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20180107

This is the SSW Promo Page! These are the promoing rules and must be abided by:

NO PROMOS FOR HOUSE SHOWS!
2 PROMO LIMIT FOR WEEKLY SHOWS!
3 PROMO LIMIT FOR PPVS!
4 PROMO LIMIT FOR MAJOR PPVS!
YOU CAN USE HOUSE SHOWS TO WRITE PERSONAL SEGMENTS, INTERVIEWS, OR WHATEVER TO HYPE YOUR FEUD! THIS IS NOT MANDATORY!
PROMOS WILL BE JUDGED BY A THREE-PERSON JURY SYSTEM BASED ON THE WRITER OF THE MATCH AND TWO BOARD MEMBERS!
DO NOT POST CHALLENGES ON THE PROMO PAGE!
DO NOT BREAK KAYFABE IN THE PROMO PAGE! THIS IS FAKE AND STORYLINE!

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on March 28th 2018, 11:22 pmPiero
Piero and his new friend and trainer, Stark, enter the renowned Ichiraku Ramen stand to discuss Piero’s strategy for his upcoming SSW Freebird Tag Team Championship match while enjoying some god-tier noodle.

Stark: Uh, I understand the narrative you’re trying to sell here but don’t you think it’s just a little disingenuous to call me your friend when you’re actually paying me quite a bit of Yen to train you? I mean if it helps your cause, go ahead.

Piero: Shut up, shut up, shut up. Can we re-shoot that?

Stark: No, it’s live.

Piero: Oh Stark, you and your jokes. No wonder you’re back here instead of off in that concentration camp of an --

Stark: Let’s not bring up that place. Our glorious main eventers are already trying their best to capitalize on their past glory. For me, SSW is my retirement home basically.

Piero: Retirement? You’re younger than I am, and I’m basically just getting started!

Stark: Right, well, that’s what happens when you have an actual lick of talent in your body. Luckily for you though, where talent fails, raw brute force and a little bit of experienced guidance will always help you power through! So let’s get right to it - Lesson One: Know Yourself. So you’re really serious when you’re saying that this is your first title match in your entire 16 year career?

Piero: … Well, yes, but because --

Stark: Because you’re a loser who can’t carry his fat ass to victory.

Piero: HEY!

Stark: You want training? You’re getting the brutal truth. To know yourself, you must acknowledge all your faults. You’re disgustingly unathletic, you have absolutely no ring awareness, you have no in-ring talent, and you barely know how to run the ropes. The moves you do ever manage to land are by sheer luck, and even when they do connect, they do no damage to your opponent. Basically, you’re a worthless failure. Can you accept that, Piero?

Piero: Well, when you put it that way… I guess…

Stark: There’s no guessing here. If you want to get past Lesson One, you must know yourself entirely without a shadow of a doubt. If you cannot accept that you are a failure, then you have no foundation to work with. But you know what the best part about being as worthless of a failure as you are is?

Piero [holding back tears]: What….?

Stark: You’re already at your lowest low. So from here on out Piero, every day is an improvement. Every day you’re going to get better. Unfortunately for us, there’s pretty much only two nights left until your match. So we’re going to have to speed this shit up. But I promise you, win or lose, I will make sure that by the time Exodus comes around, you’ll be ring-ready.

Piero: Okay then I guess… I can accept… I AM A FAILURE! I AM A FAILURE! I AM A FAILURE AND I’M PROUD!

Stark: That’s the kind of self-deprecating enthusiasm that’s going to get you places! Maybe there is hope for you to be more than a failure in his mid-thirties! Mastering yourself may be half of the solution in normal circumstances, but for a tag team match, you still need another lesson - Know Your Ally. Do you know who Tarah Nova is?

Piero: Yeah I’ve watched Elite --

Stark: I said don’t name that place. I don’t want AIDS.

Piero: I’ve seen her compete “around the world”.

Stark: That’s more like it!

Piero: It’s intimidating having to team up with her…

Stark: I’m sure it is. There are huge expectations on you right now, you understand that right? The company that gave you a title shot, your legendary partner relying on you, and your entire faction pulling for you to win the gold for them. Is that something you can live up to?

Piero: The best I can do is try… I could always low-blow --

Stark:
If the referee doesn’t see you, then yes. But I’m training you to win without the low-blow. Anyways, Tarah Nova has made her intentions very clear - she wants those belts. You fooling around is not going to help her do that, so don’t be an idiot out there. Your opponents are getting on Tarah’s nerves with the bullshit they’re throwing out there, so the last thing you need to do is mess with her head any further, do you understand?

Piero: Yes. I’ll be as focused as possible.

Stark: There ya go, you’re learning already. Now, for the final lesson, and definitely the most important one - Know Your Enemy. Even if you’re not fully in-tune with yourself, as long as you know your enemy, you might still be able to scrape by with the win. There have been many years in my career where I struggled from not being aligned with my inner morals, but even then, I never failed like you did, simply because I always made sure to study my opponents enough to where I could put up a good fight, and in the end, more often than not, I won. So, what can you tell me about Chase Vedder and Racer Smiles?

Piero:

Stark: Piero?

Piero:

Stark: Is there anything you can tell me about Chase or Racer?

Piero: … No…

Stark: But didn’t I ask you to study them extensively when you called me on Sunday and hired me to train you? You did none of that?

Piero: … No…

Stark: So then what the fuck have you been doing all week?

Piero:

Stark: Oh boy. Well luckily for you, you’re paying me enough for me to do that work for you.

Piero: YES.

Stark: Shut up. It’s not good news. Chase Vedder called you a fat sack of blubber with no accomplishments, but since we got past lesson one, you should know that already. He also thinks you smell bad.

Piero: I don’t smell bad at all! I only use the highest quality of cologne!

Stark: Yeah well that ain’t won you a single match in your entire career, and it sure as hell isn’t going to help you beat Chase or Racer, is it?

Piero: … No…

Stark: Exactly. For a guy like Chase Vedder, you’re looking at someone with above-average talent with a lot to prove, but he’s also going to have a huge chip on his shoulder. He has a lot to prove, while still having to maintain his cooler-than-cool demeanor. If you can find a balance where you fuck with him enough to knock him off his game, you might just be able to create an opening for you or Tarah to take him down. Let his ego and pride be his downfall. He is SEVERELY underestimating you, Piero, and you need to take advantage of that.

Piero: All right. He won’t see me coming at all!

Stark: Good. Racer Smiles is another case though. This guy has an even bigger ego, and I fear that he might actually have the skills to back them up. He doesn’t care about his partner one bit - he thinks he’s going to carry his team alone. I do find him a little too overconfident considering Tarah Nova is in the match, but he already thinks of her as a non-factor so he’s preemptively setting himself up for failure. He demands respect when he’s done nothing to earn it. I’ve faced dozens of men like him Piero. All you need to do is let him play himself. He has no idea who he’s stepping into that ring with when he faces Tarah. Just don’t get in her way when she’s fighting him, and she’ll take care of it. You need to focus on having her back.

Piero: Then that’s exactly what I’ll do.

Stark: Listen, Piero. You’ve gotten these three lessons from me for your coin, but I’ll throw in a few extra pointers. Most of all, you need to be relaxed out there. I know that all of Ronin is counting on you to win, but ultimately, they’ll get over it. Don’t fail yourself. Go in with a clear head, don’t let the bright lights of the big stage trip you up, and above all… have fun. That’s what worked for me, and I think I’ve carved a pretty good career out of the 8 years I’ve been at it. So what if you’re a late starter, Piero? So what if you’ve a failure up to this point in your life? We’re going to turn that around. You’re going to be a failure today, Piero. You’re going to be a failure tomorrow. But on March 31st, at SSW Exodus… you’re going to be the Tag Team Champion. Now show me some confidence.

Piero: PIERO…. ICHIBAN!!!!

Stark: You’re god damn right, Piero Ichiban.

Piero: Still… I’m feeling pretty nervous. Any tips on getting over the anxiety?

Stark: Hm… I should have something in my “bonsai garden” for that. Hey waiter, check please?

Stark and Piero gather themselves and depart for Stark’s legally-ambiguous “bonsai garden”.
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on March 28th 2018, 11:15 pmSaul Omen
The Song of Saul Omen: Chapter IV

[Darkness takes hold of the camera’s view to where suddenly a red light shines brightly, the red lines forming a triangle to shine throughout the room that it has been contained in, showing a number of cloaked figures that have surrounded the triangle. Silent disciples with ivory skull masks around their faces, watching and praising the triangle that sits before them, before the light transformed into the dark Stygian void. As shadows dance within the night, what could be seen as an illusions of tendrils from the shadows escape through what now has become almost a portal, as suddenly a man walks through the portal dressed in a midnight black suit. The darkness closes back to where the tendrils sink back into the triangle, a dark aura of his own surrounded the man before he walked down the steps, with the disciples scurrying away from him like mice. Smoke is shown to follow him with darkness being ousted by the light as we soon notice the familiar face of Saul Omen, taking a seat before the camera, as he lets out a bestial growl that hums as he cracks his neck.]

Saul Omen: I have been awakened from my slumber, resurrected by the divine grace of Death, to return to his terrestrial plane of existence known as Strong Style Wrestling. As I slept into the void of darkness and lost souls, I prepared myself for the ultimate conquest in the war of Life and Death. The strength that I had before, in the time when Strong Style Wrestling was thriving before the legality of the juvenile of this world cause the hiatus to return me to my slumber, it pales in comparison towards the power that has been absorbed into this mortal vessel. Now, the world will watch as a stronger vessel of Death emerges from the darkness, a man who has accept the divine graces of Death to walk into the world to where we shall be introduced to the new souls of the Earth, all making their mass exodus towards the safe haven of Strong Style Wrestling. What has awoken me might be the question that you have asked yourself and one that should not be found to be ashamed of asking. What awoken me from the slumber that endowed me with the gifts of the deity that I give my entirety towards was… hunger. The hunger for the souls that used to litter the battlefield of this wrestling ring, the thirst for blood that needs to be quenched by the beast that has been harbored inside of this mortal coil, and the desire to collect souls for in honor of the deity that has continued to allow life in this body of mine. This company of fighters and warriors that have gathered from across the world have merged here in Strong Style Wrestling with the sole purpose of serving as my tributes that the first person in this resurrection to be my tribute is none other than a mockery of a man. Captain Strong Style. A jester in the kingdom of puroresu stands to challenge the monster that strikes fear into the hearts of all man, the shadow that lingers at their doorstep, as I intend to feast upon the soul of this inadequate man on the stage of Exodus. This man shall be honored with this title of being known as a tribute for not only an acolyte of Death that has been brought to this realm, but for the deity himself to consume this tribute for himself. Captain Strong Style, this will be your curtain call before the show even begins. This will be the honorable death that a man of your stature pleads with the supernatural forces that decide your fate to give you. This will be a death that will be remembered throughout all of your generations and with that, I shall make the reintroduction of this vessel known as Saul Omen known. Strong Style Wrestling… your new god has risen once again.

[The static starts to flicker onto the camera to where you can see a darkness form around Saul Omen, a form that looked almost demonic starts to overtake him as a snarl of a beast is heard, only for the static to end with Saul Omen still seated there. He lets out a devious grin on his face, teeth glimmering into the light, as the darkness envelops around him to take him away from the camera’s sight.]
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on March 28th 2018, 2:40 pmSon of Ra


You claim to have a spirit inside of you you claim is your father...

But I know that the spirit of mine lives within us all...

OOOOHHHH YYYYAAAAASSSSSS it is, by the flowing of the Nile. By the way the sands shift across the deserts of all Egypt I make this truthful claim, not as if he is some casper the ghost who considers us all to be friends like you say you have inside of you. But I can see what is inside of you dear sir, I see what lays deep in you. It is fear, fear that you should have been sent to the duat those many moons ago. That is why you mask it with possession, which is nine tenths of the law! And the law of this land we roam through speaks nothing of small childrens fears of ghosts! YOU HAVE NO GHOST IN YOU SIR! AND I WILL PURGE YOU FROM YOUR WARPED REALITY! OHH YASS I am, I will take the power of the Nile, and what it stands for and bring it down upon you like the ignited blaze of Ra himself. At the end of this battle, this long and hard road for you and your casper will end not the way you would like, but the way you must be satisfied with. Anubis guided your father, along with all of the other fallen souls of the genocide you survived to the duat, because like you live a lie...HE LIED TO YOU! And there will be no acceptance into the field of reeds, not with those like yourself who's hearts are heavier than a boulder, much less the feather. And Ma at knows that your heart is heavy, I know that your heart is heavy. The only thing heavier you possess is the golden relic you carry around your waist...




OOOHHHHH INNDDEEEDDD IIITTT ISSS!!!

And I will be the one to rip it away your your possession, and add it to my own collection of foreign relics to my home land. And inside of my palace of enlightenment, inside of my case of all trophies it will be held Next to the shield of Alexander the Great, next to the helmet and chest guard of Ramses The Great. So shall the relic you have be added to my trophy case, you shall be added to the list of people who have fallen in battle against the great Atem Octavian Amun Ra!!! So you may witness the AWAKENING of the inner DEITY inside of my HUMONCULUS! Enjoy the show you are about to see dear sir, because afterwards you will never get to see it again! Just like you will never get to see the Heritage Championship ever again. Because once I get my hands on this relic it will never leave my possession. I shall take that from you, just like you shall have the dream you live taken from you as your father is revealed to not possess you, but wish you were never born good sir...for your DISHONOR!!!! I look forward into seeing you on the battlefield of Kadesh, so you may have the process started on you. Because sooner rather than later, I will make sure you are locked in a SARCOPHAGUS OF OBLIVION!!!!! For when the official lays his hand down for a third time during our battle, you will be left...

MUMMIFIED! MUMMIFIED! MUMMIFIED!

OOOOOHHHHHHH YYYYAAAAAASSSSSSS
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on March 27th 2018, 11:42 pmJaydayne Pendragon
⚔️The sound of a high speeding train is heard as the camera goes to a video in the past where Jaydayne Pendragon is half asleep seated in the packed vehicle.  As the bumpy ride goes on the video plays re-enactments of historic misdeeds both specific and general, people led into chambers as others look away, children bullied in full schoolyards, an uncomfortable young lady being quietly groped on in a train full of people, and people in board rooms looking at flowcharts of the profits they’ll make putting pipelines through reserves. Throughout, Pendragon’s voice can be heard.⚔️


The world often stands in awe of the past horrors they are told happened, wondering how it could have gotten that bad. We’d like to think we live in better times, that we’re better people. Oh that wouldn’t happen today, if it did we’d intervene, so on…so on. But most people like to keep their heads down, we prefer to have our lives lived in relative comfort not getting involved with other people’s concerns and for rewards of all kinds we’ll live in subjugation as long our chains are loose enough not to hurt, so long as our brothers and sisters are the ones being whipped instead of us. As much as the world has progressed and gotten better, we are still those people, we are beings who can revert to old habits of looking the other way, as we sell our souls, and allow our dignity to decay. That’s how the world gets that bad, that’s how you get taken along the ride to places we never imagine going.


⚔️Pendragon’s hand reaches out to grasp a wrist, revealing the teen groper, and the young woman from earlier in the train, now relieved of her troubles.⚔️


But all you have to do is stand up. Then you can change the trajectory of the world around you, you have at least that chance.

⚔️In present time, Pendragon and the teen now aged few years older are seen in a dojo paying respects, bowing their heads.⚔️


Then the people around you, even the worst of the worst, have a chance to better themselves, to repent and have a new lease on life to try going about living their life again the proper way. I was once given this second chance, as both a wrestler and a man, so I know I owe the world to not let it go to waste, I know I must represent the right values to pay homage to all that I have been given. Strong Style Wrestling, chief among my benefactors, allowed me to be a leader, gave this hafu samurai a full-blown license to be the head of Shoot Nation.


⚔️Pendragon is left alone as he raises his head and stares at the camera.⚔️


Now Strong Style Wrestling is the one with a second chance. The path here was an arduous one, we lost many, but gained others, our wills have been ironed and nobody here is playing any games with all that has been put at stake. I’m sure my adversaries at Exodus have their own stories, two people who were part of a mass exodus of their own when the chains got too tight, but let there be no mistaking my path to be any less filled with sacrifice. I reiterate this on the grand reopening, I am a sponsored wrestler of the J-Dynasty, and my sponsors knew what it meant for me to wrestle here, and they, undeterred, gave up their past for my future. A future when I can provide for my fiancée’s family needs, and use my talents to build a home for many men and women who come to the East to master this craft. So now in Strong Style Wrestling’s return, I have even more people who count on me than the last time, my duty to fight with honour and perseverance has been amplified tenfold! I will make sure to bring that way of living into the fabric Strong Style Wrestling. Because just like people…..no even more so as a collection of people, Strong Style Wrestling must too live up to it’s responsibilities to those that have sacrificed for it and given it this shot at redemption!

And while I say that I am sure my adversaries have their stories, I cannot vouch for their commitment towards the culture of strong style, be it neither in spirit nor in wrestling. Aria Jaxon and CM Nas are both foreign megastars sorted into the Phantom Troupe, a vile group rivaled only in illness by Tres Comas. If not for Shoot Nation, those idle Ronin fools who believe they can be neutral on a moving train would allow The Phantom Troupe and Tres Comas to run the good name of this company into the mud. Be they scum or be they ignorant, Nas and Aria seal their fate by association, for my war against the Phantom Troupe is not over! The red strife wages on.

Some will say, it’s two on one, you shouldn’t bother fighting. That’s the Answers World Champion and Aria Jaxon, it’s a loss cause trying to face those two working together! Such people who can say that have no idea what this red strife I wage entails, they didn’t truly absorb my earlier worlds because I told you all that you have to stand up when the alternative is to be led into a darkness that none have ever imagined! If I’m to pack my bags and give up on this match, then it’s already doomsday, the most coveted prize shall fall into the grasps of the unworthy. Unworthy, not because they aren’t big names or good wrestlers, far from it. Unworthy, because they don’t care about people, they drag foreign gold into our lands for attention when the only championships we need recognize are our own, and they accept the brand of the Phantom Troupe for whatever power or notoriety they misguidedly believe it gives them. I don’t believe such egos can work together when so much is on the line, but I’m ready for anything. I won’t sheath my blade in front of the incoming army hoping they treat me as a civilian when I know after me that they’ll brutalize everyone and everything I care about later if they get on top of this company. I sharpen my blade, now as ever before, so I cut them down before their wicked ways take root.

⚔️ Calling back to the past as a signature, Pendragon swipes his hand slowly over the red streak in his hair before abruptly making a diagonal cutting motion at the end and the screen cuts in half, and the view goes to black.⚔️
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on March 26th 2018, 11:16 pmThe Apparition
*As dusk fell, a small, solitary light flickered on top of a cliff overlooking the Atlantic Ocean. On the craggy surface located deep in Newfoundland, with forests lining the rest of the shoreline and civilisation seemingly miles away, a solitary figure huddled over his hastily constructed bonfire, an old leather belt in hand. A familiar logo emblazoned at its crest reflected weakly on the nearby weary blaze, as the word “PURE” shone as if foreboding the belts ironic fate*
 
*Suddenly, the hooded figure dropped the belt into the flame, as its leather straps began to fuel the fire’s hunger. The fire began to shine just that bit brighter, as the man finally dropped his hood and revealed his face. Well, the part of his face not covered by his mask*
 
“Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound……That saved a wretch like me…”
 
*As the man began to sing cliché gospel lyrics he began to drop more items into the fire. Old wrestling trunks, unworn in many years. Promotional shirts which were left over from his inglorious final run. Tacky memorabilia from a time he wanted to forget, but couldn’t stop himself from remembering*
 
“I once was lost…But now am found"
 
*The man’s mask clung stalwartly on his face, as his tired eyes tried their best to rip themselves away from the charred remains of his old memories. His chapped lips continued to sing, as he bid farewell to his old life. Farewell to his failures. Farewell to his regrets*
 
“Was blind…But now…..I see”
 
*Just as soon as the fire had reached its climax, the salty ocean air began to combat the fire’s brilliance. The blistering cold of Canada ate away at its will to live, and having completed its goal for destruction, the flame began to consume itself into nothingness. In its ashes, the shattered dreams of The Apparition’s old life lay for a moment, before being blown away by the cruel sea breeze*
 
*Soon, nothing was left but some scorched metal, now unrecognisable from what it was before. And for the first time, the enigma known as The Apparition finally smiled, showing the world that he was down, but not out just yet. Goosebumps began to crawl up his oriental skin. For the first time in years, he was free. Free from not just his civilian life, but also free from the past of the road that he was going to once again going to undertake*
 
*A plane ticket in hand, The Apparition could only lightly chuckle at the coincidence he was going to force on himself. A Canadian of Japanese ancestry, travelling to Japan to begin his journey as a professional wrestler. Again*
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on March 26th 2018, 7:49 pmRacer Smiles

Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Racer Smiles. I’m a champion powerlifter and one of the newest additions to Tres Comas Club, as well as the SSW roster. I first stepped into the ring a year ago and ever since then I have proven to everyone exactly why they should respect Racer Smiles. Nobody has been able to overpower me. I cannot be intimidated. But when I stepped in the ring for the first time I faced tremendous disrespect. I was dubbed from the beginning as an “undersized underdog.” Apparently in the world of professional wrestling if you’re a man who’s 5’9 then you’re suddenly considered an underdog fighting against the odds, or at least that’s what my opponents think until I throw them around like ragdolls.

I don’t care if my tag team partner has the attention span of a rodent. I don’t care if Tarah Nova was a big deal somewhere else. I don’t care if Tres Comas is coming back from the brink of extinction. We will be leaving Exodus with the Freebird Championships. Why? Because I’m more than strong enough to carry this team across the finish line no matter how heavy that cross is to bear.

At Exodus I will show the Ronin why you can’t argue with raw strength. I take what I want… because I can. Because nobody can stop me, especially not some chubby shit and a woman whose past accomplishments will mean absolutely nothing when I’m choking the life out of her. You can lead your faction to me with confidence but the destruction that will follow is inevitable. You said a lot about my partner and if I’m being honest I found myself agreeing with you, however the beauty of our situation is that nothing you say about Chase is going to hurt our chances. I could handle your entire faction by myself so whether or not my partner is as good as he says he is becomes irrelevant, as long as he stays out of my way.

But of course both me and Tarah Nova have our shotty partners but at least mine won’t break a sweat on his way down the ramp. Sweety I’m sorry but your resume averaged out with that slug doesn’t come close to a good wrestler who thinks he’s the hottest shit on the market averaged out with the strongest man in SSW. Maybe I haven’t accomplished much in the ring, but I’m not some squirt walking onto the court hoping to keep up with the big kids, I’m a physical specimen. I’ve worked hard to be in a league of my own in regards to one of the most important aspects of this sport and I did it through discipline and perseverance. Compare that to your skills as a leader and your deep rooted love for violence and maybe you’d have a chance just like you have your entire career. Sadly you’ve never faced someone like me.

You may be a champion of legend in this squared circle, but you’re talking to the Chief. Do you know what that means? A Chief is someone who demands respect, and that’s all I’m asking for. Of course we both know that simply asking for respect isn’t enough, you need to do something to earn it. You have not shown me a shred of respect Ms. Nova, so on March 31st I’ll have to make sure we change that. Once my partner and I walk away with those belts over our shoulders you and your partner will be left broken in the ring. The only thought you will be capable of processing after our confrontation?

LONG LIVE THE CHIEF!
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on March 26th 2018, 1:59 pmTarah Nova


You Call Me A Bitch Like It's A Bad Thing---EXODUS!
Promo Number One

“You show up everywhere I go, get a grip you're acting so weird. I don't need your jager bombs, I think I can take it from here. You gotta learn to leave when the party ends, I don't really care what you tell your friends; tell me again. You call me a bitch like it's a bad thing. You call me a freak, like that means something! Can't get your way, so you're angry. I think we know the rest, get it off your chest! I don't give a shit! I love it when you call me a bitch.”


user posted image





Ya know... if someone walked up to me and told me when I first started EAW that I was going to be fired for having a backbone to stand up to my fucker of a ex-boss one day, I would have laughed in their face because for five years EAW was my home but as you can see I'm not standing on American soil anymore. I stood up to the chairman himself and told him where he can shove my contract and EAW as a whole...but this isn't about EAW anymore. Fuck them. This is about the new company that will be sweeping EAW under the rug. This is the place I picked over any other company in the world today. This is about Strong Style Wrestling and I am proud to say: this is the place where I truly belong. No more people going behind my back and trying to make a fool of me. No more watching people kissing ass just to get their name in the spotlight. Right now it's about respect and honor and if you're meant to be in the spotlight; you know damn well you will be there. That's what Strong Style Wrestling is all about in my eyes. And it gets so much better because I left as a leader and I started a revolution and the people who run SSW saw that. Seeing how I am, they gave me power over certain group called Ronin. Yes, Tarah Jay Nova, once the Leader of the New Era is now the Leader of The Misfits of Wrestling. The Freaks and Geeks of Strong Style. The Group called Ronin. And with me at the head of the pack, I promise each and every fan that will be watching on Saturday that I will leave my tag team and the Ronin Empire to Victory like I have been leading division at the division that I have been in. That's what I do the best in companies, I lead them. It does it matter if it's against teams like SHOOT NATION or The Phantom Troupe where my love is, I will lead Ronin through the wars we will have in this company; with smiles on our faces and Baseball Bats in our hands. I am a woman of my word, my pets, and my word is this: Overlook the Misfits now but I promise you all that once the going gets tough, Ronin will rise and take over. No matter what. [Tarah smirks, rubbing her left shoulder blade before continuing] Now with that being said, I guess I should speak about my so called opponents, huh? Who to start with thought. I can always start with Racer Smiles, whose name sounds like rejected Mario Kart Player or some old school AOL messenger screen name but nah, I can wait on him for a little while. No, I'll start with Chase Vedder.

...So let me begin by saying: you sir are a fuckin fool.

That was blunt, yes I know but after listening to you speak about me, it had to be said.  I mean truly it was nothing short but funny those comments. Chase, do you honestly believe in the ten years that I have been wrestling all over the world, that I have not once been called a Gothic stripper or that I could be found in the back pages? Like Lord have mercy, I have heard everything in the book, man. And I'm just going to say it right now; my adopted little sister Cassidy who doesn't swear for the life of her, can come up with better insults for me then what I am hearing now from you, Chase. And to make matters worse, you believe just because you have wrestled other females before that when you get into the ring with me that it's going to be the same deal but I'm here to tell you right now, Chase my boy: it's going to be different than any match you've had in a long time. See, I'm not going to stand here like you are did with that interviewer and just talk all this nonsense. I'm going to show you everything that I say is true when we meet in that ring for those SSW Freebird Tag Team Championship. And yeah, I do carry around my accomplishments from the devil company known as Elite Answers Wrestling. I do have those accomplishments listed because I am proud of them but that is in the past now. I'm starting a clean slate in SSW like everyone else is who followed me over. This is the only place that matters to me now. Nowhere else. So you can either continue to come at me about how I was loyal for years to that company and how I look and dress like an Edgelord or...OR you can put your side all your petty little side comments and come at me like a real man to that you supposedly are. Oh yeah...I've heard about you, Chase Vedder. You walk around companies calling yourself “THE MAN”, when you are nothing but a small little coward who hides behind his teammates or in the refs while in the ring. How sad. Its like you talk all of this big game about how you're so amazing but once that bell rings and an actual challenge steps up to gets in your face; you start to shake. God, I can see it all now and I honestly can't wait when we meet up in the ring this weekend. No for real, I'll get to watch as a fake bad boy meets the real threat that I am and in the middle of the ring, he's going to completely shatter. That's the best feeling in the world to me, ya know. Getting under people's skin and proving them wrong after when they say stupid shit like you just did, Chase. It's the best part of wrestling to me. Not the fame or the money but seeing the rage and fear in my opponents eyes when they meet me. It gives me pure happiness and right now, that's what I’m looking for. I can already feel you rolling your eyes when you listen to me speak about how your child like comments haven’t fazed me but in fact made me laugh instead. Funny how that works, huh? You try to be some hotshot that doesn’t care but than that all fades away when your lame comments get shot down and mine get stuck in your head. It all part of facing me and you will see more of that in the next coming days. So go on, continue to try to be an stereotypical asshole and try to crack disrespectful jokes at me but it won’t matter. All that matters is what you will show me in the SSW wrestling ring but...from what I see right now, it's going to be nothing short but a disappointment.



All in all, when Piero and myself come stalking down the ramp on Saturday, we will come for blood and those SSW Freebird Tag Team Championship. See, I’m not afraid to get a little wicked when it comes to catching the gold and if it's against a strong little man and a wannabe badass than my little wicked is gonna go a long way in this match.  So listen to me when I say: Watch out Tres Comas Club, here comes Ronin at full force.




NOVA OUT.


 WORDS:  1253 | TAGGED: RACER SMILES & CHASE VEDDER
© TARAH JAY NOVA


on March 26th 2018, 10:53 amGuest
Chase Vedder sits down at a lone chair. He’s wearing slim jeans with a purple V-neck and a black leather jacket. With lights in his face and microphones surrounding him, he takes a sip from the protein shake he’s carrying before putting it down beside him. An interviewer is stood behind the camera and he begins the interview.

Interviewer: So, Chase--

Chase pulls up his phone and immediately ignores his surroundings. It’s not seen what exactly he’s doing on his device but he chuckles for a second before the interviewer tries to restart.

Interviewer: So, Chase Vedder, here you are--

Chase, like a deer in the headlights, pops his head up and utters a single word.

Vedder: H--what?

Interviewer: We were hoping to start the interview, Chase.

Vedder: Oh, that’s fine. Yeahjustgoaheadandstart.

Chase immediately loses focus once again and his head is back down as he gazes at his phone screen.

Interviewer: So, Chase Vedder, here you are at Strong Style Wrestling after years of hard work. How does it feel to be here?

Chase is clearly not paying attention as he mumbles in response. You can hear the annoyance in the voice of the man giving the interview but he keeps his composure.

Vedder: Mhm.

Interviewer: Your first match here at SSW is for the Freebird Tag Team Championships. How does it feel to get an opportunity like that on your first night with the company?

Vedder: Mhm. Good, man. Good stuff.

An exaggerated exhale can be heard from behind the camera. Vedder is asked one final question.

Interviewer: You’ve definitely caught the attention of many talented individuals--
Vedder: Mhm.
Interviewer: --And lots of big names were looking to bring you into their faction--
Vedder: Mhm.
Interviewer: --Namely Tres Comas Club who--

The interview is interrupted again, only this time it’s by Vedder putting his smartphone back into his pocket and finally paying attention.

Vedder: Oh, Tres Comas Club! Tres Comas Club is FANTASTIC. You have no idea, man. I don’t believe in a lot of things but if there were one message I know has stood the test of time it’s that money is power… and power is everything. That’s undisputed fact. When I was in high school I can guarantee you that no one ever wanted to sit with the poor kids, not even themselves. You know why? They were filthy. They reeked of body odor and you could fill a deep fat fryer with all the grease in their hair. I could never subject myself to those kinds of people. I stuck with the kids that had the money and looked after themselves. They’re the kind of people you should be and should constantly surround yourself with. That’s why I’m proud to announce that I’m the newest official member of Tres Comas Club, the only club that I will ever be joining. Forget your nerdy chess clubs or you’re film clubs. I’m not just some other washed up wrestler looking to get kneed in the head until my eyes have roll to the back of my skull because I thought it was cool in the video games or I saw it on TV. At the end of the day, there are only two things I care about and that’s gold and green, baby. Gold and green. If I have to get a little bit hurt to succeed at beating people up then so be it. This isn’t my first time being in a fight. I’ve had guys cheap shot me over the girlfriends and dickweeds thinking they can step up to me because they can’t take a joke. I made sure they all went away with broken noses one way or another. In fact, I see about a dozen other names floating around here in Strong Style Wrestling and I must say I’m very impressed by the fact that they managed to hire all the prototypical losers I got in fights with in high school. We’ve got the geek with the mutton chops who thought they made him look tough like some stupid ass superhero, the black scene girl and her not so distant relative “goth girl who looks like I’d find her on Backpage”.

Interviewer: You got in fights with girls?

Chase is taken slightly aback, almost as if he’s insulted by the question.

Vedder: Oh come on. Are you really going to tell me you have a problem with that? The last girl I said looked like she came from Backpage fucking spat at me. That’s legally assault. Not only was I defending myself but the bitch bit me too. I couldn’t get rid of that rash for like a week.

Interviewer: What does this have to do with your match this upcoming Saturday though?

Vedder: I’m facing Tarah Nova, right? She looks just like that chick except with more muscles and scarier looking. Look, I don’t have a problem with the whole goth aesthetic she’s got going on but you know those girls never got any calls. One minute some sorry loser is having the time of his life, he gets cracked round the head and the next thing he knows he’s tied to a pentagram having voodoo rituals performed on him or whatever those girls do. They’re weird, man, and I’m sure Tarah Nova is too. No offense, obviously. She rocks the $10 stripper look like nobody else I’ve ever met so that’s saying something.

Interviewer: Do you not think you’re being disrespectful?

Vedder: I said no offense, didn’t I?

Interviewer: You’re aware of her time in Elite Answers Wrestling, correct?

Vedder: No. I don’t care about what she did somewhere else. As a matter of fact, that goes for everyone. You could be a seven time world champion with Hall of Fame rings coming out of your ass harder than bad Mexican food but when it comes to stepping in the ring with me…

It.

Does.

Not.

Matter.

If they care about their previous accomplishments so much they should stay where they accomplished those things and leave those of us who aren’t so fucking complacent to get the job done and win championships here. I’m not saying Tarah Nova is one of those people but if she is then she’s an idiot and I do my best not to talk to idiots.

Interviewer: ...Okay. Well what about Piero?

Vedder: Excuse me?

Interviewer: What about Piero?

Vedder: I’m sorry, is that a real word?

Interviewer: Yes, it means r--

Vedder: Alright alright, Jesus Christ dude. I don’t need a history lesson.

...Who is that again? --Actually, don’t worry, I’ll just check my phone.

Another sigh is heard as Chase takes out his phone and taps away. After a few moments he bursts out laughing.

Vedder: AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! THAT’S WHO I’M FACING?! Dear God. I can at least buy Tarah Nova as a threat but forget what I said about accomplishments. This guy doesn’t even have any! How did he even get in here? Did SSW end up short on talent and hire the first guy in catering or something? How the hell does someone with no accomplishments, no skills and no future manage to get into somewhere like Strong Style Wrestling under the radar like that? It’s not like he’s easy to miss! You’d have better chance missing a blue whale coming right for you than this fat sack of blubber. You, man, are gonna be real easy to take care of… unless you stink, which I’m actually kind of worried you do in which case you better back the hell up because I am not getting your stink on me. I honestly know next to nothing about my tag team partner for this championship match but I can almost guarantee that by the time Exodus rolls around he and I are going to be just the best of friends.

Chase thinks for a moment and a slight smirk turns into a small blown smile turns into a chuckle.

Interviewer: What is it?

Vedder: Oh, it’s nothing. It’s just incredible to think that this is my first match with SSW and I’m already going to be walking out not only with my share of the winners’ purse but with gold around my waist representing the United States of America to the other factions’ shithole countries: Tres Comas Club. I just can’t wait.

Chase gets up from his seat and leaves. The camera is cut off as something unintelligible is muttered from the camera.
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on March 25th 2018, 1:46 pmAndré Virgo
[André Virgo stands in a park by himself. His face lit by the morning sunlight shaded by the branches of cherry blossom trees.]

Waiting. That’s all I’ve been doing for the last few months. Just… waiting.

SSW hindered by the same place that wouldn’t look at me. By the same place that crippled my mentor. The timing crueler than anything. Taking us back to the first moments of SSW where I had my opportunity to become the first ever SSW Junior Heavyweight Champion stolen from me the same way I stole the breath away from crowds of people who accepted me with open arms into their culture. People who respect my art. An art that’s dismissed where I come from. I moved my life here from the United States to achieve the full potential of my strengths and to overcome my weakness. The same has been done by Aria Jaxon, CM Nas, Tarah Nova, but the difference is those names all have a legacy attached to them. I came here with nothing but a work ethic, passion, charisma, things that I have built for myself to reach the same heights as the names I mentioned and I’m going to need those things if these are the people I’m going to be competing against.

Tres Comas Club is in a precarious position right now. Most of us have left. Lost in the hiatus. I’ve been sitting here for months working side jobs to survive when I’m not training for the day that I will get the opportunity that was promised to me months ago. And in that time where has Mark Montana been? Where was BANG? Where are they now? Nobody has heard from them. You were the ones who started this club and I may have said that I was the true alpha of this club but I was happy to let you take the reigns leading Tres Comas. Now it seems like you’ve left Tres Comas to die and who does the responsibility fall on to bring it back from the dead?

André!... Vir!... Go!...

But before I do that I’m going to take what should have been mine from the beginning. I’m going to take the SSW Jr Heavyweight Championship and I am going to lead this faction to the top of this company after I rebuild it with my bare fucking hands. I had respect for you BANG. Even after you screwed me I respected your position at the front of Tres Comas. I respected that you brought home the Jr Heavyweight Championship to our club even though it should have been me to do that! But if you’re going to walk away from this faction when we need you most then I don’t have any damn respect for you. If you think you’re going to turn your back on us then don’t expect Tres Comas to welcome you back with open arms if and when you return.

Tres Comas Club will have a bright and glorious future… with or without you.
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on February 1st 2018, 6:15 amRAGE Hazuki
(The camera opens at an airport terminal as a smartly dressed RAGE Hazuki makes his way down the escalator, looking jet lagged and belligerent with a rolling suitcase absentmindedly bouncing down the moving steps behind him.  He catches sight of the humming press at the bottom of the escalator and tries to avert his gaze, but relents with a sigh as he reaches the bottom, realizing that he's caught as flash bulbs and chattering mouths and cameras merge in a sea of sound.)

Reporters: RAGE.  Mr. Hazuki! Mr Hazuki.  Ra-Rage-RAGE

(Dropping his suitcase and letting his fists clench at his side, RAGE snaps forward, creating a wide semicircle of personal space for himself as the reporters scatter backward like sandpipers running from the tide.)

RAGE: One at a time, or none at all.

(After a hush falls across the drove of reporters, one daringly steps into the circle, only for RAGE to charge him, catching him off guard like a possum in headlights.  RAGE nails the interloper with a gross forearm lariat that sends him buckling to the tiled airport floor.  As if someone flipped a switch, the sea of reporters crowd in and start snapping off pictures of their downed journalist comrade.  RAGE rolls his eyes, grabs his briefcase, and parts the crowd as he heads for the exit.  As soon as he makes it outside he's spotted by a portly man sporting a t-shirt sporting RAGE's likeness.)

Sponsor: Hazuki-san!

(RAGE grunts and starts walking in the opposite direction.  The confused fanboy rushes to catch up as RAGE trudges the airport sidewalk in search of an open taxi door.)

Sponsor: I saw what you did to the reporter in there.  Man, that was so cool!

RAGE: Hrm...

Sponsor: Have you heard about your match set for Sendai?

RAGE:...

Sponsor: You're facing Tetsuya Ishimori and Troy Archello.

RAGE: Hai.

Sponsor: I can't wait to see you and Mizuki tear them a new one.

RAGE: Hai...

Sponsor: Mizuki is so cool.  I-I mean you are too, but the Nakada bloodline is so-

RAGE: Hai

Sponsor: I-I don't mean to be rude Hazuki-san, but are you ignoring me?

RAGE: Hai.

Sponsor:...and why do you have a sticker of the American flag on your luggage? Did you come from America?  Troy Archello's American.  He certainly lives like one too if you get my drift.

(RAGE stops in his tracks and scans the line of rental cars and taxi cabs, then turns to his reluctant sponsor.  After a moment of silent joy from having Hazuki actually make eye contact with him, the sponsor picks up on social cues and fumbles to take Hazuki's bag.)

Sponsor: M-my car's this way,Hazuki-san.

RAGE: What kind?

Sponsor: Huah?

RAGE: Ford? Chevy? GMC?

Sponsor: It's...it's a Kia


(RAGE spits on the sponsor's shoes and begins to walk off toward a taxi.)

Sponsor: W-what's wrong?

RAGE: Korean garbage car.  You need something out of Detroit to haul me around.

Sponsor: But Kia's been around since the 40's.  They're dependable cars, I assure you.

RAGE: Not American...is...rice burner.

Sponsor: Well, I don't agree with that.  Kia's an honorable name.

RAGE: So is Nakata in these parts of the world, but you wont see me kowtowing to my tag partner.

Sponsor: You don't seem all that happy about your match.

RAGE: I am, but I'm not going to kiss someone's ass over a dead relative that won dead gold in a dead company.

Sponsor: But heritage-

RAGE: Who sent you?

Sponsor: I-I beg your pardon Hazuki-san.

RAGE: You heard me boy, who sent you?

Sponsor: I hardly understand what you mean.

RAGE: Did SSW send you? Are you some young boy they stuffed in my merch and sent out here to pick me up because you were the only one in the lineup who spoke a lick of English?

Sponsor: Uhum

RAGE: SPEAK!

Sponsor: Yes Hazuki-san!

RAGE: You a young boy?

Sponsor: Y-yes Hazuki-san!

RAGE: I was a young boy once.  They made me clean the steps of the dojo with my own toothbrush.  They ever make you do that?

Sponsor: YES HAZUKI-SAN!

RAGE: Oh? and you took it?

Sponsor: YES HAZ-

RAGE: Why?

Sponsor: To honor the temple that trained me, Hazuki-san.

RAGE: Drop that 'san' crap and call me RAGE, boy.  You pay fealty to your relatives? You worship the men that came before you? You let them keep you down in the dirt where it's easier for them to kick soil in your face?  Why? What do you owe them?  These are men who had their skulls bashed in by Russ "RXR" Rolland, one of the greatest gaijin to ever grace this horrible continent.  You know who Russ Rolland is, boy?

Sponsor/Young Boy: YES H...RAGE!

RAGE: Good.  Everyone should know him.  He won world gold in multiple dead promotions.  Went through hazing and mistreatment by men who thought he came through Japan the wrong way.  He put money in their pockets, he put global legitimacy to their names and championships, and what'd they do? Do you know, boy? Answer me if you know.

Sponsor/Young Boy: N-no RAGE.

RAGE: They stiffed him on pay, so he stiffed them in the ring for the rest of the tour.  He stretched greats, he knocked men's eyes out of socket, and damn near impaled a man's brain with a shotei straight to the point of the nose.  Then he left with their gold.  Do you know what ol' "RXR" did with it?

Sponsor/Young Boy:...

RAGE: That's right.  He took it home to North Carolina and stuck it on a railroad track and waited for the next train to pass through to either derail or snap that gold flaked face plate in half with an axle wheel, then he mailed it back to the promoter one piece at a time like kidnapper sending someone pieces of their loved one.  That promotion became the laughing stock of Japan and soon went out of business, and all because some insecure former young boy who was subservient to someone who didn't deserve it caught a glimpse of what ol' Russ was packin' in the locker room and got jealous of what he saw.  Do ya know what he saw, boy?

Sponsor/Young Boy:...

RAGE: A big, fat, thick, tan, American, wallet that took half the box office back home with him. Now do you think Russ deserved that payday?  I do.  Do you think he deserved being shunned for being a top draw? I don't.  Do you think it's honorable for a bunch of homers to gripe and complain about a man putting food on their little tables until they cost him the last half of the tour's pay? Is that what you look up to boy?

Sponsor/Young Boy: Y-y-yes Hazuki-san.

RAGE: That's what I figured.  Give me your car keys.

Sponsor/Young Boy: Uhum..

RAGE: Give them too me before I decide to up and take'em.


(The young boy hurriedly digs into his pockets and quickly procures his keys.  He holds them out to RAGE, whom yanks them out of his hand.)

RAGE: Now if I were one of those men you looked up to, those guys who call themselves the 'shuyaku', those boot lickers who will bow in my presence and talk crap as soon as I leave, I'd take these keys and drive myself to the arena and make your young boy ass walk, then I'd wreck it half way to the front office and call a cab.  Is that what you want, boy?

Sponsor/Young Boy: No Mr. RAGE.

RAGE: It's just RAGE, and the sooner you learn that, the quicker you'll be able to make it home after you pull these keys from the gutter after I pitch them in there.  Do you think Troy or Tetsuya would treat you any different? You think some weeaboo burn out who couldn't make it in America wrestling a Japanese style while getting sauced off of sake is going to treat you any differently than those  established talents that make you wash their dishes and do their laundry? Do you think that flame out never-was Tetsuya Ishimori's not going to get his jollies off totaling your prized Kia Sorento?  They think they're bigger than you just because they were once you.  Does that make any sense to you, boy? Does it make sense for a toilet scrubber to scrub toilets for a former toilet scrubber?  That's what Tres Comas Club thinks.  That's what all of these jealous ingrates believe. You think Mizuki gives a damn about heritage? She's fighting like me, outside of the parameters set by your little caste system of an existence. Do you think it's fair for a guy like Ishimori to be labeled the next shuyaku just because he happens to look handsome and wrestles like a former established Ace?  That doesn't leave much room at the table for a pudgy little Ramen muncher like yourself, now does it? Is it fair that you have to wrestle a certain style to make them look good? Is it honest that you've been relegated to twenty basic holds that ensure that you aren't going to beat someone you could make a name off of?  You're veal, kid.  They've tied up your legs, locked you in a dark closet, and made sure you grow up tender so that they can have an easier time devouring you.  And for what? Just so you can leave and learn how to really wrestle in a different country where people will treat you more like family than the people back at home?  That's the culture that Troy Archello chose to pander to.  That's the culture that sent Tetsuya to Mexico with his tail between his legs long after he quit being a peasant like you.


(The young boy hangs his head in shame as tears roll down his chubby cheeks.  RAGE Hazuki sizes him up, then pitches his keys into a nearby storm drain.  RAGE waits for a moment, almost as if expecting the young boy to try something.  He then loosens up his posture and straightens the lapels of his suit jacket.)

RAGE: You disgust me.  If you were a real man, you'd take a swing and make yourself famous.  Instead you're getting on your hands and knees and shoving your pudgy frame down that storm drain.  Then you're going to drive me to the hotel, because all those pudgy little legs are good for is taking a bite out of and pushing down a gas pedal.

Sponsor/Young Boy: But the front office-

RAGE: The front office will wait for their star attractions.  Phantom Troupe answers to no one, and the sooner you learn that, the sooner you'll be able to drive me somewhere without digging through run off to get your car keys.  Understood?

Sponsor/Young Boy: Yes sir.

RAGE: Now that's what I like to hear! Now cram yourself through that grating so that I can make it to the hotel bar before it closes.

(The young boy reluctantly begins lowering his huge frame down to the ground.  Rolling his eyes, RAGE grabs the back of his neck and shoves him down to the ground.  As soon as the young boy manages to wedge half his body through the drain, RAGE reaches into his pockets, procures a set of keys, and presses the key chain button, causing a nearby Kia Sorento to flash it's lights and unlock it's doors.  He looks down at the struggling and oblivious young boy, shakes his head, and then hops in the car and drives away.)
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on January 27th 2018, 11:58 pmVanessa Santiago
I.

Ryōgoku Sumo Hall is eerily quiet, and the only sounds that fill the air is the faint echoing of Vanessa Santiago’s steps against the linoleum floor of the backstage corridor. There are no muffled sounds of far-off fanfare from the general direction of the ring, no bright lights, and no colorful streamers. Santiago dons black jeans, black boots, and a form-fitting black Phantom Troupe logo shirt as she slowly walks down the long hallway. Her long dark blonde hair is straightened and draped over her shoulders. Her pouty lips and narrowed eyes are set in a scornful expression.

Vanessa Santiago: One show, that’s all it took. One showcase in front of the entire world. The much-hyped coming-out party of SSW was everything that it was promised to be. The most selfless among us will look back on last week’s show and say it was just the dawn of what will one day go down as a legendary wrestling promotion, but for me? Oh, I’m not worried about what the headlines said or what fans were sitting at home tweeting about afterward. I’m most focused on the emphatic statement that was made last week by The Phantom Troupe. The other factions, they’re waiting, knowing it’ll take time to build their reputations and to build momentum. But just as I advocated before I ever even stepped into the ring with that failure Ishimori, I seize. I take. And so do my comrades. The spot of the top faction of SSW was something that people foolishly believed was something up for debate. The world at large thought there was a power struggle taking place, but to call it a struggle implies that there was ever a chance in hell of us not doing exactly what we promised to do. After the events of last week, we were called many things.

Santiago runs her tongue over her teeth, her tone of voice suggesting that she is proud of the things that she and her allies have done thus far.

Vanessa Santiago: Cowardly. Ruthless. Disrespectful. Devoid of honor. Those words hold no value or meaning. They’re cheap labels slapped on the absolute fucking apex of this promotion by people who could never even dream of understanding why we do what we do or just how high our ceiling is as the undisputed rulers of this company. With one boot to the back of Levi Maximus’ head, Saul proved to him that he wasn’t a god at all -- just a C-grade competitor spewing the same claims of “I’M THE BEST!” that the vast majority of wrestlers do with no means to backing it up. It was cute of him to try and downplay it at the press conference, though. And for those crying foul about how the main event played out...it was a No Disqualification match, right? Only some blind, altruistic Shoot Nation trash like Kawada would go into that expecting a crisp affair. John Doe didn’t do anything wrong. Him and Khmaoch operated well within the rules, and isn’t that what all you puro do-gooders are huge on? Abiding by the rules? There were none, and The Phantom Troupe is the only group of motherfuckers who know how to deal with that. And so we have the first-ever Heritage Champion in our ranks. The first conquest of many.

She sighs happily.

Vanessa Santiago: But of all the things that transpired, my personal favorite wasn’t knowing that the sun rose. It was knowing that La Dictadora did. What happened last week wasn’t me being handed a gift-wrapped victory, no matter what Ishimori says. He didn’t let me have anything. He cut his losses and walked away before I humiliated him, and it’s the only wise decision he’s ever made in his life. Play the tape back. Do you think he was ready for me to trap his arms and elbow away six of his last seven brain cells? He wrote me off, he was ill-prepared, and he started backpedaling the second the reality of his situation set in. It’s just convenient for him that he can wrap it all up neatly in his stupid ass little “tranquilo” bow. I know the truth -- I was the better competitor, and I was always destined to win that match. I was bound to be standing here, standing on the threshold of becoming the inaugural SSW Jr. Heavyweight Champion.

Vanessa clenches a fist.

Vanessa Santiago: Oh, and imagine being the sorry, narrow-minded fools calling me an underdog or an unsafe bet here! I won’t even play the cheap card and reference gender, I’m sure it’s deeper than that. Not only am I sure there are people thinking I got into this match the easy way, my position in The Phantom Troupe probably has led some to count me out. BANG is the leader of Tres Comas Club. Jaydayne Pendragon is the leader of Shoot Nation. And me? I’m the grunt, right? The soldier down in the trenches? The worker bee?

The Cuban expatriate scoffs and rolls her brown eyes.

Vanessa Santiago: You won’t hear me spewing some sob story about how my need for gold keeps me up at night because I’ve worked my entire life for the “privilege” of being called a champion. I’m just realistic. You can’t attain power unless you’ve got some leverage. It helps to have a ten-pound strap to aid in throwing your weight around, you know what I mean? I don’t need a title to fulfill some childhood dream or to pander to an arena full of fans I couldn’t care less about. I didn’t come here to be another name on the payroll or another wrestler on the marquee. I came here to fulfill my birthright -- through violence and bloodshed. I was put on this earth to call the shots, and your voice is never louder than when you have something that people want. The title is a means to an end. An asset for my regime. A piece of the bigger puzzle for my faction. An integral part of my eventual rise to total power.

The end of the statement is punctuated with conviction as she continues down the hallway, the sound of her voice the only noise persisting.

Vanessa Santiago:
On one hand, I’m dealing with BANG, who under different circumstances, I might be mildly impressed with. Laying out your own brother in arms to get here? Forcing your benefactor or sugar daddy or whatever to choose sides between the two of you? That’s a level of self-preservation that most people don’t possess. But maybe it’s dumb to expect anything else from you. After all, you lead Tres Comas Club, and you’re all motivated by the almighty dollar. You rely on corporate sponsors and their well-lined pockets to give you purpose. Their seals of approval as “future world champions” are what get you and your boys out of bed in the morning. Your purpose doesn’t compete with mine. Like I said, the label’s already been assigned. That’s what Montana his buddies see you as, just a good wrestler with lots of potential. And I’m sure it means the world to you, to know that people give a shit. There’s nothing to run from anymore, is there? Knowing that you have a purpose in this world, there’s no reason for you to go running to the pages of your manga, correct? You don’t have the mental fortitude to wrap your mind around anything bigger than what Mark Antony Montana wants for you. Crushed under the weight of other people’s expectations once before, talking to a stuffed cat, probably cuddling with an Android 18 body pillow at night...you’re not cut out for dealing with me. Not right now. Not when I’m this focused on what I want. You’re a prize fighter setting your sights on a prize you can’t win. It doesn’t get worse than that.

Santiago pauses briefly before laughing to herself.

Vanessa Santiago: Nevermind, yes it can. The only thing worse than Antony’s prized possession not doing his one job and bringing home the gold is throwing a man who prioritizes honor in the ring with someone who’s not concerned with that. Yes, I said “someone”, not “two people”. I’m the one you need to be worried about, Pendragon. Humility won’t save you from my fists. Doing the right thing won’t shield you from my feet. You’re doing this for everyone and everything but yourself! “I need to keep the title from the hands of the undeserving, I have to set a good example for my stablemates, I must show the importance of honor…” Have you forgotten what wins matches? All these intangibles you’re worried about? They won’t help you. I’m not surprised of what’s been said by you, a man concerned with unifying the two cultures that compose his bloodline. Funny. You unify, I torch. The hopes and dreams of every single person who dares stand in my way go up in flames whenever I say so. Regardless of whatever group you lead or whatever group’s flag I’m flying, at the end of the day, we’re relying on ourselves to seal this deal. It’s every person for themselves. And no matter what extra meanings or value you assign to what this victory would potentially mean to you, I didn’t come prepared to fail. The white knight can fall on his sword in front of his Shoot Nation buddies and the rest of the world.

As she reaches the end of the hallway where it meets another. Vanessa leans against the wall and shakes her head.

Vanessa Santiago: La Dictadora falls to no one.

Santiago smirks, flashing a Phantom Troupe gun taunt before rounding the corner and disappearing. Fade to black.
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on January 27th 2018, 11:55 pmJaydayne Pendragon
⚔️Whooshing of a sword is heard as a blade cuts through the black and exposes the scene of Jaydayne Pendragon, with his mask on, meditating within a temple. ⚔️

Beauty bloomed, and monuments rose, though many cannot see it, the coming together of our warriors and our spectators as one creates the cherry blossoms and shrines of our time on this land we so adore. We who perform, and you who are performed for, we coexist in an interlocked relationship that could never be messed with, nor duplicated anywhere else in the world with our commitment. I am proud to say that in my first week here I was able to be a part of this, and part of it in a successful way as I ended my first night with all of you with a victory…so much so I couldn’t help but hear a sense of cute jealously⚔️said in a joking manner.⚔️ in my fiancée’s voice as she congratulated me on my successful debut and her best wishes for me and SSW as a whole……But

⚔️Pendragon removes his mask and looks seriously troubled as he looks around.⚔️

I cannot say these times are in complete tranquility, as there are forces who have already set out to throw Strong Style Wrestling off center.

People who have betrayed our purpose…


People who put meaningless personal gain above their role on the roster….


People who in their masquerade have intertwined themselves in the fabric of Strong Style Wrestling…….


These forces of decadence have already taken their pound of flesh, they have already robbed Shoot Nation from a championship, and most importantly robbed Strong Style Wrestling of having a true champion. To say that these forces disturb me would be an understatement, as it should be for every man and woman who competes here, disturbances in your environment can serve no other purpose than to disrupt your chi, poison your mind, and eventually seep into how you act and treat the people around you……if you let it. I won’t. For my own sanity, for the men and women I perform with, and for all of you who support Strong Style Wrestling, I will find and cast out all evils that seek to diminish what we are spreading out there in the world of professional wrestling, I will slice and dice them until they cease to grow out from whatever black muck they come from, until the battle is won the red strife waged upon them will never end.

My opponents this week will be brought to understand this, as the are the very type of individuals that spread the disturbance that I speak of. BANG and Vanessa Santiago, both through their actions andor who they associate with prove that they do not serve the interests of SSW. A man who cheats his own associate, and woman who associates with a group who have made it loud and clear their disrespect and lack of interest for carrying themselves in SSW with any sense of dignity and proper awareness to what makes a company great. They do not understand the blood, sweat, and tears that it takes to set up a truly worthwhile lifestyle in this profession, they only see their ego and malice as beasts meant to be fed in their pursuits. They feed a savage animal, it is true, but soon they’ll find that once you feed that type of animal greater beasts still come about rather quickly for their share of the limited nutrition that all life have. Because justice, honour, and the insatiable desire for a true fight are creatures in of themselves that are raised and nourished by the people of this world, and they too walk with sharp fangs.

BANG you can have your meal ticket serve as your mouth piece all you want, it suits you well to have who decides how you live your life speak for you directly, but this will not save you from the repercussions of what you, YOU, do inside our home.  See people like to think that you’re crazy, someone that Tre Comas Club is too afraid to have come out here without their rich benefactor speaking as your spokesperson, because your insanity would embarrass your collection of hired goons. But considering how shameless Tre Comas Club really is, I can’t help but see it as more so just a tear in the mask, a Freudian slip that you are all acting out by allowing you as its leader to have that fool speak to you. See no one knows what that hustling scam artist is talking about, how your opponents are your bullets yet also cannon fodder that you’re going to shoot at, or how you don’t bleed, so it is altogether pointless to have him come out here as if he’ll bring a point of sense that you can not convey…No the only point for him to come out here is to reveal on its face how much decay and absurdity washes over someone once they allow themselves to become a puppet to the creations that we humans have made and therefore hold the strings. Humans that allow power to wield them instead of wielding it themselves are a lost cause. To be like you would be as if I allowed my sword as a samurai to control me in its hunger for blood, instead of me controlling it for the sake of cutting down my enemies, but you’ll find that unlike you and every insatiability that you represent, I perfectly sound of body and mind.

As for Santiago, while your spunk and training are admirable, everything else about you serves to make an otherwise appealing young lady an eyesore. People run away from people like you in their lives all the time, and unlike Ishimori it has nothing to do with a lack of character, they don’t need to come to observe SSW and be reminded of the types of people they had to leave behind because they were too selfish and anti social to be welcomed members of society. People like you, you always think you’re too assertive, too threatening, and that’s why people don’t like you in your delusions, but the fact of the matter is that people reject those that are too afraid to live their lives without being overbearing and dismissive of others. You’re small, you’re beautiful, and because of that deep down you always had insecurities over if you’d be able to be taken seriously, so you lived your life with this persona of bad attitude and self conceit that beyond your notice removed you from EVER having even the chance to be respected in a real way, so counter productive. That’s how you fall into a group with people like John Doe, who stole a championship from Shoot Nation under dirty circumstances. If one leader goes after a member of one team, it makes perfect sense that the opposing leader would pick out a member to pay back the deed in kind, don’t think that what will happen to you is separate from those that you associate with. I don't know what you seem to think of obligations, but rest assured I always meet mine, and we are obligated to our brothers and sisters. Here in the East, family and associates matter much more than they do in the West, because we as a society function best when the people stand up and make sure that those around them are all standing up straight. If you can’t clean up the mess of your own people here, you get swept up and put out with them.


⚔️End.⚔️

Last edited by Jaydayne Pendragon on January 28th 2018, 12:06 am; edited 1 time in total
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on January 27th 2018, 11:15 pmMasanori Kawada


"ALL-MIGHT" MASANORI KAWADA
Versus Khmaoch Sângkât & Mizuki Nakata (with Candice Blair)
Entry: 2 -- Word Count: 1,403


"I was told from a young age that the elderly possess such great wisdom - tales that would rival the ideals of the greatest of philosophers. That has seemingly gone untrue in the case of Khmaoch Sangkat. Your morals dictated by the scars that have burrowed into your mind, blinded by the ashes of the physical bodies that are now the ghosts of your past. Your words are resemblant to an old fool, misguiding his judgements simply because his philosophies are too stubborn to change and adapt to time. Your judgement towards the men you call stablemates being a shining example. The ties that bind the collective known as the Phantom Troupe is so fragile - easily severed should one's agenda dictate it to be so. And each member is driven by their own agendas, selfish in most cases, desperate in others. Can you really call the men and women that stand to your left and right your comrades? I don't think you honestly can. If you do, you are bearing your fragile organs to the ones carrying the knives they wouldn't hesitate to impale you with. At the end of the day, that is simply what the Phantom Troupe are. Men and women who seek to stand at the very top, hold the company in the palm of their hand. But that isn't a pleasantry that is being intended to be shared amongst them. The individual greeds are far too strong to allow another to stand atop with them, and you know this to be true. But each of you are marionettes, puppets on your strings to the man who pulls them and dictates your future. John Doe says dance and dance you will. Your bonds that keep this collective as one is fictitious, fraudulent to every detail. Your leaders time in the west proves that he holds no one as an ally. He entitles himself as an agent of change, whispering sweet nothings in the ear of a prominent start with tales of grandeur - opportunities that would be made available to him by association. And as those opportunities drew near, trusting the words of the snake that promised him glory, he unsheathed the knife to stab him in the back. Tell me, to what level of bond can one have with such a man who has this kind of history, to use another as a mere pawn he is willing to sacrifice in his games. Or are you so blind to the truth you still wish to wave his flag? I'm sure it is the later, and it is tragic. As soon as he uses you for your worth, he will dispose of you. It is not a matter of if he will, but when he will. But as long as you are willing to bend the knee for him, his sins will become your own burden, and his punishments will be divided amongst those who follow him. The Heritage Championship is only a temporary glory on borrowed time.

Yet you question the bond of the Shoot Nation, that we have no reason or purpose. I wouldn't expect a man of your mindset to understand the concept, even if it stands before his very eyes. The Shoot Nation is nothing if not a group driven by purpose. Each and every member has their own, and unlike the Phantom Troupe, we aren't going to eventually implode and step over each other to fulfil them. Candice has a purpose, to continue her family's lineage through the sport of professional wrestling. Ken Matsuda has a purpose, to be a beacon of hope to those who find themselves at a loss without it. Slug Shakur seeks competition. Satoshi Yoshida like Candice is carrying out his father's legacy in this sport. Tetsuo Miyashiro fights to defend the integrity of the sport we practise. Even our newest recruit in Captain Strong Style seeks to be a role model and prevent scum from being false role models themselves. We may have different forks in the road to our goals, but those goals are the same, and we fight with the same code and ethics that make us one united force. We fight with Valor. We fight for Justice. We fight with Hope. And we fight as the much-needed valiance to keep Strong Style Wrestling going strong into the future. And you questioned, no, downright assumed that this group had no rhyme or reason. Well, you along with your Phantom Troupe have given us one after declaring war in Yokohama. When your leader stuck his nose where it didn't belong, the first shot was fired. And now our rhyme and reason is to fire back, prevent the on-coming chaos and keep them at bay, if not send them in retreat. As long as the Phantom Troupe stands for corruption, the Shoot Nation will always have a purpose to fulfil in SSW and we will not stoop to similar lows to prevail. Those who wave the flag of Justice and Honor may be the ones who take the first bullets in the line of war, but they are not the last to feel the impact of a bullet. When the sound of gunfire ends, it is those who have fought for Justice and Honor that stand tall and triumphant.

When you talk of me, you talk of me with very little understanding. My years under the Ultraman mask were nothing to be ashamed of, in fact to this day I still pay homage to my beginnings in professional wrestling. I saw a good share of success as a premier junior heavyweight in this country and beyond, but the junior heavyweights have a glass ceiling. When I returned, I didn't want to pick up where I left off, I wanted to try my hand at the weight class above, fighting as a heavyweight. So did I come to SSW to reinvent myself? No. I spent the past ten years as a heavyweight, and I found my footing many many years ago. I no longer wear a mask in any regard, the man who walked through that curtain at Yokohama was Masanori Kawada in his purest form; a product of his valor. I hold the ideals of honor and justice sacred, they are no mere excuses for my actions or my defeats. They are what drives me to succeed, to accomplish what I truly came to SSW for, the right to hold the Puroresu Heavyweight Championship, to earn the title of ace that has avoided me for so long. Yet you believe I am making excuses as to my defeat to you for that Heritage Championship? No, I have no excuses to make. The reason I failed to capture that title was not the fault of my own, and I need no excuses to make that accurate claim. You needed a helping hand to become champion, as such you stand as one who is fraudulent, undeserving and cowardly. The stipulation of the match was never a fault. The use of weaponry was all fair game in the battle of wills. You speak of hypocrisy, yet have been speaking nothing but hypocrisy yourself. You are making excuses for John Doe essentially handing you that title because I used a weapon in a match that vindicated it, a meutral understanding we had going in. Must have a nice view in that tower made of glass. You were not built for war, you cracked under the pressure and by hook and crook you managed to escape with the victory, but not by your merit. You are a paper champion and an even more paper soldier of war. The Phantom Troupe are a group of greedy cowards, but this time there is no benefit of an unwelcome helping hand to drag you to victory. The Shoot Nation will earn the triumph they should have earned last week against the Phantom Troupe. You stole that from us, and now we have come to take back what is rightfully ours. Not by your crooked methods, but by handing you the defeat you rightfully deserve. That is the justice that will be served tomorrow night, the justice that will prevail over the corruption you and your band of hooligans and petty thieves brought to our honorable sport. Regardless of who is standing by your side, they will fall with the rest of the Troupe.

So Khmaoch Sângkât... Mizuki Nakata..."
BRACE YOURSELVES!
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on January 27th 2018, 10:11 pmStark
New land - new opportunity. Yet some would dare to argue that things won’t change. That I’m too far gone, too set in my ways; that I’m nothing more than a parody of a joke, a failure dooming himself to another dimension of the same old, same old. Sometimes I wonder if I can even argue those claims. I thought my signing to Strong Style Wrestling would evoke more of a reaction than a scoff from the wrestling fans who I once thought were my fans, laughing at my decision as if I’m some relic of the past trying to make an ill-advised comeback. Is that all it is? My failures from the land across the sea, is that all that’s left to define me? Two failed title runs is appropriate cause to write off my entire career? So what now, you all think I’m nothing more than the sum of my shortcomings? A loser? A has-been? Someone that won’t make it here in the land of the rising sun? A lost cause with no future in Strong Style Wrestling? Whatever words you use to define me, whatever your labels for me are, well, they’re irrelevant. I have one name motherfuckers, and it’s -

Stark.

So maybe I’m not the hottest possible signing to Strong Style Wrestling. Maybe I’m not the most reliable or the most hyped up. But do you know what this company sees in me? Potential. Potential that was squandered by both my own mistakes and factors outside of my control. Potential that has yet to be unlocked, potential that will be brought out by the extremely competitive and rigorous environment native to Japan and by extension, Strong Style Wrestling. I’m leaving the games back in the USA. I’m leaving the weed back in the USA - I really hope the cops hear this and don’t search my new apartment here. I’m leaving the distractions back home. I was too focused on being a rockstar, that I lost my way when it came to competing in the ring. I went from one of the hottest rookies on the scene to becoming a name that was never said not preceding a sigh of disappointment.

Disappointment is a word I’m sick of hearing. I own it, I really do, but enough is enough. Still, I’m no fool. I’m not the kind of man that yells into a cloud expecting things to change - I’m going to be the catalyst for my own career. Every low expectation I will shatter, every naysayer I will shut up, and every stupid, sorry, sack of shit who steps across the ring from me thinking they’re in for an easy ride because “Oh, it’s just Stark” I will kick and knee in the face until they stop moving, then kick them some more while they’re down. Edgy, right? It’s the new tattoos.

Now despite what public opinion of Stark may be, it’s clear that the suits in the back running this whole Strong Style Wrestling operation actually have a good brain on their shoulders! I’ve been given the distinction of leading the faction known as ‘Ronin’, and we have Shark Man. Oh boy.

The mysterious Tres Comas Club is who’s stepping into the ring with Ronin this week. To my partners, I see potential in Shark Man to break through the mold I’m sure everyone would be happy to put him in, as nothing more than a joke. And well, then there’s GOD HIMSELF, Levi Maximus, who went so far as to call me an incredible leader. Color me pink homie, I’m flattered. But Levi is right - Ronin is the perfect mesh of the undesirables and those flying under the radar, and this Saturday is when we raid this place like a storm. Andre Virgo, another rising star, who dares me to not get in his path to greatness. Well Andre, as much as I want you to succeed, the fact is this - you’re eventually going to step into MY path to greatness, and when that time comes, that’s when you need to worry about who’s going to break who. Empty threats don’t phase me, I’ve heard them from men who have accomplished ten times as much as you have, and even then, they fail to deliver. You have a long way to go before you can consider yourself on my level Andre, whatever you’ve seen of my failures be damned. And if you don’t believe that now you’ll quickly learn once you step into the ring with me at the Sumo Hall.

Maximus Grier, I saw what you did to Ryojin last week. I’m impressed, plain and simple. But am I impressed enough? I’ve shared the ring with your brother before Max, and let me say, underwhelming is the first word that comes to mind. The intimidating and mighty Lars Grier couldn’t handle more than one knee to the back of the head, and that’s all it took to pin his sorry ass. Are you as fragile Max? Are you going to make me wonder what the hell all the hype was about, or are you going to live up to it? Are you going to be the superior Grier come Saturday, or are you going to show me that failure simply runs in the family? Jun Nobunaga… I’m going to literally fucking rip your skin off and wear it after I’m done with you. Okay?

This week is not only my in-ring debut for SSW, but my first go-around at leading my comrades in Ronin. Despite whatever people may think about this rag-tag group of individuals, I actually feel nothing short of pride when I look at who stands by me in this faction. We’re not the strongest, we’re not the most dangerous, nor we do have billionaires betting on us and funding us. We have something that no other faction in this company can touch - heart. So I don’t care if I’m seen as a failure. I don’t care that Shark Man and Steven Cassidy may be seen as jokes. They can call us ‘gaijins’ in their ever-so demeaning way, but you know what? We’ll take that. We’ll take all of that in stride and throw it back at all the haters with interest. Because in the end the biggest thing I’ve learned in my eight years in the professional wrestling business is that people who talk shit can’t follow through, and people who resolve to stay resilient always outlast every flashy flash in the pan with a shelf-life shorter than Nutella in France.

What are you gonna do? Shower us in hundred dollar bills? Nah. You’re going to see exactly what makes us Ronin - we’ll fight through any obstacle, we’ll take this company by storm, and we’ll do it the Ronin way - TOGETHER. Starting with these three sorry fucks tomorrow night.
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on January 27th 2018, 9:17 pmThe One True Pairing


BANG is shown sitting on a chair in an unknown room, presumably somewhere backstage at the next Strong Style Wrestling event. His hair covering his face as he whispers to Minerva in his hands. Mark Montana paces around the chair. After several moments, Mark stops behind BANG, putting a hand on his shoulder.

Mark: … It is almost time. You know what to do, yes?

BANG says nothing, nodding.

Mark: Good. That’s good. You have come so very far from where you were when I found you. You remember those days, don’t you? When you had nothing? When all your hard work and effort were squandered? Don’t worry. You don’t need to worry about all of that anymore. You don’t need to worry about what these people think of you. You don’t need to worry about what they expect of you. They fear you, Ban. They fear you, as they fear the unknown. They cannot comprehend what you’ve become, and that sends a shiver down their spines. They’ve spent their entire lives believing the people they would run into along the way would be no different than them when the come down to it. They expected an opponent that thought like them, that bleeds like them, and an opponent that dies just as they will. But you? No man thinks as you do. No woman understands the way you think. You do not bleed. And you… You do not die. You live in the back of their minds, and you will for the rest of their lives, long as you’re gone. That is why I’ve invested in you. They all fear what they cannot understand, and you know what comes next?

Mark leans down with a determined look upon his face.

Mark: They panic. They fear, and they panic, and they make mistakes. They operate no longer on logic, but on simply trying to survive by any means. They become irrational when they find themselves cornered by a predator like you, and what do they do? They lash out, and they become… Desperate. Jaydane Pendragon.

BANG (whispering): Jaydayne Pendragon.

Mark: Vanessa Santiago.

BANG (whispering): Vanessa… Santiago.

Mark: Never forget those names. The rest of the World won’t. They’ll remember those names for years to come. Every single time they think of where BANG began, they will look at those two names as the two victims that fell before you when the chips were down and the gold was on the line. They aren’t the first, my friend, and they will not be the last. Not by any means. Do you know them? Do you know who they are? What they look like? Where they came from? What they want? Why they do what it is they do? What they have done?

BANG shakes his head.

Mark: It doesn’t matter. All of it does not matter. They’re just names, and that’s all they ever will be. The cold, hard reality of things is that they’re nothing short of dogs in our eyes. In the eyes of Tres Comas Club, there is simply us, and then there is everyone else. They do not have the resources we have. They do not have the talent we have. They have NOTHING. Do you know why they got here and have the opportunity to challenge for this gold? Because they were fortunate enough to not stand before you last week to qualify for this match. It’s sheer luck that they’ve come this far, but when the bell has rung, their luck… Their fortune… It runs out. No more breaks. No more shortcuts. But of course, they will do everything within their power to stop you. You are a threat to them. They stand before you and begin to question every decision they ever made in life that brought them to that moment, and in a contest such as this, they will option to ally with one another. They share a common sense of desperation to succeed. It’s all they’ve ever had to survive up until now. They will use it to get rid of you by any means necessary, and you will not let that happen. Do you understand? You stand above them both in every category. You were chosen. They weren’t. They belong to groups that thrive not on success, but on petty goals that never meant anything, not now, not before, and not after it’s all gone. They look at you and wonder why you don’t belong to a group of rogues like Ronin. They look at you and believe you could stand with the Phantom Troupe. They see what you do in the ring and believe you should be a part of Shoot Nation. You will show them why you stand in Tres Comas Club. You take power. You make money. You will be famous for it, my friend. Make no mistake.

Mark stands back up.

Mark: You know what you must do. Beat them. Hurt them. Kill them. It doesn’t matter. Whatever the consequences are, we will take care of them. No need to ever worry about such trivial things. You are the villain of this story, and if you believe in your mind there will be a hero that comes along to stop you, then do so, but this is not that day. That day will not come for a long time. Until that day, you will destroy, and you will conquer, and you will take whatever you want. Jaydayne will not stop you. Vanessa will not stop you. Nobody. They’re no more to you than canon fodder upon your playground that’s known as Strong Style Wrestling. They’re just bullets, and you hold the gun.

BANG: Bullets…

BANG looks at his hand, forming his fingers into the shape of a gun.

Mark: That’s right. And come tomorrow, you will shoot them. Both of them. You will get them out of your way. Out of our way. You will take that gold for us. You will make them remember who you are, my friend. Not just tomorrow. No the day after that. Not the next week, year, or century. Forever. Show them who you are. Show them why you’re here. Show them that the Tres Comas Club is real. Show them.

BANG admires the gun gesture he’s making. After a few moments, BANG pretends to blow smoke off of the barrel of it as the camera cuts to black.

on January 27th 2018, 9:06 pmGuest
(The scene opens into Tetsuya Ishimori walking through the halls of the Yokohama Arena. A white towel is draped around the back of the neck of Ishimori as he walks with his back turned to the camera. Suddenly, a reporter rushes past and into the camera’s view, trying his hardest to capture his attention.)

Reporter: Mr. Ishimori, sir! Sir! I need to ask some questions concerning what we just saw.

(Ishimori stops and you can hear him take a deep breath. He looks back over his shoulder with his eyes closed.)

Ishimori: What about it.

Reporter: You were afforded the opportunity to advance and compete for the Jr. Heavyweight Championship next week --

Ishimori: And?

Reporter: Some people in this company would have killed for that chance - all you did was simply walk away from the opportunity.

Ishimori: I didn't come to this company with the intention of settling for something I'm above; I said it last week - I'm here to become the biggest star in all of Japan. How am I meant to accomplish that by placing my attention on something like that Jr. Heavyweight Championship? I'm sure that BANG would be more than happy to take that championship and do whatever he wants with it.

(The reporter looks on a little confused before hesitantly asking the next question.)

Reporter: Some people are saying that you ran from Vanessa…

Ishimori: Let them say what they like. They're always going to find a reason to talk.

(Ishimori looks to walk away again, but the reporter cuts him off.)

Reporter: Your match for the next show has been announced.

Ishimori: Against?

Reporter: Satoshi Yoshida.

Ishimori: Another bright eyed kid looking for the chance to turn themselves into a star.

Reporter: What do you plan to do?

Ishimori: That's an answer you'll get when the time comes.

Reporter: Can we… at least get a word about the man?

Ishimori: What do you want me to say? I hope we go out there and have the match of our careers! No. If this company wants to try to feed me trash, I'll start treating them like it. I'll walk in, put the man down and go on with my night without breaking a sweat. Now, leave me alone.

(Ishimori walks off as the camera feeds cuts.)
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on January 27th 2018, 8:14 pmSaul Omen
The Song of Saul Omen: Chapter III


[Lit candles appear inside of a cathedral, darkened by the aura that has surrounded the man that sits before the pulpit with his legs crossed at the worship of his deity, before he rises up to his feet. The darkness that surrounds the man starts to recoil back inside of himself, allowing the man time to make sure that his suit and tie looks fantastic, as the back is shown to have the logo of The Phantom Troupe before he turns around. You can almost see the sight of the beast that lies dormant inside of him, a glare from his eyes that’s unnatural to even look upon, before the familiar face of Saul Omen is revealed. Saul brings forth a scowl as he rolls his head around, right before a smirk is shown on his face, breathing in heavily to calm himself.]

Saul Omen: The world saw the birth of Saul Omen in Strong Style Wrestling and how was this birth brought to the entire world to bare witness to? The death of a God. The death of a God plagued with pride and I showed the glory that my God has gifted unto me to be one of the most ruthless warriors inside of that ring. Now, I have sapped the potential and the talent that Levi Maximus has had stored within him, delivered it unto my deity and let me tell you, it was pleased at the offering that I presented unto him. Pride that plagued the soul of Levi Maximus to the core that it was a corruption that had him brought to his knees before a true pure malevolent force. It was a succulent taste for Death that it demands more, but with a different flavor. A different flavor of two men that have decided to stand against the powerful aura of Death and my brother of this group that I have been thrown into called “The Phantom Troupe” in the man with no name, John Doe. I know that these men and women that have been gathered around the idea of joining forces for the complete benefit of their own personal goals while bringing chaos and anarchy onto the entire roster, I enjoy that. The madness and mayhem that is brought through the work of The Phantom Troupe brings glory to the name of Death and allows for the potential of greater tributes for his name. Even if these men find my belief to be a fantasy, they find that Death is just a part of this cycle called life and nothing more, they still are what will lead to the great success for my deity and the mission we have to bring glory to his name. John Doe, he’s a man that I have to respect because he does go through with his intentions, unlike most on this roster. He challenges the ideal of hero, makes a conflict between the terms of righteousness and wickedness, and I believe that to be a courageous effort on his front. The man has no desire for golden plaques to hold on his shoulder, no desire to have his name screamed from the adoring sheep that flock towards the next great hero, but a man on a mission that he intends to see through. How can you not respect a man like that? For the tactics that he implements? For the way that he’s made a target out of shining knights in the eyes of the beholder? Heroes are a fantasy that there is an inherent good within every man’s soul, but they choose to be blind to the darkness that is with every man’s heart. When Saul Omen and his talents gifted upon him by Death itself descends onto the two poor souls of Ronin, outcasts of society that rally around this manifest of unity, the darkness shall feast upon them to divide that unity they share. The innocence and courage of Steven Cassidy, the determination and hunger of Koji Senju, it shall all be absorbed through the punishment and utter annihilation inflicted upon them and served as tribute to Death. Steven Cassidy, Koji Senju, you have been placed on the wrong side of this war and now, Death shall cast his swift judgment upon you!

[Saul Omen gives a confident glare with the knowledge that his partnership with The Phantom Troupe’s enigmatic leader in John Doe shall prove to be impeccable in this fight, turning himself back towards the lit candles to where he takes his crossed leg pose again, humming to where the darkness starts to envelop once more to prepare for another chance to serve tributes to his deity.]
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on January 27th 2018, 2:57 pmSon of Ra



You are the son of a legend...

I am the son legend speaks of...

And that will prove the deciding factor in our CONFLICT!

Oh yaaasss it will Kenneth Matsuda, for you know nothing of true legend in this world. Your father may have been a legend in puroresu but he is not a legend in the other world, in the true land where kings and Gods do battle, where the rivers flow with purified waters that seep into the Nile. You sip from filth compared to that Kenneth, and so did your father unbeknownst to his stature. AAAHHHHHHH but I do have news for you dear mortal, oh it is grand news indeed. You will see the waters, you will get to dip at least one toe in them before the Gods know that you are in their domain. After that you will be cast down into the Duat! But in that purified moment in the field of reeds, you get to experience the land of my father, you get to see the Sun, YOU SEE THE ENTITY KNOWN AS RA!!! You then get to feel his glow, and as he sees that you have invaded his domain he wil raise his mighty spear and IGNITE his mighty blaze, and INCINERATE you!!! But Kenneth you do not just get to feel the mighty blaze of the one who helped create the once in a millennium being who stands here to speak to a normal mortal like yourself. For before you feel the fire, you will see that this sport of mortal gladiators with heightened drama and admiration from the spectators in this Colosseum holds no bars and prisoners. And you will fall from that pedestal you think you are on when I bring the weight of the world down upon you. You are no Atlas, you know nothing about the way to position a planet across ones shoulder blades. 

OOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHH you do not know about that indeed young Kenneth Matsuda! So feed off the kinetic energy from your fingertips to the guitar that might have the same components as one invisibility cloak, or a jet of invisibility! But that will not save you, no amount of energy will help you escape from the pain and turmoil your body and mind will endure tomorrow. So feel free to run, feel free to hide, and pray as well Kenneth, for nothing on this plane of existence will keep me from proving to the Gods that I belong in the field of reeds along side them. My heart will not be weighed on the scales of Anubis like a common man, and the feather will not determine the fate of I, Atem Octavian Amun-Ra. But the feather will decide your fate Kenneth, ooohhhhhhh yyyaaassss, the pen is mightier than a sword, and the feather will be heavier than the heart if one truly deserves to be in the field of reeds. But if you would like to know your fate Kenneth I can tell you right now. You will walk the Duat after Anubis sees that the feather judges your heart and reveals that you sir are not PURE enough to walk in the path of the gods. A vile plague will fall over you and your family if you dishonor the legend of your father Kenneth, but a plague will fall over all mankind if the deity who presided over my birth a millennia ago sees that I have failed him. All of Egypt, all of the world that sees the waters of the Nile will fall ill, and the little dogs of their children will suffer as well! And I for one will not let the children of the Nile, or their canine companions fall ill because a man of your stature would have defeated me. 

So prepare yourself Mr. Matsuda, prepare for the ultimate conflict of your human life. And when you look upwards to the lights of the arena, and you see the glow that is as bright as the Egyptian sun above you, you will know that the blaze cannon has been ignited and the Rage of Ra is upon you. And as you take that final breathe before we begin the wrappings and you see the scales and Anubis before you, know that I...The Last of the Ancients, The Great Atem Octavian Amun-Ra has sent you to your doom. So prepare, prepare for your IMPRISONMENT in the SARCOPHAGUS of OBLIVION!!!! For on the 28th Day of the 1st Month of the Year 2018...



YOU WILL BE MUMMIFIED!!! OOOOHHHHHHH YYYYYAAAAASSSSSSS
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on January 27th 2018, 2:44 pmKhmoach Sangkat
RISING SUN: I


Heritage

Legacy

Blood

Each of these are fine reasons to answer the call of war. They are bonds which are at once stronger and more reliable than those purchased by coin, and also more tangible, more substantial than any platitude so thin and ethereal as “honour” or “justice”. And yet these true values are so often overlooked. It astounds me sometimes. I mean… What sense is there in the hounds of justice waging for for their honour? After all, in war honour and justice always take the first bullets. And by the same token, is it not insanity that possesses the billionaires’ dogs to fight for fortune when war itself carries such a terrible cost? I suppose there are worse things. Those who align themselves with Shoot Nation or the Tres Comas Club may have instead found themselves living as Ronin. That is, without creed, nor master, nor any true semblance of purpose. To fight and to suffer for a phantom premise is evil enough a thought, but to do so without rhyme nor a reason at all… that is surely the purest form of tragedy. The other factions that vie for domination of SSW are doomed by their own stated missions. But the Phantom Troupe, we see the truth. Although we each may have our individual agendas to fulfill, the ties that bind us are ultimately the strongest and most reliable. Heritage. Legacy. Blood. When the drums of war thunder around us and its beacons burn with hellish fire, these are our heavenly virtues and our guiding principles. As long as this remains true, we shall no stand to be victims. We are not heroes and neither in truth are we villains. We are merely what we were born to be. We are, as Vanessa Santiago might proffer, dictators - born to rule. As my partner this week, Mizuki Nakata, we are the legacy of generations refined. And myself and Saul Omen especially, we are the surviving sons of fallen fathers. Souls baptised in blood. Bound by it. Who, everywhere we wander, stare death directly in the eye, hear his terrible song and heartily sing along in chorus, raising our voices to this requiem for a dream. One could even say our leader, the enigmatic John Doe, is alike in this sense. On the surface he is an odd fit. A man whose very name and history is kept closely guarded against his chest. Yet, is it not the most precious treasures which are most carefully hidden? Or perhaps the darkest secrets that should never suffer to break out? In the brief time that I have known him, I am already beginning to see that John Doe is a man who knows his vital place in the order of things. Yet, more importantly than this, he understands just how powerful this knowledge is.

Alas, not everyone is to be so wisened. You, Kawada, are the perfect example. It is telling that, right from the very fore, the most successful years of your career came when fighting not as yourself but under a 3rd hand mask passed down from a half baked Kaiju movie. Yet, despite this success at Jr level, it was never enough was it? It never satisfied you nor truly fit correctly. Now here you are at Strong Style Wrestling still halfway in the process of reinventing yourself. Reinvention because you have not given up the mask, only traded it for another. Rather than simply doing what must be done, you continue to hide behind this veil of falsity, behind the excuse… or the excuses of “justice” and “honour”. You were warned Kawada. I thought we had an understanding. “This is war”! We both acknowledged it as such but only one seems to have understood what that means. I told you beforehand. In war, Justice always takes the first bullet but you shrugged it off. That is your sin, not mine Kawada. I am not like you, that is what you failed to recognise. I do not speak in vain platitudes. My words have meaning. They carry weight. When such heavy stones are tossed, one would do well to heed them or to… As you say… Brace Yourself! And yet, even now you continue to pollute the air with excuses. What occured on our first collision was “just” insofar as not a single law or written edict was broken. Perhaps it offends your arbitrary “honour” but even so, the stipulations did not offend your honour when it suited your purpose, only when it didn’t. May I remind you that neither Masanori Kawada nor any member of Shoot Nation when you spoiled a pure, clean fight by being the first to introduce a foreign object from under the ring. You were only up in arms when the Phantom Troupe responded in kind by introducing a “foreign object” of our own. Yet, we only exercised the right we had been afforded. We saw the situation for what it is and accepted it for what it is. Meanwhile the honour and sense of justice that you hide behind in defeat is nothing more than petulant hypocrisy. You were not prepared for war and you paid the price, it is as simple as that.

As for I, I do not harbor any guilt. Truth be told, I have slept more softly in my sheets this past week than I have in perhaps decades. The aches and pains of years have been numbed in gratitude. And I feel some blessed peace has found my my father’s spirit and mine alike. By I shan’t make a mistake. This is only the beginning. The fires of war will continue to rage and I am sure that we will meet in that ring many times over. There are conquests to be had, blood to bleed and regretful nightmares lying in wait to torment us all with sleepless nights. But it is what it is. This week I stand alongside the prized scion of the Nakata Dynasty. Born out of the shadows of the past, we emerge to spirit away with those precious things. Every unimportant pain or urge is transient and incorporeal. And so we are indestructible. Our ghostlike ambitions ever undying so as to haunt your days and pierce your veil of conceit. Not even the Ava sister can help you here, Kawada. No number of misguided fools bearing the bearing the mark of Shoot Nation can dance with the Phantom Troupe along to the jarring rhythms of this discordant system.

This is the pride of our heritage,
The inherited legacy of our forefathers’ wills,
The right of our blood.
Nothing else matters.
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on January 27th 2018, 7:01 amShark Man
Shell Yeah, Shark Man is going to make his debut in SSW. I also have to say that this is the first time ever I will wrestle in Japan. I’m not afraid though because I’m The Sea’s Toughest Son of a Fish and I along with the rest of Ronin Fishes are going to take SSW by the storm. Everyone will love that, yay.

I’m going to make my debut where I have Stark and Levi Maximus in my side. They both are tough fishes as well, they are as strong as bulls, fast as hell, and tough as nails. They will burn every single ugly fishes with ease. Oh Shell Yeah, Ronin will kick Andre Virgo, Maximus Grier, and Jun Nobunaga right in the asses.

Well, apparently, Andre Virgo has opened his mouth and I have to say, he’s just a straight up dummy. I join Ronin because I love every single one of them. If you were in Ronin, I will love you too Andre, but that’s not the case. I don’t hate you or Grier, or Nobunaga for that matter though, but we have to beat you all this week. Don’t worry, I will still give you all my Clam Juices.

And That’s The Fishin Line....Cause Shark Man said so!
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on January 26th 2018, 7:24 pmSteven Cassidy
[The following scene takes place right after Steven's match against Koji. Steven is immediately met by his trainer, Bruce Whitmore.]


••I feel ashamed. There's no other way to put it. My first match in Strong Style Wrestling, in front of thousands of screaming passionate fans, and I let them down. They wanted to see more from me. They deserved to see more. What transpired out there in the middle of the ring was my nightmare scenario come to life. I wanted to have a decent showing at least. To give the fans a glimpse of what I can bring to the table. I guess it's back to the drawing board for me. In other news, this ice pack on the back of my neck feels nice. The coldness takes my mind off from the match. Even if it's just for a bit. It gives me an escape. It calms me. But that all goes out the window as I see Bruce standing before me. I know he's going to let me have it. I have no other choice but to listen to him.••


Steven: Look, Bruce, I know I screwed up but—


Bruce: Hey rook, let me stop you right there. Don't do that. Don't be so hard on yourself. What you accomplished out there? I'm proud of it. 


Steven: Wait really? 


Bruce: Oh yeah! I mean if I was deaf, dumb, and blind child like you, I doubt I could have done much better than you Number 9!!


Steven: Ohhhh..


Bruce: What? You want me to coddle you and your precious little feelings? Be some supportive dad and tell you I'm proud of you even though you f***** up? No, you disappointed me. What you did out there, that wasn't even wrestling. No, what you did was you went out to that ring in front of thousands of fans, squatted down, and took a big ol' s*** on the canvas. That was by far the worst performance I have ever seen. Did you even get a lick of offense in? Did you land a single punch? 


Steven: I uh, I don't know.


Bruce: WHAT WAS THAT, ROOK? I COULDN'T HEAR YOU! SPEAK UP! 


Steven: No, I didn't land a punch. 


Bruce: F****** pathetic. But you know what? This is my fault. 


••Bruce stays silent, giving me the signal to comment and ask why he thinks it's his fault but I'm honestly afraid to do so because I obviously know it's a trap. I just want this day to end. I want to get out of here. Go to my hotel room and hide my shame under the covers. But Bruce is having none of it.••


Steven: How is it your fault? 


Bruce: I've been too easy on you. I knew I shouldn't have been so nice to you. You f****** took my kindness for granted. No more mister nice guy. Once this show is over and the arena empties I want you running up those stairs until you pass out, do you hear me? Oh and that's just the tip of the iceberg. Once you faint to the ground I'll pour cold a** water on you to wake you back up so you can run 200 suicides followed by 150 up downs on the hard concrete floor. Don't you dare give me that look! You did this to yourself. Now go to the locker room and think about how badly you screwed up, you complete and utter worthless piece of s***. Go on. I want you out of my line of vision before I finish the job Koji started. 


••Yep, that went about as well as I could have expected. But what he said worries me. Before my match, that was him being nice? He can get meaner and angrier? What have I signed up for?••


[This next part takes place current day at some gym. Steven meets Bruce who looks at his watch.]


Bruce: Tell me rook, what time is it? 


Steven: 8:30 AM..


Bruce: Yep, you're late. 


Steven: How am I late? You told me to meet you here at 9. 


Bruce: Yeah when I give you a time, I expect you here two hours early. How badly do you want this, huh?


Steven: This? What's this? 


Bruce: I'm talking about success! How badly do you want it? Apparently not as badly as you want sleep! You do realize that while you're sleeping in, just about every single wrestler on the Strong Style Wrestling roster is out and about, improving themselves in any way they can, right? Just don't. You opened your mouth, meaning you think you have a proper response to what I said, but you don't. See this camera? I'm filming your promo this week. 


Steven: Why? Where's the cameraman from last week? 


Bruce: Isn't it obvious? SSW is ready to give up on you already. Last week, you showed nothing. The cameramen aren't going to waste their time with someone who will most likely get the pink slip any day now. So here I am, going the extra mile to help you out! You're welcome. Aaaaaand action! 


••Once again, I don't feel prepared. This is last week all over again, if not worse. Bruce is right, after my terrible performance last week, I've added more pressure to myself. I have to rebound this week, to give Brian Daniels confidence that he made the right decision when he hired me. I'm also grateful that Bruce is helping out, he deserves a handshake.••


Bruce: First of all, I'm recording. What is with you and wanting to shake everyone's hand you freak? Now please, wipe that blank look on your face off and let your opponents have it! 


Steven: Hi again, it's Steven here again! I just used the word again twice in that sentence, didn't I? Yup, I sure did. So um here I am, on a Friday. Today is Friday right? Yep it is! I'm uhhh I'm here to talk about my match this week. Yeah, that's right! A tag match. So I'll have a partner and we'll face two opponents. Two v. two. Four total people. Divided into two teams. Should hopefully be exciting and whatnot. So the cat has already been let out of the bag.. I'm facing John Doe and Saul Omen this week, oh boy. Like I get we are going to fight each other and stuff but I really hope this match doesn't come between us and ruin a potential friendship. Yeah, that wouldn't be ideal. But John Doe, my man, you did a bad thing last week. To make things worse, you never apologized for what you did which is pretty messed up. Do you have no honor? 


Bruce: Zzzzzzzz, boring. I think I can speak for John Doe when I say he doesn't care. He doesn't have morals, so what? He sees professional wrestling for what it is... a cutthroat world. Feelings? Emotions? Leave em at the door. Between those ropes you need to be a cold-blooded killer. Something you will eventually learn. 


Steven: That right there is what I fear most. I've watched professional wrestling all my life. Meaning I've seen all the twists and turns and betrayals. This business changes people and I don't want that to happen to me. So I don't want to end up like John Doe, with all due respect. Is he talented? Sure. I'm not here to dispute that. But I don't want my ego to overpower me. Just like I don't want to put myself first, which I know, that might be a foolish thing to say. Everybody is here to collect accolades and build a resume to prove they are one of the best in the world today. I too would like to one day wear a championship around my waist. But I want to do it the right way. I don't want to have any doubts. I want to be able to look at myself in the mirror and be proud of my achievement. John Doe robbed that from Khmoach. But I'm sure he doesn't care. I'm sure the shine from his title blinds him from reality and clouds his better judgment. They are both a part of The Phantom Troupe after all, so I'm willing to guess John and Khmoach share a similar mindset. Just like my partner this week and fellow Ronin member, Koji, we have the same code of honor instilled in us. 


Bruce: Holy f***, you didn't stutter for like two minutes! That's a personal best. 


Steven: Oh why would you bring that to my attention? Now I'm going to think about it, hoping I don't trip all over my words. I forget what I was going to talk about. Umm, Bruce, can you help?


Bruce: What am I? A lifeline? Is this Who Wants To Be A Millionaire? Call me and I hang up on you. Poll the audience and I'm going to purposely chose the wrong answer. I'm not Regis Philbin you dope. 


Steven: Hey whatever happened to Regis? 


Bruce: Can you f*****g focus? 


Steven: Right. I was talking about my match. Oh yeah I was talking to John Doe. So look John, you're right. You're right when you say I had an awful showing last week. A match that many would assume I'd want to forget. But no. I want that memory burning in my brain. I relive that embarrassment every single day. It's the first thing I think of when I wake up in the morning and it's the last thing I think about when I shut my eyes at night. Mistakes will happen. I am human after all and I will learn from this mistake. I will get stronger. And I will be better. I mean I can't do much worse than last week right? Oh god I hope not. But umm, if you think you have me all figured out, then you are more ignorant than I thought. This is week two of Strong Style Wrestling. We are very much still in the feeling out process. So therefore, I think it's way too early to sort the contenders from the pretenders. Who knows, maybe Koji Senju is the best professional wrestler on this roster. He can make any man look like a complete and utter fool between those ropes. I would know, since he put me away with ease. That's what he's been doing his entire career. I've seen his highlights and I can confidently say that he is the real deal. And that right there is why I aligned myself with him. I hang onto his every word. When he is willing to share his wisdom and insights on what it takes to be one of the best, I lend my ear and I listen closely and carefully. I absorb all of his lessons. I know that as of right now, I have my work cut out for me. I'm not a John Doe. I was never good enough to make it to that other major wrestling company that you landed on. And that's fine. I don't want to be the next John Doe.  I don't want to be the next anybody. I want to be my own man. I want to carve my own legacy. And like I already stated before, I'm going to do it my way, by staying true to myself. I would rather lose like I did last week for the remainder of my time in SSW, whether I'm here for the next decade or if I'm just here for a cup of coffee, then take shortcuts like you, John. You can laugh it off. Scoff at my words. Question my thought process. Whatever you want. 


Bruce: ..Ok, and? 


Steven: That's it. 


Bruce: Thought you were about to say something badass. Like, John you can laugh at me all you want, let it all out now because come Sunday night it's going to be difficult for you to make any sound after I knock your teeth down your throat. 


Steven: Oh no, I'm just saying he can laugh or scoff at me if he wants. It's his choice. 


Bruce: You're such a p****y. What about your other opponent, Saul? 


Steven: I don't really know much other than he defeated my friend and fellow Ronin member, Levi. 


Bruce: Okay I can help. So basically he was or still is in a cult. His dad killed his mom. He then prayed his dad would die. Then he started training and s***. So go. 


Steven: Wait what? A cult? I just watched a documentary on Jonestown. Oh um, I gotta go. I have this thing. Can't be late for it. 


Bruce: What? 


Steven: Yeah uhhhh see you later. 


[The End]
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on January 26th 2018, 12:29 pm中田水木

So, here we go. We're going outside JET now and this time, I'm going to fight some men as well. This is not a new scenery for me. I am always trying new things and it works really well for me. Even JET has hosted one Ultraviolent event only for me even though that place is most likely only for pure wrestling, they did it anyway. And I am enjoying it, I am enjoying every single challenge they laid it on me. This is a brand new one so I am so down for this. JET might be making my name big as I already become a multi-time champion, single or tag but when I spread my wings even wider to fight all those talented wrestlers around the world, then I can have as many experiences as I can. of course, I am always up for this challenge.

This time I am facing someone who comes from America only to feel how wrestling is one sacred sport in Japan. I read some biography of her that Miss Candice Blair is someone who comes from a famous Ava family. I think her sister is wrestling in EAW with Zakkii-san, I guess? Yeah, I think they are. Well, it's good to have someone fighting as a representative of their family, like I do. I am fighting with the name of my family who is already esteemed all across Japan. I might be fighting differently than them, but I keep proving that the family will always get used to any kind of style as the era keep moving. They maybe can keep their "stuck-in-the-past" attitude but not for me! I am a versatile one, I can do whatever style that I want and still, I am keeping the legacy of the bloodline with my style. I don't know the intention of Miss Blair fighting here. I might see it next when I fight here, but that is mine. I made my intention clear to all of you.

And her partner is someone who is already in this business for so long. He's already getting in this industry way before I was even born. Mr. Sawada is a veteran and he might be fighting my father in early 90s or something. Yeah, with all that old-school wrestling they were showcasing of course. But here, in the present day. 2018, the time where everything has to be versatile. You are good at one thing, but also have to be good in another thing as well. I am trying to achieve that. I fought a wrestler in the kawaii division, fought against those ultraviolent guys in some deathmatches, and now I am fighting someone from America and one veteran. I can do all those at once, I am not a picky person that have to stuck just for one thing. So, Bring it on, two of you. I want some challenge and I am here to win that challenge to prove that I am good in all terrain.

Eeh, I am hanging out with this Phantom Troupe guys only for fun. It's not that I don't really like them or anything. They are good and always giving me a lot of advice when I go to that ring. I get a lot of knowledge from them even I know those crowds are not really on their side but eh, I am taking their lesson anyway. I need some guidance and they give them to me. Of course, I am going to humbly accept it because knowledge is always a good thing for us anyway. So yeah, I am here, ready for my debut and I am going to show you who I am with style.... My own style! See you guys out there!
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on January 26th 2018, 11:34 amMasanori Kawada


"ALL-MIGHT" MASANORI KAWADA
Versus Khmaoch Sângkât & Mizuki Nakata (with Candice Blair)
Entry: 1 -- Word Count: 1,163


"Failure is a hard pill to swallow. I came to SSW to be the absolute justice - to prosecute those who bring a threat to the future of this company. I made a mistake. I made a mistake thinking that SSW couldn’t be harbouring such hooligans at such an early stage of its existence. Sure enough, I paid the price for making such a foolish mistake. I believed Khmaoch Sângkât was the seed of evil that would bring about the corruption of that locker room what with his anarchist ideals and threats to hold down this company as some form of relief from his pasts clutch on his moral compass. Only to find out the seed has already sprouted its roots into the grounds this company is forged on. And that seed of evil that was planted goes by the alias of John Doe. A self-righteous vigilante who justifies their wrongdoings as being the acts of an agent of change. It turns out that the rest of the Phantom Troupe are but the roots that are trying to suck the life out of this company until there is nothing left but an empty husk, all the while John Doe wrings his hands as he watches the carnage he has started play out. I can't speak for the rest of my faction, my Shoot Nation stablemates, but the Phantom Troupe needs to be pulled out of this company's ground by the roots before it terraforms SSW into a land of chaos and anarchy. And then after the roots are pulled from the earth all that is left is to destroy the seed. I don't care what John Doe's philosophies are, how he justifies his unjust actions, eventually I will prosecute him for the wrongdoings he sparked in Yokohama at my expense. On that night, when defeat was imminent to Khmaoch Sângkât after the K-Dynamite, John Doe intervened and cost myself as well as my Shoot Nation cohorts the honor of being the first to hold the SSW Heritage Championship. Every member of the Shoot Nation knew the implications of that match, No Disqualifications essentially being an open door for whoever wanted to try and tip the scales in their favor. We knew that fact and each of them swore to me that they would not interfere, we would not stoop to that low for the sake of glory. And they have all earned my respect for keeping to that promise. But it was foolish of me to think that common thieves would hold a similar honor. That mistake cost us the Heritage Championship, and I feel ashamed to have let this crime against us play out.

But it will not go unpunished.

Although I do not speak on their behalf in their own conflicts, I DO speak on behalf of the Shoot Nation faction when I say we will not be taking this injustice lying down. With his actions in Yokohama, John Doe and his Phantom Troupe undelings have declared war against the Shoot Nation. It is the time I live up to the nickname-sake of the Absolute Justice. Every member that follows the man waving the Phantom Troupe flag are guilty by association and will be prosecuted swiftly. Until it is his time to face the strong arm of justice himself. And the unrooting begins at Ryōgoku Sumo Hall on the 28th.

My partner for the evening in Candice Blair has every right to be concerned. After the events of the Heritage Championship match, she has every right to believe that my crosshairs are sighted solely on Khmaoch Sângkât as a form of personal redemption for thieving the title. If I were a man driven by such selfish desires as revenge, that would be the case. I can assure her this is no personal path of redemption, at least not one that I will be taking alone. The Phantom Troupe has declared war, and I know the Shoot Nation isn't going to shy away from facing them head-on. And with Candice herself, she stepped up and echoed a similar statement. That in itself has earned my respect and makes me proud to say that she is my sister-in-arms this week. She wants to show the world what she has got, and I have no reason to doubt she will be a stellar athlete in SSW. There is a sense of honor between us, which is something that can not be said by the petty thieves that we stand across the ring from.

Khmaoch Sângkât is a commendable fighter. I will not take that away from him. Last week, he had a lot of fight in him, more so than I would have suspected to be harbored in a man of his fifties. There is still a youthful fire behind his punches, and his mat game is superb. But if Yokohama was an example of anything, it is that he has a breaking point that I can meet. It took the interference of his leader for him to ultimately keep me down. Now as the Heritage Champion, he is on borrowed time. Be it myself or any other member of the Shoot Nation, we'll be gunning to get back the championship that should rightfully be in the name of our camp. You may cling onto the physical possession, but the triumph and the glory will not be something for you to proudly relish in. We will take that away in your defeat on the 28th. As for Mizuki Nakata, the Ultraviolent Princess, she is an unfortunate victim of guilt by association with this group of craving hyenas. Coming from an honored family of the sport, yet taking a different route from theirs in an attempt to establish herself as an individual instead of being just another member of the said family line, that is a commendable way to go about this business. I would be a hypocrite to say that stepping away from a lineage that has bred success is a fault, after all, look at how I got my start in this industry and how I stepped away from it to become an individual, having my own legacy to forge. It is just unfortunate to who you have become affiliated with as a result. You otherwise seem like a nice kid, but no root of the Phantom Troupe shall remain in the foundation of these grounds regardless of that.

To the rest of the Phantom Troupe, especially to John Doe, I suggest you heed this warning. You fired the first shots of this war, and it is a war we in the Shoot Nation will see through to the end. It doesn't matter how many of you there are, what tactics you will try to use in an attempt and gain victory, In the end, Justice WILL prevail. So on behalf of Candice Blair, Myself and the rest of the Shoot Nation.

Khmaoch Sângkât... Mizuki Nakata... John Doe... The Phantom Troupe!"
BRACE YOURSELVES!
avatar
on January 26th 2018, 7:24 amKeelan Callihan
The important thing mindless individuals need to know is that a god does not fail, they merely have setbacks.


I have never had a moment of failure in my life. I take every moment I get and seize it to my utmost advantage. Failure isn’t a word in my vocabulary, because I simply do not allow myself to have a loss take over my body and ruin my confidence. I know exactly what I am capable of inside that squared circle. I lost last week fair and square. But you know what else? That match I had was one of the most talked about matches on the entire show. What does that tell you? In the middle of a bunch of championship matches, contendership matches and squash matches, Saul Omen and Levi Maximus went to the absolute limit and that night, and Omen was the better man. It’s a setback, not a failure. I know how to pick myself back up off the ground and keep fighting until every mother fucker is beneath me just like I already know they are. I would offer my congratulations to the man but I already know that when we meet again, the end result will not be the same story. I can still see right through that man and I know he has his weaknesses. I found them out first hand.


But now it is time to move on like I always do. No, I don’t let a silly loss by a mere man get to my head. We all experience them but it’s how we act upon them that define who we are. Me? Well, the way I act upon anything is nothing short of impressive. The task ahead for me is going to be quite the interesting matchup. Two factions going at it. This company has suddenly become nothing but factions and the battlefield is about to look real interesting if a war breaks out between each army. The battle lines are going to be drawn, the trenches are going to be built, the armory is going to be filled and the soldiers are going to be trained. But, what people need to start realizing is that this war is over before it even begins, and you know why?


It’s because Ronin has A GOD AMONGST THEM!!!


Bitches and gentlecunts, Ronin is about to take this place by storm. Stark is an incredible leader and we have a bunch of talented men and women who are all chewing at the bit to showcase what exactly makes them who they say they are. I’m not phased by my positioning in the faction because the way in my eyes, the entirety of Ronin is filled with gods. Tres Comas Club? I mean, who the hell are they? A bunch of individuals filled with their own self-confidence that currently has no idea what is about to happen to them this week. Andre Virgo, Jun Nobungaga and Maximus Grier. Welcome to your downfall.


Oh how it’s good to hear one of you open your mouths. Andre Virgo, it is a pleasure to be the man to put you in your place. You speak of Tres Comas Club not being ready to handle a championship like the Junior Heavyweight Championship. Well, at least you’re honest. At least you know that your group of so-called brothers aren’t capable of doing anything of relevance here in this company. Basically, you saying all that means you’re not ready for Ronin. You may be a group of brothers but we’re a group of gods. We’re a religion. Ronin is YOUR religion. Get on your knees and pray to us for forgiveness. You ask me what my plan is? My plans are none of your business, buddy. Ronin has their own desires and goals that each one of us want to achieve individually, but as a group we have our own plans too. No, I did not hear you at the press conference last week because I don’t give a fuck what you have to say. I don’t give a fuck what any of my opponents now or in the future have to say. It’s all white noise to me. All I care about is me and what I want to say and what I want to do.  You ask me if I see myself as a god, and the answer is no. I do not SEE myself as a god because I already know I am one. Perhaps my egotism blinds you from believing my statement but allow me to show you exactly why I call myself that in our match. You should know now that the odds aren’t in the favour of Tres Comas Club, nor will they ever will be when you go up against Ronin. We sit amongst the clouds higher than everybody because we above everyone. Nobody can touch us!


As for Maximus and Jun. Well, one seems to want to be me based on his name and the other I couldn’t give two shits about and neither could anybody else. Grier, it’s okay if you want to be me. Everybody wants to be a god, but not everybody can be one. I will make it my personal duty to beat you so badly that you’ll be forced to change your first name to something that doesn’t mimic me so.


Get on your knees and pray that you don’t sin under Ronin, because a punishment will be heading your way from the gods themselves.
on January 26th 2018, 1:21 amGuest


At the age of thirty-six years old, Slug Shakur demonstrates that his skills haven’t vanished just yet. We open the scene with Slug Shakur training in a local gym, showcasing his lightning fast jabs that thump a heavy bag every time he connects. Slug Shakur punches away, grunting, as his trainer interacts with a reporter nearby. Sluggers trainer has a look of confidence as he signals for Slug Shakur to wrap it up. Slug Shakur lets out 5 thunderous punches before spitting out his mouthpiece and heading over to take his interview. Slug Shakur mean mugs the reporter as the reporter has a look of fear in his eyes.

Slug Shakur: The fuck you want?

Reporter: Wel… well y yo you…

Slug Shakur lets out a laugh before hitting the reporter on the shoulder...

Slug Shakur: I’m just kidding, I just like how you can say fuck here with no repercussions. You don’t gotta worry about me getting in your head, you’re not the one I’m fighting on Sunday. Also, sorry I couldn’t make it to the press conference the other day, I had to teach the Japanese youth the English language but believe it or not…I believe a lot of them already know the language.

The reporter looks relieved…

Reporter: Why is that?

Slug Shakur: You see how many muthafuckas were speaking fluent English at the Strong Style Wrestling press conference? Something is fishy about this country but hey, I’m getting paid.

Reporter: Some had transl… Anyway what else did you think about the press conference?

Slug Shakur: What a pity party. Some members of the roster came out there crying as if their dog got hit by a car. I saw some clips on social media and I’m like nigga! It’s the first mile on the road. If you don’t have the mental toughness to get through day one, I’m gonna dip you in my favorite sauce and eat you alive whenever I get my hands on you and that’s a promise.

Other members of the roster came out and puffed their chest out like they don’t breathe the same air as me. Very reckless, very endangering. I didn’t make it to the first show of the Rising Sun Tour but best believe the atmosphere is about to change when I step foot in the locker room. Funny behavior is rampant when it’s not controlled but luckily Brian Daniels gave me a platform to not only wrestle, but to regulate. I added that little part to my contract clause, I don’t know if he realized that.

Reporter: Understandable. Though, while you mention that members of the roster have vocalized their opinions on the first week of Strong Style Wrestling, your upcoming opponent was not featured. This will be the debut match for both of you on the twenty-eighth.

Slug Shakur: Yea, I’m aware. What’s his name again? Tet.. Tit… Tittysoup Miyashiro. Whatever the hell his name is. I don’t know much about the guy other than they grouped me up with him apart of the Shoot Nation.

Report: It’s Tetsuo Miyashiro and he made a name for himself competing in Fight Clubs here in Japan.  

Slug Shakur: You aren’t supposed to talk about that, but what else? I fight too, where’s the meat? What’s the catch?

Report: He considers his method of strong style a religion of sorts. He has a devoted follower by the name of Akiba who worships him.

Slug Shakur:

Slug Shakur walks out of the frame and comes back with a bottle of water a few seconds later and takes a swig…

Slug Shakur: Tetsuo is one of them muthafuckas you don’t mess with. Like, he’s that dude who grabs pigeons out of the sky and bites their heads off. We all know one of them dudes.

Reporter: I’m afraid I don’t…

Slug Shakur: Well… I’ve seen some shit that the normal person hasn’t. Granted that I’m not normal… I’ve quickly concluded that I’m gonna mess with Tetsuo Miyashiro. Not only am I gonna poke the bear, I’m gonna punch the bear in the goddamn mouth just to see how he reacts. Growing up in my household or just by being in the real world you realize that religion and people who practice religion are pretty shaky. At one point in my life, I wasn’t supposed to eat pork, but I love bacon made of swine. Gospel music sales are way below rap and pop sales. Hell, one of the chicks on the roster is highly religious but that didn’t stop her from shaking her bare ass last Saturday at the club. Essentially, what I’m getting at is that there is something to exploit within Tetsuo and Akiba.

Reporter: Do you believe it’ll be necessary to take a different approach when it comes to your fellow Shoot Nation member?

Slug Shakur: Not one bit. Tetsuo Miyashiro sounds like a tough man, but he also eerily sounds like a pimp. Pimps and their hoes have a shelf life, mileage ya know? My only question is which one is the pimp and which one is the hoe? Is Tetsuo the pimp as we are presented… or is Akiba the pimp? Is Akiba the hoe as we are presented… or are we being deceived with Tetsuo being the hoe?

What it boils down to is that one is stronger than the other, but both are possible at being broken at the end of their mileage, and I got the hands to explode the whole operation -- you know what I mean?

Reporter: So ummmmm... what you’re saying is that the relationship between Tetsuo and Akiba is a lot more deep-rooted than we think?

Slug Shakur: Exactly! What grown ass man is following around another grown man without ulterior motives? It’s suspicious and I don’t do suspicious things, I solve them. Do you see my trainer following me around worshipping me everywhere I go? My trainer probably can’t stand my ass and I can’t stand his ass either but we work together because we make magic. I came to Strong Style Wrestling to eat -- Nah fuck that. I came to Strong Style Wrestling to feast! Tetsuo Miyashiro is a man who bleeds like me, walks like me, he don’t talk like me, but he will get a fight out of me and I expect back that same energy.

AKIBA! Matter of fact, look deep into my eyes since you’ll understand that more than my words.

Slug Shakur stares down the barrel of the camera with a look of fury…

If you even think about getting involved in my match, I’m going to give you the greatest lesson you’ll ever experience. I’m going to take these hands. Knock you out… and as you gain consciousness you’ll begin to pray on the ground. We’ll see what is more powerful, physics or your God.

Reporter: Powerful words from you Slug, any final words?

Slug Shakur is still snarling down the barrel of the camera not even paying the reporter any mind...

Slug Shakur: You almost killed the mood Mr. Reporter... There’s never any final words from me but I’ll give you this final sound bite since I’m not long winded like a lot of these muthafuckas. Can you believe the amount of babble niggas be adding just to sound deep? Oh oh how can mirrors be real if our eyes aren't real headass. People got shit to do tomorrow. Anyway, here we go...

Tetsuo Miyashiro could be a man of great discipline, he could be a man of great power. But at the end of the day… there is no church in the wild. Make me a believer.

Trainer (in the background): INTENSITY! OOOOH MAN! He gon eat you for dinner!

Slug Shakur side eyes his trainer and then looks back at the camera, snarling as it fades to black…

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