doing with it is just tarnishing the namesake of the biggest stable there was in OWA. I’ve been in your situation before, J.D. I’ve been in that situation where I was the odd one out and I had to grow out of their larger than life legacies to step into my own. It took me one whole year, J.D, what has been fucking keeping you? Use your ownership of a dead wrestling company, use your ownership of a wrestling school, use the phrase of “Wolves Aeternum” as much as you’d like but make no mistake, it doesn’t make you a better man. Let me tell you the harsh truth about how your lawful side is more permanently damaging than your true side, the side of Wolvesden. Example one would have to be Kingdom, of course, you know...and felt…what happened in the ring. I don’t need to explain why this is a bad thing for you, if you had some knowledge in that brain of yours you’d figure it out yourself. Example two is that you don’t take things for yourself, you let others take your spotlight, including my beloved, Rebecca. You’ve become a waste of time, I don’t get why I have to face you at Boiling Point now if I was able to pin you with such ease at Kingdom that all it took… was one foot. I’m like Oscar Pistorius if he had legs, I’d kill you in the ring and make it up like it was an accident, and I’ll make sure that Boiling Point will be a fatal accident waiting to happen.

I’m going to leave you behind with a legacy dead and buried into the ground along with the rest of Wolvesden. Kenny Drake is retired, gone, and out of sight. Nate Cage is dead. Awaiting his resurrection. Crushed into nothing more than steaming piles of flesh. Is this the legacies of the men you want to tarnish? You want to bring them glory, bring them new life, you want to make sure they look at you wherever they are and think “he’s finally doing it, he’s finally proving us all wrong” when in reality, you’re just pushing the blade into their backs some more because “The Purist” is nothing more than a fucking joke. “The War King” is nothing more than a pissant mongrel of himself and all you are is the last man alive in Wolvesden, the last of the dying breed, but you won’t be living for long. Are you willing to step up to me and prove me wrong, J.D? Are you going to show me the fight you really have in you? Or are you going to cower in the corner, like a sad, sick and scared little pup ready to be put down because you can’t stand on your own feet anymore. Let me be the guide, let me be the man that pulls that fucking trigger, let me be the man that ends Wolvesden for good because without Kenny and Nate, Wolvesden is nothing more than a one man army against everyone who can make the simple sacrifices like J.D. Damon has agreed to. I can’t promise you to be cleansed into something that can help you, but what I can provide is the release of what you have left of a dying brand. Who’d known that the last of the dying breed within Wolvesden is already staring up along the grain of the barrel, waiting for the trigger to be pulled, waiting for his release… waiting for a legacy to finally die.

J.D. Damon, you’ve brought this upon yourself, I’ve no say in this. I can only promise you a quick death, only if that’s what you wish to accept.

And you know damn well, along with everyone else, I wouldn’t say that unless it was true.

J.D. Damon and Arata Asakura have spoken. It’s such good shit!

Re: OWA Promos July 9th 2020, 7:13 pm by **Michael Bishop**

(We find ourselves in the outskirts of an old city. Skyscrapers and bright lights can be seen over the top of a monolithic construction site. A lone man walks through the rain, head high, he pulls his hood back as he approaches an old wall. It’s old, several breaks, cracks, and impact marks dot the large concrete slab. However, despite everything, it’s stood strong. No matter how many times he’s gone at it. No matter how many times hes thrown his full might and fury at it, it’s always stood fast against him. Never breaking, never budging).

I’ve been doing this for a long time…. You know my coach told me once that, “Michael- you’ve lived too long….”. Combat sports… you either die a champion, or you live long enough to see yourself break down and die at the end of a five knuckle finale. We pour everything we know into this shit. Fighting to the death, killing strangers for a buck fifty, all for the chance to get gold, get glory, and get remembered….

I can feel it every single day….. I’m living the future that was never meant to be…. The depressing, dark reality of what could have been, to many, should have been still claws at the fabric of my fucking mind…. 17 years of triumph, struggle, all washed down the drain diluted by the squared circle… A kid who rose to the occasion, fought his way from being a pipsqueak defending his mom into a force of fucking nature-

(He approaches the stone wall, running his hand over the various marks in it over the years. A large indent, a deep crack, a chunk missing. And yet, despite it all, he backs away, seeing no visible gap in it).

All cut down by one steel chair shot. Falling down the gutter, crippled, broken…. Being left to waste away in a dark room with a brass bottle to keep me company… No so called friends…. No help…. No remembrance…

I always was too stubborn to die. History will remember that I’ve always been at my best when it’s me against the whole fuckin’ world. And it has been the world since day fucking one. From walking on a concrete floor into a makeshift warehouse fight to down the ramp in Miami at the biggest event of my fuckin’ career, I’ve always been literally spat upon. Fate’s always been a finicky bitch, indirectly controlling what she wants by leaving plenty of variables to get what she wants. Guess I must have really pissed her off. I never had a choice, never truly. Stay in the gutter and fucking rot, Struggle and die in the world that forgot about me, or take to fighting- and carve out the hope and lifeline that I needed…..-That they needed.

(The rain pours down hard on the dark construction yard as he swings the sledgehammer at the wall. This time is different though. He can hear the much deeper sound as it slams against the wall, concrete fragments fly off in all directions as he gears up and swings again…).

The underdog story is something everyone loves to spin, how hard the opposition was, how against the odds they are- They never had to fight methed up junkies to earn rent at 17. They never had to fight men a decade older than they were, death staining their eyes, for food at 18. Everyone loves to slight me because I swear. Because I point out the deficiencies they try to hide, so ingrained in my technical mindset of finding out how to exploit and destroy human beings in the cage-... I guess it's the difference between who walked in here with stars in their eyes and spending money in their pocket, and those born in fucking murderer’s row. I didn't even have gloves when I started. Just some duct tape and a will to never fucking quit.

I’m not perfect, not by any fucking stretch. I’ve lost more times than he can count. The scars lining my back, the cut forever ingrained on my forehead, the damaged retina plaguing my right eye, the forever crippled knee everyone loves to point out... I’m not born from excellence and a sense of holierthanthough, he's born from a hard headed boxing coach who drilled me until the little boy that was, was beaten to death, burned in a shallow grave and forgotten. And whatever woke up inside of me, clawed through the dirt and rose wasn’t normal. Wasn’t mortal. It’s not some self professed monster, or the inner demons given into by a painted meth head it’s a creature of loss. A monster molded from adaptation, learning from losses- Live, Die, Repeat.

You spend enough time in those trenches and it changes you. You fight for long enough and you become more than obsessed, you become possessed, you become consumed by a hunger to fight the next person above you, then the next- No matter how tough you think you are, there's always a mothafucker scarier than you, bigger than you, faster than you.... And only by learning from the past and rising to the challenge can you beat him until his face is a crimson mask, and drill your fist into his head until his wife is screaming at cageside- begging you to stop. Begging you to end it. Begging you because they realize when the heat is on they weren't meant for this. I was. I am.

I'm born and bred from a continuous baptism that will only end with my hand one day being raised for the final time, or being cradled by the woman I love. I'm molded by a thousand battles, wins, losses, draws, 25 minute wars and 5 second knockouts. Complete scrap fests fighting back from the brink, and crushing a man’s windpipe as he claws and scratches at my face. 41 men have ran up against my railgun of a fucking right hand and were put to sleep. Everyone bashes technicality until I choked them the fuck out. Everyone's better until I deconstruct them piece by piece, and make them my fucking bitch. Everyone's a gangster until I'm ontop, crushing their lungs, and driving my fist into their head against their will.

I am the boogeyman. I am the division's monster. I'm the motherfucker no one wants to fight because I take a piece of everyone with me. You sign the contract against me, you leave on a heart monitor and an IV, with a gallon of blood being pumped into you. I don't entertain, I don't spin, I don't flip, I don't show off. I fight. I am born from a world of conflict and violence, learning to comeback from each set back with a chip on my fucking shoulder.

I talk the talk because I have walked the fucking walk. Every single motherfucker in this ring has come face to face with me. Every single person in this asylum remember hows I beat, battered, and god damn tossed them across the ring. I'm an anomaly in the fucking system, I don't tact, I burrow. I don't dance, I drill. instead of politicing or bullshitting my way here, I did in 5 months what everyone of you would fucking salivate for. I've spilled more blood than any of you have in your entire careers. I've broke more bones than I can ever count. I get off on destroying every single fucking person in front of me and I fucking love it. Everytime I feel an orbital bone crunch, I love it. Everytime I hear them gasp their last, I LOVE IT!!!.

And now here I am. Living a future that was never meant to be, stuck in a ring with 5 other hungry motherfuckers as the world title and outlaw title dangle above us.

People love to bring up 2 year old setbacks from a time when I was broken and a time I was unfocused. They failed to remember what happened the day Michael Bishop came back, because on that day I dropped them all on their fucking skulls and sent their brains rattling around like a god damn pinball machine.

Day one, I chewed up two of your finest FuTuRe MaIn EvEnTeRS. Day fucking one, I made Heavyweight Champions die, and Spartan Champions quit. Everyone who fancies themselves a fucking combat sports superstar today remembers when I humbled them and made them human…

Day 819, I have a piece of every single one of you. I have the blood of Sabertooth's schizophrenic ass caked all over my fist, I have Jeff's brain matter all over my hellbow- flash those soccer kicks all you want Tina, if knock outs were really counted that night, I beat you by splattering your pink haired- purple haired- blue haired- whatever monochromatic ass scalp you have when I took the Outlaw Queen to school, and I fucking embarrassed you. Ya'll didn't beat me, you escaped me. Sit there and claim otherwise but deep down inside of that rattled noggin', I'm in there. Nestled, the reminder that each and every waking day when you claim you're the best in the world, is the man who fucking abused you.... All of you.

(He pauses from his assault on the wall, backing up as he holds the jammer with both hands… but something makes him pause. His eyes squint as the sight as he holds a hand out…. A beam of light, the same orange hue that can be seen over the top of the wall, breaks through…. An opening finally makes itself known. A smile switches at the edge of his mouth before he swings again).

A Steel Asylum. A structure of steel bars and welds meant to be climbed up and escaped. Except there is no god damn escape. There is no fucking running. All of you can say how shook you are from this shit, how metal it is that you're fighting in a cage.... I've been fighting on concrete floors since I was pissing in diapers. I fought inside steel bars for a decade straight. There are no accolades here, there is no starpower here, there are no bullshit finishes, outside help, there's only you, me, and the steel fucking asylum. I didn't walked into a cage with world title contenders, you walked into my fucking house. I'm not trapped in here with you mothafuckers, you're in here with me. I have fought ten years longer than any of you, I have more veterancy in 4oz gloves than Jeff's little soldier boy career does, I have beat world champs from every continent on earth.

When I came back, I said I was here to take the world by storm. Like the good old days. The All or nothing days. All or Nothing because failure means death, and in my world, Death isn't a saying, a threat, a boast, Death means not being able to provide, feed, or build the future. Death is a fact. Death is what I dish out every single fucking time I beat a man well past his consciousness and need three refs to pull me off. I have blitzed my way here, and I have shown that every single fucker in my way doesn't have the balls, doesn't have the galls to stand one on one with me.

I have fought tooth and nail for this. More than everyone. I have paid my dues and then some, in interest, more than everyone. The whole world seems ready to doubt me because "it's not my time", "It's not my place"- if I listened to that shit I'd still be in the minor leagues fist fighting pitbulls. You don't get the world title by being nice and being friends. You don't get redemption by sitting around and crying. You take that motherfucker by FORCE!!

And now here I stand. Almost Well over 700 days on this highway to hell of Redemption- The second chance that never was. Never meant to be. The Second chance I had cheated from me even after I gave everything, betted everything, paid more than my fucking due and then some to get and while the whole world laughed, pointed, and snarled at a man who was robbed over a bad call it never fucking phased me. This isn’t yours, it’s mine.

700 days in a whole spent salivating, hungering for that chance I would hear the bell ring three so I would get to be here again. Living every minute of every hour of every day of every FUCKIN- WEEK!!! 2 GODDAMN YEARS!!! Living as a throw away line in the wolvesden history book abandoned by everyone- including all the motherfuckers who claim to stick by me now. Not anymore. When History looks back on this day, it’s going to remember the end of this long road. When History looks back on this day, they’re going to remember the old man in a sport where young men die CTE ridden walking in and squaring up with all the new kids who claim to have his number.

They’re going to remember the kids long ago, who spent his afternoons against a chain link fence resetting his nose, turned Heavyweight Champion, turned Outlaw and World Champion…..

They’re going to remember the redemption I paid for. When the day comes and I’m judged on whether or not I pulled myself back from that black abyss I had fallen into- Asked to show what I had done to pay off that Penance? 152 days of fire and war. A road punched right through every motherfucker in the Kingdom roster, every single up and coming big man on the block reduced to a pile of flesh and blood. Gazing into the abyss, every single person who's sought out to beat me, break me, and bury me from the Nightmare King to Maelstrom and gazing right back with no fear. The heads of 5 of the world’s best laid at their feet, and two blood covered strap of leather and gold held high….

(The wall shakes as he swings his hammer. Again, and Again, and finally. It breaks. Concrete shoots outwards as the middle of it collapses in, he drops the hammer to his side and shields his eyes as the light he was never meant to see bathes him. Bishop pulls back the hood, stepping through the newly made opening…..).

The day will come when this War on Fate, War on everyone I’m waging is done. I’ve lived by the sword, and I’ll die by the sword- but not before I use it to cut off every single self absorbed motherfucker trying to stop me on the way there. They will look back on this day and see the best wrestlers in the world deconstructed by the best fighter in the world. They will look back on this day as Michael Bishop proved every son of a bitch wrong, and did what he should have done at Detroit. They will look back on this day and see me walking out of that steel asylum, bathed in everyone else’s blood.

This ain’t the year of the X- this is the year of the Dreadknight, baby. And on my fucking life, the blood, the death, the pain, the tears, cuts, punches, synapses, everything will not stop until it is fucking realized. Kill and Maim, Violence and Rage, Until it is fucking done.

(Bishop gazes around at the city ahead, but something catches his eye. Posters for the upcoming event. One of the Outlaw Champion Aria Jaxon, another of the 2020 Clash winner Jeff X. One of Reginald Dampshaw, another of Mr. ATTH Havoc…. All of them posted high, billboards, store windows….).

(A man follows Michael through the breach, dying out his cigarette as it hisses on the wet sidewalk. Bo Maro crosses his arms as he eyes the area around with Michael. The two share a nod as they head off…).

The day has come.

Re: OWA Promos July 9th 2020, 4:12 pm by **DE'MARION.**

I tell no lies, only facts.

You want to test that statement?

I told you people I’d be the best performer in the chamber and win or lose, I damn sure showed that.

I warned the masses well in advance that I would upset all of their silly predictions by knocking off the leading woman April Song in round one! And I did that.

I laid out exactly how I was going to defeat Dulce Torres and expose her as having nothing against my killer instinct. The show came and what happened? I stomped her out.

I promised that I’d be in the finals of the Athena’s Cup and here we are. I have manifested everything that I said would happen, my words aren’t just blurted out with confidence they are previews of what’s to come served to you on a silver platter.

But we’re not done yet. I didn’t just say I’d make the finals. I declared myself as the one to take it all home, period. From the moment the bracket was dropped I placed myself at the top of the board - the winner of Odyssey’s most stacked tournament to date. I’m sure it sounded ridiculous at the time for those who can’t seem to ever give me credit, but now that we’re here at Boiling Point week and you’ve seen everything I’ve done up to this point…..oh, who am I kidding, there are probably still people out there who are questioning my prospects.

Time and time again I have done what was deemed as impossible and with each feat I achieve it always feels like the goal post ends up being moved to diminish what I’ve done. It never ceases to amaze me, which is strange because all my life I’ve had people cast their doubts in the face of my excellence. From the dons of my city who viewed me as a street rat that would never get out of the rags I was in, to the gangbangers who didn’t think a girl had what it takes to run with them, to here in America where I’ve grabbed brass ring after brass ring in the sport of pro wrestling and still get labeled as a talent who ain’t ready for the big time. Over the years I’ve begun to wonder why things are that way. What is the reason for me constantly being dismissed whenever a conversation of great fighters takes place? What is the mindset of those who bet against me? Who are these people?

At the age of twenty seven I’ve finally figured it out. I KNOW the type of person who roots against me each time I have a chance at success. I can VIVIDLY picture the faces of the looming group of haters who always want to cut me out of the winner’s circle. I have FINALLY realized the type of STUPID FUCK who seems to conveniently forget everything I’ve done in my life in order to sell this narrative of my shortcomings on their message boards, their talk shows...and their match promos. They are the elite of this world, the big wigs, the suits, the good ol’ boys and girls, the salt of the earth….the chosen few in our society. Not even just the elite, but the wannabe elite as well ;The bootlickers of those at the head of the totem pole. They want to be big shots just like them so what do they do? They turn their nose up at someone like me so that they can feel like they’re better than someone; so they don’t have to worry about being at the bottom themselves.

Why this happens is because I’m what you could categorize as an “undesirable”. I am a woman that was never in a million years expected to rise up the ranks. You could rest comfortably knowing you could look down upon. My hood, my people, they don’t become stars. They don’t become millionaires. They wash out. They die. They stay in the streets and if they’re lucky they get to live their life as a criminal or a panhandler, but they certainly don’t touch the spotlight I’ve touched or seen the opportunities I have. Someone like me, the perceived scum of our world, the buffer that the rest of this mediocre population relies on to keep them from feeling like they’re in last place…..upward movement from us is a threat to the order of things. It makes the elite scared. It is dangerous to them. It’s a threat to everyone else’s favored place in the system. If a lady like me gets out from under them, it’s only a matter of time until we surpass them. And then their whole image of themselves goes crumbling down. Their sense of superiority is crushed into dust. Their status at the best isn’t compromised, it’s proven to be untrue. The phoniness of the rich and powerful gets exposed by the hands of those they desperately tried to convince were meek.

I shouldn’t be able to make it. I CAN’T make it. That glass ceiling being broken opens the floodgates for everyone else to follow! The cats voting against me don’t actually think I don’t stand a chance in my matches, they’d just rather pedal their bullshit for the sake of their own safety. They recognize my talents. They see the real. I am the exact opposite of anything you’d expect from a glamorous, cover girl type of woman. I am vile, nasty, angry, oud mouthed, aggressive, violent -- I come from the mud and I wear that fact proudly. It’s what makes me who I am. It’s what makes me the hardest bitch in the industry. Nobody else can do what I do. When I get in the ring, put the dukes up and tell you to test my gangster, you better believe you’re getting knocked down on your ass. It can be in that squared circle, it can be at night in the alleys, it can be done in secret in the underground leagues, it can be anywhere and anytime - when I’m called to fight there isn’t a soul around who is outworking me! That fact’s been known about me since the day I was born. It’s apparent from looking at me, the only way you don’t see it is if you turn a blind eye. The top guys don’t want that level of griminess around their parts. The elite don’t want to see the “filth” taking up space wherever they’re at. They don’t want to be face to face with the proud, the powerful, those who actually have CHARACTER from being forged by fire rather than made by their privilege and wealth. Take away the bells and whistles, the aesthetic, the cash, or whatever pre-made pecking order set in place….stack us up against each other and we’ll know who should be in the other’s position. For the undeserving it’s better for things to be the way they are. To simply tell themselves they’re great by default rather than let the chips fall as they may and let things turn out the right way. The way that sees an even playing field with the actually deserving getting their due.

The way that makes them irrelevant.

You want a poster girl of these air headed aristocrats? You want to see one of these elite who’d rather keep me underneath them? Would you like to get a physical representation of that contrarian voice in the back that always has to keep my type on those loser’s end? Enter my opponent for the Athena’s cup, the last stop to my undisputed ascent to Odyssey’s main event, the last coffin nail I must hammer down to lay all of my detractors to rest, let me talk about callous, self righteous, condescending Jonetta Stone!

Ohhh, how we just can’t seem to get away from each other! I’m sure you wish you could have lost me a long time ago. Jonetta and I have been neck and neck going on eight months now. As Jonetta was starting to make her strides as a singles competitor, I hit the scene on the pink brand and started making moves right there with her. We progressed practically blow for blow. I won a match, she won a match. I got the Goddesses title bout at Final Destination 2, she got the Ascension to the Heavens match on the same card. We both failed and then we both bounced back directly into the Chamber. We’re both out here with the same track record, taking the same path, but to Jonetta there’s something that divides the two of us. Our paths are about to split into a two way lane which puts her ahead of me and me firmly behind her. She acknowledges me as a good opponent, sure. She “lowers” herself into throwing a few drops of pity my way with some throwaway comments of supposedly being better than the rest….but at the end of the day she still gets in front of that camera and runs me down as a failure. Speaking of me like I’m the dirt on her shoe. When my name is brought up she has no choice but present me as that undesirable who can’t reach the heights she believes are meant for her and her alone.

The Athena’s Cup is meant to be an affirmation for her. An object she can hold up as beaming support to the image of herself she’s spent a whole life cramming down other’s throats. A warm assurance that she’ll never have to worry about the tables turning against her as the haves get ousted by the have-nots. I sat across from her in that ring, listening to her talk herself up and I don’t think even she buys into everything she says one hundred percent. She says it because she has to. Her words two days ago felt even more hollow. Even more of a defense mechanism put up by a fraud. A bunch of manufactured energy and bravado that comes out for her to play tough and act as a keyboard thug, but was nowhere to be found when she had that blade to her throat.

Now that she’s miles away from me she wants to call me all talk and no action. Really? That certainly goes against the story of my career to now. It definitely goes against that trusty Chamber clip you can check out on the OWA Network. You know, the one where I pinned your shoulders clean to the mat 1-2-3, defeating you as I told you I would a whole month beforehand. Shit, it goes against that moment with the knife from last week that you want to puff your chest out over and re-imagine. You were talking reckless so rather than just tell you how I can fuck you up, I SHOWED you by whipping out that blade and letting you know how I can cut your tongue out. The only reason I didn’t spill your blood all over that canvas is because I wanted to save the moment for the right place. I want you to make it to Boiling Point, in MY country, so I can beat you one on one and soundly confirm all my “talk” with legitimate action. You questioned my capabilities, so I gave you a quick taste of the lengths I’m willing to go; a blunt example of just what kind of atrocities I can commit against you.

The lack of follow through on slitting your wasn’t me pussying out, it wasn’t even me showing mercy temporarily, it was a selfish decision on my part. That blade of mine has cut through club leaders, killers, hitmen, you name it. I spent my life in the jungle, going to war in Sonora and that blade got me through the worst you could think of. Why waste that blade on the likes of you when you aren’t even close to filling the shoes of those men I put away for my survival? You aren’t worth it. I don’t want to give you the glory of being thought of as a woman that needed to be slain to be defeated. I want to end you in the most humiliating way possible, one that you could live to see the aftermath of. Don’t get me wrong, I’m still going to do some damage to ya. It’ll all pale in comparison to that knife, you’ll WISH I took you out that quick. I’m going to enjoy this moment. Take the pleasure that comes with this match nice and slow. You want dark? You want horrifying? You’re going to get it. But I aint like that corny ass Jaywalker nerd you like to gush over so much. I aint going to botch the job in the end. My victim ain’t getting back up. When you start leaking….that’s your hopes and dreams pouring out onto the floor. That’ll be your soul leaving ya body. And your chances of getting back up will be getting tossed out the window. Jaywalker was a self absorbed clown just like you. He had an edge, yes, but the sort of violence I embraced to him was only a means to an end. He treated my brand of violence as something he could dip in and out of while keeping up his frilly image…..I never leave that zone. I’ve let it define me. I choose to be personified by that violence! I aint a tourist when it comes to this shit. My HOME is in the trenches and I bring that home with me wherever I go. See what happened to your boy at the end of that feud you referenced. You left that part out for some reason. I’ve had plenty of blows to the head so my memories aren’t the best, but I can clearly describe how your idol was exposed as being not about that life and got his lunch ate by the very man he tried to suppress. When the day came for the big match, he was left on the floor wheezing and asking for rags for his wounds. Where’d he go from there? A slow descent before falling off entirely. He faced the real deal in Sekaichi and got read for who he really was: a no guts, weak pendejo with no convictions or ounce of toughness in his body….Now that I think about it, this all sounds accurate to what your future holds.

Face it. You’re full of it, and YOU KNOW you’re full of it. You know you’re living a lie. But instead of admitting it you want to place your truth on me to protect yourself. I’m the one that has to be faking so your little world can make any sort of sense. You want to accuse me of hiding behind my gangbanger persona to mask who I really am in the OWA….heh….come on now. The only mask I’ve ever put on in my life was when I was coming through to put someone in a bodybag. In that respect, I guess you’re right. I do have my mask on currently. You have to when you conduct the business I conduct. I’ve got past the gated community of OWA’s elite, put my foot through the door of the luxurious mansion that houses Odyssey’s handpicked big stars and for the Athena’s Cup Finals I might as well be in your room staring straight at you with the nina...ready to blow your mind in more ways than one. I am going to leave the entire viewing audience speechless as I tear you apart limb from limb. Leave you immobile as I lift up your battered carcass and cram your bitter words down your throat.

My life in Mexico and what I’ve learned from it aren’t anything to be ashamed of. Mexico IS home to me and while things were ugly, the woman it made me into is what I can look back on fondly. It made me into a go-getter. It made me into a woman who can look into the eyes of utter death and move in on it with unflinching nerves, to outright defy it! My home wasn’t “happy” at its core but there were plenty of happy times. The times where I got to see myself progress. The times where the fruits of my labor came to be. The times where a Jonetta Stone would come to my city with a plan to get one over on us and would washout in the next two or three days with their teeth punched out and everything they held dear taken from ‘em. Women of your nature get ran up on everyday in my parts, and no matter how much they think they have what it takes to hang it never works out. When shit hits the fan you and I both know who folds, no amount of talking out your neck is going to change that. “Broken woman.” Pfft. Fuck out of here. You can’t break the unbreakable, Jonetta! You think a broken woman gets out of the situation I was in? No way in hell. Broken women are my peers who are out there strung out or dead in a ditch because they allowed themselves to be tricked into accepting less from propaganda pushed by people like you. But next week at the Athena’s Cup, the status quo ain’t getting accepted. I’m not falling for your tricks or folding for your narrative. You don’t get to decide who I am, nor do you decide what goes on in Odyssey. None of this is in YOUR hands.

What happens in Mexico City is going to be dedicated to all my hustlers, to all my people in the bottom that you thought should be discounted and forgotten. We don’t just exist in a corner of the world anymore, we’re worldwide, we’re major! Me holding up the Athena’s Cup will be me holding up my city; my whole COUNTRY! You don’t have to like it but you know it’s coming. YOU KNOW YOUR ASS IS GETTING BEAT WHEN THAT BELL RINGS! Make all the snide remarks you want, show who you really are by foolishly writing me off as a “wailing bitch” - I smell the fear on you, doll. Your chickens are coming home to roost! Karma is closing in! Come July 18th, what you spent your whole life avoiding is being dropped right at your front doorstep at the worst possible time, what should be YOUR coronation based on the way things “should” be. You’ll be made to see the pauper get heralded as the princess, all while having to swallow the fact you really aren't a top dog...in actuality you’re the one under the table getting fed the scraps.

Re: OWA Promos July 9th 2020, 1:45 am by **Devi Krysis**

Fresh Meat

Atlantis: Meltdown Promo

The Scene take place in Devi's home in Chapel Hill, North Carolina, as she look at the participants in the Openweight Battle Royal.

Well, well...look at the these combatants in the battle royal. Ryo Sakazaki, Theodor Pavel, Oliver Harpe, Bada Dik Baap, Maelstrom, Azurine Vebbins, Gwen Harper, Liara Lawson, Rebecca Brookes, Alexander King, Daniel Horror, Revy, Mizuko Nishiyama, Jacob Nighttime, Jack Dio, Mark Michaels, The Udy

Mmm...fresh meat! Especially when I already encountered The Huntress Gwen Harper on my debut and teamed up Jacob Nighttime in the Mixed Tag Team match at the last Atlantis. But i'm concerned about the other people.

Like Revy and Mizuko Nishiyama those two after beating the BWO last Atlantis, certainly I need to look out for these two. Azurine Vebbins can't speaking proper English for the life of me, how would I translate her sentence in her promos.

Devi is drinking her water as she continues

Let's see Rebecca Brookes a women who put a hell of the match against Gwen Harper at the last Odyssey, nothing against this angel hopefully we gonna have a one on one match in our future as you know that the The Apex Bloodwolf strides for competition. Liara Lawson, The Sunset Saint who lives with sex, drugs, and rock n' roll. You're badass that gives no shit, hell you knocked off the Banshee on the last Odyssey, impressive!

Devi was intrigued by the competition but as she concerned about this individual

Let's see...oh! Maelstrom this is the man that had a debut match against Michael Bishop at Kingdom, and don't give me wrong but the Bloodwolf scent that evil aura within The Harbinger of Darkness well should I be intimidated? Hell why would I be!

At Atlantis: Meltdown my goal is to survive and hunger. Eliminate the participants and once the dust settles, you looking at the next challenger to the OWA Openweight Championship. So if you come after me, you better start praying.

Devi eyes turned werewolf red as she say her final words while she laughing

RUN!

The wolf howls as the Camera fades

Re: OWA Promos July 8th 2020, 12:02 am by **Jonetta Stone**

The camera has a heatwave blur effect as it starts with a sky view within the Sonoran Desert. The scene changes closer to the ground where scorpions and spiders can be seen traversing on the ground, finally over small a dead lizard stomps down the right crocodile boot of Jonetta Stone. The camera goes up her long leg, and eventually reveals the rest of her in denim shorts and a wife-beater, topped off with her Ivory hockey mask. She looks to the brutal sun above as she speaks.

Two atypical women with a questionable relationship with the law to meet up for a knock-down, drag-out fight that’s sure to be as bitter as the two competitors in it…... I couldn’t ask for a better way to take on my demons and bury them into the ground. Yet, who could have seen this coming at the start of the tournament? Many no doubt thought the finals could be another chapter in the never-ending storied rivalry and companionship between Stephanie Matsuda and April Song, in their book of unresolved sexual tension. Others might have thought I’d overcome the odds to face Dulce Torres in the finals, to see if I could finally put the nail in the coffin I have built in my time ending her reign on top for good. Or maybe some imagined Llorona destroying the deck stacked against her to meet Stephanie, so they could have a bandana clad gang fight atmosphere where the good bad girl and the bad bad girl perform Lucharesu vs Lucha libre to decide who is the baddest “bitch” around. Instead, we get a fight with no heroes. Both the black sheep of OWA, the dark horses in the tournament who everyone feared could dash their hopes for a kinder Athena’s Cup winner this year. We have guaranteed the worst-case scenario everyone wanted to be avoided after Eris crushed their little hearts and gave them PTSD. For those watching at home waiting for the return of Odyssey in America, they dread in equal measure whichever foreign monster brings the cup back with her. For them, all that is to be decided is if that monster will be the street taught Assasin from down South or the wild trained Poacher from up North.

What kind of barren wasteland kind of scene have we made up for the people of OWA? They must think they're in Mad Max with the endless suffering and hopelessness. I take in this desert enjoying it all, knowing OWA will never escape the Athena’s Cup that haunts it.

I plan on being the only one who leaves Boiling Point without past demons weighing on my shoulder. On the road to exorcising what haunts me, I’ve seen wonders great and small. This tournament has been a showcasing of the changing of the guard! Who would have thought Morrighan would take could Stephanie? Or Llorona taking out both women she beat. Those are beloved names in OWA, April and Dulce pretty big, Stephanie arguably a full-on legend. While me? I have become that weight on others that will cause them to surely wish to rid themselves of me in the future just as I will my past with this Cup, but know that the bright future careers of the Irish and Mexican Banshees come after me! It doesn’t get to skip over me as it falls from Dulce and Stephanie to Morrighan McDonell and La Llorona, their time on top comes after I get my shine. You want to know why I was ready to have La Llorona’s blade draw blood before I’d EVER back down?! It’s because I’d rather be put down than ever see the day where I sit idly by while more women, lesser women, achieve their dreams over me again! I’ve seen multiple rookies win that Goddess Championship. I’m seeing Eris unable to even show up as a true world champion and take on competition like when she faced Jessy Saxon, and that’s on the rare occasion that she does wrestle! A lot of people give me shit over the fact I was tag team champion before wrestling a match or how I was carried by the Dollhouse, and you know what? I’ll say it. That was preferential treatment, I knew people, I knew the host of Final Destination and I knew the new tag champions, so it was easy to get a great high paying contract and be champion with my girls. But so what? At least I made something of it all, unlike over half of the women I see prance their way to the top. I wasn’t there on the night we won the championships, but everyone who thinks I was carried seems to forget I was not in the match we lost those championships either! I DEFENDED THE TAG TEAM BELTS MULTIPLE TIMES SUCCESSFULLY! WE PUT THE TAG DIVISION ON THE MAP WHILE OWA DIDN’T CARE ABOUT THE DIVISION FOR MONTHS BEFOREHAND! And people dare try to say I’ve ever coasted on anything. While we were tag team champions, I was the one arbitrary put on the Odyssey roster and making dates wrestling on this brand while we also dominated on Olympus, and why is that? Because Odyssey needed someone like me, it needed someone to fill up the cards and show up to work, and I did just that each and every time! Which is fine with me, people are supposed to put in the work in this business and love their craft! What brings out my inner Karen is when people want to build up this narrative that tries to mask that I’m not In the upper-echelon of talents and hard workers on this damn roster. It really sticks in my craw that I come back from dealing with random idiots on Atlantis in the week only to have La Llorona, who was doing god knows what that week, talk to me about coasting and privilege while the aura of her gangbanger history masks the fact that she was all talk and no action!

You know Llorona, some people in this business actually do slit throats rather than play mind games and be all huff and puff. I actually look up to a man who did just that. Your history is dark, but at the end of the day in the ultimate hit to your pride you’ve spent all these years obeying the ways of people you consider so soft and privileged. That’s the ultimate irony in this. To live in proper society, you’ve had to censor and shackle yourself to the point you are a neutered dog compared to the Coyote you used to be. While me? I’m still the person I have always been, I still get to go around the world hunting animals and doing every gruesome act I grew up doing. It’s the story of this match, you will be unable to take out a human in high society, and I get to gut some bitch I find unattended. You seem to have silly doubts I’ll make it to the arena like I’m some naive little girl, I’m a poacher, I’ve been to worse shitholes than Mexico. The third world is my vacation spot to hunt for new fur coats, trust that I’ll make it to your little arena and as usual have the time of my life in the most disgusting of places where my power thrives the most. You try to scare me with this country, but deep down we know you’re the one who has the skeletons here that send shivers up YOUR spine. Sure, you’ll have cheering fans, not like people getting cheered has ever saved them from me before, but I know a broken soul when I see one. This place, this country, is where all the worst things in your life have happened and getting your ass kicked by me is just going to be another one. You call Mexico home, what a joke. People like you don’t get to have homes, homes are where people are happy and living their lives to the fullest with the people they love, knowing they’ll survive another day. “Home” as a concept is just a defence mechanism people like you have learned to use to make outsiders think you’re invincible on some sort of sacred ground that protects you, when the truth is we’re on the bloodied soil where you’ve lost countless people and you had to deal with rival gangs. What’s so invulnerable about that? You feel more comfortable and safe in America, that’s why you ran away from all your problems in Mexico in the first place. If anything, I smell desperation on you. You really pulled out a switchblade to try intimidating me, because you know I have your number. You know you aren’t up to snuff. When I snuff you out, you know you’ll just be joining an entire army of Sonora bastards that have been taken out in this country before you, you’ll go down screaming mourning your sad little life just like the creature you got named after you wailing bitch.

Jonetta cranks her neck to the side and looks at the camera as if speaking to all of OWA, behind her mask.

And with the end of the last banshee from my past put down, I will be the one in charge of Damocles, the sword above all your heads! You all know, neither Llorona nor I are the types to miss, we are dead center target hitters and that means this match for the “Athena’s Cup” is truly a match for a world title at any time we choose. This is better than a championship bout, as far as I’m concerned. You don’t typically get to decide when you become world champion. You don’t normally get to savour the atmosphere of everyone knowing a championship reign can end at any moment by your hand. But I will. I will get to decide who is the next Diantha Rosso, decide when is the next Hardcore Havoc ending.

Now the camera expands to show Jonetta’s Ram Rebel, as Jonetta backs away and gets inside the pickup. She drives off, sending dust in the camera view.

Re: OWA Promos July 7th 2020, 11:57 pm by **Holden Tudics**

Boiling Point III Promo 1: Push Back To Square

(The camera opens inside a greasy pawn shop just as the bell above the door dings, ironically announcing the entrance of The Derelict in the most benign way possible. He surveys the shop's wares as he steps inside with his bindle over his shoulder and a paper bag in hand.)

Pawn Shop Owner: Can I help you with something son?

(The Derelict stops perusing, letting his gaze naturally land on the store owner with a confounded scowl that would infer taking offense to anyone addressing him directly with such friendly candor.)

The Derelict: Few years ago I put a Gibson SG up for hock. Wouldn't happen to still have it floating around here?

(Derelict spins a nearby lazy susan of acoustic guitars with disinterest as the shop keep sighs in a hollow act of commiseration.)

Pawn Shop Owner: Probably not. Wouldn't have the ticket on you just in case I have it in back would'ja?

(The Derelict lifts his eyebrow in bemusement as the shop keep visibly starts to resent the tall man's silent nature. After indulging in another pause for the hell of it, the Derelict cocks his head to the side and cracks his neck.)

The Derelict: Wouldn't think so. S'been awhile. It's not in the ol' bindle, and I've had so many pairs of pants just dry rot off of me over the years that I doubt I'd be able to pocket fish it out magically. Doesn't matter I suppose. I never played, just found it in a yard sale in '93. Probably wishful thinking on my part to even wonder if it's still in one piece, much less in this store.

Pawn Shop Owner: Anything else I can do ya for, friend?

(The Derelict approaches the counter and slings his bindle down on it, letting the broomstick handle rap against the glass display counter loud enough to almost make the store owner lose his sleazy cool composure. He unravels the handkerchief on the end of the stick to reveal his old railroad spike and a bottle of Night Train still containing a generous swig. The two men hover over the contents, both seemingly bewildered by what lay on the serviette.)

The Derelict: Worth anything?

Pawn Shop Owner: Maker's mark indicates 1820's...could've been one of the very spikes to pin America's first railway system S'got a generous patina to it, and is in surprisingly good shape for such an aged relic. God, I sound like my wife. Doubt I could give you anything for the Night Train though. The bottle's nice, but it's pretty contemporary.

The Derelict: How much you think a museum would give for it?

Pawn Shop Owner: Museums don't dish out. They take donations. They are ponzi schemes if you ask me. Can't get a better read on American history anywhere other than inside of a pawn shop if you ask me. We buy and sell history for a living.

The Derelict: Well you're a sentimental old cuss aren'tcha? How much you take for this piece of American history?

Pawn Shop Owner: Welllllll, ya see I'd have to find a buyer and this sorta thing has a niche market to it. Til then, it's just taking up room in my display case for the tourists to gawk at while they're hocking their grandma's pocket watch. I'd give you maybe...twenty...twenty five dollars for it.

(The Derelict sighs, but then stops to roll around the number in his head momentarily, as if considering the offer. His eyes snap back from dancing in thought with a wide gaze lit up with a good idea.)

The Derelict: Ya trade for it?

Pawn Shop Owner: Maybe. I got plenty of junk in here that I could swap with you that's of equal or lesser value.

(Derelict peers down into the display case beneath his bindle. He plants a finger on the glass at a pair of green jagged brass knuckles carved into the shape of a dragon.)

The Derelict: How 'bout that?

Pawn Shop Owner: Rolex? Keep dreamin'

The Derelict: No, next to it.

Pawn Shop Owner: The knux? I'd hate to steal from you, friend. Tell ya what, that spike's going to look better in that display case than that jar of lighters next to it. How 'bout I throw those in two?

The Derelict: Not a smoker myself, but that stuff could definitely make for currency out on the road.

(The shop owner smirks and extends his hand, his eyes smiling behind their half-closed lids, clearly ready to take advantage of some crazy hobo rube who ran across a jackpot on accident. Derelict stands still in thought for a long moment, before clasping the pawn shop owner's hand.)

The Derelict: You got yourself a deal brother.

Pawn Shop Owner: Glad to hear it, now let me just trade that spike out for-

The Derelict: Don't bother, I'll help myself...friend.

(Derelict jabs the railroad spike down through the glass, stabbing it upright in the wood of the display case bottom. Before the pawn shop owner can react, Derelict scoops the jar of half-empty Bics and the ornamental knuckle dusters out of the glass, hucks them into his hanky, expertly knots the rag around his pole, slings it over his shoulder, and heads for the door. The pawn shop owner snaps out of his shock and quickly scurries under the counter in search of his trusty sawed off. As he fumbles to load the shells into the barrels, he hears the familiar tinkle of the front door opening and pops up just in time to see the door slowly close behind The Derelict. The pawn store owner quickly slides over the remaining counter top and bursts out of the front door ready to blast the first thing that moves, only to find a barren main street. The blood filling his cheeks suddenly subsides. He smiles and turns back to enter his shop, content in the idea that he'd ran off the vagrant and gotten the better of him in a deal that could keep the lights on for years to come. Just as he ducks back inside, Derelict pops around a nearby alleyway corner and starts walking in the opposite direction.)

"People take me for a sucker because they believe just because I don't value materialistic things that I somehow don't know that certain things can hold value...let me explain: hand me a dollar and odds are I'll throw it back in your face. It doesn't change the fact that it's legal tender, but to me it's just paper. Trade me a sandwich for a rare baseball card, I'll feel like I walked away from that deal as the one with something that holds true sustenance and worth. Let me sleep in your dog's house for some jewelry I stole from someone else. To me that only means I'm getting a peaceful sleep. I neither lose or gain anything from handing over precious stones. Let me trade you a car for a water purifier, and so on, and so forth. You get the idea, don't you Bull? You understand that the high life is only window dressings for four very basic necessities that none of us could ever live without. Paint the picture with whatever precious oils you wish, or smear it on the walls in your own excrement, so long as it depicts those four tangibles that keep you alive to see tomorrow no matter how you portray the still life. Food, water, shelter, and the high ground. That's all you need because that's all there really is. Without food, you starve to death. Doesn't matter if you're eating high on the hog and indulging in meat so tender that you don't even have to chew it, or if you're scraping grubs off of the bottom of a rock. It's the same thing, they're both sustenance. Likewise it doesn't matter if you're chugging down Evian or sucking on a fresh puddle before it turns to mud, water's water. So long as you're not in Flint, Michigan that is. In that case, water's gasoline. Live in a home? a hotel? a hostel? a hole in the ground? They're all the same thing. The one thing that doesn't change though? the high ground. Call it a food chain, call it a caste system, call it Darwinism, economic oppression, or simply one man in battle standing over the other. No matter how you paint the picture, one thing stays the same every time."

(Derelict lifts one hand up and plateaus it just above his head, and then lowers the other clasping the paper bag just below his knee.)

"One man's up, and one man's down. You're up right now, Bull. That title you hold? it signifies your status as apex predator of OWA. You're the physical embodiment of the high ground in all of it's forms. You try to hold everyone else down to stop them from being on your level. You rake in that champion's purse and live a comfortable life with all of the amenities. You have a nice house, a pampered existence, and the respect of all of those who consider you a peer. They're not your peers though, are they? even if they've held that belt, even if they live in the same neighborhood as you, even if you've traded wins and losses with them before. All that matters is the one thing that currently sets you apart: the Omega Heavyweight Championship Title. I don't even mean the physical thing. It's nice, very pretty to look at, but the title that it represents is what really holds true dominion over the land. A king can take off his crown and still reign sovereign after all. A king can't however fall in battle to another nation and still remain king. They become a former king, and the land they once ruled that was taken in battle becomes their former kingdom. OWA is yours now because you rule now. No one else holds precedence over you, which means you are a man to be feared. Nobody stays on top without shedding a little blood, and nobody stays the best unless they slay anyone who can cast doubt in their mind over their position on top. You're special, Bull. I've said it for awhile now. I admire you, I indulge in seeing your handiwork in that ring, and I revel at the opportunity to oppose you. I don't want your belt, your life, or your respect. I want the dark hold you have over every living soul in OWA. I want them to see me and know that I'm better because I hold a top title in this company. I've been saying from day one that I'm here for a fight, and so far the only people that have given it to me are you and some little old Japanese woman with nothing to live for because her career is circling the drain. I want dominion over your kingdom, Connors. I've wanted it since before it was even yours, but you beat your own tough exiting female legend to capture this spot and earn everyone's fear. However there's something rotten in the city of OWA, something that jeopardizes your safety and status, something that makes the ground under your feet quake and crumble: I'm not afraid of you Connors. Talk your big talk and fight your big fights, and take every opportunistic shot you can, but to me it all holds the stench of urine and feces that only comes from fear. You're afraid I can take it all away because you've set foot in the ring with me before and seen what I can do. For that reason alone you should be afraid. I should have a yellow streak going down my trousers as well because the last time we faced off you walked away with the win. That too is cause for fear. I do believe I have the advantage though because it doesn't matter if I win, so long as I leave my mark, so long as I keep you looking over your shoulder in expectation of the next time I decide to shake your kingdom at it's foundation. The only thing worse than being a conquered king is being sovereign over a ghost town, and that's exactly what you'll become if I manage to not only tarnish your ego but also the prestige of the title you hold. Nobody likes, respects, or fears a paper champion Bull, and I could make you just that if I so choose..."

(The Derelict begins crossing some train tracks. As he does so, another vagrant walks toward him from the opposite direction. Derelict opens the paper bag to reveal a platinum pocket watch. He hands it off to his fellow vagrant, who slides a full bottle of Night Train into his bindle.)

The Derelict: Take a lighter out of there too if you want. Hell, take two so long as you give me the high sign when that pawn shop asshole starts heading my way.

(The hobo nods silently to Derelict.)

The Derelict: I'm going to start pulling spikes out here 'til then. Dumb ass thought a spike with a little wear on it was from the turn of the century because I bent the head a little. Make sure to pawn that watch at a different shop. He may be up his own ass about historical artifacts, but odds are he'll recognize a Rolex that went missing.

(The hobos nod to one another and part ways as Derelict walks the tracks, kicking his toe at every spike he passes on the rail.)

"I may not be a materialist man, but I understand basic human needs. Sometimes the paradigm needs a little help shifting in order for everyone to make it out in one piece. Sometimes the paradigm tilts too far one way and someone falls over the edge. Don't worry though, Bull. We're in this together. If you fall, I fall. If fate tugs you too far in one direction, I go with you. It's like we're joined at the wrist with the bullrope of destiny, forever tethered in perfect balance and harmony. I wont disgrace you or the title you hold, Bull. I'd do it to others, but not you. As much as I'd love to put the fear of nature in you, I know it'll make me look just as weak as you trying to grow eyes in the back of your head while trying to dodge the big bad boogeyman that I am. I need to beat you, have to beat you, and I think that's why they've given us the metaphysical freedom of physical restraint. Nobody gives a damn what I do to you, what bodily harm we do to one another, what weapons we procure and use in battle, so long as we maintain the banal rule of keeping our wrists in a noose while we do it. It's childish if you think about it, but childish is just another word for primal. This will be primal. We'll swing on one another like we've never seen a fight, bounce whatever comes within the line of sight off of one another's heads like we've never been introduced to civil combat, and claw and scrape and stab and stomp for survival's sake without a hint of shame in our actions. People say fights wont be pretty because they expect a bloody outcome, but this wont be pretty because it'll lack all finesse, showmanship, and basic understanding of fight discipline that's been honed across the globe since the dawn of humanity. We'll fight like the first two men who ever laid hands on one another with the violent intent of killing. And for what?; a morsel of food, a murky swing of primordial pond water, shelter beneath a couple of palm fronds, or over the highest point in a tree that kept them safe from natural predators? Nobody's ever accused us of being original, Bull. We're not unique butterflies with ornate markings. We're dumb ugly moths smacking our head into a light bulb. We've never been accused of putting on airs. You wear what you wore to the gym to the ring and I wear whatever I can get my hands on. We're not men of creature comforts, shiny things don't catch our passing glance, and telling from my lifestyle and your figure, we're both men who'll eat whatever you put in front of them. We're not picky, we're not extra, we're not pretending this is going to be anything but a fight. You know what's on the line, you know the stakes, you know the terms and conditions, and you know that you can beat me again because you've beaten me before. Are things any different this time? Yeah, more's on the line than ever before and you're going to be tied to me like the dumb scrapyard dog that you are. When this is over one of us eats and the other goes hungry. One of us sleeps comfortably while the other tosses and turns for the rest of their life, one of us drinks the nectar of supremacy while the other goes parched in obscurity. One of us has the higher ground and a rope around their arm. The other? The other's left to hang. The king is dead. Long live the king."

(The Derelict keeps walking until he disappears down the tracks as a train whistle sounds in the night.)

Re: OWA Promos July 7th 2020, 7:36 pm by **VaeVictisBD**

Pattern Recognition

"The Prodigal Son" Finnegan Wakefield

"A man is but a product of his thoughts. What he thinks he becomes."

For a little over a year now I have seemingly been walking a thin line between mediocrity and relevance. A series of big match losses have been looming over my head like a dark cloud. And because of those losses, a lot has changed when it comes to the public perception of who I am as a competitor. Those dark clouds have seemingly covered my moments where I was shining brighter than the sun from the time I was the OWA World Champion. Every opponent I have had in the last year have seemingly poisoned the well water and make it a point to say I am no longer capable of being that ace status competitor I once was. And Stark, you've made it very clear over recent weeks you're of the same opinion. To use your own words, you believe that part of me -- the guy who fought tooth and nail with the OWA World Championship, a reign you yourself have said was one paramount and defied expectations -- is a Finnegan Wakefield that is long dead. And you've admitted that you're perhaps lucky that part of me is dead because that level I could compete at, should I find that part of who I was that can wield that resolve again, would be a major threat to your championship reign. And I agree with you. When I am competing at that level, when I fight in that ring going that extra gear, I'll be transparent; I know I could defeat you. Without a shadow of a doubt. And that might seem arrogant of me to say but, quite frankly, pattern recognition is something I have always obliged by and when I compete at the zenith of my ability there is a whole year of evidence; I can best anyone that dares test my mettle. You're definitely not the first to think that is something I am no longer capable of, Stark. Far from it. I have spent a year hearing people say that those days have come and gone. From opponents lined up against me, to not-so-quiet whispers as I walk down the halls, even from some fans who, like you and the many others, have seen those big match loses and have lost faith in me and what I was capable of. Truth be told; I lost faith in me. I doubted myself and I know for a fact that only made each encounter with each opponent more at a handicap as I was fighting both them as well as myself. And I lost. I lost a lot. Each one making the next obstacle seem bigger and harder to overcome. I am man enough to admit that I lost those matches, I made mistakes, I tripped up on every hurdle and fell flat on my face. I am also man enough to admit I started to doubt I would ever be able to rekindle that flame that put me at that level again.

I have had some of the hardest hits to my career in recent months. But I have taken those hits and have kept moving forward.

If there was any part of me that *knew* for a fact I couldn't compete at that level again, I assure you I wouldn't have even entertained the idea of coming back when I did. I would have hung up my boots and called it a career. I would rather retire as a disgraced world champion who failed the promotion, his fans, and himself than come back to just be a complacent figure toeing the company line. The last year may have not been one very favorable to me, it sure as hell damned me to being underestimated by everyone I got in the ring with but you should know better than most, Stark. You've seen my career. You've observed me longer than most here have the benefit of studying my peaks and valleys. You should know, better than most, I thrive best when I am underestimated. I have built a career on being this stick-bodied figure, with the shackles of doing things in an honorable way, without any ambition to be an entertaining presence in this sport and I have spent years with competitors turning their noses up at me and deeming me a flavor of the month that will fade away any moment. But I have stayed. And I have broken a lot of noses that were turned up at me by doing so. You and I were both in a place that gave people their honors but I came here and I earned it instead. I earned everything I have achieved over my career. So that begs to question why, with this pattern recognition, would you believe I couldn't recapture that magic? Why would you doubt it when you saw with your own eyes I brought it out from nothing before?

Why would you doubt my ability to rise when I do it oh so many times?

Maybe it's just wishful thinking on your part. Maybe there is a part of you deep down that just hopes that I continue my trend of last season by choking during a big match. I mentioned pattern recognition, I can't fault you for seeing a pattern and feeling more confident in the outcome that favors you. But you'd be a fool if you believe victory will be assured. This opportunity is just a little bit more motivating. I haven't been in a title match for over a year -- since coming back to the Omega Wrestling Alliance. I haven't used any rematch clauses. I didn't barge into the management office and demanded anything. I have been biding my time, waiting for the moment where I felt I deserved an opportunity to gun for championship gold and when you laid out the open invitation, proclaiming that you could beat anybody? Well, that just felt like the right time. And if we're being completely honest? I agreed with what you had to say. The OWA Television Championship needs to be elevated. Because it's recent history has been, for the want of a better word, embarrassing. It went from a workhorse championship that was defended all the time, used as a vessel to forge the next main event caliber athletes, force them to push themselves until they either made it or broke trying. But as of late it has been the proverbial punchline of Olympus -- rather, the OWA as a whole. It has been demoted as the proverbial clown horn for people who make this sport out to look like a bit of a joke. The matches were nothing short of fever dreams and epileptic slap fights between competitors who don't even take their craft seriously much less value bringing up the titles prestige. It was put on the stage of Final Destination and how was it represented? A wine-drunken gypsy and a young man pretending to be the messiah having a match I would generously describe as a shit-stain on professional wrestling. And *that* was what followed up the belter of a Hell in a Cell between myself and Keelan? My efforts, spilling my blood in that ring, breaking my bones trying to redeem myself, was eclipsed by that fucking nonsense? I hate sounding like the buzzkill, really I do, but I found that to be a slap in the face. That what poured salt in the wounds enough to really get my act back together. It gave me something else to put on the bucket list of things I want to achieve. And one of those advents is to give that championship a much-needed renaissance. One that liberates it from association with the circus acts and talents that couldn't bring its value up because they broke under the pressure and allowed it to fall from grace. To that, I agree with you Stark.

But I don't think you're the guy who is best suited to do it.

All due respect. We've known each other for quite some time and we have hardly ever seen eye-to-eye but, despite that, I do actually hold some respect for you. I know when you have your heart set on accomplishing something, I see it in your eyes and hear it in your tone, you mean it with absolutely zero doubt you will achieve it. And if words alone could get the job done, I'd put my utter faith in your ability to do so. But, again I fall back on my assessment of pattern recognition, your championship ventures have a lot to be desired. Bitter experience, I believe you called it. As a champion you've fallen off the metaphorical horse a number of times so it is an admirable quality in my eyes that you can get up, brush yourself off, and look to get back on it. In a sense, it makes us more kindred spirits than I would have originally pegged us for. But if we're determining who can hold that Television Championship, who can bring it up from the nadir it currently resides in terms of its prestige? Well, I think history speaks volumes about who is best qualified to elevate it. After all, I have done it with two championships prior. The OWA World Championship I don't feel I need to go into great detail about, you observed it, you stated it was a showing of dominance through sheer persistence. But you also have been witness to another championship which, now that I think about it, was in the exact same situation the Television Championship finds itself in. You know, the championship that has become the laughing stock title? The one that people always believed they were above because it became a belt associated with the low-brow and the low-ceiling cap? I'm not going to mention that egomaniac administrated wasteland of a company by name, but you know who I am referring to and the title I speak of. That lineage was laughed at. That prestige was long-since proclaimed irrelevant to the point most champions that held it considered it a burden. Similar to how you describe that Television Championship for you, actually. When I made my intentions clear that I wanted to win it I was met with ridicule for setting my sights on a prize so low. Again, something amazingly history has found itself repeating when I decided, despite beating Bull Connors by technical submission, waved off any possibility to challenge for the Omega Heavyweight Championship in favor of keeping true to my challenge for that championship you hold. Despite the ridicule, despite the gaslighting of my accomplishment, I took that title out of the lights of mediocrity and made it mean something. Made it a key for the future greats to take and use it to unlock that potential within themselves to become the greats they wanted to be.

Let's just forget Fiora stole it from me, alright? Simp undid everything I accomplished.

The take away is that I have brought a championship out of that obscurity before. I took what most competitors considered trash and turned it into a treasure. Well, as much of a treasure can be valued in that place nowadays. I digress. That being said, you are off to a good start in your own right with two defenses in quick succession. Hats off to you for that. While I might be a little bit peeved it was in fact you that walked away as champion in your most recent defense and not Keelan, denying me a second chance at redeeming myself for that loss a Final Destination 2, I'd be lying if I said I don't see you as a great challenge to overcome. It now feels like a big match situation; a do or die matter. For both of us, a chance to break an ongoing frequent in our careers. Your tendencies to drop championships before you become important enough a figure for the scribes of history to glorify and for me, falling at the ever crucial matches that could build my career back up to my once ace status. Redemption on both fronts, hanging in the balance in a war of convictions. Stark, I don't intend at all to fall. You may believe the Finnegan Wakefield that could be the ace, the one who had a dominant reign as OWA World Champion is dead and gone. But every match since coming over to Olympus I have felt closer and closer to that. I feel it in my motions, I feel it in my execution and, you've seen it yourself, it's showing in the results. Undefeated since coming over to the brand, and one can't say it's solely because of a dip in competition. I've made it my long term goal, no matter how long it takes, to leave a legacy on professional wrestling that won't be forgotten anytime soon. Unlike my OWA World Championship reign, something that will be celebrated should the day come where I can no longer be in that ring. The Omega Heavyweight Championship might be that destination. But that OWA Television Championship is the key. As I mentioned last week, sometimes a purpose is more valuable to a man than prestige. While my purpose might not be the most original, my dream of becoming one of the greatest wrestlers of all time far from solely my own, it is still mine to chase and realize. Being OWA World Champion was a dream come true, but far from my magnum opus. It's not enough to hang my boots on. It was just the beginning -- the foundation of what I am capable of. I will reach that pinnacle again, but I am in no hurry. I don't feel that clock ticking down like I used to. I can take my time, I have started from the bottom again and like a phoenix from the ashes -- the witness the descent. But I am rising from them, my opposition only fanning the flames.

So I welcome you to doubt I'll ever be that version of me again. You might be the opponent that brings it back.

I want you to do me a favor, Stark. I want you to give me one of the greatest fights of your life. I don't want a good night for Stark, I don't want an arbitrary percentage of your full potential. I don't want what you presented to Nathan Fiora -- doing so would defeat the purpose of raising the Television Championship. No, I want the best you can possibly bring. Nothing less. I want you to treat this like it's not for some lesser title but rather one that holds the same significance as the world championship you one day wish to hold in order to feel your career objective to be complete. But in the aftermath of Boiling Point, while you see the Television Championship as a burden that holds you down, it will not be yours to bare much longer."

Re: OWA Promos July 3rd 2020, 11:58 pm by **"The Golden Voice"**

Maelstrom’s Family Home
Location Unknown

OWA Promos - Page 9 E4c41607-7f57-43c9-8f6f-2121efeda4ff

Inside the castle-like home of Maelstrom and Camille, the two of them are sitting in separate rooms. In a comfortable antechamber, Camille sits cuddled onto a couch holding a drink, staring adoringly towards a massive mahogany double door that was home to Maelstrom’s “meditation chamber”. The sound of chanting can be heard outside, but what is going on otherwise inside is a complete mystery to all for the moment.

Michael Bishop is a Gladiator.

He has admitted to us that he is essentially a slave, a mindless fool who volunteered to become a slave with only the power to amuse a mob. Now, far be it from me to mock someone for their penchant for violence. I’m not an accomplished fighter on his level, but I’ve trained in the grimy dojos of the wrestling world, fought in the brutal deathmatches that make most wrestling fans clutch their pearls. The screams of pain, the sounds of hearing bones break and wood pounding into flesh. Explosions, cuts, the crunch of vertebrae...all of them are almost intoxicating to me. But I’m not a slave to them. I understand that while wanton violence is intoxicating and addictive…

It serves no purpose.

What has your years of fighting brought you? What has all of your wrestling done? Have you made yourself a better man? Have you made others around you better with your lust for combat, your displays of physical prowess? You haven’t even so much as become a major champion here, something that MAELSTROM could accomplish in the blink of an eye if he so desires. But, as he said to you before, we are not here for you. You are only the blank page of paper upon which the message will be written and sent out to the world. I know that you don’t feel that someone like my husband can do you harm, but believe me he can and will. Many have come for you, but what you fail to realize is that we are not here for YOU. Your reputation, your victories, your valor? He is not interested, WE are not interested.

You know, a lot of people chose to be gladiators back in the time of the Romans. They were expected to die well and even in death had a certain stigma to their names, especially if they disgraced themselves in the arena. I don’t expect you to beg for mercy or not bring the fight to my husband. You’re far too proud for such things. But sadly, at least for you, you still don’t understand what you are facing Mr. Bishop. This is not Scott Oasis. This is not Finnegan Wakefield. This is not Aria Jaxon, Jeff X, Carlos Rosso, my beloved mentor and your good friend. This is a tidal wave, a storm, of all-encompassing darkness and unyielding destruction. You live by the sword and die by the sword, but this man is like the stone heavy and dangerous enough to shatter even a sword.

Maybe in the end, you will understand. MAELSTROM is going to beat you, of that I’m one hundred percent certain. All these years, all this power….all of it wasted to serve yourself instead of serving something meaningful, devoting yourself to building something lasting. You are nothing like your predecessors, the gladiators of old. No one will remember the glories of your sacrifices! No one is going to care about you when history books are written. Not many will even bother to care about when your physical body died and fewer still will care about your soul’s pathetic deterioration over the years.

One last chance, Michael. Listen to Him. Learn from Him.

In his meditation chamber, Maelstrom is shown studying a massive leather book with gold-rimmed pages. The sounds of a Gregorian chant can be heard not just in the room but deep through the castle. He does not have the look of a man preparing to fight one of the most feared martial artists and professional wrestles on the face of the earth. Instead he has the look of a holy man preparing to do truly important work, one prepared to do everything in his power to achieve his aim. The camera gets a good look at his entrance attire hanging nearby: an elaborate black and purple robe adorned with ornate jewels...as well as a massive scythe.

The fractures will soon be healed and the Circle will once more be unbroken. He has asked for it to come to pass and so it shall. Distortion World will encircle the Omega Wrestling Alliance, bending it to our collective will. The heavens will tremble in fear and Hell itself will be bathed in tears. Our reunion draws near….

Be sober-minded; be watchful. Your adversary the devil prowls around like a roaring lion, seeking someone to devour.

And now, the hour of battle draws near. You, the one who worships his own fist, are beyond redemption. You believe that this is all a play staged for the amusement of others, that this Distortion World of which I speak is just some speaking in tongues, a catchphrase drawn up to make one wealthy. You, the violent drunkard, friend of ONE of my great mentors...you have no idea of what you speak when you mention me. My body is a vortex for destruction and carnage, but I am no mindless monster. Every action taken, every maneuver performed in the wrestling ring, every word I speak, every breath I take is done with a purpose, a vision. Everything will be revealed in time, so please forgive my secrecy. I have worked hard to keep my Circle hidden and obscured from the vision of insects who scurry about with intent to destroy all that I have worked to build.

The purpose and vision are not your concern. You have proven to me that you are not worthy of the effort of explaining the glorious plans to make the Kingdom my own lair of Darkness and DIstortion, so I will forgo this. All I will tell you of my plan is that you are only the beginning. As I have already told you before and as my right hand, my wife, has told you...you are only the carrier of the message. My fists are the pens….YOUR BLOOD WILL BE THE INK.

That message is a simple one: that time waits for no one. There is no way to stop its flow. Your effort to last as long as you have is commendable, but I am the one sent to end your suffering. While you may no longer have a purpose, a reason to exist on this mortal plane, you can help serve mine. Even in the histories of humankind bear witness to this simple fact. It is full of proud, dangerous men who couldn’t comprehend that their time was at an end.

The mighty Samurai in Japan believed that their way was superior...until a modern army crushed them.

The ancient civilizations of the Americans, the Aztecs, Incans and so many others thought that they were superior, that they were the light of the world...until the Conquistadores nearly wiped them off the face of the earth.

The mighty British Empire once ruled one quarter of the people living on this planet...until two World Wars and the emergence of two Superpowers forced them to diminish.

Even in America, you can see it. Once the fledgling colony of the English. Then an emerging power in the western world, usurping their old masters. Then the Great Wars that made them into the World’s leading power. And now, just as you cling to your past and fail to realize the inevitability of your decline, America clings to its past. To face someone like you on the weekend where they celebrate their independence is a fitting parallel in MAELSTROM’s eyes.

Evolution, we can call it. Although I am the Harbinger, there is no darkness here. Only a dark light. I once wandered in this world alone, sad and without purpose. I once dwelled very similarly to you, Gladiator. Then, I was found, molded, given a purpose and allowed to meditate and grow. Over the past two years, I have gone not on just a physical excursion to grow strong in body. My mind and very soul have wandered through Elysium and back. Now I am here, ready to fulfill my purpose. I don’t believe in wanton violence, Gladiator, but I understand that such is all you understand. So I will give it to you. I will show you that MAELSTROM is not a stage act, but a true pro wrestler, a true fighter. If you want blood, you will have it. If you want a challenge, I am a puzzle for your entertainment.

When it is over, what will you say then? My woman and I have heard you speak for many days but have yet to hear anything worth our participation in this ritual combat. You are the ‘veteran’. You are the one who is supposed to keep someone like me from advancing onward. You are the Bishop that is sent out to collect the pawns off the chess board, yes? Predators, Prey, Survivors. Those are those that you spoke of. There are no predators for someone like me. People like you, there is no reason for me to even bother with you as prey. While defeating you may prove the Might of Distortion World, to achieve my aim something far more impactful may have to take place. And Survivors? There are none who survive me. There are none who come back the same once I’ve shown them a glimpse of Distortion World. Finnegan Wakefield is still recovering from his battle with me years later.

What chance does a miserable old wretch like you have?

The time for talking is almost over. Have you listened to my words? Do you have a better understanding of MAELSTROM? You are so obsessed with things that can be seen, things that are heard, so much so that you have no real understanding. Your shallow nature will be your undoing! You have no respect for Distortion World, you have no honor left. Therefore, I will finish doing Father Time’s work for him. I will end your legacy of violence and dominance decisively.

Live by the sword, die by the sword?

Your proposal is acceptable to MAELSTROM.

Remember these words. The day that you face MAELSTROM will be the day that your entire life will change. For the first time you will know true fear, true darkness. For the last time in your life, you will know what it is like to reach for the beautiful light of the stars…

Only to find that their light has been extinguished under my grip.

Re: OWA Promos July 3rd 2020, 11:51 pm by **J.D. Damon**

Fuck. Alright. Where do I begin?

Gather around, children. It's story time with Uncle J.D. The date is June 12, 2004. I am a young rookie who just made his debut with a wrestling company known as the Renegade Wrestling Organization. I had my eyes set on taking over the entire professional wrestling industry. I wanted to be the top guy everywhere I would go. I would appear for various promotions over the next nine years, but you know what? I never was able to grab that metaphorical brass ring that everyone always has their eyes set on. But I was always doomed to be inches within achieving that, but when push came to shove I was always the one laying on my back staring up at the lights while some mediocre jackass was having his hand raised in victory. Sure, I have won my fair share of championship belts during my sixteen year journey, and that isn't even the point of this story. The point is, I decided that leaving behind a legacy and re-shaping the industry in my image is far more important than any piece of gold around my waist. The night that I stood in another company's ring with Kenny Drake while he betrayed Carson Ramsay and we formed Wolvesden was FAR more important than winning any half-assed tournament or a cheap-ass trophy. The day that Kenny and I opened up the Drake and Damon School of Professional Wrestling was FAR more important than main eventing Final Destination. The fact that when I am dead and gone my legacy will live on. My students at my wrestling school will continue where I left off. Despite what anyone feels or believes, Wolvesden will live on forever.

Sunday night I will defend my legacy. I will defend my students. I will defend my wrestling school. I WILL FUCKIN' DEFEND WOLVESDEN! Maverick, you say that I was heated when you came out last week running your goddamn suck hole? Heated?! You thought that was heated. That's cute. That was me just getting warmed up. Apparently you have no idea who in the hell I truly am. Allow me to introduce myself. My name is J.D. Damon, I am the co-founder of the GREATEST faction to ever grace a wrestling ring, and the man who will single-handedly rid this industry of you. That will have to wait, however, until Boiling Point. Sunday night is going to be just the beginning. The beginning of the end to Maverick and Ashes of the Wake. You, The Vincent and Jacob Knight have a very large task in front of you all come Sunday night. Jeff X, Arata Asakura, and myself are going to love nothing more than to destroy you three. Sunday night isn't about wins or losses, no fuck that! Sunday night is about PRIDE. Sunday night is about proving that WE are three of the GREATEST to have do it. Don't believe us? Just wait and find out, I promise you three will have the best seats in the house. Now I know what everyone is thinking, don't I have a brief history with both Jeff X and Arata? Sure. All of that bullshit needs to be left in the past. My beef with those two are nothing - NOTHING - compared to my absolute disgust for Maverick and company.

Just like Arata said, it is going to take much more than what we are going to do Sunday night to vanish this company of Ashes, but you know what? It's going to be a fucking AMAZING start.

...Wolves aeternum.

Re: OWA Promos July 3rd 2020, 11:07 pm by **DarkCircle**

TALES OF THE DRAGON: CHAOS AND WILL

{Camera Start: The scene opens and we find Ryo walking down through downtown San Antonio, looking very dapper in a gray suit and hat, his attention seemingly somewhere else as he walks, apparently unconcerned about the camera man}

""The great Jim Morrison once said that violence isn't always evil. What's evil is the infatuation with violence and from what I've seen and heard of that weak sauce excuse of a promo from you, Oliver Harpe, is that really there is nothing else to you."

"In short, you sir are boring."

“In all honesty did you even actually watch my promo, Oliver? For if you did, where did I ever say that I was going to make you tap out? I said that I was going to pin you, that I made very clear and simple, because much like you’ve shown in your sorry excuse of a promo-all I need is for you to make one mistake and sure enough, you can do that just by drawing in breath.”

{Ryo shakes his head sadly as he stops in the shade of a tall building, removing his hat long enough to wipe the light sheen of sweat from his brow before replacing his cover}

“As for me not knowing what I’m getting myself into, did you even stop to think about how that question sounded before it left your lips, Oliver? Of course I know what I’m getting myself into you pathetic excuse for a meat sack.”

“I’m looking for a fight, plain and simple.”

“Allow me to explain this concept to you since obviously you come from such a small place that taught you to think so small that you use small words, so this should no doubt help you to understand what I'm saying exactly. I didn’t walk into the Omega Wrestling Alliance expecting a title match, no...I walked into the Omega Wrestling Alliance to earn my keep, to prove week in and week out that I am one of the-if not THE most skilled grappler on the roster to earn whatever I am handed.”

“Anything else is purely an assumption on your part.”

“Assumptions such as that you are a "force to be reckoned with" and that I’m not going to “recognize my face after you’re done with me, and that I’m gonna be a bitch with my tail in between my legs, yelping away”....seriously, what kind of drugs are you because I’ve seen more complexity from a couch from Ikea.”

“And as for these comments of yours that I'm an "arrogant asshole with an unseasoned criminal record because there's a price on my head that you're coming to collect"...Oliver, just by saying every single word of your promo shows an incredible lack of intelligence on your part as you have refused to watch the tapes of my past two matches here in OWA, but also my past in Pro Wrestling Nova and elsewhere, but you also have not done any research on me at all.”

“You sir are a prime example of the very thing that Isaac Asimov once said in that violence is the last refuge of the incompetent and at Kingdom, that incomptence is going to serve you nothing but ill times because, to borrow an old phrase, it’s the countdown to fucktown and your time, Oliver, is just about up because at Kingdom you will try and try again to prove that you are my superior, to try and beat me down like you claim that you will do with such ease.”

{Ryo’s face then turns very dark and even more focused than usual as he stares hard at the camera, his already dark eyes becoming like small pools of black abyss as he looks hard in the direction of Oliver Harpe-no matter where he is}

“You see the point that you're missing by miles and miles is the fact that while I am a fully trained professional wrestler, that does not mean that I will not shy away from taking your damned fool head off at the neck without a second's thought or hesitation because not only will I do that, Oliver Harpe, but I will gladly do it and then mail your weak ass back to your so called "employers" with a note that maybe they should recruit someone who has more brains the next time rather than empty headed fuck nugget who doesn't understand that maybe assumption isn't the most healthy of avenues."

"This Sunday, you're going to find out that the real fact of life is that a certain pathetic little gravedigger is going to be devoured by the Invincible Dragon and there isn't a damned thing that you can do about it….and you want to talk about how “Chaos is a close personal friend of yours”?”

{A very dry chuckle escapes Ryo’s throat, the noise sounds like a wind rattling long hollowed out bones}

“One of my best friends in the whole of this world is the kind of high powered mutant never even considered for mass production. Too weird to live, and too rare to die"...*THAT* is Chaos because *THAT* is the truth of Jacob Striker, Oliver, a man who would simply chop your chest until it resembled raw hamburger before he'd really start going to work on you just for claiming to be worthy of the very aspect of chaos."

"But then again you're not facing him this weekend at Kingdom. No, you're facing ME, a man who isn’t afraid of a fight, no matter who it is again, and will come out the winner because his determination and will to power is much greater than your own.”

{Ryo closes his eyes and fights to calm himself for a couple of seconds before he lowers his head as he replaces his hat upon his head and then adjusts it to sit at a jaunty angle like before as he opens his eyes and looks once more at the camera}

“This weekend at Kingdom, I’m going to give you exactly what you want and that’s a fight, but when I’m done with you...then you can be rest assured that I won’t be making you tap out, Oliver, oh no...I have something much better in mind for you.”

“I’m going to take your head and then present it to Scott Oasis so that he can mount it in a bathroom somewhere as a gift...and Ollie, there is not a damned thing that you can do about it because while you will try and force your vision of events to happen, I will simply WILL mine and it shall be done for you see the stronger becomes master of the weaker, in so far as the latter cannot assert its degree of independence-here there is no mercy, no forearance, even less a respect for "laws"..."

{Ryo brigs up his his open right hand into the camera's view}

"That is why at Kingdom I will come out the victor, my dear sod. Because while you can only thrive on violence and as such your dreams are only bloody, but me...I have the will to make my dreams become manifest destiny."

"Wille zur Macht, Oliver."

{At that point Ryo very quickly closes his hand, giving the camera a dark smile as he does so}

"Will to Power, Oliver. This Sunday you are going to be witness to what that means first hand...enjoy hell."

{Ryo then resumes his walk, leaving the camera's view as the screen fades out}

Re: OWA Promos July 3rd 2020, 11:01 pm by The Vincent

I fear The Vincent is misunderstood in his conquest, this holy mission that God has requested. There are no mind games, no tricks, no ulterior motive. If anything, I should be the simplest man you cross eyes with. I see life as a means of survival, a return to civilization where life is sacred, not wasted. This gift that has been given, only benefits the rich and the corrupt - and anybody that dare plays into this societal monopoly must perish. You would think an industry like Omega Wrestling Alliance would be secluded from such a disparity, yet this societal flaw trickles down all the same. The rich mad with power, and those unfortunate enough born poor are the ones left bleeding. The sacrificial lamb to the grand design - the mindless drone constructed to do the bidding of the corrupt. A tragedy in three acts. Jeff X is the one true degenerate that sees to benefit from it all - and for it, with the help of my fellow crusaders, The Ashes - we will see to it that the price of this injustice is paid in full to God's demands. You can twist your words the way you always do, it's what immoral men do when cornered against a foe they least expect. But why bother when your very shade is compromised? Through the tribulations of your daily decision making, you've made it quite apparent you are not ripe for this gift of life. It is not MY intention to cut off the head, no - at least not yet. While your head would sit perfectly still and idle on a pike in the streets of Jerusalem, it's a different token of defeat that God wills. For scars are the lasting memory that mark God's triumph - not that of letting your head rot in the dry air. It's time you were reminded that this is God's domain. There is a nightmare coming, a flock that's about to break. Away from the herds that follow all the selfish names of hate... this is a new indictment. This is the final call for warning. This is... the final crusade.

As for JD, you speak in absolutes behind a camera, but what happens once squared against a man with war on his mind? For when that curtain falls - life vanishes into applause. Any given match, any given week - OWA will come to understand that The Vincent will succumb to his own nature and it'll be an expected course. Any given time, The Vincent will see to it that this holy war lasts forever. War has many faces, but there is only one that is divine. And it shines through these very veins, for it is the will of god that wields this power. Fate has already been set in motion, and my arrival is only that of a premonition of despair. I've contemplated my life's course - but at the end of the day I am just the conduit for God's desire. And that's fine with me. It serves a greater purpose than fulfilling my own monetary desires. Legacy is a fools game, and those obsessed with its shade have been lust into torment. It's funny... these same souls are the ones that look up, reaching for a savior to save them from their poor life choices. But it's my grand mission to ensure they never find it, for it's far too late. There's more to this vision than meets the eye but I would hardly expect men and women of sin to truly find solace in the truth they seek. All I can say is that we are a walking memory of our own past, as it has set the tone of what we are perceived to be from outside forces and eyes. But while men and women like to think they can change - you can never betray your own nature. This memory that we carry will always tell the story... and therefore, your fate.

You wish to talk about pawns, Arata - but it's funny what is drawn up when a reflection in the mirror is blocked by the sight of virtue. Your shadow must be immune to all the carnage, as it has become apparent your only desire is to turn upon your own survival. But I suppose you've just been infected by the winds of greed, much like your peers. These are times of desperation after all, and this virus in which you spread has infected God's soil to the barebones. In you, it is clear - of the depths in which humanity can sink. But you'll see. You all will see. You're just a bird locked in a cage, singing your own praises to your own heartly desire - but none of this matters now. You've built up these walls to the cage yourself, by separating yourself from the true path of enlightenment. You are this very disease that myself and the Ashes will rid this world of. You've at least succumb to the understanding that I am like no other man, a threat that you must eliminate quickly. Unfortunately for you, that bell has already begun to toll. I hope you get ready to see something you've never witnessed before. I'll see to it that your justice is placed into my palm. I'll make it fast, and punch your grimaced face until every knuckle breaks and bleeds in resistance. Sure, a picture is worth a thousand words but to God himself leaving a mangled body twitching amidst the canvas is just a passage of war. I will not heed your appeals, for it is with my greatest intention to showcase to the world that even the harshest sinners dull to the softest of knives. For THE Vincent is diluted and perfectly flawed, but the precedent of war. I live by passion and guidance and not by some societal law. For this, at Kingdom - an aftershock of God's will be heard, to undo this tragedy of three acts. I'll be counting down the seconds between the distraction and the defining moments... but until then, I'll wait out the moments until I can paint this image in black so God can swipe the canvas clean.

While Jeff is nothing more than a degenerate, Arata an open corpse... this... Baba Yaga a self-fulfilling pawn that deems himself worthy only because of his manufactured stature. But listen to me Baba - compare everything in the world that matters to you and you'll see it's but a pile of nothing to be proud of. The world thinks I'm obsessed, but empires can only dream of having such a purpose. Men like you can try to save the day, try to feel the world at the palm of their hands - but just remember this when you're lying on the ground: Hollow truth becomes harder to swallow when you feel the air closing in. This feeling sinks in like stones, and it'll be with my great pleasure in having you lose your grip as failure pulls you under. It's a funny game God plays... where you have all this power, all this following - yet it isn't enough to protect what matters most to you. Because it was never MEANT for you to have, as only God reserves the right to examine the landscape and declare ownership. That's God's Empire. That's the game of survival. Once you take the self out of the equation, you'll see this is just a land meant for anarchy. But well, I suppose you'll just have to experience it to finally live it. The Vincent doesn't care for gold, but he'll gladly reap the reward of deeming it worthless. I will forge this path of conquest, because that is what is requested. An Openweight Championship is as valuable to me as a marble to a lion - but I'll embrace this sensation all the same. You don't know what you've done Baba, to force yourself upon this path of enlightenment. But there is power in searching for your own guidance - perhaps you aren't lost after all. But there are too many questions to be answered before our eyes are drawn open. You shall wait your turn that is this holy crusade. But remember this moment, Arata. I'm not going to pull the trigger and run. No... God wishes to savor this moment as I seize the day. Like lambs to the slaughter... I can paint in gloomy colors that will stain. But only one color will remain, and the whole world will remember its shade.

Why, you ask? It's simple...

For Vengeance is GOD...

AND GOD... is... WAR!

Re: OWA Promos July 3rd 2020, 10:32 pm by **Mav.**

WOLVES AETERNUM...
Kingdom RP #1 -- 1,927 words.

OWA Promos - Page 9 Tenor

“Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.”

“A very simple quote from Kev Elmer in a poem of his, and it’s been a quote recited in my head for a very long time. Since the birth of The Ashes of The Wake, we’ve been able to turn the Kingdom brand into our own little playground, our own little kingdom with the peasants as our puppets. The Ashes of The Wake have been taking over in every little department possible. You have Vincent chasing for the Openweight Championship, Jacob Knight is chasing the championship I couldn’t win -- the Spartan Championship, Havoc is bidding himself going for the OWA World Championship inside of a Steel Asylum, and for me, well… I’ve had some rough patches before seeing the man in the mirror, so I’m not focused right now on winning championships, but I am focused on one of my opponents in my next match. See, being apart of The Ashes of The Wake wasn’t just me being apart of something because I needed the help, it’s because I realised that this brand just wasn’t seeing things the way that I saw it -- the way The Ashes saw it. Havoc showed me a new light, a new level of brutality, a new sight to have been seen. For this, we’ve had to make sure that those who couldn’t see what we saw, had to deal with the sacrifices of being an enemy to the cause, they had to deal with being a target. You see, it’s either you are with us or you are against us, it’s no secret that is how we run things here. It’s how we run things around here, it’s always how we’ve been able to run things around when The Ashes of The Wake are awoken.

This isn’t much of a hostile takeover, this is more of an awakening, a blessing, a cleansing through the Omega Wrestling Alliance and through the Kingdom brand. Ladies and gentlemen, you can thank us later for when we are ready to clear the downright fucking ugly that this company has to offer. Two weeks ago, I came out and I was minding my own business until someone decided to rear their ugly mug onto the stage because “he had enough”. Poor JD. Damon couldn’t help but show some face when I decided to attack his leader of Wolvesden, and Jeff needed backup, instead of facing his fears alone. I’ve been doing this for three years now, to the day, and I can tell you that you simply cannot face your own fears by going with others. This is something for you to take on by yourself, but here you are, Jeff. Here you are, with J.D Damon and Arata Asakura. See, Jeff, it’s been no secret to anyone that you’ve been the face of the Kingdom brand since you got here, you’ve been like such since you got here and sixteen years in the business does get you there, hell, you’ve been doing this since you were eight years old… at least, that’s what you said sixteen years ago, right? Admittedly, you also said you drank since you were eight years old too, so I don’t know if I should take that claim into consideration or file it under fake news, like your boy, Donald J. Trump, if you get me.

But being the face means you get first dibs at anything you wanted, and that you got, sure, don’t you have that Steel Asylum match coming up? Pretty big match for the World Championship, am I right? I mean, you could have gone for that title at Final Destination but did you? No, because Kenny is your boy, he’s your guy, why would you wanna do that? Even then, with all the fat jokes out of the way, you still became friends with Bull! Those are your boys now, aren’t they? I doubt you’d ever want to face them in the future, then again, Bull’s on Olympus. The point I’m trying to make here is that you rely too much on the people around you more than yourself, and once you do rely on yourself, well… didn’t Final Destination show us exactly what happens? Didn’t we see you so many X Crushers on Bull that it practically became a meme in itself? Hell, when you had to face Vincent, didn’t he survive two of your flimsy X Crusher move? You got the lucky pin from a Gedo Clutch, if I remember correctly. How pathetic of a man who can’t survive by himself, such a typical alcoholic stereotype, if you ask me.

Jeff, it’s not about the size of the dog in the fight… whether he’d be six foot nothing or four foot eleven… it’s about the size of the fight in the dog… from either a big enough ego or the talent to push himself further than anyone could imagine... and believe me, Jeff. You’ve lost your fight ages ago, my friend. I don’t see you making it far when everyone will soon have no choice but to be targeting you. Though you may have gotten lucky at Clash of The Titans, I haven’t been able to see that same man that fought through hell to make it to the main event of Final Destination, maybe Presley neutered the dog in the fight for once. Everyone’s sick and tired of your bullshit already, you repeat yourself every fucking week you come in front of a camera. You walk in, either with a beer or whatever fucking alcoholic beverage you’ve got near you and you ramble on and on and fucking on again about how good you are, how amazing your finisher is and now you’ll always stand tall against anyone that steps up to the plate. It’s not fun hearing that from a man like you, then again, a man like you really would say something like that now, wouldn’t they?

In your drunken haze, you’d try to stand up to anyone that fights but the biggest con about being in a drunken haze against someone that’s sober and ready for a fight? You’re the easiest knockout there ever will be, so keep swinging for the fences, Jeff. This ain’t no special grudge match, and I’m not holding any grudges, so don’t be like Jake Roberts holding a snake like it’s your dick and being unable to stand that you’ve to take the fall, it’ll only lead you to doing yoga classes from a friend of yours then having to go through rehab, something you should have went to a long fucking time ago. But my bashing of Jeff X shouldn’t have to waste anyone’s time, as much as I am having fun doing so, so why don't we talk about the men that’ll have to mind their drunken uncle at the party, eh? Arata Asakura, a man that Jeff cares a lot about and a man I have had history with. Tell me, Arata, did Chelsea get that letter after all? She hasn’t written back to me and it’s been about a month or so, I hope she’s safe dealing with someone like you, power hungry and a little bit full of himself because he’s bringing up a prodigy in the sport and holding onto titles galore in many companies-- oh, that’s right, Jacob Senn, but that’s something to tackle for another time, Arata.

You got the best of me at Hardcore Havoc, in rules I had to adapt to on the spot, and yet you don’t see me demanding a match again because of a matchtype that was truly in your own favor, Shogun bastard. You know why? Because you’re pathetic as can be, you’re a waste of space, and look at you now… You can’t get over your own past, you couldn’t leave Reginald alone, and now, you left Jaydanne all alone in Japan when he was getting beaten up because he had left the building when-- ah, yes, Jacob Senn took your title away. Does that make you a liability, right now? Well, in my own opinion and my own personal experiences…. Yes, it fucking does, and guess what… That’s all I needed to hear going into this match. For you, someone like you that’s about the pride and bringing respect to the game, this is unlikely of you. Something’s gotten into you-- oh, yeah, Jacob Senn. He’s really on your mind, isn’t he? Yeah, it’s a good thing I’m teaming with him in Wrestleworld in a few weeks against you and your… puppy friend, who’s got the mind of, uhhh… how do I put this simply without hurting your reputation going into this… he’s got the mind of an adolescent child, but that’s all I’m going to say. Arata, it’s just been recently that you’ve just not been showing those strengths that I have been through, what the many before me have been through. It’s like you’ve been weakened overtime, and it just takes the right person to know you off your perch, and that right person, Arata… is not Jacob Senn, it’s me.

Ha. See what I did there? I get this vibe that any mention of the real Shogun of Wrestleworld or even SSW would get to you very quickly, and maybe it is that but who am I to care? I’m just doing my own thing, I’m just gonna sit back and relax, and watch you twitch a little by the bare mention of his name. Ain’t I right, Jacob Senn’s little bitch.

But finally, oh finally, J.D. fucking Damon. Man, you are one feisty little cunt, aren’t you? You got sooo heated over some comments about a dead stable like Wolvesden and yet, you think you’re so fucking good that you can carry a legacy like no other around with you when you were fucking gone for most of Wolvesden’s lifespan. Or I would have thought that but you made a “return” after “return” after “return” in the span of… maybe a year before you finally put your foot down and stopped all that nonsense. So what made you… officially(?)... come back after all this time? To watch your friend fall at Gooseland, to shame yourself enough that you’ll leave and then come back with a “return” in about a month or two? Damn, I’m surprised that we don’t have a sign outside the front door saying “No J.D. Damons allowed” when you’re exiting stage left and entering stage right like a new man when in reality, it’s just you with a changed look or a changed nickname… Don’t you think that’s a small bit repetitive? Don’t you think that’s a tiny bit dumb? Coming from you, I’m not surprised you’re being this man that thinks he can change in a heartbeat because we all know you can’t. You haven’t in all of this time, to me, you’re just looking up to the future and I don’t blame you one bit when I have accomplishments for days that will always overshadow your entire career as a whole. So think of this as somewhat of a taste as to what will happen at Boiling Point because no matter if it’s with The Ashes or without them, I’ll always prove to you, J.D…

Like a wolf, I never lose. I either win or I learn and J.D, you’ve got a whole lot of learning to do, cunt.

You’ve really got a whole lot to fucking learn about come Boiling Point, but remember...

Wolves… fucking… Aeternum, bitch.

I’ll see you soon."

Re: OWA Promos July 3rd 2020, 6:43 pm by **Arata Asakura**

Kingdom #1 II The same old fairy tale.

03.06.20 Osaka, Japan

*It was the last day, that Arata could spend at home before having to appear again in the Omega Wrestling Alliance, where things got more and more complicated. For a longer time, the young Japanese man had the impression that it was too peaceful there - quite differently than in other companies, at least in his case. But in the blink of an eye it changed with the advent of Ashes of Wake, who became a pain in the ass for the entire roster. For some reason, he was one of the people who was hit by the simplicity and ignorance of this bunch, but he knew there was no point in thinking about their reasons. Not the first time in his life he saw groups like this, the goal of each of them has always been the same - to destroy what others work for, at all costs. Therefore, he was even glad, that he had influence on trying to get rid of this 'confusion', instead of looking from the side. He knew from his own experience, that this would not be an easy process, and Street Fight, which will take place at the upcoming Kingdom, is just the beginning of what will lead to war at some point. However, while still at home, he didn't have to be fully absorbed by what will happen on Sunday. Therefore, enjoying the last moments of stay before leaving, he began reading a fragment of one of his daughter's favorite books. Maybe it was just a fairy tale, but if you think about it, it reflected reality.*

“With each passing week, some lovely town, and especially the part of it called Kingdom, began to become like hostile territories. It was caused by a group created by a madman named Hanoc or formerly Chris Saber, before evil overwhelmed his heart. This group from the very beginning of its existence caused a lot of trouble, and finally it went so far, that almost all the residents of the Kingdom decided to finally do something with this injustice. But should they take such a risk? After all, it is not wise to provoke an angry beast. Besides, will anyone be brave enough to do that? The evil side thought that they had the power and everyone was afraid to even try to do something against them. However soon, unaware of anything, they were close to find out, that there was a much greater force in the Kingdom. The force, that will lead them to fall.”

*Arata thinks for a moment after reading these words, then sets the book with the green cover aside and directs his gaze to the camera. Before he says anything, he moves his hand along his beard, but finally his deep and quite calm tone of voice can be heard.*

At the beginning I just ignored what Christopher Sabertooth was doing. We've all known for a long time that this guy is not sane, so we can say that I treated it as unworthy of attention antics. However, as it turned out over time, it began to be more than just playing the role of a demon, hoping that he would eventually hide his weakness - all the nonsense that I ignored, became the embodiment of Kingdom's problems. It became something called Ashes of Wake. Looking at it from the side, it may seem that it is force hard to beat, commanded by someone as cruel as Havoc. However, in reality it is only a bunch of useless clowns who are unable to achieve anything on their own, led by a guy who values a can of paint more than a little bit of an honor. However, not the formation of this faction is the worst thing, but the motives behind it. It seems that some of them believe that they are able to change this industry for the better, treating Havoc as a god who is able to do this. However, it is difficult to take this whole cult seriously, listening to the main creator of this confusion. This all stupid talk about being possessed and having Havoc inside of them...it doesn't resemble anything revolutionary, but rather an introduction to cheap porn. But is it so different? At the end of this group's existence, all of them will be fucked up anyway.

However, at the end of the day, they can only blame themselves for making bad decisions, and in the case of some of them, it has become an unpleasant habit. Maverick, I thought that when we met face to face at Hardcore Havoc, you finally understood something. Actually, I was hoping that you would finally believe that you could do well on your own, because when you were independent, we could see your progress - something I haven't seen in Wrestleworld. However, you made the same mistake again by hiding behind a group of other people, just because you didn't manage to deal with losses in meaningful matches. On the one hand, I understand that it will be easier for you this way...that people will finally stop thinking of you as an overrated boy, and eventually see the powerful king, who you want to be. The thing is, it's the opposite. Once again you are only a servant of more important pawn in the game, but this time instead of Claudia Michaels, the one holding the leash is Havoc. In this way you prove nothing, except that you have already reached your peak and the only way you are able to find yourself in the spotlight is through such a bullshit. To be honest, I'm not even surprised, because I've known you for a longer time. You've always been a corrupt stupid brat, who cares about nothing more than being the center of attention and getting what he wants. The only thing that matter to you is the tip of your own nose. The fact is, you don't even give a shit about your own girlfriend. Listen, people don't need to have more than 2 IQ to notice, that saliva flows from your mouth, as soon as, another object of interest appears. If you know what I'm talking about, Mav. The whole point of this is to show you that you don't deserve anything, just as I showed you that you will never put your dirty hands on Spartan Championship.

*The man smiles slightly, leaning his back against the back of the black couch and put his arms in crossed-arms position. He sighs heavily, before continuing.*

As it turned out recently, Maverick is not the last of this bunch of clowns, who are going to try to gain my championship for themselves and let's look at what we have to choose this time. Some kind of jobber or Jesus Christ 2.0? Wow, I think I am disappointed that Sabertooth was choosing as his members, the first people that he met in the corridor. But let's take a closer look at my potential challengers. First one is Jacob Knight, who is not a stranger to me. I wouldn't call him my friend or acquaintance, but we met some time ago and I have the impression that he is still the same person. It is true that he says everything that Havoc probably told him to say, but deep in his heart he knows that he is still nothing more than a waste of space. However, this is not a rare phenomenon in this industry, so should I care? Well, no, actually his presence does not change anything to me, you can even say that if he has the honor of being a challenger to Spartan Championship, I will have free defense for myself. However, what I can't stand when it comes to Jacob is his cowardice. Do not get me wrong, because I have the impression that the motto of Ashes of Wake is being fucking cowards, but Jacob Knight is different from them, because he is not only afraid of what is going on around him, but also of himself. It seems to me that you know what I'm talking about, Jacob, but since Havoc has brainwashed you, let me remind you. The moment you were supposed to hit Jeff X with a bat, what happened? Why did you refuse? Because you were scared of doing something wrong, while looking him in the eyes. The thing is simple, Knight. If you play the role of a badass, at least behave like that, but you couldn't. You couldn't, because you knew that if you did it, you would be like them, and you really don't want it. The only reason why you are sticking with them is because you are simply desperate. And why? Because your actions so far have been pointless and it blinded you. You may think that being fair and honorable was limiting you, but the real reason was different. You are just not championship material. You're just one of the many nice additions to the show, to which people will pay attention to in anticipation of what they really came to see. In fact, there is nothing wrong with it, Jacob, not everyone has what it takes to be a bigger deal. Some have to come to terms with mediocrity. However, this term can't be used towards The Vincent, who seems to be quite an interesting case. In a good sense of the word? Not really, but it's always interesting to see what a man, who is obsessed with his own 'beliefs', is capable of. He seems ready to die just to do his god's will and this stubbornness reminds me of someone. Well, not only that, but in his case, as well as that person's, he is not someone worth my time. In fact, Vincent is a pawn that Havoc will use, as long as he needs to, and leave him plunged into his madness and bloodlust...unless someone seriously hurt him for telling all this absurd. Perhaps this opinion is due to the fact that I do not believe in any god, but this doesn't change the fact that Vincent is an erratic madman, who must be eliminated as soon as possible. It is enough that we have Reggie, and that's too much anyway.

*Arata brushes back the blond strands of hair, before moving on to the ending sequence of his speech.*

Ashes of Wake are an unnecessary problem, that arose out of nowhere and I have the impression that getting rid of them is the priority of most roster members. I'm not stupid to believe that one match will be enough to kick their miserable asses out the door, but it's worth giving them at least a warning. If I am to be honest, this task could not have been assigned to a better group than me, Jeff X and JD Damon, especially looking at what has happened in the last weeks. Finally, the moment of our little revenge came and I am convinced that my companions intend to use it the best as they can. So I'm also going to enjoy this moment for now, but when it comes to Boiling Point? Well, first we'll see if there will be anything left from them on Sunday, before we talk about title match.

Re: OWA Promos July 3rd 2020, 4:35 pm by **Michael Bishop**

(It’s early 2012, we see a much younger Michael Bishop exit through the back of an arena. He’s wearing the same jacket he does today, his beard is much healthier and younger, and his Chicago MMA duffel is slung to his back).

Live by the sword…. Die by the sword.

God. I know that saying all to well....All to personally.

....Wish I didn’t.

(He’s stopped in the back alley as several men exit from the shadows. Behind a stone column, a dumpster, a stocky lead one squares up in the middle of his path. Bishop raises his head, locking eyes with the dark silhouettes).

Combat sports is a cyclical bitch. Fate loves her fuckin’ poetry. Kids who grew up watching the fighters they saw way back when, end up growing up to become their successors….. The challengers who fought, bit, clawed, and scrambled to dethrone the champions, themselves become the men with targets on their backs.

You fight to kill, become, and be the baddest motherfucker on the planet. You walk every step you take in life like it’s your last. You back up each punch with the pain, blood, sweat, tears- the straight fucking hellfire that you use to push to be where you want. You burn all bridges. You kill everyone in your way. And on that fucking scorched earth of a division that you left. The weak, die, and the only fuckers that stand in your way are some of the most devious, stubborn, and unkillable cockroaches that dare step up to dethrone you, and your railgun of a right hand….

(Bishop scans the men infront of him. 7. He notes some of them fingering knives in their pockets, the lead one has his fist balled, brass knuckles. They dress to mercenary to be gang bangers- Mafia).

But every villain is the hero of his own story. Every challenger is the future champion in the making. To the person who puts on the 4oz gloves, they are the next up in their own eyes. And when you tear apart the fucking heavyweights like I did. Only the strong survive. For most, there are but two types of competitors left:

Predators…

(Flashes of all the Heavyweight greats of MMA flash by in memory: Michael Bishop, Benjamin Bannon, Scott Oasis, Carlos Rosso, Jakar Wallus, The Terminator…).

And Prey….

(All 7 men are hesitant to rush him, the leader however, stands tall, smiling at Bishop who drills back with daggers forged in a hard englewood alley long ago…).

-And the third type that everyone always forgets.

(A flashback to Bishop being beaten down in a small exhibition match, maybe 18 years old. He pulls his opponent into his guard, before locking in a hard triangle choke, and then bashes open his forehead tissue with elbow strikes. We see a flash of another heavyweight, a man made of Ice, as he’s being punched into oblivion, only to make a come back later, locking in an arm triangle choke. The strongest arm in the world finds himself being hyper-extended in an arm bar, only to pick the man up, and slam him down hard).

Survivors….. Gaze into the abyss, the abyss stares back. They’re the ones who don’t just beat the champions, they break the champions. They keep the belts. They are the ones overlooked because they get put through the grinder, imperfect paths to victory, and yet, despite everything. They’re the strongest, the craftiest….

(Bishop stares down his wall of opponents… All 7....He never saw the 8th, approaching from behind, paid several figures, as he sized up The Dreadknight with a lead pipe).

The most cunning.

It’s one thing to take a belt, to capture it, to push the champion who survived so much, so far, and to take their title. To push some of the toughest sons of fucks who’ve ruled the roost as the toughest S.O.B so far, they quit. It’s another to keep that mantle. Title or not, you take enough heads, your neck bears the weight of all you’ve done. Your name holds more than any title you’ll ever take. You transcend gold and leather, and you become a fucking destroyer of worlds….

...And only the most dangerous will come after you. The most dangerous, because they’ve walked the path you’ve walked. Talked the talk you talked, and they know they can beat you, because they will do whatever it takes….

(One of the darkest moments in Michael’s history plays before us as we see the black abyss he saw when that lead pipe cracked the back of his skull. Blood caking his face as the thugs, paid off by a challenger who could not beat him conventionally, killed him in that alley way).

Live by the sword, die by the sword.

(They walk off, leaving the now -dead former Heavyweight Champion of the world to bleed out face down in that back alley….).

You walk this road enough, you make enough enemies. Eventually your past will run up on you, and try to blast your fucking jaw off with enough karmatic justice you could fucking choke on it. Predators slaughter prey- the prey who survive, become the survivors who will eventually take their neck…. And the ones that survive such usurpation?

(Bishop’s blood crusted eyelid pulls itself open. We’re greeted not with a glazed over iris, or a blood destroyed cornea. But a dilated pupil, the only emotion visible: Consuming rage. His fingers dig into the asphalt…. As whatever clawed it’s way out of that alleyway, wasn’t the same man from before….).

They’re the most dangerous of them all.

This isn’t the first time someone has come for my neck, and If I have any fucking say which I god damn do- it won’t be the last. Every new self proclaimed bad mothafucker on the block wants a piece of Michael Bishop. Who fucking wouldn’t? 17 years in the sport, enough blood coating the cracks of my knuckles to clone somebody, I’ve never turned down a god damn fight in my life, and I treat every one like it’s the fight of my life, which it is- Only as good as your next fight.

13 years ago I walked into the pro mma scene a complete unknown, I’d walk out 9 years later the god damn conquering king.

3 years ago I walked into the squared circle, the entire world mocking me, everyone wishing I’d fail, and having to fight, fuck, and claw my way for every opportunity.

3 years later.....

I’m called a psychopath, a blood thirsty maniac, I’ve broken more orbital bones that I’ve had hard liqour and I’m a fucking alcoholic. I’ve been branded boogeyman, gatekeeper, worldbeater, and a fucking war machine. I have enemies in two fucking cults, I’m the first person to break Scott Oasis before it was cool. I’ve made several world champions smell their own iron, and look into my eyes with fear.

And all the fucking targets on my back that it’s brought, I wear them on a necklace- with fucking pride. I’m not a fucking showman, I’m not an entertainer. I’m not an actor. I’m not your fucking friend, I’m not your groom, I’m not some pretty boy, golden boy, Oasis’ boy, Monroe’s boy, Taylor’s boy. I am a fucking prize fighter. I am a god damn gladiator.

Psychologists have branded me psychotic because I don’t just knock people to the bottom of the rankings. I knock them out. I choke them out. I strangle them, batter them, murder them in the ring, and I send them to the fucking morgue. I do it all, and I get off on it because I fucking love it. Everyone loves to pretend like the darkness inside of them is bad, that the consuming hunger for death will lead them astray, try to make some sob story but guess what. The difference between them is they lost their belts, lost their pride, and are either down in the gutter where I was now, back then- or retired living off a pension, writing books about what could have been, while I’m living the self forged destiny that never should have been.

Physicality is only 10% of the fight Maelstrom. The longest sanctioned fights historically have only lasted for an hour. The longest of mine lasted for 2 years. When the going gets tough they sit ont he turnbuckle and claw their hair out, I shove my knee into their nose and make them scream for their fucking nature.

Morgan Shaw once said while high off his own adrenaline, that I’m just a man. I’m flesh and blood. We’re all born from the same fucking womb, the same fucking cells, the only difference between me and Scott Oasis, is one man chose to conduct violence. The other didn’t. One knew how to make money off of it, the other knew how to become the embodiment of it. One is recognized for the amount of buys they bring, the other is known for the amount of bodies under my boot, and skulls in my pyramid.

The difference between you and me is you’re a young blood who sees red before he knows what he’s punching at. You have scream and shout to throw people off, all I have to do is step under than top rope and enter the ring. You demand, I command. When we get down on the line, we’re locked up in a clinch and I’m kneeing the shit out of your breadbasket of a stomach, the act won’t hold up. When all that make up runs, when that act fails, when you get tired, frustrated, gassed, and you start swinging for the fences that’s where it shows.

Real vs Fake, Actor vs Gladiator, a man who has designed, forged, and wielded the sword that has taken more heads than the fucking french guillotine- and the little methhead engine that could.

I’ve earned my place through blood and fire, I’ve forged my path through trial and error. The book you claim to have mastered was written by me. The tales you heard of, were written about me. The boogeyman of the Kingdom Roster, the guy no one wants to fight isn’t you. It isn’t fake pieces of shit who can’t put up. It’s not self indulged briefcase carrying doormats that managed to brainwash enough shitbags. It’s me. It’s Michael fucking Bishop. It’s the swiss army knife taking on the dull cake spork with 76% bodyfat, and a left arm that my fucking girlfriend could out strike.

I’ve had my neck swung at a lot. Many a men have stepped up to cut me down, and you are no exception. The difference between them and me, is every attempt, no matter how close, now matter how crafty- failed. They all fell before the old fuck with a mean fucking fight, and enough technique to gas them just by reading it all off. Predators kill, prey survive, survivors come back for more. The one who makes it through all three breaks the cycle. Breaks them all, and their spines. You aren’t any of them, you aren’t me.

You aren’t the next bad son of a bitch,

and as long as I’m still breathing and have my brass set of fucking balls,

you never will be.

Re: OWA Promos July 3rd 2020, 2:58 pm by **Oliver Harpe**

KINGDOM: VIOLENCE

Ryo Sakazaki, you don’t know what you’re getting yourself into don’t you? You’re talking about tapping me out like it’s nothing...I’m a bit confused when you thought this assessment was a sane one. Imagine, a common dude who likes to speak with a pompous vocabulary and talks about stealing titles thinks he can beat me. Do you really believe I’m some sort of softie? Ha...hahahaha. Anyone who’s tried to “tap” me out has ended up in a hospital bed, so if you really want to try it, I welcome you to. It’ll only make my job a lot more fun. I applaud you for your tough guy act though; you’re trying to go down like a real man. You want my best, but honestly, even at my worst, I’d still kick your ass pretty badly. I’m not one of these traditional rasslers you fight around the world Ryo, no no; I’m someone who went to prison for nearly killing a man with my bare fists. I don’t have a wrestling style. I don’t just slap people around to have a good match, I take out my opponents and collect my check right after. There’s nothing wrong with how they do things, but I’ve been hired to change that culture. I’m a hired hand who will take down anyone and anything my clients want...for a price of course. In exchange, I get to indulge in the violence of beating my opponent so badly that they won’t say anything smart again. Ideally, I’d like to beat you to a bloody pulp, but there’s a clause in my contract that says I can’t unless there’s a stipulation involved. So, fortunately for you Ryo, I won’t be completely ruining your day. You can smile and tuck yourself in bed that night knowing that you aren’t in the ICU or dead in a morgue somewhere. I’m not just all talk, I have a very solid track record for taking out whoever I need to. I’m a man of my word and my livelihood is on the line when I receive a contract. I can’t embarrass myself and lose out on money to survive because some silver-spooned asshole keeps believing that he’ll tap me out in front of a worldwide audience. I can’t have that; it would absolutely tarnish my services and reputation; I’m going to put you in your place son.

Some have referred to me as an unusual case since I’ve arrived here and you’re goddamn right. I’m not the indie sweetheart that’s won a million titles around the world since I started wrestling. I’m not considered a technical masterclass who can fold people a million different ways. I’m just a guy who gets hired to beat others up. I’m not here specifically because I want to win a title or something, I’m here because I want to get paid and enjoy the fruits of being a deranged and slightly reformed member of society. Money is how this world turns round; your passion for wrestling will only get you so far. You can’t buy a bag of chips with passion; you can’t rent a hotel room with passion; you can’t wipe your ass with passion. You do all that with money and your own desire for money. Just because you’re “passionate” and think you can win an OWA world title doesn’t mean it’ll happen. The real reason all these guys and gals are at the top is the process of survival. They have to keep their instincts up, assess the competition, and absolutely fight until they’ve met their match. Those people are far and few between and you better bet your ass one of those people isn’t you Ryo. You talk about understanding the history of violence but you don’t truly know a thing about it. Your knowledge is a fabrication so you can say that you’re better than me and everyone else. You’ve relied on talking trash and never spilling out blood to prove it, but I’m a man who knows exactly what that means. I’m not some chump that can’t back up what he says; when I say something to you, you better expect to eventually happen one way or another. So here’s what I’ll say to you now: You will lose to me on Sunday night, in front of everyone. Your words will mean nothing and you’ll then babble on about how you could actually beat me. You will get hit with Six Feet Under and no submission hold on God’s green Earth will be able to protect you from that. It can happen at a snap of my fingers and no matter how hard you try, you won’t be able to counter it. I’m called The Gravedigger for a reason and it isn’t some sort of cool name to flaunt; it’s my lifestyle.

I am a force to be reckoned with. As I said before, this is my survival. This company is one where we will either be the prey or the predator. I’ve made my choice, but Ryo you don’t realize yours. You think you’re a predator but you’re like a Hyena, circling around what the big boys do. You don’t have any claim to your name; you’re an embarrassment to yourself and whatever family you come from. Blood will be shed, but I don’t think you know what that means. My crowbar, Betty, can testify to that as she’s helped me spill blood that could easily fill oceans. I’m not saying this to get a thrill out of you, Ryo. I just NEED you to UNDERSTAND who and what the hell I am. I’m sure that Arata guy is talented and all but he’s not me. I love the violence and it always pulls me back no matter what happens. Chaos is my friend and I’m absolutely proud of that; some think that I’m crazy but I’m just embracing who I am. I’m saner because of that and I recognize what my needs are. This Sunday, I need to go out there and win. I’m not an arrogant asshole like you; I just say things the way they are. I deal with the facts of life and buddy, your unseasoned criminal record is gonna be haunting you the most after you’re down and out. You’re not gonna recognize your face after I’m done with you. You’re gonna be a bitch with your tail in between your legs, yelping away. You will beg for mercy, but your judgment has already been made. The only history both of us will need to know is that I destroyed you in Kingdom. You’d better get a damn good trainer in the next couple of days because I’m not gonna play around. The price on your head has been placed and I’m going to collect it. Welcome to the bounty list, Ryo...enjoy these moments because your outcome is looking grim.

Re: OWA Promos July 3rd 2020, 2:34 pm by **Jeff X**

Ashes of the Dead

Atlantic Beach, North Carolina

July 3, 2020

The scene opens up to a beautiful beach off the coast of North Carolina. The place is somewhat crowded as residents and tourists alike are enjoying themselves swimming, tanning, and taking in the sunshine as well as the ocean breeze. As the camera pans past the rows of families, friends, and couples that are having fun in the sand, water, and sun...it finally stops on a familiar face - Jeff X. He sits in a beach chair, lounged out and relaxing. Dressed in a pair of American flag board shorts and a black ‘Kingdom’ t-shirt, with a pair of sunglasses on and his camouflage Realtree cap atop his head. As the camera moves in on him, Jeff takes note of it and turns his head towards us, smiling as he takes a drink from the can of Bud Light in his left hand.

“You know...I just couldn’t help myself but to come out here to the beach and celebrate a little bit. Because what is there not to celebrate? Tomorrow is the Fourth of July, I’ve found myself with an opportunity at the OWA World Championship for the first time in my career, and perhaps most importantly...in a mere two days’ time...I’m finally going to get a chance to get my hands on those little fucks from Ashes of the Wake.”

Jeff reaches into the cupholder of his chair and grabs the pack of Marlboro Reds that were sitting there, quickly lighting one up. His expression remains calm and relaxed, almost a smile forming on his face.

“For weeks now, Chris’ merry band of fucking misfits have been a thorn in my side...whether it be Jacob Knight blindsiding me with a chair, Maverick and Vincent pinning me down so that Chris could bash my skull in with a bat, or the whole lot of you trying to cost me my opportunity at the championship...they seem obsessed...like a bitter ex-girlfriend that just won’t move on and leave it alone. And this obsession you seem to have with me, boys...in the end, it is going to lead the lot of you down a path of self-destruction. I know right now all of you think that you’re on top of the world...that your sheer numbers allow you to rule over Kingdom with iron wills...you’ve gotten the better of me over the last few weeks, right? So why shouldn’t you be feeling good about yourselves? Hell, after all, the majority of you have an opportunity to walk out of Boiling Point with championship gold wrapped around your waist...the first such opportunity a few of you have ever had here. So enjoy this moment. Hell, maybe you should find a beach somewhere and celebrate yourselves. Enjoy this feeling you have. Enjoy this brief illusion of power that you think you possess…because it’s not going to last. The sneak attacks, the group beatings, the cheap parlor tricks...it’s going to catch up with the all of you sooner rather than later. Because I’m not the only one that’s sick of your shit boys. The whole locker room sees you for what you truly are...a bunch of lackluster ‘talents’ that aren’t good enough to hack it on your own.”

Jeff pauses to take a quick sip from his beer along with a long drag from his smoke.

“And it all starts with your fearless leader Chris Sabertooth. He’s the one you guys take your orders from right? The one that supposedly injected you with so much power? Well if he’s got so much power to dish out then why is it that he always manages to come up short? Sure, maybe he’s found some success in some other pissant promotions, but here? In OWA? He’s had his chances..more than I can fucking count and he fails each and every time. Hell he’s had his chances against ME and he’s failed each and every fucking time. Even when he did manage to finally do something of note and claim the Ascension to the Heavens briefcase...he still knew that it would mean nothing in the end, because even he knew that there’s no way he could successfully cash that thing in on his own. So what’d he do? Went out and found a group of people even more pathetic than he is to try and aid him on his never ending quest to make it to the top of this company. And with the promise of power and Jada Blaire gangbangs, you all foolishly accepted Chris’ proposal...not even realizing that you were signing your own death sentences in the process. The three of you could have had nice long, mediocre careers...but the moment you succumbed to his bidding...the moment you decided to try ME...THAT is when it ended for all of you. THAT is when you fucked up. You may not realize it now...but come Sunday….when each of you are trapped in the ring with myself, Arata, and JD...with no sneak attacks, no numbers advantage...and no rules to stop us breaking each and every bone in your feeble fucking bodies...THEN you’ll realize that you all should have told the ‘man in the mirror’ to go fuck himself.”

Again, Jeff takes a break to sip from his beverage and puff from his smoke.

“But at the same time...it’s hard to blame you all for the decision you made. Each of you knew that your careers were going absolutely nowhere. I guess you had to try SOMETHING to make yourselves even remotely relevant. Hell...Vincent knew after just one match that he wasn’t cut out to make it here on his own. It took ONE match...just ONE beating from yours truly for him to know that he had to do something. Throw some kind of hail mary, if he wanted to last around here. And I guess it did result in SUCH a huge win for you when you took out the BWO two weeks ago...yeah...congratulations. Real career defining stuff there. But now? Now Chris’ little group has led you right back to where you started...staring across the ring at me. Staring across the ring at the object of your destruction. But even though I’ve already beat your ass once Vince, I’m not going to sit here and spit out the same generic bullshit about how ‘the result this time isn’t going to be any different’...cause that just wouldn’t be true. You see last time...last time was just business...you meant nothing to me. Just another kid that would probably never be seen nor heard from again. So I just did my job then. I disposed of you quickly and mercifully...but this time? This time Vince, it’s a far different story. This time you’ve MADE yourself my enemy. You aligned yourself with Chris, tried to cost me my title shot, and then tried to eliminate me altogether...but just like with everything else you boys do...you failed on all fronts. But that whole ‘no harm, no foul’ cliche? I don’t abide by that Vince. So this time...this time it is NOT just business. This time I’m going to relish in painting the ring red with your blood. I’m going to enjoy myself as I hear your ligaments snap at my will. I’m going to take so much joy into hearing you pray to your God for help that never comes right before I deliver the final blow that casts you from this industry altogether.”

Jeff snuffs his cigarette out in the sand and takes another rather large sip from his beer.

“Then of course we have Jacob Knight...the man who still believes he lives by his convictions despite his recent alliance with the Ashes of Wake. You may be the one that irritates me the most in this whole fucked up situation we have going on right now Jake. Because you can sit there and talk about how I hold the younger generation down all you want, but you and I both know that I TRIED to help you. I TRIED to convince you that Chris was going to lead you places that you didn’t want to go. That he was just going to use you for his own benefit without a care in the world for what happens to you. But you didn’t listen. That chair shot to my spine last month wasn’t nearly as painful for me as it was for you. Because that was the death blow Jake. That was the moment that you sealed yourself in a no-win situation. Your decision has condemned you by the rest of the roster and your actions on this past Kingdom proved that your alliance with the Ashes is only temporary. Because you’re not built for Chris and his vision. You don’t have the stomach for it. You showed that when you declined to be the one to swing that bat at my face. Say what you want about the other three...but none of them hesitated. They may be talentless fucks but at least they have that ruthless, killer instinct that you lack. And it’s only a matter of time before they realize it too...and when they do...they’ll cast you aside like a used condom Jake. You will hold no benefit to Chris because you don’t have what it takes to go to that dark place that he lives in. And when he disposes of you...what will you have left to turn back to? Do you think you’re just going to be able to join Kingdom’s frontline in the fight against the Wake then? No….no, no, no, no, no...you’ve burnt that bridge. Now you’re just a sitting duck waiting to get shot out of the water. Matter of fact...I bet Chris has already figured it out. I bet he already knows that you’re not cut from the same cloth as Vince or Maverick. He’s probably just biding his time now...giving you one last chance to SEE if you can beat Arata for that Spartans Championship...but you can’t Jacob. I know better than anybody what it takes to be the Spartans Champion...and you don’t have it. I did...Layne Kurobane did...hell, even RD3 did..and Arata DAMN sure does. So when you inevitably come up short at Boiling Point and Chris decides he’s done with you….then you’ll have nowhere left to go. There won’t be a place for you in OWA anymore. You’re only saving grace is that it may not get to that point at all….because after Sunday...I’m not sure if you’re even going to be able to make it to Boiling Point.”

Jeff down what remains in his can and lets it fall to the sand before reaching in the cooler positioned next to him and grabbing a fresh one, popping it open.

“And of course that only leaves Maverick. The man who’s been in this new group for all of a cup of coffee and already wants to claim it’s superior to Wolvesden. Let me make something clear Mav...I got no love for Wolvesden. I’ve been in the frontlines battling them before as well. They came to MY hometown and kidnapped MY own blood. And that’s some shit I’ve never forgiven and you best believe, I still have some unfinished business there...but make no mistake about it Mav...the Ashes or NOT Wolvesden. I’ve been at odds with both groups….Wolvesden was an organization that truly struck fear wherever they went. They changed the face of wrestling as we know it today. They stood atop a pinnacle that you can’t even see from where you stand. The Ashes are just a cheap knock-off...some shit you’d buy at Dollar General for half the price and a quarter of the quality. You can try and run them and their reputation down all you want, but at least they HAVE a reputation to ruin. You? You’re nothing. Just another dick without the balls and a big mouth that can’t hack it inside the ring. You might be controversial and edgy...but when the bell rings, you’re the most pathetic one in the lot. You couldn’t cut it on Olympus and had to leave the business altogether for a while. You came here and talked a big game against Aria and got your teeth kicked down your throat. You ran your mouth for WEEKS about Arata and got embarrassed on a national level. Face it...you’re the weakest link of the bunch...it’s why you’re the only one in your little group without a title shot incoming...cause you already had them...and you already fucking lost. It’s what you do. And Sunday...you’ll do it again...but unlike Knight and Vincent...I think I’m going to leave a piece of you to make it to Boiling Point. So that JD can show you just what ‘Wolves Aeternum’ actually means.”

Just then Presley Dawn comes jogging up in a bikini, glistening from the ocean water.

Presley: “Stop fucking with the camera and come have fun already!”

She drags Jeff by the wrist up out of his chair and he laughs and concedes as he places his beer down on the cooler.

“Alright, alright...I’m coming.”

Jeff looks back at the camera one last time.

“I’m a little busy right now boys, so I have to go. But I’ll see you on Sunday...celebrate while you can.”

The last thing we see is Jeff getting dragged off towards the water by an impatient Presley.

[Fade to Black]

Re: OWA Promos July 3rd 2020, 2:12 am by **DarkCircle**

Tales of the Dragon: Fade to Black

{Camera Start: The scene opens and we find ourselves enjoying the majestic view of none other than the Alamo, its crumbling, ancient fortifications a sign of the long passage of time but yet they stand firm-even in these troubling times. It is here that we find none other than Ryo, walking through the old fort, running his strong fingers over some of the ancient battle damage from the famous battle that happened there that helped to shape a yet to be born nation and then state)

“You know after my match the other week on Kingdom, I spent some time with my brothers in mayhem and one of them, Robert, was beside himself that I could lose to such an...as he put it…”arrogant prick like Asakura” and he was also equally as confused as to why I simply shrugged and moved on.”

{Ryo stops and motions at the ancient fort the surrounds him}

“You see, there is no such thing as an undefeated streak...look at Santa Anna’s army, they thought that they could be undefeated and yet the Texan National Army beat them. So Arata beat me, so what big deal? Sure he can claim victory, but even he has to remember that I kicked out of everything that he threw at me time and time again I took his best shots and kept on coming for him until finally he got that one shot in that enabled him to keep me down.”

“Now Arata, I want you to remember whenever you think of raising your nose into the air in a false claim of superiority. I want you to think long and hard that if I took you to those limits over a regular rank and file match...what’s to say that I won’t do once I come for your title at long last?”

{Ryo then reaches up and removes his raybans, fixing the camera with a focused look}

“Also understand that I won’t come at you like a thief in the night like say that egotistical little false communist like Jacob Knight or that false French king in Reginald Dampshaw...no, I will walk right up to your face and look you in those eyes of yours before I take what will be rightfully mine.”

“I can promise you that.”

{The serious look disappears from his face as he casually starts to walk once more within the Alamo, his very posture reflects this}

“Of course that is not why I brought you here today, I just wanted to get that bit of...history...as it where off of my chest so that I can focus more on recent history and that being you, Mister Oliver Harpe. Tell me my good sir as you fancy yourself a gravedigger, can you tell me why I brought you and I here to such a hallowed place this day?”

{Ryo stops and brings a hand up to his right ear, like he’s listening to what Oliver might be “saying”, but instead all that we hear in the background is the San Antonio streets to which Ryo simply nods}

“Not exactly the answer that I was looking for but it can be acceptable. You see I brought us here because much like this was the site of a great battle, once again this weekend a great battle shall be fought up the road from this very fort as you and I will do battle on Kingdom at the AT and T Center, to which I can promise you that from you I shall a battle almost as epic as the one that was fought here so long ago...or sir, I shall beat you into a very brutal and bloody submission with my own two hands.”

“In short, I want nothing but your best this Sunday night and nothing but your best shall do for if you do not, if you fight one lick below what I know you can do in that ring then be rest assured that I shall tear down your fledgling nation of dirt in one night… and there shall not be a damned thing that you can do about it, Oliver.”

“You see what happened at Kingdom should be the first indication of things to come because while you are more concerned with violence, I understand and use the science of violence and like any good chef worth their salt, I can use whatever is placed before me as a secret ingredient to my advantage and you simply have given me access to the best one possible my good man;”

“Your very style of wrestling.”

{Ryo motions for the camera to follow him and he enters an old enclosed space and motions at the room in front of him}

“Tell me Oliver, do you understand the importance of this room? Do you understand the enormity of the history of violence in this one...singular...SPOT alone?”

{Ryo looks at the camera like he’s expecting an actual answer before shaking his head and making a wide motion to the room before him}

“This is where Jim Bowie died, yes it was in a bed but he had his back braced against it with his signature knife at the ready and twin pistols in his hands which he used to take out two Mexican soldiers before the end came...a valiant end for such a noble but dark soul and yet here..in this PLACE...I can almost feel what he felt in that moment, a sheer and pure understanding that each step we take forward with each and with our sheer determination we WILL such things into reality and that, Oliver Harpe, that is why at Kingdom when you cross that line and into that very ring...any thought of making a reality where you come out the winner comes to a sharp and brutal end like so many people who accused Bowie of cheating over the years because all it takes is one singular moment in time, one accidental misstep, one sheer moment of arrogance….”

{Ryo then quickly brings up his left hand and sharply snaps his fingers}

“And just like that, the moment will pass and you will be all alone because that is how quickly I can end the match when I choose that the end has come, Oliver. One singular instant...one singular action...and one singular result that ends with one, two, three right there in the middle of the ring and you looking up, deaf and dumb as you try to understand why suddenly your face feels like it has been hit with a cannonball.”

{Ryo then turns and walks past the cameraman and back into the Alamo proper at which point he spreads his arms out wide to encompass the entire fort}

“And just like what happened here….you’ll become just another part of history as time marches on, without remorse nor emotion...that is what time is, Oliver. A beast with teeth made of the purist entropy pure and simple.”

{Ryo then turns to face the camera with a smile on his face}

“See you on Sunday, Oliver, and don’t forget to bring your history of violence with you.”

{With that Ryo simply walks away as the camera fades}

Re: OWA Promos July 2nd 2020, 11:14 pm by **The Banshee**

ODYSSEY PROMO #2

The Sun sets on the Saint's chances...

The camera opens up on what appears to be a webcam of sorts, showing a close-up of Morrighan McDonnell, who appears to be sitting in a hotel room shrouded in darkness. She smiles to herself, as she looks up and begins to speak:

"Well, looks like a certain kitty has some claws... but just like a kitten fighting a panther, you're clearly outclassed... outmatched... and out of time... Odyssey is approaching, as is our inevitable victory over you, Liara Lawson. And no, I'm not planning any type of special celebration for afterwards, because beating you isn't something that we need to celebrate... because as I've already stated, you're nowhere near our level, bitch! Naturally you'd be planning to party if, AND THAT'S A BIG "IF," you actually beat us in the ring... but let me bring you back to reality.

First off, I don't care who you compare yourself to... Alyssa Grace, Dulce Torres, it doesn't matter to us one bit, because we don't see us as equal to anyone else here... rather, we know that we are SUPREME AND BEYOND MEASURE TO ANYONE ON THE ROSTER! And we find it so amusing that you consistently continue focusing on our losses, because we REFUSE to let our defeats define us! Often the road to gold is paved with disappointment here and there, but what matters the most is achieving our goal of winning titles, so in the grand scheme of things, a few losses doesn't really affect our confidence level at all... Instead, it drives us further, gives us more motivation to not just defeat every opponent in our path... no, we've learned that in order to truly succeed, than we MUST DESTROY EVERY OPPONENT! It goes beyond a simple pinfall or submission... We want to make you hurt, make you bleed, make you scream for the mercy that we will deny you until our nearly-insatiable bloodlust is satisfied... THEN, AND ONLY THEN, WILL WE END THE NIGHTMARE FOR YOU!

You want us to go "stargazing" for you, but unfortunately, we see you everytime we pass a public toilet, because you're nothing more than sewer shit compared to our rising constellation... And yes, it's very clear that you don't look like an English teacher, because it's quite obvious you flunked out of school at an early age. Honestly, you sound like a recovering stroke victim that got an artificial injection of testosterone, but since you're so cavalier about your love of the heavy metal "lifestyle," it's very plausible that a syringe of "something" has affected your minimal brain activity. You certainly do talk more, but that's all we'll concede to you... Yes, I'm not so eloquent myself when it comes to talking, but we always back up what I bring on the mic, and this Saturday night, we'll once again prove it in every aspect when our hand is raised in victory!

How hypocritical are you to say that you're not "moping" around about your loss to Dulce Torres, but you continue to bring up our past losses? You yourself said these exact words"

A video clip of Liara Lawson's past promo plays, where she states, "Dulce Torres is of the best women to set foot in an OWA ring, and she beat me. I'm not gonna sit here feeling sorry for myself, moping and shit. I'm not going to make excuses. I'm going to move on." The camera then returns back to a smiling Morrighan.

"Ha! Move on!?! You haven't moved on at all! Instead, you've been projecting all your anxiety and self-doubt onto us, yet it must drive you crazy... it must drive you fucking insane, that we're not down on ourselves because we lost to Jonetta Stone again. We haven't made any excuses, and we still plan to meet Jonetta again down the road... after all, wouldn't it be such sweet irony if Stone manages to win a title, only to drop it to us down the road? We can exercise patience, because there are plenty of other fish to fry, but in your case, you're just a little barking goldfish in an ocean full of sharks! How many bumps did you snort in order to drown out your sorrows? We're guessing enough to make a Hell's Angel meth addict think that's way too damn much...

You may think that you're a future champion, but aren't all junkies often as self-delusional as you? You tell us that we can either "like it or loathe it," but honestly, we really don't give a fuck either way, because once again, you're not even on our radar screen. You're hardly nothing more than a "blip," one that'll quickly fade back into obscurity... You question my mental toughness, but you have no real idea how mentally tough someone like me has to be in order to "control" the other voices in my head. Do you think that the Banshee is the only one there? No, there are many, but the Banshee is the strongest one... and the most devious one at that. I struggle every day in not unleashing the Banshee's rage and evil, but as I've said myself, it's not for anyone's benefit but my own... And you think that we're some "middle-of-the-road gatekeeper?" The gatekeeper to what, exactly? If it's "mediocrity" that you're trying to refer to, than what exactly does that make you? Seeing as how you're not even close to our measuring cup of "greatness," you've likely got several more miles to go before you can even see those so-called "gates."

Anyone that has ever had to say that they've "never had a single STD" likely has several, if not nearly all of them. A junkie like you loves to play Russian Roulette with strangers' dicks almost every night. You probably have Hepatitis for every single letter of the fucking alphabet, and you probably would fuck the alphabet if you could. After all, one only has to hear you speak to know that you already "fucked" the English language... And "clean as a whistle?" Honestly, just mentioning your name makes us want to shower with scalding hot water! We're pretty sure your brand of soap is "used diaper" after all. So enjoy your daily "peanut butter and penicillin" sandwiches, and wash them down with some cheap piss-flavored beer, but after Saturday, your jaw may not be working properly after we break it, so the "Saint of Sucking" may want to get that shit out of her system now, because the only thing that you'll be able to "suck on" after the match is a feeding straw, as YOU WILL BE THE BITCH LAYING ON HER BACK IN THE HOSPITAL! No doubt a familiar position for you, both inside and outside the ring... And if you're charging others money for your little "post-match bash," the courteous thing to do is to not even bother taking their money yet, because we doubt you'll want to be doling out your drug money refunding the sad saps who actually believed that you had any type of chance against us! And that little quip about having standards? Well, it sounds like you actually confessed to necrophilia, so it's pretty obvious that you lack any standards whatsoever. However, would you want to know what we lack? A moral code, and that lack is gonna lead to you getting absolutely demolished and destroyed when you take us on this Saturday night, you stupid bitch!

BEWARE THE WRAITH OF THE RING! THE HARBINGER OF YOUR DOOM IS AT HAND! You will know fear... you will know hopelessness... and when that final bell rings, YOU WILL KNOW DEFEAT! WE... ARE... COMING... FOR... YOU!!!"

The camera cuts to black as Morrighan begins to loudly laugh in a maniacal fashion.

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