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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 30th 2018, 11:02 pmAria Jaxon
II.

Ya know, I thought we were way past the days of public executions being viewed as some next-level form of entertainment, but like my great-grandma used to say, there’s nothing new under the sun. Rarely ever does shit disappear completely. Often, it just takes on new forms -- from the Coliseum battles back in Rome to guillotining members of the nobility in France, and now, in living color in 2018, Jaydayne Pendragon meets his end at the hands of The Phantom Troupe. What separates this from all the aforementioned shit is that with everything pertaining to days past, there was never any confusion as to what would happen. The people walking to their doom KNEW what they were in for. Whether they accepted it is probably another matter altogether, but there was never any question as to how things would end. But this? It’s been dressed up as something so much nicer. Depending on who you ask, Jaydayne Pendragon is about to walk into a marquee event, turn the odds on their heads, and reach SSW’s pinnacle on a grand stage. Tomorrow night is being called many things, but the dumbest among our ranks are dancing around the matter at hand, calling that main event match anything but what it truly is. So allow your Queen to clear up any confusion that may have clouded your feeble minds.

Those people watching in Saitama and around the world shouldn’t be keeping their eyes peeled for their hero’s coronation.

They’re all on hand to witness his execution.

From day one, The Phantom Troupe has never bullshitted about our intentions, and I’m saying this even in relation to the faction’s goals and aspirations before I ever joined its ranks. John Doe assembled this group with a simple enough list of intentions in mind -- to stand tall as the unquestioned rulers of Strong Style Wrestling, laying waste to every single person who dared oppose us en route to holding all the cards and calling all the shots. Phantom Troupe V1 was hard enough to get a handle on, but the way our lineup looks now? There isn’t another collection of athletes on this roster that measures up. Any combination of two would be more than well-equipped enough to take Pendragon’s head off his shoulders, but I think there’s a particular sort of misfortune that comes with having to deal with Nas and I in the same match. Jaydayne, you’ve got it in your mind that us chasing after the same thing will be our undoing once this match shifts into high gear, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. As I told you before, we’re both realistic enough to understand the fact that we’re working toward the common goal of making sure our faction lords over all else. That’s two bloodthirsty competitors seeing a way to their goals through ending you. Two possible ways you can meet a gruesome fate. Two giant reasons why Shoot Nation’s journey toward the summit starts and ends at Exodus.

I know all about being crippled, so don’t presume that I’m standing here talking to you as a woman who’s never known what it was like to compete with a handicap. Mine was just of the less conventional variety. When you think of setbacks, you think of the physical ones that keep your fiance’s brother or Stephen Hawking confined to a wheelchair. It was only recently that I overcame my own handicap, and ironically, it happens to be the same thing that’s gonna get you hurt this weekend. I’m diagnosing you with the same thing that used to get my heart broken all the fucking time. You got hero syndrome, Jaydayne. And in spite of all that I’ve managed to do and as far as I’ve managed to go, it was never fair how much heartache I had to endure just because of all the times I tried to do the right thing. If I was content with being that girl, well, I wouldn’t be standing here right now, and you might actually stand a snowball’s chance in hell of leaving Saitama with gold around your waist. I look at you and I see who I used to be. All those noble good intentions, the foolish optimism...I’ve grown to HATE that shit. And by proxy, maybe I hate you. Or maybe I don’t know you well enough yet to even feel that way. You think you know myself and Nas, though, because you’re talking like you’ve got all the answers when you say we showed up on SSW’s doorstep as bitter people. You got everything fucked up. We came into this company with a new lease on our professional lives, ready to finally live up to all of our God-given potential without having to worry about other people’s feelings. That’s more liberating than you’ll ever know. And before you get ready to burn us at the stake for flaunting our high profiles and critically-lauded careers, do you think your bosses weren’t THRILLED to have people like us on their payroll? International superstars who could bring more eyes onto their product? The almighty dollar seems to be alluding you -- you DID admit to being pretty damn broke -- but I can’t say I know what that’s like, not at this point in my life. This match will turn out to be everything that you hate. Someone like me, the antithesis of the values of you, your faction, and perhaps this promotion, will be sauntering away with the thing you want most in this world right now. You’ll fail everyone who’s placed their faith in you, and the woman who takes you out is gonna saunter away with a fat check for having done so.

If SSW is your home, then this is representative of Phantom Troupe kicking in the front door, foreclosing on the house, and taking everything you hold dear. And you should consider yourself lucky, because the band aid is getting ripped off for you fairly early into our conquests. You’re one of the warning shots. You’re the example to warn later victims of what they can expect if they catch themselves feeling brave enough to put up a fight. The fight you’re in for just happens to be you can’t win.
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on March 30th 2018, 10:29 pmCM Nas
Rick Walton: Ladies and Gentlemen...my name is Rick Walton. And I am here tonight once again as the representative of The Best! Wrestler! Alive! C! M! NAAAAASSSSSSSS!

CM Nas: Thank you, Thank you Rick. You are far too kind.

Rick Walton: The pleasure is all mine Nas. Now let’s get straight to business this time around. No toiling around about any extra details. Just the meat of the conversation. Jaydayne Pendragon and the SSW Puroresu Heavyweight Championship!

CM Nas: Right Right. Because you see ladies and gents. I was hoping to be getting as much rest as possible for the big match tomorrow. But instead I have to sit here near damn midnight and tell Jaydayne Pendragon how much of a damned fool he is and why he could have just taken the easy way out of this. But true to his Shoot Nation mentality he HAD to push things further and now he’s going to have to face far graver consequences than he otherwise would have. Because you see Jaydayne, normally a man of MY STATURE should never HAVE to sit here and rush his thoughts out late at night against someone such as yourself. Yet here I am. Why is that exactly? Well it is quite simple my...well not friend. Let’s say my victim. Sure whatever. Jaydayne, I’m doing all of this because I want that SSW Puroresu Heavyweight Championship more than you could possibly imagine. 

Rick Walton: IT WOULD BE THE ULTIMATE HALLMARK OF MY CLIENT TRULY ASCENDING TO THE STATUS OF CHAMPION OF E-FEDS!

CM Nas: Exactly. That is why I am doing this. That is why your destruction is inevitable at Exodus. But you had to keep on going. You couldn’t just leave well enough alone. You had to stand up and try and be “the hero”...and trust me Jaydayne. If anyone understands that mindset, it would be me. But that’s where your downfall comes in Mr. Pendragon. I know everything you’re trying to do, because I have been there and done that. I am of a whole different level from that now however. I have risen to a new tier of power! I AM NO LONGER A MERE MORTAL MAN LIKE YOURSELF! I HAVE GROWN FROM A MAN...TO A GOD! So I get it. You cannot help that you do not understand why I am the way that I am or why I do the things that I do. And that is fine, because I have given all of those who do not outright understand me like my fellow Phantom Troupe members two options. Follow my gospel, or perish as I mold the world into the image I see for it. And there’s not a single man who could oppose me or my motives. You can try, but you’ll simply be what I previously referred to you as...an example. I preached the holy word for the future of the world of wrestling and most specifically Strong Style Wrestling moving forward through 2018 and even further beyond. And those who do not take my divine hand and join me shall be eradicated! And that is your fate now Jaydayne Pendragon. However the most unfortunate part for you in specific is...I was not the outright cause of your destruction. You brought this upon yourself! You doomed yourself to eternal damnation if you would. I am simply the one who must send you down to those fiery depths. 

Rick Walton: Your fate is to be crushed underneath the oppressive boot of The Best Champion Alive! C! M! NAS! HE AND THE PHANTOM TROUPE RULE THE WORLD OF PROFESSIONAL WRESTLING AND NOT A  SINGLE DAMNED PERSON CAN CHANGE THAT! Most certainly not a fool who is too stupid to realize he faces impossible odds. Mr. Pendragon, my client didn’t want this to become personal with you. He simply wanted to do business. Have a classic matchup for a World Championship and turn spiteful doubters into devout believers. That is what he has done in every promotion he has ever stepped foot in. Strong Style Wrestling will be NO DIFFERENT! He shall have literally every single fan of this promotion eating from the palm of his hand in no time at all. Buying his merchandise. Cheering his name unendingly. Praying for his victory in every encounter he ever has. And longing to see no other man or woman on the Planet Earth carry the Strong Style Wrestling Puroresu Heavyweight Championship other than NASIR THE DESTROYER!

CM Nas: Well said Rick. You see for those that were wondering that is why Rick is here. Not to be some sort of “insurance policy” during matches. Because I don’t need that sort of thing. I’m The Best. A literal God of this industry. Why would someone of my ability need assistance to win matches? Well it is quite simple...I DON’T NEED ANY HELP! Ergo, Rick Walton is not here to cheat on my behalf. You see what those who love and follow Strong Style Wrestling are going to learn is that I can do whatever I please, whenever I please to, and you will all cheer my name like the deity I am. I am so beloved in the United States. I could throw a sack of puppies into a shark tank then piss in it and they’d all wildly cheer my name as if I was their personal guardian angel. There’s a very specific reason for that. I am their saviour! I rescued them from the mediocrity that they had to stomach through before I arrived! I showed them what true wrestling is and how it should be done every time...and they love me eternally for it. That is the fate of the Strong Style Wrestling fans. I will have ALL OF JAPAN ON THEIR KNEES BOWING BEFORE MY GREATNESS! I am their God Saviour, they are the clueless fans who will soon learn what is true divine justice, and as for you Pendragon? You are nothing more than the mediocrity that they are currently suffering through. I shall save them from YOU at Exodus AND claim the SSW Puroresu Heavyweight Championship at the exact same time! How shall I do this you may be wondering? Well...by destroying you, duh. I am the God of Destruction after all.

HAKAI!
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on March 30th 2018, 9:01 pmJaydayne Pendragon
⚔️In a dark lightly lit room, back to the camera Pendragon sits on the floor cross legged before a laptop surrounded by papers and his mask. An audible female kissing sound is made as a goodbye as the lights of the laptop go out, and Pendragon grabs the top of the laptop, lingering for a small moment hesitating to close it, caught in the moment. One with a keen eye would notice Pendragon isn’t wearing his half face paint at the moment. He closes the laptop, and then grips at his mask. Standing up he places the mask on, turns to the camera, and sits the traditional seiza style. ⚔️

Crippling……crippling anxiety, crippled in body, crippled in the mind, and crippled in health, these are things known to many in the world who have their lives blocked by some sort of daunting problem they face. Crippling is the term used to describe my world outside of that ring, my personal life in which I’m paying off bills for my fiancée’s brother, said by a crass individual to take a jab at the reality I live in.

When I first met my fiancée, I was a boy who knew of tradition and nobility, but knew nothing about the wonders nor the hardships of life. I practiced the blade, I adhered to rituals, but in her aglow eyes I received what gives a man true purpose, and through her smile found the warm welcoming of home. She could breathe life into a machine when the soul inside since birth gasped for air, and was kind enough to tinker with what should have been considered too rigid to draw any attention from a high spirited individual. Yet her family struggled, she had to be a pillar for her own, yet had the dazzling power leftover to enchant a man like myself. Witnessing such majestic poise in face of the world is like finding a flower blooming in the Arctic, in front of that how could I dare be a man down in the dumps who folds in front of a few hardships in the form of these bills you see at my side?

And if her brother, a mere boy, can fight illness everyday, how could I expect her to look at me with any sense of value if I couldn’t find the fight in me to take the two of you on for just one match?

No Jaxon, I won’t be giving up my ways just because you two claim to be united in my destruction, I won’t pretend my life isn’t worth living outside of that ring just because my wallet is as thin as the hair at the top of your head.

But if you want to use the term crippling, know that what cripples can also be what makes a person uncrippled if wielded the right way. Like a sword, it only needs the right master.

I walk in line behind many great masters. Take for example, your western recently passed legend in Stephen Hawking who was confined to a chair with a crippled body, this uncrippled him to dedicate his life towards the sciences and gave him the ability to inspire countless other impaired people to know there was a path to greatness in their lives. Much like he did for them, much like my fiancée and her kin do for me as I see them represent this lifestyle, I wish to have that type of role for people in Strong Style Wrestling, be it for people in that crowd or in that locker room! Even my defeat in the match with Bang and the pesky Santiago builds up my resolve. There are things one cannot do if they are too perfect, people they cannot reach if they are too privileged and untroubled, so let these flames that burn be the ones to forge my steel ever shaper! I will show that pain can make a person greater! Not that the two of you would know anything about that. Undisciplined, the crippling effects of life made the two of you into the types of people that make people avoid conflict, what makes people believe their troubles will led them to never find true happiness nor a proper way of life. You’re bitter, resentful, and craven because the world was once unjust to you, what do you think people think when they hear the two of you speak? The business made you into two people that travelled across the world simply to showcase that you’re full of hate and willing to throw away your dignity now just for an easy way to get ahead, is that how you planned for your careers to be when you began? Is this what you wish to show the other side of the world you’re being introduced to? Petty, and simple.

You may call me a nobody as you wish, but today I didn’t come to your home seeking fame and fortune, you came to mine.

This isn’t to say I don’t welcome foreigners, for the woman I love and because of the hafu that I am that’d be hypocritical, here in SSW I am a fitting bridge for the East and the West. My role as leader of Shoot Nation is to welcome those foreign from these lands with a fair opportunity because I know what it means to come from the West, and yet through my lineage also ensure that the values of Japan are not trampled on by cretins like yourselves. Shoot Nation is an open tent for all who wish to represent and learn our ways, from Belle and the Apparition to our mentor Masanori Kawada, you can underestimate us, but you will feel our resolve and you will receive casualties in the red strife waged upon you! My heart pure as puroresu, bleeds for the true unblemished spirit of this sport, I have no patience for a so-called god that claims to accept second place nor the girl who’d entertain the boy as a friend in their questionable endeavors! Come to me as one, but all know that in that ring you will be cut into two! Then, the world will witness the crowning of a champion.


⚔️The screen splits in two at the sound of a swishing sword into a black screen with Pendragon’s mask, then nothing. ⚔️
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on March 30th 2018, 2:42 pmRacer Smiles


[Racer Smiles is in the SSW dojo weight room warming up for his deadlift at 765 lbs. He pulls the weight and pulls his hips into a standing position and the bar starts bending.]

Goddammit!

[He sets the weight down and goes over to his gym bag.]

Hey you! Young boy, get your ass over here!

[A young boy comes over to Racer Smiles and Racer hands him 110,000 Yen)

Give this to whoever’s in charge of the equipment and tell them to buy some bars that can handle real weight! You got that?

[Racer points to the bent barbell on the ground]


Yoriyoi bā! Jisshitsu jūryō! Go tell Brian Daniels or whoever the fuck!

[The nervous young boy takes the money and runs off to tell a trainer]

Quelle blague…

Good thing that a week of weak equipment won’t make me too weak to show my opponents what raw strength and power can do. I don’t care what a hasbeen and a neverwas have to say about it. The idea that anyone thinks I’m overconfident is laughable. The fact that it seems like before now this crap was good enough to make anyone stronger makes me think I’m giving you all too much credit. I can barely even overhead press. Why do I even need to explain myself?

[Racer motions towards the bent bar on the ground]

Imagine what’s gonna happen to whoever is unlucky enough to get caught in the hands of the freak that did that. Tarah Nova has done a lot and I respect that, hell I bet she packs a punch but what is she realistically going to do when I get my hands on her? And Piero, what’s he gonna do period? Other than run? HA! He may be husky but that bar has more than three times his body weight on there so best believe I could break him like a toothpick just like I could his lanky reject advisor. I could toss him across the ring with one hand. Why is there a question to whether or not I can back up my claims? My resume speaks for itself.

Like I said before, I don’t even need Chase to win a championship in my first match in SSW and change the fact that I currently have zero citable in ring accomplishments. If he doesn’t hold me back or somehow manages to contribute to our victory I can’t realistically understand how we could possibly be toppled by a few of SSW’s resident gang of misfits. Against Tres Comas Club? Now I’ve only just arrived but I know that Tres Comas is a group of prized fighters. We’re not the biggest faction on the grounds but that’s because we don’t just let anyone in. Even Chase has done a pretty good job at getting under your skin so at least he’s good for something.

[André Virgo walks by in workout gear and headphones.]

Well speak of the devil, there goes a Tres Comas OG! The breathtaking André!... Vir!... Go!...

[André pats Racer on the shoulder and keeps moving forward with focus]

Hm. Would have thought the “Stolen Breath” would be more… Ya’know...

I think I’ve made myself clear. Now if you’ll excuse me I’m going to find the heaviest dumbbells this place has got and try to get a pump.
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on March 30th 2018, 11:12 amChase Vedder
My attention is only ever on what’s important.

An interview with pointless questions about my debut are not important.

Winning championship gold in my first outing, however… that’s very important. I may not hold my attention for the redundant questions about “how I expect to make an impact” or “what I expect to accomplish” but they get the same answer from every single person unless it’s that fake “oh I’m here because I love wrestling”. If these people weren’t getting paid they wouldn’t do it. I’m here to win titles, get girls and make bank. It’s as simple as that. The formalities don’t interest me, especially when the person asking the questions’ greatest success is interviewing someone like me. They’re simply not worth my time.

Then again, I could very well be contradicting myself because Tarah Nova is edging very close to crossing that line. I honestly couldn’t care less that Racer agrees with what you have to say because when Tres Comas Club is holding those Freebird Championships because of me his tone is going to change very quickly. You, though, Tarah, are a different beast altogether. You spoke up and told me that you weren’t offended by what I had said, that I was unoriginal and a “fuckin fool” yet you still spent, what, five minutes talking about it? Sooner or later the facade falls and it becomes clear that, despite your denial, I’m getting to you. You’re right, nothing that I had to say about you was original and I’m sure you’ve heard it a million times before… BUT THAT’S THE POINT, TARAH. It’s getting to you because of that, not despite it. You know that I’m not the first and I won’t be the last and knowing you’re going to continue to have this kind of abuse thrown at you just makes you angrier. You can tell me I’m wrong as much as you like but the words coming out of your mouth tell a much different, sadder story. You’re a bad liar, honey, but you’re even worse at trying to patronize me. If there’s one thing I won’t sit here and take, it’s someone who doesn’t even know me trying to question my masculinity and call me a coward when I’ve never been disqualified for cheating or walked out on a match. It’s easy to tell that you’re quick to listen to rumors without any factual information to back them up. You really put your foot in it there, huh? But just so we’re clear, I’ll tell you again: I am not a coward. I’m the God damn man and if you still have anything to say about it I’ll face you here, I’ll face you there, I’ll face you anywhere you damn well please and prove you wrong over and over and over again.

You know what the best part about all this back-and-forth is though? Now, when I beat you, I’ll know that your little sister is watching you get your ass handed to you by the same guy you thought was just some dweeb in a leather jacket. How embarrassing would that be, knowing that you’ve talked so much trash to me only to fall short while your baby sister is sat at home still trying to cheer you on. If I were you I’d go home, apologise to her right now because by the time Exodus is over I don’t think she’d see you as the big, strong, faux-Goth superhero Tarah Nova that she’s grown up with. Instead all she’ll be looking at is just another disappointment in a family that I’m sure has already had plenty. Then I’m sure all of that talk about not needing your EAW accomplishments to fall back on will mean nothing and you’ll go back to using them as a crutch because they’re all you’ve got left. All the while you’ll be looking back at this moment as the day that everything that went wrong because you made the biggest mistake anyone could ever make.

You showed Tres Comas Club your hand and made yourself vulnerable.

In fact, I don’t even need to talk about the way you look anymore… although I do wish I’d said Craigslist earlier. Craigslist is the trashier one, right? The one where people pretend to sell you their shit
and stab you? Yeah, I think that probably would have suited you better.

I can just tell that this “clean slate” business you blurted out already means nothing because you still stand like someone who thinks they have some kind of authority. You’ve gone so far to become the “leader” of the Ronin, in fact. That in itself is laughable because what you’re essentially telling me is that you’re in charge of all the wrestlers that no one else wanted! It’s like you’ve just been named the smartest kid in special-ed! It doesn’t mean anything! Especially when you treat yourself as this lone wolf, guarded person despite the fact that not only did you immediately pander to the invisible people around you but you’re dating CM Nas! You just can’t make this stuff up!

Not like any of this matters, right? You’re still gonna kick my ass anyway, right? I’m all talk, RIGHT?

Even if any of that were true (it’s not) I have a guy who’s 5’9” and could bench press a tractor on my side while the marshmallow you’re teaming with is probably going to get sent to prison for the plants he’s growing in his “Bonsai Garden”.

I was born to have gold around my waist and at Exodus you’ll see I’m telling the truth. Unfortunately you’ll be behind the curve... because everyone else already knows it.
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on March 30th 2018, 12:29 amKhmoach Sangkat
EXODUS: I


In my time in Japan, I have come across a concept. A precious value that seems to hold so much purchase both within the sport and amongst the fans. From technique, guile, agility, raw strength and all attributes both physical and mental, men will pick their favourites. Yet, there is one other conceived ingredient of what makes a warrior is honored here above all else almost universally. I speak, of course, of Fighting Spirit. You hear it all the time. When feeble flesh begins to falter and when even the sharpest mind is too punch-drunk to function as it should, you hear that same rallying cry repeated upon the wind. Toukon. Toukon. Toukon. FIGHTING SPIRIT! This romantic conceit remains the rallying cry of countless idealistic fools like the first man to fight me for the SSW Heritage Championship, Masanori Kawada. I can see the appeal. It is alike the tenets of those Western religions wherein the soul is immortal and by freeing it from the perishable temptations and attachments of this world each man can defy death itself. Fighting Spirit posits any man who can succeed in stripping himself down to his purest soul will be incorrigible. Able to surpass his mortal shell and continue on even as every tangible part of himself fails.


Fighting Spirit is a prayer of hope.


In other words, it is a crutch.


Fighting Spirit is a LIE!


While some here will speak of the lightness of their heart or the strength of their unconquerable spirit as if it is just another substitute prick to measure, I believe it is as the Pali scriptures teach us… Any soul that still walks this earth, whether as mortal flesh or as undying ghost, does so for the very same reason… Because we have still not freed ourselves from the attachments that bind us to our suffering. Forget about feathers, souls are lighter than air. They come and go from the body. They can wander to far off places as we sleep. And left to its own devices, the soul would float away, disintegrating happily into the darkness beyond. Amun-Ra tells me it is the lightest hearts that live forever. But I believe that he has gotten things the wrong way around. It is the heavy-hearted that remain upon this earth. Those that do not find release. After all, Nirvana never meant “heaven”. It is not some verdant evergreen field of bliss. And there is no light at the end of the tunnel, only its antithesis. The translation is “blowing out”. In other words, extinction, In other words, Death.


Yes, Son of Ra, my heart is a boulder. This vessel is filled with enough nightmares, memories, regrets, demerits and purposes left unfulfilled to anchor not one but two spirits to this cruel earth. Withholding from each any chance of finding the sweet release of oblivion that they so desperately need. But do not deceive yourself into thinking for a moment that your spirit shines brighter in this regard. Your reasons for being here in SSW are just as vile and base as any other. We are all as lost as eachother, do you not realise? The Tres Comas dogs have come to sate their lust of a wealth that cannot last. Masanori Kawada fought me to alleviate his suffering ego and stand tall not just as glorified product placement but in his own prideful name. And you, while evoking a salvation afforded to light hearts, you choose to weigh down your own with earthly relics and gilded chains. Do you not see the irony here? Perhaps you are confused… Perhaps overzealous embalmers were busy at work while you slept. Twisting the hook inside your nose. Pulling out the useless greymatter because what need is there for reason when the spirit of a God will always rise above the heavy heart? Admit it, Amun-Ra. Our bodies collide in merciless combat over this SSW Heritage Championship not because deep down in our hearts we bear the weight of similar sins. We each live and bleed for the memory of a past blessed to have died before us. We each look back on the good left undone, on the tragedy of a shattered way of life. And pine for a means to make things right and build merit to ease our souls beyond the veil. Whether salvation truly looks like this field of reeds you speak of, or whether it is as I hope this heavy heart and all the suffering it holds being swallowed by some devourer of souls, it matters little, for the blood-stained path remains the same.


Many horrors threaten to scare the soul directly out of my body, yet dread of Amun-Ra is not amongst them. I do not fear you or the myths with which you clothe yourself. I would not shudder even if you WERE a God. I am only afraid that I am not done with the SSW Heritage Championship. My years are getting late but I must still find a way to appease my father’s regretful spirit and ease him on to let this life go. As long as his ghost haunts my dreams and his death hangs heavy on my heart, I WILL REMAIN. Immovable as a boulder. Impervious as stone. The suffering of these hands and the suffering that these hands create, it WILL NOT DIE! So come. Show me your so-called divinity. Overwhelm my senses like the glare of the Sun or the rushing currents of the Nile. Just know that even Gods may learn to pray for death. For while the desert heat will not scorch my back and the waters of the Nile will not flood the arena, the ring WILL fill with blood. And while Egypt’s ancient glories will not appear again each morn like the Sun, the Nightmares of my past will haunt any man who shares the ring with that Phantom Menace, the Daemon of Prey Veng. If you were wise, you would rip that light heart of it’s cage and let it free to float away into the void rather than allow it to suffer my killing fields. But it seems that even “Gods” find it hard to escape the dukkha or mortal attachments.


No matter. It will be to my own merit to release you from the worries of your ambition. Come Exodus, I will be the vehicle which blows out the Son of Sun I will extinguish your cruel passions. And watch your ego die peacefully as the three count marks your slumber.


Your Divine spirit is a lie.

Only the heavy boulder remains embedded in the earth.
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on March 29th 2018, 6:55 pmAria Jaxon
I.

The near-deafening hustle and bustle of Tokyo all but disappeared as soon as Aria Jaxon pushed through the front doors of SSW’s main offices. As she stepped over the threshold, she pushed her sunglasses down the bridge of her nose -- despite the characteristic lack of significant sun on a typically mild and slightly cloudy day here in the city. She took a look around the modest but beautifully decorated space and it didn’t take more than a couple of seconds before her eyes fell on the center of the room, where SSW Puroresu Heavyweight Championship was housed in a glass case on a pedestal, pending it actually being contested for this weekend at Exodus. Standing in front of the case with his back facing Aria was a man much taller than her with dark hair, whose tattoo-covered arms hung loosely at his sides. She smiled to herself before going to stand right beside him. Aria stood on her tiptoes before ruffling his hair and then running a hand through hers. “We match now,” she said breezily, sounding more than a little amused.

CM Nas looked over at her and smirked as he gave her a once-over. “The black hair is a good look. I guess it goes with the whole new package,” he remarked, gesturing to Aria. His eyebrow raised a bit and his voice took on a teasing tone. “Word on the street says you’re a bitch now, so it fits.”

Aria rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Nah, just fed up. If anybody would know anything about that, I’d think it would be you.” She lazily trailed a finger down his arm. “You didn’t have these a few days ago.”

Nas folded his arms across his chest and shrugged. “The changes have been coming non-stop these last few days.” He held out an arm. “Shit like this is just cosmetic, obviously, but it’s just more change to go along with the recurring theme. I feel like I have my freedom for the first time in a long time. I guess shit like this is how people know I feel like a new man.”

The Californian nodded. Of course she empathized. Her life had been wildly different not even a week ago, and it was still difficult to come to grips with. Not necessarily painful, given how happy she was now, but still hard to believe. She felt like she could breathe again, and that was something you couldn’t put a price on. She and Nas had left their previous employer in much the same manner -- in an irate huff, absolutely fed up, and slinging ten pounds of gold over their shoulder as they walked out the door. Now they were standing next to each other halfway around the world and concerned with a different championship altogether. Aria tapped a manicured pastel blue fingernail against the glass pane in front of them and allowed a slight laugh to precede her next words. “Can you believe they got us in the same match for this?”

“Yes and no,” Nas remarked, “Of course they want that name value for the first world title match…”

“Nobody knows who the fuck Pendragon is,” Aria said matter-of-factly.

“I meant us,” the New Jersey native laughed, motioning to the air in between the two of them.

“I know, I know,” Aria lolled. “You wanna give the best the chance to get that first crack at your top title, but it’s also like...how are you gonna put two people from Phantom Troupe in the match against each other?”

Nas took a split second to feign being offended and hurt. “You saying I shouldn’t be here?” he teased.

The Californian shot him a look as if to ask him if he was actually serious when he said that, but the tone of his voice to her otherwise. “I’m saying if there was only room for one of us and I had to go snatch the Jr. Heavyweight belt out from underneath those TCC scrubs instead, I would.”

Nas’ expression softened. “Don’t say that,” he implored with a sigh. “Look, we’re both in the main event and that’s twice as many chances for our faction to take possession of that belt. I feel like that’s the most important thing.”

Aria pursed her lips before turning her attention away from the title altogether and facing Nas. “Look at you, Mr. Team Player. You’re saying you’d lay down for me?”

Nas turned to face her as well, finally uncrossing his arms. “Well…”

The last part of what she’d said hadn’t actually been serious, and she’d hoped he wasn’t actually mulling it over. Aria shook her head, as a way of cutting Nas off without actually interrupting him, sort of. “Nuh uh, we’re not even entertaining the idea. Ixnay on that shit. The best person in that match is gonna win, alright? And it’s gonna be one of us. No matter what, Phantom Troupe is gonna have that title.”

Nas nodded before taking a moment to reply. “I still wanna win as badly as you do.”

“I never doubted that for a second,” Aria laughed.

“Maybe they think we can’t put business first and we’ll do most of Pendragon’s work for him,” he pondered. After a few seconds, a knowing smile creased his expression. “After all, Phantom Troupe’s the worst of the worst, right? The renegades and the assholes?” He shook his head before rubbing his hands together. “They don’t know they just sent this dude off to slaughter.”

Aria smiled. “Well, these two assholes are on the same page here. Don’t worry about it.” She glanced over at the glittering championship behind the glass one last time before standing on her tiptoes once again, pressing a kiss to his cheek before turning on her heel and walking back in the direction from which she’d come.


***

Rumors of my demise have been greatly exaggerated.

For my entire career, I’ve been a problem that more than a few people have tried and failed to solve. I was always too small, too young, too cocky, or too whatever the fuck else to have succeeded and to have gotten this far. I suppose that’s why people have gotten so bold over the last number of days. The idea of Aria Jaxon being done and dusted doled out hope to people who were too pathetic to hang onto it by any other means. To all the people who put stock in the gossip, the ones who threw their all into constructing the rumors, the ones who had prayed they’d seen the last of me -- I’m not going anywhere anytime soon, and you can die mad about it.

The fact that I’m standing here is enough to put any whispers of me stepping away to rest. I get it, though. I can understand why there was that tiny sliver of time where people were able to rejoice at the idea that I might really be going away. I tend to shatter people’s sense of security. I make history. I hold entire divisions under my thumb, and without me around? The competition can actually breathe. Halfway around the world, there’s plenty of bitches jumping for joy at the fact that my boot’s not on their throat anymore. Must feel nice not to have their heads held underwater for the first time in damn near three years. In my time with my previous employer, I saw people cut their losses and run away when things didn’t go their way. When they fell flat on their faces and couldn’t own up to their failures, they took their ball and went home. But me? I wasn’t ushered out the door as a failed prospect or a broken woman. I departed with one of the most coveted prizes in the industry, one that I held an unbreakable stranglehold on for the better part of nine months. As far as I’m concerned, the coveted trophy stays with me forever. I defined its lineage. I took it to new heights, and now? Someone else can carry around a cheap imitation.

People will say that I’ve changed, and they’re right. To that, I say three things -- that I own that fact 100%, that I should’ve done it sooner, and that I can’t wait to see how much further I’ll get now that I’ve become the person I always should’ve been. I wasted too much time playing by the rules and being afraid to step on people’s toes. The fact that I accomplished as much as I did despite being preoccupied with people’s feelings is really just a testament to the fact that when I say I’m one of the best wrestlers currently breathing? I MEAN THAT SHIT. I’ve shown up in SSW finally unshackled and unburdened by the expectations of others, and the coming out party for the most ruthless woman in this company, the unquestioned Queen of Strong Style Wrestling, is a main event opportunity befitting someone of my stature. The writing on the marquee will say that it’s a triple threat match for the SSW Puroresu Heavyweight Championship, and anybody stupid enough not to know better wouldn’t even dig beneath the surface. The truth is that this match is a gift-wrapped chance shoved in Phantom Troupe’s direction to show exactly why nothing of note will happen in this company without one of our members present. They wanted to put the best of the best in this title match, and does anyone think it’s a coincidence that two people from the same faction are standing front and center? I mean, where’s Ronin’s rep? Or are those playing it safe, middle-of-the-road ass motherfuckers even in possession of enough determination to reach this point? Tres Comas Club isn’t anywhere in sight, either, and that’s fucking hilarious. They’re the ones pegged as future world champions by investors with deep pockets, and not a single one of their financial sugar daddies could scrounge up the change to buy any one of them a slot in a big ticket match. As it turns out, there was only one other faction in this company who apparently had a member who had any business standing across from Nas and I.

So here stands Jaydayne Pendragon, the leader of Shoot Nation, promising that he’s about to defy the odds, slay the evil dragons sent in by Phantom Troupe, and claim SSW’s top prize for his boring ass group of altruistic idiots. With this company having come dangerously close to no longer existing not too long ago, Jaydayne’s christened himself the one to push it into the future and make sure SSW is never on life support again. It’s cute. If I didn’t know any better, I’d buy into what you were saying completely. I’m gonna warn you of this one time, and one time only -- this ain’t a fairytale. There is no happy ending here. I know exactly what you’re expecting. You think you’re about to walk into Saitama Super Arena, defy the odds, outsmart both Nas and myself, and walk away with all the marbles. You said yourself that you don’t think we can hold it together when the stakes are this high. You’re expecting the two of us to be so preoccupied with winning that we turn on each other mid-match, but I wouldn’t hang my hat on that if I were you. At the end of the day, both he and I accept that SSW is unique in the regard that the factions dominate the landscape. A major win for any one of us is a major victory for our allies, too. He has already admitted that, and so will I. Jaydayne, Phantom Troupe owns the outcome of this match just as we own every other part of the SSW landscape. As far as this match is concerned, nothing is up to you anymore. You’ll survive as long as we allow you to. The best you can hope for is to have enough wherewithal left to have your eyes open long enough to watch one of us walk off with that championship.

“Unworthy”, that’s a funny word to throw around. Even funnier are your reasons for WHY either Nas or myself wouldn’t be worthy of carrying the championship. I mean, as you’ve seen, he and I have more than a little experience in that department, so why would we be the worst choices in the world to hold SSW’s top prize? Ohhhhh, right, because we’re arrogant, power-hungry, and we don’t care enough about other people! For shame. God, cue the violins. Jaydayne, I have to ask you, since you’ve done everything by the book -- what do you have to show for it? What do you have to show me that all your sacrifice and humility and preachy bullshit has been worth it? I saw when you challenged for the Jr. Heavyweight Championship and came up empty-handed. J-Dynasty holds your hand. You leave work and return to the crippling reality of your fiance's brother’s mounting medical bills. This defeat is just another sign you’ll ignore, another omen (not Saul) that maybe you should switch up your approach a little bit. But you won’t. Your hope will get you nowhere this week, and if you’re REALLY unlucky? We’ll take that from you right along with everything else.

Nasir, sweetheart, fellow Phantom Troupe royalty, this match is about us. The truth we both recognize is that Pendragon isn’t walking away with that title. Who knows, maybe he won’t be walking at all. The truth hanging over everyone’s heads is that the SSW Puroresu Heavyweight Championship will be around the waist of a member of Phantom Troupe. The only question is which one. If you’re the one to bring it all home, I won’t be able to complain. At least that way, the title will be in the possession of the only faction in this company that matters. Ideally, though...I’d love some more shiny gold to add to my collection. Jaydayne is preoccupied with stopping two people he was never really prepared to fuck with. He’s blinded by all his do-gooder nonsense and his futile attempts at nipping Phantom Troupe’s quest for dominance in the bud. But that blade he’s always talking about, his figurative weapon of choice? It’s already pressed against his neck. Now it’s just a matter of seeing which one of us is wielding it.
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on March 29th 2018, 2:00 pmCM Nas
Rick Walton: Ladies and Gentlemen...my name is Rick Walton. And I have arrived here in Strong Style Wrestling to be the representative of the Best! Wrestler! Alive!

CM Nas: AND…

Rick Walton: AND of course...THE REIGNING! DEFENDING! EAW ANSWERS HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPION OF THE WORLD! C! M! NAS!

CM Nas: Well Rick my old chum, thank you for that absolutely stellar introduction. It came with such vigor and passion...two things that for the last couple months of my time in the wrestling industry, I didn’t even know if I possessed any longer. However I soldiered on to be all that I could. I wanted to be in the position my superiors were in years prior. I had it all. The in ring ability, the speaking ability, and the overwhelming fan following! I was everything! And...still...am!

Rick Walton: HE DOMINATED THE WORLD OF WRESTLING! The entire Western Hemisphere bows in awe to the Greatness that is The Modern Day Champion of E-Feds! 

CM Nas: You see I have carried this here EAW Answers World Championship for twenty seven days...AND FOR TWENTY SEVEN DAYS THIS HERE HAS BEEN THE SINGLE MOST IMPORTANT CHAMPIONSHIP IN THE ENTIRE WORLD! Ergo making me the single most important Champion in the entire world of Wrestling...but that should go without saying should it not?

Rick Walton: Only the BEST CHAMPION should be viewed as the most important. It is common sense. An infant could figure it out. But the question I’m sure everyone has Nasir is...why here and why now? Why this time period in Strong Style Wrestling?

CM Nas: Why? A better question is why not? Why do people need to ask me why? I don’t get that. I’m a grown man who can travel around the world and compete wherever he pleases whenever he pleases. I am not shackled down by any one organization. I come and go as I please and compete wherever I choose! And right now that is in Strong Style Wrestling…

Rick Walton: Yes but of course that does not quite answer the question of-

CM Nas: Why? Well once again...because I can. I am the best. So I want to compete with and against the absolute best. Where I was prior to Strong Style...I was not getting that. You see, I spent years living up to the expectations of others, trying to please others. But in my pursuits of acceptance, it finally dawned upon me. Wrestling at that point just was not fun for ME anymore. I lost sight of what was most important. What I WANTED AND HOW I FELT! I got so caught up in all that statistical bullshit that I forgot I got into this business just because I love wrestling and it’s something I dreamed of doing my entire childhood. And as I said...being the best, I only wish to compete against the best. Hence why I am here. The world of wrestling is my oyster. Strong Style Wrestling is NO DIFFERENT despite what others may desire to tell you. As the Modern Day Champion of Efeds and the Best Wrestler Alive, I can come into SSW and do as I please. Take whatever I wish. Harm whoever I see fit. And absolutely nothing can be done about it. You wanna know why?

Rick Walton: Because what promotion would not want to retain the Best?

CM Nas: Absolutely Rick! RIGHT ON THE MONEY! I AM THE BEST! I CAN EXTERMINATE THE REST OF THIS ENTIRE PITIFUL ROSTER, aside from my fellow Phantom Troupe members, AND IT WON’T MAKE A DAMN DIFFERENCE! AND DO YA WANNA KNOW WHY?!

Rick Walton: No locker room of any other promotion could dare compare to even just you Champ.

CM Nas: BINGO! I RULE THE WORLD OF WRESTLING IN 2018! IT HAS BEEN MY FUCKING YEAR SINCE 2016 AS A MATTER A FACT! BUT DUE TO A PLETHORA OF BULLSHIT EXECUTIVE DECISIONS FROM MY PRIOR EMPLOYERS IT TOOK TWO YEARS FOR ME TO CLAIM WHAT I HAD EARNED LITERAL YEARS AGO! 

Rick Walton: But that’s all fine...because you’ve got it now.

CM Nas: Indeed, and this is merely the beginning! You see THIS HERE CHAMPIONSHIP...this is all the validation I need to show that I am the Greatest Professional Wrestler walking the Planet Earth...arguably EVER! NO ONE CAN MATCH ME NOW! And that brings me to this triple threat contest…

Rick Walton: You take on both fellow Phantom Troupe member Aria Jaxon, and Shoot Nation’s Jaydayne Pendragon. You’ve got no gripes with Miss Jaxon naturally. She’s a fellow Troupe Member and a long time friend of yours. So it’s very obvious what this triple threat match if you could even call it that will be. Aria and My Client establishing the Troupe’s dominance over Strong Style and laying waste to Jaydayne Pendragon. For you see he is simply nothing more than the first example. The first of MANY! Very unfortunate for him because in that warped head of his, he seems to think he even stands a remote chance of not just surviving, but THRIVING against the both of you. Now that’s just adorable. That naive Shoot Nation mentality will make their run in SSW short lived.

CM Nas: He is the first of a literal company filled with fools who will line up to challenge a God...and not survive to tell the story of it. However I will live on. Nas the Destroyer will etch Jaydayne’s name into the list as the first victim. If anything he should view it as an honor. A privilege if you would. To face a talent of my level when I’ve never even heard of the man until now. 

Rick Walton: While you arguably do deserve better for your first entrance into the world of Strong Style, it doesn’t matter because no matter who you face in this promotion it’d end the exact same way Champion.

CM Nas: Naturally. Let’s just put it to bed now. Phantom Troupe rules the World of Wrestling! The validation for this that will be utterly undeniable will be when I climb onto the turnbuckle once the match is over and I hoist up BOTH the EAW Answers World Championship AND the SSW Puroresu Heavyweight Championship high into the air!

Rick Walton: Oh I am sure that it will be just…

CM Nas: TOO SWEET! Oh of course. I plan on claiming victory. But should Aria win the gold, I will have no gripes. However in the end Jaydayne, there’s only one thing that will come to you at Exodus. Your end.

Hakai!
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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


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on March 26th 2018, 10:53 amChase Vedder
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 pmBANG


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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