Oracle of Masculinity

Mission: Accomplished.

It’s finally over; Heath Williams is gone from VoW - off to rehab to get himself clean and heal his broken bones. We went to war with each other at Fate of the Gods II, but in the end, I emerged victorious and achieved exactly what I set out to do, and the best part? Now everyone can finally see that I was telling the truth about Heath Williams the entire time. When someone can’t beat me in a Ladder Match - the very bane of my six-year wrestling career - you know there’s something wrong. Either that, or I’ve improved more than I thought. Regardless, my objective is complete, and it couldn’t have gone smoother.

But, if you watched the rest of the show, you would’ve seen I didn’t have long to celebrate my greatest accomplishment - not even an hour after literally climbing the ladder to success, I lost something very near and dear to me under no fault of my own; the entire situation was out of my hands, I had no say as I could only watch on helplessly as it was ripped away from me.

I lost my little girl, my #SwagPrincess: Mimi.

Saint City Gym

June 24, 2016

8:55 am

“Alright, line up!”

I command the rowdy youngsters as I enter the large shed that has been fashioned into a gym; weight machines and Dumbbells line the perimeter, with a small wrestling ring situated almost square in the middle of the large room. I’m certainly not dressed in a presentable manner, wearing a throwaway shirt and shorts with a pair of worn-out sneakers. It’s my day off, I don’t need to be in my gear - besides, I’m still ticked off by what happened earlier today.

(What happened earlier today? Check out Oracle of Femininity to find out!)

One thing from my wrestling life remains by my side, however - the I4NI Championship that I almost died to attain. Throughout all the ball shots and disrespect - I can still smell Heath’s urine in my beard - I did what I always do, and that’s win the championship.

Kids will be kids; very few of them listened to my order, as most of them continue to mingle amongst themselves. It isn’t until I deliver a bellowing “I said LINE UP!” that they actually do what I say, scrambling to line up adjacent the ring like soldiers. I glance along the line, looking for a single smirk or snicker to pick out - but, there’s none to be found. It looks as though they’re starting to learn respect, at last.

I bring the championship belt to my shoulder, and beginning pacing in front of them.

“Surely, even the newest of you recruits know who I am by now, and that's all that matters. I don't know your names, and frankly, I don't care - I'm not here to be your friend, I'm here to train you; to be a leader to all of you.”

I lock eyes with the young man at the end of the line, slowly turning and making my way back.

“You're all here because you were rescued by our saviour, Rebecca Saint; she saved you from the horrible living conditions you were stuck in - whether you’re from a wartorn country, a place stricken with poverty… You all owe her a great deal. She’s asked me to gather you all here because there is a very serious matter threatening the integrity of our society.”

I remain idle before them, re-adjusting the title belt on my shoulder.

“The night I won this beautiful piece of bronze is the same night the enemy fired the first shot - they poached our first child, Mimi Mai, right from under our noses!”

I clench my fist by my side, becoming increasingly agitated at the thought of my little girl being taken away.

“You're here to make sure that this never happens again!” I inform them, decibels of my voice increasing as I once again walk the line. “Miss Saint has requested that I train all of you to wrestle. She wants to insure the future of this place, and that starts with all of you; it's your responsibility to train harder than you've ever trained before to carry on our legacy, should we be unable to do so.”

Standing at the head of the line, I point out a select few of the young men. “Your sisters look up to each of you for protection, and it's my job to give you the tools to do that. So, whether you like it or not, wrestling boot camp starts today; and failure isn't an option. If you can't take the gruelling training regimen I have in place, then there is no place in this society for you. Are we clear?”

There's a smattering of groans and incomprehensible banter; the kind you’d come to expect from 11-17 year olds. Angered, I repeat, “Are we CLEAR?!” Their response this time is more of what I was looking for, as they shout unanimously, “Sir, yes, sir!”

All of them except one, at least.

Two thirds down the line, I see one young man snickering to himself. Steadily, I menacingly make my way to him - he doesn't acknowledge my presence, instead gazing at the ceiling with a grin on his face.

“Something funny?” I coldly ask him. He doesn't answer verbally, instead deciding to shake his head and gaze at the floor - still grinning. “What's your name?” I ask. No response; he just stands idly, hands on hips. I nod my head as I turn my back to him - it's all I can do to prevent lashing out at him in a rage. “Everyone except smiley over here can wait for me outside. Go.”

As the kids file out the door, this little punk decides it would be a good idea to get on his phone and start texting his friends. Infuriated, I swiftly snatch it from his hands; who would’ve guessed it? That’s the action that gets him to speak to me. “That’s mine!”

“You want this back, you’d better start answering my questions, and answering them now. I don’t have the patience for this kind of crap!”

“O-okay, okay!” he responds. Clearly, not unlike the majority of youth today, he can’t live without a gadget in his hand.

“What’s your name?”

“It’s Charlie,” he answers, putting his hands in his pockets. I glance at his concealed hands and raise an eyebrow; the message is received, as he removes them and places them firmly by his side. Straightening his posture, he raises his right arm for a sarcastic salute while loudly shouting, “My name is Charlie, sir!”

“Lose the attitude, kid,” I order him as I walk away, clutching my championship in one hand and his phone in the other - I can feel the brittle screen starting to give way under the pressure of my grip. It’s a wonder the whole thing hasn’t shattered to pieces at this point. “You need to show me the same respect you’d show Rebecca Saint. You got it?”

“Why should I?” he spits, without a shred of respect. “What have you done for me? Any of us, really?” I don’t verbally respond; instead, I opt for the stern authority figure look. He caves, shoulders hunched over, letting out a loud sigh. “I just don’t see what you could offer any of us. I mean, you’re not exactly Athlete of the Year, are you?”

“I don’t need to be in peak physical condition to be successful. As a matter of fact, my physique is largely a part of the reason why I’ve seen so much success in this business - my weight’s an asset, not a limitation.”

He takes another passing glance at me and scoffs. “A tub of lard’s still a tub of lard,” he shrugs.

Fed up with his frame of mind, I bark orders at him to march outside and join the rest of the crew. That’s when it hits me - this kid isn’t like the others. This is Charlie Atkinson - as in the son of famous independent wrestler Ronnie Atkinson; he won championships the world over, wrestled at the highest level of competition spanning almost four decades. He was someone you could look at and instantly know he had the talent, charisma and appeal of a star - he had something special. He had it.

But, just as many before and after him, he fell victim to his vices.

Rebecca mentioned something in passing to me about a supposed wrestling prodigy coming to live on the island after his parents had passed away. Having seen this kid and remembering Ronnie in my mind’s eye, the resemblance is uncanny - he’s Atkinson’s son, alright.

The kids - including Charlie - are waiting for me outside, huddled amongst their own groups of friends. I clap my hands together to garner their attention - silence, just the way I like it.

“Alright, now I want everyone to take a lap around the island and meet me at the main beach; there’s a test waiting for you there.”

“You want us to take a run?” a disappointed voice pipes up. Unsurprisingly, it belongs to Charlie. “I mean, no offense, but it looks like you’re the one who’s most in need of a run here!”

About half of the group bursts into laughter, and Charlie receives more than his fair share of hand slaps and general marks of approval. I’m quick to toss my title down on the same and remove my shirt, revealing a sweaty tanktop underneath; Charlie appears dumbfounded - and, a little disgusted - as I approach him.

“You want to be smart, do you?” I nod my head and take a step back in order to address everyone. “Alright, change of plans; I’ll be taking the lap with you.”

“You can’t be serious…” Charlie reacts.

“What’s the matter? Scared that you’re gonna lose to a tub of lard?”

He flashes a cocky grin and bows his head. “Alright, let’s see what you’ve got.”

I’ve found a way to get through to him; appeal to his competitive side. This kid was clearly a jock and a sports junkie at whichever high school he came from.

The island isn’t all that big - I’d estimate the total circumference is around 12 kilometres, which is roughly 7 and a half miles. Most of the kids start of exceptionally well, powering ahead, all eager to be the first one to complete the lap and earn bragging rights. I’m not interested in proving anything to the other kids - I’m here to stick on Charlie like a fly. He hangs in the back, maintaining a light jog.

“Running out of steam already, eh?” I poke sarcastic fun at him, jogging alongside him.

“Just pacing myself,” he bluntly responds, eyes fixed squarely on the dirt path beneath him.

“How about this; you beat me, and I’ll let you pick and choose which drills you do and don’t want to do for the remainder of the week. How’s that sound?”

He chuckles cockily to himself before eventually announcing: “You’re going down, tubby.”

We pick up the pace, almost to a sprint; he’s exceptionally fast, easily pulling away from me within metres - but, several minutes later, he’s blown up whilst I’m relatively fresh. As I catch up to him, he’s struggling to force oxygen into his lungs while wrestling with a stitch.

“What happened to all your trash talk?” I taunt him. “Didn’t realise I was dealing with a lightweight...” His sprint reduces to a jog, then a walk, and finally he stands idly with his hands on his knees, gasping for air. I slow down and return to his side. “Bet you weren’t counting on me to have this kind of cardio, were you?” There’s no response. I turn my back to him, preparing to continue on my way. “Not everything’s what it seems on the outside, kid. Let that be your first lesson.”

Saint City’s Main Beach

June 24, 2016

11:17 am

Standing on the beach, I watch young man after young man roll in from the thick forestation, taking their places on the golden sand. After a lengthy period of time, the final young man - Charlie - slowly strides down to the sand; he’s clearly in no hurry, nor does he care that he’s holding up the whole process. As he walks by, he throws his open palms to the sky satirically, as if he wasn’t doing anything wrong. They know the way this thing goes already - line up, stand perfectly still and await orders.

“Well done, gentlemen,” I praise them. “You all made it to the beach in a decent amount of time…”

I shoot Charlie a look. “...well, most of you did.” My attention returns to the group as a whole. “Now, it’s time for the tricky part. I want you to do 500 Power Jacks on the beach here…”

I stride over to the shoreline, where two flags are set up metres apart by the ocean. “Remaining between the flags, I want you to swim out 250 metres - there, you should find a small raft with a bucket of discs inside. Grab a disc, swim back to shore, drop the disc on the sand. Everyone understand?”

“What’s the deal with the flags?” Charlie questions.

“They’re for your safety,” I explain. “The current’s strong, and I don’t want anyone getting pulled out to sea in a rip. So, stay between the flags.”

“You’re not the boss of me…”

“Stay between the flags!”

“Okay, okay…”

The exercise is off to a routine start; the majority of them are already proving they’re athletic individuals, powering through the waves after such a long run. There are a few stragglers, which is to be expected, but this isn’t a race - it’s more of a test, to weed out the weak links. Rebecca doesn’t want any cracks in the foundations of this army of ours, and neither do I.

Kids start returning to the shore - some with discs, others who didn’t quite make it all the way return without them - I glance back over my shoulder to the ocean to see who’s left, and out of the corner of my eye, I spot someone paddling outside of the designated swimming area. “I said stay inside the flags! INSIDE!” I shout out, but it doesn’t make a lick of a difference. It’s safe to assume the rebellious individual is Charlie; probably trying to tick me off because he finds it amusing.

Then, all of a sudden, he’s swept rapidly off course, around the other side of the island; the current has picked him up, and he’s left at the ocean’s mercy. “Why wouldn’t he just listen to me, that stupid motherf--” I mutter to myself, before pausing mid-sentence when I see that he’s being washed close to the island. Maybe, if I get there fast enough, I can pull him to safety.

I dash across the sand and through the mangroves, hoping to god their branches can support my weight. Climbing out to one of the far limbs of the tree, I extend my hand just enough to catch his flailing arm as he passes by. With water rushing over his head, trepidation is the expression upon his face as I try with all my might to heave him out of the water.

“What’d I tell you to do?!” I shout angrily, clutching the tree branch with my right hand for support as I grasp his arm with my left. I’d just as soon prefer to let the stupid kid drown for being a thorn in my side all this time, but I’m not quite that callous. Plus, he is a wrestling prodigy, and very valuable to our cause. “I don’t know if you can actually hear me with all that water rushing over your head, but just stay calm - I’m going to pull you to safety!”

I know he’s still conscious - I can feel his hand gripping my forearm, probably out of sheer terror and desperation to avoid drowning - but at the same time in my other hand, I can feel the branch bending and creaking under the weight and pressure we’re putting on it. As I’m being pounded relentlessly by the crashing waves, it’s difficult to tell what’s going to give first; my grip on his arm, or the tree. Or, even worse, the branch itself could give way - if that happens, we’re both goners.

It’s the biggest struggle of my life - one that could end it, if it doesn’t go the way I need it to - but with one mighty feat of Herculean strength, I manage to hoist him from the water and onto a more supportive branch of the mangrove tree. He coughs and splutters, bringing up what looks to be litres of water.

“You alright?” I mumble.

“Why do you care?” he bluntly replies, followed by another loud hacking of his waterlogged lungs.

“Why’d you swim outside of the flags? I set them up specifically to avoid this kind of situation.”

“I don’t know, alright?!” he snaps. “I hate being told what to do!”

“Is it worth almost dying over, though? We could’ve both been killed in that little stunt of yours!”

“Alright, look… I’m sorry, okay?” He’s sorry? I guess near-death experiences really do change people. “My whole life, I’ve lived under insanely strict parents. No matter what I did back there, it was never good enough.”

“You’re preaching to the choir, kid.”

He glances over toward me. “Your parents were rotten to you, too?”

“Oh, yeah,” I chuckle, stretching out my arm to try and alleviate some of the pain in my wrist. “I’m the oldest of four kids; I was the test child. They’d use me as a guinea pig, make mistakes raising me so they’d know what not to do with the other three. ‘Oh, we did our best to be the best parents we could be to you’, they’d say. Ha! Yeah, right.”

“...I guess, maybe you and me aren’t that different after all,” he states, standing with arms folded as we watching the raging ocean below us. “I thought you were just another ogre adult trying to boss me around because you could, but you probably kinda get how I feel. I guess I could try to co-operate with you a little more.”

“That’s all I want,” I reply. “In return, I’ll try to be less controlling and confrontational.” He smirks lightly at that last remark, and I slap him on the shoulder supportively - as refreshing as this bonding exercise is, I’m drenched from head-to-toe, and in desperate need of a shower and a change of clothes. “Come on, let’s head back. You should go get changed, unless you want to get sick.”

My private dorm in Saint City

June 24, 2016

4:46 pm

Traces of sea salt can still be tasted as I let the steaming water flush over my body, cleansing every pore. It’s a welcome change from the freezing ocean smacking me in the face, that’s for sure. I soon get out and dry off, trimming my beard with the aid of the bathroom mirror; it’s been a long day, and I can’t wait to get a little dinner in me so I can crawl into my comfortable bed. I’ve got a big match coming up soon, which has been weighing on my mind ever since I was informed about it; I’ll be main eventing Breakthrough, and it’ll be as a solo act - just the way I want it to be.

Getting dressed into a fresh set of clothes, I flick the light switch off as I leave my bathroom - stepping onto the soft carpet of my main bedroom, I’m startled slightly to see Rebecca propped up against the door.

“Didn’t expect to see you here,” I state, drying my hair with the towel as an excuse to avoid eye contact. The fight from earlier is still fresh in my mind, and it’s not something I want to linger on.

“I wanted to apologise,” she says, leaving her position and slowly making her way around the bed to stand by me. “I wasn’t thinking clearly, I shouldn’t have slapped you.”

“I’m sorry, too,” I sigh, uninterested in fighting any longer. I toss the towel into the laundry basket in the corner of the room. “It just feels like I’m the only one upset that Mimi’s not around anymore. It’s like you don’t care.”

“But I do, baby, I do…” she assures me, raising her hand and placing it softly on my cheek. It’s as soft as a pillow, and I feel a sense of calm come over me as she runs her fingers through my beard. “I miss Mimi, too. But I can’t let those emotions get to me right now; if I show any sign of weakness, everything could fall apart. I want her back just as bad as you do, trust me…”

I can’t tell if she genuinely cares about our little girl, or she’s just trying to manipulate me. Either way, I’m sworn to be by her side for all of eternity; she’s given me so much in this life - including a place to call home - and I owe her more than I could ever repay her.

“I hate it when we fight,” I confess to her, grasping her waist and pulling her into an embrace. Her hands find her way under my arms, resting on my back as she presses her head against my chest and beneath my chin. In this moment, everything feels perfect. No words are needed - we stand silently, just enjoying each other’s company the way we used to when we began dating in high school. I’m reminded once again - just as I am day after day - why I’m in love with this woman. “What’re we having for dinner?” I pipe up, breaking the moment of tranquility.

“You’ve got a one-track brain, you know that?” She giggles, pulling away slightly to lock eyes with me. She leans in, modestly pressing her lips against mine. I feel the jolt inside my chest and my stomach I feel everytime we kiss; it’s the feeling of your heart skipping a beat, and your lungs running out of air - it’s euphoric.

One kiss isn’t enough, and we soon find ourselves in another - this time, much more passionate and sensual - the kind you can only understand if you’ve experienced true love.

Moments later, we’re gasping and groping, wrestling each other on the King Sized cotton sheets; though she’s always in control in every other aspect of her life, she seemingly has no problem submitting to my command as I’m quick to denude her. Stripped to nothing but her underwear, I caress her hips as I kiss ever so softly across her olive skin, coming to a stop just south of her left earlobe. Her sighs assure me that she’s ready. Gently stroking her naked breast sends her into a frenzy; she removes my clothing hastily, kissing me deeply with desire.

Her wet palm fondles me smoothly. My fingers are entangled in the many strands of her hair, cradling her head as I moan gently into her ear. Our eyes meet at the instant she guides me inside her; we’re connected, in body and mind, like we’re one being. Exultant, she moans with pleasure, my rhythm gaining tempo as time rolls on in this timeless sanctuary we’ve built for ourselves. Harder and faster, gentle prodding shifts to aggressive thrusting as her sharpened nails run down my broad back, unleashing something within me.

As suddenly as I’m in control, she’s expertly wrestling it away from me - quicker than I can mentally react, I find myself flat on my back with her mounting me. This is her city, and she’s taking back command; her tender hands placed firmly on my chest for support, she rides. The setting sun peeks in through the pulled blinds, catching her face and hair perfectly - she looks purely angelic and tantalizing as she gracefully glides up and down, up and down - my body is hers to enjoin.

“You alright down there, baby?” she whispers hungrily, not slowing her pace for anything.

“I’m great,” I respond, firmly grasping her waist. “Are you alright?”

She groans, closing her eyes and tilting her head back as she begins riding me vigorously; each time I enter and leave her beautiful body, I feel a sensation shoot through my entire anatomy. As she’s growing visibly tired, I regain control, wrestling her back to the sheets. We’ve reached a point where tenderness is out the window; before long, we’re behaving like animals, clawing and tearing at each other with unbridled lust. Her hair smells like a soothing ocean breeze as I find myself entwined in it once more, giving her every ounce of my passion; she unexpectedly chomps into my shoulder, presumably losing control of her basic human instinct - her screams of gratification muffled in my flesh.

Her breathing becomes short and sharp and her grip on my back tightens; she’s almost there. Her fingers clasp around my throat, blocking my airway as she lets out a single high-pitched squeal; I hold her tightly as she convulses, stroking her hair lovingly. It lasts for no more than a minute more, and she kisses my cheek softly, purring like a pussy cat.

“I love you so much.”

“I love you, too.”

An unknown rooftop in Toledo, Ohio

July 1, 2016

2:37 pm

The scene fades in to show a rooftop overlooking the city of Toledo - the Huntington Center just visible in the left-hand side of the frame. I stride into shot, with the I4NI Title belt strategically placed on the shoulder closest to the camera. Dressed in tracksuit pants and an old Metallica shirt, I gaze out across the city while taking a deep, cleansing breath.

“Beautiful view, isn’t it?” I ask rhetorically, my back turned almost squarely to the camera. “It’s nothing but a facade, though.” I turn to the camera, adjusting the title on my shoulder as I direct the following thoughts toward the viewers. “This city may be beautiful to look at, but you only see its exterior - everything they want you to see is on display.” I glance over my shoulder for a moment. “What you can’t see in this shot is all of the despicable acts that are most likely occurring right now; crimes that go unpunished - drug deals, rapings, murders - nothing’s what it seems when you just look on the surface.”

My focus returns to the camera, as there’s a point to my analogy.

“Everyone under employment by VoW is guilty of this act,” I angrily declare, reflecting on the countless times my peers have been swift to judge me because of my outward appearance. “People take one look at me and assume that I’m an out-of-shape slob who couldn’t possibly get it done as an athlete. In fact, I’m willing to bet that there wasn’t a single soul in that locker room - or in the corporate office, for that matter - who believed I’d ever amount to anything in this promotion. Yet, here I stand - through it all, I’ve achieved more than any VoW Visionary before me ever could! I’ve been a dual champion - the only person to ever hold three individual championships - and yet, these people still doubt me.”

I chuckle to myself, running the back of my hand across the hair under my nose - I find it amusing that people can be so daft. I’ve done everything I can do, save for becoming World Visionary Champion, and they still can’t see I’m a wrestling prodigy! They just look at the exterior - the surface. It goes to show how shallow the human race really is.

“You don’t have to look far to see the facts!” I announce, with my free arm extended wide. “For weeks - no, months - I told the whole world that I would bring the career of Heath Williams to an end, and the majority of them laughed at the idea.” I glance down at the championship on my shoulder and smirk, focusing back on the lens. “But I’m the one who had the last laugh, because I have this.

Pause for reflection.

“It looks like this championship makes those corporate idiots in the VoW office realise that I’m worth a lot more than they’ve treated me in the past, because I find myself in Breakthrough’s main event this week. I guess spearheading a dying division has its perks afterall.”

Cue the overzealous sarcasm.

“It’s not just any main event, though - oh, no no no - it’s Champion vs Champion! The I4NI Champion clashes with the Xcel Champion in the middle of the ring, right there…”

I extend an index finger over my shoulder, clearly pointing down at the Huntington Center.

“...in that very arena! It’s the kind of match fans dream of! When they’re sitting at home alone on prom night because they couldn’t get a date, they’re drawing up fantasy match cards! You know for sure that almost every card’s going to have a Champion vs Champion match on it! It’s exciting, isn’t it; getting to see the very best - the pinnacle of two separate divisions - doing battle in a high profile setting…”

The faux smile fades from my face - I can feel the cheek bones pointing south as a scowl replaces it.

“Except this isn’t one of those fantasy dream matches,” I groan, disgruntled. “That’s because everyone’s quick to count me out once again. Nobody believes I stand a chance against Constance Chapin. Why is that?”

I pull my phone out of my pocket, unlocking it and swiping through the applications. Retrieving data from my Twitter account, I begin reading out tweets and messages posted over the course of the previous few weeks.

“This one comes from Katie Moicelle, and she says: 'This Tyron here is a one track minded monster who takes pleasure in nothing but destroying those who he grew up with, those who he used to like, or at the very least tolerate'.

Bare with me, this next one’s a little hard for me to decipher: ‘Me n Cass Effect take one show off n their givin the main event to freakin WIDE LOAD?!?! Boy, @vow_Online is worse off then i thought! At least Constant Chafings there. Shes borin af but at least she can wrestle. N shes not freakin wide load omg wth @vow_Online!?!? #smh so hard’. - Ryder Blade.”

I lower the phone out of frame, glancing back up at the camera.

“See, people are quick to make assumptions without knowing any facts. Never once did I take pride or pleasure in destroying my childhood friend, nor can you pull into question my legitimate claim of being in the main event - my resume in VoW speaks for itself. This will be the sixth - the sixth - Breakthrough I have main evented! See, these are nothing more than the words of losers - people who failed to get it done at Fate of the Gods II - and they’re just looking for someone else to pick at.

But, despite their biased opinions against me, they share something in common with a lot of the VoW fanbase; they all think I’m going to lose to Constance. Why is that?”

I pause, and begin pacing back and forth on the rooftop as I create a list of theories.

“One reason could be they don’t regard the I4NI Title to be on the same level as the Xcel Championship; and, looking back at the list of past champions, I can actually see where they’re coming from. Maybe it’s the styles of the two divisions that throw people off - the Xcel division promotes pure wrestling ability, while the I4NI division is usually filled with blood and gore. So, in the eyes of the viewer, a victory in an Xcel-style match takes more talent and skill to pull off than the sanctioned street fights we’ve grown accustomed to when this belt of bronze is up for grabs.

Of course, I could be wrong about this one; it could have very little to do with the divisions we sit atop of, and more to do with the individuals in this match.”

My pacing halts in front of the camera.

“Do I need to remind you that I’ve primarily wrestled a technical style my entire career? I’m much more than just one of these hardcore maniacs; that’s only one of many feathers in my cap. You’ve got an impressive Win-Loss record there, Constance. I mean, you ended the “#Xcellent” reign of that loud mouth; that in itself is noteworthy, not to mention every other name you’ve put down; some of VoW’s greatest - Matt Slater, Zahara Matisse, Stacy Jones - hell, even the World Visionary Championship himself couldn’t get his hand raised against you.

But, you see, Connie… None of them have achieved what I have, in such a short period of time. You’re a smart girl - I’m sure you can easily identify that there’s a reason for that. It’s because I can adjust my style - I can adapt according to my opponent’s strategy, and use it against them; I overpowered Owen Gonsalves; I outwrestled Craig Anderson; I decimated Heath Williams. Just about every opponent I’ve stepped into the ring with has made the fatal mistake of believing they’ve got the match won before the opening bell!”

I pound my clenched fist against my chest a few times with passion.

“I haven’t lost a single match since I returned and stopped caring about making those stupid, retarded kids in the front row smile! I’m focused on one thing, and that’s being the absolute best in that f--king ring! That’s not a goal of mine, Constance… It’s the g--damn truth! I’m the best asset this company has! I’m building a legacy here, Penny - and you’re not about to be the one to cease construction.”

I spread my arms out wide - I4NI Title clutched in my right hand - eyes closed and head tilted back, basking in the sun for a moment.

“You can say what you will about me - mock my appearance, my attitude towards the general population - but you can’t deny the fact that I’m unlike anyone you’ve ever faced before.”

Bringing the title to my side, I slowly pace across the rooftop once again, the camera following my every move.

“Or, you could be smart, sheathe your butter-knife sharp wit and not make the same mistake everyone else has, Connie. If you don’t choose the latter, you’ll fall like everyone before you.”