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on August 10th 2018, 11:14 pmJaydayne Pendragon
You give love a bad name.
From one lovesick fool to another, I find myself troubled, at wits end, attempting to get across what I have to say to you Mr.Corleone. Relationships aren’t supposed to be suffocating, nor all encompassing, and certainly not all defining to the people in it. Now I must admit that while its only been under a week since my love went back home after coming here to support me, I do feel a slight bit jealous that you always have your woman by your side, but delayed gratification can make the moments together all the more special. There’s nothing like two people out living their lives and getting their success coming together to bask in each other’s hard-earned glory and uplifting each other to go out for more, two people clung to each other unable to make it happen separately is a sad sight indeed. Do you feel no emotion from the fact that you had to see your cherry blossom take a loss on her own last week? Is she okay with you failing in the same way? You two can’t motivate each other to do well by yourselves? Me and my fiancée, our life is like if the couple from La La Land knew how to deal with long distance - the kind of beauty that comes with discipline. That’s right, discipline doesn’t just exist in honing your craft and body, but also by how you handle a relationship with maturity. Not surprising you know nothing about that, you don’t have the discipline to do things separately just like you don’t take care of your body, a man with a body that lacks definition comparable to a couch potato, with a flat-out potato shaped wife.
Yes I know, I’m not normally so hard on people, but someone has to do it when it comes to you.
While Sakura babies and supports underachieving, my love only pushes me to do my best, and she knows my best is in the main event! My best is on top of the world!
Because you can talk about tag gold and entertainment over wrestling all you want, but at the end of the day this place isn’t called Strong Style Wrestling with me on the marquee because the people were clamoring for a faction war title with two entertainers to be on top. You can argue about who between Jacob Senn and TCC should be signing the cheques around here, but all that matters is that the history books are written in Pendragon ink. If I were like you, I’d be slacking on this tournament too. After all, I’m the champion, and I’ve already won a tournament of my own in Heavens Arena Cup, I’ve been there and done that for the goal of everyone else here, but I’m a competitor. Being a competitor means never putting in a shoddy effort, being a competitor means you put in everything you have to be the best each and every night! The fact that you don’t live that lifestyle means you aren’t worthy of shinning the shoes of either Aria Jaxon and I, let alone walk in them, but you will have mine knock the taste out of your mouth. Wrestling never dies, and circus acts have been around since the bronze ages so don’t get it in your head that what you bring to the table is anything new. Say what you will about the wrestling community today, but what they’re into isn’t who cuts the best zingers and who has the dime piece at his side to make themselves look like “stars”, the only “stars” they have in mind are the amount given to matches. And like it or not, five-star matches are made by men like me, like it or not the highest rated matches in this decade are found here in Japan!
I may practice values you look down on, like dignity and fighting spirit, but I’m not naive. The rich don’t do things out of pure charity, a man on the wrong side of debts in the past like me knows that all too well. You TCC bloodsuckers are here because you know Japan is the new mecca!
Wrestling in Japan is like the oil in the middle east, like the diamonds in Africa, people like you and Scott Oasis are here to strip the land of everything it has to offer while you live your prosperous lives trying to convince people that your presence is beneficial. Unfortunately for you, it won’t take years of in fighting and moral collapse before we focus in on you being the problem, everyone here, even lost Ronin, see through your petty false tales of doing what’s best for the industry we love. Here Columbus isn’t greeted with open arms and shown around by some little girl, here be dragons, and here be the Rakurai! But I’m no Tesla, Mr. Edison, this electricity will be the end of you! I’ve paid off my debts, with this Puroresu gold I’ve been given a new lease on life, if you thought I was brutal before just wait until you see me when I know the food on my family’s table is secured! Imagine how I’ll be like when I don’t have to worry about if a stiff shot might land me in the dog house, meaning out of title contendership and possibly flat out not getting paid. This is Shoot Nation country now, and the sheriff is Pendragon, the lightning shogun of SSW. The execs might tolerate your smart talk and let you run your mouth to them, but if you EVER confuse me for one of them you’ll find Sakura protesting the straw ban wave in America when you go back to where you come from and you need them to suck food down your throat.
Unless that is, she’s nice enough to kiss feed you what you can no longer chew. Perhaps then you’d be thanking me, sir Corleone.

on August 10th 2018, 10:53 pmThe Apparition
Monday the 6th of August, 2018
Downtown Sendai, Miyagi Prefecture, Japan
JOYFIT24 gym, Izumi Ward
We open onto an empty and desolate gym. The walls are lined with empty exercise bikes, treadmills and rowing machines. Spread through the middle, a cavalcade of strength machines for all matter of muscles. To the back, two rooms – One for free form strength-training, and one for anaerobics.
It is in these two rooms where any sign of life can be found.
While a series of deadlift bars, kettle bells and handheld weights of varying descriptions are spread across the room in a way that would make an ardent fitness junkie furious, no-one is around to complain. All the lights are on, but the only movement throughout most of the gym exists as electronic advertisements, television sets humming from their fixtures on the wall and roof, and the neglected fans which are buzzing uselessly through the warm summer night. The only natural sounds depicting life within the establishment come from the open, glass-plated room on the lattermost room.
Thud, thud, thud. Thudthudthud. Blam. Thud.
A recognisable sound of leather on leather booms from the other, more organised room. While the rest of the gym is only kept in check by residual signs of life, technology and enterprise, it is the open stretching room where the real focus of this transmission can be found.
Pools of sweat line the floor around the gym’s punching bag, while the source of these salty excrements further contributes to the growing stench which is evident for all who walk into either of the back two rooms. Heavy combos are raining down, piercing the warm air that stagnate both inside the training centre, as well as anyone passing by. Combinations of seven, ten, and even sixteen punch series can be heard before a split second of relief. Then they pick up again as soon as they dispersed.
Always fierce. Always powerful. Always merciless. Always disheartened.
The aggression of the strikes thinly veils the melancholia of the man laying the blows. Another time he fell when he needed to rise. Another time someone was able to elevate themselves at his own expense. Another time he just wasn’t good enough.
For a man who was so determined in upholding the values of pro wrestling, his every punch made his true intentions clear. The immigrant to his ancestral lands was not the virtuous man many thought of him as, even though he never intentionally portrayed himself as such. He was a man who lived in sin, and was affected by the worst of them.
His wrath was evident, as he kept on trying to remove the punching bag from its elevated stand. He almost achieved it a couple of times, but his anger alone was not enough to fight through. Seeing the faces of not just recent foes, but foes from many years past, the warrior was seething.
His envy was signalled towards the fruits of victory his opponents had achieved from right under his nose. The chance to be a dual champion presented itself, but he had fallen short both times. Every chance he had to establish himself as a threat worthy of the respect and recognition he coveted, not just from others but from himself, was now in the hands of his enemies. And he had no way of getting it back now that it was passed.
His sloth came from his growing tiredness. He was past his peak as a performer and an athlete. His resolve was still coming out, but for how much longer?
His gluttony from his desire to achieve more than he had ever achieved before. To assimilate his ever-deteriorating body, and lining it with gold and accolades. He craved something more than he had. Hungered for it. And was left starving.
He lusted for an ideal version of himself. Someone who could reach his own lofty ideals, and to show the world that he is a standard bearer to be taken seriously. His desire was his ambition, and his ambition was going unfulfilled. These aspirations were left unrequited by reality, leaving him frustrated and unsatisfied.
His greed was simply for victory. To always compete, to win forever, and to do things better than they have ever been done before. Like all avaricious individuals, this greed was only partially filled. He promised himself the moon, and was stuck in the ozone. No matter how he reached, the brass rings he had objectified and sought-after were often just outside of his grasp. For someone who wanted them all, this was not good enough.
And finally his pride. The knowledge that he could not step down, or back down from any rival or competitor. His final sin was the main driving force behind his faux noble motives. The idea that he still had to look at himself in the mirror every day in order to continue going. The ideals he held about wrestling, which even with all of his short-comings he still acknowledged as bigger than himself. His drive to become as good as he believed he could be. His self-indulgence that he could truly rise to the top of the company, as its ace and most revered name. The hope that he could one day take off his mask and face the world again in the way that he used to. Too proud to show his weaknesses. Too proud to show himself. Hoping that one day he could once again stand in the lofty image that he had produced for himself, but knowing that he was still a fair way away from reaching such an ideal.
As the Forgotten One finished off with his routine, he coughed up a little bit of sweat that had dripped into his mouth during his final combination. It was no doubt why it happened, as his own mask was absorbed with almost a pound of sweat in and of itself. As he shook his head, almost the same quantity flicked itself down from his body to the ground. It was a disgusting sight, but The Apparition knew it was necessary if he had any hope of displacing his current preconceptions of himself into what he knew that he was capable of. Or at least what he used to be capable of.
And don’t misunderstand anything. The Apparition knew he was capable. But over the past month, he knew what had become an absolute bugbear for him. No longer was the Phantom Troupe his biggest cross the bear. Now, it was the formally forgettable group ironically known as Ronin. The two kids known as Himura and Stevens had given him a lot of strife, with one even managing to defeat him on the big stage.
With all of the vigour of Brutus and Cassius, the two young lions taught The Apparition well to Beware the Ides of March. A time of ceremony and celebration had turned into depravity and despair, but still the warrior did not fall to the slings and arrows of his outrageous fortune. No, instead it was time to move on. His Ides had turned into a summer of discontent. But now was he time to move forward. To move from the March…To April.
on August 10th 2018, 10:37 pmFalke Halstenberg
SSW Promo #1: “The Dog Often Kicked.”

(Word Count: 1,402)

*Falke sits upon a chair in his hotel room, examining a blanket between his hands. He smiles a bit before looking towards the camera*

Falke: What does a blanket symbolize? Comfort? Home? Something that makes you feel safe and warm in the cold nights and something that you can hug close to you when you aren't feeling at your best. It is… the embodiment of something often taken for granted.

*Falke then puts his hand to his chin as he gathers his thoughts for a moment. He rustles the blanket a bit in his hands*

Falke: I took for granted not having a partner. You see, wrestling in a tag team is a double edged sword. Sometimes you're on an equal level with your partner, sometimes you feel like your partner has carried you toward a victory… yet sometimes you feel like your partner is what is holding you down toward defeat. Maelstrom did so, and while I would never outright call another member of the Phantom Troupe weak, I would say that at Domination, Maelstrom did not bring his a-game. Maelstrom was pinned and the Phantom Troupe did something that the Phantom Troupe does not often do. We lost that battle to the Shoot Nation, yes… but the war… The war has yet to be decided has it not? Aria lost to Jaydayne as well… but we have won so many times against the Shoot Nation.. I refuse to believe that the once they emerge victorious that they then claim victory over a yet finished war. That is not the way that war works.

*Falke sighs before putting the blanket back down on the hotel bed and sitting down once again. He folds one leg over the other as he lets his eyes wander the room. He finally sets them on the camera again, with a focused look*

Falke: No matter… that is not what I have to worry about this week. As I have a match against a member of the Ronin… Ah yes, the Ronin, the outcasts... the oddities… the unmentionables of the SSW. As the faction with the most shoddy and unreliable win loss record, you must truly feel left out in the debate of which faction is the best. This is because it obviously isn't a sniveling pack of dogs from no litter the same, and absolutely fitting it is so. The Phantom Troupe, as it were are thuroughbreds, hunting down the other factions and tearing them apart piece by piece until we have become the leader of the pack. Arguably, no puppy has been kicked quite as much as Damien Walker.

*Falke smiles as clips of Damien Walker losing to Kerry Keller, Vanessa Santiago and others play. Clips of Walker being hit with finisher after finisher and being pinned time and time again*

Falke: Another fitting motif this is, as you claim to be the man that can take the most punishment in the SSW. Yet you have proved absolutely nothing to anybody, in fact… one moment I can think of something you've proved. You've proved that you can be every faction's punching bag. From what I heard you were once promising as a possible second command to Ronin leader Tarah Nova. She seems as if she has different things to worry about in her home country though, and you are stuck in Japan facing me. Oh what a glorious day it is isn't it Walker? When another member of Ronin completes the status quo by going down like the starving dog like they are. Truly Walker, you do have many characteristics of a starving dog, you snarl through your teeth without a kill to speak of, you are ravenous and hungry… but you don't have any meat because you're weak. You even look as if you're homeless! Even though I'm quite under the assumption that every Ohio native looks as if they're homeless. You are grimy and lack the technical skill needed to stand across from me in a wrestling ring. You claim to be a man of an aggressive and hardcore style, but all I've seen of you is taking loss after loss. You're not even in the situation Shinati was in when I put him on his neck. He had strung together a few losses, yes… but at least he is capable of winning a bout. You on the other hand, well you're a different story are you not? You do nearly nothing except lose, I'd call you the liability of your faction but the Ronin has nobody with a stellar record. They have nobody who has set a good example, likely because they just are not good.

*Falke leans back in the chair and kicks his feet up on the desk provided to him by the hotel. He gets a bit comfortable before continuing to speak*

Falke: As far as this tournament goes… it means much to me. It means a way to prove my caliber and acumen to the management team of Strong Style Wrestling. It proves that I deserve to be main eventing shows and challenging for championships. It proves that not only Strong Style Wrestling, but the world, will become accustomed to the traditional and effective style that Falke Halstenberg brings to the table. But first I have to bring that style to six other competitors. Starting with Damien Walker. Might he be the easiest victory I've ever been handed? I'd be almost certain because the man doesn't know the thrill of a bout that has been won. Walker, do you find losing to be fun? Do you find that being the worse performer of two just lightens your day? If not, I do not understand why you continue to participate in something you are so obviously ungifted in. As for me, my body and mind were created for the sport of wrestling, I am the finest mental specimen to ever step foot in an SSW ring… HELL, I am the finest physical specimen to ever step foot in a WRESTLING ring.

*Clips of Falke’s catch wrestling bouts are played, dominant takedowns and perfect positioning as well as fancy footwork lead him to multiple victories. He wears a German uniform proudly in these clips, and seems to smile smugly after every victory. Loving to assert his dominance over a would-be opponent*

Falke: I have yet found nobody in the world who can match me hold for hold, clinch for clinch in a wrestling ring. Lo, it seems that this day will not come soon as my next opponent wouldn't know what catch wrestling was if it hit him across the face. We are not having a hardcore match, Walker. We are having a wrestling match. You claim to relish in the pain an opponent inflicts on you… Yet you've never met me, I will be the man to break you. I will be the one to give you the pain that will make you cry out in true agony and torture. You can say you enjoy pain, but there is a moment where every threshold is broken. I will find your weak point and expose it, I will force you to bow, like Shinati before you… to the new regime of Falke Halstenberg. I would suggest that the other competitors in my block watch their heads, lest they be taken off their shoulders with a swift and powerful strike from the great Falke Halstenberg. It is not a matter of if when you stand across​ from me in a wrestling ring, but a matter of when I will defeat you and further my legacy. In the end Walker, as usual you are a non-factor, a man with much to prove and nothing proven. A man who no doubt many of the competitors in this block have already circled out as an easy few points upon victory. How can I blame them? I have the pleasure of taking you down before all the others. The privelage of making you once again look foolish in front of the entirety of Ronin, every fan in the arena, and all of Strong Style Wrestling. Welcome to the new regime, Walker… you will either bow willingly, or I will force you to bow.

*Falke rises to his feet and walks to the camera, only allowing his face to be shown as he utters one final word*

on August 10th 2018, 8:56 pmScott Oasis
What a mixed bag of a weekend.

I started it off the best way possible. I took over all of Japanese media when I touched down on Friday; I got the whole country talking about my appearance as usual. Pictures taken, interviews done, press conferences sat through, I made my rounds and when Saturday evening came I showed that celebrity style red carpet that was rolled out for me had been well deserved when I absolutely BATTERED Gronk. I defeated the man in record time, a matter of a few short minutes! Just like I promised I would. God, how satisfying it was to do so. That was the man that everyone was fighting so hard to claim was the next version of me. Everyone was making side by side comparisons of us, seeing how our stats stacked up, seeing how we wrestle, how we look, coming up with all of these vague, bullshit similarities we had so they could prop up our eventually meeting as some sort of “dream match” like we were ever in the same league. Gronk was nothing like me, he wishes he could be good enough to lace my boots but SSW did their best to justify the thought of him being so much as a SLIGHT threat to me or my position as the best big man in the game. I was supposed to be sweating thinking about facing him! He was the chosen one meant to run me out! He was Phantom Troupe’s unbeatable secret weapon! People were so ready to send me out and declare Gronk as next up, especially since Jaydayne Pendragon somehow got lucky and beat me at Budokai. I might as well have been dead in the water in the eyes of some. Hearing all of the commentators and analysts in the build up to the match acting like he was going to go in that ring and wash me…...I was so ready to prove them wrong. I couldn’t wait to get my hands on Gronk and shock the industry by humiliating the latest pet project!

When I called him out I had a clear plan in mind that I had no doubt I would succeed in. I had set out to show the world what my so called competition really looks like when put to the test against a true main eventer: a bunch of outmatched children. Simply mediocre with a stupid gimmick or attraction to sell them on. Compared to me most wrestlers are just a poor product disguised in a flashy wrapper and that’s exactly what Gronk was which boggles my mind as to how you sheep could have possibly been afraid of him. Gronk had the muscles and the look but he had no brain at all and worst of all he had no talent. He was a disgrace to this business that I was able to recognize from a mile away and I knew I’d be the one to expose him to the masses. Beating him was so satisfying and such a great moment because it was a statement made to every single one of those boys in the back every single one of my detractors sitting their fat asses at home. I’m not going away anytime soon and I’m going to have my foot firmly pressed on your necks from now on. If you can’t cut it, if you don’t belong, I will point you out and I will cast you off. Gronk aint coming back.

He’s never reaching that level of popularity or mystique again in his life. I took that away from him. Because of me he went from being the ace in the hole for the most overrated stable of all time to being made an example. He was meant to be my successor but now he’s just another guy you’ll look at and think “oh yeah, he was on TV wasn’t he?”.  Knowing I did that it something I will never forget. Neither will the people who banked on that clown. They know who the real deal is now. It was a great night for me. It’s too bad that I went from crazy highs to dramatic lows in just a matter of twenty four hours. I take a private jet from Japan to get to Hawaii and compete at Strong Style Wrestling’s sister promotion, OWA. “Boiling Point! The biggest event of the summer for any American promotion”. I go there looking to do what I did with Gronk. Humble some low level wrestlers. But that didn’t happen. Instead I left that show with no victory, no titles and no partner. Me and my camp were robbed. A good weekend soured. I promised victory and instead was made a fool of. They defeated me but it felt like I lost more than a match. I lost a tag partner and even more so….I lost my pride. I’m now carrying a huge monkey on my back that I’m dying to get rid of and that’s getting revenge on the sons of bitches that are the Wolvesden. I’ve spent two weeks now plotting on it and the only reason I’ve even take a break from it by showing myself to the public….is because of my obligation to the Best in The World series. I was so ready to be involved in this tournament when it was in its preliminary stages and now that it’s in full swing some people wonder if I’m in the right state to perform. Don’t get it twisted. Even in my worst state mentally I’m twice the performer that anyone on this lineup is. Though I have all of this stuff in my mind and a lot of my focus is on what’s happening in the U.S. I still have full intent of carrying on with my takeover of Japan. Strong Style Wrestling still is going to be my domain and this BITW series is my opening which I refuse to pass on. I’m winning this whole thing.

I’m not taking ANY losses in my block and that especially goes toward my opponent Belle Kingsley - a WOMAN. Make no mistakes about it, I’m not being sexist here, I’m just calling it how it is. She has no place with me. I know the females have thrived in SSW considering 90% of the men signed to the promotion are the same build as they are but with a real athlete like me you’ll see the reason for why proper divisions are usually necessary. Remove gender from the equation if you want and think of this as wrestler vs wrestler, it’ll still end bad for her. I’m coming off of the momentum of my victory to Gronk and the anger over my loss in the states. I have a reputation to maintain and some frustrations to let loose meaning you’re going to be getting a very restless, blood thirsty Oasis. I know you want to put up a brave act and act like you stand a chance Belle, but you and I both know that’s some grade A bullshit. You’re so fucked in this first round match it’s almost unbelievable. If Gronk, a mountain of a man with barely any losses couldn’t make it past five minutes, how are YOU - a girl a fifth of his size who struggles to put away Kikyo - is going to handle a match with me? Be realistic. Stop lying to yourself. Your determination can’t trump my superiority. I respect the fire but I’ll still snuff it out. Everyone always wants to boss up to me until they get their chin checked and you’ll be no different.

Easy points.
on August 10th 2018, 2:46 pmThe One True Pairing

(Cassius Corleone - dressed in an expensive suit with sunglasses on - is shown standing in front of an oversized portrait of Sakura Corleone, looking visibly upset. After several moments, he tries to keep himself calm before taking off his sunglasses and placing them in his lapel.)

Cassius: First of all, I would like to dedicate this match to my beloved Sakura, who I look forward to seeing in the Finals of this Tournament.

(Cassius looks back at the portrait of Sakura behind him before reluctantly turning his focus back towards the camera.)

Cassius: You win some, and you lose some. We lose, and we move on and we work towards getting our redemption. That’s how it goes, right? I mean, Sakura and I have spent our entire lives facing defeat and ALWAYS taking it back, simply because we are capable of that. We take back what belongs to us, because there is no other option. We were given everything we wanted growing up together, but what all that we truly wanted was each other when it all came down to it. Everything else… Everything else was just a consolation prize. But we had our reasons. We always had our reasons. We took things to prove our superiority. We took things to give as gifts to each other. We especially loved taking things so others couldn’t have them. Right now at this very moment, my Cherry Blossom and I would love nothing more than to take back OUR Lovebird Tag Team Championships. Right now, we would already have them back in our possession and all would be right with the World. However, when we requested our guaranteed rematch…

(Cassius looks in disbelief as he chuckles and shakes his head.)

Cassius: Jacob Senn says to us, “At the moment, you are both partaking in the Best In The World Series Tournament, so we would rather that you focus on that for now and then you will receive your rematch once it’s over. In the meantime, other pairings will compete for the Championships.”

(Cassius holds up two fingers.)

Cassius: Two months. We will be waiting two months to contend for the Championships that belong to us. The Championships that should be around our waists right now as if we’d never lost them. We have to sit here and play with the likes of you people for two months because this company believes we are simply too good for this nonexistent division’s own good. Instead of being the Tag Team World Champions right now, I have to stand here without my Cherry Blossom and waste my time. We have to waste OUR precious time. And on what? This THING in front of me? This freak with half of his face painted? Is that how you try to look intimidating? Oh I’m gonna show you how to look intimidating. I’m gonna wrap my hands around your scrawny throat and choke the life out of you in front of these people you think you’re the Champion of. See, it’s not even a personal thing with you, Pendragon. There’s nothing personal about it. I don’t know you, and I don’t need to know you. But what you carry with you is the Championship that’s supposedly the crown jewel of this piece of garbage company. A Championship that this entire Tournament is dedicated to, in fact.

No. Nope. Not gonna happen. See, the Championship you carry has absolutely no value to it in my eyes. Never has, and never will. I wish I could tell you that tomorrow night you will get the absolute BEST of Cassius Corleone, but that would be a lie. You won’t get the best of me. You will never get the best of me because you spend your time wasting your breath on a meaningless little trinket. At most, you will get roughly 50% of Cassius Corleone’s best. That’s it. That’s how much I think of you. That’s how much you matter to me as a competitor and as the so-called “World Champion”. The other 50% of my focus will be dedicated to the future where my Cherry Blossom and I regain our Lovebird Tag Team Championships and move on like nothing ever happened. As if this Tournament were nothing short of a fever dream that we woke up from. There’s no doubt in my mind that you want to prove what a great honor it is to be the Champion that you are and to prove that you are the best in that ring, but win or lose, it doesn’t matter and it never will. You hold no more value to me than the dirt that sticks to the bottom of my shoes when I walk around this desolate company.

The Championship you hold right now is stained by a worthless woman who equally valued that trinket, and guess what, you won’t make a difference. You’ll stain it just like she did. Because you, Pendragon, are a lie. Everything about you. The way you dress, the way you carry yourself, and everything you and your Shoot Nation buddies dedicate yourselves to. See, I’m not here to win a match. I’m here to tell idiots like you exactly how it is. I don’t give a shit if you speak English or Japanese, because the only language you spit out is “lies”. You dedicated yourself to a craft that’s gone long since out of style, and no… I don’t mean your precious “shoot” wrestling. I mean wrestling. All of it. You think anyone cares about wrestling anymore? Grow up. People only care about being entertained. They care about STARS. This pathetic company lives and breathes because of a faction you and so many others dislike like Tres Comas Club. Our money burns on the dumpster fire that is Strong Style Wrestling, and for what? Because we aim to shape it into something that audiences all across the World can enjoy, instead of the losers that remain so loyal to people like you and the rest of Shoot Nation. People that are the minority now and the minority forever. You think people tune in to these shows to see someone like YOU? They’ve seen people like you for years. Your schtick has been done before and by better men, but what TRULY glues them to their screens is people like Sakura and Cassius Corleone. People that give them a show. I have no doubt you’re disgusted by the people that inhabit a faction like Tres Comas Club, but when you go home to your wife and your kids or whatever family you have, you’ll slap that signed check on the table and tell them that you all get to eat tonight. You think that’s because of Jacob Senn? You think that’s because of ANYONE who runs this company? It’s because of us. It’s because of Tres Comas Club. It’s because of the funds of people like the One True Pairing. We pay to rent this company out as our playground and we’ll do it for as long as we want until we move on to somewhere else, this company dries up and dies like it deserves to, and people like you become a thing of the past until everyone forgets you even existed.

I don’t want this. I don’t want you. I want my Sakura. I want OUR Tag Team World Championships, and if I have to get through someone like you to get there, then so be it. You’re not worth my time, but it’s whatever. If I lose, this Tournament, I get to move on and forget it ever happened. And if I win this Tournament? If I go on to challenge you for that Puroresu World Championship and take it? I’ll have it melted down into a nice necklace to put around the neck of my Cherry Blossom, and that will end the ballad of both that toy and the man who believed in honor and pride and fighting spirit. Both of them will be gone in their own special ways. You’ve wasted enough of my time as it is. Show up, get in the ring, prove whatever meaningless shit you have to prove, and go far away from me, because you have absolutely nothing that I want. I want my Sakura. Beating you and taking that trinket is just a consolation. Nothing more, nothing less. Done.

(Cassius walks off without saying a word before the camera cuts to black.)
on August 10th 2018, 9:32 amAndré Virgo
Who is you? Big and strong man? Do you think being big and strong is all you need to be a champion? No. Champions are stars. Champions have heart. You may be a powerful man who picks up a lot of weight and puts it down, but you’re no match for the power of the universe.

I’ve made my name for myself, you let yourself fade into irrelevance. Possibly because you continue to associate with men like Tomazeya who are more interested in their own legacy than what’s good for his students. I got myself here. I reached the top of every place I wrestled for by myself. I could have been trained by anyone and still been a star. I’ve done more in my short career in the spotlight than Tomazeya did over the course of years. I have no respect for you or anyone else who continues to follow his self serving “guidance.”

The only thing I owe is the stars for guiding me down the path of glory. I’m sorry that you can’t say the same.

You may have ragdolled me from corner to corner and mutilated my forehead but you will never defeat me in a sanctioned battle to decide who is the better competitor. Because your strength is no replacement for skill. I am among the greatest in the galaxy and you are merely a mortal hoping to gain the strength of a God. But no matter how much you may lift, it will never change what you are.
on August 10th 2018, 8:57 amRacer Smiles
Why be so afraid of the dark? Because you never know the monsters that might come out of the shadows to strike you down.

Take what I did to you as a taste of what’s to come. I don’t care about leadership or titles, I care about results. As I’ve faded into irrelevance you’ve risen higher and higher. Beating Miltiades, BANG, Jacob Senn, all men who if they stood across from me would be left in the ring broken and unrecognizable. Instead I guess I’ll have to settle for doing that to a traitor like André Virgo. Tomazeya guided me on the way to making my strength and power mean something. He taught you how to be a star. You don't even appreciate that he gave you the opportunity to run away from reality and live in a fantasy world where you hold some importance. But everyone has to wake up at some point.

Who knows the name of Racer Smiles? The Tres Comas grunt. I’m not flashy or intriguing nor do I live for the applause of peasants. I’m the Chief Strongman. While you live to have all eyes on you, my goal is to make something hard to look at. You’re on top of the world right now but Icarus is flying closer and closer to me and the closer you get the more likely I am to rip the wings from your back leaving nothing behind but a splatter on the ground.

I don’t need to explain why I will win our match. Look at me and look at you. It’s clear who’s stronger and more powerful. Do you hear the drums in the distance? They grow louder and louder. My figure steps over the horizon. You clutch your crown on the top of your hill, but you have no army to defend yourself from the Chief Strongman come to conquer your world. It doesn’t matter who came before me who you defeated. You’ve never faced me.

I have no reason to continue speaking. My power speaks for itself. You’ll experience despair at my hand soon enough.

Everyone wants to be King…

on August 10th 2018, 2:09 amMiltiades
And my time here has brought me something that I’ve always said I will obtain. Whether it was in the distant past or the near future, I knew I would get what was coming to me. And in that moment I also showed that I surpass any and all those who want to face me within in Tres Comas, the undisputed leader and one man worthy of making the claim as such. And one week ago I showed the world that they are looking at the one who is going to take that title off of Andre Virgo. He beat me once, but that was with the embarrassment that is GREED and Jaywalker getting in my way and letting their stupidity get in my way. Now Virgo gets to face the man behind the power, the man people regard as legend. He gets to face Miltiades, and my militia will grow and grow with the recognition that I give around the world. This Best in the World tournament, this little shit show of a festival, it’s can’t go without saying that the people who are in it do not exude brilliance, they do not exude bravery, they just wanted to “give everyone a chance” because had I been included, I would bury everyone involved. I would take that title of Best in the World, and I would take the title of Junior Heavyweight from Virgo or Racer, whom ever it is. It’s not a thing I worry about, it’s destiny, it’s my prophecy, and it’s a calling that we are all going to have to get used too. Because people like Racer, they’re given this opportunity out of spite. People want Virgo overthrown, not because they hate him, but they want someone to do it before me. Virgo if I dethrone you, you would gain clout from it, you would be one of Miltiades’s Victims and that is something more than you would get if someone who was a no one does it. If you lose to Racer, Virgo, you would just fall into a category of no one. You wouldn’t be worthy of anything. But if you lose to me, you gain notoriety, you gain the respect of others, because a select few who lose to Miltiades are because that person is going to be catapulted to new heights. Because being beaten by a prodigy isn’t a shame, it’s a glory, it’s a favor. Virgo you’re going to win, you’re going to face me, and we’re going to show the world why we shake the world. We’re going to show why this rivalry is one that shouldn’t be shadowed.

But enough of Virgo I must talk about my opponent of the week. Unlike Virgo, Senza, you’re just the villain of the week. You don’t have character, you don’t have clout, you’re an unknown and are one that I’m going to steam roll like no other. People want me to beat people of worth, you are not that man, Senza. You are taking spotlight from someone worthy. Those who fall to me had a purpose, a purpose I beat out of them, and then I made them realize that what they’re facing, they need to recount and regroup. Because if they don’t the world will spit them out and I’ll be there to stomp more on their goopy mess of a body. They won’t be remembered if they don’t do anything with life. They won’t be remember if they don’t do anything to change they will be left in the wind and I’ll be there to ravage them. Senza you have an impressive record, but you don’t have the passion, you don’t have the guts for me to even give you attention. I need you to work harder, I need you to do more, because if you don’t this is just going to be one-sided and no one wants that. People will waste money, you will waste your pants, and I will have wasted my time doing this for you. Yes for you, because this isn’t a privilege it’s a commodity that you get a match with Miltiades. The future and the leader of Tres Comas Club. You are facing a bright facet of the company and if you think you can anything about it, you are wrong. Senza come with all you have to offer because if you don’t I’ll give you everything you can’t handle and make you realize that this isn’t for you.
on August 8th 2018, 2:12 pmBelle Kingsley
At Domination, I did it.

I defeated Kikyo Himura. There are going to be people in this promotion that are going to make this victory seem like nothing. They’ll say things like: “Kikyo was nothing more than a punching bag” or “She lost to Vanessa Santiago” or my personal favorite, “Belle, you just got lucky!” As much as I want to say that I am proving my worth to Shoot Nation and that I can win a match on my own, there are going to be people that say I can’t “win when it counts”. I don’t blame them at all. As much as I want this victory over Kikyo to eliminate these past failures, that will not be happening. The closest I can get to eliminating these failures, you ask? For starters, I can begin to step the fuck up and win matches. I like to say that I did that at Domination and would hope to continue that momentum as I begin this run in the Best in the World Tournament. I wanna approach this tournament and think I have a chance of winning, but you look at the competitors in these brackets and can be quite intimidating. We have the former SSW Puroresu Heavyweight Champion, Aria Jaxon. We have the CURRENT SSW Puroresu Heavyweight Champion in our heroic leader, Jaydayne Pendragon. He was someone who won the Heavens Arena Cup. I know that he would love nothing more than to be given the opportunity to decide his Wrestle Spirit opponent. As you go down the bracket, you have those like myself that would love nothing more than to prove to themselves. You got men like Kai Stevens and Steven Cassidy. You have The Apparition and Shinati Mizarki. As much as I would love another tournament win to go to Shoot Nation, I would love it even more if I were the woman to bring this victory home. Despite the victory at Domination, I would not blame anyone if they still cannot believe that Belle Kingsley has what it takes to win. As you look at my opponent to begin this whole series, it may be something of concern. I don’t know about anyone, but I am getting flashbacks of my loss over Gronk and it’s was not pleasant at all. It stung to lose close to the finals of the Heavens Cup Arena, but by this opponent this week, I have my concerns as well as he was able to defeat the unconquerable Gronk at Domination.

Yes, I am talking about Scott Oasis.

As much as I hate to put Scott and Gronk in the same category, I have to do just that. As you look at these two men, you can see that these are two giants. These are two men who have caused havoc and destruction everywhere they go. Yet, their winning records aren’t the best. If I can recall, Scott’s victory over Gronk is probably the biggest victory he’s gotten in SSW. He walked through that curtain and he believed that he was going to be the toughest son of a gun to walk through. He thought that he was going to dominate this company due to his size and intimidation. He did for a hot second. He managed to interrupt Jaydayne’s post-match speech and destroy the living hell out of him, but that almost seems like nothing since Jaydayne managed to defeat him at Budokai Tenkaichi. Jaydayne proved that Scott Oasis wasn’t some immortal force that can never lose. Sure, Scott dominated Jaydayne, but he did not walk away with the victory needed to establish his dominance over SSW. He can strut around the SSW locker room and brag about his victory over Gronk. Gronk was known as The Phantom Troupe’s heavy. He was known as the man that was almost a meme at some point. He was known as a man who destroyed everyone in his path. For that, I gotta give him props for that because that was something I was not able to do. That was a victory in which I could have gotten for myself when we squared off. In a way, I see this match being something I can use to redeem myself in a certain way. It’s not Gronk, but to defeat a man in which people are intimidated by, that could label as someone people need to pay attention to in this tournament. If I defeat Scott, then there is a chance that I can survive this series. There is a chance that I could see myself advancing and possibly win this entire thing. With Gronk no longer the unstoppable force thanks to Scott Oasis, does that make Scott Oasis the unstoppable force? Should I be worried about that? I am not going to underestimate Scott. However, I don’t want Scott to underestimate me. I am more than just a blonde in Shoot Nation. I am more than a woman who has fought until her least breathe in every match that she has been a part of. I am a woman who constantly needs to prove her worth not only to Shoot Nation, but to all of these fans. That starts with you, Scott.
on August 5th 2018, 11:45 pmMiles Taylor
Message reputation : 100% (1 vote)
We come in on an empty concrete room. A light shines down from the ceiling, revealing nothing but a man in a gray hoodie sitting in a lone, wooden chair facing away from the camera. With his head hung, we are still able to hear the words that come from his mouth.
Strong Style Wrestling…you’ve got some real balls pulling this stunt.”
The man slowly stands up, his back still to the camera. His head lifts, but he doesn’t turn his attention towards the lens.
I mean, you could’ve just been unaware, in which case, that might be forgivable…but I know better. I know just how closely OWA and SSW are aligned, I know how closely they pay attention to each other, and that’s why I know better than to think that Strong Style hasn’t seen what I’m capable of, and why I’m so disrespected by my match this week. Now don’t get me wrong…it’s not an issue with card placement. Matter of fact, I find it only fitting that my first match here is the exact same as my first match over in OWA: a triple threat. However, this time, I’m not taking on a man who views himself as a deity, and a man who gives his soul every night to make sure the fans go home happy – instead, I’m facing two men who I refuse to take seriously, because they don’t even take themselves seriously.
The man, slowly turning around, removes his hood, revealing himself to be “The Southbound Strangler”, “The Kansas City Kid” himself, Miles Taylor. Both of Taylor’s fists are clenched, his teeth gritted, and his face morphed into an absolute scowl.
Let me tell you about my opposition for Sunday night: first, Pequeno Asesino. When I first read this name? I was actually kinda…ecstatic, in a way. After doing some research, I noticed that Asesino is a luchador, a type of competitor I’ve never faced in the ring before. Then, as I dug deeper, I grew dissatisfied with what I found. Strong Style Wrestling has me booked against a literal sideshow act. A circus escapee is standing across the ring from me Sunday night, and when we’re in that ring together, he’s going to learn that whatever hardships he faced during those days are absolutely nothing compared to what he’s gonna experience when I take my hands, and I clench them around his throat. He’ll realize that he had it easy, and that’ll become even more apparent as the match goes on, and my grip gets tighter, and eventually his own, human skin is gonna look like a mask, because I’m gonna choke “El Gran Corazon” until his own flesh is BLACK AND BLUE.
The frustration of the situation has clearly gotten to Miles, he takes his opportunity to stretch his hands and take a deep breath, lowering his head as he attempts to calm himself down. After loosening up a little bit, Miles does some neck stretches before looking back into the camera, continuing his promo.
The worst part of it is…at least Pequeno brings something to the ring. Acrobatics, aerial splendor, he at least has something to give to the audience, not that their opinion matters, and believe me, it doesn’t. But at least the masked man has something to offer. Our other opponent? Penance? His whole charade bothers me almost just as much, if not more so. Here, we have a man who truly wants to hurt his opponents. He wants to assault them. He wants them to bleed, to be in anguish, and in that regard, Penance? I actually respect those wishes. But here’s where we differ: YOU want to be the man that maims people. YOU want to be the man who physical torments whoever steps in the ring with him, but YOU hide behind face paint, and call yourself a clown. I don’t care that you’re big, I don’t care that you’re sinister, all I care about is the fact that just like anyone else who dons a goofy wig and a big red nose, you’re an absolute joke, and the only man who’s gonna be laughing in that opening triple threat is gonna be me as I dig two fingers into your nostrils and rip your nose – your real, attached, human nose that you were born with – and rip it straight from your face.
Miles is now holding up the two fingers he believes he’ll be using to perform the deed he just described. He’s also now taken a couple of steps closer to the camera, his eyes widened as he lets his aggression get the better of him.
I said at the beginning of my promo that this match was gonna be a little different from my debut triple threat for one reason: these men take themselves nowhere near as seriously as my original opponents did. But this match also has one thing in common with my debut: I’m gonna make these men hurt. I’m gonna take Penance, and I’m gonna choke him with his own tongue. I’m gonna take Pequeno, and I’m gonna pull, and pull, and pull, and pull, AND PULL ON THAT MASK, UNTIL HIS HEAD COMES CLEAN OFF!
Miles’ fists are now up by his chin, clenched to the point his knuckles are changing color, as now only his neck and face are visible in the frame. As his nostrils continuously flare with every breath he takes, Taylor finishes off what he wants to say.
You don’t wanna take me seriously yet, Strong Style Wrestling? That’s fine. But soon enough, I’m gonna make you. And your belief that I can’t hang with the heavyweights, will either
With that, Miles’ stare just lingers at the camera. Eventually, his angry demeanor morphs into a smirk, and he turns his back once again towards the camera. As he walks away, he picks up the wooden chair that was placed behind him and walks forwards into the darkness, eventually getting so far into the black that he’s no longer able to be seen by the camera. Once this is the case, the camera itself fades to black, ending the segment.
on August 5th 2018, 11:29 pmKhmoach Sangkat
Message reputation : 100% (1 vote)
As children we are born frail and useless.

We are born with few means of our own.

But who were we to care?

When we are children everything is beautiful. All life is full of whimsy and bliss. Everything is new and exciting, and we welcome the world with open arms, instinctively longing for nothing but to experience it. That is, we wish to absorb the world, all it's gifts and all it's lessons… We long to grow up. And then we do. Get to a certain age and the hormones begin to hijack our intellect. You just about feel like you are pulling back the reins on them when life hits you all at once thrown at your head. A career. Ambitions. Money in the bank. A roof over your head. A BMW you only drive to be keeping up with the Joneses. And for many, all of those unresolved hormones still. We live for most of our lives contending with the most intense physical, sexual, emotional, occupational, social and material attachments. Fighting for them. Suffering under them. The only mercy is the knowledge that this stage is not meant to last forever. Time is a flat circle, you see. We are born into this world with weak, useless bodies and a boundless sense of wonder and bliss. And in our twilight years the stage is set for our return to this state, isn’t it so? Our bodies start to become frail and weak like the day we like the day we are born. When we are finally too useless to fulfill our responsibilities we are freed of them. In the past, the old seeing their time fade would retreat from the world and into the forests to return to this childlike state of bliss. Once again finding beauty in the world they are preparing to leave behind. And marking each fleeting moment with whimsical delight.

There they would live uselessly

Living out their days with few means of their own.

Dying without a care.

Nowadays the forest is more often replaced by the nursing home and the hospice. The bliss of childlike liberation substituted for the chemical bliss of morphine as it eases one back into the void. The distinction is not important. In every way that matters they are entirely the same. This is the natural life course. This is the one thing proscribed by heaven and society alike. Beyond a certain age you must entrust, then simply fade away.

But as if I would consider such a thing?

I should hope I am still many years away from considering my final moments. After all, if whom the God's love die young. Then I will leave very old bones indeed before I will ever be allowed to let go of this world. Dear father way denied his final years of bliss, and I will deny myself my own for a little longer. It is after all, the Phantom Troupe way. We make all of the demands. And all that we demand is nothing else but only everything. A simple concept, yet one that always seem to forget. One after the other the claims have come calling for my ambition to lie by the roadside, yet whatever reasons any have had for believing themselves ready to carry the weight of my Heritage have fallen short. Be it Shoot Nation’s delusions of deserving conduct and of fighting spirit. Or Tarah Nova’s mistaken idea that the will to wanton violence would be sufficient to break me. All who have come have learned that there is no force equal to the bonds of my desire. I have become far too attached to surrender my ambition. And far too proud to allow myself rendered childlike for the sake of bliss. I am The true menace of The Phantom Troupe, and I will cast a haunting shadow over SSW for a long time to come.

Now the opportunity arises for me to merely confirm what I already know. I am the one who has worn gold for as many days as SSW has existed. I am the one our Puroresu Heavyweight Champion  failed to match. And soon I shall be the one properly called the “best in the world" thus fulfilling even the wildest pipedreams of a slaughtered father.

It all begins here. An unfamiliar matchup against a Young Boy of all things. Sure, Kai Stevens has strung a few victories together. Nobodies really. Who even is Jack Ryland? Why should I care that The Apparition, a man who has never achieved anything in years as venerable as mine and whom I put to sleep with ease, has failed miserably again? A prospect Stevens might be, but for now he is just another entitled millennial who needs to learn than children need to be seen and not heard. He might confuse with how much hot air he blows but he has nothing to say. He doesn't really understand the situation he has found himself in.

You see, you can't just put an old head on young shoulders. They don't know how to carry it. Some people will see the confidence coming out of this Young Boy and they buy into it. Like… they think it'll give him an edge. As if intonation were a measure of proof. Some people will take what they have seen and heard from Kai Stevens as just about all they need to hold him up as something special, like some kind of wunderkid towering over his peers. But Khmaoch Sȃngkȃt has been around the block a few times. I can honestly say that this Stevens kid is no different to any number of Young Boys that I’ve seen get just a bit too proud, too confident in themselves.You know what I am saying… right? I never pictured myself having to explain the fucking birds and the bees this week but basically… There comes a time in every Young Boy’s life when changes start to happen to their bodies. The voice drops a couple of tones. Fluff starts to gather on his little chin. He starts to grow his first hairs on his dicksack and just like that his whole system one day is flooded with hormones that start to exert themselves on everything he does. The Young Boy, still not yet a Young Man, starts to do things that are out of character. He starts to say things that he never once would have allowed his parents to hear him say before. “Fuck” is his new favourite word. It probably comes down to some repressed bullshit about why none of the girls at school want to suck his chipolata sized prick. But who really knows? The only other thing he can say in between fists against the door is some version of a ramble about how everyone is an idiot who doesn’t respect him enough for the vast contribution he makes by just fucking being there. Some see a prodigy running hot and buoyed by confidence. But what I see is another hormonal Young Boy just going through an angsty phase and saying whatever shit floats to the top of his head first. It’s only normal. It’s just how the life cycle goes. Believe it or not, in some ways it is perfectly functional. But the thing about all of the hormone-fuelled drivel coming out of Kai Steven’s mouth is that I don’t really give two shits about it. I’m not some skinny-waisted bitch he wants to stick his dick inside. I don’t give a damn about how hard he is for himself right now. He might not seem to know either way yet, but Kai Stevens does NOT want to fuck with me.

He talks of new tricks? I have forgotten more ways to destroy a man than you will ever learn, Kai. Remember only the best survive. You are never too young to have your career shattered right but an old man like me knows enough to say he has nothing to worry about here. You’ll know the sayings. Winning is a habit. And old habits die hard. By any means necessary isn't just a mantra. It's in my blood. It's an instinct. One that has served well over the years as I have dismantled countless opponents and left them in bloody horror in my wake. I have come out on top consistently over a timeline unrivalled by that of anyone else in the promotion. More than 6 months. And while at times I've used a poachers methods to get what I want, the old poacher makes the best gamekeeper, isn't it? I've heard that nowadays all of the big corporations and government bodies are paying the kind of hackers who once caused them so much trouble to do it all over again. They are inviting these scoundrels to join themselves, arms open wide in welcome and why? Because it takes a life long scoundrel to learn every trick in the book. Stay upon the road that is straight and narrow and you’ll only see so much of the world. But going to those places where you’re told not to? You’ll find a few things there that you won’t find anywhere else.

Knowing how to win titles and knowing how to defend your spot from upstarts are no different. And in both cases I know what I am doing. I get it, Kai. You are all grown up now. You are an athlete and will not stand to be treated like some useless child. But I am far from ready to retire a frail and childlike husk of man. If anything, I am at the peak of my powers. More than able to plunge into unconscious darkness any who dare stand before me. I don't care how good you think you are. The question isn't whether I win only whether you live to compete again.

I will render you frail and useless.

You will find no means to combat me.

And nobody will even care.
on August 5th 2018, 10:44 pmShinati Mizarki
We succeeded.

Steven and I, we managed to do *exactly* what we set out to do. That was, defeat Falke and Maelstrom at Domination. We were the ones who walked away victorious - our hands high above our heads; the notion that Phantom Troupe had a 'stranglehold' over Shoot Nation proven to be nothing more than a fallacy. 

At least for now; cemented even further when Pendragon managed to end the reign of the succubus leader herself, Aria Jaxon; bring honour and prestige back to the title. Just as we devised for it to occur. Just as we claimed it would. For it is the honour; the traditions that shall always prevail, even when the shadows are cast. 

The 'light' shall *always* find a way to pierce through the veil of darkness, as the rising sun burns through. As we, show just why no matter how much they try to mould wrestling into being about their own personal agendas, the honour is what *always* comes to pass. It is the fabric, that holds the industry together.

But that also leads to a conundrum

You see, the "Best in the world" series is preparing to commence. A series, that I, along with Steven, Pendragon, Masowi Kawanda, Belle Kingsley & The Apparition shall all be competing in. Each of us, with the same motivation. The same end game that we wish to attain.

That is: The Shot at the world champion.

Or in Pendragon's case: The ability to dictate; choose just who it is that he defends the championship against next. 

To some, this might cause division. The egos, the desire to hold what Pendragon lofts high - the acclaim that comes with being world champion. I'd be foolish to say that *I* don't want that crown. That I wouldn't want to be the one to walk out of this series with the win. With the chance to put my name up in the lights. Even if that means beating my own friends. Beating those, who's ideals align with my own.

And that includes beating Pendragon

Just like it is for everyone else in this series. Just like it shall be for the other Shoot Nation representatives. We realise this; we *know* that ultimately, it is best for us to keep the belt within our corridors. To maintain the prestige that the belt holds; uphold the traditions that the belt claims. 

And as they always say: it's 'every person for themselves', which is the way I'm treating this. Which is how I know the others will be, too. And if that means we must go through each other in order to claim the crown, then that is what we shall do.

**We see your potential - but we feel you are allowing yourself to be misguided**

These words have stuck with me, ever since I heard them in a video recording I was sent just two days ago. The origin of it, being the same as the letter I was sent before Domination. And just like that letter, the video left me with questions about myself. About just *why* they have chosen *me* to progress their cause. 

To be under their wing - yet at the same time, I am still unsure what they offer *me*. All they said, was that they could help me 'reach the potential; attain what I *truly* desire'. Nor have I reached out to the address they said to mail a response to, yet that shall come. I just haven't figured out the best way to respond to them at this time.

But for now, the implications on Shoot Nation as a whole aren't the primary focus. That bridge shall be crossed when the time comes for it to. This week though, the main focus for me is Kikyo Himura. The same Kikyo who at Domination - fell short in her quest to defeat Belle Kingsley. 

To try and enforce her will upon her, yet at the same time: I realise that it would be foolish for me to assume that means that I will be able to walk away with the victory this week. For just like Kikyo, *I* have experienced failure; I still don't have that 'crowning moment' when it comes to a one on one victory. Something that if you have been hearing my musings over the past few weeks, or even months - you'll know I've been attempting to correct that. I still *am* attempting to correct that, via any means that I can. Even if that means locking myself away and simply looking deep into my own soul. 

I've been doing that again, this week when I spent some time alone in my garden. Trying to find my way; find out just what people meant when they constantly stated I need to 'find my potential'. To just go out there and *finally* block out all else but the opponent in front of me. The one, who stands between me and the victory I seek. Kikyo, I have nothing against you. I respect you; even though your motives may not always be for the greater good, they are something that define you. 

Something that you stand behind - which I will always respect. The problem is, this week - you stand between me and my statement. My opportunity, to show people that I'm not just 'standing in the shadows', but rather: I am willing to finally rise into the position I crave. To show Shoot Nation, just why they believe in me. Show the fans, just why I am everything they portray me to be.

Maybe I will figure it out soon enough. Maybe their intentions really *are* as good as they claim to be. But I'm not just gonna jump blindly into their arms. I've done that before - seen that all it does, is lead to more doubt. More 'treading water'; not comprehending just *why* I wandered this passage. I hope they understand that, and I can figure out their intent. Their rationale behind pursuing me, when I *finally* make the decision to answer their call. Because for me, that will be define my answer. That answer, will be what tells me whether or not this is the move that is best for me. Best for my career.

And above all else, if it is really about the greater cause.

Sighing, I make the note in my head about each of the words stated in the video. The passion, the energy with which they delivered it - showing that they hold experience in this field. That they understand the plight of 'not understanding their way'. Two things that I'll admit, draw me to say "yes" to them; to fly under their wings, yet it was the words 'The choice is yours, but we want you to seriously consider your habitual failures" that caused me to doubt their statements. 

It's true, I haven't had the best of careers in the ring, yet - I wouldn't consider it a habit of failing at this stage. Especially when we have never met; they haven't seen anything more than what I have shown on the surface. Just like it has been for SSW. Maybe it's time for me to expose the secrets that lie within.

This week, is the time for me to make my mark. To show you, just what you can expect when you step into the ring against me, Kikyo. Just as I wish for you to do the same for me. I want you to show me everything you provide - because you know I will be doing the same. So this week, let's make this a battle to make our statements. To show the rest, just *why* we are threats that they just cannot ignore.

And at the end, I will be the one walking away victorious.
on August 5th 2018, 5:46 pmSteven Cassidy
((After stringing together a few wins as of late, Steven is determined to extend his winning streak tomorrow night on The Best In The World Series Tour. Steven is studying film in the living room of his mentor, Koji Senju. A man we haven’t seen in months. Koji is sitting down in a wooden chair with a cane beside him. He frequently pauses the video to help Steven learn from his mistakes so he doesn’t commit them again. Steven is taking this very seriously as he jots down notes in his notebook.))

Koji: Ah Steven, look right here. Look at how unprepared you are for the beginning of this fight. Very sloppy! You gotta move your feet! You gotta be mentally sharp! Know your opponents! Maelstrom and Falke represent The Phantom Troupe. They are very aggressive! Very stubborn. They don’t think. They just attack. Knowing this, you counter their aggression with great defense. Duck, dive! Bob and weave! Let them tire themselves out and then you bring out your bag of tricks and hit them hard! Let them know that they are in for a long night! Let them know they crossed the wrong one. But you didn’t send that message. You were just letting them rag doll you. Especially when you were in the ring with Maelstrom. Why not cover up? Soften the damage. 

Steven: Point blank, they caught me off guard, Koji. The tape shows it, so I can’t say otherwise. I don’t know if it was nerves or what that led to my rusty start. Look, I made rookie mistakes, no doubt about it. But luckily a little later on, I cleaned it up. 

Koji: Yes, you were backed into a corner. And to your credit, you got out of it. You’re a glass half full kind of person, I respect that. But this match is far from unicorns and rainbows for you. You need to focus on how you got into that situation in the first place. The situation being you desperately needed to tag in Shinati to save the day so you could catch a breather to tend to your wounds. You put your partner in a bad situation. Asking him to carry the bulk of the load early on, when it should be split 50/50. Luckily for you, Shinati was ready to answer the call. He shifted momentum back to your side. 

Steven: Yes, I know. Shinati is a very talented individual when it comes to competing in between those ropes. I knew I could rely on him if the going got tough for me. He had my back and I had his. We were far too determined to lose that night. Not after what The Phantom Troupe did to us the week before. And in the end, we accomplished our goal. That’s all that matters. 

Koji: You lost me at the end there.  Victories are nice, sure, Steven. They often further your career and gets you more opportunities headed your way. But sometimes wins are handed to you. Sometimes you win due to luck or maybe from distraction. Those type of wins doesn’t help you improve. It just feeds your ego for a week. It gives you complacency. Don’t let your ego consume you, Steven. Not now, not ever. If you let it, then you are no different than The Phantom Troupe scum. Do you want to don the purple and black? I didn’t think so. The reason why we are studying this match is to help you become a better competitor. To help minimize your mistakes, especially with The Best In The World Series coming up. 

Koji: Okay, let’s pause right here. I know I’ve been hard on you. Acting as if you didn’t do a single thing right in this match. But you did. You had plenty of good moments. Moments you can keep with you and build off of. Like here, for instance, you hit Falke with the deadly maneuver, “Kiss The Ring.” What a thing of beauty!! A move that isn’t easy to pull off, for I would know. Especially when it comes to a man of your stature. You displayed your underrated strength. Even when you were at your most tired, you dug down deep, you put him on your shoulders and you planted his body into the canvas. And you weren’t done there, oh no. You weren’t satisfied. You were out for revenge. You wanted the big man Maelstrom to face a similar fate, and that he did, Steven, that he did. But be careful with that hate you have in your heart. You are an emotional fighter. You wear your heart on your sleeve. You feed off of the crowd’s energy. You mainly compete for your hatred for The Phantom Troupe. And that is understandable, Steven. They almost took your career from you. Your dream! But moving forward, I challenge you to dial it back a little. You have to keep your emotions in check so you have better composure out there. It’s a weakness that your opponents can capitalize on. Stop focusing on getting revenge. Stop being hellbent on taking out The Phantom Troupe. Focus on your career. Focus on your close friends of Shoot Nation, okay? Now, I think we can stop it here because we both know how this match ended. You came away with the win. You and Shinati worked well together. You have now proven you can get the job done as a singles competitor and as a tag team partner. But this week it’s about the former. This week you can’t rely on your partner to take over when you are feeling weak and vulnerable. It’s all on you. And the same goes for your opponent, Sakura Corleone. This is the start of The Best In The World Series. A rigorous tournament that will chew you up and spit you out if you don’t come prepared. What are you even looking to get out of it? Besides the obvious answer of winning the whole thing? 

Steven: I want to prove I belong. I want to prove that there’s a reason why Jacob Senn chose me to be a part of this tournament when he had plenty of other options to choose from. Because not everyone got an invite. Not everyone was given this grand opportunity that I was fortunate enough to receive. And for that, I am thankful to be put in this position. To be given a platform to showcase my skills and to further improve as an all-around competitor. But with that said, I know I have my work cut out for me. Especially when it comes to the A Block. I mean, we have a former Puroresu Heavyweight Champion, as well as a former Tag Team Champion, in this block. On top of that we have the most dominant champion in SSW’s young history, in Khmaoch Sangkat. We have a pack of hungry competitors, just foaming at the mouth at the thought of winning week after week until they are challenging for the SSW Puroresu Heavyweight Championship, come January. But that is a long ways away and a lot can happen before then. Therefore, I'm not getting ahead of myself. I’m not even thinking about Wrestle Spirit. Because I know if I look too far ahead of myself, I will make a costly mistake along the way. If not a flurry of mistakes. Besides, I can’t afford to overlook Sakura. She is far too talented for me of all people to undermine her as a wrestler and warrior. I know she will come out guns blazing. She will be fired up. Looking to take all of her pent-up frustration out on me for what happened to her and Cassius at Domination. I don't know what they are feeling at the moment or back on that night, because I don’t know what it’s like to be a champion. I’ve never won a title. I don’t know how it feels to hoist a championship in the air and have the crowd give you a thunderous reaction, whether it’s showering you with cheers and approval or giving you a chorus of boos. But I imagine you feel like you're on top of the world at that moment. And I’m sure it felt extra special/rewarding that you got to share that mountaintop with the love of your life, Cassius, instead of standing there all alone, having to fight the entire world on your own. 

But unfortunately for you and Cassius, your reign as the tag team champions came to a screeching halt when The Phantom Troupe pried them away from your tight grips. They just love to do that, don't they? Take from others, whether it be wins, titles, or careers. They revel in the fact that they can hit others where it hurts the most. Taking your titles is an example of that. Now, I have no doubts in my mind that you will win those tag titles back because I see how committed you two are to those very titles, while to Nas and Saul, they are just another accolade to them. Another feather to add to their cap. Those titles - that is where your focus lies. You can tell me that you are shifting your undivided attention to this tournament all you want, but I know, as well as you do, that those two men will be in the back of your mind as soon as that bell rings. And it can be argued that will help you. That your anger will help assist you to victory lane. But on the other side of the coin, that frustration, can easily cost you this match. It can very well be your downfall. And if you were to lose to this match, which I know you don't want to think about, but like I said, if you do lose, this isn't the end of Sakura. I am sure you will make up for it later in this tournament, just like I know you will always have the tag titles to "fall back on" if you will. While for me, this tournament could be it. If I have a bad showing after bad showing, then these opportunities will no longer come my way. My name will be nothing more than an afterthought moving forward, or best case scenario, an emergency backup plan that they can plug in, even if they don't want to. So I am putting all of my chips into this tournament. I am willing to give it my everything. My blood, sweat, tears, my career. You name it, I am willing to sacrifice it. You of all people should know about sacrifice, Sakura, because it goes hand in hand with love. And what I love is this business. I love going down that ramp and putting on a show. Just like I love my Shoot Nation brethren for having my back at all times, something you would know nothing about when it comes to your faction. Tres Comas Club - but most of all, I love these fans for their passion and undying support! And if you think for one second I am going to let them down this week, then think again.
on August 5th 2018, 5:07 pmAria Jaxon

Aria was livid, as one would expect. She understood that every title reign should be approached with a certain amount of realism and practicality -- nobody was champion forever, after all -- but when you’re mad, it can be pretty difficult to let rational thoughts like that take over. Hence why she was as angry as she was right now. Sure, she would always have the distinction of being the inaugural Puroresu Heavyweight Champion. People might not always be able to remember the second or the third or so on, but at the snap of a finger, they’d always be able to recall the first -- no matter how bad it stung for them who the first champion was. A woman. A black American woman. A black American woman who didn’t fucking play fair. Just her existence, merely the fact that she’d even gotten to this point meant that a lot of people were now sighing in relief, content in the fact that their nightmare was over. Her thoughts were already drifting to how she’d win the title back and when. She couldn’t help it.

“Who the fuck does Pendragon think he is?!” Aria seethed, pressing a cold compress from one of the trainers against the side of her head where that last kick from Jaydayne had connected. She was sitting at the foot of the exam table, a black Phantom Troupe logo hoodie draped over the gear she’d worn that night. Nas was pacing back and forth across the room -- now shouldering not one, but two title belts -- and donning a Phantom Troupe hoodie of his own. Aria wasn’t sure why he was subjecting himself to listening to her rant, but she was glad he was. “Watch,” she continued, a sarcastic laugh bubbling up, “he’s gonna fucking walk around here now like he always had shit figured out, like I wasn’t bodying him for months.”

It was silent for a few seconds after that, and she finally removed the ice pack from the side of her head. “It’s a whole body of work versus one night going his way, fuck him. His days with that belt are numbered…”

Her voice trailed off at the sound of a commotion just outside the door. Two male voices -- one was definitely Rick’s, the other was shouting in English with a heavy Japanese accent -- sounded like they were engaging in a heated back-and-forth.

Nas’ eyebrow was raised. “What the hell?” He opened the door, at which point Rick and the young man across from him -- probably a Young Lion or a production assistant or something -- both turned their attention to him. Before he or Aria could say anything, Rick spoke.

“I was trying to explain to this...this NO-NAME,” Walton spat, “that this isn’t a good time for him to relay his stupid little message.” He gestured to Aria. “I told him he’d have to wait until the lovely Miss Jaxon is in better spirits, but he wouldn’t listen!”

Aria hopped down off the table, walking over toward the doorway now. She shot an annoyed glance in the other man’s direction. “If Rick doesn’t want you here, I know he’s got a good reason,” she huffed. “The fuck do you want? Five words or less.”

The young man swallowed roughly, now feeling the heat of being caught beneath the less-than-pleased glances of the three of them. He took a moment to think about what he’d say next. Aria rolled her eyes. “The five words or less thing wasn’t literal, my God. Just say whatever you gotta say and go."

“R-Right!” he managed to stammer, a nervous laugh punctuating the words. “I didn’t mean to disturb you at this time, but I really had no choice. I had an important message to relay.” He glanced over to see Nas making the circular, “get on with it” hand motion. “Your first match in the Best in the World Series will come next week, Miss Jaxon--”

Aria cut him off. “I already know I’m in the fucking thing, I plan on winning, and I don’t really wanna talk about it with you right now, so…”

“But, you’re facing Masanori Kawada,” the young man said. “I imagine that would also be of interest to you.”

Maybe this wouldn’t be a total waste of her time, then. Aria tilted her head to the side in amusement. “You thought right.” She was very much interested in putting the Heart of Shoot Nation on his ass.

Nas chuckled and folded both of his arms across his chest. “You already beat his bum ass before. Now you got points as an incentive. It’s a dream.”

Rick smiled, laughing to himself before abruptly stopping and turning to the young man, who was still standing there. “Why are you still here?”

“I--” he wasn’t even able to choke out a full answer before he was cut off by Nas gesturing to the ice pack in Aria’s hand.

“You still using that?” Nas asked. Aria shook her head, prompting Nas to follow up with, “Lemme see it.”

The three looked on as the nervous wreck of a Young Lion turned on his heel and tried to get away from the three of them as soon as possible. As he did so, Nas pitched the cold compress in his direction as he started off down the hallway, pelting him in the back of the head and knocking him down.


There truly is no rest for the wicked, and if you ask some people walking this company’s halls, there’s nobody more wicked than me.

I highly doubt a person of weaker body or mind wouldn’t be able to even fathom walking into a tournament with this much at stake on the heels of just having lost the thing they’d worked hardest in the world for. I’m supposed to be a broken woman, right? A spoiled, petulant bitch more worried about throwing a temper tantrum about what already happened, rather than focusing on what could be? Before anyone says that I’m tryna save face by acting like my loss at Domination “doesn’t matter”, or whatever laissez-faire bullshit people have come to expect from the “bad guys”, I won’t pretend as if I wanted to lose the Puroresu Heavyweight Championship. Nobody fights that hard and just managed to be okay with losing. It gets under my skin to think that an altruistic piece of shit with no backbone like Jaydayne Pendragon is walking around with the championship whose legacy I defined. It grates on my last nerve. For those who’ve prematurely celebrated the funeral of Aria Jaxon, my inclusion in The Best in the World Series is the reality check they so desperately need. I don’t wanna hear any of that “It’s anyone’s game!" shit. And oh, the “One of the young guns could rise up and take the whole thing!” argument is pretty rich. This tournament is representative of me taking the roundabout way back to my championship. Anybody who thinks I’ve not already resigned myself to bulldozing my way through the entire field just isn’t being honest with themselves. All of this is a test -- one I intend to pass with flying colors, no less. Optimism isn’t something I think anyone expects me to spew, but I guess I’m full of surprises. The way I’ve chosen to look at it now isn’t just knowing that I’ll eventually get to shoulder my title again, it’s thinking about the things that will lead up to that. Before any of that, I’ll win this tournament -- earning the distinction of being the first-ever winner of The Best in the World Series -- having defeated this company’s so-called best and brightest in the process. As much as I’d love for Pendragon to still be the champion by the time I use that title shot, I don’t anticipate he’ll make it that far. For whoever has the misfortune of being Puroresu Heavyweight Champion by that time, know this -- you’ll have already realized your dreams of being champion in the first place, but I’ll be the one who brings it all crashing down. I don’t care who it is. What I want and what I plan to do outweighs anything that anybody else in this tournament could possibly imagine doing. I’m getting back to the apex no matter what it costs these other scrubs.

Ohhhhh, Kawada, back so soon? I’m wondering who among the higher-ups you pissed off to have the bad luck of tangling with me one-on-one again. It wasn’t all that long ago that we faced off in a match a lot like this one. When we faced weeks ago, there was really nothing on the line but bragging rights. We both just wanted to say we’d beaten the other. For me, it was a matter of doing what I’d always done. For you, I’m sure it would’ve done wonders for your confidence to defeat the then-champion. But of course, as any sane person expected, when people put their faith in you to humble the evil Aria Jaxon, you failed, and your stutter step was illuminated underneath those bright main event lights. Now that you’re back in the fold, I can tell you’re feeling rejuvenated. That disgusting brand of Shoot Nation is pumping through your veins like never before. I wouldn’t be surprised if this sudden proximity to championship gold has you and all your faction buddies thinking you can do anything now.

“Our fearless leader managed to get the thing he wanted after falling flat on his face over and over, so anything is possible!”

Don’t get shit twisted. That’s still not true, and if anyone should know that, it’s you. Again, you know what it’s like to face me. You know what it’s like to throw everything at me, to dig down deep -- and still lose. I know what your best is. I’ve braced myself for an onslaught that never came, and that was back when nothing was at stake but my pride. The stakes are so much higher now. Every match is integral and every point counts. One misstep could put me far enough back on the leaderboard that someone else leaves this block and gets to try their hand at winning my tournament, and ultimately, my title. I can’t let that happen. If there’s anything you can take solace in, it’s knowing that at the end of all this, you won’t be alone. You won’t be the only person who had their hopes of being able to call themselves The Best in the World dashed by me. Every person I beat will be an unwilling -- albeit worthy -- sacrifice. You may not be first in the hearts and minds of Shoot Nation or the fans, but hey, at least you’re lucky enough to lead the charge of people who will be unsuccessful in stopping me from winning this tournament!

Remember, Kawada -- you never really had any possible claim to being The Best in the World. Not a chance in hell. All I’m doing is reminding you of that. 
on August 5th 2018, 3:09 pmKai Stevens


a cut above

----On one of the many streets lining the flesh that is one of the homely Ports of Long Island in New York, there resides a strip of storefronts that dot the horizon.  The faces of these stores and restaurants supply an oasis from the blistering heat of Long Island in August, with every parking space in sight in use.  While alternative parking exists with enough maneuvering and spacial awareness, this busy street seldom offers an easy parking opportunity, and those who dare effort to parallel park are often vilified and often have obscenities slung at them from cars aggressively swerving around to pass them.  A true reflection of the stereotypical New York driving microcosm on a small-town scale.
----Near the train station that serves as the tail end of a track for the L.I.R.R., or Long Island Railroad, there exists one such strip.  The corner nearest to the station is occupied by a large Italian restaurant and pizzeria, one of fourteen (no exaggeration) within the confines of this hamlet.  That’s just under one pizzeria per thousand on the census.  
----Beside this large and popular Italian restaurant exists a smaller restaurant with little to no outward marketing, save for the restaurant’s name printed across a small black awning -- Aki -- Japanese.  The majority of the front of the restaurant is characterized by a massive window tinted a shade of obsidian so as to allow those who are dining within to peer out upon the bustling of Main Street, while those who are outside may not gaze upon these consumers with as much ease.
----Within Aki, the din of a mid-afternoon lunch rush drones in ears like a swarm of bees stinging Dustin Kensrue, the lead singer of Thrice.  Upon entering, the first sight provided unto you aside from the black three-quarter booths surrounding large glass tables is the back wall.  Adorning said wall behind a small sushi bar is a large glass bubble wall divided into four panes, changing color slowly but surely.
----This affords to patrons of the restaurant an aesthetically pleasing and relaxing backdrop for dining.  For the three men seated around the sides of one of the aforementioned glass tables, it is nothing more than an expense by the restaurant in the background.
----On one side of this table, William Wilson sits slightly hunched over, his right hand scribbling onto a pad of paper to the right of his place-setting despite the rather lacking lighting.  He’s slightly overweight, a bit of his belly folding over his belt, though that may just be resultant of his slouching posture.  His youthful face appears exhausted, as if drained to the degree of bone-tired, though his attempt at a Van Dyke goatee suggest he still possess the exuberance associated with youth.  As well as the naïvety.  Nodding his head, Wilson dons a pair of gray slacks to match his blazer, which is folded neatly and rested upon the booth between he and the next man at the table, Brian Church.
----Church sports what he typically appears on television in, a fully black suit.  However, this time his shirt is the dark red, while his tie is an obsidian matched only by the tinting of the storefront window.  The tie-clip is still a gunmetal gray, however, and his smirk is still arrogant.  He lifts a glass of Sake to his lips and tilts his head back to take a swig as Wilson scribbles on his pad.
----The third man is unsurprisingly Kai Stevens, who sports a pair of black Chinos to accent his white shirt and steel blue tie, which is adorned by a tie-clip in the same shade as Church’s.  Stevens, too, pulls an alcoholic beverage to his lips, though it is a Vodka Sour with two wedges of lemon and one wedge of lime in it.  It should come as no surprise that Stevens’s water, too, holds a wedge or two of lemon in it.  Perhaps this is why the Cowboy Killer always seems so sour.
----Wilson lifts his head and smiles at the two, no food having been delivered yet.  He takes a quick sip of his water before dabbing his lips with a large, white cloth napkin and clearing his throat.  It is from here that Wilson lofts the first bit of speech in our scene.
----I know I’m here to talk to you guys about the Best in the World Series, he begins lightly.  But I can’t say I’m not excited for the food.
----All three menus rest stacked upon one another, extending over the edge of the table in the traditional sign for being ready to order.
----You’ll enjoy it, replies Stevens.  But you better make sure not to let it distract you from quoting me accurately.  I have no patience for people like you misquoting people like me for clickbait headlines and potent quotables.  Your hot takes and viewership don’t matter to me.  Accurate reporting does.
----Wilson’s smile fades here, though he nods and drops his eyes from the glare of Stevens to his notepad.  He swallows and lifts his head to continue, but a waitress arrives.  Her accent is thick, and Stevens struggles to understand her, though Church and Wilson seem to have no trouble.  Respectively, Stevens, Church, and Wilson order their food: Stevens an order of Japanese Clear Soup, Spicy Rock Shrimp Tempura, and General Tsao’s Chicken; Church a few Unagi Rolls and a Chicken and Steak Teriyaki dish; Wilson a Vegetable Lo Mein with a side of Miso Soup.
----As the waitress disappears with the menus, Wilson turns his focus back to Stevens and Church with an excited smile on his face.  His line of inquiry starts rather directly.
----Well, Mr. Stevens, he starts.  I thought we’d start off here by talking about your hot start in Strong Style Wrestling.  At four wins and zero losses, you’ve turned more than a few heads in Japan and have made your presence felt while representing the Ronin, and I--
----While he might technically represent the Ronin, interjects the Dismembered Soul.  Our interests will always take priority over the interests of the Ronin.
----Right, uh, he responds almost uneasily before continuing with his question.  Your opponent to open the Best in the World Series is none other than Khmaoch Sângkât, a veteran of this industry who currently represents all of Strong Style Wrestling as the Heritage Champion.  At thirty-one years your senior, do you think Sângkât’s veteran savvy matches up well against your momentum?  Or do you think that your meteoric ascension through the ranks of Strong Style is too much for the champ to handle?
----Stevens smirks arrogantly as Church takes an amused swig of his Sake.  Scratching at his beard, the Envoy of the End nods his head and ponders the question for a mere moment before snickering cockily and responding with confidence.
----First, let’s set something straight right here and right now, he asserts.  I don’t give a shit whether or not someone matches up well with me, because when it comes right down to it?  The fact of the matter is that it doesn’t matter who stands across from me in that ring, because by the end of the night they won’t be able to stand anymore and, like everybody who has ever stepped in the ring with Kai Stevens?  They’re overmatched.
----So no, I don’t think Sângkât matches up well with me.  I think his face matches up mighty well with my fists, sure.  But there’s a really good reason that idioms like ya’ can’t teach an old dog new tricks exist in the first place.  And on top of that?  This tournament, it’s…  It’s supposed to be about who’s the Best in the World, isn’t it?
----Wilson nods in response without offering anything verbally.
----Then it doesn’t matter whether or not someone matches up well with Kai Stevens, states Church.  Because if you’re looking for the Best in the World, then you need not look any further.  Whether it’s Aria Jaxon, Masanori Kawada, or this week’s geriatric fuck, matching up well with the Best in the World doesn’t mean a damn thing when it comes time for Clash of Dragons, does it?
----If you don’t believe us, adds the Inevitable.  Then why don’t we let the numbers speak for themselves?  I’m half this guy’s age with more than double his wins.  And week in and week out, whether it’s Japan or Philly or Miami or anywhere else in the world?  I prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that I’m better than my so-called peers.  I’m a whole ‘nother animal and a cut above overrated, overhyped idiots like Sângkât.
----A representative of the restaurant’s wait staff steps over to the table, placing down a woven basket with hot towels rolled up inside in the middle of the table, nodding with a smile and disappearing off into the rest of the restaurant.  All three take a towel in anticipation of food arriving soon and wipe down their hands.
----With convincing wins over two of the other three factions, begins Wilson carefully.  Including over names like Jack Ryland, Jun Nobunaga, and Racer Smiles of the Tres Comas Club and Shinati Mizarki, Belle Kingsley, and the Apparition of Shoot Nation, who do you think prepared you the best for the kind of offense you might see from Khmaoch Sângkât, as well as in the rest of your Block for the remainder of the Series?  Why?  And--  How is it you’ve prepared yourself for Sângkât’s style considering how significantly it contrasts from the majority of the opponents you’ve had throughout your career?
----Stevens and Church’s eyes all flick up to Wilson as if he’d just taken a piece of food off of both of their plates without invitation.  Wilson uneasily flicks his eyes back and forth between the two for a moment before gulping almost audibly.
----Appetizers soon, says a waitress as she appears beside the table and places down a round of soups and salads.  She disappears off into the restaurant and the three men begin eating, speaking in between pieces and streaks of consumption.
----Who do I-- Man, begins Stevens with a flashing of the furrowing of his brow and the narrowing of his eyes.  Honestly, all of them prepared me in different ways.  Mostly, though, they prepared me in that it kept me warm.
----You called it a hot start, supplies the UWA Hall of Famer with malice.  But you haven’t seen shit yet.
----Church stifles a small snicker as a waitress approaches with a tray that she places down on a small folding stand.  From there, she hands out the appetizers and nods before rather hastily disappearing off into the background.
----As for the most similar offense that I, begins Stevens.  Y’know, shut the fuck down?  I’d have to say that the Apparition -- who was no sweat off my back -- probably is where I based my preparation in terms of film study.  But if I’m being honest with ya’, Will?
----It’s far more conducive to just watch Sângkât’s garbage film.  Have you seen that shit?  It’s boring.  So you wanna’ know how I prepare for his Style?  The same way I prepare for everyone else’s.  I give their film a look and then I go out there and I shut it the fuck down.  You think that would change for a guy who’s old enough to be my father?  What, because he parades around like this pillar of the industry and wears that Heritage strap?
----I wouldn’t give a shit even if he were a pillar of the industry, he continues.  I’ve taken down more than a few pillars in my day-- as brief as my day’s been.  You think Sângkât can do what everybody else in this company has failed to?  I massacred the Apparition, and the Apparition has put Sângkât away with ease in the past-- what does that tell you?
----Wilson’s eyes shoot back and forth between Church and Stevens’s, as if assessing whether or not this is a rhetorical question.  However, Church speaks up to answer the question for everyone’s edification.
----The law of syllogism might tell you it’s evidence of superiority, he says.  But when it comes right down to it?  It tells you that we’re more than prepared for this guy.  He can bring thirty-two years of experience in this game and it won’t matter, because he’s never faced the kind of butcher Kai Stevens is in his entire life.  He doesn’t even know half the tricks we’ve got up our sleeve and what’s better?  Is that he wouldn’t be able to stop ‘em even if he did.
----Thirty-two years, adds the Envoy of the End.  Thirt-- Shit, man, he’s been doing this for longer than I’ve been alive and he STILL isn’t on my level?  That’s embarrassing, don’t ya’ think, Will?
----Don’t you think that-- that that’s sad?  Don’t you think that…  That I deserve better from the Best in the World Series?  If I’m supposed to sit here and accept that someone out there…  Someone out there can say they think Khmaoch Sângkât is deserving of being included in THAT CONVERSATION WITH A STRAIGHT FACE?!
----Stevens coughs and holds back laughter by pumping his fist into his chest and coughing again as a waitress seems to materialize beside the table as his demeanor grew more volcanic, like A Man Possessed.  She places their main courses on the table and disappears as quickly as she had appeared in the first place, allowing them to continue.
----As far as reality is concerned, adds the XXXacutioner.  Khmaoch Sângkât is nothing more than a speed bump on the road to being officially recognized as what Kai Stevens has been since the day he stepped foot in the ring…  The Best in the World.
----You can ask any of the six names you just listed of people he’s already humiliated in the ring, or any of the dozens of other shitstains who tried to square up to my protégé here…  There’s no question in any of their minds as to whether or not Kai Stevens is the best.
----And sooner than later, Will?  There won’t be a question in anybody’s mind.  You should count your blessings that you have the opportunity to have accurately predicted what we’re about to do in this tournament, in this industry.
----And what exactly are you about to do in this tournament and in this industry? Wilson asks.
----The Aerial Arsonist finishes chewing a piece of his General Tsao’s Chicken that he’d recently placed in his mouth with his chopsticks and leans forward, resting his forearms on the edge of the glass table and interlocking his fingers.  His nostrils flare as his eyes narrow and the malice bubbles up beneath the surface.
----He understands that he is in a public place, a restaurant no less, which means that he knows he must keep a vice-like grip on his Dark Passenger, as Dexter Morgan might call it.  As such, he takes a deep breath in through his nose and ominously calmly answers Wilson’s question.
----Well, he begins.  It starts with Khmaoch Sângkât.  It starts with brutalizing him in front of all of Strong Style to the point that-- that the mere prospect of having to come to look the End in the eye strikes fear into the hearts of each and every person in this tournament…  In this company...  In this business.
----It starts with freeing myself from the pressure that’s mounting up within my brain, he explains, pushing the pads of his right index and middle fingers into his temple in a twisting motion.  With alleviating this pressure that pushes me to maim...  Pushes me to end careers...  Pushes me to snap.  It’s like there’s a void in here, Will.  A void that I can only ever fill by drawing blood.
----Y’see, Will, when I’m standing tall over Khmaoch Sângkât’s broken and beaten carcass at the end of the night with my head high and my middle finger held higher?  That void will flush with catharsis.  The pressure will dissipate.  I will feel…  Feel whole.
----Not until I have his head on a pike will I feel release.  Not until I have broken his spine across my knee and his spirit across my back…  Not until I have shown the so called Phantom Menace what a night terror...  Really is.  And sure as damn Hell not until I have taken every last word that geriatric fuck has EVER said and shoved it back down his throat so I can put them all back where they came from and make sure I don’t ever have to hear another syllable out of his ugly mug.  Not until I show Sângkât what a living Hell really is.
----Stevens shakes his head contemptuously before pulling his beverage up to his lips with disdain, refusing to relent on his ominous staring at William Wilson.  After taking a sip of his Vodka Sour, he places it down on the glass and pops a piece of his Spicy Rock Shrimp Tempura into his mouth and chews, allowing his eyes to relinquish their submission hold on Wilson.
----Church leans slightly forward and smirks confidently, as if this were a game of chess and he were six moves ahead of his opponent.  A small snicker accompanies his facial expression as he swirls his the Sake in his glass around.
----It starts with making a statement, he says arrogantly.  With making an example out of Khmaoch Sângkât.  Do you know what that statement is, Will?  To what effect we offer Sângkât as an example?
----No, responds Wilson almost sheepishly.
----The statement of strength.  The statement of we don’t give a fuck about your Champions.  The statement of we are the Best in the World, while Khmaoch Sângkât?  He’s just an old dog way past his prime -- if he even had one -- biding his time until euthanasia.
----Khmaoch Sângkât is nothing more than what we allow him to be.  And by the time we’re through with him at the end of our match?  We won’t allow him to be anything other than pieces in bodybags.
----And we will make him an example, he continues.  Of who we are.  Not because he beat our so-called fearless leader at Domination, but because we are our own leaders.  We’re making him an example of the only faction that matters in Strong Style Wrestling…  Brian Church and Kai Stevens.
----Wilson nods as he scribbles away on his notepad.  When he finishes writing, he peers up over horn-rimmed glasses and smiles.  He flicks his eyes down to his watch before lifting them back to the two men he’s interviewing for his article on the Best In The World Series.
----Well, guys, he starts.  I only have one more question.  Before that, I want to thank you for your time today, and share that I’m looking forward to your match with Sângkât, as well as to the remainder of the tournament.  Now, shifting gears a little bit, I’m curious-- Why are you so positive you’re going to win?  Sângkât is no easy task, as many can attest to in Strong Style Wrestling.  He is SSW Heritage Champion for a reason, don’t you think?
----Deafening silence.
----Both Stevens and Church lean forward and take almost fully simultaneous swigs of their alcoholic beverages before placing them back down on the table.  After clearing his throat and scratching at his beard, the Envoy of the End responds to Wilson’s question with vitriol.
----Let me make something abundantly clear to you, he stabs.  I don’t care who he is, what he’s accomplished, or what you or anybody else thinks of him.  I really don’t.  Who you are before you step into the ring with me doesn’t matter, and y’wanna’ know why?  Because between the ringing of the bell to start our match until I’m done with you?  All I am is predator and all you are is prey.
----We said it starts with Sângkât, but the fact of the matter is that what is a hot start in your opinion and a slight warm up in mine means that the End of Sângkât is truly the beginning of the End for everybody else.
----Sooner than later, he continues.  Sooner than later I will taste in his torment, Will.  I will bathe in his blood and y’know what?  I will prove that he isn’t better than the Best in the World.  So for his aspirations in this tournament?  For his hopes of continuing to defend his strap and continue his career?  And for my time being overlooked in this industry?  The end is nigh.
----Stevens smirks confidently, lifts his glass in the air, and cocks an eyebrow skyward with arrogance.  He then polishes off the rest of his drink and gestures for another round.
----Our scene comes to a close with one glaring question remaining following all of the bold claims and macabre threats lobbied by the Envoy of the End.  In the days leading into the first week of the Best In The World Series we must wonder--
----In a matter of life and death, can an old dog learn new tricks?

on August 4th 2018, 11:54 pmThe One True Pairing

Sakura Corleone… The Beautiful Cherry Blossom that blooms among the dirt and filth in Strong Style Wrestling. When the world sees her walk to meet the faces of the audience as her music plays around the arena and she stands side by side her beloved Cassius, it’s like there’s hope and happiness waiting at the end of the ramp. When she wins her matches, she feels as if she has done everything right and her purpose as the belle of One True Pairing continues to be fulfilled. She loves the competition… she loves getting hurt… she loves hurting in return. And she loves when Cassius watches. To her, the feeling of winning with her Cassius by her side is like cherry blossoms blooming in the air as they touch her soft skin with every movement she makes.

But the Cherry Blossoms turn into Rose Stems that prick her skin and tears her flesh when she feels like someone has gotten the best of her. The sharp thorn pokes her skin and she could do nothing to stop it, like a million needles digging deep through her flesh. Losing a match is one thing, but losing it to two incompetent waste of space, two forgettable, disposable, talentless, incoherent scumbags that have no interesting trait like Saul Omen and CM Nas really put a bad taste in her mouth. The wonderful field of flowers in her head slowly dies as the toxic air spreads killing all of the hope and happiness that she had gathered up… one… by one… by one.

An innocent mind tarnished. A pure heart tainted. Her beautiful ending that she worked hard for, gone all of a sudden. Now she finds herself in bed… one moment tightening her fist in anger… another moment feeling the need to punch a wall. All she could do was comfort herself, embracing a big brown teddy bear she named “Hau-Hau” that Cassius won for her once upon a time in an Amusement Park. She then sets the stuffed animal aside… and starts to speak.

Sakura Corleone: This is madness. I’ve never felt so humiliated in front of my Cassius.

Hau-Hau (Sakura’s Silly Voice): Daijobu, Sakura-chan! You’ll get the titles back! All you have to do is believe in your love for Cassius, that will get you through any test! You can’t let this bring you down! The Phantom Troupe will get what’s coming to them!

Sakura thought again of The Phantom Troupe and she tightens her grip on the back of Hau-hau as she controls it. The whole situation felt so fresh, and she could not contain her anger.

Sakura Corleone: I am so sick of all of them swarming us like flies. Ever since the One True Pairing have made their presence known in SSW, there have been shadows of jealousy following us left and right, people who wish they were us and believe themselves to be better and so they try to look for anyone available to serve as a partner hoping they could separate me and my Cassius. At first, it was fun, the way we made fun of the careers that they value so much even when it’s spiraling down, but later on the same tricks had become unbearable to deal with when you see the same faces utter the same words. They keep trying to take our titles while discrediting us and everything we have done, because they can’t stand the fact that not even on their best day can they outdo and outperform us, they can’t stand that their weak faction consisting of a mountain of losers cannot withstand the power of two in the One True Pairing. Over and over again they have tried to damage us with no success until they have finally wounded us when we didn’t expect… I am very patient and gentle… but I can only take so much until I finally snap. They can’t do that… they can’t take our titles from us. I am not letting this slide.

Hau-Hau (Sakura’s Silly Voice): But what will you do, Sakura-chan?

Sakura Corleone: I am going to demand a rematch… I am going to tear their faces off and let the world see that they are nothing but weak scum of the earth…  

Hau-Hau (Sakura’s Silly Voice): Oh, Sakura-chan! That is very brave of you!  But what about the Best in the World Series?

Sakura Corleone: Hau-hau! I have no time for things like that! I am aching to get back what was taken from me! What was taken from Cassius! Don’t you care about Cassius?

Sakura looks at Hau-hau, unsure of what she will make it say next. She is angry and she wants nothing more than revenge… but realizing that she has another road to travel, she feels this urge, this need of taking more.

Sakura Corleone: On second thought, you are right Hau-hau. If I’m going forth to compete, I better exercise my strength. Who am I facing first again? Steven Cassidy? In all honesty, anyone who isn’t the One True Pairing looks the same to me. They all roll over the same dirt. They all have the same battlecry. They all appear to me as the same punching bag that I have to hit and kick with all of me. I get that they have gone through different trials and they come from different places, but you’re not going to bring your life experiences with you in the ring especially when you come face to face with the Yandere Goddess. She doesn’t care what you are, she cares only about the fact that you have to be beaten. Oh, Hau-hau… this is the perfect time, and the man has found himself in the worst situation imaginable… it’s inescapable… it’s inevitable. In just a simple week where he believes he will survive, he doesn’t even realize that he will be signing a death sentence and digging the hole of his own grave.

Sakura feels renewed... like there is a new purpose.

Sakura Corleone: I have not been afraid of anything, nor will I ever be. A little hurt in my pride is not the same as being physically injured, so there is no reason for me to lose in this match. I was born strong, and because of my Cassius, I stay strong. Advancing this tournament will not only serve as a display of my power and capabilities, but proof that I stand tall in a world that wants nothing but to kick me down for who I am, proof that I am indeed the best in this company, and that I should never have lost what was mine, to begin with… Losing a match for the first time makes my stomach turn, it blinds me to the point where I just want to destroy everything in my path, and so I decide to not lose again. Thanks to the fluke win of those idiots, the competitors in this tournament will suffer, the entire company will suffer as I take every gold and glory that they have reserved for those who “worked hard”, hoping that this is their opportunity to achieve something, and take it to my possession. I refuse to let anyone else have the upper hand this time… I am aiming for the stars... and beyond.

Sakura finally sets down Hau-hau, indicating that she is done with their “conversation”. Sakura then lays on her back with a smile on her face.

Sakura Corleone: The Lovebird Tag Team Championships… you will soon be mine again. Along with everything else I fight to win. The Best in the World Series… The Crowns on the head of those who claim to be Kings… the World Title… All of it. Until I am finally satisfied with what I have taken for the sake of the One True Pairing. For my Cassius. Only for my Cassius.

You shouldn't have upset her. You shouldn’t have made her snap.

There is no stopping Sakura now.

on August 4th 2018, 7:22 pmJaydayne Pendragon
OOC: Just a development promo for stuff about his life after becoming champion and all that jazz.


Saturday night: Heading from the ring to the backstage area, Pendragon celebrates with his Shoot Nation  brethren Kawada, Belle, Steven Cassidy, Vanessa Santiago, Shinati, and the Apparition. They are met with Renee who claps and hurriedly gives Pendragon an embrace. Pendragon afterwards speaks to the cameras.

Pendragon: It has been a long journey, but tonight after all the ridicule, the doubt, and adversity, I stand with my family on top of the summit of Strong Style Wrestling! This is only the beginning, these men and women who walk with me will continue the slaying of the entire Phantom Troupe and taking claim to the championships that represent this company, wherever we must fight the scum who take hold of glory above their rightful purview. I know, in the future even my championship will one day exchange hands with many of these individuals who stand with me…….but for tonight, we rejoice!
️ Pendragon gives his fellow Shoot Nation members a polite bow and clenches his fist in the air as they do the same as a sign of unity, before leaving with Renee.

Sunday: Pendragon and Renee are seen at Pendragon’s residence in Japan, communicating through video teleconference with family abroad. The video show Pendragon’s parents giving a traditional stern congratulations. The video with Renee’s brother in the hospital show the young man with a replica of the Puroresu Heavyweight Championship, he mimics some of Pendragon’s mannerisms in the ring as they laugh, and then the nurses put him back to bed.
Monday: Due to an alumnus of the Wrestling Grotto obtaining world gold in Japan, representatives have chosen to make their way for press conferences and to create a commercial. The commercial features Pendragon, the founder and teacher Jack Miles, and using Renee as a poster girl/mascot in her role as a current full time student.  After the couple step of the set, they are meant with more of the old J-Dynasty guard, Jaywalker, Jaspora & and her monster the Moving Mountain Gunkai Riggs.

Jaspora: Now boys, I want this to go down professionally.
Jaywalker: I see no reason why it wouldn’t, your presence is unnecessary. I’m always about business.
Pendragon: Have you nothing to say about exposing your identity as a TCC investor, and how far you went with the GREED affair?
Jaywalker: What? Are you expecting an apology? I don’t do those. Since the beginning, the members of the J-Dynasty have always had their independence, I neither tell them what to do nor how to represent themselves, only that they operate under our brand. If you are all free to do as you please, why would it be any different for me? Besides, don’t forget, I found you when you were wrestling under EAW’s pathetic War Made Wrestling side project, you didn’t even have a right to use your name under a criminal organization, and look at you now. Gone to an actual wrestling school, money for your bills with an honest day’s work, and a champion. You should thank me, not question me.
Pendragon: I appreciate all you’ve done. But if you ever get in my way or for what’s right for this company, you’ll be put down just like anyone else.
Gunkai(Leaning in to put his arms around both Pendragon and Jaywalker): Hahahaha, you pipsqueaks sure do a lot of talking. I say trading fists usually settle things better than words. (Looking at Pendragon) You know, I heard you’ve been quite the titan killer over there, I’d be interested in see-
Jaspora: That’s enough! You don’t need to worry about Jaywalker. (Her lips form a dark sly smile looking at Jaywalker’s direction) I heard the GREED experiment has hit quite the snag, and our oh so wise visionary here is about to return to being a silent figure, lining his pocket’s in the shadows like a good boy.(Jaywalker closes his eyes and says nothing.) I believe you have something for these two, Jaywalker? He won the title, our brand has once again been elevated.
Jaywalker: Yes. As promised, here’s your big bonus cheque champ. You could have been making this kind of money if you put prudence over honour in these factions, but again we are allowed to live our lives as we please. Alloy would have liked you, kid.
(Jaywalker claps his hands and Jaywalkerinc employees walk in with a large gift wrapped cheque, handing it over to Pendragon and Renee.)
️The old J-Dynasty members make their leave, and Renee opens the wrapping, bursting into tears when she see’s the amount they’ve been given. She falls to her knees over it and Pendragon goes down to support her in this touching moment, suffice to say Renee’s little brother’s medical bills will be paid off for a very long time.
Tuesday: Pendragon at a press conference for SSW after the announcement the Best of the World Series’ explanation that if the world champion wins they’d pick who their opponent is at Wrestle Spirit. He answers various questions about being champion and his last few days as expected until they get to the juicy stuff.

Press man: Pendragon, with the announcement that if you’re the winner of the Best of the World Series, as long as you remain champion, you’d be able to pick your opponent at Wrestle Spirit…..the world has to know, WHO WILL IT BE!
Other press man: Will it be a member of Shoot Nation?!!
Press woman: Have you heard anything about the intentions of Aria Jaxon?
Pendragon: People, people! These are all great questions, but honestly I haven’t had the tournament and such details at the forefront of my mind just yet. Right now I’m focused on being the greatest champion possible, and I’ll take on all comers as they pop up in front of me. Thank you.

For the next few days after that, Pendragon had spent the days sit seeing with Renee before her departure. Starting with the Shinto shrine, Fushimi Inari-taisha.

Saturday morning at an airport, Pendragon is with Renee before she has to go back to her training and taking care of the family abroad. ⚔
Pendragon: The good days always pass the fastest. I’m really glad you were here for me, I think it was the extra push I needed to seal the deal and win the big one.
Renee: Don’t be silly, I know my man. You just needed a little reminder in person is all, I’m always here with you, always watching and supporting you. Just don’t get carried away, never forget who you are and where you come from, just because you’ve achieved your dream. Especially, don’t forget what kind of man is mine, or I’ll have to fly right back and deliver the greatest beat down Japan has ever seen! A la prochaine, mon chéri.
️Renee kisses Pendragon and gets on her flight, both waving goodbye as the plane goes off. Pendragon clinches his right hand with conviction.
Pendragon: Just as I once promised, I’d return to you a proven warrior; I promise I shall return to you a proven champion!
on July 28th 2018, 7:59 amBANG

BANG sits in a dark room - dressed in his wrestling attire and a torn Tres Comas Club t-shirt - clutching Minerva in his hands and pressing her to his chest as he faintly whispers to it with a smirk on his face.

BANG: Mark Montana….

BANG leans in to Minerva again.

BANG: Gone.

The smirk on BANG’s face fades away, replaced with a look of distress before it shifts to a look of rage.

BANG (whispering): Andre… Vir…. Go.

BANG slowly shakes his head, almost protesting having to speak.

BANG: You took… Everything. You took Mark Montana. You took Junior Heavyweight Championship. You took Tres Comas Club… You took… You take from me… I sit at home, watching you. Always watching. Always waiting until I come back, because Mark Montana taught me. Mark said it’s best to take when they need it most. You need it most, Andre… Vir… Go. I watch and see everything you do. You carry Junior Heavyweight Championship. You defend it. You keep it around your waist. You keep it with you, but the rest - it falls apart. Tres Comas Club starts crumbling… Because of you. Everything Mark Montana built. Because of you, it is stained. Forever. You were no true member. You were hungry. You did not want power with Tres Comas. You wanted power of Tres Comas. You wanted to take it for yourself. Selfish. Gluttony, Andre… Vir… Go. Power… Money… Fame… You bit the hand that feeds. You took it all for you. You make this your own, and like an organ that does not work with a body, it rejects you. It does not want you. We do not want you. They do not want you. NO ONE WANTS YOU!

BANG buries his face in the head of Minerva as he continues to speak.

BANG: So I come back. And I take. Everything. It is the right time. You have everything, and now I take it all. You took from me, and I take from you. You will spit up everything that you devoured, Andre… Vir… Go. BANG will expose who you are. He will take away fancy clothes. He will rip away your delusion. I will leave you naked before Tres Comas Club, and you will be removed forever. Not because you deserve it. Because you belong here. I was chosen. Picked by the man who built the ground you conquer. It does not belong to you. It is mine, and I will rip it from your hands. You dream too much, Andre… Vir… Go. You dream of being leader. You dream of being Champion. You dream of being center of attention. Dreams end when dreamer wakes up. Do not worry. I do not want to wake you from your dream. That is too… Merciful. That would do you favor. Instead, you will not escape dream. You will not be thrown into reality. Not yet. You can face the truth later. Not yet. Instead…

BANG raises his head, showing a slight sadistic smile as his long hair covers his eyes.

BANG: I drag you down from dream. Kicking and screaming. Kick all you want. Scream all you can. I will not stop, Andre… Vir… GO. I take you with me where you belong. Not on top. You belong below. The bottom. I drag you from your dream, and to your nightmare. Nightmare where you watch BANG take back rightful place as leader of Tres Comas Club. Nightmare where you look for Junior Heavyweight Championship around your waist, and find nothing there. Nightmare that you will never wake up.

BANG struggles to keep himself from laughing.

BANG: Never, ever, ever…. You carry gold, but fools gold. You did many things. Beating me is not one. You did not earn gold. I know it bothers you. I know you wanted this as much as I did, Andre… Vir… Go. Because you want dream to continue. You want to prove you are better than BANG. You disrespect me. Disrespected Mark Montana. You should thank us. If I did not disappear, you would not be here. You would be the one on the sidelines, watching. Waiting. You. Not me. That is why your nightmare comes true at Domination. Because without me, you are the best. You are the Champion. With BANG, you… Are just an underling. That is what drives you. It digs under your skin. You know what place you were made to belong not long ago. You know I am back to put you where you belong. You are desperate. I know it. I can smell it. It smells good. Your fear smells better. I like it. A man with fear of walls closing in on him. You had time to soak up your spotlight. You had time because of me. You basked in your dream, and now you have to get through this nightmare. You will come out a better man than you were before. But you will come out without your gold. You will come out without your leadership. You will come out, but you will wish you stayed in. Not knowing who we are is scary, Andre… Vir… Go. Do you know who you are? I do not think you do. I think you need the Junior Heavyweight Championship to hide that you do not know who you are. You have nothing to call your own, so you take from others. You take from me, and you will take from everyone. No more. I will help you see who you are. It is just a man that wants. Want, want want… Power… Money… Fame… You want, but you don’t know how to have. You want to be Champion, but you do not have it. You want to be the best, but you do not have what it takes to be the best. You roam the Earth not knowing who you are. You will watch me with Tres Comas and my Championship back, and you will know. You will know who you are, and where you belong. Underneath me. In my shadow. In your nightmare. That is your life now. This is where it starts. Tonight at Domination. You will have everything taken. You will watch, and only watch when it is over. You will watch until you put a gun to your head, and countdown...



on July 27th 2018, 11:59 pmAria Jaxon

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 FINALLY meets his end at the hands of Aria Jaxon. This long, drawn-out saga can finally end. What separates this match 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, with his guaranteed title shot, 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 Domination live 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.

And though you question why I had the rest of The Phantom Troupe on hand to deliver my previous remarks, rest assured that I didn’t force any of them to be there. They gathered around to listen to me read your eulogy, just as all the people watching Domination will be on hand to watch me take the blade you love to wield and behead you in front of all of those who were foolish enough to put their faith in you. In a shell of a man that I’ve chipped away at every chance I got. You stand before me not as a hero, but as a veneer laid over a man who’s convinced that this is the night he realizes all his dreams and pushes through the pain to achieve great things, but no. Your fiancee, her brother, all of your stupid little Shoot Nation drones, they can all watch what I do to their leader. What a REAL leader does to a counterfeit one. I can’t wait for this saga to end. It’ll be sweet to be remembered as the victor.


ghosts in the machine

----Malice aforethought is defined as an intention to kill or harm. It separates unlawful killings from murder, premeditation from impulsive, though heinous, acts-- crimes of passion. The phrase is predominantly employed when regarding defendants believed to have committed murder, but it holds not dissimilar connotations when applied to other microcosms.
----For instance, in professional wrestling malice aforethought can be considered to be the methodical means by which a competitor prepares for his (or her) in-ring competition against a given foe. However, if an individual possess true malice aforethought, it is not competition they prepare for, nor is it for against a foe, per se.
----It’s preparation for slaughter enacted upon a victim.
----Our scene opens upon the bulging vein in the forehead of a man who possesses this true, visceral, and potent malice aforethought. One might even say that his demeanor illustrates that he, like A Man Possessed, indulges in the wrathful intent inherent in the demons guiding his thoughts, his actions. He finds himself in a hotel room just outside Fukuroi City, Shizouka, Japan, eyes reddened, though it is unclear whether or not this is resultant of a lack of sleep or rage. He sits in a chair approximately eight feet from the foot of his bed donning what once was a spectacularly tailored and worn black suit, but has dilapidated into a lack of a tie, the top two to three buttons undone to reveal a white undershirt, and a noticeable lack of a blazer.
----The room is dimly lit only by the illumination of a candle on a small wooden table beside the left arm of Kai Stevens’s chair. Beside the candle, though close to the edge of the table, rests an average height glass with a wide frame, a drink comprised of liquor and a few mixers within. When Stevens reaches with his left hand, pulls the glass to his lips without directing his eyes towards the camera, he takes a large swig, as if stressed and in dire need of an alcohol-fueled release. When he swallows, the vein on his neck bulges even further, as if it were sheer hate and anger coursing through his veins rather than blood.
----"They say," he initiates with an obviously immense degree of restraint. "That masks eventually smother the wearer."
----Before flicking his eyes to the camera, the Envoy of the End pulls the glass to his lips once more to consume further into his mixed liquor drink. Something rather pressing appears to radiate from his overwhelmingly uncharacteristic self-control, as evidenced by his jaw clenching tightly and his eyes remaining narrowed in effort.
----]"But me? I know nothing of wearing masks. From the day I was born till the day I die, I will be exactly who I am-- unapologetically. But what I can tell you about people who wear masks is that there’s only two kinds of ‘em… A man with a plan or… Or a coward. My opponent at Domination, though he had enough balls to at least accept my challenge? Falls into the latter of the two."
----As Stevens glances back over to the glass of alcohol in his hand, swirling it with a slight flick of his wrist, a man steps forward from the depths of the shadows behind the Inevitable. His presence had been masked by the lighting -- or lack thereof -- though it appears Stevens has been aware the entire time of his rather ominous setting. The man dons a fully black suit, save for a dark red tie and a gunmetal gray tie clip.
----While Kai’s attire had been unraveled -- disheveled if you will -- this man, clearly Brian Church seems to have maintained his professional and almost rigid aesthetic demeanor. A smirk grips his face as he elaborates on his protégé’s remarks.
----"And the best thing about cowards," he begins. "Is that no matter how much they rant and rave and try to convince the world around them that they are, in fact, not the bottom bitches they’ve proven time and time again they are... Putting them in their place and exposing them for the frauds they are will always be one of the most wonderful sensations one can experience."
----"And come Saturday night," adds the Cowboy Killer. "Come Saturday night that is exactly what I will do to the Apparition. When I went out there all those weeks ago and I… I told him to his face--"
----"Well, it would have been his face if he weren’t so preoccupied with hiding behind a mask."
----"I extended the challenge," continues Stevens. "And now I finally get what I want. Since I offered the Apparition a chance to show his Shoot Nation that the Ronin’s now continued dominance over them is something less than what it is, I’ve been relatively unable to give to that bottom feeder what he deserves. And now that I’ll have the chance again?"
----Church’s eyes flick down to Stevens, who slams the glass against the table and rises to his feet with a swift and almost vengeful manner. His nostrils flare as his jaw and fists clench, eyes narrowing as his brow furrows. It is clear that something has taken control of Kai at this point, as he does not seem his usual arrogant and to-the-point self. He seems more vindictive, more animalistic, more ravenous. Church’s eyebrow lifts slightly as he watches Kai, his heir apparent, allow the venomous content of his rhetoric to fill the air once more.
----"You better BET YOUR ASS that I’m going to be bringing this fight, this fuckin’ SLAUGHTER right to his doorstep. I have no more patience left in me to let the Apparition off easy, to even allow him to leave the building Saturday night with his life still intact. Y’see, I really don’t like cowards… And the only kinda’ coward I hate worse or the ones who are literally such immense bitches that they literally have to tuck their tail between their legs -- the only thing between those legs, I’m betting -- and run away... Like you did, Apparition, for four years. And what makes that even more sad and pitiful for you, buddy? Is that in my career, one which has spanned only half the time you were hiding from your comeuppance? Has already been more significant. It’s already been more impressive... And above all else, Apparition? It’s already been enough to make you, for all your so-called veteran savvy? Enough to make you the underdog."
----Church steps around the table to stand beside his mentee, a glass of alcohol (presumably) in his left hand as well. He grins and takes a sip before stretching out the index finger from this very hand towards the camera.
----"We don’t give a shit what the pundits are saying. We wouldn’t give a shit if they put out statistical odds that suggested you even have a modicum of a chance of walkin’ out alive Saturday night. Wanna’ know why? Because it doesn’t matter who Kai Stevens is butchering and splattering across the canvas in the ring. You cannot fathom the sheer immensity of the fuck we DO NOT GIVE who gets in our way. Because nothing can stop the Inevitable… And for you, Apparition? And for your entire Shoot Nation? Your unceremonious end is just that... Inevitable."
----"Y’see, while you’ve been around longer than I have, Apparition, you personify a laughable and honestly kinda’ embarrassing stereotype… One where you can’t teach an old dog any new tricks... And considering that since the day I stepped foot in the squared circle till the day they’re burying my ass, all I’ve been is new trick after new trick after new trick? I’m starting to suspect that you’re also gonna’ personify a cliché."
----"You never see the shot that takes you down."
----"You were warned. You were told that I’d be coming for ya’ and that when Kai Stevens puts a target on your back," he explains, forming a gun with his fingers and pointing it cockily towards the camera. "The only thing you can do is smoke ‘em if you got ‘em. So I hope that you can get your smokes in, Apparition… Because Saturday night I’m bringing new tricks that’ll make your head spin so fast that it’s even easier to rip it off your fucking shoulders.
----"This is a dog eat dog world, Apparition. And you said it yourself, guys like me are here to replace you... Because that’s what you do with old dogs… Y’know what else they do with old dogs, bud?" His question hangs in the air unanswered. "They put them the FUCK DOWN!"
----As Stevens fumes, Church inches towards the camera to take the reins. When the Dismembered Soul’s oration hits the air, Stevens scratches at his beard and takes another large swig of his drink.
----"Not too long ago you called Kai Stevens a young gun, but if I’m being honest with you? Kai Stevens is a weapon you’ve never heard of... And if you even had? You’d be shitting yourself, because the Envoy of the End is a whole new breed of warfare that you? You’re immeasurably unqualified and unprepared for.
----"I don’t want to stand here and hit you with cliché after cliché, as that seems to be more of a Shoot Nation thing, but the fact of the matter is this, Apparition. Saturday night doesn’t represent a changing of the guard. It does not represent a passing of the torch, and y’wanna’ know why? It’s not because you’re holding onto it or whatever your delusions of grandeur might try to convince you’s gonna’ happen… It’s because you never had it."
----With reckless abandon and young guns a-blazin’, the Revenant roars forth a wrathfully driven verbal skewering with such stark and utterly horrifying vitriol that it might suggest a rabid nature.
----"I don’t want any torch. I don’t give a damn about changing of the guards or ANY OF THAT SHIT... All I care about, Apparition? Is that from the second you signed your own death warrant by accepting my challenge? There’s been somethin’ inside me... Something festering beneath the surface… Boiling my blood… And now that wrath, that ravenous and insatiable demon within me is rearing its ugly head through each and every pore.
----"The void inside me, Apparition? Week in and week out I fill it with the blood of whichever shitstain they feed to me... But Saturday night? Saturday night that aching and gnawing emptiness, that void? I’ll fit it with SO much more. I’ll fit it with the screams... The cries and begging for mercy. I’ll saturate it with every last drop of blood you’ve got in your entire body… And I’ll fill it with everything that I take from you.
----"I’ll start with your dignity," he elaborates. "And then I’ll move on to the respect that I not only expect and have MORE than earned, but I DEMAND... And then I’m gonna’ take that STUPID FUCKIN’ MASK and RIP IT OFF YOUR UGLY MUG and force-feed it to ya’.
----Stevens lifts the glass back to his lips once more, seemingly intent on completing the emptying of the glass. As he does so, Church grins confidently and proudly, channeling his own resent and disdain into the words he’d supply in assistance to Stevens’s diatribe.
----"Saturday night, Kai Stevens will give them a real reason to call you the Forgotten One. I sure as Hell know I’ll have forgotten about ya’ by Sunday morning, and I wouldn’t be surprised if the entire wrestling industry forgets about you after what Kai Stevens is about to do to you… You call yourself an Apparition, you bottom feeding son of a bitch? If you weren’t a ghost already, you could bet your ass that Kai Stevens would FUCKIN’ MAKE YOU ONE... And y’know what? I’m gonna’ take great measures of satisfaction in watching him dismember you and show the Shoot Nation what the new age looks like. And if history is anything to be paid attention to? That new age is gonna’ come down upon your head like a plague and Kai Stevens, like God damn always? Will do what he does best... And leave the most lasting first impression this industry’s ever seen."
----So suddenly that it even almost startles Church, Kai Stevens squeezes the glass in his hand to the point of shattering. As shards of glass drop furiously to the floor and blood begins to glide down Stevens’s flesh, a sadistic and twisted grin cracks across his bearded face and he steps forward, squeezing this very hand into a tight fist.
----"Whether it be with someone else from the Shoot Nation sticking their nose where it doesn’t belong, y’know, to fight your battles for you? Or whether it be with the ENTIRE FUCKIN’ SHOOT NATION, I don’t care... I’m going to embarrass you. I’m going to make you wish that your mother had ABORTED YOU on Saturday night, motherfucker... And you best take this to heart before I SHOVE MY GOD DAMNED FIST INTO YOUR CHEST AND RIP YOUR FUCKIN’ HEART RIGHT OUT... The end is coming for you… It’s gonna’ be Biblical... Because it’s no apparition. It’s no myth... It’s just pure, unadulterated violence... And it’s Inevitable. Which means that for you, Apparition? For your entire career as far as I’m concerned? And for the Shoot Nation’s delusional beliefs that it can hold a candle to the Ronin, let alone Kai Stevens? The end is nigh.
----Stevens cackles ominously and maniacally, Church joining in with him. As Kai clenches the bloodied fist even tighter and blood stains his whitened knuckles, it grows incredibly clear that Kai Stevens is willing to do anything to beat the Apparition. He cares not for whose blood it is he has to spill to do so.
----Thus is the nature of true malice aforethought.


Last edited by Kai Stevens on July 27th 2018, 11:57 pm; edited 2 times in total (Reason for editing : Coding Error)
on July 27th 2018, 11:50 pmKikyo Himura.
Aw, Belle. You seem very angry, my friend. Why don't you just go sit over in the losers corner and tranquilo alongside your good friend The Apparition, mkay? All I've heard from you is excuse after excuse and yet I'm the one making excuses for myself? You must be trying to project your own failure onto me, ew. How dare you try to compare me to yourself? I've picked up more wins here than you have, probably. Until I came around, you were nothing but floating around through time and space trying to find your place and guess what?! I know just where you belong, Belle! Right beneath my boot like the trash you are. See, I don't think you understand the pain I am going to inflict upon you. Sure, you can say what you want about me. But, one way or another, everyone is talking about me.

Not to mention, I am proving my point and leaving all of you losers laid out beneath my boot. One by one, I have proven that anyone who steps to me? They get knocked right back down. So, I suggest you keep that mouth of yours shut unless you're going to prove you can handle me. Come Dominion, there is only one place for you, beneath me. There will be no Apparition, no Kai Stevens, none of our fellow stable mates. It will come down to just you and me and I can understand why you're yapping like the little flea bitten mutt you are: You're afraid of me, Belle. That is all there is to it. You fear me and even you are too stuck upon yourself to realize it. But, that's okay. I can make you realize how much you will fear me at the end of it all. You will be the one kneeling before a true queen while I have my boot against your throat and my hand raised in victory.

You are nothing but a pathetic little girl who cannot seem to find her place. You seem to think you know a lot about me, but you don't know a damn thing about me, you pathetic little gaijin girl. So, before you open your mouth the next time, which I truly hope this is the last time I ever run into you, you get your facts straight and then you can come back to me and beg for my forgiveness. I'm a nice person, Belle, that is what you fail to understand. So, I see why you would try to make a mistake and consider myself, someone who is well above your standards, as a coward. The only coward I see is you, as you were the one who started this when you chose to attack me. But, don't you worry, Miss Kinglsey... The Scarlet Flame will burn on forever, leaving nothing but the waste of your ashes in my rise. You will fall just as the next one... Ashes... Ashes... They all fall down.

See you very soon, Belle. I truly cannot wait to leave you in a pile of your own misery with another loss added to your record. It will be my pure joy and satisfaction to be the one to put you down like the mutt you are. I hate having to get my hands dirty with silly girls who do not know their place. But, I am not afraid to shut that trap of yours myself. Permanently. You should have thought twice before making an enemy out of me. Spend your last days wisely, you'll need all the energy you can get before coming face to face with me tomorrow. Goodnight, sleep tight... Dream of your own demise and it will soon come at the hands of The Scarlet Flame!
on July 27th 2018, 11:44 pmJaydayne Pendragon
That was amazing Aria, I give the Phantom Troupe credit for that little entrance, I never knew you were all so enthusiastic about PR stunts. I especially appreciated how you showcased just how they “think for themselves” and how “grown” they are by forcing them to stand there making funny faces while you go on and on infinitely in your tales. Shouldn’t one of them be getting ready for their Deathmatch? And the undisciplined Gronk? That man barely puts in the effort to make any of these pre-show appearances anymore, how much nagging did you have to do to get that lumbering fool to show up for yours when he won’t even do his own?
I am ashamed to say it, but I almost got caught up in all the glitz and the glam of your display. Like a magician using assistants and distractions for their sleight of hand, you had pulled off a grand show of leadership and stability.
But then you spoke a lie too big for even you to get away with. A lie so offensive and vulgar, despite it being in my favour, it had jolted me back to reality through it’s absurdity. You began crafting this story about how you were shocked by how few people were willing to face you. To get away with it, you even spoke as if I was in the minority willing to face you for that championship. You of all people should know Aria, I can tell by you speaking of Drake cultural appropriation, no decent member of a community would EVER accept being told the equivalent of “you’re one the good ones” Though accepting it would have been to the mutual benefit of you and I, I will never throw my comrades under the bus just to prompt myself up!
But despite your words, I never felt the urge to go around hunting down every member of Shoot Nation and distract them from their own matches so they could appear in this talk of mine and make some great show of how they’re serious about this battle, and serious about their own careers. Belle, The Apparition, Kawada-sama, Mizarki, Cassidy, and Santiago work night and day for opportunities like the one I have, everyone knows that. When I noticed I didn’t feel compelled to pull such a stunt, I began to notice what it took for you to feel it was necessary to go the lengths you do. Insecurity, you feel the Phantom Troupe’s grip around the throat of this company loosening, just as you do for that championship. Me? I don’t have those kinds of concerns. I know my people are healthy and only getting stronger. I know they have my back because they display that on their own time, and the loyalty within Shoot Nation has never been in question. We don’t have coups in forms of winner becomes leader matches, we don’t have our leaders just decide to walk out of the business, and come to think of it, as I look across Strong Style Wrestling, Shoot Nation is the only team who have had the same head since day one! I may yet to have the championships, but I have the respect of the people, even members of other factions get on social media and give credence to me before they have their own. That’s because I have a poise and dignity that grants me a level of gravitas that you will never have as long as you continue down this path, no matter how many times you escape justice and confuse it for anything else but changing the date the guillotine drops.
But the prime source you tried you use to get away with your fiction is something that speaks to an even deeper rot in this company. Drake showed up and was granted a championship match just by pointing you out as a target in some convoluted affair, when all of us were waiting in line. All because he had history with you? It’s an insanity that mirrors, and only happens because of, you being champion. It’s this company as it’s worst.
Let the last original leader standing tell you something about history, when Brian Daniels founded this place and created Shoot Nation with me at the helm, he envisioned us to be the faces of this company….we were meant to represent Puroresu! We are the Shinsengumi! So what of Shoot Nation’s history? When will that come into play? I hear the members of Shoot Nation, just as I hear the voice of my fiancée coming to this country to support me. I know, they struggle with the idea of being in what they feel to be just tag matches for the team and they clench their fists and hold back rage when they’re thrown in random matches at big events. Kawada-sama was the most vocal about not liking where we are, he spoke of it before our contest, but I always felt the same inner turmoil they all dio. That’s why I value my allies, because despite it all, they stick to their principles and continue through this strife, I know how hard that truly is. I’ve lost more big matches than anyone, but it has only tempered my blade and resolve. To be a samurai is to often have your sword sheathed, despite having the greatest blades in the world. Lightning doesn’t always get to strike when the wicked frolic beneath sunny days. But when the time comes, where wrongs are made right, unparalleled glory is achieved.

It’ll make all this pain more than worth it.

on July 27th 2018, 11:39 pmThe One True Pairing

Sakura Corleone walks on the bedroom floor of a penthouse on the topmost floor of a hotel in Tokyo Japan, amazed by the view from the big windows. It had already been so many times that they have stayed in the same penthouse, they pretty much own the room at this point! But still, the beauty, the view of the Tokyo skyline along with the joyful culture of the place she was born but wasn’t raised in, always filled her with happiness, especially knowing that everywhere she goes, her one true love Cassius is always there with her.

Sakura Corleone: It’s beautiful, isn’t it?

Sakura sips from the straw of the Pepsi she is enjoying facing the window as she felt Cassius’ presence just behind her.

Cassius Corleone: It sure is. 

It didn’t occur to Sakura that Cassius was referring to her when he uttered those words. But it is a fact by now that Cassius’ happiness is more apparent when Sakura is smiling. Sakura turns to Cassius looking like an innocent little girl who is happy to see her best friend after a long time apart. He always gave her butterflies. She wraps her arm around his neck gently over his shoulder.

Sakura Corleone: Oh, my Cassius. I can’t wait ‘til tomorrow. We have another Date Night! I am so excited! My gear is ready… and I have trained a lot, not that I needed to do much considering who we’re facing, but I am so ready to share the ring with you again and remind everyone who the true King and Queen of Soulmate Style Wrestling are! I can feel it in my veins. My blood is rushing. I am so excited about this! 

Cassius Corleone: Nothing makes me more pleased than your smile, my Cherry Blossom. You’d think that after all the times those freaks have come at us and failed, they’ve already learned their lesson. You’d think that after all of the things we’ve promised and fulfilled, they’d act smart and hold their tongue before getting further humiliated by the One True Pairing, but it seems the Phantom Troupe are as masochistic as they get. I’d feel bad for beating two ignorant, defenseless little sissies, but for the sake of the Love Bird Tag Team Championship, for the sake of Sakura, I’ll do what needs to be done.

Sakura Corleone: I don’t know why anyone can point a finger at me and call me crazy when CM Nas and Saul Omen are more prone to suicidal tendencies. The fact alone that they are in this match is suicidal. The fact that they are inches away from being buried and humiliated just shows how much they are falling apart into tiny pieces. They don’t seem to act careful, as a matter of fact, they both seem to have given up on the idea of protecting their well-being and went forth to self-destruct mode! What will their false Queen say if they see them make an ass out of their precious faction? Have they given up all hope and just decided that he doesn’t really get along with everybody? That moron CM Nas believes that he is an influencer, a man who has inspired tens of thousands of names in the world, yet he couldn’t even defeat us when it really matters. It’s one thing to conquer, but it’s an entirely different thing the fact that you pick which places to conquer in and which names to do your best. If you are the Champion that you say you are, you would do your best in each and every match you partake in and not just a select few that you think is worth your time… or else you won’t be worth anyone else’s time, just like he is worth nothing to the One True Pairing. He selects his matches against the easy competition because not because we are not entertaining… Look at us, Cassius! We are cute as fuck! 

Cassius Corleone: That is very true, my Cherry Blossom. We are the peak of entertainment compared to this guy who even admits to himself that he’s a boring self-loathing idiot. 

Sakura Corleone: It's so annoying, I know. What he does in OWA does not concern anything in Strong Style Wrestling. He knows this. You have educated him in this, Cassius, but he just refuses to listen because he cannot stray from his comfort zone! Goodluck to him being Champion in a company that has nothing to do with us. Goodluck to him swaying his accomplishment that means absolutely nothing to us, as if we for a second would feel intimidated! He could be royalty in another company all he wants, but in the face of the competition that has repeatedly bested him, he is nothing but a brittle little shell. Once I step on CM Nas, like I have stepped on the insects and the cockroaches that come near my Cassius, whether the Phantom Troupe and Shoot Nation and Ronin, maybe he can get a permanent job in OWA like he’s supposed to, and stop making a fool of our Soulmate Style Wrestling by bringing in dead lazy performances week after week that he decides to show up. The One True Pairing, however, is evolved. We conquer what we decide to conquer, and from here we only intend to do more. We don’t bite off what we can’t chew. We don’t take tough challenges and make stupid excuses of how they are “not entertaining enough”, we just bust their noses and let our fists on their faces entertain the world! 

Cassius Corleone: I wouldn’t take anything he says to any value, my Sakura, because he as a man is not valuable to us. Only we matter. Only One True Pairing matters. 

Sakura Corleone: Oh, you’re so sweet, my Cassius! Really, this entire thing sounds pathetic. “I don’t want to waste time and energy on you two!” He doesn’t want to seem like he takes this one bit serious so he has a go-to excuse for when he gets defeated, his safety net from the complete embarrassment that he is about to endure when he sees that Saul Omen ends up the one carrying his ass in this match, despite claiming to be “The Best”. It’s the most used up line any professional wrestler has uttered when they know they’re fighting a war they can’t win. It’s the oldest catchphrase I’ve heard in the years I’ve followed wrestling as a fan. If he is such a World Champion, then why is he not the one taking the lead for the Phantom Troupe? If he is the Best in the World, then why can’t he even once have a meaningful victory against two people who are supposedly not worth his time? And when he said he would “Try”? Oh, nothing made me laugh harder than that. It makes me so happy that he’s not even ensuring any victory, but he will “try” It makes me so happy that he pretty much has just admitted defeat. I feed off of my opponent’s hopelessness, but this is a way different mask that he wears over his face, Cassius! It’s the mask you wear to not be recognized because he knows damn well that there is just no stopping us, and the only way to avoid it is to pretend he’s not there… but we see him. We see all of them. This is it... We have the Phantom Troupe cornered… The only thing to do now is break them and bury them… I’d be surprised if they even try again after this. 

Sakura moves closer to Cassius, moving her face closer to his. 

Sakura Corleone: And there’s no one I’d rather share this moment with than my handsome Cassius. You are so amazing!

Cassius Corleone: You’re even more amazing, my Cherry Blossom.

The Tokyo Skyline at night glows even more as the minutes pass. The stars started to show up as the sky gets even darker. It’s the perfect time, indeed. The perfect time to celebrate their happiness. The perfect time to share a loving kiss.

Last edited by The One True Pairing on July 28th 2018, 2:41 am; edited 1 time in total
on July 27th 2018, 11:24 pmSaul Omen
The Song of Saul Omen: Chapter XII

[Scenes are shown of past altercations that has arisen from the dark force of The Reaper at work in Saul Omen. The destruction he delivered unto Koji Senju and forced Steven Cassidy to watch as the career of his mentor was ended right before his eyes, the unified effort of The Phantom Troupe that included him when they denied Jaydayne Pendragon the right to crowned as the inaugural SSW Puroresu Heavyweight Championship, but suddenly two snakes appear on the screen that slither and undulate on the screen before the sights of The One True Pairing’s dominance over the tag team division and the duo of CM Nas and Saul Omen eclipse the vile nature of The Soul Collector himself. The team suffering at the hands of The Judas Cradle, the dominance of the romantic pair since their triumph as the champions, only for the scene to return to the sight of Saul himself. He’s standing outside of the Shizouka Stadium in the night with the streets littered with various souls, looking up towards what seems to be a clock by the stadium, looking to be counting down towards the event of Domination with the icy glare of Saul transforming into a sinister smile as he turns with his face being revealed entirely.]

Saul Omen: The destined date is fast approaching with the moment of clarity happens to reveal that Soulmate Style Wrestling is nothing more than a farce. Soulmate Style Wrestling being a mixture of the luck that they have on their favor and the nice little phrase that they can attach to shirts and merchandise to sell to the audience of sheep that will flock with the cash to purchase it. They find themselves bored senseless and fatigued from the constant defenses of people that they find unworthy of the challenge that those precious straps of gold that they hold on their shoulders, but the burden that they feel will soon be lifted off of their shoulders. The Herculean task of flying to Japan to represent Strong Style Wrestling as the reigning tag team championship shall be put to rest, the weight of defending the championship against all challengers that attempt to vie for the gilded throne of champion shall be lifted from their shoulders, and the romance of the privileged pair can resume with vacationing in Cancun and honeymooning in Paris with all the luxury they could ever hope for. The lethargy and apathy towards the battle that shall be waged at Domination already goes to show that you won’t bring your best into this fight, because you don’t believe that The Phantom Troupe is worth that fight. A piece of advice that you should take with you once this war has been settled, once the gold has been stripped from your clutches and brought into the brotherhood that I share with CM Nas to have complete dominance of every championship in Strong Style Wrestling worth holding, one that you will hold in the back of your mind. I almost don’t even believe that I should share this with you because I believe that you should already have known the rules to the warfare that we put ourselves through for our own ideals, but the deity that I praise has forced my hand to make sure that you have this message resonate with your soul before I claim it for its delight and satiate the hunger it feels. Jaywalker should have taken the time to explain this to you, however, this war between The Tres Comas Club might have left this fact lacking into the education that you might have purchased for him, but don’t worry… this advice comes for free. Well, more so with a price, in those SSW Freebird Tag Team Championship that you flaunt as wedding bands for your romantic union. You might have won a few battles on this path towards Domination, but don’t believe that this war has been won until the final nail has been placed into the coffin of your slain foes.

[The familiar noise of static and the snarl of a monster was heard as the scenario was suddenly transported into the proverbial church that was almost home to the dark assailant, recognizable by the same stained glass windows that depicted strange occult art upon them, before Saul rolled his neck with a dark aura surrounding him. He stared back with blackened pupils in his eyes right before they dissipate into his normal hazel eyes that followed with his icy glare. Beside him in the hall of the church was two coffins, etched onto them are two doves with one green and the other pink, right before he places his hands upon them.]

Saul Omen: I have patiently waited for this moment with each of you and right now, I see the battle that comes with a smile on my face, because I shall finally slay the twin-headed serpent that has been a thorn in my side arm in with CM Nas to end this war. These coffins will serve as a literal interpretation of the figurative death that shall be placed upon once our Domination has been completed inside of Shizouka Stadium. This is what awaits you as you’ve already sewn your fate with how you’ve For you want to cast these aspersions about what people deserve, but evidently you should already know that this world has nothing to do about what souls deserve on this plain, but it’s about what you can take. This is all evident from the way that you even became the SSW Freebird Tag Team Champions in the first place, capitalizing on the swarm of souls that were fighting for that prize to serve as distractions for you to seize the perfect opportunity to steal those titles away from us, proving that this world doesn’t care about what people deserve. If it did children wouldn’t be left without parents, disease and war wouldn’t be afflicted upon this planet, the harsh evils of the human nature in murder and theft would be inexistent to us, but this is not the utopia that you might have searched for. You might not believe that CM Nas and I deserve this glorious prospect that has been given to us by Jacob Senn, but it doesn’t matter. You can try to reason with it in terms of the lack of competition in the tag team division, string together this theory that it might be because of mystical fate that brought us to you, but this was our plan to bring us to this point and claim those championships for The Phantom Troupe. Everything from the little minor battles that we allowed you to have to laud over us, the comfort that you have in your vanity and pride to believe that we’re not worth the opportunity to challenge for your championship, all leading up to the lackluster effort that you are looking to show in Shizouka Stadium will lead to the utter Domination and demise of The One True Pairing. You might find this church and what surrounds me to promote this aura to be something popular or lauded at, but this is what will bring the end of your reign and we take what belonged to us since we began our hunt for those belts. This isn’t about how profound the words are that escape my lips or gaining the sympathetic ear of the people, this has always been about the conquest and the riches that followed it. You’ve been exhausted by carrying those straps on your shoulder and with that, we’ll remove the thing that has brought such wear to your souls. Think of this as a blessing in disguise for in the fact that you won’t have to continue this grind of standing against people that you find below your sense of worth and value, but can return to being ignorant in your passionate bliss. Hold those belts tightly as you make the flight over towards Japan once more, cherish them as you make the drive into Shizouka, and flaunt them with pride as you walk into Domination with all the vanity in the world. The one thing that you said will be true in the end… this will be your last chore. There will be no more defenses for you, no more challengers to line up at your doorstep, and you can relish in each other for the rest of your days. However, there shall be one faint echo that shall haunt your memory as when you decide to make your return to Japan with the visage of CM Nas and I holding what you once held, it shall be made clear once more to the reason why The One True Pairing fell in Shizouka.

Memento Mori.

[Saul Omen removes hands from the caskets that were made special for The One True Pairing and underneath each dove, a line of text has been scrawled into the coffin, almost as if it was done by hand. It reads the signature line of Saul Omen’s and the motto that he has lived by: Memento Mori. We see Saul have his back turned as he rises up to the podium of the church before he raises his hand for a snap of his finger. The instant he does, everything turns into pitch black, leaving his words at that.]
on July 27th 2018, 7:38 pmFalke Halstenberg
SSW Domination Promo #1: “Bow, Or Be Made To”

(Word Count, 1,318)

*Footage plays of Falke Halstenberg driving Shinati Mizarki down on his neck with D-Day to end their contest. The camera pans into Falke with a very satisfied smile painted across his face, he holds up two fingers, middle and index, signifying the number two*  

Falke: Two… two men have now bowed to the regime of Falke Halstenberg. Some people may doubt the legitimacy of my victory over Shinati, saying that i cheated to attain my victory, or even saying that it was a “close match.” While I do not believe the match was close by any stretch of the imagination, a victory is a victory no matter how close or far the loser was from attaining it. When Germany beat Brazil seven nil, it resulted in the same thing that happened after their win against Argentina in a one nil cup tie, it was a victory for Germany. No matter how close or far Shinati was from beating me, I won. A victory for Germany and more importantly a victory for the Phantom Troupe. But oh, I cannot dwell on the past for long… I must look to the future. Specifically this Sunday, this Sunday happens to be SSW Domination.

*Falke opens the door to the room he's in, exiting the room. The camera follows Falke into another room, wherein Falke points to a cabinet in which lies a few different trophies and medals. Falke looks at these signs of achievement pridefully. He chuckles a bit*

Falke: do you see this? In this cabinet lies most of my awards for freestyle wrestling that I amassed. It is quite a bit to take in, I know. The sight of success will make many angry as naturally, human beings hate the mere mention of other's achievements and oh do i understand… but I promise that this is proof of my dominance, this is what I hang my hat on. What does Shinati Mizarki hang his hat on? His morals? His values? What an overrated concept to live your life upon the smothering ideal of what may be honorable or not honorable, this is why Shoot Nation is so weak.. this is why they fall but nearly every time to the Phantom Troupe. We have calculated the best possible way to not only defeat our opponents physically by pinning their shoulders to the mat for three seconds, no… not just that. But before we even step between the ropes with an opponent, our style of wrestling and our reputation of dominance creeps into the mind of our opponents… we barely need to get into your head ourselves because your mind does it for us. The human mind is only subject to be nervous when it feels it is possible to be defeated. Any man or woman likes to feel strong, but the moment you feel weaker than another, whether it be mentally or physically, the mind percieves the person that defeated it as superior. I'm sure, Shinati, that you feel this. You feel uncertainty. You feel as if your pride could possibly be regained as well, no? But there is also the weighted feeling of you having to add another tick to that growing loss column when it matters most. There is the fear of failure in your eyes. Best wipe it away as if I see that on Sunday, you may consider yourself a defeated man.

*Falke sighs to himself, clicking his tongue as if to make a 'tsk, tsk, tsk’ sound. His cocky and wry smile turns into a grimace of annoyance and anger. He puts his arms behind his back and folds them, then begins pacing as he speaks*

Falke: I have seen what you both have to say, and my my did I expect such ignorant tongues to make such ignorant claims. Cassidy… I'll start with you. You and I do not know much about each other, that's correct. But you have me wrong from the get-go, I will not tell you it is my God given talent that closed the door on Shinati in our bout, but rather the resourcefulness of a man who doesn't give a shit about bending the rules as long as a win shall be secured. You sure as hell do not understand what it takes to make it, and imply that I'm conceited, but you seem to show off your own conceit in full regalia. I thought I was the bad guy here, but so be it… You may be as confident as you like, you may overlook me for my cohort if that is what you please to do, but it is never wise to take your eye off of a snake while he slithers, lest he bite your ignorant head off of your shoulders. You, unlike Shinati, have not bowed your head as of yet to my Regime. What a shame really, you seem so plucky in attitude, and those are the most fun to break and watch scream. I will not allow you to overlook what will be your downfall, Cassidy. You will look in my eyes as I allow you to bow to me. You will repeat after me… “I will never attempt to fight a God again.” You will, and it will be only righteous to watch another member of the weak and idiotic Shoot Nation bow his head in the shame of defeat.

*Falke stops pacing for a moment to crank his neck, then to crack his knuckles into his palm with the scowl still planted firmly on his face. His nostrils flare as he frowns even more menacingly, then he looks straight at the camera and continues pacing, even faster now.*

Falke: you seem to have said more to me Shinati, but you have done the same as last time you addressed me. You tried to express so much yet you said so little, and with that little bit you made yourself look like the tool that is the textbook thing that someone thinks of when they see or consider the shoot nation. Every single one of you are useless imbeciles. In a fight, why should it matter that I did something underhanded? I pinned you to the mat for three seconds… I won the day over you, but oh idiotic minds must dwell on the success of others shall they? You even claimed I could not best you in a wrestling match, which is just flat out untrue because I already have. You may call fluke all you want but you have bowed to the regime of Falke Halstenberg. You try and try again to turn things around and achieve success, but you have not yet done so because you are useless. You are weak, you are not cut out for success, Shinati. You can call foul and whine about something when it doesn't go your way, but the honest truth is that I am better than you. I shall make you see it once again at Domination when I employ my superiority not only to best you for the second time, but your partner.

*Falke's grimace then turns again into a grin*

Falke: I think that Maelstrom and I, while quite different, will mesh well. Because we are both Phantom Troupe. Steven Cassidy said that this is a war between the Phantom Troupe and the Shoot Nation that will not end until one faction lay dead before the other. On Sunday, at Domination, I will draw more blood in my campaign against the conservative and non progressive values of the Shoot Nation. I will raise my flag of the Phantom Troupe high in the air and show my pride for my allies and their endeavors. I said last week, I will say it again. It is now a new regime in Strong Style Wrestling… you will either bow, or be made to bow.

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