A roundhouse kick resonated against the strike bag, causing the entity to shatter and vibrate, and the surroundings to grow silenced, excluding the grunt from our protagonist. The camera focused outwards from the bag, illuminating Sheridan's initial silhouette. Attired in a strappy sports bra and combat shorts, her ankles enclosed within tape to confide the structure of her lower leg, she certainly looked the part. Golden blonde hair tied back, dark brows furrowed, lips pouted. Sweat glistened against her abdominals, her upper body naturally whiter than the cinnamon shade sweat caused her skin to shade as. Aggressive strikes continued to land against the strike bag for another minute or so, grunts growing louder and frustrated, the impact of her attacks causing the reverberate to increase gradually. A final middle reverse roundhouse kick finished her training. The camera blurred, as the background fell to irrelevancy, Sheridan picked up her recorder with her free palm, whilst the other clutched around her kombucha drink, situated in a shaded glass. A straw found her cherry-stained lips, the drink materialised within her throat. Following this, the vindictive blonde rolled her head upon her shoulders, and then rotated the latter before addressing her opponent.

'' Your assertions of the impact certain changes have caused to Empire, as a whole concept, are just fallacious and ever so amusing to listen to. I am well aware of what has happened since my extradition. Cailin was fired, yes. Brody passed away, yes. However the implications of these mean very little from an individualistic point of view. The two names I previously stated will have zero effect or cause within our wrestling match, it's somewhat an irritant that you continue to insult my intelligence with these snide, passive aggressive implications. You continue to assert that Empire has changed, and relate to this as a negative however I have a rather refreshing view upon it, within my eyes I only see less people for me to run through, less individuals to hold vengeance and wicked thoughts for. Please correct me if I am incorrect, but the women who held championships upon this brand at this moment, are the same as the day I was fired, no? I'm failing to see why you would bring up a point like this within the first place, the majority of what you speak you either fail to validate and offer a rational view for, and within the small, slight minorities of times you manage to achieve such an imposing task, unfortunately your initial point has very little impact in relation to the result of our match this week on Empire. You contradict yourself in the most frustrating of ways, you concern yourself with anything but the result, the justification of each and every statement made within these promotional videos. You ask and prod with your stick, and your mouth falls open with shock when I retaliate. Yes, I commend and hold my hands in high applause at your acknowledgement that Empire is somewhat different, however I don't fall under this illusion that you are the propaganda, the cause, behind the aftermath, relating your winning streak to the women who I mentioned earlier, it just has no relevance to the points that I initially made. I fail to concern myself with others unlike yourself, naturally a selfish streak runs throughout me, regardless of what you consider or assert, all that matters is you and I are going to beat in the ring, and regrettably for you, I am going to decimate you. ''

'' I'm well aware that you and I have never fought previously, but again I must stress you're giving yourself far too much appreciation and gratitude for things you have played little part in. Empire upon a spectrum holds far more colours than the ones you and I represent, we can splash and paint across the canvas, but over twenty other women will be holding brushes, with their own idealistic views and concepts, and ultimately numbers will outmuscle your own achievements and standards, no matter how much grip your shoes hold against the flooring. You seem to believe that you are the second coming based off a minuscule arrangement of matches, if you held a plethora of undeniable victories, clean victories I stress, then perhaps I would look at you with some more enthusiasm rather than the emotionless visage I hold without expression. There's little reason for me to deny you are conjuring up speech, that you're raising your megaphone to the masses, and gaining momentum and relevancy with each victory you attain, I consider facts and statistics and have already referenced that it's, to an extent, impressive that you hold a win over our current primary champion. You seem to have constructed this masquerade that you hold far more importance to not only me, but to Elite Answers Wrestling as a spectacle and the truth is, you do not. I am not contradicting the truth, you're talented, I don't recall ever professing that you are not. I hold no ill intent to nullify or invalidate your achievements, when I illustrate my opinions on talent and athletic excellence within your division your name places quite highly. But at the peak, the top of the hierarchy, my name exists. You're correct when you say you're an expert at manipulation, for I am sure all will listen to your words and consider that perhaps I am underestimating your achievements, your calibre of aptitude. On the contrary, it's plausible you're stating sentences that you'll fail to bring justification to when placed within a ring with me. You're selling yourself a story, portraying a picture within a frame you'll fail to match. I never said you're bad, Chelsea, but as I strike you from this fantasists dream you operate in, and place you within the depths of reality, you'll quickly come to realise I am superior. ''

'' Criticise my use of the suplex however you wish, it still remains as the most devastating within my arsenal. It's somewhat ironic that you use the word tactician, and then the next sentence disparage a strategy which has brought more success to my feet than your eyes could ever witness within one shot. I didn't ask who you have faced, I do not care for your constant namedrops and relations to the past, all that matters is the present, when I am facing against you, our eyes matching and your cold glance meeting my fiery own, let me be the one to disclose that I will not be considering in the remnants of my mind, oh, she beat Stephanie Matsuda a month ago, I better be frightened. I really congratulate you for once again mentioning that you're a clever girl, Chelsea, the first forty times you have done so have not driven the point home, so I'm appreciative you took the time to remind me yet again. The words intelligence and beaten should only exist as a paramount, within the same sentence structure, if you are capable of circumventing each and every woman you've ever heard the name of. This is not the case with me, regardless of how many names you drop, how many validations you attempt to offer up to me, I shall dismiss them with a turn of the head. I am not unprepared for you, I am not stubborn. If I wished to I would have a research team within my contacts, feeding me constant information as I personally, within my palms, consider the analytics that I have been presented. The point I am demonstrating is I don't need to do that to vanquish you. You reiterate this same point, yet I have to continue preaching that a fine line exists, differentiates, underselling your opposition and holding much confidence within yourself. I am going to beat you because I am better to you, superior within every field. I do not need to spend time in figuring out what results and conclusions lead to this statement. Be it pound for pound, inch by inch, I am one of the best female athletes of all time, I am a former Vixens World Champion, something the majority of females you have faced cannot claim. I am the leader of the revolution, I am the true spark, a dominant force applied to a path of revenge is a firestorm you should not antagonise, Chelsea, and a fatal error you have made is continuing to insist that I am misjudging your strength, and under emphasising your ability. This is not the truth, you continue to profess you're mentally more capable than I, but the moment I slither my hands around your waist, assert you high into the air before drilling you onto your head with a critical movement, all this intelligence becomes harder to grasp, all this pressure you are feeling strikes at the level of opportunity. It's well and good stating you're a tactician, however no battlefield is prepared for what I am going to bring within my physical capabilities towards you within our match. I'm not stating it's impossible for you, neither am I stating I'm going to terminate your existence. I am not a machine, I am a human and I have flaws, what I am enunciating to you, is that it is highly, ever so highly unlikely. Whilst you sit on your stool, posing for the camera I am training, I am working on my endurance, my focus, my core. When I state certain things, I do so under the influence that the training I complete and participate in is like no other. I'm not ignoring the things you have done, I just really have lost the will to care, when you evidence different points with the same result on a constant basis, my attention tends to fall elsewhere. I have gone through turmoil that is indescribable. Told by the closest people I know that no way ends with success relating to my name, that all barriers I have previously smashed through have regenerated, and will never break again. The care and compassion I showed for this business was incinerated the moment somebody I considered a close friend told me to leave Elite Answers Wrestling forever. Each and every woman out there, names you have faced, names you have mentioned, turned their back on me. They left me in the shadows, in irrelevancy, in the bitter and ruthless cold as they sipped on hot chocolate and laughed about my name. Fire burned throughout my core, eliminating any positive feelings I had towards this industry and the new world, the revolution that I created was manipulated and twisted by women, no, bitches, such as yourself. I am finding it incredibly frustrating you stress and imply you're a manipulator, you're this impossible chess mistress that is untouchable in terms of intelligence quotient. Attempt to outmanoeuvre me and I will scorch you, I will eradicate you, my muscles are bound with titanium and conflagration rips through my bones. A wasteland exists within me, and the frustration and violence my body and mind have suffered can only be concentrated and explored within the ring. You are not facing a champion who has little to worry about concerning your name. I am no Stephanie, no Aria, I am Sheridan Elsa fucking Müller and the moment you try to, air quotations, manipulate me, within that ring, I will tear your arm off and made your skin run crimson. I am not going to fall to you, perhaps you will steady me, rock me onto a sole kneecap, but I will revitalise, I will continue to fight, without a hesitation, with zero doubt resonating within me. I have climbed mountains and accomplished the impossible to have my name situated with this brand once more, and I can deliver the delightful news to you that your constant boasts of intelligence will not prevent me from accomplishing retaliation and vengeance, associated with each and every miststück competing the same night as us. ''

'' It's all well and good to proclaim you don't affiliate with my problems. How would you, bearing in mind that you are somebody new to our industry, or this promotion to state the least. The moment you said the bad blood between myself and higher management is dry and lifeless, is where you slipped up. How contradicting of you, to speak on such matters you have no idea about, you've never felt the betrayal I have, from an illustrative, fantasist perception, imagine forging an arrow, handing it to your child and turning your back for a fraction of a second, only to have that very arrow pierce your shoulderblade and rip through your heart. Our worlds are quite different, evidenced from your modelling shoots, so perhaps consider somebody stealing your lipgloss, or a photographer criticising your poses. Shattering, is it not? I could stand and speak with you for hours about this situation, and I acknowledge that I would be incapable of finding the correct words to describe my situation, the anguish I was sent through without hesitation. I was a sacrifice, bound and gagged, thrown overboard, with zero exception of my name ever being mentioned again. The blood that currently seeps from the cuts across my form, fresh as water from the peak of the mountain, is the correct alignment to address towards my feelings for those who betrayed me. Emotions run ripe within me, my skin shakes with uncontrollable anger, my fists clench to the point my knuckles crack from the pressure I assert, and my fingertips bend to positions that are unnatural. It's quite hypocritical for somebody of your tenure to comment upon things you know little about. As a matter of fact, you signed with this promotion two weeks after my firing. So how dare you have the audacity to cry about how I have not acknowledged your past victories, or bothered to research anything about you besides the point you perhaps may be somewhat clever, and then make your next point stating and ranting, arguing with me over the fact of my firing, when you were not there to witness it. This is without a doubt the most hypocritical thing, frustrating thing, you have presented to me yet. If you're going to become offended at my lack of cares for your win over Kimi Hendrix or whatever she is called, then please, consider that you are firing the same ammunition that I am, the only thing that separates our assertions is that at least I acknowledge I don't much care, as opposed to crying about war whilst steadying your gun. It's the same as this superiority complex you insist that I have. I state I am superior for I know it to be true, through physical dominance, past and present performance, validation I bring to each point I make. I'll happily evidence why I am a superior athlete the moment you step into the battlefield with me, but you simply cannot whine about me asserting such, and then explain how you're smarter than me due to your manipulative ways. About how you hold authority over my intelligence, in comparison to yours. You do not have me stunned or shook, squirming through your points, the more you speak the more length is explored within my yawns, and the more frustration grows within my expression. Claim to be whatever you want Chelsea, just don't call for a foul when I don't acknowledge it with absolute seriousness. You are attempting to rationalise mind games within a competitive sport, such a tactic might work when we are situated in front of our cameras, promoting our strengths and, in your case, multiple weaknesses, but I will state this again, physical domination is going to render your intelligence masquerading as useless. You can play fox all you wish, consider yourself a level above me in terms of qualifications and mental capacity, and I am happy to admit to you I am driven by emotions and lust for retaliation, but the fact of the matter is, you are holding your vehemence against my own, and woefully your water pistol does not fire further than my rifle. ''

'' ''God, I hate to bring up Aria again.'' You're fooling nobody with that statement Chelsea, literally not a single eye batted when you mentioned her name once again. You say it is not your fault I remind you of her, but surely it is, for this is the first time I have ever heard such an astounding thing, and I have competed against far more names than you, and yet a single female or male up to this sole day has failed to mention such. I'm beginning to sketch a theory that you've reached a point of complete and unrestrained delusion. I won't point out the obvious differences between Aria and myself, anybody with vision that is not darkened should be able to figure such things out. We hold close to zero similarities within appearance, personality and speech. She was not raised in Munich, the same is stated for myself and California. The moment you compared me to Aria I contemplated ending my life out of pure amusement, it brought a smile to my face that others have failed to do. I had to take a moment, but then I heard your next point and I really had to contain my laughter. I am making you famous. I am the reason you are in the main event. If not for myself you would be either off the card, or facing the likes of the two women you stated earlier, perhaps close to the main event, but never touching. My name holds more meaning and fear than anything you could muster up whilst facing me on Thursday. People are not purchasing tickets as we speak to witness the undisputed, undefeated Chelsea Crowe work her mental magic against yours truly. It does not work like this. My return spikes ratings. It turns heads and leaves mouths agape. The connotations that lie within each letter of my name hold more relevance and attention than any wordplay or sentence structure you could phrase or state. It is just the truth, you can see my words as deception, or a challenge, take it with offence or with a shrug it makes no difference to me, you ricochet my claims by stating, I'm not here because of you, an then offering little else than a simple decline. When I stress that validation is important to myself, this is a prime example. You are batting away my words by simply shaking your head and plugging your ears, and then you continue to tilt your head with curiosity and wonder why I am not taking you seriously. Individuals purchase tickets to athletic combat to witness competitors such as myself. They do not spend their money to watch you roll on your back as a woman knocks herself unconscious. Conceivably, you make a very fair point. Emotions cloud judgement, they block vision and fog the mind. I am a woman who stated incredibly similar words at one stage of my life. But you also took the words I can use to deflect a pint for me. My emotions can drive me to success, they can surpass a simple, emotionless human mind and restrict access for anybody else, emotions could be the pinpoint, the assurance, that I always hold a competitive, sharpened edge, this thirst I have, this drive and determination, it will send me into a mode of competitiveness that even I am excited for. I have no time for insecurity. I have never once stated I am the reason for my downfall. I would not be establishing the word superiority with my points if I had these conditions attached to my thought process. Nothing you can do shall bring my confidence down. You keep insisting you're a master of deception, something that I have never witnessed before, and then cry impossible when I counter such with my own claims of the unknown. Your speeches are far too inconsistent and conflicting. You hold yourself in a higher position than you do I, you assert rules that you constantly break, but call me out for each and every step I place incorrectly. This constant, repetitive, incongruous speech needs to stop, the absolute peak of your fallacious nature needs to end. You're no trickster, Chelsea, you're just a woman with a bedsheet on pretending to be a ghost. But you do not fool me, perhaps you spooked Aria with your words of wisdom, but I reciprocate with, and I know you adore this word, evidence. I think a key thing that shows how different you and I are, is that when I state something, I back my thoughts up with verification, it's sad I cannot authenticate the same for you. ''

'' I can sympathise with you for one thing, you seem to fail to understand that me addressing myself as the Last Vixen, it is not a gimmick. It is not a catch phrase, neither is it a lifestyle. It's quote genuine and sincere. The truth is Chelsea I do not care for others opinions of me. I am not here to prove to the world I am capable to be a wrestler, that I am well in spirit and can be a functioning member of society. I hold no hope for what people say about me, people say many things, which are conflicting and hypocritical. My ambitions are to massacre those to wronged me. When I say I do not care for them, I do not care for their reactions, their opinions, whatever words they wish to state to me, to defend their actions in firing me. My expression will not change, as I hold my form over them, as I press my knife against their throat and commit a massacre. As the incineration which has grown within me, melting down the barriers of my carcass, flows throughout them and eradicates their insides, blood running from their skin, I will not bat an eye. The fall of my beautiful world, the crashing of the stars, burning against my skin as I was extradited, these are the only feelings I am capable of corresponding to. If people wish to disrespect the future, then I must show them their true reality. I am the Last Vixens World Champion, the cause for revolution and the engineer of change, I will validate myself right within time, I will feel vindicated and refreshed, with each body I beat and submit, hopefully the feeling of ember pressing against my thoughts will dissipate. I never claimed to be adapting, I am reverting, reverting to a time where I was the figurehead, where I was the queen. This world is fuelled by false prophets, and hands orchestrated with narcissism and corruption. I will burn through this world without a doubt in my mind, and shall not cease until I have what is rightfully mine, and all those who wronged me shall never do so again. I wouldn't expect you to understand Chelsea, you are ignorant, and far more concerned with the little picture. A perfect perception of a generic Vixen, not a different breed such as myself. You're an opportunist, I am understanding of this, but these words you use to describe yourself, they hold no weight for what you will experience in the ring. In some cases, the prey will find themselves in a situation to take down the predator, yet on the contrary to this, the amount of times that suffices, when compared to how many times the predators mauls the pray, you then have a more realistic outset for our match, and the result that shall take place within the same point. You maintain that you must be crawling beneath my skin for I continue to reply, yet if I show you a mirror, and explain to you how, you are also also replying to me, you shall shriek and become staggered. You fail to realise the majority of what you say, I could literally repeat every single word and you would feel scandalised and distressed. You believe you are better than me for stating the obvious. Oh, I bet if I mention I am arguing with Sheridan she'll become insecure. Your words do not irritate me, it's the false belief and drive behind it. I believe I mentioned it a day or two ago, your opinions which you hold so highly are heavily misdirected. Maybe the reason I am in the main event is because I whine? Oh Chelsea, if the general manager concerned herself with whining Haruna would be a multiple time World Champion. If they wished to not deal with my temper tantrums, I would not be here right now, they could have easily kept me fired, but they begged me to return, they needed me. I was invited back, they pleaded with me, it was not the other way around. I just hope that you, an employee of two months, come to realise soon that you speak of things you know nothing about. You're under this illusion that, because you have a few wins streaked against your face, you're untouchable, unrivalled, that you're the reason you're at the peak, and just because you've been more attentive and active within this brand as of late, it automatically assures everything you say is automatically correct. You place false personifications and establish constant lies in full confidence, it's unfortunate you fail to see how incorrectly you view me. I believe if anything, having emotions corresponding throughout my system is a positive, it does not hold me back, in the past I have been sheltered, attentive, like a machine and very efficient, but it also withed me from doing what was necessary in certain cases, you cannot alter a plan when in a mode of productivity, I held full confidence at certain times and faltered for it. I had my sights honed on improving those around me, to a competitive standard. These feelings of helping others have faded, dissipated, vanished. There will be no concrete to break the fall of those who I annihilate, only a bottomless pit of irrelevancy, scorched, heated, vanquished. I will liberate my form from xenophobia and embarrassment. I will validate and justify this passion for vengeance that coruscates throughout me. I am engineering and illustrating a future for myself, a world where all bow at my feet, as I drink their blood from a golden chalice. The words improvement, equality, fairness, they do not exist in this world. Emotions may be whirling throughout my head however they also reverberate with every punch, elbow, kick and knee I throw. No pressure more mighty exists than a woman who is scorned. The intensity that my blood flares shall easily disseminate the venom you inflict upon me. ''

Sheridan cocks a brow, her thumb pressing against the button which sends the scene to an end.

'' I am without a shadow of doubt, the hardest working individual this continent has ever laid eyes upon. The moment I illustrated my signature across the lines instilled within my contract, I came into Elite Answers Wrestling with compassion, resolve and determination. Attributes and personality traits that no other male or female can claim, through the most compact of whispers, or the most frightening of bellows, that they have matched. From an aerobic endurance viewpoint it would be fallacious to state anybody can match me. I am five feet, seven inches of sculpted, flawless, golden haired athlete. I am the personification of domination, superiority and command. A phenomenon, a once in a lifetime athlete and I prove this every single night when I slide betwixt the ropes, and vanquish all who stand before me. My lips are curved with a smile of confidence, drooling from the shape of my pouted pair and sketched within my skin. My fingertips clutched against my palm, gloves pressing against the length of my hand. I deconstruct an opponent with technical ascendancy, authority which is unrivalled within this sport. My opponent claims that her mind will match my physical prowess, my somatic demand that I address within the ring that few have answers for, and it's all well and good stating and asserting such a point whilst relaxed within your home. I am unsure of if Chelsea shall be able to handle the pressure of sharing and performing in a wrestling battle against someone of my prestige, somebody of my honed ability, talent of athletic excellence that, across the four continents I have performed across, nobody can deny is scented and powerful. Now that I ponder across this point, I believe she severely underestimates and holds no light to my intelligence. She acts as if I am all muscle, as if I am a bulldozer incapable of turning upon my heel, a monster who is shortsighted and can be taken down with tactical ease. This is not the case, I am not like any other female she has come across, I am sure she will state the same however there's a margin of difference between saying these things after two months of being beneath the Elite Answers Wrestling banner, and pressing your heels into the ground for two years. I am a revolutionist, I believe it is worth acknowledging this point to rationalise that I am indeed more intelligent than Chelsea demands of me. I entered this promotion with a plan, a plan to revolutionise the world and change how female athletes are personified throughout the harsh lens of the critics. With sunlight blistering my skin, bruises flashing across my carcass, I illustrated blueprints into the confines of my skin, and delivered on my promises. I am an engineer of change, a woman with more to offer to the battlefield than muscle, as a matter of fact, I consider my intelligence my strongest component. I managed to outmanoeuvre an entire corporate branch, individuals who had set aside their differences, aimed their bows and placed multiple shots upon my back. They considered me dead, eradicated, extradited from the promotion, where they would no longer have to deal with my arrogance, my attitude, my athletic ability. I triumphed their imperialism, as the rubble and mud fell over my coffin, I punched and kicked through the barren, hardened wood of my shell and revitalised my soul, my body. I bought a knife to the throats of authority, the imperialism which had left me feeling sorry for myself, and I slit without a moment of hesitation, as blood ran from their throats, across the blade I had just pressed against their skin, a thirst for vengeance and revenge ran rampant throughout me. Shaking my skin, boiling my blood, making my fingernails find my palms and pressing with such a force as to leave permanent scars. I am a tactician, a strategist, I deploy myself in the worst of situations, snarky, murderous conditions and yet vanquish without a trace of defeat upon my form. I have outlasted and beaten most, if not all credible names throughout the female sex, and yet you attempt to justify your wits and intelligence to me with one incident, across the spectrum of a few months, if not weeks. It really is a poor game plan for you Chelsea, I must admit, you claim all these things, that you are an artist of the canvas, that you are going to psychologically break me down, bend me to my limits before annihilating my form and continuing your hot streak of dominance, and yet, I do not find myself threatened. You act in shock as I expose your lack of talent, your lack of evidence to influence the words you are stating, but to me it is just the obvious. You are inflating a balloon that you do not have the air for. Your cheeks are flush with tiredness, red with frustration, and instead of bringing maximum efficiency to said balloon, it continues to deflate in front of your very eyes, and yet you portray this as an achievement, as an accomplishment in which I should stagger back from and become in a state of fright. My name is a physical and mental endurance for some individuals, their stomach turns the moment they hear it, they wake up in anguish at my name, hoping to deliberately never cross my path again. I am much more than a catchphrase, far more than a simple lifestyle in which I personified myself upon, I am personality fuelled with arrogance, a woman who will never acknowledge your positives even if you flashed them in front of my face, and hit me upon the nose with them until it bled with black blood. I do not believe you're incompetent Chelsea, and for a second I consider that you could be the hardest challenge I have ever faced, and if we were basing my opinions on your speeches alone it would be portrayed as such. I don't doubt you whatsoever, but I just have the utmost confidence in my own abilities. I have agendas, motivations, and points that I will continue to outmanoeuvre and work overtime to achieve, my fingers do not rest, my lips do not twitch, my form shall not stop working, the mechanical engineering flowing throughout my system shall not end until I have anticipated, achieved and calculated what I need to do and perform such to efficient fruition. I was wronged against, and you could consider it that I am here whining and complaining about such, yet I feel no tears welling within my eyes, I am far past that point. I do not feel discriminated against to the point of complaint, I feel as if I have been pushed to a point, a point of little return, and I will not stop climbing and clawing until all those who pushed at my back before I feel over the edge of the plank, are piled up, tyrannised and vanquished, lifeless from my touch. Little annoys me more than incompetence, and it is unfortunate that beyond yourself, so many upon our brand are fuelled to the brim by it, as if whilst I drink the most nutritious of drinks, they are splashing around in a pool of absolute cancer, portraying their views to a brick wall and drinking in this fluid that permanently shuts down their thoughts of improvement. Their stability irks me, their speech frustrates me. I grow rife and vindicated with every word you, or another states. As a visionary, I pictured a world much better than the conditions we currently perform in, and whilst I exceeded in demands and did what was asked of me, others fell flat on their faces, but did not mind as they had this arrogance that being content was acceptable. As my lifestyle peaked, as I held the throne, zero motivation ran through others, instead of relying on their talents and abilities, they ignited gang warfare, turned the lights black and pressed me off my peak and into the shallow depths below. When you state I consider myself better than those around me, I find it hard to deny such for it is the truth. I am better on a physical, mental and performance level. Through endurance to individualistic thoughts I am superior, and I shall rationalise such a point when you and I soon meet in the ring. There is a reason I am considered more arrogance than most, more hated and thought of as intolerable. My emotions have escalated and strengthens, my eagerness and appetite to deliver fatal massacres to those who contributed to my fall into darkness has charged and fortified with passion and rage. I did not return to lose, Chelsea, if I fell at the first hurdle I am unsure of how such would affect my lonely convictions. You are not meeting a champion, you are battling, messing with a woman who has very little to lose. An individual whose reputation stretches and develops with every passing moment. Erratic and bouncing with desperation to prove, yet a lack of care to perform. I hold no mercy for women like you, I have zero aspirations to nurture you and invite you to my perfect world. I am stripping and decimating every last touch of my perfect reality, your name has the unfortunate illustration of being the first I subjugate. ''

"“I took the basic template that is Deadpool and moulded the rest of the Ryan Wilson show into my own thing.” Did you though? Is that what you call it? Because from the outside looking in, it doesn’t look like you’ve moulded it into your own identity at all. It just looks like you took the character of Deadpool and changed the name from Wade Wilson to Ryan Wilson and donned a different suit. My, how creative you are. When you’ve taken every mannerism of the character but change its name, it doesn’t make it a completely fresh idea, it’s merely recycled. And poorly at that. I don’t know how many people you think point you out and go “wow, what a creative and original act that Ryan Wilson has”, but I assure you it is a drastically lower number than you think. I know people have pointed you out and said “Man, what an annoying Deadpool parody”, and I know it because I am one of the many. Let’s not pretend this is a genius act that you’ve come up with that has a lot of layers to it -- it’s just copy and paste Deadpool with a tweak or two. I have exposed every fallacy, every bit of faulty reasoning you have on the subject, and it doesn’t change a thing. You’re a novice playing dress up, and the proof behind that has been piling up for months now. You haven’t been called up because you’re some social media dynamo, or charismatic speaker or even if we’re being honest all that talented as a wrestler -- you simply did your time on NEO and someone had to take you and Azrael. The chips just happened to land on Voltage. You have brought the Ryan Wilson show to the set of the El Ironishow (guest starring Finnegan Wakefield) and I can assure you that you’re not being as warmly received. But since you claim to enjoy crafting and creating, we’re coming up to that time of year when you can ditch the stale tribute act and come into the new year with a fresh coat of paint. With your own identities for a change. Because your gimmicks might have been shit hot when the standards were much lower on NEO, but now it’s time to put on your collective big boy pants and adapt to the new environment you find yourselves in. Because if you walk these halls trying to step on toes and annoy the hungry animals while they are out of their cage, your time on Voltage will not be a pleasant one or one with longevity.

In all honesty, my patience has been worn too thin to care whether or not you both decide to keep walking this path. If you both wish to choose to continue being mediocre parodies of comic book characters, by all means, continue as it is no skin off my nose. Just know when it comes to facing the best this company has to offer, these acts won’t cut the mustard. If you both desire to fall at the feet of the elite, keeping this idiotic mentality is pretty much par for the course. Once again, I am not underestimating yourself or Azrael, you both just underperform. If you both have been hiding some kind of secret skills that you haven’t shown us yet, I would've expected you to do so now seeing as you’re trying to make a good first impression. Although you’ve stepped up your game an iota, Wilson, your partner hasn’t. He’s still talking about god knows what, in a dialect impossible to comprehend to the human race and a logic to match. If your motive is solely because you’re here to solely have fun, you’re not going to go all that far. It is not like Ironico or myself are against the idea of having fun, quite the opposite actually. Hell, this team was formed for the sole idea of having fun while collaborating, moving forward and not looking back. We share pints, play some parlor games, hell we can play a very competitive game of soccer. This business would be very monotonous if we didn’t have our fair share of fun along the way, but we know when it’s time to flick that switch. I’ll even admit to have at one point thought the same things about Ironico as I had thought about you. I thought he was just a silly neerdowell who is merely treading water. I thought he was here to simply rub people the wrong way. The key difference between the two of you and him though? He proved me wrong. He showed me some damn impressive fighting spirit, some drive and some ambition and when it comes to partners, I don’t think I could have paired with anyone better.

When it comes to the teams we’ve faced, including Di Consentes, you both just aren’t on par with the teams we’ve faced up to this point. We’ve faced some of the best wrestlers on this roster, former and current champions alike, and now we’re kind of just scrapping the bottom of the Tag Team Grand Prix barrell for what is left. It’s not a very impressive scrapping, but who knows, you might surprise us. Beating us though is an impossibility, as we’ve got all the drive in the world to continue showing the world that We Are The Bollocks are the future Tag Team Champions of the World. We’ve been looked down on, but we’ve gone out of our way to prove every naysayer wrong. Basically, a loss this week is out of the question and the realm of possibility. We’ve seen what is beyond the horizon and it has lured us in. So since the two of you are so asphyxiated with our nationality, allow me to share an English saying with the both of you as a form of advice, something that both Ironico and myself believe in. Chat shit, get banged. And Ironico and I, we don’t chat shit, we don’t even chat bollocks. We ARE The Bollocks!"

Empire Promo #1

“Song and Dance”

'' You might want to evaluate how much alcohol you're asphyxiating against your larynx, for it seems your memories of my repatriation are heavily distorted and disfigured. I've been extradited for seventy days, not seven months, there's little point in attempting to convince me the landscapes of the Empire regime have altered and compressed to the point they're unrecognisable in the space of little more than two months. I insist you stop masquerading as some untouchable, sanctimonious archangel, who at the touch of a fingertip has transformed the foundations I engineered myself with so much effect that I would be incapable of recognising them. You've won four matches, I don't even consider your, and I state this whilst gesturing quotations, win against Aria as a victory. To my knowledge three victories and your opposition knocking themselves out does not formulate into a woman that is unrivalled in terms of wrestling ability. Perhaps you wish to educate me through your superior brilliance however I'm somewhat certain I've arched my back, plucked the bow and pierced your statements with a sharpened tip. It is true that when I was extradited, and those who thrived underneath the interpretations I had instilled at the paramount of this division, that I felt somewhat sad about it. I felt the corners of my cherry stained lips twitch, muscles constricting and a small pout pressing against the plumpness of my painted pair. My heart shattered with blackness and was moulded through ember. Infused and restored with far more strength than I initially anticipated. Emotions run rampant throughout my veins, circulating against this very heart, fuelling from the tips of my toes to the nerves within my neck. I sharpen my claws and contemplate a massacre with delightful anticipation, glee that cannot be matched. I've never claimed to be an unstoppable beast, I'll happily run you through every loss I have suffered, from Ares Vendetta to Veena Adams, there's little point in me influencing my record to the levels of a whole three match victory streak, I'm honestly sorry that my unparalleled career is no match for your nicely stuck together run of a whole, amassed, three victories, how dare I consider myself on your level. I claimed I am superior to you and such a statement I cannot validate until we meet a glare within the ring, however I can inform you that I am a changed woman. You might consider me reverting back to an archaic era of wrestling, yet fail to estimate just why I might have embraced the frozen landscape we left behind more than a year ago. You ghosted around possibilities, perhaps I am attempting to recapture my glory days, maybe I am trying to stay relevant, however it is much more psychological than that, a term you gloss over with pretty, delicate glistening gloss. You wish to bring up intelligence, but fail to acknowledge that in seventy days, I went from being thrown out of the door to an uproar of drinking and celebration, to returning to an annihilated slaughter, with those who clasped onto the collar of my leather jacket as they launched me to the wolves, clasping their palms together and begging me to return this brand to liberation. You're absolutely correct in stating that mental capability triumphs, or at least equals, physical prowess, yet just because I state I am going to torrent the sensations flowing throughout my knuckles into leaving them imprinted as bruises across your skin, it does not mean I am not capable of intelligent thought. You can happily assert whilst sipping on your alcoholic beverage that you are going to muscle through me with psychological, merciless toughness, yet you cannot justify these words until you slither betwixt the ropes, and press your nose against mine once we meet within the ring. It's all well making statements whilst seated, I can do nothing but counter your words and if I attempted to twist and illustrate them then that would make me nothing more than a exterior illusion. Under the contemplation that you shall match my intelligence, it shall be fun and amusing to cock my brow and really press against the idea, this interpretation, of you manipulating the most outspoken woman throughout this continent. I am blunt and harsh without hesitation. Fire burns throughout my system yet icicles shoot from my breath. My cranium is defended with titanium and toughness that no woman or man can move. Mountains upon mountains engineered and structured so that your intelligence shall never crush me. I'll admit to judging you for face value, why would I waste time in attempting to deconstruct the woman within the body and endeavour upon experimenting with your mental capabilities when I can run through your soul with athletic dominance and vengeance shadowing every physical muscle I press into work. It takes little hesitation for me to acknowledge you are a woman who holds a victory over our current Women's World Champion. But you state such with so much confidence, that you would believe Aria has never lost a match before such. You've portrayed a woman knocking her temple against an announcers table, as you ripping into her throat, tearing out her trachea, and speaking in colloquial terms as the masses celebrate you bringing an end to her life. Aria Jaxon is no goliath, she's a fierce competitor yet to illustrate her as untouchable is a silly, ignorant thing to do, especially to a woman who has also had the pleasure of beating Aria, and I can happily tell you with enthusiasm dripping from my lips that I didn't do so through her running her forehead into a table. You have taken the act of luring a woman in, and moving yourself off a table as winning a revolution, or overthrowing a government who punished an entire race, these points cannot be compared. I am a strategist, a revolutionist, a tactician who is unmatched upon the battlefield and spoken about through trembling whispers out of it. I can guarantee you when we meet face to face I shall be your toughest challenge, the woman who shall hand you your first loss within this promotion, and perhaps I will kick, punch and suplex you from the painted skies of your fantasy world, into the brisk, harsh reality that I shall then burn through with unrivalled momentum. I am a woman who prides herself upon her appearance, acuity and ability, and I have you held down and forced into irrelevancy in all three of those categories. You miscalculate my prowess whilst overselling your importance to the blueprints I shall embellish and elucidate. You can assert and declare that I blunder and trip upon my own wrestling boots through judging you from what I see, you insist on continuing to exchange and promote this concept of a darkness laying beneath your skin, ready to strike at my incompetence. You keep prodding at the fact that you are a threat, a woman who I should analyse with concern, yet have zero evidence to press against these rationalisations. You've reached a conclusion based off what you have done in the past, and not what you are about to assert yourself against. You hold a plastered, cocky, egotistical grin upon your face and it really makes me consider, I've admitted that I know little about you, I apologise that I don't think you're worth the time of me investing minutes exploring Chelsea Crowe's match history, but the truth is I value you as little more than a body to annihilate and retaliate against. You're in this spot because of my value and wrestling prestige. I am like no other within the containment of this wrestling ring, I will shatter you physically and mentally through systematic, methodical contemplating matched with a new found adoration of vengeance and vindictive calculations. I ask you pause on advertising this match based from your unrivalled, erudition of highbrow intellect, because the only reason your name has been inserted within this match, is as a woman who, admittedly yes is hot at the moment, yet is matching an individual who has little problem within crushing your flame, ending your spark, extinguishing your ambitions and throwing you overboard into a pitch blackness fuelled by frightened irrelevancy and zero hopes of liberation. You can phrase and reiterate that you're a genius beneath the skin, and that you'll present such evidence the moment that you gain a victory over me, and I'm not stating that such isn't impossible, it's just highly unlikely. People shall read your confidence and allegations and throw their shoulders up to shrug, their eyes will narrow and they'll perhaps consider it for a second, but that very thought, that small indecency floating throughout their mind, it is quickly extinguished and they brush it off, not because you're not brilliant, but purely existing upon the fact that I am superior. A moment shall not come where I consider wrestling too easy, I won't let my resilience drop for a second, you shall not be presented with the opportunities that Aria and your past opposition have handed you wrapped in a pretty peach bow. I bring an intensity you could not conjure up imagining, it's indescribable through words, unmatched and unavailable to contemplate through that apparently aesthetically superior mind of yours. It really makes me press my fingernails into my palms watching as you constantly recycle the same sentences throughout different synonyms and mantras, it feels as if the same point is being pushed against my skin and every time I bat it away back to the crowd, you spend the time in searching and exploring for another way to state the same point, that regardless of everything I utter, every accolade you cannot hold a light to, every sole accomplishment I have achieved for myself, my peers and females within a male dominated industry as a whole, you consider that you're going to topple me purely based on the fact that you're smarter than me, something you have proved with no validation or relevancy other than the fact you can gargle red wine, and you scored an easily illustrated victory against a woman who happened to have a misjudgement within her brain and underestimated you. It is not going to happen, you are not going to decipher and explicate my mental capacity, before exploiting my physical prowess and using it for your own advantage. You wish to state I believe I am a level above you, I would rather be filled with confidence, than comparing my opponents within the future to those within my past. It's a fair point of validation, but applying what has worked against other individuals to an efficient being such as myself, your words are paper and your speech becomes muted. I am a different breed, a different species, I am not a typical wrestling, I hold more passion for retaliation and a burning desire to obliterate and annihilate to the point that I will break the unspeakable without a second thought, and state things that leaves masses in a state of absolute disbelief. My wrestling capabilities are honed to the point of no mistake, machine like. Well done for outwitting Aria Jaxon, a woman who thinks Cailin Dillon is on maternity leave. You can argue that I am making the same mistake she made, but to retaliate against this you're falling into the same line that every other individual does when speaking my name, you compare me to other people, in an attempt to justify the fact you're going to beat me, and I could go into precise detail as to why such is not going to happen, but it's far easier, and less strain upon my larynx, to state that you're just unknowing of the impact and influence I will have upon your mind and body once the timekeeper rings the bell, the referee jolts his arms down, and the crowd flares up for their resident wrestling goddess. I state that I adore proving myself correct because it's an absolute, a statistic that has never failed me. The fact alone I have been brought back from the dead, essentially, should validate to you that I am intelligent, and an excellent judge of character, I can validate this also. I state things about the likes of Kendra Shamez, Madison Kaline, Cailin Dillon, Alexis Diemos, females who I have had notorious problems with in the past, females who I have been punished for, for being outspoken against, and again I stress to you to pick up a pair of binoculars, and identify where on earth they are. You cannot, for I was outspoken against them, and during the process of time, my words were validated, and they were removed from my sight as the statements which were previously redacted are thrown under the spotlight, and craved for with the flash of a camera and the push of a microphone. I stated I dislike proving people wrong, but the truth is I really don't have an opinion upon it, you can consider that you're going to take advantage of whatever typical personality trait you can identify from within my words, but the facts are I really do not have time to concern myself with what you are going to do, I hold no interest in batting against your thoughts and statements, for I hold far too much belief within my own progression and confidence. Your words mean nothing to me, I sit here applying lip balm as your sentences are so flavourless and dry. I sigh and rub my eyes, a yawn escapes and emits into the fresh air, is that Chelsea Crowe stating she's a clever human being once again? The world falls under a deep sleep of anything but shock. Oh, perhaps her next paragraph shall offer some new validation to her opinions, but wait, no! It's only Aria's name being brought into the conversation once again, literally the only proof she has of being a competent athlete and tactician, I had to stagger back for a moment there, my palm found my ribcage, I almost had heart palpitations at the consideration of something original spouting from your lips but yet again you fail to rationalise or leave an impact with the many sentences you sprawl from your lips in a confounded mess, and hope for me to construct any sort of threat from dry, ghastly implications. It's really beginning to frustrate me that you're so oblivious to the mental constrains that I have been forced to perform through. I'll educate you on why I am the Last Vixen. When I arrived to Elite Answers Wrestling, I saw a bleak future for the females within this promotion. You view Aria quite lowly, so I'm sure you'll shake your head somewhat to the idea that she was the reigning Empress Of Elite at the time. I believe Eris LeCava was champion, that Haruna Sakazaki was relevant, we were being thrown from one Friday Night, to the next Sunday, to a Saturday and back to a Friday again. Nobody within management spared a thought for us, I'll justify this by saying no female was even within a position of power. We didn't have our own show, we were voiceless, told where to go by people with smug expressions and expected to salvage or accomplish anything throughout this time period of bleakness and cold conditions. Then the protagonist came along. That's me, by the way. I introduced a superior lifestyle, a condition that turned this coldness into a warm embrace, a hug. Social media whores were no longer validated, those who came within this promotion to earn their stripes along with bank account figures, they were phased out. People who considered the Specialists championship a relevant championship were outcasted. I transformed and elevated every single individual I met within a wrestling ring, I demonstrated and emitted a radiance, a light, that would find new confidence and belief for females within this industry. I won the Vixens Cup on my seventy second day within this promotion, beating Cameron Ella Ava and salvaging the match of the year whilst doing so. I engineered and transplanted a path to Empire, a place we could call our own, I was the revolutionist, the spark, I was the reason that all this happened. I worked without rest whilst carrying this entire division upon my spine, before dropping them off to slumber when my revolution was complete, and the lifestyle I spoke about being the peak, the flame, within the lantern. Pain For Pride Eight didn't matter the moment my signature was placed upon the contract. I reorganised and reconstructed every sole aspect of what it meant to be a female wrestler, a competitor, an athlete. If my superior lifestyle stood today, there would be no need for a woman like you competing on the brand that I founded. I didn't lead the Vixens, I ended them. My hard work, my drive and determination that is spoken of in such high regard was the engine of change. I again validate the fact I am intelligent whilst stating such, I endeavoured a movement that lead to the brand that we shall be performing of, and you believe you're upon my level and kicking me in the face because you've won four matches, regardless, you would believe that such work, such patience shown by a woman such as myself would be rewarded. I would be met with applause, sympathy, drive, honour. That my name would be held to a paramount, with torches lighting the umlaut above the u and the slithering of the s. No. Not even close. I was thrown away like a bloodied bandage, kicked off the top of the mountain, catapulted into the murky waters and expected to float, expected to not be changed. They trampled the Sheridan name with boots lit with gasoline, torched against my skin and set me ablaze. It was only two months ago that our dear general manager conspired against me, she smirked at the thought of never hearing my name again, and that was the day that the music died, that Sheridan Müller became irrelevant and that the wrestling industry would never speak of the departed ever again. You ask me about my story, and then criticise me for speaking of my lifestyle. They all drove me to the point of slitting my own throat, yet I shall take the knife and do the same action to all who contributed to the death of the superior lifestyle. It did not fail me, and I did not fail it. You did, not you specifically, but each and every woman you have claimed a victory against, every female you have spoken to, heard the name of, who has touched this industry, this promotion, over the space of the last six hundred and ninety days, has contributed to the demise of my superior lifestyle, and then they complain that Empire is not fair, it is not liberating, it is not efficient. This same exact month a year ago today we were competing alongside and outshining men thanks to the strain I put this division through, and now we're got our, and I say this with absolute sarcasm and frustration as my hands raise to use air quotations once more, own show, which nobody is going to bother purchasing considering the headlining act is a woman who runs into tables and her opponent being somebody who has failed to stay relevant for the past eighteen months. I am scorched, bruised, murky and burned, yet I am enlightened with revenge upon my mind and blood circulating throughout my veins with unmatched warmth, almost as if gasoline has been shoved down my throat, and this desire, this need for retaliation spikes and cuts against my bloodline. The old me and the Last Vixen are differentiated, I am no longer held back by attempting to salvage and improve, I have zero need to elevate and prosper, my intent is solely upon revenge, upon retribution, I am driven by emotions, not by improvement, and if the passion I have displayed is not enough to validate that to you, then there is little point in me contemplating and establishing my motivations with you for any second longer. ''

'' Your statement that Empire no longer needs me is without a doubt one of the most redundant and incompetent beliefs that I have ever had the unfortunate displeasure of hearing out of an individuals mouth. I've faced the likes of Amy-Jayne as well as Vanessa Holiday, and I can assure you that articulation has lower intelligence qualities than either of them. If Empire does not need me, explain why I was brought back, explain how I am competing within the main event. It's ever so silly to suggest something so bitter and manipulative when I am the reason you are competing under the brightest light within this promotion of this week. My need for peoples affirmations is gone, I no longer care for salvaging their qualities, and competing upon Empire with goodness flowing throughout my new sickened heart. My skin is stained with black marks, I will soon become the cancer that I wished to extinguish from this business. I am the Last Vixen, an eminence that cannot be slain or heightened, something that cannot be placed into any amount of words or statements. My ambitions are to reverse the twisted reality others have made my work, to torch every soul to their carcasses and incinerate every foundation touching the concept of being on Empire. Your phrase of calling Empire a monster is indeed something I attribute and relate to. Your continuation on insisting I am fresh with the idea of desperation in needing others to approve of me brings a smile to my lips, considering I was fired partially for being directly opposed to what most suggested. Personally, I just believe you're upset that I'm more jagged and jolted than you, perhaps you idolise and wish to attain my levels of hatred one day, regardless of how much eyeliner you apply, or lip gloss you press onto your thin lips, you shall never reach the heights of relevancy I gravitate towards my name. The impressions I leave are upon the highest of magnitudes, I need zero validation from others, I've directly dismissed practically every long-ranged shot you have fired which has wildly missed my armour so hopefully you understand this point now. I am not starting a pity party, I do not stand within the dark, red balloons highlighting the room as I prod my finger against the party hat I have risen from my mussy hair. I touch that same finger and scratch against the surface of your skin, incinerating every belief and ambition you have, what drives you I bend to my advantage, mentally and psychically eradicate and outmanoeuvre whatever hopes you have of matching me. I am the definition of a star, the personification of a spark, I am the epitome of what it means to be a Vixen, and I shall display that when we meet in the ring, and I smoulder your skin, discolour your hopes, and cauterise this fallacious, mythological perception that you're something more than a boring individual, sticking to the idea of performing as something else in a desperate attempt to validate herself. I have brought an execution to the old personality, which would have garnered some sympathy for the child playing dress up and pretentiously pretending to understand my concepts and thought patterns, I am not going to elevate you, neither shall I show mercy and compassion for your form, I will pulverise and kick at your organs without remorse, with violence shaking your ribcage, bringing revelations and shockwaves of pain flustering throughout your tendons and ligaments. You affirm the word fragile, I prefer to consider myself scorned. My insecurities are eliminated through a rifling demand for satisfaction and recrimination. Malevolence and animosity sprints across the lengths of my skeleton, irritating my spine and measuring upon my jawline. It's very unfortunate that we have to meet in these circumstances. You're a talented performer, I'll maybe doubt these words as they emit from my lips but you're not bad in any particle of the word. But I am superior, I am motivated, driven, and far more vitalised and untouchable within the ropes. A technical strategist, a powerful athlete, with excellence and endurance few can match. I don't rely on playing the victim and my opposition making fallacious errors to garner a victory, I vanquish and incinerate my opponents through command and ascendancy. There is no edge for me to fumble against, I am limitless within my conquering. You reiterate that you'll find a break and opportunistically reach for it, however my boot shall press against your face long before you have a chance to use your intelligence against my temple. I don't overemphasise your expertise and artistry, I simply hold a higher confidence in my own. I'll admit, the more you speak the more motivated I become in drilling your neck against the mat, and bringing a smile to twitch upon my cheeks as your collarbone smashes against the confines of your stomach, ricocheting against your skeleton. My arrogance shall not hold me back, it shall lead me to victory, and shall leave your mouth anticipative with an excuse to divulge, yet there is no reason as to why I'll eradicate you other than my superiority. ''

"I am going to be completely honest with you, Ryan. I didn’t get the impression that either of you were actually trying. From all I had been able to gather and make out from the inaugural idiotic ramblings we received from you and your buddy Azrael was anything but scathing. From what I collected, you want to get a New Breed Championship match someday down the line, and you think your feud with Alex Reynolds is your greatest claim to fame around the EAW locker room. If I took your word for it, it’s probably the best thing I have never seen. But seeing as you like to overhype yourself to no end, I highly doubt it is even remotely that impressive. As for Azrael, I just got the impression that he likes walking the halls performing playground tier pranks on people and thinks they are the funniest acts of comedy in the world. Hate to break it to you, stuff like that will only get you changing privileges from your car. Overall, that’s not a very deep well to draw any form of inspiration from. If you feel like I haven’t given you the proper verbal mowing down that you expected from me, what I recommend is instead of criticising the work of others and tweeting thinking you’re some social media dynamo, you should probably assess yourselves and get your collective shit together to impose an actual threat. I am not underestimating you or Azrael, the both of you have just been underperforming, and I am merely calling you out on it. It’s easy to claim another argument is paper-thin or claim that another promo is a joke as you have, but it’s another to present one that isn’t, and you both have yet to do so. Though you have called it paper-thin, it seems like it was enough to get you to put aside the dumb jokes and actually try to present a reasonable case. An A for effort, though putting some actual effort into it doesn’t change that most of it is a load of tripe.

When it comes to assessing Azrael and yourself in terms of value as opponents, I don’t need to look back at your tenure on NEO to determine a figure of your worth. I don’t need to view your character sheets and god forbid do I have to put myself through the mental anguish of reading the mindless dribble you put on social media in order to tell you that worth is an abysmal figure. Since you found my last points paper thin, let’s just use facts that can’t be disputed. For one, being a cosplayer changes nothing about my previous statements, and in a cruel twist of irony, your points against it are less than paper thin. Chalking it up as simply being because you’re a cosplayer doesn’t discredit a single thing I have said on the subject. For one, if you are using the excuse of being a cosplayer, you’re not a very good one. You’ve been wearing the same gear and doing the same shtick for three months now, a one trick pony in the field if nothing else. You walk around the place talking like Deadpool, acting like Deadpool, pretending to be essentially the same thing and adopting all of his mannerisms. That isn’t inspired; it’s straight up taken directly from the source material without making a single change to the formula. You know how some Rick and Morty fans feel like they’re intellectually superior because they understood the subtle nuance of the episodes yet go around screaming “Wabba lubba dub dub” and “I’m Pickle Rick?” You’re not very far off that. You take inspiration from things, adopt a concept from something, that is all fine and dandy. But when you essentially take everything that makes the character and go out of your way to portray the same character, you lose the right to use inspiration as an excuse. You sacrifice your own identity for the nostalgia of “Oh, I remember Deadpool”. You can do it as poorly as you want, it doesn’t lessen the impact of the intention. When you believe the fact that talking to yourself mentally and “break the fourth wall” makes you all that more diverse of a character that you feel the need to explain it (to no one's surprise mind you), and that has been directly ripped from the source material; you’re a parody, a rip-off Deadpool. And it’s laughable when you see how much of your arguments contradict your statements, such as calling my inspirations unoriginal. My inspirations are an actual motive; to become the same caliber of wrestler, if not better, than my siblings. And yet you attempted to chastise me for not doing enough digging on you. Yet you believe I have two brothers. You went to the effort to research me, but not enough to fact check that I only in fact have one brother and a sister. If you believe I have some double standard because I have called you both rip-offs of Deadpool and Joker respectively, yet you think I am turning a blind eye to Ironico, you both must be on the brew yourselves. You assume that wearing masks or face paint makes you a rip-off, which is an idiotic way of thinking. Ironico is a person driven by his own motives, under his own identity, with the ideas that form at the top of his often-liquor hit mind. He is El Ironico. Ryan Wilson and Azrael, you are a knock-off Deadpool and a poor man's Joker. I shouldn’t have to explain that further.

You’re also pretty quick to jump to conclusions, such as thinking Ironico and myself just drink down losses. How foolish, fittingly a rookie mistake and ironically, not a lot of insight on your part. We swallowed a bitter pill losing to Cameron Ella Ava and the Heart Break Gal at Road to Redemption. We admitted that we were bested that night, but are we just wallowing in self-doubt and alcoholic beverages? No. No, we’re right back on our feet ready to go again. If nothing else, we are now more fueled towards getting those Tag Team Championships than we had been over the past few weeks. We were defeated by Di Consentes, but we were not crushed or discouraged because of it. If you’re going to attempt to mock us, calling us a “duo of losers”, probably won't be the team they easily defeated in the first round when you’re gloating. If you’re assessing me on words alone, that sounds like your mistake. Because although I can, and have already done, mow you down verbally, in the ring is a totally different beast, and you would know that if you are so adamant about doing your research. And with my good friend Ironico at my side, that multiplied tenfold. What you did in NEO, what you did in this ‘first fed you were apart of’ matters very little if at all now that you’re on the Voltage brand. The bar has been raised and it’s now up to you to see if you can keep up with the new standard that has been laid out for you. If you keep performances like this up, NEO might be a nice place to fall back on. As far as my New Breed Championship is concerned, the long ride is what you’re going to be looking at when it comes to getting this championship from me if you ever get it at all. Despite your critic, I work very hard to be one of the best EAW has to offer. I work very hard to win every single match my name is entered into. And when it comes to this championship, ask Moongoose McQueen how hard I worked to take it away from him. You can only imagine how hard I will work to keep it around my waist. The last thing you’ll hear anyone say is that I haven’t worked for every single thing I have gotten.

As for Azrael himself, I have no idea what he is babbling on about. He seems to think I am a grumpy fellow towards the newer generation of elitists, seems to think it is about him being French or some nationality fueled squabble. I am not the negative person you seem to be cracking me up to be. Just Because I tire of both you and Wilson's act doesn’t make me a negative person or even remotely a racist. That is a Straw Man Argument and nothing else.  it makes me a person who draws the line in terms of how much I am willing to tolerate the foolishness you both bring. You see all these other people on NEO? Guys like Daryl Kinkaid, The Revenant, hell even your fellow call-up in Axl Willow. They aren’t going out of their way to annoy people or get under their skin. I don’t have to agree with their motives or how they present themselves, as long as they aren’t going out of their way to be an annoyance. That’s what separates you two from the rest, who I would have accepted with open arms in exchange. Because Ironico and I now have to share a locker room with you, and quite frankly I would have prefered any of the aforementioned in your place. Ironico and I may enjoy our drinks, and sometimes we sesh a little too much when we’re in the mood for it, but when we’re in these buildings, in that ring or training, we’re not going out of our way to step on toes; we’re going out of our way to becoming the best. The fact you have made this about race and nationality only further proves my point. Hell, if you like your partner want to try your hand at taking the New Breed Title away from me, I have no problem punting a dumb cunt back to NEO to learn some respect, an English lesson or two couldn’t hurt either. The man makes the championship, which is why I am open to your challenges once you’ve earned them. Just don’t think you’ll be able to pry it from my grasps. I am working too hard to make this title lose the stigma brought onto it by idiotic people like Lucas Johnson, too hard to make this title one of value for the younger generation, a title that isn’t perceived as a joke in the eyes of everyone. Losing it to either one of you will set the title back to a point of no return, so it’s safe to say taking the New Breed Championship away from me is out of the question and isn’t going to happen until the both of you look yourselves in the mirror, lose the tribute act and start putting some work to justify your challenge. Until then, specifically to you Azrael, you have no reason to continue talking to me. You have forfeited that right one you tried to play the race card, only outing yourself as the bigot. You just keep dumping more fuel onto the fire as to why I dislike both yourself and Ryan Wilson. (also pointing out how stupid it is to break the fourth wall is ironic given who your partner is. All I am saying.)

At the end of the day lads, you'll be standing across the ring from a very hungry, very determined and very focused tandem of El Ironico and the EAW New Breed Champion Finnegan Wakefield. With Shock Value on the horizon, we're going to be doing everything in our power to not just participate in the festivities, but further establish why we are the future of this brand regardless if  it as individuals or a collective. We're going to solidify our claims as the next in line for the EAW Tag Team Championships, and the two of you are going to be the point in the win column that we need to help speed that along. You both will learn how deep the water is here on Voltage, and that you're swimming with the sharks who smell blood on the water. "

Am I supposed to believe anything you say, Moongoose? I’m not a Goddess? Out of anyone in this horrid locker room, it is you who has created a pedestal for me to stand on. It is you who has praised me in my glory with each accomplishment. You have praised me almost to a point where people began to wonder what makes me so special in your eyes. Now, you’re deciding to flip the script and say that I’m not that? I’m not a Goddess? I’m not the woman other women envision to be in that pathetic wasteland called Empire? I don’t need a pedestal to be placed on top of. I know my worth. I know that I am better than the average competitor on Voltage. The question stands: am I better than you? Is Moongoose McQueen going to finally shut Cameron Ella Ava up? Or will he be a sad and pathetic person who is incapable of getting the job done when it matters? Don’t get me wrong, you managed to accomplish the big milestone in your career at Pain for Pride. I must have been the only one who was screaming for you to win the match backstage. Meanwhile, others couldn’t give a damn about you. People were WAITING for Finnegan Wakefield to rip the title from your cold hands. People were not changing for you, Moongoose. People were chanting for Finnegan. As rewind a little bit from Pain for Pride X, let’s talk about all the bullshit that you have been through. You were the exact same man who no sign of hope on Dynasty. You were outsmarted by men who were deemed better than you. You let Drake Jaeger, Xavier Williams, TLA and Jamie O’Hara get the best on you in MULTIPLE occassions. Sure, you could throw the common argument about me not getting the victory over Aria Jaxon when it’s needed, but at least, I have shown I never stay in the background for too long. Coming to Voltage, I took my opportunity and I solidified my place in the main event scene. Although, you have shown that you can hold yourself together with some of the best Elitists in the company, those men are not me. I’ve defeated TLA and stopped him dead in his tracks. I have broken Jamie to the point where he began to doubt himself. There was something Jamie told me back at Territorial Invasion which stuck with me and it’s “you don’t hurt the ones you love”. You see, Moongoose. I love you like family. There is no doubt that I’m not coming to Voltage to break your spirit. That is the last thing I would want. I want to see you succeed. I want to see you win the Interwire Championship. I want to see you become the World Heavyweight Champion. This isn’t me trying to hide my colors. These are my colors. What you can’t seem to comprehend is that the woman you get in EAW is nothing like the woman outside of it. You are making a mistake in which I did at Territorial Invasion. You are blurring the lines of professional and personal and much like Jamie said to me, it’s become one big fucking mess. I’m quite hurt that you decided to group me in the same category as the ego-manics. You out of all people should know that’s not me at all. You out of all people should be able to separate how I am with my craft with my personal life. I guess, you don’t know me as much as I thought. Another thing you don’t quite understand is that I’m not okay with just putting a smile on my face being toss aside for the new and shiniest toy. I’m not okay with newer talent passing me by. I am not okay with having my worth as an EAW Elitist diminish just to get someone else above me. You may be okay with that, but what makes you think that I am? I’m selfish. I want the attention all on me. I want the history. I want the gold. I want it all. At least, I can admit it. I’m not going to shy away from the fact that I’m seen as greedy and selfish. There are plenty of people like me in the company. Does that make them horrible people? In my eyes, nope. 

“You got this shot because of Jamie.”--Moongoose McQueen, 2017

Are we seriously going to be playing this game, Moongoose? Are you going to be EXACTLY like TLA and devalue the fact that I am deserving of the opportunity for the World Heavyweight Championship? Now, you’re just throwing jabs, hoping something will happen. You’re the same man who screamed to the heavens that I was the biggest threat to Jamie’s title reign. Now, you’re saying that I was never deserving of the title? Seriously? Do you know how many times I’ve had been told the same comments throughout my seven year EAW career? Not shockingly, they were from women.

My God! I didn’t know Jamie had THAT much power backstage? Man, I am so mindblown. Man, I just realized I could get whatever I want now! Okay. First, I want 100 pink Starbursts in a diamond bowl in my dressing room. Second, I want a limo to take me to and from Voltage. Third, I want another Pain for Pride victory. Wait, this shit ain’t predetermined. This isn’t Empire. This may be shocking to you, Moongoose. I don’t want another shot at the World Heavyweight Championship anytime soon. My focus is on Di Consentes becoming the first female Unified Tag Team Champions. After that, I might make history by becoming the first female triple crown champion. Honestly, I’m a realist. I am going to accomplish things within my reach. Jamie can go on and make history. He can knock Brian Daniels off as the longest reigning World Heavyweight Champion. Hell, he can knock off Ares Vendetta’s’ title reign if he wants too! I’m very content with watching him win and make history. If there ever comes a day where I have to face him again, well, it should be quite interesting. I have plans, Moongoose. But, what’s the fun of telling everyone? Don’t you like the unpredictability of me? I mean, no one saw me in the main event of Voltage. No one saw me getting a title shot. No one saw me almost break Jamie O’Hara’s confidence in half.  You would be surprised at what a woman like me is capable of. I can make go from secure to insecure in a matter of seconds. If it was so easy to break Jamie, it should require no effort to break you. I’m not saying that to be a bitch. I’m saying that as a fact. It’s not going to be easy to break me down. You can’t break down a woman like myself. Many men and women have tried. They’ve all failed and I was always left standing tall. Voltage should be no different.