Two words.
 
Two words will define our nights at Territorial Invasion. You are going to do your worst to me. You are going to try to aggravate my injuries. You are going to try and cause new injuries. You are going to try to end my career and probably even my life, all for the Answers World Championship. I know this because it is exactly the same mindset I have going into our match. It’s the same mindset I’ve brought into the ring with me for years. It’s the mindset I had four years ago when I ended the career of John Alloy. It’s the mindset I continued to have as the night went on and I had to defeat my protégé to capture the EAW Championship. Now I didn’t have to break you physically in the ring, all I had to do was pin you, but I sure did break you mentally. I broke your spirits and I broke the spirits of everyone in that arena in Chicago 2011. You are going to try to break me Saturday night, but the only two words you’ll get from me are “FUCK YOU.” You’re going to scream or me to quit. The ref’s going to ask me time to time whether I quit or not. “C’mon Starr what do ya say?” I’ll tell the ref to fuck himself just like I’ll tell you. Now you can say whatever you want up until Saturday, you can say anything you want throughout our match, but it will be the final two words that define you. The two words that have always defined you, “I QUIT.”
 
You’ve always been a quitter, haven’t you Dubby? That’s why this match has conveniently fallen into my favor. You’re a chronic quitter. I always knew you had what it took to be a world champion. I always knew one day I’d be able to pass the torch onto you. But time and time again you quit before you get to me. For four years you continued to quit and quit and quit. Saturday is going to end the same way. You are going to quit in the middle of the ring and acknowledge you don’t deserve to hold the Answers World Championship. I’ll admit, in front of everybody, right here and right now… Devan Dubian deserved to defeat Starr Stan at Pain for Pride VIII for the Answers World Championship. After four years you finally reached me Dub, you let me pass the torch. Well guess what, it’s time I take the torch back. I let you have a nice little reign. I let you get a Free-Per-View defense under your belt. It’s time we stop prolonging the inevitable. It’s time you revert back to your old self. Start showing that inconsistency that plagued you for your entire career. Choke in the big match just like you did for four years straight. The happy ending everyone saw at Pain for Pride was never going to be the true ending. Everyone else in the world is going to remember that night in their minds. You hitting the Bleeding Edge on your mentor. You standing over me with the Answers World Championship. Fireworks going off and streamers coming down as you celebrate your long awaited world championship win in your hometown. You know what you and I are going to remember though? The ending to our match this Saturday. For four years you professed a lot since I first beat you in 2011. But throughout all that time, even after you defeated me multiple times in non-title matches, the only memory that stood out in our brains was our 2011 match. You stamped that memory over with a bigger moment at Pain for Pride. Now I can’t produce a bigger moment for the EAW fans. That shining moment for you will going down as quite possibly the best moment in EAW history. But it’s not always the best moments that get remembered by everyone. I’ll remember my world championship wins when I’m gone from this business. Whether it be 5 wins when I’m done or I add another 5 world championships after I beat you, that’s what I’ll remember. But you and I have four to five years’ worth of history going into this match, and well, when it all crumbles down on you that’s all you’ll remember. The moment of you taking the title from me will just make the burn of me taking the title back sting even worse.
 
Don’t underestimate me Dubian. Don’t think any injury you’ve given me or that I have sustained in my entire career is going to matter. Yes I was medically cleared to fight, but I clearly have targets on me. You can target my knees, you can even try to break my neck. I will continue to fight until the Answers World Championship is back in my hands. I will fight until you utter the words, “I Quit.”

EAW is of course waiting for one of the GREATEST SUPERSTARS TO NEVER BE WORLD CHAMPION here have a well anticipated, deserved and anticipated return to this illustrious organization and as I’m waiting, I’m sitting here piecing together every single thing I messed up on the last time I was around. I graced an EAW ring around 5 years ago with my talents. It’s no secret I had a rather above average career around these parts. I loved every bit of it even though I had my differences with peoples in the hierarchy of the company. Most of the younger superstars don’t understand what it’s like to leave for years and still have that drive to want to get in the ring and attempt moonsaults, dropkicks and German suplexes AND execute them with execution to climb back on top of the mountain. Doing what it takes to show that youre good enough to solidify once again that you are still a force to be reckoned with is a hard task. For nights I’ve sat up and have thought….and have cried….just wondering and thinking about how I’ve never left the marked I’ve wanted to leave with this company! Good things come to those who wait…I’m fine with believing that’s a true statement. But as I said before, this is just a warning to those waiting to prove a point to anyone in waiting. I’ll stand at the back of a line of 100 people to prove to EAW that I don’t mind climbing the mountain to climb back to the top obtain my crime. EFEFDS PRIME JEWEL is FAR FROM BEING ROTTEN, SPOILED OR OBSOLETE… ITS MY TIME TO SHINE!

The Dank Files – Episode 6 | YouTube
 
The camera opens up to a foggy and smoky bedroom, in the shot there’s a rather unoriginal and blatant poster on the wall baring a marijuana leaf and the numbers “420”. The pillow side of a bed is also vaguely visible in the background, with Mexican flag themed bed sheets and a half empty pizza box lying on top of it, full of joint roaches. To the sound of Cypress Hill’s ‘Insane in the Brain’ in the background, we see Piff Fumador in the foreground of the shot wearing his mildly iconic black and white Luchador mask, complimented by a t-shirt baring a humorous parody of the classic Run-DMC logo – stating instead, ‘Bun THC’.
 
Piff: You hear that esé? The sound of ‘Insane in the Brain’ by Cypress Hill? See that’s what will be heard throughout the Chace Athletic Center in Rhode Island come this Monday, holmes. You’ll be hearing that when your boy Piff Fumador gets his hands raised with his mask still on his head, pride intact. I’ll go into that more in a bit, first I wanna welcome you all to another episode of the Dank Files. Exclusively on YouTube for all my amigos, and my subscribers have gone grande now I’ve reached 10,000 in a week – a lot of thanks to the EAW Facebook and Twitter pages for sharing my most recent videos, which has helped the views and subscribers out a lot. We gotta celebrate going from 1000 to 10,000 subs in a week, with a nice bud from God’s garden of good times. And because it’s a celebration, I think it only makes sense that we use the megabong – VIVA LA VIDA LOCO!!!
 
He pulls a bong from out of the camera shot, we don’t see the base but only the top of the neck as it must be about 4 feet high and doesn’t fit. Piff takes a huge hit of the bong and his eyes start watering, as he tries to hold in choking on the smoke with a screwed up face. He holds it in and eventually lets out the smoke, with his face changing to look more relieved that he didn’t choke from taking hit so big.
 
Piff: Ay dios mio, that is a hard ass bong hit. But a well deserved one, thanks to all my subcribers and I’ll keep the Dank Files smoking every week for all the EAW fans. I’m just sitting here in my bedroom in Tijuana, lamenting the idea of Piff Fumador being without his mask. That’s not right, holmes. It’s like a pizza without cheese, or KFC without chicken... Oh man some colonel does sound great right now... But you get my point, taking away my mask is like taking away my livelihood, or my WEED! It’s the ultimate insult to a luchador if you take his mask away, and that why this match is actually perfect in a way. I’ve already proven to El Landerson that I’m the best luchador in EAW, by beating him too weeks ago. Now beating him again to have him unmask!? That’s an offer I can’t refuse esé, as it’ll cement me once and for all that I’m the better lucha on Battleground.
 
The video cuts to footage from Battleground two weeks ago, all of the clips are from when Piff Fumador had the advantage, highlighting the many enziguris and hurricanranas. The collection of clips ends with the match finish, Piff dropkicking El Landerson into the exposed turnbuckle before hitting him with a DDTHC for the win. The video cuts back to Piff vlogging from his bedroom.
 
Piff: You see that, holmes? Some of the highlights of our first encounter two weeks ago, and did Landerson ever seem like he was gonna actually take down Tijuana’s Finest Strain? I don’t think so gringo, and now he wants to attack me after my match with Luke Braxton to challenge me to a rematch… With our masks on the line?! This homie is loco, I tell you what… Just also wanna say while we’re on the subject congrats to Luke Braxton who got the three count last week, it’s all good amigo, Piff has no beef with you. You won fair and square and I wish you suerte in the top prospect finals. El Landerson though, I think you’ve made a grande mistake, because come Battleground on Monday the whole EAW Universe will see that ugly cara hidden under that Lucha mask.
 
Fumador carries on talking while we see him rolling a joint, his hands are out of frame of the camera but it seems obvious to what he is doing.
 
Piff: But I guess that piece of carne asada will never learn, and he’s gonna pay the ultimate price of humiliation.. Not only will it be cemented that Piff Fumador is the best luchador in EAW, but along the way that gringo will be losing his mask. Luchas de Apuestas will be in favour of the master of the DDTHC, and Piff Fumador will carry on wrestling with his mask indeed, puffing on that weed. That’s a fact, Jack, because once I hit the 420 Splash I’m gonna pull his mask off for the world to see, before going in the back to bun some THC – Just like it says on my shirt, esé. In the meantime I’m gonna finish rolling this doob to the sound of Cypress Hill, then train a bit to prepare for Battleground. For now, this has been another episode of the Dank Files, I’ll see you fans on Monday and then again later in the week for another video. Thanks for tuning in.. And El Landerson, please bring your A game to the match, because your boy Piff Fumador… Is gonna… Blaze… You… Up…
 

End of video.

REPORT 48639 – GARLAND POLICE DEPARTMENT
 
FRIDAY SEP 18 2015 00:49 – Three teenagers, Martin Bradford, Jonathon Castro, and Olivia Gonzalez, identified several hours after the incident via dental records, were found deceased in the remains of a smoldering car crash at the intersection of Seventh and Maine in downtown Garland. Due to the time, there were no witnesses to the crash, but it is presumed by those living in the area that these three teens were part of a small group of street racers. The car’s owner, Bradford, had been cited twice for speeding in other areas of the Dallas-Fort Worth Area and was driving with a suspended license. Police were called to the scene when residents of the area heard a woman screaming. This woman is assumed to be Olivia Gonzalez, who was presumed to be the only passenger who did not die immediately on impact. Upon inspection, she died due to a combination of smoke inhalation and being burned alive. The car, a 2012 Dodge Charger, was wrapped around a telephone pole, with skid marks in the road showing that the driver had attempted to stop at the last moment before smashing head on with the pole at approximately 95 mph. There appears to be no foul play, though there is some speculation that an additional street racer may have sideswiped Bradford’s car before the crash.
 
…
 
The residents of Garland, interviewed after the incident each stated that they had not gone out to help because they thought they saw a man already helping them—a sign that police or firefighters had already arrived to the scene. However, it is believed that the car was left burning with Olivia Gonzalez trapped inside for at least eleven minutes.
 
[END EXCERPT]
 
The camera pans across the wreckage of the 2012 Dodge Charger wrapped around the telephone pole, crumpled like a tin can with flames wrapping around the body of the car. There is weak banging from the inside of one of the intact windows as well as faint screams that slowly fade away. A man dressed in a press suit enters the frame, his body illuminated by the flames and his face kept out of the shot. He stands about a foot away from the window and freezes.
 
Voice: La Muerte has a way of making people out to be better than they actually were. You’ll hear of these three again, not as the ignorant street racers who sped one many times through their city, but as three directionless, young souls who didn’t ever get a chance at living. Some might even say that these three died doing what they loved—how noble it is to die doing what you love, like a sky diver crashing into the earth when his parachute doesn’t deploy or a hunter being shot by his own friend while they’re out hunting at dusk. People will warp these stories to fit their narrative and will make these people out to be heroes or victims or anything else, but they won’t say what they really are. They won’t admit that these are all just unfortunate accidents, or worse, that these people deserved to die because they were too stupid to prepare for the situation they’re delving into.  But worst of all, these people warp their own stories and make themselves out to be courageous—courageous for jumping out of a helicopter for fun, or for subjecting themselves to hunting in the dark while wearing camouflage, or racing in the streets with their thuggish friends. These people believe that they’re filled with valor, that they deserve recognition for scoffing at the conclusiveness that comes with death. But in reality, they’ve done nothing but warped their story and made themselves out to be some sort of forgotten hero that isn’t given any recognition until they ultimately screw up and get themselves killed.
 
That brings me to you, Mr. DEDEDE. Just as I’m sure you’ve always done, you’ve warped your story and made yourself out to be some sort of noble hero because you fight in a wrestling right once a week and fall on your ass a couple of times. You act like I should pity you because you’ve head neck injuries, back injuries, concussions, and a grocery list of other issues from a job that you’ve subjected yourself to. You act as though you should be recognized for “facing death”, talking as if you even know La Muerte—talking as if you know legitimate fear. You act as if having a chair smashed over your head and waking up with your back pressed to a wrestling mat is terrifying, as if realizing you’re laying in the back of an ambulance, being coddled by EMTs is some sort of petrifying experience. But that “fear” you felt, at its worst, may have been praying that La Muerte stays away, the feeling you probably felt laying beneath a collapsed elevator years ago, praying to whatever god you believe in that he won’t take you right then and there. But the kind of fear that I’ve experienced—the kind of fear that has morphed me into the product of my own elements that I am today—is rooted in praying that La Muerte takes me instead. I don’t think there has been a moment in your pathetic life, Mr. DEDEDE, where you have legitimately been shaken to the core to the point where you wished death upon yourself. You’ll equate that to being strong-willed, persevering; But the truth is that what you’ve gone through is nothing to even fear. I’ve had my skull cracked open. I’ve been crushed by objects and hit by cars. All of these experiences we might have shared, but you don’t know the fear of being blindfolded and gagged, told to take fifteen steps until your bare feet touch the water, unsure of where you’re even walking. You don’t know the fear of being forced into playing Russian roulette with three other prisoners in some dungeon in Argentina while your captors watch and laugh at you. You don’t know the fear of being left in a cage for months at a time, losing an understanding of who you are or where you come from, and being forced to watch as these captors bring in women who they claim are your mother or your sister or your daughter and violently rape them in front of you. You don’t have any idea how much I begged and pleaded for La Muerte to take me. It’s no cowardice. That’s human. THAT’S THE BREAKING OF A HUMAN SPIRIT.
 
The man in the suit kicks the window and shatters it with one swing of his foot. A woman’s charred hand falls out of the window and hits the pavement. The man crouches down and grabs her hand, brushing her ash-covered knuckles with his thumb and pulls away a ring from her finger. He clenches it in his hand and then brings it to his fingertips.
 
Voice: You’re confusing significant trauma—the trauma that has melded me into what I am today—with a stiff shoulder that you might have after two decades in the business. That’s one thing I won’t take away from you, Mr. DEDEDE; I won’t pretend that when it comes to this company, you aren’t one of the most decorated characters that has ever stepped into that ring. But frankly, that doesn’t matter here. Despite your warnings that you’re some sort of unknown force to me, despite the fact you say that watching tapes and studying your tendencies won’t help me, none of that even matters. Your successes have broken you down, worn you down to be a shell of the person you once were, and that’s why you tack yourself together with people that would otherwise be considered below your league. You’re not as good, not as healthy, not as innovative as you once were and it shows. You may have been able to handle new challenges and new unknowns years ago, but now you’re overpowered. The only thing that you have going for you, in your positivity-laden mind, is that you’ve stopped the unstoppable before, so why can’t you do it now? But what you’ve stopped before were your everyday men brought up into this wrestling business or thrown into all of this because they couldn’t make their college football team or failed a career in the UFC and thought what better way to use their limited talents than by coming to this company to fight. They fight for anger. They fight for money. They fight to be recognized. But I fight because this is what La Muerte has of me. I fight because La Muerte taunts me with her solace and forces me to grant that solace to those poor souls who won’t accept her. Don’t dare reject the coming of La Muerte when she offers you her hand. If you reject her offer, you don’t know fear or suffering. You don’t know anything at all. Learn from her. Let her teach you.
 
To rise, first you must burn.

The man begins walking away slowly, moving further and further away from the flames until he sinks into the darkness and bends around the corner. He only turns back to toss the ring back towards the wreckage. The camera focuses in on the ring rolling across the dark pavement. As soon as the man bends around the corner, police, firefighters, and ambulances screech around the same corner to the crime scene, finding no survivors.

a mitchell street blog.


Criminal. The definition of a criminal act is not what you think might imagine. The definition is in fact placing Mitchell Street in a tag team match against his will. Now that…..is criminal. For those of you who do yourself the favor of reading this every week, I must sound like a broken record. I have told you for weeks on end just how corrupt this place truly is but no one will listen. I have heard all of the excuses….”Mitchell Street is a whiner”, “He’s a cry baby”. Trust me; I can understand your reasoning because many of you do not know the depth of the situation. All you see, is what they want you to see. What you will never truly understand if you haven’t already wrapped your mind around it, is the criminal nonsense they feed you. Personally I have never seen a company from top to bottom manipulate an audience and their employees as well as they do in EAW. We’ve all been around manipulative people. The people that always find a way to get what they want and the same people who always weasel their way out of any trouble they may have found. This is the true definition of a criminal. This is a the true definition of Extreme Answers Wrestling management.

Let’s take a real quick trip down memory lane. The scene is set, Monday Night Battleground, approximately one week ago. I spoke to you all in advance and explained that Taylor Cassidy had simply been placed in a spot he didn’t deserve. Not because of ability, but because he had done nothing wrong. He did not deserve to be placed in a match against Mitchell Street. He did not deserve to be brutalized. Yet am I to blame? Absolutely not. Extreme Answers Wrestling…..you criminals are to blame. You never gave that young man a chance and why? Let’s continue on though, to the very next night. Yes, you read that correctly, the VERY next night. A special edition of Tuesday Night Showdown where once again I was forced to compete. This time, it was poor Thomas Minns. Once again, I did not hide and I told you all exactly what was going to happen. I walked down to that very ring and I single handedly picked apart Thomas Minns. I outworked, outclassed and outwrestled Thomas Minns to once again raise my hand in victory. Thomas Minns took a wrong turn….as I said he would but was I to blame? Absolutely not. Extreme Answers Wrestling…….you criminals are to blame once again.

For weeks you have thrown innocent bystanders in my way and for what? Not only are you starving me of my OPPORTUNITY you are sacrificing these men. However I have come to expect nothing less from such a corrupt and deceiving organization. You have lied to me to the point of no return but I am beginning what I must do to receive a chance? I have beaten EVERYBODY YOU HAVE PLACED IN FRONT OF ME . If you doubt my words, take a second and put some thought into when I have been pinned. You will find nothing. I have told you before that while many of you out there may not like me and some may even despise me but I have never lied to you. This is no exception as I have NEVER been pinned. Yet again I pose a question to you EAW Management….where is my opportunity. Countless men have come and lost but only to receive a push up the card. Men who are in no way shape or form….like Brett Kennedy for example have been fed with a golden spoon. I defeated him TWICE and yet he was crowned the New Number One Contender. So I ask you once more….. WHERE IS MY OPPORTUNITY. What will it take for me to receive my shot? What will it take for me to be viewed as the PRIZE FIGHTER I am!

Maybe this would be my week? Think again. This Sunday Night I am being forced to walk down to that ring with a partner? I will get to that in a moment. For now, I speak to my opponents. Mr. Minns you are persistent I will give you that. Many have failed before you and they have all vanished into the darkness but you have returned. For that I applaud you. But for that…I also shame the higher powers that forced your return to face me. You should not have to suffer anymore; your time to move on is now. You couldn’t get it done and that is fine, again….you are not alone. There is no reason for you to come back and face that hollow feeling again. You have a promising career ahead of you and all you had to do was ride off into the sunset….but you came back. For that Thomas, you have angered me. I have so many important things on my plate that I do not need a thorn to continuously poke me. So this Sunday Night Thomas, once and for all, I will put you in your place. After this Sunday Night Thomas, I will finally be rid of you and you will be able to continue on. One word of advice though Thomas….this ego you possess that forces you to try your luck again will get you hurt. Everybody wants to be the one to slay the giant….BUT IT IS NOT GOING TO BE YOU THOMAS.

Now Mr. Samurai is it…..I speak directly to you. I have been a close follower of your work. I have always respected others who have walked a similar path to me and you are not to different. You are a veteran of this business and for that you should be treated as such. However there is one thing I can assure you…..YOU HAVE NEVER WRESTLED ANYBODY LIKE ME. I heard what you have had to say during the week and I am slightly confused. For one, I do not need your approval. I have never needed anyone’s approval my whole career. Secondly I do not need your sob story. You too found your feet in Japan and I am happy for you. That does not give you any right to compare you to me. Yes you are a veteran of this business as I have already stated. But what have you actually achieved? When you walk away from this company and ride off into whatever you please, will you be remembered? This time next week, I will officially be the Top Prospect this company has. Soon after….I will take the OPPORTUNITY I was promised and I will prove to the world I am the PRIZE FIGHTER I claim to be. That is how you get remembered Samurai, not being staying past your expiry date. This Sunday Night Samurai, you will become another chapter to the rise of Mitchell Street. I promise you Samurai, I will make sure you are remembered. For that I require no thanks, I instead want you to listen to my advice. Be careful to follow your path because you never know when you may take a WRONG TURN!

this has been a mitchell street blog.

(Scott Oasis and Grace are seen sitting next to Derek Douglas on the set of an interview.)

Derek Douglas: Hello EAW Faithful, thank you for joining me on EAWrestling.com for an exclusive interview. This week my guests at this time are Scott Oasis and his girlfriend as well as manager, Grace! I have been looking forward to this interview for weeks! I have a lot of questions and we don't have a lot of time so how about we jump right into this. Grace, your client Scott Oasis is only a week away from competing with Team EAW in the main event of Territorial Invasion: Civil War. How do you feel about his successes?

Grace: Isn't it obvious? I'm extremely proud of how far he has come and I for one think it was about damn time that Scott got the spotlight he deserved. He's been busting his ass and outperforming half the roster since the day he stepped through the door. Matter of fact, anything he puts his mind to he has dominated and finally others have opened their eyes to what I've known for years and that is not putting Scott Oasis in the main event is like leaving money on the table. This gives Zack Crash a chance to not only keep his company safe but to usher in a new era. This isn't just some short term success this is the beginning of a legacy.

Derek Douglas: That actually brings me to my next question which is aimed towards Scott Oasis. Words like "Legacy" and "New Era" are words that seem to have been running through your mind a lot lately but what I am wondering is why is all of this so important to you?

Scott Oasis: I'm genuinely surprised you'd ask something like that, aren't those two words what make a Hall Of Fame caliber wrestler? People talk about putting on great matches and like being considered premiere athletes but the thing is so many good talents come and go. There have been hundreds of phenomenal competitors yet if I were asked to list them, only a select few actually come to mind while the rest just fade away and are never mentioned again. You could put on five star matches everyday for the rest of your life but it doesn't matter if nobody gives a shit once you're gone. I was just like those happy go lucky scrubs who were just happy to be here but after you've done everything I've done and have probably taken years off of your life to compete there's a point where you start to want something in return. After everything I've invested in this place I won't just let my effort be under minded and plan on leaving my mark.

Derek Douglas: Well, how exactly do you plan on putting all of your plans into action and starting this resurgence though?

Scott Oasis: The plan is to start this resurgence as early as next week with TI. These Dynasty Wrestling guys are just taking away attention from much more important, quality athletes so the way I see it can kill two birds with one stone. I help stop that asinine revolution and cement myself as a true legend by being on the team that ended one of the longest running entities in professional wrestling.

Derek Douglas: We've heard a lot about next week, what about this week, I know you're competing this weekend so I'm curious to know what your thoughts are on that?

Scott Oasis: Hmm. As I'm sure most of you know It I’ll be pulling double duty this week. For a lot of Elitists, being overworked like that is stressful but it’s really no big deal to me because it only helps me in accomplishing my goal. I am heading into this week with a purpose and that is to continue to represent EAW and do my team proud.  This weekend I plan on taking us into Territorial Invasion looking strong, first I’m going to annihilate Lucian Black on Dynasty and then I’m going to move on to Voltage and take care of EAW’s newest water cooler topic, the self proclaimed “Undisputed King of the Ring” Samuel King. When I was told about who I was going to be facing I was not sweating it in the slightest, he's really just another flavor of the month meathead. Yeah I get it, he destroyed some nobody fast so I'm supposed to be worried, any wrestler worth his salt can take out a tomato can but only a true Elitist can knock off someone legitimate. You know, this match actually makes me nostalgic of my first few months. All of those prospects walking around so full of themselves, not knowing I would be there to keep them in line. That's the perfect way to describe this weekend, me keeping a bunch of punks in line.

Derek Douglas: Well you certainly seem confident heading into this and I can't exactly blame you. Thank you for accepting this invitation, once again I am Derek Douglas and this has been another EAW digital original.

"THE CINEMATIC VIRTUE."

Do you all believe that I am genuinely ignorant? That I have no intelligence whatsoever, nor talent? Are each and every single one of you going to dance around my name again, believing that I'm not a threat to your bout to become Empress of Elite? I mean, really? Each and every single one of you, even Maddie, are acting like stuck up, brainwashed fools. Every time someone hears my name, they just continue to ignore it. Is it because you're scared of me, or is it because you don't believe that I could snatch your dreams from you within a second? You all continue to underestimate me, but at the end of the day, this is just a fight to the finish that I WILL complete. I am the Miami Made Vixen, THE Miami Made Monarch...I AM Maria Gonzales. Nobody in this company can compare to me, nor will they ever. You all can laugh at me, you all can scream 'GO MADDIE' or 'GO ARIA' all day long, but it's only showing your ass to the world, proving how ignorant you are that you haven't gotten on the correct team. I mean, c'mon...Aria Jaxon? Really?

I mean, Aria, you've continued to "impress" the nation as you continue to beat most of the Vixen's who step in the ring with you. But let's be honest here, you took advantage of me and you knew I wasn't on my A Game. Where was my respect? The same goes to you, Ariana! Your "Latin Love" bullshit hasn't passed me, nor you goody two shoes persona. I see through both of you, how you both are evil, ruthless, ignorant attention seekers who present nothing to the table. Let me ask you this; who started the Vixen's match as PFP? Who put Tarah Nova on her back and would have defeated her if it wasn't for you scissor sister, Ariana? WHO defeated Tarah Nova last week CLEAN unlike you dolls? ME. It wasn't Lumen Gray, it wasn't any of you! It's always been Maria Gonzales, the girl who does the work but never gets the god damn credit; well this time, I'm taking what's mine, and that's by becoming the first Empress of Elite. I have worked non stop ever since the tournament began, and no losses nor wins stopped me. I go into the gym, I train inside a ring HARDER than I did the last time while you all left in the tournament sip on your freshly made margaritas, just happy that you even made it this far. But me? I don't stop when I come this far. I'm fighting tooth and nail for this, I'm only speeding up while you all are getting started. I've beat Lumen Gray before, so I know that she is easily rid of. Morally undefeated or not, I AM the next Empress of Elite, I AM the next Vixen's champion; and nobody, especially not my next opponent Erica Ford, will stop me.

You thought I forgot about you, didn't ya? Of course I didn't forget about our residential pip squeak! You're just the cutest, saddest excuse of a vixen I've ever seen, you know that? How could you ever line up against someone like me, such high royalty? I mean, c'mon kid, we both know how this is going to end. You couldn't even make it to where I am, so why would you think you could beat me? You couldn't beat anyone else, could you? Me on the other hand; I've dominated my competition. Lose or win. Now I move on to you, and in order to win the tournament, I gotta make you submit; and how easy will that be! Maybe I'll make you tap to the Miami Vice; or maybe, I'll throw a curve ball towards you...maybe an octopus hold, maybe a Boston crab! Any and every submission move than I know WILL be thrown at you. I am going to make you tap, over and over again until your body just can't handle the torture that I'm providing, Erica. I am the woman to beat, I AM the Vixen you want to be. Your career? It's nothing but pure bullshit prepared to be wiped away by ME. Maria Gonzales. You, Erica, are nothing. You've lost most of your matches and most importantly, you've showed everyone what I said from day one; you are a waste of time and oxygen on this earth. Maybe when I beat you I'll restore all of the air you sucked in and practically wasted.

I'm wasting my time on you, Erica; so let me make this clear. On Sunday, I am going to put you in the most gut-wrenched submission hold you have ever felt. You are going to succumb to my power, my pure beauty of a wrestler. I will take my points and I will go on to win Empress of Elite; because I know that any of the Vixen's left can't do it. You are the final victim, the one I leave the largest bruise with; and I can promise you something, Erica; it's that after I'm done with you, you are going to be injured, just like your little pixie fairy friend Aurora. I put her in her place, and I have no problem putting you in yours. It's time to silence your trap and move on once and for all. So run your mouth, try to get the last word in, but at the end of the day, I'm the winner no matter what bullshit these Vixen's are going to pull. I am the woman on top, and the woman YOU won't beat!

As for the rest of you; you're not safe. None of you are, not even Maddie. I'm going to do everything and anything to make it far in this tournament. This is a solo competition, ladies, and I have no problem showing why I'm the number 1 on top. The Vixen's are not me, NEVER will be me, no matter how hard they try.

I hope you all are simply prepared for the fucking beating I'm about to unleash on anyone who gets in my way. 

[The scene takes us to the desk of an office where two men interact, one apparently the manager and the other vaguely resembling Y2Impact but wearing glasses and styling his hair different than usual, evidently one of many aspiring employees. The manager glances over his resume]

Manager: None of your previous qualifications pertain to this field of work in the slightest, sir. Not only that, but the only thing listed under your credentials was "integrity" which, though admirable, is totally inadmissible. You can't list some arbitrarily defined quality on your resume and expect to be taken seriously. What were you thinking? Get out of here.

Y2Impact: MY INTEGRITY, DAMN IT! WHO ARE YOU TO TELL ME INTEGRITY DOESN'T MATTER? YOU KNOW, I THINK IF THE WORLD HAD MORE WORKING MEN -- MEN OF TRUE CHARACTER AND CLASS -- JOB DESCRIPTION AND SPECIAL SKILLS WOULDN'T MATTER!

[An exasperated, humorously irate Y2Impact continues rambling until he clutches the throat of the manager in staged frustration]

Y2Impact: I HAVE SHOWN YOU MY PASSION! AND NOW THAT YOU'VE BEEN MADE A WITNESS, YOU'RE GOING TO GIVE ME THIS JOB... RIGHT?

Manager: SECURITY! SECURITY!

[Y2Impact is forcibly escorted out of the building by security, staging resistance. He hands each of them a $100 bill for their compliance in his ruse, takes off the glasses, fixes his hair, and walks into his limousine telling the driver something inaudible]

Sometimes imitation isn't the sincerest form of flattery, but the easiest way to convey a message. In the real world, claiming you have integrity doesn't matter, and evidenced by all the abject failures Catterson has suffered through for the better portion of the last two years, its irrelevance is par for the course inside the squared circle, too. You can repeatedly tell yourself that you're the best hitter in the world, a guy who swings for the fences and more often than not knocks the ball straight out of the park. People like Liam blur the lines between reality and fiction when it comes to convincing themselves they're something greater than what they actually are, or if not that, someone with strong moral fiber who upholds values generally considered to be honorable. Praying you'll become a star in the NFL isn't going to make you Barry Sanders, just like falling back on your decency and humanity won't suddenly transform you into Martin Luther King. Liam Catterson is a wrestler who hasn't quite found his niche, and to excuse his futility, he's shot right back at me with hollow and baseless accusations about my alleged lack of integrity and his abundance of the same quality. He just can't accept his mediocrity, and in his seemingly never-ending quest to become great, he's made statements and promises he can't possibly follow through with. I've never been one to mince words; the real issue here is that for a man of self-proclaimed integrity, I took exception to the fact you'd question mine simply because I stole Aren Mstislav's hard-earned Pure Championship when it was only two years prior that you proudly raised your newly won Answers World Championship on the back of the blood-drenched failures from Jon Kelton and Eddie Mack, even needing Mr. DEDEDE to put the nail in my coffin and spear me just for the sake of getting that pinfall and not letting your opportunity go to waste. I have no qualms about you doing that, but I'd first and foremost like to remind you of how starkly these circumstances contrast. Despite possession being the all-importance factor in regards to who truly owns an item or valuable, EAW doesn't officially recognize me as the Pure Champion. It's still a figurative title owned by Aren Mstislav; there's just no literal embodiment since he became victim to my plot and I stole his championship from him. I'm already hearing from EAW's investors that the Pure Championship is now viewed as an infinitely more coveted and revered title based exclusively on its newfound association with me, so if Aren's misfortune ever steers itself in a more favorable direction, he can personally thank me for making his otherwise worthless championship stand out, for bringing recognition to his career and turning the spotlight on him. The parallels between my "loss" to Liam Catterson from two years ago and the ambush that resulted in me claiming Aren's Pure Title as my own are nonexistent. If he wants to pat himself on the back and pretend otherwise for the sake of maintaining a shred of his withering self-esteem, I don't mind; depression is a scary disorder, after all.

What I won't tolerate is a blatant misrepresentation of facts where it concerns my own career. I considered getting on the phone with my lawyers and having a brief discussion about slapping a defamation of character lawsuit on Catterson, but I had a short epiphany and it made me realize I'd much rather settle this dispute inside the ring. There, I can get creative and maim Catterson's body in as many ways as I choose without worrying about having to go to court for assault. It's my favorite playground in the whole world! The squared circle, where you can rob the opposition of their pride and dignity as well as their championships and sometimes even their careers. The people hate me, mock me, ridicule me, disrespect me... Not because of my skill as a competitor, but because it's difficult to cope with change! It wasn't long ago that I was considered a company man, one of EAW's favorite go-to guys. For many, I've turned their entire world upside down and they're struggling to reconcile the fact that I'm not the wrestler they pegged me as. I'm an artist of warfare that longs to cause chaos and spread mayhem like an infectious disease that's become an epidemic all throughout the world. I'm not some yes-man in a suit who's content to bark orders, I'm not an injury-riddled old-timer who the brass can just force to call a career and retire against his will. I rehabbed, I put my time in and I strained my body to its very limit just for the sake of returning and coming back to grace the world with a rejuvenated Quintessential Champion -- and then I became The Four-Quadrant Killer! Sometimes life hits you hard and it hits you fast with events you're ill-prepared to account for. My state of affairs from my return four months ago up until now have been such an occasion. The movement wasn't even a figment of my imagination until a little over two months ago, and now it's spreading like wildfire such that not even EAW's most formidable and fearsome combatants can halt its steadfast path of violence. This has become a war of attrition, in a survival of the fittest landscape where only the most violent and ruthless escape standing, I love Hexa-gun's chances.

[The black limousine stops and Y2Impact walks out of his ride at a hotel nearby the location of the Dunkin' Donuts Center in Providence, Rhode Island, where the next edition of Voltage is located. He exchanges pleasantries with his long-time driver, Bruce, before making his way into the hotel, murmuring one last statement before his recording concludes...]

Y2Impact: I'll be seeing both of you shortly. If EAW's fans are lucky, it'll be the last they see of your ugly mugs... But I'm guessing they won't be so fortunate.

[Exit scene]

VOLTAGE PR0M0 #1
 

Dr. Erik Vance:  Now do you all see?  Do you believe me now when I tell you that Mr. Brody has a higher purpose when he steps into that ring?  Do you understand that wins and loses do not matter anymore?  The only thing that matters to Mr. Brody is to prove a point.  That point being that Mr. Brody is a dominate, vicious, blood thirsty, Mad Beast of a man, and that any competitor who steps into that ring had better be prepared for a world of hurt.  It’s all part of my new therapy program with Mr. Brody.  I often tell my patients who are stuck in negative situations to turn that negative into an even better positive.  Mr. Brody was trapped under all your expectations and your intolerant scrutiny ever time he lost a match.  And for a while he let that get to him.  But then I transformed him into something better.  I told him if he didn’t want those loses to hurt, then he was going to have to learn to not care about them.  In fact, take those loses…and turn them into messages!  And that’s now what he’s been doing.  And so for the first time, Mr. Brody lost a match, yet I don’t hear any negativity being flung at him.  Because you all know he may have lost on the record books, but we all know who truly was the winner in that match.  Mr. Brody was the winner in both spirit and action!  He gave that win to Hades and Mr. Oasis, and he took down a EAW Hall Of Famer!  If that isn’t a win in this business, I don’t know what is.  And speaking of that “Hall Of Famer”, I believe it’s time I addressed that man, Hurricane Hawk, as he’s unfortunate enough to have a match against Mr. Brody this week.  First I’d just like to say that you, Mr. Hawk, have no right to be upset with my patient!  You brought everything that happened last week down upon yourself.! You thought you could retaliate against Mr. Brody and get away with it?  You deliberately attacked Mr. Brody, and like all bullies you didn’t believe he would stand up for himself.  Oh you can call it an “accident” if you want, but that’s simply your excuse to try and make yourself look like the victim to garner sympathy.  Because it certainly wasn’t my patient who was the victim that night.  No…he was a beast!  You attacked him, and in spectacular fashion, he put you on your back where you belong.  And in doing so, he also proved his point that wins and loses mean nothing to Brody now.  All that matters is the absolute destruction of all those who have ever wronged him.  A list you can now happily add your name to.  It was first added when you thought you’d be a hero and save Mr. Daniels from Brody’s wrath.  You tried to put him back in your shadow last week when you attacked him, hoping you might be able to steal the win and the spotlight for yourself.  Well if Mr. Brody can’t have the spotlight…then nobody can!  So this match isn’t about spotlights or beating up a legend who has gone far past his expiration date.  It’s about destruction!  It’s about causing you so much pain to where you’ll laugh instead of cry, just so that you can keep your sanity!  It’s about watching the blood flow out of every orifice you have until you’re more red than white!  It’s about listening to all the cries of the audience screaming for him to stop, for mercy, because their lust for violence can’t take it anymore!  It’s about informing EVERYONE in the EAW locker room who’s really in charge!  It ain’t Zack Crash and it ain’t John Conning.  It’s Mr. Brody!!!  You can’t control him and you can’t order him around!  He does what he wants when he wants, all at my behest.  So I highly recommend you stop making him the joke of EAW, because this joke is no longer funny.  In fact, I’d dare say it has gotten deadly serious!  First Mr. Brody took out Brian Daniels, and the laughing stopped.  I wonder what’ll happen when Hurricane Hawk, Mr. Daniels supposed savior and a second Hall Of Famer, falls next!  I guess we’ll just have to wait and find out won’t we?   

(The camera opens on PB wailing away at a speed bag with no form or technique to his attack, only the speed of sloppy punches fueled by anger and passion.)

PB:I've been handed everything? The guy on Hades personal shit list? The kid who got thrown in a ring with the Vixen's champion with every odd stacked against him? The guy who fought a fan? Get your history book out, Samurai, and erase all of the facts you've tried to scribble out about my career.  I was handed no brass ring.  I'm the side show freak who proved he was more than a joke and a pizza endorsement.  If I've been thrown any brass rings, they were designed to sink me into the depths of mediocrity.  But you know something? I kept winning.  I kept fighting against the odds.  I kept swinging away at everything they put in my path.  I kept training, I kept busting my ass, I kept eating concussions for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, until I thought at least people that mattered had a modicum of respect for me.  And they do, MX.

(PB's pace speeds up on the bag.  His sloppy punches become more well formed and fluid as he continues to pummel away in anger.)

PB: But then there are the guys like you who continue to want to drag me down as some sort of leap frogging lackey to the front office.  Guys like you whom, for the life of me I can't figure out why, are jealous of me.  You little social justice keyboard warriors with your hashtags and tumblr accounts who think you can change the world by spitting out repetitive rhetoric on what's wrong with the business.  You call me passive aggressive? I fight my battles.  I live and die by them.  You? You come down with nintendo thumb and think that you've somehow earned your stripes.  You think I'm some sort of do nothing because I don't step out of turn? You think I'm some sort of wimp because I don't buck up to people in fights that aren't mine to fight? Because I do my job to the best of my abilities and let the other scum, scum like you, take the pot shots? And then you question my work ethic? HAH!

(PB full force breaks his rhythm on the speed bag with a flush headbutt, sending the bag off of it's hook and colliding into the wall.  He turns to the camera with a bemused smile on his face.)

PB: You're no samurai.  You're just a yuppie.  Your hands don't know callouses, your stomach doesn't know what it means to be hungry, and yet you parade around your latest cause as if it's something you've worked for, starved for, strived for.  That's your biggest problem, Samurai...no, I wont call you Samurai.  From now on, you're the Mexican Millenial. Your biggest problem is that you don't know what it is to be hungry.  Me? I starve for the chance to be the next big thing.  I wasn't brought into this business with experience, a perfect body, height, or a mixed martial arts background.  I was literally plucked off a doorstep like some orphan of the wrestling industry.  And it's been a hard knock year for me, and each day tomorrow draws closer and closer, but it still hasn't came for this raggid little orphan Andy.  People keep promising me that the love and respect of the locker room is only a match away, and yet here we are.  

(PB picks up the speed bag off of the floor and hangs it back on it's hook.  He gives it a gentle overhand shot and then steadies it, studies it a second, and then turns back to the camera.)

PB: Since starting here I've lost ten pounds of fat and replaced it with muscle.  I've perfected a bulldog that remains the most lethal in the business.  I've taken Jamie O'Hara to draws, beaten Hades twice, pinned Tarah Nova without having to resort to hitting her and pissing her off, I've fallen from a ladder, taken blunt objects to the head, been choked out more than once my my trainer, and fed into countless other lions dens, only to come out the other end alive with some faded glory and little more than a joke opportunity or two to keep me going.  You think my life's all paradise and cheesy pies? You're wrong.  The only brass ring I've seen were the two discolored black eyes in the mirror after taking a ladder to the face.  I've spit blood, I've bled blood, and I've peed blood.  You wouldn't believe the orifaces, both god made and man made that blood has came out of on me, Millenial.  I've scraped my way from the bottom, and make no mistake, I'm still there.  But sometimes...sometimes a little sunlight breaks through that cloudy glass ceiling canopy  that confirms to me that tomorrow, my tomorrow, my lovely tomorrow, is only a day away.  But yours? Well, you can't see too much daybreak when you're chattering away on the keyboard deep inside your mommy's basement.  But don't worry, sensei of the insincere.  I'll give you a honest day's work.

(PB spins around with deceptive agility and sole butts the speed bag off of it's perch.  He stares at the hook, a bit surprised at himself, and then smirks back at the camera in disbelief.)

PB: And we'll see if I can do that again.

(The camera fades to black on PB chuckling at his new found agility)

Empress of Elite Round 7 Promo 1

The Camera pans opens up on Lumen dressed in yellow and pink pyjamas sat on her sofa with her dog Margot sat next to her.

So far I think my record here in EAW speaks for itself. On my first night in the company I defeated the competition to earn my rightful spot in the Empress of Elite Tournament. The next time I stepped in a ring I was robbed by cheating, I was robbed by moral corruption… the next time I was robbed by my own morality and the fact I am not going to lay down and think of England like some girls do around these parts, or whatever backend of nowhere hick place they come from… But after that moment I realised that I was not going to let these crimes spoil the bright career of the morally undefeated vixen. Since then I have proven in every match that I am untouchable and that I simply cannot be beaten... cleanly.

Alexis after I carried you to victory in our tag match you decided to repay your gratitude by slapping me in the face, do not think I have forgotten that and do not think I will have forgotten you when I am the Empress of Elite. All Empresses have subordinates that need to be dealt with and you will be first on my list. 

So here we are round 7 and the only thing that stand between me and being the top of group B is the simple matter of you Miss Lopez. You see I enjoy being creative, so many of the Vixens here in EAW either skulk in the shadows or shake their klunge around in the clubs but I am a breath of fresh air, a breath of light you might say. You say you want me to be myself… well this is it… this is the Lilyanna Lumen Gray that excelled at school and quelled any rivals. Something tells me Miss Lopez that you are simply over compensating for trying to convince yourself that you aren't really that Bimbo that you claim you “used to be”.

You see Miss Lopez in my life I have had a long line of bimbos trying to get one up on me, to try and bring me down and raise themselves up by default and that really is what is happening here. You realise that you cannot compete with me as either a wrestler or a human being… You question my promo skills and say I am fake well this is me talking and unlike you I do not intend to go on….. and on….. and on…. And on….

Camera fades to black  “SOME TIME LATER” appears on the screen. Camera fades back in.

and on….. and on…. And on….

But let’s be positive after all that is what you have admittedly brought to the table, a quality which is so sorely lacking in this company. After all with a situation such as yours you are so brave infact to be so positive… good for you (Lumen smiles and gives a thumbs up)

But let’s bring this back for a second. One Sunday in order to cement my place as the top Vixen in our group I need to make you submit. Not just win…. I need to make you, in the middle of the ring, with tears streaming down your face at the realisation that you just haven’t quite made it… again… say “I quit.” Why not ask Katie Rotten how she felt when she was in the centre of the ring tears streaming down her face with the Lightwell locked in, probably pee leaking into her pants when she realised she just could not cope any longer.

Its fine there will be no shame in losing to me, in fact losing to someone like me is positively not all bad… I mean this could very well be a Vixens match of the year and wouldn't you like to be involved in that? Even if you lose?

So remember Miss Lopez there is no shame in losing to the best and it will only make you better. I am sure after the match if you come and fine me in the back we can have some laughs but until then I have my sights set on your arm and for my coronation to be a success it needs to be broken.
Don’t worry though we have some fantastic orthopaedic surgeons back in London where we actually have healthcare so I am sure a quick flight over the pond and you will be right as rain… and of course you can’t actually stay with me but I am sure we can find a hotel vaguely nearby… the Soho red light district always has beds for girls like you anyway.

No hard feelings?

Hugs?

Lumen reaches over picks up Margot and starts hugging and playing with her on the sofa totally ignoring the camera.

Camera fades to back.

The ho-hum, mediocrity of opposition I've had to face in the last couple of weeks is destroying any sense of desire that I have for succeeding in this industry.  There comes a time and a place when one must stop what they are doing if they realize that they aren't going anywhere, because they are expending energy that can go towards something more productive. I admit that I was jaded by all the false promises that EAW laid before me; they had instilled the ideas that I could be a major player within the organization and make a real impact. Yet, I sit here and ponder why I'm in still in the same place that I've been sitting at ever since I've debuted in Showdown.  Can't you see it, Pizza Boy?  Do you not see the fact that both of us are going to be left out of Territorial Invasion?  Don't you see that this is a giant problem within this business?  The hand-picked successors will always make the leaps and bounds towards fame and glory rather than people who work hard to achieve their status, because opportunity is given rather than earned.  There are people like Brett Kennedy, who...even after losing...are instantly being promoted to one of the top two matches on the Free Per View and yet, we are going to sit out and be forced to watch on the couch.   We might as well be given "Participations Ribbons" and a giant ol' pat on the back, because we did good but not good enough.  Hehe....hehehehaha.

Typical...

I had to make an example out of you, Pizza Boy.  You go around and show your "passion" every single night that you go out and you ACTUALLY think that you did everything via "hard work" and "determination". We all know the truth, though. You are nothing but a man who has been given the luck of the draw throughout your entire career.   Was I given a match against the World Champion during my debut at Showdown?  Hell no! Do you really think that EAW would have enough faith to put me at the very top during my debut?  Why are you given the opportunity of a lifetime and, as such, are gifted a win by Jamie O'Hara!? YOU EVEN GET YOUR OWN SPECIAL ENTRANCE AT PAIN FOR PRIDE!?  

I have to calm down...I need to relax...because....well, because....I shouldn't care anymore.

I'm not surprised that this is how things are running here in EAW, because I knew that I would have to climb the mountain while people like Pizza Boy is given the golden escalator to the same position that I’m aiming for.  Blue Collar?  You're nothing but a coward who couldn't be the one who spit in the food of a person who was mistreating you, instead you rely on others to step up and do the deeds that you're too afraid to do.  Instead of voicing your displeasure, you are nothing more than an annoying passive-aggressive note that is left hanging on a car that parked wrong.  You are a delivery of disappointment with an extra slice of false pretentious hope.  I'd rather eat Little Caesar's than trying to swallow the drivel that is coming out of your mouth because if it was me?  I would of cooked the Meat Lover's pizza, and I would of walked over to her table and greeted her with a great big pie directly in her face.  I would of threw some middle fingers around the room before I took off my shirt and threw it at my boss.  I'm the kind of man who knows when he is working in a toxic environment which is the reason why I'm no longer working to be the best.  I simply want to be paid so that I can go home to a loving family.  Yet, somehow Pizza Boy suddenly thinks that he is the little scrappy doo who has had to work all his life in order to get to where he is at?  Give me a break.  I'm sure that you still act chirpy and force a smile when you're being raped in the asshole like a good little stooge.

Your false hope is going to portray and image that anyone can step into the squared circle and become successful.  This isn't the American Dream and this business will tear people down into uncontrollable depths of depression and sadness.  The common man must go and get an education rather than struggle with a minimum wage job and decide to get into something so risky and without health benefits.  It's sickening and disgusting for anyone who has had to work under harsh conditions without a sense of recognition from their boss. No raise, no bonuses, no commissions.  Still stuck in the same old factory, risking life and limb to produce the items that you flaunt to the ring.  

It's a shame that no one will see our little feud that's been building up because we do deserve for this match up to be produced on the big stage.  They won't pull the trigger though, because they think that you and I are nothing but lower card talent who are simply there to fill out the rest of the card every week.   We might be the main event of Battleground at some point because we simply are not relevant enough to be on a FPV card.  You really think that you'll be going in a progressive direction after we are done?  Not if no one sees it, which is a real shame because I would love to defeat you in front of as many people as possible.

Pizza Boy, we share a lot of commonalities that have come to fruition within the last couple of weeks. There's a storm brewing with the hierarchy of what is established and who holds the future of the company in their hands.  Our destinies keep being intertwined as if someone is holding the strings and making us eliminate each other instead of coming together in order to alleviate the problems that we are all facing.  Mitchell Street feels EXACTLY the same way that I do, and he knows that something fishy is happening to the talent on Showdown and why we are being pushed aside for the returning veterans who have yet to prove themselves since they came back.  Name value is starting to overturn talent and it's simple to see that we will never have the name value of someone like a Kevin Devastation and Hurricane Hawk.  Two talents who are right back in the scene of things even when they go on a hiatus.  

My attacks on you were much more than simply making a statement.  I'm trying to reach out for you, in order to let everyone know that we are all talents that deserve respect.  I'm tired...I'm sick of the fighting...and I won't do it anymore unless we finally get treated equally.

Mitchell is a prize fighter and, every single week, I see him go out and bust his ass for the opportunity to become a contender...to become someone.  We have very similar backgrounds but I'm not going to respect your history Mitchell Street.  I was born to illegal immigrants and I fled to Japan without a cent in my pocket in order to train in the most elite dojos.  Street, going around and stating all the countries you trained in is never going to impress me because everyone struggles to get somewhere, but I'm excited that you acknowledge that the system is fucked up around here.  It's a shame that I'm going to have to destroy you because you are in the way of my win purse and the money that fuels me to come in and do my job. Congrats though, Mitchell. You are going to be on the pre-show, but Minns, Pizza Boy and myself HAVE NO FUCKING SPOT ON THE CARD.   You should be celebrating, you little shit.  The opportunity that you say you lack is staring at you right in the face and you continue to sulk, whine, and moan that it is not there. Ignorance coming from a kid who doesn't know everything that's been laid out for him.

Then again, you might be right, Mr. Street. There is no "big league" for us, there is nothing but a space where we fight like baboons while people throw peanuts.   We shouldn't be wrestling, we should be uprising against the status quo; going on a strike in order to show that we matter. 

#Wrestlinglivesmatter
#StandwithSamurai
#GiveUsAChance 

Minns doesn't let the losses get to him because he knows that wins and losses don't matter, simply because we are never going to go anywhere.  I respect him for that but this requires existential thinking, we need to go past the action of the squared circle and look into the social quandaries of professional wrestling.   

WE ARE THE ONES IN CONTROL OF OUR DESTINY.  PIZZA BOY... MINNS.... MITCHELL STREET.  WE HAVE THE OPPORTUNITY TO MAKE OUR VOICES HEARD, ESPECIALLY IN AN ERA OF OVER-SATURATED OPINIONS.  WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO?  WHAT IS YOUR POINT?  OR DO YOU WANT TO CONTINUE TO CHASE AFTER THE SO-CALLED "OPPORTUNITY" WHILE YOU FLIP FLOP BETWEEN BRANDS AND ARE NOTHING MORE THAN PAWNS IN THE HANDS OF JAMES SHIELD AND ZACK CRASH?  
I can't quit because they have control of me.  

All I can do is not care ...because it hurts too much when I do.....

It never ceases to amaze me what farfetched idle threats these so-called "elitists" fabricate when they've been caught off their guard and their charade has been exposed in front of a national audience. This past week on Voltage, Aren walked down the aisle and he expressed his feelings on this situation, he aired his grievances, and he made damn sure he didn't let all of his adoring fans down by lying to millions of people and claiming he'd go through each Hexa-gun member if that meant regaining the Pure Championship I robbed him of. In his heart of hearts, Aren knows full well he isn't capable of accomplishing that on his own. He's not Rambo, he's not a mythical superhero who's suddenly going to sprout wings and fly away with his championship while casting a glimmer of light on the evildoers that wronged him. Aren Mstislav is merely a man, and sometimes I even question his worthiness of that title, but the central theme around all the happenings recently roars like a hungry, malevolent lion on the verge of eating his prey -- Mstislav is vulnerable and I have repeatedly exposed his mortality. I've shed light on his weaknesses and I've given his opposition a scouting report on how to defeat him, on what the appropriate manner of handling your endeavors with Mstislav is. The most optimal route for success is to challenge him, to deprive him of the prize he worked so painstakingly hard to obtain, leave him hurt and in a world frustration, feeling exactly as he did after his CITV loss at Pain for Pride when the winning lottery ticket once again escaped his grasp. Thus far, he's responded like an immature child who's been reprimanded for a mistake and was promptly sent to his room as a consequence. In our line of work, wrestlers are defined by how they perform in the heat of the moment, and this maxim isn't necessarily limited to sanctioned in-ring competition, but how you conduct yourself when you're not competing for a victory and you're just handling your day-to-day affairs. Does anyone honestly believe I'd allow someone to unrightfully steal The Mercenaries' Tag Team Championships? I would exhaust literally every course of action I could possibly conjure just to maintain what I've earned, I would leave no stone unturned and I would be absolutely hell-bent on recapturing the fruits of The Mercenaries' labor. In fact, there's virtually nothing I wouldn't do to capture something that represented me, something I coveted, whether that means I'll have to come storming at whatever thief stole my prize with a blistering fury using the element of surprise to my advantage, exploiting loopholes, orchestrating an ambush, or just squaring off with my assailant head-on and decisively beating him on the straight and narrow path. Aren Mstislav is neither the predator nor the opportunist that Y2Impact is, and as unfortunate and sad as it to say, his lack of the killer instinct I've made famous for years will spell his demise as a relevant threat and keep him being perennially mediocre. I've already envisioned the events of Voltage in my head before they've even played themselves out, quite truthfully! Watching Aren squirm out of his date with destiny, watching him suddenly fall into the right predicament where he has an excuse for being unable to return his beloved Pure Championship to its owner, pantomiming and gesticulating his frustration in a stupor of sweat-drenched exhaustion after suffering a heartbreaking defeat before he once again bears witness to Hexa-gun's Four-Quadrant Killer walking back down the aisle with the Pure Championship in hand. It's all too familiar to me, and I'm going to make Aren Mstislav's expectation of failure a reality that will soon become second nature.

As for Liam Catterson, I'd like nothing more than to watch while Drake Jaeger tears him limb from limb and wrestle circles around Catterson while he hopelessly struggles to compete with Jaeger's stamina and ends up walking away in shame like he's done for the better portion of his career in the past two years... But I'm selfish, I'm greedy, I stand on a foundation built by my avarice; I can't rightly allow Jaeger to have all the fun. While I'm sure Jaeger could thwart Catterson all by himself, I'm reminded of the debacle from almost two and a half years ago where Catterson was allowed to defeat me for my Answers World Championship only after receiving assistance from two extremists who proved unable to defeat me, and lastly, the final blow everyone around here calls Mr. DEDEDE. His lonely shelf of World Championships includes that one reign only, and I can't really say his mindset on that particular night wasn't logical -- most wrestlers would have made similar decisions when faced with a golden opportunity to defeat someone they probably couldn't under other circumstances. My gripe is that it wasn't honorable, and while I'm sure he could point to many of the atrocities I've committed in my own career and immediately call me out for being a hypocrite, my greatest and most glorious victories were achieved strictly and exclusively on my own merits. I wasn't blessed with falling under the right star and getting lucky. I catapulted to the highest echelon of this industry without a single person holding my hand or babysitting me along the way; something Liam Catterson, two years removed from a career-defining moment and quite honestly the last noteworthy achievement accredited to his name to this very moment, can't say for himself. Has it bothered you that you haven't able to reach the same success you experienced in the early days of your career, Liam? Has it bothered you that I returned and created an unstoppable force to be reckoned with almost instantly? Are you envious you weren't able to rally enough formidable men around you to fight in the name of your ambition? My career is the template for every aspiration you've set for yourself, and the further the distance grows from your sad state of affairs to my perpetual state of winning, the more despondent and dejected you become. It's only natural to feel upset, Liam! Some of the world's most enormous success stories were spawned from people with far-reaching dreams who came from nothing, people who weren't born into fortune and fame but instead had to deal with poverty while their parents were unable to afford anything but rags for clothes. You're financially secure, you're not in a situation where you have to worry about your job status, and in many ways you've already lived a successful life even though you're simply mediocre at your profession instead of exemplary like yours truly. That's why the United States, the location of EAW's headquarters and the base of its day-to-day operations, is the greatest country in the world! You can be consistently average at your job still pull in healthy paychecks on a regular basis. That is the sum of Liam Catterson's efforts thus far; an extremist who once had promise and flashed his potential repeatedly until he became Answers World Champion, yet has been reduced to a footnote and an afterthought, washed away and forgotten in the shuffle with this huge influx of new talent arriving in EAW recently. How does it feel to be average, Liam Catterson? To go home to your girlfriend and explain to her while on the verge of tears that you lost yet again? I couldn't even imagine! But I know that Hexa-gun's excellence will never be relative to the rest of the wrestling world's talent; it will be an undying, unwavering, unrelenting constant that surrounds lesser wrestles and makes them feel uncomfortable in our presence. And Drake Jaeger and I will make you look exactly as you've shown the world you are ever since your steep fall from grace, Catterson -- average.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

It's not about him winning the gold that pisses me off, though. I made a rookie mistake in that match. A rookie mistake that cost me a title that I could have legitimized, and I let it slip away because I was too worried about a damn referee counting too slow. It was done, I hit him with the Bridge City Cutter. Good night, sweet dreams, auf Wiedersehen. But, alas. The big bad Chuck kicked out, and I decided to give the ref some of my business. I should have fucking known that every rookie makes that mistake. Now, here I am. Titleless, and looking like a damned fool. It doesn't matter how well I did in the whole match, another loss is a loss. I can't believe it.