The words bleed into the darkness of the screen. As Oswald sits atop his onyx tower attached to his mansion. The entire tower made simply so he can store as many books as possible that interest him. Atop the tower, is a highly reinforced glass dome. The windows chilled from the cold air rolling in from Lake Michigan. He had a cigar between his middle and ring fingers, already lit. He takes a deep drag on it, before letting out some low rumbling as the smoke spills out from his mouth.

"Things are either fucked for Warfare, or I'm entertaining enough, that Warfare decided to tap me to join in their little fun.

Hmph. Haven't been on Warfare in many years.

GMs change rules, they get changed back, then go to newer rules. It's why I left that shitshow. Now I have to go against Syn and some morons. No matter what, I have to fight as hard as I can. Did I cut a small blurb of a promo? Of course. You'd be pissed too if you're dragged out of your home, thrown on the ground, and forced to entertain at the will of a crowd that will never respect you.

Do Syn respect me? Who knows except him. Can work with people, and still backstab their partners. It's a well worn trope in entertainment mediums. I don't let people get close to me anymore if I can help it. Can I trust him in any other way? Of course. But I wouldn't put it past some people like him, or myself.

This shit is tiresome. I find a group, people either split or they form into a newer faction. I start to have hope. It's why I gave that stupid piece of shit another chance at being part of one of the future greatest tag teams in this company. The NEW Bastards. The Money Titans!

It had a money name! Trust me on that shit. Instead Thias had to be worthless. Now he's some background fucker in my home to pay back for all the goddamn investments I put into him. To get him back to fighting shape. Knitting him back together again, even though I was the one who broke him to begin with.

That's the thing with me. I'll give you a chance. I'll even give you a second if enough time has passed down the line. However, if you get between my goals, and you become an obstacle? I WILL break you down like a factory worker at a box plant. Efficiently, and in many parts that will never be the same again.

So, Syn, these words come at you first.

Don't fuck with me. I expect some ball polishing, but what I don't expect is for you to be a little bitch. What I don't expect is for you to try and come after me first. I'm getting rid of the clownshow first. So you either help me with it, or this truly will be a battle of who can last the longest, and prove they have enough staying power.

You're a remarkable athlete in this company. But, there's something people keep forgetting about me. I am so, fucking good, that I've won Four FUCKING STAR OF THE MONTH awards! FOUR! Do you know how goddamn good you have to be for the ENTIRE ROSTER OF THIS COMPANY to vote you as their better, four different fucking times?

I am not just a veteran of this company, but I will always and forever believe that I am the whole fucking show in this place. I am basically the rarest element on this planet: Astatine.

And much like it, there's only so much greatness that can exist in one ring at one time. In February alone, I will have been the only roster member, to have more than two matches, let alone NINE! This match is going to be smashed between my last 3 for that 9.

I know I lost those matches last Anarchy, and that doesn't deter me at all to stop. You people would roll over and DIE if you had to have more than two matches. Yourself included, Syn. Especially you. You avoid the hard work that I do. Because it would take 10 of you, to be the equal to 1 of me.

After the match ends, and I end up moving on... which I will, of course. You'll be able to do what you're best at: rooting from the sidelines."

Oswald sighs a bit, letting some ashes drop into what seemed like a ceramic bowl shaped like the jawbone of a human, like someone ripped it out, molded clay around it, and now enshrined forever and simply used as a receptacle for ashes.

"I fucking hate saying the name. Blegh. Bing Bong Twinz. I'm calling them? One of Them? I don't know if because they're twins, if it's going to be both at once and it'll technically be a three way with BBT being 2, against myself as well as Syn. If so, that's some bullshit. You people deal with them more than I do and hope I never have to. So, BBT.

What the fuck planet did you two come from? You both look like as if you got high, dropped acid, went to a GWAR concert but like, in the furthest back, and your faces got stuck after a particularly nasty act of theirs.

You two look like if someone took a bet on how many times they can electrocute brooms until they come to life like crack addicted meerkats.

As I don't pay attention to the careers of... oddballs, since Phantom Panzer fucked off wherever he went to. Is your style to annoy the fuck out of people just by existing? Because every time I had to look at them, I never know which one is going to come to life and try to swallow my damn soul.

I really don't have much to say about them, truly. Because they have not, and will never be not be, on my radar. They don't matter to me in the grand scheme of things, because whether it's two people or just one of them, or hell, if they're conjoined, I will not care. If I have to bring the other one in, I will make sure it's on the bottom of the pile just like it's sibling that's the billed contestant.

I will be keeping my guard up. It's a triple threat, and I expect the other one to appear anyway.

I do wish to ask you three one thing, however.

When I win Star of the Month for a FIFTH time, I expect a fucking celebration. I am going to not only become a FIVE TIME Star, but also will be moving on in this tournament. Because I know I'm better. I am the best possible choice for this tournament to move on, and I will suffer no fools in my path.

Because when Death arrives, there will be a feast for worms.

I forever will always be Death. The feast is your bodies, battered and bruised. The worms, the crowd cheering my name. 'OZ! OZ! OZ! OZ! OZ!' as I pin one of you, to move on.

Expect suffering and ego death coming after you all."

With that the camera cuts to black as another scene pops up.

---

The lights of an entire shopping mall dim, then turn off. As the camera pans around, as different shots from different drones showed every side of the mall, a bright light shines out from the middle of the mall, as the lights on the mall changes. After some clever editing, the lights were changed, and on it, the lights turned on as the beam of light dissipates, and the mall's letters show "XWF Hasbeen Rentals".

Oswald is dressed in a heavy black designer coat, as his interdimensional camera zooms out, flying by him, getting the mall structure in it's glorious detail as Oz throws his arms out.

"BEHOLD! The future of the Bing Bong Twinz and Matthias Syn! Where you too, can rent out a hasbeen for your birthday parties, or just to act like you have people that give a FUCK about your lives!

Soon to an XWF arena near YOU!"

He begins to laugh as the camera flies out further, then turns to film the night sky as the video cuts to black.