"Three straight matches. No fun. Not my fault I like to enjoy playing with my food."

Oz had wrapped up hands, no shirt, no shoes, with black shorts with neon green trim. He stands before a Muk Jon wooden dummy, as he starts throwing some punches, palms, elbows, knees in alternating places on the dummy. He showed he's still very new to the practice, but he's focused. His eyes closed as he stops, breathing deep and slow, before returning to his sloppy training. After about 30 minutes of training on the dummy, he stops and goes to drink deep from his water bottle before going to his body bag, and began to throw heavy punches, that if they fully connected, could possibly do some damage internally, for the most part.

He drinks a bit more, only to start speak

"Lionel, that's all you are to me. An appetizer, the hors d'ouvre before the amuse-bouche. Last time we met, you got destroyed. So either management is pissed at you, or they don't give a fuck about you and think you can handle me some day.

You won't.

This world is full of people talking shit, and none of them getting hit for it. As I speak, I have my fellow rich people running behind my back, having parties including the worst of the worst, doing some of the most heinous shit. Much like certain names, I was not allowed in what is essentially perverted versions of Reindeer Games. They know I'd burn them all if I had found out. 

Not a single, one. Almost all of them are fellow rich white men, but, I'm one of them that doesn't allow Nazi propaganda, or any of the other horrific things that happened on Epstein's Island and all across the world, including America."

Oswald showed his anger, as he punched the wall in his gym, bloodying his knuckles and putting break into the concrete wall, the physical reaction to how hard he punched, making a spalling formation in it.

"Women, children. All horrifically abused. I..."

His voice having tremors in his speech

"I need... I need to get this anger out of me. It's building and building. The more I read, the more I loathe, the more I want to destroy something, someone."

He took a deep, slow inhale before exhaling slow as he deals with the pain in his hand.

"I need to let this out, Lionel. If it must be from your body, then you can blame management for hating you enough to make you be one of my opponents."

He unwrapped the bloodied hand, as the pain from it and the nerves firing to cause the hand to shake as he undid the tape.

"So, I'm going to cut this short. I have to go after you and two others. One of them I have words for. The other that's stuck between you two, I don't know. For now, you need to know something. When it's time for our match, this hand will have been healed by the miracle of science funded by someone FUCKING! COMPETENT! AND NOT A GODDAMN ILLEGAL CLOWN IMMIGRANT OF A BILLIONAIRE!

DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME, LIONEL?!

DO YOU UNDERSTAND THAT IN THIS GLADIATORIAL ARENA, YOU ARE NOTHING BUT YET ANOTHER COWARD THAT MUST FIGHT FUCKING LIONS TO SURVIVE, YOU WILL LOSE!"

He growled low, that if they could, animators could use it to give big large cat predators for ADR.

"The anger inside me, since January 30th, has boiled my blood, has made me angrier than any time Graves talks. Any time Fury spoke. And I'm going to carry this anger forward. I'm going to carry it until people are imprisoned for betraying this country, the animals killed, the women across the world that were abused and the children from across the world who suffered the same, but also at times, worse than adults.

Lionel, you are unlucky. Because that deep ire I hold, that tempest of rage needs to be displaced. Unfortunately, you are naught but a fleshy tool to release said hatred, in mine eyes. To borrow some parlance of Shakespearean actors.

This isn't going to be a match. It's going to be a slaughter. The only thing you should consider yourself lucky about, is that the match has rules. Normal, bland match rules. Meaning I won't be able to take a cheese grater and run it against your Rocky Mountain oysters. I can't impale your hands with road spikes. So count your lucky stars. Because that is EXACTLY what I would do to you and the others.

This company can't handle when I focus. And when I am angry, that is when I am at my most dangerous for them.

And for you.

See you soon."