Well then, I bet you never expected that now, did you? I can guarantee you this is no trick of the eye, this is real, The Prince has come home. Now, believe me, I’ve waited a very long time for this moment, I’ve waited two months for this day and I swear to you, I never thought I’d get this moment... I’d never lived to feel it. But alas, I am here. Standing at attention, weeks after being just only wheelchair-bound for the sake of me not becoming paralysed completely from the waist down. But I’m not here to tell a sob story to get some fat fucks to care about me, I’ve got a Kingdom to take care of and take over. I was very glad to see that upon my return, I’d find myself mixed in with some of the OWA greats, some of their big names. Kenny Drake, your World Champion… Havoc, the briefcase holder… Jeff X, Clash of The Titans winner… Arata Asakura, the Spartans Champion… There’s just so much on one roster, there’s a reason why it’s the gold brand, the best brand in OWA right now! I know what you’re thinking, I left some people off! I did, but for a good reason. You see, I could go on and on listing them but I’d be boring you to death. There is, however, one name that would never make that cut. I think you know who.

Aria Jaxon.

The first and only woman to hold the OWA World Championship, the first-ever Clash of The Titans winner, the first-ever SSW Puroseau Heavyweight Champion, and so much more that makes her a self-proclaimed "Queen of OWA". Aria, I've heard so much about you! I've heard great things! I remember when I first signed on the dotted line for this place, I got tweets saying that they wanted an Aria Jaxon vs Maverick "dream match" and they waited so patiently for it so when the news broke that I was injured, they were afraid of how their hopes of this match happening might have just crumbled. So you can imagine my excitement when I got onto the Kingdom brand and I woke up this morning to the news of a championship match happening. Aria Jaxon versus Maverick for the OWA 24/7 Championship. This... this is what puts me on the map. This is what gets me finally noticed. You see, I felt that some OWA fans didn't think I was a messiah or something, nor was I a prince of anything. The hype that people gave me, knowing my other work in different places, wasn't the same vibe that people committed to anything OWA gave.

Did I say put me on the map? I joke... I'm already a fucking heir to the throne.

Did you really think that I'd come on here and make some claim that this match is something I needed to put me on the map in Kingdom? Come on now, if you know me, I'm not that easy-going, I'm not that fucking soft! Miss Aria Jaxon, a Queen of Omega and The Goddess of Hera incarnated into this form. How cute, how adorable. For someone with a heart of gold, you seem to have quite the mouth on you. I guess it's no wonder you were World Champion, with a mouth like yours, but if you go barking up the wrong tree, lightning's going to strike and you're going to end up in flames. Things really haven't been the same for you since you lost that World Championship, hasn't it? I mean, you had a good run-up towards Clash of The Titans but that never worked out well for you. The only thing that's kept you relevant right now is that you had to beat Carlos Rosso that bad he's now considering retirement. At first, I respect that, but realistically, that's the only thing we're going to remember you by in this entire year?

Let me tell you what I did for the last year, Aria. You might have been World Champion for a couple of hundred days but I was winning World Championships inside of an Elimination Chamber, or known here as a Promethean Chamber. I was ending Hall of Famer's careers, I was known as The Legend Killer in early 2019. I was a fucking ANTICHRIST for everyone within the last year, I carved my initials into a man's skull. I exposed a man's unborn son because he hid that miscarriage. I destroyed a poor woman's headstone because I wanted to kill her boyfriend. Do you think I won't do it again? Well, Aria? We all know who I'd target for your own sake, don't we? I'm the TRUE heir to the throne that OWA has, there's no queen to be in my way, no wolf, no demon, not a single fucker is going to be in my path. THIS IS MY FUCKING TAKE OVER OF MY KINGDOM!

THIS! IS! ALL! MINE! ALL OF IT!

But you...

Aria, you're trying to be remembered for the right reasons, to be a good person that your family wants you to be... that Aren wants you to be... that the fans want you to be. But you're ruining yourself by doing so, ruining your illustrious career, ruining everything you've won. Do you see where it got you? You've swapped out the World Championship for that 24/7 Championship, you were stabbed a bunch of times so you could lose, you're a fucking fraud of a queen if I could even call you that. Aria, that I'm trying to make a hell of a first impression, but I'm just trying to gain back my throne. I'm trying to get where I was, gain back the momentum I fucking lost within a heartbeat and if it begins with that 24/7 Championship? Then so be it, but just remember one thing, don't leave her disappointed because even from heaven she won't see your Sparks Fly.

I sure as hell wouldn't say it if it weren't true.

Character Development
Location: Blake Cassidy's home
8:30 pm



The scene opens up to Blake Cassidy sitting in his Livingroom, hunched over a laptop. The laptop's screen comes into view and a video of Blake Cassidy winning his first match since being signed to OWA. He eyes flicker back and forth as he scrolls through the YouTube comments.







"AND YOUR WINNER...BLAKE CASSIDY!"







He smiles, hearing his name announced over the speakers was almost like a dream. He continues to scroll through the comments and his smile fades just as quick as it appeared. A thread of comments catches his eyes.




BigBoiTom: "Blake Cassidy is so fucking annoying, dude just needs to quit wrestling. Wins one match and thinks he's a top star."




Orilio: He's had 2 matches and lost one of them lmao




OnYOurRIght: Give the dude some time, he hasn't been here for long




BigBoiTom: @OnYOurRight Yeah ok, not until he shows me something actually entertaining







Blake stares at the comments, re-reading them in his head. He grinds his teeth, clicking on the sign in option. He signs in under an anonymous name. quickly scrolling back to the thread of comments.







NotAmused: @BigBoiTom Like you can do any better? You probably spend your time sitting on your fatass in front of the computer screen, shoving your windpipe with Cheetos, huh? Now Why don't bend over for your little boyfriend @Orilio



His mouse hovers over the send button, smirking to himself as he re-read his comment. 



"Fuck..." 



Blake holds his head as he's stricken with a sudden headache, clenching his eyes shut for a few seconds. He reopens his eyes, looking back at his screen. "What?" He shakes his head and deletes the words from the comment, closing the laptop then slumps down in the couch. 



"Come on Blake...You can't let this get to you. It's just a stupid kid. You're the future."



He pushes himself to his feet and walks himself to the Kitchen. "Fuck...these headaches just keep getting worse." He grabs a bottle of water from the refrigerator and takes a long drink. He goes back to the laptop and looks for more video of him, eventually coming across his last promo. 


He watches himself push the camera to the floor as the yelling begins. He pauses the video as soon as it starts. He pinches the bridge of his nose and sets the bottle on the Livingroom table.  "I need to calm down, I don't need everyone watching me...at least not now". He closes the laptop once again and makes his way to the front door, grabbing his keys from a hook. His trademark Smile graces his face as he opens the door and steps out into the night.

( Our scene opens just as the camera pushes open and steps through a pair of glass doors. A 'Limited Personnel Only due to Covid-19' sign can be seen briefly taped to the inside of the door. The camera emerges into the front hall of what appears to be a gym, as the shiny hardwood-floored hallway is decorated on either side by shelves upon shelves of accolades and framed photographs. Most of the pictures are of men posing in wrestling tights some stretching so far back in time that they're in black and white many of the trophies appear to be the top prize of various tournaments and wrestling cups. But pervasively echoing throughout the hall as the cameraman slowly makes his way down it are the sounds of a struggle, the slamming and slapping of bodies on ring-canvas and the cheers and boos of several men. )

"Get out of it, man!"

"Don't let him show you up!"

"Dirty trick, asshole!"

"Hey ma -- *ghrrk* -- m-man I'm *hrrkgh* t-tapping!"

( As we emerge into the next room, which is a much larger rectangular room containing a wide variety of gym equipment and many shelves of weights and barbells, we see that a large space has been cleared in the center of it and a four-cornered wrestling ring set up to make use of the space. Three men stand on the floor near the apron, their attention mostly focused on the two men grappling on the canvas though they do glance back and notice the OWA camera-man.)

"Let the fucking camera guy through!"

(A voice we recognize orders quite clearly, and though none of the men present seem happy about it they oblige -- stepping back and out of the way as the cameraman nears and ascends the ring steps. Within we see that saying these men were grappling was a bit of an overstatement, Curze his his hands wrapped around his sparring partner's throat, the Crucible Clutch rear-naked choke locked in tight as the man helplessly continues to tap out, though it doesn't seem like the Ripper is done with him yet. Curze effortlessly keeps the hold locked in while he turnes his attention to the camera, and grins.)

"Glad you can join me -- I put out an add today saying hey, today is your last chance to spar with the Ripper and show him what you're worth before he fucks off to better and greener pastures. Only four guys had the balls to show up and if you can't tell, I'm not fucking impressed."

(The man Curze has locked into the hold is near passing out by now, wheezing hard. His attempts to tap out continue but become weaker and weaker. Another man standing near the apron calls out again!)

"For fucks sake man, let him out of it!"

(Curze rolls his eyes, but relents, releasing his hold on the other man -- who immediately gasps for breath -- and pushes him under the bottom rope and out of the ring with one hand.)

"Fucking pussy."

(Curze insults as he rises to his feet. The man that demanded Curze release the hold gives him a death glare, and slides into the ring under the bottom rope before popping to his feet. Curze watches, giving his new sparring partner a lopsided grin as they begin circling each other. Despite this, when he speaks he's still addressing the camera.)

"So, I heard somebody isn't quite done running his mouth yet."

"You better focus on me, asshole!"

(The other man, baited by Curze's seeming indifference to his presence, surges forward and attemtps to tie-up with the Ripper, but Curze steps to the side all-too-nimbly for a man who's 6'6 and only twenty-five pounds below three-hundred. Curze wraps his arms around the waist of the other man from behind and squeezes him tight with a clean waist-lock, which the other man quickly grunts in pain in response to and begins attempting to free himself with his hands.)

"As I was saying -- some ain't done running thier mouth yet and that someone is Micheal Fish. Just couldn't spare himself the impending humiliation, could he? Typical little-man complex."

(Suddenly, as if growing tired of the other man's fingers trying to pry himself out of the waist-lock, Curze's smirk turns into a teeth-gritting scowl and he lifts him up... ABSOLUTELY BRUTAL GERMAN SUPLEX! His sparring partner begins to rise very slowly, obviously winded and shaken from the impact. Curze, meanwhile, is back on his feet instantly.)

"Poor guy must be blind, thinkin' I'm hard to find. I live in and around the ring cuz, I don't do nothing else. Eat. Sleep. Wreck Jabronis. repeat. That's my whole lifestyle, my whole system. If you couldn't find me, you either wren't looking hard enough or were too scared to talk any of that trash in person. I'm betting it was the latter."

(The whole time he's speaking, Curze is facing the camera. His sparring partner, seeing this, glares daggers into the back of his head and lunges towards him. We see Curze's eyes drift to one side as he does so, as if anticpiating that he's coming -- and WHAM! Curze catches the man with a back-turn left cross to the jaw that sents the other man spinning to one knee. A quick kick from Curze to his spine pushes him down belly-first onto the mat again. The Ripper just chuckles.)

"This guy is just like you, Fish. A lot of balls, but only willing to act on 'em from a place of relative safety. You talk a lot of trash for someone who's gonna get dropped on his knock and choked the fuck out, Micheal. But I get it, gotta build up the hype and put on a good show, right?"

(Curze's sparring partner, with a surge of energy, suddenly lunges to his feet and tries to drive his shoulder into the Ripper's waist. Curze has enough time to plant his feet and brace himself for the impact though, and counters by simply leaning over and slapping on an inverted waistlock... POWERBOMB! The other guy is seeing stars, and when Curze turns around to face the camera again he flips it the bird.)

"Fuck you and your podcasts, Fish. I don't give a fuck when or where you wanna talk trash at me, what matter sis that you don't got the balls to stand in the same room as me and do it. It's a hot fucking take to be from hick-central and call somebody else trailer trash, mister EL PASO. What a fucking joke you are, wasting time jerking yourself and Carson off in a studio while I'm out here grinding up bodies. Just proves beyond a shadow of a doubt that you ain't ready for me, just like the other four pricks in our match."

(His sparring partner has finally gotten to his feet, and approaches Curze. He stretches out an arm to grab onto Curze's shoulder and the Ripper whips around... SWORD OF THE END! The sight of the man being dropped so hard right onto his neck is sickening, almost as sickening as the nasty kick Curze give's the man's neck as he writhes on the floor.)

"Don't fucking interrupt me, bitch."

"That's it, asshole!"

(The only man not yet to enter the ring with Curze hops from the floor onto the apron as Curze stretches out his arms with a sadistic smirk, inviting him in. He's only half way through the ropes though, when Curze rushes forward and catches him with a vicious lariat. The back of the other man's neck is restricted from bending back in order to deal with the impact by being awkwardly caught on the top rope, and Curze drags the near unconscious man into the ring by his neck before dropping him face first onto his knees... UNMAKER! The guy begins to tap but Curze doesn't release the hold, instead just laughing as the other men go from booing to swarming the ring, desperately trying to pry their friend out of the hold while cursing him out. finally, long after the poor guy has passed out, Curze relinquishes the hold and although they try, nobody is able to stop him from getting to his feet. He lays each man standing out with a stiff kick or punch, most of them sliding out under the bottom rope -- but those that don't he pushes out with one foot.)

"Get the FUCK out of my ring!"

(Curze stands there for a moment, the last man standing in the ring before he turns his attention back to the observing cameraman and stalks up VERY close.)

"I'm the fucking shadow over Olympus, the one that's gonna drown the top of the mountain in darkness. I'll chocke out or knock out every and ANY son of a bitch they put me in a ring with, belt or no fuckin' belt. That is, unless they bitch-out and tap-out first. Eon, Gavin, Jacob, Noah... and Micheal -- consider this your last fucking warning. Fish can call himself a pandemic all he wants, but motherfucker I am an EXTINCTION EVENT!"

(Fade.)

Michael Fish joins an OWA Podcast to break down his first match in OWA.

Conrad: Hey hey it’s Conrad Thompson and you’re listen to ...OWA Weekly with....yours truly and today we have a very special guest and it’s someone many of you probably don’t know but probably should and you will definitely all know soon. It’s a man coming all the way from El Paso, Texas where he was the reigning El Paso Champion before he walked away on top to pursue his dream and will make his OWA debut in a 5 way match this week. Of course I’m talking about the Big Fish Michael Fish! Michael what’s goin on man how are you?

Michael: You know Conrad in some ways I’ve had a lot better weeks but in others this is the best week of my life. I lost some people in my corner but I’m getting my start in OWA which is something I’ve dreamed of for years so to be here is exciting.

Conrad: I know what you mean I’ve had weeks like that myself but I’m sure you’ll bounce back and be stronger than ever. Well Michael first thank you for making the time to be with us today I’m sure you have a lot going on with the move from El Paso so let’s not waste time and let’s get right into it. I was really loving your work in El Paso and I get the draw to OWA but when I heard you were coming to OWA it did take me by surprise. Walk us through your decision; what led you to make it, how long were you considering it?

Michael: Conrad, OWA was a lifelong dream and as much as I loved El Paso it was always a stepping stone. If you grow up wanting to play baseball you dream of playing for the a major league team the Astros or Rangers or whoever your team is not a minor league team right? El Paso as great as it is it’s the minor leagues and OWA is the major leagues and if you’ve seen me go you know I’m a major league talent. They don’t call me the big fish for nothing.

Conrad: Fair enough but that does lead me to another question you call yourself the big fish but you’ve quite literally entered the land of giants. How do you plan to adapt your game now that your going to be as you said in the major leagues where everyone is bigger, stronger, better, faster?

Michael: You’re not the first to ask me but I will tell you as I’ve told everyone else I’m not changing my game at all. I’m not worried about the size of the competitors I think the real question will be how will they adapt for me? Nobody has ever faced anyone quite like me before with the moves of a heavyweight and the speed and stamina of a cruiserweight. I bring the best of both worlds Conrad and I think my opponents are going to learn that first hand this Friday.

Conrad: Well I’m definitely excited to see so let’s break down those opponents and let’s start with Eon Blue. What are your first impressions of Eon Blue?

Michael: When I first heard I was in a match with Eon Blue I had no idea who that was so I fired up YouTube and did a quick search for Eon Blue and you know what I found Conrad?

Conrad: What’s that?

Michael: YouTube doesn’t know who the hell Eon Blue is either. Then I heard what he said about The Big Fish not belonging in OWA so Eon I’m going to help you get YouTube famous by kicking your ass all over the area and deliver such devastating maneuvers the clips will go viral on YouTube. I anticipate one called “Eon Blue speared through the barricade” another “Eon Blue jackhammered off the top rope from Michael Fish” and my favorite of all “Viewer Discretion Advised: Eon Blue career ending injury at the hands of Michael Fish”

Conrad: Well I understand your frustration but the guy has a family so I would hate to see that happen but let’s keep it moving here and talk about Noah Quinn.

Michael: On one hand Noah Quinn is the dime a dozen heel that every promotion cycles through. There’s nothing special about him and he’s an easy victim to show OWA what I’m all about. But on the other hand it’s guys like him that my fans love to see me destroy so I’m kind of glad he’s here. But then let’s be realistic has anyone even seen him around? The only thing shorter than his promo will be the amount of time in the ring he lasts with me.

Conrad: Yeah we definitely haven’t seen much of him and he’s not a big guy either so I’m definitely curious to see what that matchup looks like between the two of you. Let’s move onto Curze.

Michael: For the last week I didn’t even know if he was alive anymore nobody had heard a thing from him. I figured he was scared of the pandemic hiding in his trailer but out he came finally and he’s about to realize that no quarantine will keep him safe from Michael Fish. This guy is talking about murder but he’s going to find out what playing for keeps is like when he’s not talking trash from the safety in his bedroom in his mommas trailer in the trailer park and he’s standing face to face with the big fish. I’m telling you right now Conrad after the beat down I’m about to give that piece of trash the next time we hear from him won’t be next week it will be next year when his dumb ass wakes up from a coma. When he wakes up asking the doctor what year is it? Who is the president? Did the pandemic get me? The doctor will tell him yes, Curze, the pandemic of Michael Fish got you. You wrote a check with your mouth that you couldn’t cash. It will be my pleasure to put his ass on disability in this match. I’m pissed off that I’m even being put in there with bottom feeders like this guy. The fans want to see me competing for championships not working with wanna be gangster bitches like Curze.

Conrad: You know I couldn’t agree with you anymore about Curze. The others I happen to enjoy their work but this guy...I’ll leave it at that but I do have to say that I for one am glad you’re gonna be in there I think it’s going to be a good test to see how you really do match up. Moving along, your take on Gavin McArdle?

Michael: I really love this guys style it’s similar to mine from what I know of him. He approaches it with aggression and some power moves so I’m excited to get in there and mix it up with him but again where the hell has he been? At this point he’s nothing more than enhancement talent but if he shows up I’m more than happy to help him take a few big bumps.

Conrad: and last but not least Jacob Nighttime?

Michael: Conrad I really don’t even know where to begin. What kind of name is Nighttime? I suggest for Jacob that he focus on the others in the match because if he gets tangled up with me it will be nighttime for him when I put his ass to sleep.

Conrad: Well Michael like I said I am a big fan of your work but I do have to wonder how your style will cross over. There have been a lot of smaller guys that have made some adjustments and found success facing much bigger opponents. Are you not willing to even consider any changes?

Michael: Again Conrad, I get this question a lot. I’m confident it’s going to be fine. If things don’t go as expected then I would need to really consider my future. I’m living my dream right now, I’m on the top of my game and the fans love it. When that doesn’t work anymore I will probably walk away.

Conrad: I think I know some guys that can help you out before you go that route. Some of the biggest names from your childhood I’m close with and I really want to see you succeed so give me a call if it comes down to it and I can get you in contact with them. Hopefully it doesn’t I for one am really looking forward to your debut.

Michael: I appreciate the offer and will keep that in mind but today I do not need any assistance from anyone but the fans.

Conrad: Before you go, what should the fans know about you that haven’t seen you go before?

Michael: If you have ever seen Spud Webb dunk a basketball or watched Russel Wilson play quarterback you will see guys who break the mold of what you would expect. Spud Webb won the slam dunk title, Russel Wilson won the super bowl and might be the top quarterback in the league and now nobody talks about his size. I am a guy who breaks the mold. You’re going to see passion and intensity that you’ve never seen and not only do I do it to pursue my dreams I do it for the fans so when you come out and support me just know you’re part of the action. If we could fast forward a few months I guarantee you that nobody will be talking about my size anymore they will be talking about the titles I will be competing for.

Conrad: With that I will let you go thank you for your time and hopefully we can have you back on after your debut this week.

Michael: Absolutely I look forward to breaking down the match with you after I break down the first five victims.

Conrad: That was Michael Fish a real great guy and I definitely wish him nothing but the best and I’m Conrad and we are out of time. See you next week on OWA Weekly with .... yours truly.

"People really need to learn not to run their god damned mouths."

( The scene is set: a near black room, only a sole hanging bulb illuminating it's contents. The far wall taken up completely by a large mirror, the only feature within the room other than the brooding and looming presence before it. Curze faces away from the camera, but we can see his reflection in the mirror nonetheless. Cold eyes locked into a murderous glare, brows knit in anger and lips turn southwards in a dark scowl. He wears ripped jeans, a dark shirt and around his neck his trademark towel.)

"My name is Curze, and what I do in that ring? My critics are right, it ain't wrestling. It's MURDER, brought to you on live television and pay-per-view. A slow, methodical dissection of the human body. The squared circle becomes a slaughterhouse when I step between those ropes, the domain of the Butcher, the Ripper. I don't just DOMINATE, I MUTILATE. Nobody walks away from a fight with me, they limp or they drag themselves away if they're lucky enough not to need a STRETCHER. And these aren't just claims cuz, these are facts. You can find videos of me all over the internet, plenty of hard evidence to support my shit. But even with all that, my opponents feel like its a good idea to wag their tongues around. Fine by me, really -- don't give a shit that there's five of you... fuck there could be ten if you. Twenty. Doesn't matter. The outcome would be the same. Me, standing on a pile of broken bodies."

(Curze curls his digits into fists and rolls he's neck to one side, which pops loudly. His lips pull up into a fiendish, lopsided smirk.)

"You think we'd be friends, EON? That's rich, almost cute. I don't do friends Blue... hell, even earning my respect is a damn-near impossible task. You see similarities and it breaks your widdle heart that we have to fight? Grow a fucking set, BITCH, fighting is what we do. I don't give a damn if we have similar goals, similar methods. I don't see a like-mind in you, I see a CHEAP CURZE KNOCKOFF if anything. People are calling you some kind of cult leader but I think that's a load of shit: you've got all the charisma and wrestling skills of a wet paper-bag, so who in the fuck would follow you? You think you're hot shit Eon, but you're not. You're nothing but a fragile neck for me to wrap my fingers around and squeeze until you stop breathing. You got some kinda grand plan? Some big scheme? Better go back to your drawing board, and I sincerely hope it fits in the little box I'm about to bury what's left of you in."

(Curze let's out a short chuckle, a dark sound that makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.)

"Jacob Nighttime -- fucking stupid name by the way -- he thinks I should be scared of him. He thinks he's coming for my soul, that he's the fucking boogeyman that everyone in this match and back in that locker room should be afraid of. Dumbass, THE ONLY THING THEY SHOULD FEAR IS ME. I don't even know how much breath I want to waste on you Jacob... you can barely TALK let alone fight. Worst part of it all is I bet talking is ALL YOU CAN DO. Fuck, I haven't seen anything this pathetic in a long time. And you know, a better man would take it easy on you -- put you down quick and mercifully. But me? I like to make sure nobody like you wastes my time twice. So I'm gonna pull you apart slow, dissect you in front of the rest of our opponents and the whole crowd to show why you DO. NOT. FUCK. WITH. ME."

"Then there's Micheal Fish and man, if Jacob wasn't in this match you'd be the real waste of space here. And what we've got is a classic tale of hubris too, a little fish that thinks he's a big fish. So he swims out to the big wide ocean, only to get eaten alive. Guess you forgot there's always a bigger fish, huh? And it's as easy for me to be bigger, better and badder than you as it is for me to roll out of bed... or just breathe. You should have listened to the other minnows in that little pond cuz, because now you're up against a GREAT WHITE SHARK and he's gonna eat you alive. I'll pick you up, stretch you out and crush you flat -- like an accordion in a fuckin' cartoon. But this ain't Loony Tunes, so the consequences are gonna be very, VERY real."

"GAVIN, you may not be as embarrassing as Fish and Jacob are on paper but you're just as much of an afterthought. Just another stepping stone on my path of destruction, too small an insignificant to be much of a threat to anyone. And what are you gonna do to prove me wrong, huh? Hit me with a stick? I'm not some twelve year-old Irish punk reenacting how hard the English have given it to his country for its entire history, I'M THE GOD-DAMNED RIPPER. Not only am I just gonna look at you like you're a fucking idiot if you try to hit me with that thing, if you bring it ANYWHERE NEAR me I'm gonna snap it in half and shove both of 'em down your throat JAGGED ENDS FIRST. I got no issues if you wanna turn this match into a pub-brawl Gavin, but I WILL FUCKING RUIN YOU no matter how you come at me. And if you don't want me to end your already short career PERMANENTLY, you better tap-out quick."

(Curze rolls his shoulders, and let's out a low hum.)

"That leaves Noah Quinn, and he thinks this is all bullshit. Props to be the first of these five schmucks to be right about something cuz, but you're still a little far away from the center mark. Everybody else is bullshit, but me? I'm the REALEST motherfucker in any room, IN ANY MATCH, IN ANY COMPANY, ON ANY CONTINENT. You think I'm blowing smoke up your ass, cuz? You've got it twisted, the only thing going up your ass is MY FOOT, so far up there that you'll be flossin' with my bootlaces. No tragic backstory or traumatic childhood here Noah, so sorry to disappoint, IM JUST AN EVIL SON OF A BITCH. I don't need an justification or deep motivation to hurt people, ruin people, UNMAKE them... it's just fun. I ENJOY IT. And when I meet you and these other four sacrificial lambs in the ring -- I'll be the one getting my arm raised at the end. Gavin, Jacob, Fish, Eon... and you Noah? By the time I'm done, you all might just be BLOODY STAINS ON THE CANVAS!"

(Curze suddenly lashes out, his fist impacting the huge mirror like a bolt of lightning. The resulting thousands of spiderweb-like cracks make the mirror an unusable heaping safety hazard of broken glass, and Curze quickly whirls on the camera. He snatches it up with both hands like a bear trap clamping down on unsuspecting prey and pulls it uncomfortably close.)

"My name is Curze, and I am a CURSE! NO ONE WILL REST, NO ONE WILL BREATH EASY WHILE I AM HERE. NO. ONE. IS SAFE!"

(Curse roars into the camera before shoving it backwards and onto the floor. Our last upwards shot is of Curze swinging for the sole light-bulb, which shatters on contact with his palm and plunges the room into darkness.)

End.

Another day of rigorous training has been completed at the OWT PC and the place is nearly empty as most everyone has already gone home for the day.  But while the building is mostly silent, we can still hear the repeated banging of a punching bag being struck in the corner of the room.  The camera spins around and we can see that the lone man still left working is not an actual member of the OWT roster...it's Jeff X.  He’s completely drenched in sweat and dressed only in a pair of gym shorts, sneakers, and his signature camouflage Realtree hat.  He has no shirt on, revealing his muscular frame, but also that his ribs have been heavily taped up from his battle with Bull Connors at Final Destination.  His hands are also taped, to offer some semblance of protection as he viciously wails away at the bag causing it to sway back and forth.  His face appears completely void of emotion as every ounce of concentration that he has is focused only on the bag before him.  He never slows up or holds back...just repeatedly unleashing a flurry of left and right hands, each one with seemingly more force than the one preceding it.  But we suddenly hear a door slam and it would appear that Jeff is not alone in the building after all.  The camera spins around and we see OWT star Presley Dawn emerging from the locker rooms with a gym bag slung over her shoulder.


Presley walks over to Jeff, beer in her hand, and watches him for a moment, almost with a look of concern on her face.  Jeff doesn’t appear to notice her...or at least pretending like he doesn’t.

Presley:  “Hey, I brought you a beer.  Figured you could use it.”

Presley smiles and sets the bottle down on the bench beside them.  Jeff glances down at it slightly and merely grunts in response as he continues his attack on the punching bag.

Presley:  “Big match coming up this week.  Did you hear what Derelict and Havoc had to-”


Jeff:  I saw it.

Presley:  “Don’t you think you should take a break?  You’ve been in here every day since Final Destination.   You’re here when we all show up and you’re still here when we all leave.  We all saw the match against Bull.  It was brutal.  Don’t you think you should go home...take some time to rest?”

Jeff:  “Can’t.”

Jeff still hasn’t taken his eyes from the bag, nor stopped his workout.  Presley frowns and stares at him for a moment, but she doesn’t dare bother to argue with him any longer.

Presley:  Alright...well...I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.

She pauses for a moment hoping to garner some kind of reaction from Jeff, but not getting one, she just  grabs her bag and heads for the door.  She gives one last concerned glance back over her shoulder at Jeff before making her way outside.  As soon as the door shuts, Jeff stops wailing away at the bag and stares up at the door.  It’s strange...Presley’s an attractive girl...the kind that Jeff would normally jump at the chance to conversate with, but, for perhaps the first time ever, he can’t even focus on girls right now.  He merely walks over to the bench and sits down, wincing in pain as he grabs at his ribs.  He starts unraveling the tape from around his hands and we can see blood stains on the tape as he unwraps, revealing his knuckles split wide open from the relentless strikes on the bag.  God knows how long he’s been wailing away on it.  He reaches into his own gym back and pulls out his pack of Marlboro Reds, lighting one up as he grabs the beer and takes a long swig from it before speaking in that familiar southern accent of his.


“The truth is...I’d love to go home.  I’d love to be able to take a break and get some rest.  Final Destination was once again a brutal ordeal for me.  Much like last year I went out there and put everything on the line and for the second straight year I put on the best damn match of the show.  But unlike last year...I was unable to walk away with the belt.  So this time around...there’s no celebrating...no moment of triumph...no big beer bash celebration.  There’s only me...left at the back of the line once again.  It took me two years of fighting my way through this company...and a lifetime of struggle before that….just to get to that point...the main event of Final Destination…Omega Heavyweight Championship on the line...and….I failed.  And I could go home.  Go sit on my porch in North Carolina and allow all of these aches and pains to heal...but I don’t have the time for that.  I’m not getting any younger and I have to get back to work...I NEED to get back to work...because Final Destination wasn’t the end for me.  It was a setback to be sure.  And I’m not here to offer any cheap excuses on why I’m standing here without the championship right now.  Bull Connors...on that night...he was the better man.  I threw everything that I had at him, but the son of a bitch just wouldn’t stay down.  He proved me wrong.  And for that...Bull...it may not add up to a whole hell of a lot, but for what it’s worth...you’ve earned my respect.  I’ve stepped into the ring with a lot of bad motherfuckers in my time, but you may very well be the toughest damn one I’ve ever come across.  Despite anything I may have said about you in the last few weeks...I know better now.  I take it all back.  You indeed deserve to wear that championship.  You earned it.  You proved that to me and the rest of the world two weeks ago in Miami.  But I’m sure you know by now that I’m not giving up on this just yet.  With the draft rapidly approaching, you and I could find ourselves on the same brand for the first time in our careers, and if we do?  Then you best believe I’m going to fight my way right back to that top spot once again and you and I are going to do this dance just one more time.”

Jeff takes another drag from his smoke, washing it down with a swallow from the bottle of beer that Presley Dawn so graciously gave him.

“And that long road back to the top unfortunately leaves me without any time to rest as it starts this weekend right here in Philadelphia where I must team with the man I just went to war against.  One might think that maybe I have some reservations in having to stand in the same corner as Bull...but those kinds of thoughts have never entered my mind.  Bull and I may have beaten the holy hell out of one another just two weeks ago...but that simply means that I now know for sure just how hard Bull Connors is willing to go to get the job done.  Truth be told, there isn’t anybody I’d rather have on my side, because...trust me when I tell you...it can be rather painful when you find yourself opposing him.  Everyone saw what we did at Final Destination.  Eighty thousand people strong with the stakes as high as it gets...every eye on us...and we tore that fucking roof off the place in what may very well have been the single greatest match that this company has ever seen.  So what do you think is going to happen when the two men involved in that match join forces?  Do you honestly think that there’s any two men on this planet...let alone in this company, that could stop us?  I don’t care who you pit against us...they would be destined to fail...and the fact that it’s Sabertooth and Derelict?  Well that just makes this match a foregone conclusion before it even starts.”

Jeff lets the cigarette fall to the floor where he snuffs it out under one of his sneakers, before partaking in yet another drink.

“Truth be told, I haven’t really gotten the chance to acquaint myself with Derelict yet...but I don’t need to...not really anyway.  I’ve seen a hundred men like him before with the same bullshit story of ‘iM jUsT hErE tO hUrT pEoPlE’.  Oh just shut the fuck up already.  You say the same mindless shit week after week, but since you have a decent comprehension of the English language, nobody seems to even notice.  You claim to be here to cause pain and destruction, but who have you hurt Derelict?  Who?  Jake Keeton?  Is that supposed to impress me?  Or maybe it’s the crippled hobos that you’ve left in your wake for crowding your burn barrel on a cold winter night?   I guess THAT’S what’s supposed to strike fear into my heart, huh?  Get real.  You’re nothing more than another lumbering jackass that’s too arrogant for your own good.  As if a few inches and sixty extra pounds is somehow going to compensate for severe lack of ability in general.  You drone on and on about being a survivor and that’s fine...maybe you are.  You’ve managed to make it this far in life after all.  But the thing that separates men like me from men like you...it’s not the size disparity...no...I’ve beaten bigger and I’ve beaten better...but it’s that men like myself aren’t content with merely surviving Derelict...we’re here to thrive...to ACTUALLY be one of the strong that you misguidedly like to classify yourself as.  But that couldn’t be further from the truth, could it?  You sit around waiting for the impending apocalypse so that the strong will inherit the Earth...but the strong...the ACTUAL strong...they don’t wait to inherit a damn thing.  They just go out and they take it.  And this Friday night I’m going to take from you until there’s absolutely nothing left to take.  Piece by piece I’m going to physically rip that smug confidence from you and leave you nothing more than the broken, pathetic scum of the Earth that you are.”

Jeff again takes a quick drinking pause before continuing.

“Fortunately, you do have a partner to rely on Derelict...but unfortunately, that partner happens to be Christopher Sabertooth.  So Chris...you finally managed to win yourself a big match here, did you?  After God knows how many free chances you’ve been given, you FINALLY managed to succeed in one.  Unsurprising.  Sheer odds dictate that eventually you’d fuck up and actually do something right.  But even on a night when you succeeded...I was still there to thwart your plans, wasn’t I?  What you think that I was going to do all the fucking work and let you come in and leave with the championship?  Not a fucking chance.  While everyone else may be ready to raise you to the top of this company, I’ll be god-damned if you’re going to get there by stepping over me.   Hell truth be told, you’d probably already be there if it weren’t for me, wouldn’t you Chris?  Spartans title match?  Defeated by me.  Clash of the Titans?  I walked out the winner.  Briefcase cash in?  I wouldn’t allow it.  I bet that eats away at you, doesn’t it?  It’s probably one of the reasons that caused you to go postal in the first place.  Knowing deep down in your bones that no matter what you do, I’ll always be better than you.  Cause death and taxes aren’t the only things guaranteed in this life my friend.  There is one other constant that will always remain...and that’s that Chris Sabertooth does NOT beat Jeff X.”


Just then Jeff looks up as Presley Dawn walks back through the door, forgetting to grab something apparently as the scene fades to black.

Retro Dance music from the 1960’s can be heard playing in the background as the scene opens up in black and white, in what appears to be a normal house. As normal as it can be considering that it looks to be set in that era of time as well, fitted with a poster of Elizabeth Taylor, an old CRT TV and room decor that matches the setting. Jada Blaire, wearing a printed dress with a bow along with the beehive hairstyle, walks into the frame doing chores around the house. A man dressed in a dull suit and tie walks up to Jada, with a rather huge grin plastered over his face. Havoc, not boasting the face paint, looks in the mirror before turning his attention towards Jada.

“Honey, I am getting late for work! Have you seen my suitcase?” He asked as Jada seemed distracted with setting up the table for breakfast. “Sugar! I said, have you seen my briefcase! I should have started 15 minutes ago. I am sure Mr. Taylor would not appreciate me being late to work.” He said with a condescending tone towards his partner. He points at the Grandfather clock in the corner as the pendulum is seen slowly swinging in the background.

“Uh. Did you look around the house properly?” Said Jada as Havoc nods his head in response.

“Well, where was the last time you saw it?” She questioned as Havoc shakes his head in annoyance.


“If I knew where I saw it-- I wouldn’t be asking ya! Come on, honey. I am skipping breakfast anyway! Just help me find it, will ya?” He replied, slowly beginning to lose patience. Jada drops the ceramic plate onto the floor in frustration as Havoc gets startled by her action. She sprints into her bedroom to search for the briefcase.

“Woah! Woah! What was that for?! Those plates aren’t for free! Jeez, you could have just told me where it is!” He replied, with a hint of hesitation in his tone. Jada storms out of the bedroom with the briefcase in hand and throws it over towards Havoc before heading back to the dining area, walking over the broken shards of the plate. Although the broadcast is black and white, it’s pretty clear that Jada cut her feet open but she doesn’t seem to be bothered by it and neither is Havoc.

“See! That’s why, you’re the best! And clean that damn floor will ya? Looks stained to me…. Anyway, I will be off for work! See you in Hell!” He exclaimed nonchalantly, before walking out of the house with the briefcase in hand. That briefcase just so happens to be the Ascension To The Heaven’s Briefcase that Havoc won at Final Destination. Havoc, with an unnatural smile on his face, paces down the roadway in a rather animated fashion as “I’m a Believer” by The Monkees starts playing in the background.

People around the street take a knee and bow as Havoc passes them, without giving them any attention. With every passing moment, more and more people seem to be gathering around the streets, taking a knee like the people before them. The camera pans around the street to show that with every house Havoc was passing by, his reflection did not appear on the windows. With every fleeting moment, Havoc started walking faster and faster, his smile getting bigger and bigger until he finally arrived at his destination. His final destination, perhaps. The camera pans around to reveal that Havoc is standing in front of a door. The camera zooms in on his right arm to reveal that Havoc has a knife in hand. A knife, possibly used before for an act of crime or simply vengeance. A knife so rusted that a mere cut would infect a Lion and bring it down to its knees.  People have now surrounded him as he slowly opens it to reveal nothing but endless darkness on the other side. Without any hesitation Havoc enters through the doorway and it automatically shuts close.


The scene now cuts to a dark room, as a match stick can be heard being struck against a surface as the flamer flutters on. The camera slowly pans around to reveal a figure puffing on to a cigarette. A bulb above said figure, flickers on to reveal Havoc, now dressed in his ring gear and face paint on, holding on to the Ascension To The Heaven’s briefcase. He is seen sitting on a wooden rocking chair-- with a laid back attitude. He slowly runs his fingers down the briefcase as a smirk appears over his face, in appreciation of the sight in front of him. One Year Ago, Christopher Sabertooth had embarked on a similar journey-- But he failed. But Havoc, finally proved to the world that he is not Christopher Sabertooth. And now, he stands one step closer to achieving his destiny of becoming World Champion in OWA. 

“Remember-- Remember how I warned them that a revolution was on its way… They didn’t believe me, did they? They thought that I was just another man, spewing all this hate-- Like a leftist with a microphone and no agenda. Egalitarianism doesn’t only exist in an IDEAL world! Social Equality isn’t a fallacy! I PROVED to the world that people like me can win. They can win it all! And I did this WITHOUT the help of a corporation doubling down on me-- WITHOUT the help of the system whose role is to churn out factory made robots that bend to the will of their creator! FREE WILL HAS FINALLY WON! And it was all because of one thing and one thing alone… FEAR. They NEVER listened to me. They NEVER gave a shit about the ‘threat’ that I possessed. They only cared about results and now THEY have it. But just look around you and you’ll still find people trying to twist this around as a mere fluke-- Trust me, these aren’t the words of my doubters. These are the words of the management who think they’re just living through their worst nightmare that will eventually pass by. Perhaps, somebody can pinch them to see if we have somehow traveled to an alternate reality where somebody like me can rise above the system and CUT IT DOWN from its roots. Because the revolution has BEGUN! My brothers and sisters that trusted me to succeed-- You have an answer! You have a voice! Run free, my love! Run free and RID this world of its problems by the ONLY way they truly understand. FEAR! FEAR! FEAR! FEAR!” He screams at the top of his lungs, before breaking into uncontrollable laughter. 

“Y-You see…” He continues, as his expression suddenly changes to that of a stone faced killer. 

“And at the end of Final Destination, I was just mere moments away from achieving something that this company has tried avoiding for about two years. I did have it-- It was in my arm. Heck, I could feel it. BUT of course, we had to have a party pooper!” He remarks, chuckling to himself as he says it.

“Jeff… You had your shot, didn’t you? You had your chance to walk away with the title but you weren’t able to. So, just like everybody else in this world before you-- You see that I am about to achieve something that you couldn’t. And the jealousy kicked in… You could not see me succeed, could you? I knew since day one that it was killing you on the inside that after all your efforts, the management chose SABERTOOTH to be the next in line. Even through his failures, they kept giving him chances that he didn’t deserve while you were paving the way for up and coming wrestlers like yourself. You won the Spartan’s Championship and held that title for longer than anybody else! Heck, Sabertooth himself failed to get it off you. YET, he got a chance to face Aria Jaxon for the OWA title and you didn’t. After all this time, it wasn’t about me was it. Just seeing that familiar face show up and take away the thing that you busted your ass for-- You couldn’t have it. Now, think about the way you felt at that moment. Think about the HATRED flowing through you that made you what you did! THAT’S EXACTLY HOW MY PEOPLE HAVE FELT FOR THE ENTIRETY OF THEIR LIVES! THEIR HARD WORK GOING DIRECTLY GOING INTO THE LAPS OFF THE MACHINE WHILE THEY CONTINUED TO STRUGGLE EVERY FUCKING DAY! That’s how I felt trapped in Sabertooth’s body! That’s how I felt for all this time, seeing him fail and fail while people like Nasir Moore-- Like Gareth Cason-- Like YOU, Jeff. People like YOU…. Bring us back down. Cause we’re not supposed to have the good things in life, are we? Well, luckily for me-- The ticket to immortality that I hold will not be tainted by that moment. I WILL have my chance again. Who knows, maybe after I skin you and your partner alive, I will cash in this briefcase and walk out with the belt you FAILED to capture. So-- don’t get it twisted Jeff! The moment you laid your finger on me-- That was when I decided that you deserve to DIE. And over the next couple of months-- that you have left in this world, I will make it worse than hell. I will make it worse than THE DEVIL ever could. But I won’t have to do it by myself.” He chuckles to himself, as if to hold back some information. He takes a puff out of his cigarette and smiles at the camera, as it zooms in.

“And Bull? Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice-- and I can’t get fooled again. You got lucky… But Jeff is a selfish man! He won’t be at your side for much longer. The moment he sees an opportunity, he will stab you in the back-- just the way he did with Sabertooth. Just the way he does with everybody else. After all, he’s a puppet to his own inherent vice. Lust. Greed. ENVY! Be careful with who you trust, for they are not who they seem to be. You survived-- That’s all you did. SURVIVE. You can’t delay the inevitable, Bull. You can’t put me down for much longer cause that’s what I seem to be good at. Getting back up, again and again. Akin to what you did at Final Destination. I do respect that, by the way. There’s no hard feelings for what I attempted right after. That was the card I was dealt with and I chose to play the game. But I will do it again. And again. And again. And if you die in the process, I’ll be sure to send my condolences. I have to act while the iron is still hot. The people around the world are SEEING history in the making. And for that, I need every piece of guild-- every bit of attention I can get. After all, an artist is nothing without an audience. FEAR....THE INEVITABLE.” He exclaims, raising his hand in the air as if he were feeding off the energy of an audience that didn’t exist.


“And finally-- My partner in crime. Derelict. If I was after your validation, I would have put on a dress and posed for you as you deem fit. But I am not. So, if you have any qualms with what happened at Final Destination, I’ll be HAPPY to entertain you. While I may be stuck in the proverbial Dante’s Inferno that you speak of, regardless of the fact that I stared THE DEVIL in his eyes and I made him my bitch… Regardless of all that… I ascended to the top of the ladder and unhooked the prize at hand while you looked UP to see the level I had climbed to, in that moment. Don’t forget that! You still have to LOOK UP to see the man that beat 5 other competitors to walk out with the key to immortality. And while I will etch my name in history-- You will CONTINUE to look up to me till the day you die. So, be careful with what you wish for. Cause you just might get what you want.” He smiled, before flicking away his cigarette. The camera slowly pans out as Havoc begins to rock on his chair. With every passing moment, he goes faster and faster until the whole room lights up to reveal a rather large area surrounded with white walls that has the words “join me” painted onto it all over, in 'red'. Beside Havoc are a bunch of teak wood coffins, shut closed. As the scene comes to an end, sirens start echoing throughout the room as a coffin bursts open, just as the video breaks into static noise. 

April 12, 2020
Purpose: Character Development
Don Haskins Center El Paso, Texas
El Paso Wrestling Sunday Night Stampede

Michael Fish has just defended the El Paso Wrestling Championship in the main event by defeating his opponent in less than two minutes with his signature spear followed by a jackhammer. After celebrating his championship victory in front of a sold out crowd Michael makes his way back to the locker room and his mood quickly changes from elated to somber as he begins to think about what he’s about to do. Michael has some business to address with Don Owen, the owner of El Paso Wrestling and it’s something he’s been putting off for the last few days and it can’t be put off any longer. Michael finds Don in his office so he enters, closes the door and sits down across from Don and with butterflies in his stomach he begins to speak:

Michael: Don, there’s something I need to tell you and I don’t think you’re going to like it....

Don: Listen Michael I want to pay you more but you know right now El Paso Wrestling is struggling financially. When things smooth out and I can pay you your worth I will make it right with you I promise I’ve told you that you know I’m a man of my word and I really think in three months things will be better.

Michael: It’s not about money but hearing you say that doesn’t make it any easier...

Don: Then what?

Michael: OWA called and offered me a contract and I..

Don: Michael, I don’t mean to put this kind of pressure on you but I don’t think El Paso Wrestling will survive if you go. You’re our top draw and we’re already struggling. You’ve been like a son to me I need your help right now more than ever and if OWA is meant to happen there will be another opportunity when it can work for us both.

Michael: As hard as this is to tell you I have already signed the contract all that’s left is to fax it in.

Don: Let’s look at this from your perspective Michael. Guys your size don’t make it in OWA. Many have tried and failed.

Michael: There are plenty of guys 5’10” in OWA

Don: Yeah but they aren’t 185 pounds. Listen Michael this isn’t good for you or for me. In your words “this isn’t easy to tell you but” not only am I worried you’re not going to make it in OWA but I am also afraid if you leave and when you fail there will be no El Paso Wrestling to come back to. You’re the big fish here Michael I really think you should reconsider before you fax the contract in. A decision like this has consequences and they can’t be taken back.

Michael: I understand everything that you’re saying but there haven’t been any 185 pounders with the aggression that I bring to the ring. When I hear the crowd coming behind me I feel like a giant out there. As much as I appreciate what you’ve done for me you were here before me and I’m sure you will figure it out after me. OWA has been my dream since I was a kid growing up watching it on TV. I already got off to a late start in my career so I really don’t think I have time to waste so I’m sorry Don but I’m going.

Don: You’re really going to leave me at a time like this? You selfish bastard give me my damn championship belt back and don’t come back. I don’t ever want to see you again. After all I’ve done for you you’re going to leave me like this. Get the hell out of here!

Michael doesn’t say a word, places the now vacated El Paso Wrestling belt on the desk and walks out with his head down with mixed emotions - excited for his future but upset to lose a mentor and father figure. Although Michaels dad was present the most important things he learned in life were from Don and he can’t imagine moving forward without Don in his corner.

Michael gets into his 98 Chevy Tahoe and begins the drive home. This isn’t how it was supposed to happen. What could he have done different? Maybe he can fix it and keep Don in his corner as he pursues his dreams. Ten minutes into his drive home Michael decides to place a call to Don to see if he’s cooled down. After one ring the call goes to voicemail. Sadness now turns to anger at the thought of someone so important to Michael being so selfish. Someone acting like this doesn’t care about him.

A few minutes later while he’s still on the road he receives a text from OWA with an offer of a debut match - a 5 way match between Eon Blue, Jacob Nighttime, Noah Quinn, Curze, Gavin McArdle and himself. Michael has never been in a 5 way match before and it’s the first time in years he would not the biggest name on the card and wouldn’t be competing for a championship. “The Big Fish” would rarely be known by the audience and his opponents are also unknown to him unlike the roster of El Paso Wrestling that he faced many times. Considering his options Michael knew there was only one decision that he could possibly make. Although Michael had hoped Don would be in his corner it was not to be and the best thing Michael can do for himself is to take a fresh start and prove Don wrong and OWA will give him the opportunity he needs to do just that. Michael’s feelings now move from brokenness to anger and motivation. Michael sees a Staples Store that is open for another 20 minutes so he pulls in and rushes to the counter with his freshly signed contract.

Clerk: Welcome to Staples how can I help you?

Michael: Can you fax a document for me?

Clerk: Absolutely, what do you need to send?

Michael: I have a contract I need to send in but first do you have a pen I can use? I’d like to add a few notes before I send it.

The clerk hands Michael a pen and finds a blank spot on the contract and writes in the margin:

“Sometimes in life the pursuit of your dreams will cause friction. That friction can come between yourself, your closest friends and your family and in each situation there is a choice to be made. The choice is to sacrifice your dreams to keep those around you happy or to put yourself first, embrace the friction and push yourself to your limits to become your best. That is the choice I make today and unfortunately for Eon Blue, Jacob Nighttime, Noah Quinn, Curze and Gavin Ardle there is only one way that I know to cope with my emotions and that is by unleashing my aggression and causing pain. OWA I am coming and you will see the type of intensity and aggression that you never knew was possible and I will not stop until I prove my doubters wrong. To my first victims, it’s nothing personal but if you find it in yourself to show up for the 5 way match the damage I will inflict on you will have lasting consequences. Just as I made a choice you too have a choice to make and for my sake I hope you have the balls to show up and be the subject of my aggression. Just as I have sacrificed my closest friend to pursue my dream in OWA the next thing to be sacrificed will be your careers. See you at Olympus.”

Michael: It’s ready to fax ma’am.

The Staples clerk faxes the document to OWA and Michael leaves the store alone, the way it will be for now and drives off into the night.

All of my victims in this match can do nothing" but get put down" because When you mass with reaper you get reck" I reck people who talk too much so try me I will make you famous in that match"

To everybody in the match I'm coming for your souls but blues mainly but y'all can always join me in after life" it all was Ready for more. So come dance with the devil. It end quick fast we will go to war for gods  forever and ever. I'm coming to reck y'all. Souls. So. Try me I will make you famous. And it will end bad for you" so try me" bitch I'm break you" then he smiles at picture of them" blue" I will take you to after life with me" and nothing you can Doo about it. Because I'm reaper" and your the pray" plan and simple" bring it on. Big boy" it won't end good. For you.

Mr. Eon that would blue you think Daddy my experience won't beat yours on this Ring we go to war with me don't come back crate come back broken the most important beat destroy dismantled Al commission I don't care what your experience tells you you can't put down a truck like me cycle through you straight definition of yours can be counter my flatliner start playing to your heartbeat you can't go back when the referee count to hurry or you'll be over no by repair you anymore talking about your great you maybe a monster like me hi in the ordinary monster I break people in half and have a fun time doing it he says with a laught Then he Eyes go dark I'm the Devil Himself I think he has met I'm the monster in your dreams I'm the BOOGEYMAN I have been cursed to live blue but you are post cursed to die by my hand I am the reaper of All souls add more my collection by Aztec gods will be pleased by your sacrifice last sacrifice to the gods power no more mr. Nice guy no more copy cats like you just me blue we're going to war when one man walks out in the other workshop in the ambulance with their arm raised in victory  the only monster who can walk away with victory Is Me not you blue I'm walking out victory it won't end bye pinfall of submission stop it he's always answer though so you can take us to war blue I promise you I will make you famous in more ways than one to Bring it on Bring It On do not end well for you, but I'm making even more vicious in dark but my soul is corrupted already I lost mine now it's time to lose yours take you into Afterlife with me and making my henchman we can destroy everything so you can try and run but everyone dances with me Jacob the reaper I'm the sorcerer of owa I'm The Man of mystery I've conquered everything but not your soul the reason nobody's heard of me because they aren't here no more the hospital for they are or I ended their career because I want to tempt fate speak to me how about the end up paying the ultimate price their careers plain simple Can try your best I'm the best in the world I'm going to prove it to you at Olympus May the gods have mercy on both of us mainly on you Because I'm Hades of owa and I'm too take soul then he eyes blood slowly on floor and say I'm coming blue to fight and take you Out so bring it on it will not end you way it will end my way with you on ground or in a amulance I end people for a living plan and simple So bring it On and picture of blue show up and Jacob punch hand through it my two opponent who think they're good enough to beat be what's 3 or 4 aponise I'm taking all your souls I'm the reaper like I said I mean it y'all can hide y'all can run if one dance with the reaper reaper is me Jacob so bring Don't Bring Me down and you'll be over quick fast and quick I can come to my locker room and prove it or you can hack but every corner I'm there when you sleep I'm there yeah I handed it to that give you on your deathbed I'm there I'm the reaper Jacob I'm here to take your soul little by little your saw hoping you know Joy like I said blue I will make you famous and your little friend their try me the Benelli with retirement by my hands the gods will have a sacrifice out of nowhere going through hell with me friends coming to my own holiness powerful my kingdom will grow up with you as my  hitchman the same you both then Jacob slowly gets up the hit Locker and yells blue you mine and your soul reaper I'm a god in this ring. So blue come get some of me the reaper so I can Destroy both on you and whoever else is in the match then he smashes the table with his axe and laugh I'm not afraid of you but you should be afraid of me I will make you famous literally so try me it won't end good blue so bring it then he looks at the picture and eyes go  go black power is complete it mine all mine now let get stared then he take a soul from out of nowhere and eat hit and Jacob eyes light up of red and smiles I'm monster of owa not you I will destoty you" so try me all of you" then Jacob punch locker" and blood but does not feel it and keep going again and again" like robot none stop hitting Locker"

Olympus Promo 1: Change



(The camera opens on a destitute and deserted industrial park turned ghost town by the virus.  All machinery stands halted and silent, all the lights in the infrastructures surrounding the long stretch of road darkened.  The only sound heard besides wind passing through these barren and bog standard infrastructures is the sound of a rusted out shopping cart making it's way down the center lain of the empty strip.  A hooded figure limps behind the cart, staring down the dormant landscape made of energy plants, water treatment sights, and upturned soil.)

"I thought I would like this new world.  I did.  I thought it would upend the societal caste system and put the strong on top.  I thought it would rid the streets of the weak and feeble, leaving it free to reign for the scavengers and savvy survivors.  I thought it would leave spoils rife for the picking.  While true that some of that's came to fruition, I never expected the weak to band together in attempts to take on the strong, like aimless hives of zombies who don't know they're placing their dead and unwanted masses into the path of progress.  Nobody told them they were meant to stay in the ground.  Like a mindless horde they've consumed what the strong was meant to inherit.  Now it seems we have to fight harder than ever to attain the promise land.  I thought I was living the life of a survivor before, but now? it's even getting hard for a guy to wipe his ass without getting into a fist fight with droves of the weak willed."

(The hooded figure pushes his cart to one side and slowly lowers it's massive frame onto the curb.  Lifting his hood the Derelict reveals his battered visage to the world, exposing oozing knots on the top of his head and discolored bruises that almost pattern together into the shape of a strange hairline.  He takes in a belabored wheeze as his body rests on the curb, slouching and writhing beneath his tattered and ill-gotten duster.)

"I don't mind telling you that there's more than one thing making it hard for me to wipe my ass.  My ribs are bruised and potentially broken, my back is tenderized to the point of flesh turning black, and my head is starting to look like a cow's udder from all the rising knots.  It hurts to move...or even breathe.  I've coughed up blood a few times since Night 2.  Whose to blame? Well, if anyone can take sole responsibility it's that flying octogenarian Azumi Goto.  She was the only one with enough balls to attack me and deliver damage all on her lonesome.  It took three of you to put me through a table on the outside, four if you count the little lady pushing the table underneath me.  It took two of you to distract me while that coward Jonetta drove a ladder into us while we did our best Stooge routine.  It took two superkicks to chop me down, but I didn't stay there did I? and it took that lowly so and so Jonetta Stone another distraction to lay into me with those chair shots that currently tattoo my back and head with just the prettiest of designs.  It was only that ancient angel Azumi who flew down from the heavens and smashed me with a crossbody, only to lift me over her shoulders and drop me on the back of my neck.  She's a survivor, that's why she's made it through the gnawing masses of humanity and ignorance thus far."

(Derelict wipes his nose, cutting off a trickle of blood before it can pass the threshold of the nostrils.  He looks down at the crimson snail trail on his hand, before turning and wiping it into the astro turf short grass behind him.)

"And then there's Havoc.  Despite all of the talk of showing me you're a divine being heading into this match, I can't seem to recall a point in our encounters where your hand alone took hold of this broken husk of a body.  I know we're tagging together this week, and I know you managed to win the briefcase, but none of that really matters to me.  You've failed to impress me, Chris Sabertooth.  Hell, you ain't even worthy of that moniker.  Sabertooth is too strong for you, even if it's your birthright.  Chris, I'm still waiting for the invincible and omnipresent being to show up.  Now I wont fully discredit you. You took some damage, but you went nowhere near the circles of hell that I strolled through.  While you were stuck back at that fabled 7th level of Dante's Inferno, I was skating through the ninth frozen circle of treachery trying to level a field of backstabbers in order to come eye to eye with the devil himself.  I found you there, Chris.  You were among the ranks of Jonetta, Bishop, Knight, but you weren't the devil promised.  Where was he Chris?  Show me, because with the shape I'm in it's going to take a Faustian contract for either of us to walk out of this in one piece."


(Derelict trembles as the cold air hits his battered bald head.  He pulls his hood up and bundles his duster around him as he sternly watches on as his cart slowly starts to creak away.)

"Bull Connors was a man who could knock me on my ass when I was at pique health.  He's a man who fed me my words when I was strong enough to try and back them up.  Now? Now he's getting something much worse.  Now is when that survival instinct kicks in and possesses me with adrenaline and a 'whatever it takes' mentality that warrants gnawing a leg off if it means I can use it as a blunt object to put you away.  I'm desperate, Bull.  I'm human.  It took five other assholes wailing on me to prove it, but it's sunken in deeper than these swollen eyes or my concave chest.  If my attempted ascent to heaven and this outbreak has proven anything to me though it's that the human being is the most dangerous animal when motivated to survive.  We're living in a time where guns are being pulled over a can of beans, lives are being taken over two-ply, and hoarders are being raided for hand sanitizer.  The flesh might be weak Bull, but the spirit's desperate.  I'm kind of sad that you have to see what I'm going to stoop to just to survive you, and I wish I could give you the same fight I gave you before, but I'm in dire straits..even more so than usual.  Resources are depleting, my body isn't even at 50%, and there's a good chance that everything I've built for myself while climbing this big rock candy mountain, the first place I've ever felt I could truly call home in Olympus, may be on the verge of foreclosure and eviction.  I'm desperate, Bull.  God help you son. I'm desperate."

(Derelict spits a pink loogie onto the concrete beside him and shoots out a hand to stop his cart of meager belongings from rolling away. He uses the rusted out grocery cart to brace him back to his feet.  As he stiffly rises and tries to find his legs beneath him, the wind blows his duster aside momentarily to give the camera a peak at his overly taped ribs.  Steady, he begins heading down the street once more with the cart serving as his own personal walker.)

"As for Jeff X? I know people around here fear him.  I know that they see him as a strong and determined champion in waiting.  I know that they cower when he passes them in the parking lot on his custom built bike and unaffiliated kutte.  I see through it though.  He's just another hopeful and scared kid trying to put up a pretentious front of toughness.  So many souls like him that lack in self-awareness have been put in front of me before and I've cut them all down to the quick and left their career, hopes and, dreams dying in the streets for all to see.  Even now with stiff joints and swollen flesh I hold no fear for boys like Jeff X.  He's just some punk wannabe street rat who wouldn't know the rat king if it came rolling toward him flailing and screaming, looking to peel the flesh from his skull.  He'll know him soon enough though.  Then again, maybe he wont get to meet his majesty just yet.  Maybe I'll let the other self-absorbed boy playing tough guy for Halloween take care of my light work.  Jeff and Chris...hnh...no wonder you two overcompensate with edgelord surnames.   You're just two boys from down the road looking to get into a scrap after school.  I'll let you two slap fight while real men like Bull and myself try to kill each other, along with everyone that tries to get in our way.  I've lost a lot in 2020.  I lost my Openweight ticket to ride, my blood, my sweat, and a society worth torturing for it's sins.  Something has taken that all away from me, and soon it'll probably take Olympus from me too.  Call it karma, call it god, or call it the universe trying to regain balance, but when it's all said and done it's clear that whatever it is has a vendetta against me.  Now that's a damn shame for everyone placed around me because for my whole wicked existence I've lashed out against those that oppress me, so I'll give fair warning at the front of this rampage of mine: If you happen to be a part of this universe that I inhabit, you'll soon feel my wrath.  Make no mistake in knowing that I enter this match alone with nothing to prove and nothing to lose.  Nothing's changed since day one.  The only thing that's evolved, changed, or grown about me since putting my signature on an OWA contract  is the rage that bore down on that dotted line as I signed away your collective leases on life.  Demons don't drive me.  Being toughest doesn't drive me.  Being the next big thing doesn't drive me.  Hate has always taken the wheel.  You thought I was bad before Bull? Well since we last met I've been denied my two tickets to paradise and robbed of salvation by the very man I tag with at what could be my very last stand atop Mount Olympus.  You thought the guy you met before was the fight of your life?  Wait'll you get a load of me."

(Derelict chuckles under his breath as he starts to hobble down the road behind his scrap heap of a shopping cart.  As he starts making his way toward the smog stained sunset of the industrial park, a boisterous voice begins to echo off of the unremarkable walls of the park.  Derelict's head snaps around in search of the loud and lonely voice, before his eyes finally dart to the top of a nearby water tower where they find the familiar sight of the cheap and gaudy figure of Saul Abzu holding sermon over a familiar congregation of zero.)

To Be Continued...

(The scene opens up to Roni sitting on a set of stairs in the backyard of her house in Detroit. She is shown with her head down and is wearing her normal attire, and in her hands is her battle vest that she wore during Season II of Odyssey. Roni looks up towards the camera she had set up, and the look on her face is one that looks at peace)

What a match, wouldn’t you say? All four of us put our all into it and gave the fans exactly what they wanted. It was an amazing match and honestly, I couldn’t be happier with the results. I know, that sounds weird coming from me especially since I was bashing Alyssa, April, and Llorona, but I am serious. Alyssa had that match scouted and figured right from the get-go and you know what she had to do to win. I wasn’t in my right mind and I let blind rage get the best of me. For doing so, I lost. As I was walking back towards the locker room I couldn’t help, but to turn around and look at Alyssa celebrating and the fans cheering and everything that made that moment beautiful. As I was in the back, packing my things up and changing clothes to leave, I couldn’t help to smile and let out a small snicker. I don’t know what came over me, but it felt great. It felt as though this giant pain had been lifted from me and it seemed like all my hate, bitterness, and anger just left me. Then, it hit me as I was driving back home. I understood why I was glad for Alyssa and I understood why I felt this way. I had become consumed by hate and anger and everything else. I felt as though the world was against me...when really it was telling me to wake the fuck up and open your eyes, and that is exactly what that match did. I can’t express how grateful I am for those women for pushing me to my absolute end, but I am grateful for it. As for April, I have no beef with no more. If for some reason we fight again, then I will be honored to do so and if I lose then...well I guess the better person finally won. As for Alyssa, I hope your reign is great and that the challenge you face coming forward helps that Fiery Spirit of yours burn so bright that people can see from space.

(Roni holds up her Battle Jacket by the arms)

This jacket right here has been with me since I first tried out for Odyssey way back ago. I bought it from a thrift shop for ten dollars and if this jacket could talk...well it could probably do a lot better job then I can.

(Roni lets out a short laugh)

Seriously, though every stain, mark, and patch on here has a story to tell and tells it better than I ever could, nonetheless there is a reason I am not wearing it. You see everyone knows I have had ups and downs through my first full year in Odyssey and this jacket was right there with me through the bad and the good, but there is something that needs to be done. They say that holding on the past can ruin you and hold you back, and after everything I have been through I can believe it as I am proof of it. So I have come to terms with letting go of the past and now I must move forward and because of that, I have made a decision on something very important.

(Roni throws the jacket over her shoulder as she grabs her camera and tripod and potions it in front of a barrel)

As much as I love this jacket, I have to let it go and I have to break my bonds with it.

(Roni proceeds to throw the jacket into the barrel and grabs a bottle of lighter fuel just off to the side of the barrel and begins dosing the entire inside of the barrel with it. Roni soon takes a matchbox from her pocket and strikes a match before throwing it into the barrel causing a huge fire to appear)

They say fire can both destroy life and bring new life into it just like the Phoenix of legend, and I can believe that. For as that jacket is burning, everything old is gone from me and I have set myself free in a manner of speaking. Now, don’t be fooled I am not going to be some goody two shoes, but I am not going to be that pissed off at everyone either. I will be in the middle. Will I still take a steel chair to someone’s back because I feel like it? Yes. Will I do it because I threw a fit like a five-year-old child? No. Will I still be loud and in your face? Ab-so-fucking-lute-ly as that is just me by nature. I would go on, but you know I am not one for cliches. Though I do have two final messages. The first being that starting in Season III of Odyssey I will refuse to be in any title scene for one whole year, and I mean it. Now hold onto all you gasp and shocks hear me out. The reason for this is because there are other women who deserve those more than me because they know who they are and what they are. I mean, Eris still has the cup, Christie is a hell of a wrestler, Azumi and Jonetta are great in their rights, and after reflecting on the journey I felt like I robbed them of several opportunities. I mean, hell I did that to Alyssa and Llorona and look how that turned out for me and them as well as there are a few wrestlers that I have had my eye on that I think will be a good match up.

(Roni looks at the fire before turning back around)

Oh yeah, the second thing is that Roni Ozborn is dead. She is burning in that barrel along with all my old memories and hate. I needed something new...something fitting...and after some thinking, I have a new name, but that is for me to know for you to find out soon enough. So with all that said and everything, I will bid you goodbye, good luck, and a goodnight.

(The camera quicks fades to black as we end)

 
“Actually…”
 
“I think I’ve changed my mind.”
 
“I do have plenty more to say, after all.”
 
“I’m afraid that you won't be having the last word, Jeff. I think that you’ve already had plenty of opportunities to run your mouth and fool everybody into believing that you’re actually going to leave Final Destination 2 as the Omega Heavyweight Champion. So, allow me to put all of these rumors to bed and remind you… just who the fuck you’re dealing with.”
 
“From the exact moment that our match was scheduled for Final Destination, you’ve constantly had this… dismissive and casual attitude, like you’re going out for a fucking walk or some shit, or like it’s just going to be an ordinary day at work for you. Now, all of a fucking sudden… you’ve finally started to view our match as more than just “another day at work” by realizing that you’re actually… not much of a comedian, and that you’ve got everything to lose if you’re unable to win my championship. So, tell me, where’s all of that confidence now? What happened to it, Jeff? You’re so used to talking and running your fucking mouth, now you’re unwilling to hear any of my response? You’re not interested in hearing what I’ve got to say, Jeff? I can’t say that I’m shocked, but I’m certainly disappointed. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve always had a suspicion that you were nothing but a punk-ass bitch, but I honestly didn’t think that you’d be so… completely shameless about it. You see, what you’ve just done is prove that you’re perfectly willing to insult me as many times as you’d like… but when I’ve got a chance to respond, you choose to ignore it and act like I’m not even worth your time. It’s absolutely pathetic.”
 
“Do you think that you’re “above” me, Jeff? Do you think that I’m not even worthy of your time? Is that why you’re acting like such a self-absorbed, utterly insufferable cunt? I remember, just a few days ago, you thought my anger towards you… was so hilarious. Now, you’re the one who’s ranting about how I mean “absolutely nothing“ and that you’re so “deserving” of this opportunity. It’s always about you, Jeff. I can’t believe that I didn’t notice it earlier. Whenever I hear you speak, it’s always about you and how you’re so fucking amazing, compared to everybody else in this company. I’ve had to constantly hear you brag about how you’re such a bad-ass, how you’ve worked harder than everyone, and how you’ve been “quietly” doing your job and earning all of your opportunities… even though you’re clearly demonstrating that you can’t shut the fuck up about it. Honestly, I can’t understand how anybody is capable of tolerating your incessant whining, without instantly reaching for the nearest sharp object. I don’t know if you’re aware of this, but you aren’t special. There’s plenty of people in this company who haven’t received as many opportunities as they’d like to, despite all of their talent or ability, despite all of the work that they’re putting in. I’m so tired of hearing you talk about how you’re so underappreciated, and that you had to “earn” all of your opportunities… just like everybody else in this company. “
 
“It’s genuinely amazing. You’re trying to claim that I’ve created a fantasy of being an unstoppable force in my own head, while you’re simultaneously creating a fantasy of being an unstoppable force in your own fucking head. Holy shit, I seriously can’t believe that there’s an actual person that is… so completely lacking in any kind of self-awareness.”
 
“Do you think that a win-loss record, or a desire to win is any kind of indication that you’re capable of beating me? Am I supposed to think that your stint as a prisoner is any kind of guarantee for your success? You can struggle as much as you’d like, you can fight as much as you’d like, and you can work as much as you’d like… but you fail to realize that nothing is absolutely certain. I’m not particularly interested in how much you’ve struggled or fought, Jeff. As far as I’m concerned, that doesn’t mean a fucking thing. Plenty of people can’t do anything but struggle and fight for their lives. For them, there is no other way, there’s no escape or reprieve from it… the only thing that they can do is to try and climb their way out of the abyss. That’s what you’re hoping is going to happen at Final Destination, isn’t it?”
 
“All of your insults, all of that confidence, all of this talking about how I’m not good enough. Now you’re trying to pretend that you’re some kind of a cold-blooded killer? I’m starting to realize that you weren’t trying to say those things… with the explicit purpose of hurting my feelings or pissing me off, although you certainly wouldn’t mind if that happened. You aren’t trying to convince me that I’m unable to win, I realize now that you’re trying to convince yourself that you’re able to win.”
 
“You continue to reference a single moment in my career, when I lost my Omega Heavyweight Championship to Gareth. You view it as a defining moment in my career, when I demonstrated that I was completely unable to cope with success. Meanwhile, you choose to ignore both of my victories against exceptional wrestlers like Tarah Nova or Nate Cage. Then again, I suppose that you’d view it as inconvenient, if you actually had to acknowledge my ability or skill.”
 
“Do you really think that I’m just another calf that’s ready to be slaughtered, Jeff? Do you believe that I’m afraid of you? Go ahead, show the entire world that you’re just as much of a bad-ass killer as you claim to be. You’ll just end up in the same spot that I’m in. Everybody’s going to find out… what I’ve already known, that you’re an absolute fraud.”
 
“You’re not a hero, and you’re not a bad-ass.”
 
“You’re a scumbag… just like me.”
 
“You’re lost and afraid.”
 
“You’re a deeply damaged man.”
 
“I was never jealous of you, Jeff.”
 
“I pity you.”
 
“I can’t possibly begin to understand the pain that bubbles under your skin.”
 
“At this point, it doesn’t matter if you win my championship or not.”
 
“You’re so desperate to win, and so desperate to fulfill your need for a purpose.”
 
“You’ve slipped back into becoming a mindless, violent killer. The same one who spent 3,650 days of his life in a prison.”
 
“You never did change, did you?”

"This isn't the start of your redemption."

"It's the start of your eternal damnation."

 
“Jeff, why do you keep doing this to yourself?”
 
“You could’ve just kept your mouth shut and be done with it, then I wouldn’t have to hear a bit more of the foul-smelling diarrhea that continues to spill out of the toilet that’s sitting directly under your nose. I don’t appreciate your attempt to continue stinking up the goddamn place with your stupidity and ignorance, and I certainly don’t need any of your help in trying to make you look like a fucking fool. I’m perfectly capable of doing that by myself, I assure you. Although, I am sincerely appreciative of your willingness to try and give me a bunch of extra material to work with, even if it’s complete and utter nonsense. I’ll be honest, I didn’t think that you’d actually have the balls to speak up again, especially when I’ve already taken such an enormous shit in your mouth.”
 
“Then again, you’re really not the kind of person who’d ever keep their mouth shut, are you? Even if you’d probably benefit from doing so, you’ve got so much pride that you can’t even shut the fuck up and actually listen to anything that I said, can you? As a result, you decide to respond by sticking to the classic approach of ignoring any legitimate criticism that I offered, and repeating much of the same… fucking… crap… that I’ve already had to hear from your dumb-ass. It’s a fucking joke. You can’t even come up with a legitimate criticism of me, can you? It’s always about my fucking weight, isn’t it? You can’t even think of anything that’s actually important or relevant to say, so you’re just going to waste my time and continue to make as many jokes about my weight as you possibly can. Seriously, I don’t understand what you’re trying to accomplish by doing this. If you think that you’re being funny or clever, then you’ve failed on an absolutely catastrophic level. If you’re trying to piss me off, then you’ve failed at managing to accomplish that too, because I really don’t give a fuck if you think that I’m fat. I’m not going to fall onto my knees and cry, or go into a blind rage… simply because of the fact that somebody’s had the “audacity” to make a bunch of low-effort jokes about my weight. Especially when that person is an absolute fucking child like you, Jeff.”
 
“That’s one of the many reasons that I’m so fucking mad, that I’m so fucking INFURIATED. Everybody’s placed their bets on you, everybody’s been saying that you’re going to beat me and claim this championship, everybody’s been hyping you up… as the next “face” of the Omega Wrestling Alliance. Which is unfortunate, because… the only thing that I see… is a man who’s completely incapable of owning up to his mistakes. You’re constantly trying to convince yourself that I’m desperately afraid of you, and that I’m terrified of losing my championship to you. Guess what? I’m actually… not afraid of losing my championship, and I’m not afraid of losing to you, as much as I find that to be an absolutely disgusting thought. Do you know why, Jeff? Unlike you, or anybody else in this company, I’ve got plenty of connections. I won’t need to wait, I won’t need to wrestle anybody who isn’t worth my time, and I certainly won’t need to “steal” an opportunity to reclaim my championship… when it can just be given to me. I don’t need to do a fucking thing. I’ll get a rematch with you, successfully beat you for the championship, and celebrate another win. Meanwhile, you’ll be sitting on your recliner, and crying to the sounds of Carrie Underwood as you drink yourself into an early grave by consuming the entirety of your liquor cabinet.”
 
“Either way, I fucking win.”
 
“Also, is that really the best that you can do? Everything that I said, all of the insults, and every single one of the criticisms that I’ve laid at your feet, and the only thing… that you got from any of it… was that I’m jealous of you? I can’t even comprehend such a ludicrous idea, nor can I comprehend the idea that you’re actually retarded enough to believe that. Why would I be jealous of a man who has so little? I didn’t need to become a professional wrestler, and I didn’t need to constantly put my body on the fucking line to make a living. I could’ve been plenty of things, but I chose to be a professional wrestler. You needed to become a professional wrestler, just like you need to win this championship. Don’t try to lie and say that you could’ve stuck to your job as a construction worker, because that’s a bunch of absolute bullshit. If there’s anything that I genuinely do respect about you, Jeff? It’s your passion as a professional wrestler. You see, when I look into your eyes, I can tell… that you would NEVER be satisfied with any other job that wasn’t being a professional wrestler. Winning a world championship is more than your dream, it’s your fucking salvation. I think that you’re painfully aware of the fact that if you weren’t in OWA, you’d be absolutely nothing. It’s the reason why there is an abundance of people who support you, and want you to take this championship away from me. You’re a man who made an honest mistake and was forced to climb his way up… from the absolute bottom, and managed to make himself into something.”
 
“I don’t give a shit about how much of a “man” that you are, trust me, I wasn’t making fun of you because I’m so jealous of your “intense manliness” or some other bullshit. However, I won’t deny that I’m still bitter about the way that I was treated by the fans. I can’t help but feel like… I didn’t have to be here, and that I don’t have to be the way that I am… but a simple mistake that I made… forced me into the situation that I’m currently in. I didn’t want to be here, but it’s where I am.”
 
“I don’t know.”
 
“The only that that I'm truly certain of, is that I want to be a world champion, and that I'm going to do my fucking best to leave Final Destination as the Omega Heavyweight Champion."

"That's all, I've got nothing else to say."

(Scott Oasis is seen on IG Live, smoking a cigar and drinking Brandy with his wife Jasmine by his side. On the other side of him is his Big Oasis Boombox. As Jasmine holds up the camera, Oasis looks into it, smiles, and pulls out a casette from his hoodie pocket before putting it in.)

[Chorus]
R.O.C., we runnin' this rap shit
B. Sigel, we running this rap shit
M Easy, we runnin' this rap shit
Get zipped up in plastic; when it happens, that's it
O & Sparks, we runnin' this rap shit
Freeway, we runnin' this rap shit
Chris & Neef, we runnin' this rap shit
("Watch out! We run New York")


"I know you miss it Nas the (fame)

But along with celebrity comes 'bout 70 shots to your frame
Nigga, you a (lame)
You's the fag model for Karl Kani, Esco ads
Went from Nasty Nas to Esco's trash
Had a spark when you started, but now you're just garbage
Fell from top 10 to not mentioned at all
To your bodyguard's Oochie Wally's verse better than yours
Matter of fact, you had the worst flow on the whole fuckin' song
But I know: the sun don't shine, then son don't shine
That's why your (lame) career's come to an end
It's only so long fake thugs can pretend
Nigga, you ain't live it, you witnessed it from your folks' pad
You scribbled it in your notepad and created your life
I showed you your first TEC on tour with Large Professor
Then I heard your album about your TEC on the dresser
So yeah, I sampled your voice, you was usin' it wrong
You made it a hot line, I made it a hot song
And you ain't get a coin, nigga, you was gettin' fucked then
I know who I paid, God – Serchlite publishin'
Use your (brain) – you said you've been in this 10
I've been in it five; smarten up, Nas!
Four albums in 10 years, nigga? I could divide
That's one every… let's say two, two of them shits was doo
One was "nah," the other was Illmatic
That's a one-hot-album-every-10-year average
And that's so (lame)
Nigga, switch up your flow, your shit is garbage
What you tryin' to kick, knowledge?
You niggas gonna learn to respect the king
Don't be the next contestant on that Summer Jam screen
Because you-know-who did you-know-what
With you-know-who, but let's keep that between me and you"


[Chorus]
R.O.C., we runnin' this rap shit
M Easy, we runnin' this rap shit
The Broad Street Bully, we runnin' this rap shit
Get zipped up in plastic; when it happens, that's it
Freeway, we runnin' this rap shit
O & Sparks, we runnin' this rap shit
Chris & Neef, we runnin' this rap shit
("Watch out! We run New York")


"A wise man told me don't argue with fools

‘Cause people from a distance can't tell who is who
So stop with that childish shit, nigga, I'm grown
Please leave it alone, don't throw rocks at the throne
Do not bark up that tree, that tree will fall on you
I don't know why your advisers ain't forewarn you
Please, not Jay, he's not for play
I don't slack a minute, all that thug rappin' and gimmicks
I will end it, all that yappin' be finished
You are not deep, you made your bed, now sleep
Don't make me expose you to them folks that don't know you
Nigga, I know you well, all the stolen jew-els
Twinkletoes, you're breakin' my heart
You can't fuck with me; go play somewhere, I'm busy
And all you other cats throwin' shots at Jigga
You only get half a bar – fuck y'all niggas!"

Scott Oasis: AWWWWWWWWW!!! THERE WE GO!

(Scott Oasis, who has been bobbing his head along to the music, finally stops the Big Oasis Boombox. Him and Jasmine smile to each other as she turns off the Live.)

“Lights On” said a familiar voice as the scene got dimly illuminated by a bulb dangling from the ceiling as it flickered back on. Standing underneath it is Havoc in all wrestling gear, with his hands spread across as if he were to embrace somebody. He slowly opens his eyes and stares right into the camera with a piercing gaze. 

“Lights Off” He said, snapping his fingers, as the lights switch off to his command. You can hear a soft chuckle in the darkness, for who knows what it holds.

“Lights On” As the lights come back on, Jada Blaire is standing next to Havoc with a barbed wire baseball bat and a sinister smirk to boot.

“This world that we live in built up on a foundation of lies. Ever since you’re a little impressionable kid, you’re force fed lies that want you to be a ‘law abiding’ citizen of this country. They are told that hard work has no replacement. They are told that if you want to succeed in life, you just have to put your mind to something and give it your all and success will follow. That’s a load of bullshit! How many of us in the world can actually say that they’re happy with where they are in life? Only the top percent-- Rest of the world wants to be them. They either give up or die trying. So, what is the reason for their failure? Is it that they didn’t try hard enough? WRONG. You see, people who get entangled in the bullshit that you’re fed early on would never be able to make it out of it. All the people that have ever succeeded in life have done something that they can’t tell anybody. Nobody gets to that position solely through hard work. Azumi Goto, Jonetta Stone. These two are prime examples of that. They say that they desperately want this briefcase. They have worked THEIR ENTIRE LIFE to be something in this business. While Jonetta has the Wrestling Grotto, Azumi paved her own path to become the star that she is today. But was it as simple as she says it is? Was it as clean cut as they make it out to be? Azumi Goto and her relationship with Stephanie Matsuda is something to look into. Their past. What Azumi did for JET…. What she didn’t do for JET when she left the company when it needed her the most. I am sure she had her reasons and I do not doubt that the success that Azumi Goto garnered all around the world made it all worth it at the end of the day. But Goto isn’t shy of taking selfish decisions to take her own career to newer heights. After all, the Ascension to the Heaven’s match is nothing but a stepping stone for Azumi Goto to reclaim her position as the top champion of Odyssey. So, is it about the sisterhood? Am I to believe that you wouldn’t backstab Jonetta in a heartbeat to get something that you desperately want. You want to taste the success again and you JUST CANNOT DO IT. And sure, getting up again and again adds to your character but with every loss, you lose a piece of yourself that you will NEVER be able to recover. Look at me! One moment, Christopher Sabertooth was the top prospect this company had to offer...And he’s nowhere to be found anymore. Piece by piece he lost himself and without a doubt in my mind, Azumi you are losing yourself too. You cannot put up an act and pretend everything is going to be alright BECAUSE IT NEVER IS! Azumi Goto is a BROKEN fighter. All she needs--- is one bad day. At Final Destination, she is due to have a nightmare that will change her life forever. LIGHTS OFF!” He screamed, once again snapping his fingers that is followed by complete darkness.


‘Lights On!” Exclaimed Havoc as the lights come back up to reveal a horrifying sight. Standing next to Havoc and Jada is now another member of Havoc’s ‘family’ holding on to a spike piercing through a severed head of somebody who looks awfully similar to Azumi Goto. As blood drips down the metal spike, Havoc smirks with devil’s intent. 

“A beautiful sight, isn’t it? I am sure Jonetta can agree with that. After all, she is an assassin and I’m her prey. Jonetta, it may seem like staying in OWA was your choice-- But the fact is, your sisters dipped the moment Dollhouse lost the Openweight Tag Titles. They dipped the moment they tasted defeat and I am sure they blame this place for it and not their own shortcomings and so do you. What do you say? You’ll stand on top of your Ivory tower and shoot me down with your sniper. Although I appreciate that metaphor and I do draw parallels to the fate of the names I had mentioned like Martin Luther King Jr. and Gandhi… They were assassinated too. And guess what happened because of it? They were immortalized in history. So, go ahead! TAKE THAT SHOT! But the thing you forget is that I am WAY OUT of your sights. I’ll be gone before you even think about it-- So, get ahead of the curb Jonetta. Finish me while you have the chance, at Final Destination. Starch me up! Whatever you do Jonetta, watch out for the lights. Cause one second is all I need to destroy you. And before you know it, you will be joining your sisters as a failure. Let’s face it, that’s what you guys do. Quit. Roxy quit WWH . She quit OWA. That’s all you’re capable of. You talk a big game and one defeat is all it takes to turn you away from your goals. You haven’t had that big loss yet have you, Jonetta? Well that changes at Final Destination. So Jonetta…. How can you kill something that you cannot see?” He said with a devilish smirk before snapping his fingers causing the lights to switch off again. 


“Lights on…” He whispered as another follower of Havoc stood beside him with a severed head that resembled Jonetta Stone, placed inside a bird cage. 

“Speaking of Cage, Michael Bishop comes to mind. We haven’t heard a lot from Michael leading up to the match but that is to be expected from a no nonsense warrior like him…. I’ll ignore his Twitter activity for his sake. Michael really made a big deal out of his return at Clash of the Titans but the spark has already run out. People cared about the guy for all of 5 minutes and now he will once again be relegated into being part of somebody else’s story. Because this one my friend, is MY story. You are always the backup-- The man you can count on to even the odds. Michael, you’re not making your own stories. You had a shot at Clash of the Titans to finally amount to something Rev… But what did you do with it? Sure, you were overly active for a week or two and you sure did put me through the ringer in our matchup. But this is how far you’ll go with your complacency. I already told you that you lack that drive-- The killer instinct that you once had as a MMA fighter. It’s all gone now! That injury made you SOFT! You’re not READY for this fight, Michael. If you were, you wouldn’t have been as quiet as you are now! YOU TALKED A BIG GAME FOR SO FUCKING LONG AND WHEN IT CAME DOWN TO THE ACTUAL FIGHT-- YOU SHUT YOUR TRAP AND VANISHED FROM FUCKING EXISTENCE. IS THAT THE FIRE YOU WERE TALKING ABOUT? IS THAT THE FUCKING DESPERATION YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO SHOW?! You’re just like the rest, aren’t you? Here I thought that I found somebody with a drive similar to mine-- But you just want that paycheck. You’re pathetic, Bishop. You will never be a World Champion in OWA or ANYWHERE for that matter. You know why, Bishop? Because you’re just like HIM. You’re just like Sabertooth. You talk a lot-- But when it comes down to the big moment, you choke… You fail… You BUCKLE under the pressure. And you will fail-- yet again.” He said with a disappointed look in his eyes. He shook his head before taking control over the lights yet again. A snap is heard and the lights turn back on to reveal a man that looks similar to Michael Bishop, cut open, laying under the feet of Havoc. 


“People just can’t live up to their hype, can they? Whilst everybody was banging on about Bishop’s return, Jacob Knight was making rounds for his impressive debut. Not only did he make a quick impression on the management, he even got himself an opportunity of a lifetime. I know that you’re against management running circles around talents but I am sure you can appreciate Donny Diamond for giving you an opportunity you hadn’t earned yet. Jonetta has been a champ in OWA before. So has Derelict. Azumi Goto can’t stop talking about her solitary World Title reign and Michael Bishop has the tenure to back it up. So, what was it about you that got Donny’s attention? Most people make an effort to leave a good first impression on their debut… What set you apart? I am not sure if YOU know the answer to that, Jacob. You’re just glad to be a part of this match, aren’t ya? People have been calling YOU the Dark Horse of this match because they don’t know what you’re capable of. But I know EXACTLY what you can do. I have seen your work in WWH. I have seen you try to make a positive change in this society. So, I did respect you for a while. Until I realized that you do what you do for social media attention. You just want the likes on Twitter, don’t ya? You’re after the attention that you get from being ‘woke’ and not the result. Jacob Knight can throw out challenges-- until I see those challenges come to fruition, I do not see you as the savior that you claim to be. When you put me down for a similar reason-- I think you were just projecting your insecurities onto me for closure. Jacob-- If Michael Bishop is a wasted opportunity, you’re a waste of human space. I will take care of that though! I’m lucky to have an opportunity of beating you into submission until you understand your position in this company. And trust me, you’re NEVER getting past me. Not in WWH. Not in OWA. Not in life. This is what a messiah looks like! Breathe it in, while you can. You might not have that opportunity after Final Destination… Take this as a warning, Jacob. You called me the Pretender? The only pretending I do is to believe that you have a personality. Or a shot at winning the Briefcase. Forget about it… The quicker you do that, the better. Cause you may never know what happens…. when the lights go shut.” Just as he completed the sentence, the lights go out and complete silence follows. Moments later, it turns back on to reveal a man wearing a bloodied #CTS T-Shirt with a frown painted on his face.

“And as for Derelict? I do not care about what that hobo thinks about me. That’s a life he chose. You’re telling me, after all the championship bonuses he got for being the Openweight Champion, he still cannot afford a place to live? It’s HIS choice! Maybe at some point it wasn’t but I am not buying his bullshit. The pain and suffering he talks about? Tell me about it! I am all ears! Maybe Derelict, you can stop fabricating every single aspect of your story and I might give a shit. Sure, you’re a big man. Sure, you’ve been a dominant champion in OWA before. But Derelict, Kevin Maverick has proven that you’re not as unstoppable as you seemed. Your whole identity is falling apart, Derelict. The title might not have made you who you were but it sure did give you a reason. And while this briefcase can give you everything that you lost and then some, it is not enough to fill the void inside of you. You’re hollow from the inside. A fraud. World Politics was never my thing, Derelict. I didn’t choose to walk down this path. IT CHOSE ME. The pain and the suffering that came along with this choice wasn’t easy. And despite your words, it is certainly something I wouldn’t wish upon anybody…. Until I became complete. I FOUND my identity. I FOUND my purpose in life. And I CHOSE to dedicate it to the people around me. People who need help. So, am I the villain that you and everybody else is painting me out to be. Or the self-centered runts that want to RUIN this all for me and my people are the TRUE monsters. The darkness around me isn’t a metaphor for my sins-- It is a beacon of hope. It hides away all of your insecurities and amongst this darkness, you feel STRONGER than you have ever felt before! I didn’t choose to paint my face-- YOU PEOPLE made me do it. And I turned it around on you by making my face as a sign of change. Change that is coming your way. Derelict, at Final Destination… The darkness will consume you. And maybe THEN, you will reveal your true self to this world. Until then, you will NEVER be good enough to stop the Harbinger of Reality!” He exclaimed as Jada breaks into laughter. Everybody around Havoc follows suit as he blankly stares into the camera lens. The lights flicker back on to reveal a bloody bindle in Havoc’s hands.


“Why? Because all it takes is one second. One moment, you’re at the top of the world… AND SNAP.” The lights go out for one final time as demonic laughter can be heard to end the scene.

Bitch, I'm silly
Up the chopper, shoot your shit up, let's get busy
Drinkin' Henny, goin' brazy, poppin' pillies
Sex Money Murda, shout out all my blazing Billies (all my Billies)
We in yo' city (We in yo'-)
Shout out my apes in the fuckin' zoo (Filayo)
Filayo, they gon' shoot
Spin a hoop, who the fuck is you?
Who the fuck you know, simp? No, simp
Muhammad’s goons killed your cousin, you want smoke, simp? (stupid)
Glo simp, rollin' up your cousin in a blunt, simp
Bozo, bitch are you dumb-d-dumb-dumb-dumb-d-dumb-dumb-dumb? (stupid)
Bitch, I'm Nick Cannon with this drum-dr-drum-drum-drum (brra-pum-pum)
Pull up with semis, no Lil Pump-pr-ump-pump-pumps (no esskeetit)
We goin' dumb-d-dumb-dumb-dumb-d-dumb-dumb-dumb
Bitch I'm stupid, bitch I'm dumb
I be tweakin', I be wildin', I be booted (bitch I be drunk)
I be stealin', I be robbin', I be lootin' (you don't wanna die)
Your boyfriend dumb, he get no money, bitch, he stupid
Oh, bitch, he, oh, bitch, he stupid
Damn, homie, in high school you was the man, homie (2012)
What the fuck happened to you? (stoopid)
I'm just sayin', homie
Now you smokin' Black & Milds, smokin' Reds, homie
Ah, ah, ah, what's up?
Jamal on the motherfuckin' east side simp
Fi0r@ what's poppin' cuz?
Tell him shut up, suck a dick
Tell him fuck him, I'm the shit
Bitch, I'm drunk recording this
I'm getting money, I'm the shit
Shout out my Bloods, shout out my Crips
That simp Keelan, he a bitch
Just another old efedder on a young Maddie dick
Bitch I'm lit on the Gram, a million likes, you see my shit
Your bitch DM for the dick
But I probably wouldn't hit
VVS, Cuban hit
Shout out Sabertooth for the drip
Your baby daddy mixtape wasn't shit, he a bitch
Free Jamal, free Shaker, free Caspian, free the 9
Shout out Oasis, shout out Keelan, Jeff X, those my guys
FOA they gon' ride, GS9 they gon' slide
When I woo, woo back, ah-ah-ahh, those my guys
She give me neck until I burst out
She give me teeth, she get cursed out
And all these suckers with they fucking feelings
Always got these bitches with they purse out
We on the block, put the bird out
I count bricks put the word out
You know you like a milkman Shmoney Dance
You gon' love a milkman when I swerve out
Bitch, I'm silly
Up the chopper, shoot your shit up, let's get busy
Drinkin' Henny, goin' brazy, poppin' pillies
Sex Money Murda, shout out all my blazing Billies (all my Billies)
We in yo' city
Hold up, hold up, hold up, gang
Run that shit back

Place: Jersey City, NJ
Time: December 21st, 2017
6:30 pm EST
Location: Dante’s

Stephanie walked into the Filipino restaurant with an eyebrow raised. Dante’s wasn’t usually empty on a Thursday, but slow days were common on the coldest of days with any establishment. It was a 40-minute drive from Bushwick, a perfect midpoint for her and the woman she was about to meet. The family of a friend from college ran the establishment, and back in the day, they used to frequent the place - especially since they didn’t have to pay. She didn’t recognize any of the staff, which made sense since Vanessa and her parents were in The Philippines for the holidays. Matsuda took off her coat and stared out the window. She and this specific person she was meeting had quite the history. Things were a bit rocky between them for the past two years, but as of late, they felt it was time to bury the hatchet. Matsuda had enough things on her mind. As she glanced at the entrance, a familiar face walked in. Stephanie smiled as the woman known as Tarah Nova sat down. 

“So, you actually made it,” Stephanie said with a smile.

Tarah nodded as she took off her coat. “You said you wanted to talk.”

“I do. I’m sure you were looking to do the same.”   

“I was. I’ve been thinking a lot about things and well, I don’t hate certain people the way I used to.”

Stephanie let out a chuckle.

“Same here. I guess a talk is in order., then.”

“Ye.”


“I don’t know if there’s anything left for me to say. I know that sounds weird coming from someone who loves to speak her mind, but it’s the truth. Two years ago we decided to put the past behind us and you switched brands while I remained in the women’s division I would eventually go on to inherit from my “other best friend.” If you would’ve told  2016 Stephanie “Aquaman” Matsuda that she would become best friends with Tarah Nova, she would laugh in your face and punch it right after for even insinuating such a thing is possible. At that time there was nobody I hated more than her. And that hatred cost me my friends, my Specialist Championship, and most of all...the love of my life at that time. It sent me on a downward spiral and into the arms of a monster. The further I sank the more I blamed her and eventually, I became the very thing I never wanted to be - a mindless beast who thrived off the pain of others. Eventually, I couldn’t take it more and despite being on the winning team in th\at elimination tag match at the end of 2016, something inside of me felt hollow. And then I realized that it was because Tarah wasn’t to blame for my hate...it was myself. I alone was responsible for my actions. This was the first step to forgiveness. This was the first step to becoming your friend. We weren’t there yet, but time heals all wounds right? Well, at least most wounds…”

Stephanie sighs to herself.

“I don’t need to explain my actions. You know damn well why I’m doing this. The legacy of Tarah Nova needs a climactic ending. I issued my challenge to ensure that give that audience one last amazing match. You’re one of the best to do it, and I’m the only one that can bring the absolute best out of you. We both know what it means to walk the path of light and shadow, to find a balance between love and the carnal rage the exists in our hearts. We hold no illusions sweets - we are freaks from the same cloth, birds of a feather flocking together. We made this business our livelihood and will continue to do so long after our careers are over. Despite claims made against our gender, we are warriors of the highest order. We’ve won and lost against men twice our size. No matter how far we fall, we’d get right back up, twice as strong. This match...is so personal for both of us. Despite our budding friendship, there’s unfinished business between us. This isn’t a goodbye match, but to see just who is the best wrestler alive. Personally, I think you’re better than Nasir Moore, and I’ll tell him to his face in a heartbeat. And if YOU’RE better than your husband one could only guess where that puts me…”

Stephanie winks at the camera. 

“As I’ve said, back in the old days, you left this business on your back. Once the final bell rings you exit that ring battered and bruised. You were lucky if you could leave the ring under your own power. You’re an old school kind of chick, sweets, as am I. So, despite your hardcore reputation, we’re going to throw down in a good old fashioned singles match. This is the final test. Can you take the war queen, a current women’s world champion, in all her glory? Do you have enough fight left in you? You can be as confident as you want, but I saw the tired look in your eyes backstage at The Clash. There’s a side of you that wants to be done with wrestling. How much pain medication have you taken over the years? How many surgeries have you had? How many bones have you broken in your career, sweets? A fighter is never the same when they’re patched together. With each beating you take, you edge closer to forced retirement. It’s never easy to decide when to hang up your boots...hell I can’t even imagine when it’s my time to call it quits. It’s the end of an era in a way, sweets. Well, this whole year is kind of an end of an era, really. You’re one of the innovators, a true credit to the industry.”

Stephanie takes a moment to take a sip from her tea.

“This is not about pride, but performing my due diligence. You deserve the match of a lifetime. I deserve to end the legacy of a living legend. The sharpest spear meets the unbreakable shield. When people look back, they will witness the greatest match they’ve ever seen. Know it. Understand it. Believe it."