"Burn E. Sanders"
 
The frantic clanging of various keys on a ring suspiciously fill a quiet 3 A.M. morning behind North 24^th Street in Phoenix. The Arizona Republican Campaign Headquarters is closed, but an employee is desperate to enter the building with his entourage. His hands tremble as he searches for the correct key to unlock the door. A man with wild hair and a face behind a baboon mask flashes the flashlight off an iPhone towards the deadbolt. The light flashes off the metal of the key ring. A trail of blood leaks from under the man’s wrist of his long sleeve, button up shirt and against the keys. Behind the two figures at the door is a 1993 White Ford Bronco with the lights turned off. The Simian Masked occupants slowly creep out the cabin as the door finally opens.
 
The Suit wearing, Baboon Masked man pushes the compromised employee into the building first before entering. The other lackeys follow suit as they turn on their own flashlights onto the employee. The man who seemingly has taken charge and held this man hostage in the baboon mask nods his directions at his hostage to move forward and then points towards the lights. The man holds his wrists close to his chest as he leads the way forward. He touches the wall, searching for the lights switch. He turns one on, then the second, his hand is met with a black leather gloved hand on the third switch. The two lights are apparently enough. The man in a Baboon Mask turns towards his ape-faced henchmen and nods, giving them permission to go ape shit on the place.
 
As The Baboon Masked Leader pushed the Injured prisoner forward, monkey men take out spray paint and go to work on the walls and various cubical inside the building. The words “SAMA” are spray painted across the walls. Kerosene is dumped on the front desk. The Baboon man who is this “Sama”, grabs the man by the shoulder and leads him to a specific door.
 
“Open.”
 
Is the only word uttered behind the mask. The man holds his injured wrist close to him and grabs a specific key he already knows is needed to unlock this specific door. Fear and adrenaline with the will to live hold his shaking palm together just enough to comply with Sama’s demands quick enough to survive his request of opening the door. The door opens and “Sama” again pushes the man in, this time to the ground. The man squirms towards the wall as Sama enters the threshold and into the room with everything he wants tonight.
 
“Cody Marshall.”
 
Sama’s voice again commands to the captive. He stares, stunned and questioningly at the villain holding him against his will. The man in the baboon mask turns and looks down at the man pinning himself against the wall, staring at him helplessly, and confused on what the name means. Is Sama accusing him of being this “Cody Marshall”? Is there a connection? You can see the wild imagination of a scared man attempt to interpret the request and second guess his assumption for fear of his life.
 
“C-Cody Mar-Marshall? Marshall? Is-Is That who you are looking for? I ‘m not him. I do not know a Cody Marshall! I swear! Please!” the man stutters.
 
Sama points at the computer at the desk in the room. The fumes begin to creep in from the building as his goons vandalize and ransack the place. The man picks himself up off the floor from a side of the desk. His breathing is labored as he grunts in pain. He plops himself into the swivel chair and with his free, good hand, jiggles the mouse around to bring up the glow of the screen. His single finger types in a password, and for the next moments, he types slowly and with effort. Sama reaches into his pocket and begins opening and closing a zippo lighter. It’s brass, and along on side a list of names etched into the side read:
 
[Rachel Lethal: RIP]
[Travis Johnson: RIP]
[M. Smith: RIP]
[L.L RIP]
 
The man’s face becomes stern. He speaks up with conviction that he has done everything in his power to appease Sama’s request and to gain his favor. This cowardly man sang like a canary and produced every registered Republican named Cody Marshall on file. Yusuke walks around to the desk while putting away the lighter. He slides a USB into the hard drive and takes over the keyboard. No attempt to circumnavigate the will and wishes with the terrorist his made and he dares not to breath too hard to be anything of a threat, he is looking out for himself. He has a family at home he has to think about. Who will take care of them when he is gone when this Halloween “Planet of the Apes” Monster kills him? He knows the truth about this country and how it runs, and the answer is nobody but themselves. The only thing God can do is give any of these people the strength live through whatever happens.
 
Sama notices on particular entry and then with just enough force, kicks the swivel chair away from the desk send his victim across towards the back corner of the room. Sama keeps an eye on the man while grabbing the phone off the charger on the desk. He dials the number in question. The phone rings, you can barely hear it. The hostage almost imagines the ringing as it happens. He can recall how it sounds, he finds a mild comfort in predicting each ring and the cadence of silence between each one. As no response is made from the Hailing criminal the anticipation of an automated answer kicks in. It does. As it answers, you can almost see a sick grin of excitement curl up against the sides of the masked man. A louder *Beep* is heard followed by a rich accent of an Asian fluent in American-English.
 
“Hello, Mr. Marshall. This is “Burn E. Sanders”, and I am calling on behalf of the Republican Party in Arizona. I am sure we can count on your vote in the upcoming primary election. Probably the most important election ever. The Arizona Republican Party has made immigration a large part focus for a decade now, and we look forward to you being the shining example of American Patriotism this Saturday “LIVE! From Arizona Veterans Memorial Coliseum in Phoenix, Arizona!” against the illegal immigrant, Terrorist, and likely Clinton supporter, Yusuke Toriyama-Sama. This man gives Zero Fucks about our freedom, our god, or our country and I bet the sanctity of life or the sanctity of your match this Saturday. Good luck against him and good luck against the wicked thuggery of The Philly Kid.
 
See you there… I am sure you two will burn the house down.
 
God Bless America.”
 
Sama gently puts down the phone and adjusts the black leather gloves masking the prints on his hands by tugging the cuffs. He walks backwards, slowly out the door. The Man gasps fearfully as Sama opens and then closes the door in front of him.
 
“I did what you wanted! Hello!? Don’t leave me in here?! Help!” The man screams, recorded on the message before ending.
 
Sama exits the door and two masked men place a desk in front the door. Sama and his goons make haste out the back and as the bleeding man reaches for the phone, the breaker is tripped. The men pile into the ’93 White Ford Bronco and Yusuke Toriyama-Sama emerges out the back with his Baboon mask in one hand and a Zippo in the other. He tosses the Zippo and the Mask into the door. He leisurely walks away and into the passanger side seat as red and yellow flicker dangerously out the ajar door of the building.
 
Emergency Response vehicle sirens can be heard in the background as the jeep already turns in, out, any away to their designated rendezvous. A parking garage that just so happened to be experiencing a power outage on its lighting and security cameras provides the shadows for these thugs to disperse in the night. An emergency exit with a flight of stairs is opened with no alarm or illumination as Yusuke takes shelter within. A dim light from a burn phone turns on once inside. Yusuke leaves a message on the phone.
 
“Philly Kid. You wish Mr. Cody Marshall to accept your stipulations for your match at “Rite of Passage”. I am sure his match prior can assist in the persuasion of Mr. Marshall’s conceding to your demands. I am sure we can find the proper leverage for the proper price."

Voltage #4

Friday, Cologne, Germany, 1:35 am

(The scene opens with a shot outside motel room window, down to the streets of cologne. The Cold and wet weather coupled with the hour of night have left the streets practically empty with only the odd, occasional car passing by. The shot pulls back to reveal the man world knows as Solomon Caine, staring out the window, his gaze fixed upon the heavens above.)

Caine: "A flood is coming. It will wash away the dirt and grime that has saturated all the nations of this earth. It will cut thru the ignorance, greed, ineptitude, and weakness that has for far too long been an intolerable sight before the eyes of those who sent me. All of these heathens who have devoted their lives to living as fools blinded by shiny objects and false hopes. All of those festering maggots who cast themselves as chains around the neck of those who are strong enough to accept the truth. That we will all are soon to be victims of the venomous fate that the scum have brought upon ourselves. That they have connived and schemed into positions of power in the every sect. And with that power they have managed to have us all become transfixed upon phantom glories so that they can neither see nor hear the works and words from my masters. They have become addicted to all that is false and vein and do not realize that all their endeavors are for that which is fleeting. They clench their fist around good and silver which cannot protect them. They flee to high towers that will not hide them. They delude themselves by believing that whatever poison spews from their rotten tongue that it is greater than gospel! What do you hope to do Jon McAdams?!? Who can save you? This is not a contest for adulation and pride! This is not a demonstration for fortune and fame! This is the warning to those who will listen!"

(A loud roar of thunder fills the air. Almost immediately a clinking sound emanates from close by. Caine snaps his attention towards it. He spots a big, brown rat scurrying along the dresser. Slowly Caine steps towards it.)

"Why Jon do you provoke them? Do you think you'll be able to outrun them? Do you think you'll be able to bargain with them? Or are you so twisted in your mind that you think you could ever stand and fight against them? I've seen with my own eyes what happens when tries to rebel against their will. I've seen the agony, the suffering, and the remorse was more than I thought humanly possible. But for you Jon, for you it is well deserved. You are the worst kind of filth and disease. Your infect others with your weakness. You pervert the minds of others with your self righteousness and your glimmering trinkets. For this your empire shall be leveled and it's foundation uprooted in front of the whole world!"

(Caine stops and stands next to the dresser. He stares at the rat hiding itself partly behinds a long glass bottle. The rat hisses at Caine who simply scoffs in return.)

Caine: "How fitting an example. A rodent who tries to sneak past forces greater than himself gets caught. And in his pathetic attempt to keep others from seeing his fear, he curse and blasphemes. But though he sounds sure in his boasting, he still knows that he cannot even hope to overpower that which stands before him. And while his gaze is fixed upon the servent..."

(The rat races away. The camera stays fixed on Caine as the sound of a trap closing on the rat and it's last squeals of life ring out.)

Caine: But unlike this creature, Jon McAdams, your doom will not come in the blinking of an eye, your end will be an unrelenting hell from which you will never escape! You will feel the fire eating away at your flesh. Your blood will be poured out like that from a spring! You will weep bitterly, and curse the day the wretched harlot gave birth to you!"

(Caine inhales deeply. His facial expression transitions from malice to mourning)

I'm sorry Jon, I truly am. But this is what must happen for if I fail them then I stand to be judged worst than you. Whatever is in store for you, mine's would be much more. I do as they tell me, and they grant me clemency from the horrors they have planed. I... I can't..."

(Caine flips over the dresser sending everything on it flying. Caine stands silently taking long deep breaths)

Caine: I need to end you. I need to destroy you. I need to dismember you Jon. For they have commanded it and it must be so...

I WILL NOT LET YOU BURN ME JON! I AMN NOT LIKE YOU, I AM NOT WEAK! I AM NOT FILTH. I HAVE HEARD THEIR CALL AND SHALL DO THEIR BIDDING TILL THE GREAT PUNISHMENT FALLS DOWN UPON THIS LAND OF HEATHENS! YOU HORRID SCUM! NOT A SINGLE ONE OF YOU WILL REMAIN AFTER A FLOOD OF FIRE FILLS THE STREETS AND SWEEPS AWAY YOUR CHARRED REMAINS IN LESS THAN A MILLISECOND!!!

I know what is coming, I have seen it, I have heard it, they have told me... AND IT MUST BE SO!"

(Another loud blast of thunder follows a bright flash of lightning whites out the screen before fading black.)

THE END

(Moongoose McQueen is staring at James Knight’s interview from mins ago)
 
Who the hell is this Mongoose guy? I’ve never heard of him. I mean, he is definitely no Moongoose McQueen, international sensation from the past decade or so, having wrestled all over the world in Japan, Mexico, Europe, the US, winning titles, smashing heads, and from what I heard, finally making history by signing up for EAW for the very first time. I mean, man, what took him so long? Why did he let EAW just do their thing while he slumbered quietly? Man, it sure sucks for whoever signed up alongside with him, because if they think they were going to shine, no one is shining brighter than Moongoose McQueen.
 
First of all, IDIOT, the name is Moongoose McQueen. Do I really need to knock your head in until you see double visions of the letter ‘o’ to get you to correct this, or are the drugs for your dyslexia? Second, this is the debut of Moongoose McQueen in EAW. The only thing is certain that on 10/21/2016, one of us is going to debut with our heads held up high and the other out cold drooling over the floor, but not so lucky for you, it’s not going to be your average typical Friday night of paying a hooker to do blow out of her asshole. No no, I’m going to show you a fine example of what you could had been, focused on training, fighting, and being the best, but sorry, I just lied. No matter how hard you work, even if you beat your addiction, YOU on your best day will never beat me on my worse day.
 
Because you see, the fight is already loss with you. I honestly want to say on Friday, I’m going to be the one to beat you, but James Knight, you are going to be the one that beats yourself. You and you alone set yourself up to fail, and you and you alone made the decision to come back when you aren’t even ready. I took a break from the industry too, just like you, but I spent those years planning, plotting, training, when all you did was run away, try to kick a problem, made one new Asian friend, and got a second job to scrape by the sorry excuse you call “your life.” And let me guess, you were drugged and passed out on the bathroom floor and you realized, “Maybe, just maybe, I can rebuild my life.”
 
Now the first stage of grieving is denial. You already went pass that stage when you sign an EAW contract. And man, that denial is strong and reeks of whiskey. And now you are angry just because it becoming real. It’s happening, and you think that channeling that anger into ruthless aggression will get you by in EAW. HA!! I got bad news for you, because I’m angry all the time, but I got the talents to back it up. Now of course, there is still the stages of Bargaining, Depression, and finally acceptance. But you see, you and I make our first encounter in the ring in less than 24 hours, and you probably aren’t even going to be conscious for most of the time.  But you see, I ain’t got time for that shit. I hope you understand that its just business and I gotta look forward to the next step. To break it down, we are going to wrestle in the ring. I am going to knock you out, and each time you get back up, I’m going to push you back down and drive my knee into that back that thing you call a “spine,” and I’m not letting go until you pass out. And when that bell rings, and my hand is raised in the air, I’m just going to walk to the back, forgetting you ever even existed. It’s going to be a good thing for you. Because you see, nobody cares what happens to a nobody, you are gifted with a privilege to walk away from any commitment to the legacy of your father. You have officially tanked it to the point no one cares about the Knight name, and sure, you are just going to go through the 5 stages of grief, again.
 

You’re gonna lie to yourself saying the Knight name can be restored. Then you are going to get angry at me. Then you are going to start asking for rematches, blah blah blah, and I’m going to not give a damn. And then when you don’t get it, you are just going to be sad, and finally accept that you are nothing more than a failure and you should have kept your nose in Japan and in the mountain of cocaine and forget it all ever happened. Maybe I won’t personally be the one to send you back to that hell hole of a life you tried to crawl out off. But you will always remember me as the person that sent you down that downward spiral to begin with. Moongoose McQueen, the man the ruined my life, but son, remember what I said. It’s all you. Its all because you decided to put that John Hancock of yours on a piece of paper the same time I did, and to basically sum it up. James Knight, I’m not only going to beat you, ….. I’m going to make you regret ever returning in the first place.  WELCOME TO EAW!! EAW IS MOONGOOSE MCQUEEN!! This is the future you will see, but I can already assure you, you won’t be here live to witness it, and no amount of drugs is every going to change that for you. Good luck pal, you are going to need it.

 
And that my friends, is how you spin it like a public relations specialist. Although specialist might be a bit of a strong name for Madison. She really couldn’t answer for much of what I said. She took that old approach claiming she comes out week after week and gives her best effort, and then just keeps getting back up and giving that best effort the next time no matter the result. Except we aren’t getting vintage Madison efforts anymore. We’re getting what we got this week. Days of extended silence. I only imagine you spent days, trying to figure out what the hell you were going to say. But the thing is, I knew I had you from the very first day. I knew no matter what you came up with this “talentless” bitch was going to roll over you once again. You’re confusing your misfortunes with being luck for other people. You’re ignoring the fact that you aren’t hardly worth the struggle anymore. And you made it that way. Your best approach now is to come across delusional. It doesn’t matter if you lazily walked your way into a match with a two-week old rookie and got dropped on your ass. It doesn’t matter that you talked about redemption for a whole week leading up to Empress of Elite. You tried to come in like a lion, but faded like a lamb at the slaughter. This is not the Madison I was told to expect when I came here. This is a shell of her. She’s a myth now, just a distant memory. The time she spent as the Vixen’s Champion, those several weeks that she reference like a routine, they’re only remembered by her. It’s all over.
 
Don’t get me wrong, Madison. I know somewhere you still have that ability to come out fighting at that level. Or at least I expect you do. But that was before you took this route. It’s like you came at a crossroads and saw you could make the climb back to the top, stay at the level you were or voluntarily throw yourself down a steep hill. You thought about it, and then happily tossed yourself head over heels down this endless cliff. Your days as the most talented Vixen here are a long told story by you, but the best piece of fiction in the EAW library. You’re still trying to waste your time pretending I have something to prove by beating you. Like you’re some measuring stick or impossible hurdle to cross. But I’ve beaten you numerous times in numerous types of matches. The only thing I’ve learned you’re the best at is leaning on other people to do your dirty work for you. Your whole reign as a champion was a joke because it was gift-wrapped to you while Tarah was on her way out the door. Your days as the throw in to title matches are over, too. Because you’re not interesting anymore. There’s better options. And they don’t have to be tossed in either. They’re earning their way in fashions you couldn’t imagine. Nothing was handed to these girls. Those days have come to a close. Hence, so have yours.
 
You said it yourself. If you continuously tell a lie, sooner or later you start to believe it. There’s better phrase to define you and everything that you stand for. You say you’re the best of the best, but you’re so far from that point now it’s become a joke. Nothing I said to you this week was me talking shit I won’t back up. I was talking all about you. You’ve become a failure so fast, and you’re in a hurry to point fingers and redirect the blame. You did things in the past. But we are so far past that time now. This is now. And all we have is present and future. I’m not sure that period will even include you at all. Your verbal bombs will miss land and fall into the ocean. You throw a grenade and a I casually toss it back and watch it blow up in your face. You say you’re real? No, you’re the last person who backs up their shit week after week. Maybe you used to, but now? Now you just fall on your face, get back up, and flail your arms around as you yell about that last time you main evented a match. You make your presence known? Funny, I would describe you more as ghostly these past few weeks. What, did it take you half the week to realize you had a match for three straight weeks? Or is it four, all the way back to when this rut of yours started. Maybe it’s not a rut. Maybe this is the truth. This is the beginning of the end. You stepped away before and came back in a flurry of excitement. But in only a few moments, you slipped back into a pattern of making the same old mistakes.
 
And so here we are. Same old tricks. I said you would claim I was jealous, and you went right there with your sad cheerleader reference. I’m not trying to lead shit. See these eyes bitch, there’s no fear. You are about the least scary Vixen in this company with the dumbest nickname I’ve ever heard. The losing streak goes on this week Madison. You are so far from sitting on a throne that you’ve gone beyond any normal levels of delusion. I’m coming in and fucking you up again and shaking my head when I walk off. Because it shouldn’t be this easy. But you made it this easy. For weeks now it’s been like we could just stand up top while you dig that hole down six feet deep. Now you’re just getting comfortable in that coffin and begging someone to shut it. I’ll do it for you. I’ll put you down, tear your arm off and shut the lid. And then I’ll nail that bitch shut so you don’t have to crawl out and make a fool out of yourself any longer. But I’m not going to throw the dirt back on for you and finish the bury. That’s for every other random Vixen down the line that kicks your ass over and over.

In the two plus years I’ve been here, I’ve gone from being what EAW calls the New Breed to being one of the Elitists that has to deal with them. Every two to three weeks a new talent would come in talking a big game and someone, whether that be the board or the General Manager, would book them against an established name as a way of seeing if they can put up or if they should shut up. Every once in awhile I’d get to be the lucky person to test the new blood. Unfortunately for these New Breeders, every single time one of them stepped into the ring with me they were forced to shut up when I pinned them in that ring. Every time. No exceptions. Ahren Fournier, Christian Locke, Mexican Samurai… they all said the same thing and they all made the same mistakes every. Single. Time. They would make baseless claims about how I thought I was better than I was, act like I thought that I was mentally superior to everyone else in the locker room. If I used a metaphor they would allow themselves to get caught up in said metaphor and treat it like I’m too caught up in, I don’t know, let’s say the Presidential Election, and that would be a part of my downfall when really it was just a way of comparing our situation to another real life event. You know, so the cogs turning in their brain could make some kind of connection and understand just how badly they’ve messed up. Best of all, they would pick and choose the words that came out off my mouth and try to use them against me like two seemingly unrelated sentences were somehow correlated as though that was enough to tell me that I’m wrong. If I’m being truthful, the first two or three times I had to deal with this attitude it got under my skin. It was the first time I’d been on that side of the battle and, quite honestly, I could understand why so many Elitists fell into the trap that had been laid out for them. It’s easy to underestimate their words and assume that they have no idea what they’re talking about but when it happens time and time again you know that it’s no accident. Pretty soon you realise that there’s a genuine strategy there and that’s 1. To talk a big game 2. To belittle your opponent as much as possible by bending the truth... or just straight up lying and 3. Get them heated.

I’ve come to expect such a simple game plan from all of EAW’s freshest faces… but I never expected it from a Hall of Famer of all people.

That’s right, Impact, you speak to me like you’re still in the New Breed and that’s not even a slight exaggeration. Every rookie mistake, every novice tactic that I just mentioned? You made sure to use every single one of them. No wonder everyone thinks you’re off your game when this is the way that you talk. I’m sure that once upon a time you were this highly intellectual being of power that all men feared but the man I was just forced to listen to sounded like a slightly better educated JJ Silva.

Let’s start with an easy example, shall we? Treating me like I think I’m smarter than everyone else in the room. I’d like to start off with by saying that I’m sorry that my mocking of you hurt your precious ego that much where you had to come to such an inaccurate conclusion. It’s the same thing that happens whenever someone gets insulted and they can’t come up with a suitable retort. “Oh, you think you’re so much better than everyone else, don’t you?!” Is basically what you just said. I mean, feel free to think that but if that were true then I wouldn’t be stood here working for everything that I’ve done. What you don’t seem to understand is that from the moment I spoke I got under your skin because, unlike the ridiculous “pretend to be smart” routine that has been so overused, I said something obvious. That immediately got to you and you’d be lying if you said that it didn’t because you’ve been doing everything you can to try and get to me because of it. Unlike what I’ve been saying this whole time you’ve just been spewing baseless remarks about who I am as a person purely based off of “body language” and your “superior intellect”. Who thinks they’re the genius now? If you actually took any kind of psychology class you’d  know that body language by itself means almost nothing when you’re trying to extract information about a person’s personality, especially when you only have one instance as evidence. Trying to use that against me just makes you look stupid so no wonder you have such a problem with me supposedly thinking I’m smarter than you. You can’t keep falling on your face and expect people to believe that I’ve been tripping you this whole time. That’s just not how this works.

Then we have the attention-seeking. Here’s some real psychology for you, Impact. If I took everything you said about me, mixed it all up, turned it into an image and gave it to you then you’d be looking at a picture of yourself. Notice how I never once mentioned that I wanted your attention yet you tried to twist it that way regardless? Just a hunch but I have a feeling that you see me wanting you to care about me as a direct parallel to me caring about you. I don’t even need to look at body language or try and dive into your psyche when I’ve seen your attitude multiple times for myself. You have the constant craving to be at the center of attention and you can’t stand it when someone doesn’t give you the respect you think you deserve. Here’s the thing: respect is EARNED… and every time that we’ve been stood together you’ve made a mockery of Voltage. If you need any proof of your ego getting in the way then just look at how you decided to introduce yourself as the captain of Team Voltage. During whatever ridiculous argument was being had you walked in and tried your damnedest to take control of the room with four words: “I’m the team captain.” and then when push came to shove we all laughed at your humiliating defeat at the hands of Team Dynasty. To make things even better you had the gall to use my metaphor as a way to directly compare yourself to the goddamn President of the United States. If that alone isn’t enough proof that you’re an egomaniac then I don’t know what is. Then again it’s hardly the first time you’ve come up with such pompous, ego-driven spiel. Hell, what was it you said after Territorial Invasion? The match was “a waste of your time”? Just how fickle are you? It’s that same ego that gives you this better-than-everyone mentality that makes you look ridiculous when you can’t live up to your own hype. You’ll make excuse after excuse after excuse as though it warrants your lack of success in hopes that everyone stops talking about it forgets that it ever happened. You know why I don’t forget about it? Because if was a MONTH ago. That’s why this is important and it’s why it’s topical but if you’d really like to go back further so we can talk about why you were our team captain. Yeah, you led Hexa-Gun but against who? Teams consisting of Phoenix Winterborn and Carson Ramsay? Congratulations on your ever-dominant team spending their whole tenure beating rookies. The only times you faced anyone of value were when you were challenged by a team lead by a dying Savage Ryans and when you LOST at Road to Redemption to Jacob Senn and Lucian Black. I suppose you deserve a round of applause for that kind of work. Congrats! That’s like The Nas calling himself a tag team specialist after his one lackluster Tag Team Championship reign.

The Grand Rampage has been your one success since your Hexa-Gun protection ended so it’s no wonder you continue to talk yourself up with that. It didn’t amount to anything, though, did it? Just like you leading Team Voltage didn’t and just like you being named the co-number one contender won’t.

I don’t need to talk about my accomplishments but since you’re going to question my legitimacy, here’s a fact check for YOU. Do you know how many shots at singles championship I’ve had? Four. You know how many of those I’ve won? Two. That’s half and while that may not sound convincing that’s sure as hell a better percentage than what you’ve won and the only reason, THE ONLY REASON, I lost to Scott Oasis was because I wrestled with a broken neck. So you know what? This whole “failing to win championships” argument you’ve got going is unfounded and, because of that, doesn’t bother me. It’s just more New Breed strategy coming out of your mouth over and over again like it’s supposed to get me heated but all I can do is laugh when you say such ridiculous shit. So go ahead and compare me to Eddie Mack like our situation was at all similar, like it actually holds any value.  I know that I can stand proudly knowing that I came within inches of victory despite the blood feud between Jamie O’Hara and Xavier Williams. If anything, I did something that was almost unheard of when I cashed in on a world title match and, unlike RRS, I actually wanted to go in there fair and square and prove to myself that I could do it. Yes, I failed but you know what? That happens. Comparing my situation to Eddie Mack’s is like comparing your situation to Johnny Ventura’s. I almost expected better than for you to say something so… easy. It’s as though you couldn’t think of any way to actually offend me so you took the quick route of comparing me to someone else who failed their cash-in. The big difference between he and I, aside from the fact that I actually came close and with what was considered a lesser cash-in device, is that I’ve managed to bounce back where he continued to find himself lost in the shuffle.

I don’t get where you’re getting this idea of me being an underachiever comes from either. I’ve won my fair share of gold, just because I’m not here bragging and boasting about winning something as trivial as the Spartan Cup doesn’t mean I didn’t do it. It means about as much as your world titles from years ago do: Nothing. This may or may not be a “What have you done for me lately?” society but I know for a damn fact that this company is. Past success doesn’t warrant future opportunities just because they so happen to exist in our history. Opportunities are warranted by current and consistent success. You may know what it's like to have been in the limelight but when it all comes down to it that doesn't matter. Experience in the main event? It means nothing when you're stood there face to face with your rival about to do battle. Claiming that I don't have what it takes just because I've never felt what it's like to be in the main event, to have a one on one world title match, to face Voin, but the only reason that would matter is if I let the hype get to me. I'm not going to let it. I walk in to every match with the same attitude: make or break. I'm not going to allow this to break me. Despite all the voices telling me that I can't do it and all the people screaming my name, I'm not going to be phased. Since I came back at Pain for Pride I haven’t lost a single Voltage match and I’ve done that through hard work and determination, not through cheating, not through disqualification, just blood, sweat and tears. Then again, I kind of figured someone who sits so high and mighty from his throne wouldn’t be able to understand what that means anymore.

The Grand Rampage comment is the funniest though. Again, checking some facts here: I’ve not been in a Grand Rampage. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever even been here for the Grand Rampage event itself. So, like, whatever. That’s cool. You’ve probably been in a good few Grand Rampage matches and this is the first time you’ve won. That’s great for you, I guess, but this is the attitude I’ve ALWAYS had so don’t come at me like you think you know anything about who I am when you explicitly stated that you’ve never paid attention to me. I’ve never been soft spoken and I’m not that stupid to fall for such a blatant trap when you’ve clearly got your head up your own ass. I may talk a lot-- and I do talk a lot-- but I continue to fulfill the promises that I make. Diamond Cage? I beat him. Kenny Drake? I beat him. There are times I don’t even think you know of where I’ve succeeded where everyone thought that I would fail but I don’t nor have I ever complained. All I’ve done up until this point is state facts because there are times where I have been screwed over and out of title shots I deserved and I have been given the short end of the stick before but the last thing I’m going to do is complain. Complaining doesn’t get you anywhere; action is what makes a difference. That’s why when I found out that there was the possibility of you being added to the Shock Value match, I admitted the truth. Yes, our supposed one on one match had been tarnished but that doesn’t make me a hypocrite for not caring about the prospect of you being involved. If I can so kindly bring us back to the metaphor regarding the Presidential debate, I know that regardless of who becomes President between Trump and Hillary that these will be the worst four years of the United States possibly ever… but I have family in Canada. In the same vein my match with Aren is on the verge of being tarnished by your inclusion but it doesn’t matter because I’m still going to win. It has nothing to do with being fickle or flip-flopping from point to point or whatever else you want to claim it is. I stated a fact and then I told you and everyone else what to do about it. Is that so hard for you to understand? I get that you think hurting Aren is supposed to be enough to warrant a title match but maybe with some actual logic you’ll understand that some things other people say do actually make sense.

Regarding Aren, though, God, you really are clueless. You may have injured Aren, you may have left him beaten and bruised but I and I alone won’t be dealing with Aren; I’ll have to handle Voin. Voin is different. In all the years that I’ve known Aren, I’ve never seen something so dark and callous come from him before and, judging by how you seem to be handling this whole situation, you have no idea what would be in store if you did somehow force your way into our match. While you may have had your time in the limelight and you do know what it takes to main event Pain for Pride, you don’t know what it’s like to face Aren Mstislav at his very worst. Up until this point I thought that I did but I was wrong, just like you’re going to be proven wrong this Sunday when I leave you nailed to that mat. Struggling to stay afloat next to my peers has never, ever been a problem for me but it will be for you when you finally get to see what the Midas Touch is all about, live and in all its glory which is something you’ll never get to taste again, not when you’re too busy getting caught up in an offhanded comment about no contests. Maybe I’m wrong but I know both times you failed to beat Aren even when you were given the handicap of it being a no disqualification match. What happened there, then? I’m fairly certain that you, again, did not win. Just like the first time, you failed. So what happens? Carlos gives you what on paper would be considered an even bigger handicap by putting you against the number one contender instead so you can maybe, just MAYBE, regain some momentum heading into Shock Value before having the opportunity to face Aren again but I’m afraid that’s just not going to happen. I’m not going to take this lying down like I’m just another name on the list of Voltage Elitists.

I earned this championship match and I’m not going to have my opportunity taken away by some pompous asshole who thinks he knows all that’s right in the world just because he’s had second chance after second chance thrown his way like he’s a dog begging for a bone. That’s not how this is going down and I’m going to make sure that the only thing that does go down... is The Machine. It’s about time that someone made it crash once and for all and I’m going to make sure that the person to do that is ME.

The Birmingham-Jefferson Convention Complex in Birmingham, AL
 
(Moongoose McQueen is stepping out of the doctor’s office. With a huge grin on his face.)
 
Woo. Check this out, Baby. In this folder is my Wellness Policy report. See right there. MOONGOOSE MCQUEEN. That’s M-Double ‘O’ – N- G- Double ‘O’ – S- E McQueen. Weighing in at 236 lbs, standing at 6’-0”, what what’s this? I passed my drug test with flying colors? No roids, no crack, no coke, mollies, ice, crank, speed, NOT ONE OUNCE OF DRUGS IN MY SYSTEM. THIS IS 100% ALL REAL, ALL NATURAL NOTHING ENHANCED. STRENGTH, DURABILITY, ATTITUDE, AND INSANITY. Yep, never been in a situation where I couldn’t perform in my peak condition. Never been a pussy to the point I needed pain killers. And never been so desperate to escape from reality that I need to go on certain trips if you catch my drift. I dare say, with this document, you are looking at a definite specimen known as “A REAL MAN.”
 
Ah yes, here is a report that my own father would be proud to put up on his fridge and yes, “Moongoose, I’m proud of what you’ve become. You have taken real control of your life. You have no demons that controls you, and more importantly, you don’t embarrass your family’s legacy  as much as James Knight.” James, James, James. … tsk tsk tsk….. Has it gotten so bad that you have to go into bars to pick fights with drunks. At least when I go pick fights, I find people that deserve a good beating rather then some loser that just wants to drink alone and ponder about what direction their life is going. Oh Sing me a song, you’re the piano man. Sing me a song tonight, Let this song be James Knight’s last rite, because there is no way his career’s coming back after this fight. OH LA LA DA DE DA. DA DA DE DE DAH.
 
Don’t get cocky just because you think “Moongoose McQueen” is a stupid name, especially if that is all you have going for you in this fight. Here you are carrying blood soaked money, beating up bums, taking advantage of people, hoping from bar to bar to cause a little trouble. Let me ask you, buddy. HOW YOU EVEN SLEEP IN YOUR CAR AT NIGHT?!! Don’t get me wrong, I’m a bad guy too. But with that said, I’m going to have to ask you to stop that, because what you do is making me look bad every drug lord in every b action movie film. You see, because its not hard to get people hook on drugs. It’s a product that does the job for you. You should know since you seem to “test” your own product. Granted, it’s the same concept of what I do. I build them up, give them a taste of what it’s like to get to the top, let them believe they are unstoppable. Nothing in the world can stop them. But then I take it away. Its like playing God. Its an amazing feeling, believe me, I know. But you see, all you do is withhold drugs when they ain’t got the money. Already, they are weakened, and all you do is bully them. Me, I raise them to believe they are at their strongest, and then I attack and break them back all the way down. So if you are going to come here and try to play the villain, atleast please, don’t bring that weak ass shit in my court. I came here to prove that I am the best at what I do. Whether it’s to be the most heinous bastard the world has ever seen or be the hero that EAW so desperate needs, I’m ready to give and just as ready to take it all away. But seriously, you give the real assholes, such as myself a bad name.
 
And the sad truth is, that’s not the only name you bring shame to. I did tell you how I loved your father’s work, right? Now that man knew how to bring magic in the ring. He went around that ring like he had a real purpose. Something to prove, and here I am, tomorrow night, getting ready to beat a giant condom full or drugs, and yes, you will break. Perhaps I’m going a little too far in bringing your father into this, but nah, its because the only interesting thing about you is your father, so assuming this dance between you and I continue, get use to it, because you have done nothing since your disappearance, and I doubt October 21, 2016, you are going to actually do anything impressive at all. Only chance you have of defeating me is if you pay me to lie down during the match, but spoiler alert before you ask, I don’t take dirty drug money.  But now, I suppose all we can really do now is just wait. Tick tock, tick tock. In the mean time…..
 
(McQueen puts on his head phones)
 
Here is my best Jimmy Knight Sr. impression from the 80’s.
 
(McQueen walks away from the camera as he sings to the tune of “You Give Love A Bad Name” by Bon Jovi)
 
Humped a whore!
Pulled out too late!
Now that bitch gave birth to James Knight.
Now he sell drugs, and snorts cocaine!
Why didn’t the hell I just masturbate!!
 

(McQueen does an air electric guitar solo in the hall while camera fades to black)

Yusuke Toriyama-Sama. I can't even pronounce that damn name. Is it "you suck Toriyama-Sama"? I'll go with that one. Cause it's true, you're a pretender with no skills to back it up. You're in over your head, pal. Trying to step into my domain and make a name for yourself? I've got the experience, the size, the strength, I can brawl with the best of them. I'm 6 foot fucking 8, 305 fucking pounds. You're the size of my son Roscoe -- he's 13. Freshman year and he's already playing Varsity football. You seem like the guy who got cut from every team in high school. Because you take the easy way out. You don't work hard. Instead of getting a legitimate job and working your way up the ladder, you turned to crime. Extortion, theft, money laundering. I guess you needed to feel tough to compensate for your shortcomings. You probably got the dick size of my youngest son -- and he's a damn 5 year old! And you wanna step up to me? You've gotta be crazy, treating this match like some joke. As a competitor, I'm on a completely different level than you. As I said, you're in way over your head. This is like an Asian dude going into the department store, heading to the condom aisle and buying Magnum XLs. Who are you trying to fool? You soo kay, you suck, you's gay, you so gay, yusk, however you say your dumbass name... when you go to the corner store and buy Magnums, and when you step in the ring with me, it's the same story. When you slip that condom on, it'll fall off, cause you can't measure up. When you get in the ring with me, your career's gonna fall off harder than Akon -- not that you had any success in the first place. Cause you just can't measure up to Cody Marshall.

In a way, I'm doing you a favor. When I squash you like a bug in your first EAW match, you'll realize early on that you don't have what it takes. Hopefully you'll see yourself out. I'm sure there's lots of math tutoring jobs that would be glad to take you on. I kid. But seriously, you should consider a career change. You can flex your gold chains, shotguns, fake Armani suits, all that wannabe shit. But it ain't gonna make a difference when we step in the ring. I'm better than you, and God is on my side. You made your living extorting money from hardworking citizens. You've killed people. I'm a guy kids can look up to! I'm hard-working, I've got an inspiring story, I'm an ordained minister, American born-and-raised, the list goes on. You come into our country with your work visa, taking up a spot on the roster that could go to an American man who's trying to feed his family and give them a better life! You brag about all the crimes you committed and the riches they brought you, while honest, hardworking people live on a pittance compared to thieving scoundrels like you. That ain't my America, boy. That's not the country I wanna live in! You get clean, get a productive job, maybe even start a legitimate investment company -- no problem with that. But this shit? How did you even get past the background checks? Can I see your papers? You probably got none. You just hopped on a plane and came here! Illegal immigration: it's a serious problem. But you're not. You're a joke. Just preparation for my real target. 

Philly Kid, Dave, whatever they call you, I hope you're watching this match Saturday night. You're gonna see once again what I'm capable of. Marshall's War continues. This schmuck's a nice tune-up match, just practice for what I'm gonna do to you at Rite of Passage. During our sit-down interview on Showdown, you insulted my wife and kids, and I will not stand for that! You also hurled some other accusations at me. Steroid use? Totally false. I'd ask you but you're clearly not on anything except Pop Tarts and Hot Pockets and whatever food your mom gives you when you go to her house to do your laundry. You are nothing but a joke, and I'm gonna steamroll you, and I'm gonna move on to some real competition. I've carved a path of devastation ever since I got here. I've taken one loss in my entire EAW career, and you ain't about to be number two to pull off a victory. You're going down. Enjoy your 15 minutes of fame, cause it's all gonna come crashing down at Rite of Passage. 

You ain't shit, boy.

 
 




 



 
 
 
 
 
 
 




 
 
 
 
 
 


 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 


 

As of late my behavior has been one of a flea-bitten mutt in pursuit of a fleeting car.  I see it.  I want it.  Therefore I chase it.  But it never occurred to me to stop and think, ‘what the hell am I going to do with it’?  I’ve come to the realization that at such a pivotal point in my sophomoric career, I don’t need any form of validation verbal or otherwise.  On more than an occasion my career has been noted synonymous with legendary, and that was long before my unprecedented summoning to the EAW.  Its all the more reason for the lack of disappointment I have in light of the results of House of Glass.  If I desperately wanted the Hall of Fame Championship, there’s no question I would have it by now.  I’m someone who has come a lot of adversity in their time -- made their career their life and partook in some of the deadliest matches in sports entertainment history.  Do you really think I can’t take a Title from an egotistical blowhard like DEDEDE?  That I can’t beat a withering Devan Dubian?  The proof is in the week’s line-up, notice his name is nowhere on the card.  He may still think he has the testicular fortitude to take the swings and keep on coming, but his body begs to differ.  My scars and bruises have healed quite nicely, while his burden him from competition.  Now that is disappointing.  It’s my own fault really, I expected more from the Number One Contender but I digress.  When you haven’t the smallest desire to hear or prove how great you are is such a liberating feeling.  The shackles that bond me -- the prison that contained me are no more.  I’m free.  Free of the stress, free of the worry, free of the enslavement and doubt.  Every match that I am placed in from here on out is brought on by the fact that I want to compete; not because I have to.  My destiny is mine to forge into existence and mine alone -- not to be influenced by anyone else.  I only wish that this feeling of liberation that I’ve come to know will one day know those like Hurricane Hawk, who fight because they feel they have something to prove to their peers.  Granted, we each have our reasons for being here; some for money, some for the excitement of a good fight, others for Titles, but that has to be the weakest excuse I’ve ever heard.  Are you that apprehensive -- that unsure of yourself that you’ll allow the voices of many drown out the only voice that should appeal to you, your own?  Truth is there will always be someone in the back, in the audience, or watching at home with negative connotation on you, your career, and everything you stand for so why bother doing it for them?  Why reduce yourself to being another dog chasing a car you have no use for?  You’ve made it to the Hall of Fame and by some miracle you’re still around, but that isn’t enough for you.  Being alive and mobile, considering our product’s risky nature, in itself is a major accomplishment; but it still isn’t enough, because you’re too busy moping over what you don’t have and probably never will.  Tomorrow night I aim to humble you, Hawk.  I’m going to make you more appreciative of what you’ve got by taking it away from you; and in turn I’ll be enjoying every grueling hour of your execution.  For what is Hawk Nation to a Nuclear Bomb?  A target.

You think I am a flash in the past? You realize January will be my one year anniversary since joining the main roster here at Elite Answers Wrestling? Making fun of my time at The Ohio State University keep it coming because I hear all the bullshit coming out of your mouth every single week. It seems to me you just went to my sign up page and skimmed the whole page and came up with two bullshit things to insult me with. Well let's take a history lesson my friend since your the so called 'veteran.' Did you know I was the first person to hold the re-branded Young Lions Cup? Did you know I along with JJ Silva carried The New Breed division at Pain for Pride 9 against The Vixens in the Divide and Conquer match up? Did you know I have taken out many men with the soon to be single most dangerous move in our sport today called The Machine Break? Did you know I can break your arm in less then ten seconds so I would watch where your mouth is moving my friend. Normally when people arrive or return to this company I welcome them right in with open arms but what you are doing....you questioning that I am the one who is a flash in the past? You haven't wrestled in YEARS! Myself...well I haven't even been in this company for over three hundred and sixty five days yet so what the hell are you talking about my friend? I will admit I was on the top of the world when I was on Voltage a while back before the draft lottery, I was impressing people left and right and became a winner once I held that Young Lions Cup. Then the world came crashing down when I challenged Aria Jaxon for the Young Lions Cup at the draft show. With a snap of my fingers my world turned upside down and I will openly admit it that I haven't been the same since. Sometimes in life you can't get over some losses and some losses my haunt you for months....years....and maybe even for the rest of your life. I will openly admit to all of you people that two matches in my career has haunted me for a while and still is to this day. First off on StarrStan's retirement tour, I faced him one on one. My idol in this business, the one person I looked up to growing up and it was my one shot to get the job done and prove to him and everyone in the Voltage locker room I not only deserve to hang with the big boys but put myself on the map but I wasn't able to get the job done. The second match was at the draft lottery against Aria Jaxon for the Young Lions Cup, people like to make fun of me still to this day for losing to Aria. Don't get me wrong I love Aria as a friend but losing the cup was like a gun shot to the heart because that Cup meant the world to me. When Ashten Cross the former General Manager of Voltage presented the Cup to me back in June, I felt like I was next in line for a shot at the New Breed Championship, I was so close to it but Aria ripped the rug from under me and I was never the same and still never got my shot one on one with the New Breed Champion.

It just disgusts me honestly how bad the executives of Dynasty don't like me for some reason. The New Breed division is the reason why Voltage got so much success and still is one of the hottest brands in the company today! Why do you think so many stars were created lately? It is because of the Voltage brand, just look at Carson Ramsey, Kenny Drake, Nas, Eclipse. The list goes on and on......the moment I was split from the guys I walked into the door with everything changed for me I felt like I was on the bottom of the totem pole once again and I still have to prove myself to the executives that I deserve the big money matches, I deserve a shot at the Interwire Championship, I deserve to be on the poster of a free per-view card. They may or may not like me but the bottom line is I am going to force them to like me because I will not walk of Alabama tomorrow night until I am no longer breathing and need to be transported to the emergency room because the time for talking is done. I am sick and tired of taking a back seat behind of some guys who are just going to make bad decisions like Xavier Williams and Dark Demon. It's my time to fucking shine in this business, I am not going down without a fight and I am damn sure not taking no for an answer. The Road to my Redemption begins tomorrow night when I step into the Squared Circle once again and this time I am walking out a winner with the tons of the elite fans by my side!

Last week was something of a blur for me. I went from playing beat 'em up detective to wondering where the hell my partner in crime, Reina, went. I visited the gym and only Serenity and Reina's friend Kevin was there. He mentioned about how Reina had to leave town "to take care of some business" and how "he didn't know when she'll be back". I grudgingly nodded and took Serenity back home, where she wanted to continue her training. After an hour long conversation with Angie, she finally allowed her daughter to learn under my watch. Since my hands was going to be full, I requested for Jocelyn to stay with me in New York, where I'll train both girls side by side. Maybe they'll become a tag team one day.


While I spent the week awaiting Jocelyn, I thought about my next plan of action. Buster Williams mentioned about being approached by a Latino man wearing shades. He's the one who set Buster up with the connect, a mysterious benefactor nobody on the streets knew of. But what Buster did know was that there was a dealer in Queens who was given the same deal as him. I didn't know much about Queens, but I had a former tag partner who did. My only hope was that her match last week didn't take too much out of her.


(Cloud is sitting in her computer chair, sipping from a large thermal. Her eyes were baggy as usual.)

I've sat here for the past few days wondering what could I say to a Veena Adams and a Briana Tyler. Sometimes I wondered if I should say anything at all.

And then you spoke.

I was hoping for something more Veena, I really was. I mean the niece of Ryan Adams aka Mr. DEDEDE, aka Hollywood DEDEDE, aka Diamond Dallas DEDEDE, aka Methamphetamine or whatever came down from the heavens to grace us with her presence!  You opened that angelic mouth of yours so our ears could feast upon that golden voice to hear what the almighty Vixen Killer has to say! And know what we heard Veena!?

Nothing. Not a goddamn thing.

We didn't hear nothing because you are nothing Veena. No scratch that- you're just a wasted expenditure on the EAW budget. You're just here to fill up space, to give the main eventers something to beat up on until the brass decides it's time for me to clean house. The only reason why I'm stuck in this match with the likes of you is to feed my hunger. Sorry sweets, but even your plump ass couldn't wet my appetite. Your recent victory was only achieved by design - a design created by yours truly and solidified by a woman who should have walked out of HOG with the Vix- Women's Championship. (Sips) That's okay though, because EAW'S most efficient German is going to bring prestige back to our division. Surprised by my ass kissing? Let's just say real recognizes real and right Veena and Briana...

You're both nowhere to be found.

The two of you are so unrecognizable that I'm likely to find Waldo before I come across you wastes of space. No matter how much your heads get knocked around, both of you swear your the shit. Well I may have to agree with you on that. You're the shit alright - a piece of shit that is. Both of you, pieces of crap scrapped off the side of the road by some schlep walking his dog while I’m doing his wife! (thinks for a moment) That was last Tuesday I think. Anyway, you insult my family, and my ability to connect with others. Sexy Curry...Formation...The Sanatorium. You see Veena, unlike you, I’m able to make friends. Yeah alliances come and go, but guess what? That’s life. Life isn’t all about what your uncle can do for you. It’s about the hard work and effort you’re able to put in yourself. Don’t be mad that people like me and you don’t. Even those backstabbing wrenches The Sirens at one point called me one of their own. As for you...nobody likes you. Never had, never will. Cailin and I have a better shot at getting back together than anyone on the roster uttering the phrase “I like Veena Adams.” Sorry sweets, but that’s never going to happen Deal with it. 

(Pauses for a moment, shaking her head)

I really didn’t want to respond to your bullshit of a promo Veena. My agent says this is essential to promote myself, so I figured I’d listen to her since she made me the third highest paid female on the roster (shrugs). Somehow Carlos’ ass is making a living and all he does is sit behind a desk all day. I’d rather slit my wrist before working in a office, but that’s just the warrior in me speaking. Wait- you’re not a warrior Veena, I forgot. You neither know or understand the heart of a fighter, someone who exist solely to exceed their own limitations.But if I have to shut you down to get what I want, then so be it. Speaking of which, I’m putting my plans for Queen of the World aside for a moment. From what I hear, there’s a tag tournament coming up and I found someone earlier who wants those titles just as much as I do. Yes Veena, I made another ally. Matter of fact, she’s downstairs working on her submission game. In a way you can call her The Queen of Submissions. Or is it Puroresu? Or is it Arrogance Personified? Hmm, and I thought I had a lot of nicknames. 

You claim you hate Vixens - a sentiment I can understand - but then you claim you hate women in general. Is a whiny White cis-gendered male lurking inside of you? Do you live in mommy’s basement, beating off to Trump videos, afraid to go out and embrace the diversity the world has to offer? Are you upset because I can get attention whenever I want, while you’re forced to sit there in the corner of the ladies locker room like the quiet Connecticut church mouse you actually are? That’s what upset me about you CT’ers! You talk so much shit but when you ride down that Metro North to the Big Apple, you ain’t got shit to say until you go back home and make a Facebook post about how shitty New Yorkers are!

(gets up from her seat and leans forward)

Come on Veeny dear, let’s it hear it. Come on sweets, talk that good shit. Run that made-for-Brazzers mouth of yours. Huh? What was that? You got nothing? Of course you have nothing, we already established that earlier. Until you take the steps to becoming a real bitch, leave the biting to me, the HBIC of EAW. I can chew you up and spit you back out without hesitation so don’t you dare think you can bump heads with someone who’s already defeated TWO legends in her year one! If I was you, I’d pay attention to Cleo’s words. It’s not nice to piss off your boss unless if you have some form of backup. I think your uncle is a bit too preoccupied to have your back sweets, so all you got is you. And to be frank, nobody can do this alone. Yeah you might become the face that runs this place for a little bit, but eventually someone will come at you from your blind spot and that’s all she wrote. Of course you can’t comprehend this because a caterpillar can’t relate to what an eagle envisions. You feel like you have the same outlook of life that a Hall of Famer - or hell a seven year veteran, but you don’t. It’s impossible sweets. So sit back down, let the adults do their thing and maybe one day when you’re mature enough, the responsibility of a true champion will come your way. 

(Looks at her watch)

Anyways, this has been fun. Tell your scissor-sister to show up for the prom, because once this dance begins, there’s gonna be blood on the dance floor.

Female Japanese voice: Junbi wa dekimashita ka?

Cloud: (shouts) Tsukamatte iru!

(Camera off)

Maybe this is some sort of divine justice or I could be looking at this situation too hard. I get it, I didn’t show up during the Territorial Invasion match and now my opponent is going to give me the silent treatment much like I how I gave it to everyone else. There are some injustices in the world and I wouldn’t be surprised if Drake won even though he didn’t speak a word about our upcoming match. I won’t take this as fear, because someone like Drake Jaegar can use this opportunity to pounce on me at any time… so I’ll sit here and wait…and wait…and wait.  While I’m doing all this waiting for someone who so eagerly and impatiently calls out TLA for a title shot, let me go ahead and state that I’m looking for the World Heavyweight Championship. I’m excited for Jacob Senn winning the whole thing, not that I didn’t like Lucian Black, but Jacob Senn is a proud man and the stakes of actually winning it just got a lot larger. The bigger the challenge of going after this piece of elusive hardware has made my heart race, my adrenaline go through the roof; I am no longer trembling because of stress, I’m trembling because of excitement. I can’t wait to go out there and eventually take on Jacob Senn in one-on-one competition, because I know that I have what it takes to give Jacob Senn the biggest fight on the roster. Of course, that title shot will probably go to someone like Kevin Devastation or Devan Dubian, but it really doesn’t matter because I’m willing to wait my turn. When I let the team down at TI, I was forced to go back to the end of the line, everything that I had to work for, in regards of making my name in Dynasty, was erased.

Drake, you confidently said on social media that it was my turn to face you. That I would be next in line on your quest towards that Interwire Championship, “The Mexican One”, you could be referring to TLA, but I’m hispanic too. It’s even in my name. I kind of have to represent for my race now, because I went too far in renouncing who I was in my match against TLA at Pain For Pride. I even went and stated that I would vote for Trump because I refused to acknowledge the pride that Mexicans like TLA and I share. I let all of my Mexican fans down, but things change and people mature. It’s time to show the fans of Mexico that there can be two proud men who work hard on Dynasty. It’s a shame that Drake Jaegar won’t even get past the first “Mexican” on his way to the one wearing gold.

So… I’m waiting for the humor.

I’m waiting for the jokes at my expense.

I’m waiting for the competition.

Well… I’m waiting for anything.