The Establishment vs Pariah/Hunt/Townsend/James/Stone

[PWXonline]

Main Event
Cage of Death Civil War
The Establishment (Brian Hollywood, Darin Zion, Tiami Tyler, Elijah Black and Daniel Everett) vs Team Pariah (John Pariah, Timothy Hunt, Siobhan Townsend, Sterling James and Troy Stone)

Deadline: 6-3-14 at Midnight CST

[Miss Amber]

Well, didn't I tell you all?

I told you all it would happen, and at ADR it did. Tiami Tyler, YOUR PWX CHAMPION! Now that the Icy Reign has begun there is just one more thing that needs taken care of. That is getting Brian Hollywood full and complete control of the company he built.

See, if there is one thing i can't stand it is people say that one minute I was defending the company and the next I am against Pariah. There is a reason behind it. The reason? The now retired Jessica Harmony. You have to go all the way back to when she was "running the ship" and I wound up off the card for months. I was essentially fired after that. Now when you have a child to raise, you tend to do things to make sure they are raised properly. Fight or flight response, so I had a choice. Either sit at home and watch PWX get run by Pariah...and guy who was making the company go out of style or do something proactive about it.

I called Brian Hollywood. He not only hired me back, but made me a part of one of the most successful groups. Now i am at the top and you all are beneath me.

Since then, well you see the results. Jessica is now long gone out of the picture. Yet it seems like a case of the guard changing hands. On John's side he has two guys who just can't get along in Sterling and Timothy. Then Troy Stone, who wants MY BELT handed to him when it doesn't work that way. Then Miss Townsend...um...who the hell is she again? John, you have formulated a team of outright misfits. The Establishment is a cohesive unit and together, we will take every single one of you out. It's quite funny really John, grasping at straws when you know you won't survive. Cage of death, it suits you perfectly, because every career in that team will die. Evil ways, remember that. barbed wire, tacks, glass, electric, all ways in which your careers can ends boys and girls. The question is how far are you all willing to go? How far are you all willing to take this in order to get back what you think belongs to you? Are you willing to pick your pretty little hills early? If you are pick out the grave markers as well.

The Establishment is out to end each and every one of you.

Oh but don't worry. When you all are staring at The Establishment as we walk out, you will be a shell of your former shelves...some of you already are. Just know one thing, you all are the low men and women on the totem pole. The Establishment reigns and The Princess will rule PWX now...and forever.

See you all at the Cage of Death.

Your blood will be sweet.

=====================

The scene opens up in Canton Ohio, out on the back porch of Tiami Tyler's house. Tiami was up against the wall of the house with one Clayton Drexel and the pair were in a rather intense make out session. It was getting really intense when all of a sudden...

*AHEM!*

The pair glared over to find Tiami's brother Daniel and daughter Anna. Tiami managed to gain her composure rather quick. Daniel glared at Clayton, Clayton walking up right behind Tiami.

"Say the word Ti, his skull is caved in."

Tiami giggled, then sat down as Anna jumped on her lap. She then looked at her mom. Anna always had that curiosity.

"Who is this?"

Tiami looked as Anna pointed to Clay. She just took a deep breath, knowing the conversation was going to come up. Clay just smiled, knowing that the truth came out the other day, and it was now going to be told...to their daughter.

"Remember I told you that your daddy was on an adventure and he would be home soon?"

Anna looked back to Clay with a smile on her face. She looked back to Tiami.

"Daddy is home, mommy is champion?"

Tiami nodded, and Anna hugged her. She then walked up to Clay, smiling. He bent down, taking her hand and smiling as well.

"Hey there Annabelle."

Daniel quickly grabbed Tiami, pulled her from the chair and drug her in the kitchen. Tiami was getting frustrated by her oldest brother.

"Outrageous. Simply outrageous. First you divorce Jeremy, then you not only win the PWX title but this?"

Tiami slapped her brother. Daniel looked at her, a smirk across her face.

"Don't you dare step into my house and think you own the place. You don't. Anna has a right knowing her real father, and i have a right to be the champion you could NEVER be. You? You have zero right speaking on my life. Now you need to get out."

The back door opens and Clay steps in, getting in between Tiami and Daniel.

"Get out or I will drill you right in your pathetic face."

Daniel looked at Tiami, who had Anna in her arms. Clayton had his fist balled up and ready to strike, but Daniel left. It took a moment, but the pair got around Anna, and for the first time in a long time, Tiami had felt something amazing.

Peace.

[Elijah Black]

[It’s a cloudy day in Washington DC and the two members of the Vox Populi are sat on the edge of the stage of Ford’s Theatre, Elijah Black wearing a Dead Kennedy’s t-shirt (because that was the closest he could get…) while Everett is wearing a plain black t0-shirt with some desert camo trousers]

Black: I’m assuming that I don’t have to spell out the significance of this location to anyone, given it was the stage on which the final curtain fell with remarkable finality – and I don’t mean that particular night’s performance of Our American Cousin.

But that’s enough from me, for now at least. See, there’s a final battle coming up, and while the Vox will be taking part in this battle as a unit, every man needs to stand up and be counted. So the floor is yours, Daniel Everett, and it’s time to be your own man.

[Black stands up and gives Everett a hard pat on the shoulder before he walks off stage. Everett waits until Black’s footsteps have finished, before he stands up and takes a few steps back so he stands in the centre of the stage, before clearing his throat]

Everett: I’m gonna assume you “get” the whole significance of where I am and why I’m here, but for those of you who didn’t pay attention in class and come hope reeking of burger grease every day I guess I’ll cut you a break and fill you in on a few thing you should already know: one night in 1865, Abraham Lincoln was sat in one of the boxes up there…

[Everett vaguely points high to his right]

…and on that night, the stage which I am standing on right now became the last thing he ever saw after John Wilkes Booth made himself famous while making Lincoln a martyr.

I’m not standing here to say that at Civil War somebody’s gonna get a bullet in the back of the head, because there’s a points where the ends don’t justify the means and I’d say that winding up in jail on a Murder One charge and a whole hell of a lot of witnesses is so far past that line I doubt even Zion considered something like that when he got put in the sushi machine a few weeks ago.

What I’m saying will happen, though, is that somebody will start the night thinking over the plans they have for PWX, but come the end of the night…

*poof*

…it’ll all be gone in a moment they won’t have seen it coming, as everyone else watches on and sees what happened. One minute they had hopes and dreams and ideas, the next minute all of that’s gone out the window and somebody else will be carrying the can.

I’m sure there’s plenty of people looking at the line-up and seeing where the show’s being held and are drawing all kinds of parallels, likening the event to a political struggle between The Establishment and whoever John Pariah could rustle up to watch his back, and are expecting it to be like a Presidential race with less childish name-calling. I wouldn’t put it past Hollywood or Zion to be telling each other that’s exactly what’s going on with this match, and I’ve seen and heard enough from John Pariah and Troy Stone to know they’ve got plenty of ego between them so they probably believe the same crap. As for me, I don’t have to worry myself with any talk of some kind of “legacy” this match will leave, because for me this is damn near a hometown match so when I step into the ring I won’t be thinking of keeping Zion or Hollywood in power – I’ll be thinking that, somewhere in the crowd, there’s some guy that knows me. He might be the guy who lives down the block from me, he might be some jock asshole at school who is bitter about the day I punked his ass out in front of his jock buddies and burst that bubble he lived in the moment he looked like a little bitch and he’s been pumping gas for the last five years, or it might be some guy I sparred with one time at my gym.

Zion and Hollywood want things to go their way according to their plan, but that’s not the way I’m looking at it: I’m going into this match to silence any lingering doubters, for whatever reason they feel they have the right to doubt me. For anyone who still thinks of me as a “garbage” wrestler because of where I had to take bookings in order to make a living in this business, I’m going to prove you wrong by delivering in a big time match to prove that I belong. To anyone who thinks I’m the dumb muscle of the Vox, I’m going into this match to prove that I’m more than some guard dog that Elijah Black will sic on whoever he wants taken out of the equation. To that one guy in the crowd that knows me, whoever the hell he is, I’m going in there to say “Here I am” so that guy will know exactly who I am and why he should respect me for it. And for Pariah, for Stone, for Hunt, Townsend and Jones, I’m going into this match to prove to each of them that they are not better than me, so they better straighten up what they think of me because each and every one of them is a split second from me taking them out of the equation and tipping the match in the favour of the Vox and, by extension, The Establishment.

Oh yeah, don’t think I forgot about that – anyone who thinks me and Elijah Black are a couple of lapdogs for Zion and Hollywood, you’re going to find that we’re attack dogs with sharp teeth, a bad temper and we have the smell of blood in our nostrils – but it’s not because we were told to, oh no, but because we’re looking to carve a little legacy of our own in this match. Think about it. When it’s in the books, are people going to say The Establishment won the match…or are they going to cede that the Vox did their part? Pariah had to throw together a crew in order to come into this fight, but he’s going against two organised groups that are allied for the common cause, and I can tell you from where I’m standing that I’m going to bring the fight of their lives in order to snuff out any hope their pathetic attempt at a rebellion has of succeeding.

[Everett snorts derisively]

Pariah and his gang want to take over PWX, telling us and telling themselves that it will be a better place, a fairer place, all to get us onside with what they want – but can they back up what they say they will do for this company? Or, you know, tell us a single reason why things need to change? The roster get paid on schedule, they don’t have to take second jobs to make a living unlike some companies that I can think of, and shows don’t get cancelled at short notice because somebody forgot to bring the ring with them or some other rinky-dink crap. So what is the issue with Zion and Hollywood running things?

Pariah wants to change things, but not for the better – but because he can. And that tells me all I need to know: there’s nothing wrong with the way this place is run, because someone like John Pariah can challenge for the ownership of this place and not get his ass fired the second he steps out of line, and he’s free to bring a bunch of other guys with him. So why does he want to change that?

Maybe that’s the question nobody dares to ask, but what the hell, I’m here and I’m asking it – and plenty more people should before this match takes place because, when it’s done, the lights are going to dim on somebody one final time, and when they’re out of the spotlight they won’t be a martyr. And I’m saying right now, the Vox won’t be cast out into the darkness come the final reckoning.

[FTB]

[johnpariah]

pariahwrestling.wordpress.com/2014/06/03/we-are-pwx/

OOC: Good Luck Everyone...

[Elijah Black]

[It’s late at night and Elijah Black is sitting on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial, wearing a Nailbomb t-shirt, as the last few visitors for the day make their way off the premises]

You know, I get the feeling that most people who come here…well, let me demonstrate…

[Black holds out his hand to ask for the camera, and when it’s passed to him he quickly turns it to show a couple of security guards standing about twenty feet away from him, before handing it back to the cameraman and the camera turns back to him]

…let’s just say the National Parks Service have a few “trust issues” in regards to me coming here, because they had me and the rest of this little camera crew empty our pockets and let security rummage through our bags to make sure we weren’t carrying any cans of spray paint, or smuggling in a jackhammer, or pretty much any other tools for vandalising the statue that sits behind me. Obviously they seem to think I’m the sort of person who’d spray some kind of slogan onto Honest Abe back there, or maybe hurl the contents of a couple of paint cans at it, even though when it comes to acts of vandalism on this statue there’s only two types of people who have done it: psychiatric patients, and the special kind of redneck who hates the fact that Lincoln abolished slavery which set in motion the idea that people of one minority should perhaps have the exact same rights and privileges that white people do. That really sticks in the craw of some redneck idiots, which indicates that maybe he had a point and he was right to stick to his guns.

But, seriously, being tailed does ask a couple of important questions, most of all, what are they expecting me to do when I got here? Erect a statue of John Wilkes Booth? Like hell I’d erect a monument to some pro-Confederate investor in Big Oil!

[Black just about manages to keep a straight face while saying this]

Obviously, I’m not the only person to come here today, after all there’s about six million people coming here every year – and I’m pretty sure that none of them spend an hour getting searched by guards or having to ask a long list of stupid questions about why they’re here and what they’re going to do…

[Black aims a withering glare off camera to the security guards]

…but while some come here to admire the man, others to spit at his feet because their ancestors suddenly had to pay the people working at their plantation and treat them as human beings which meant paying them and letting them leave at the end of the day, but most of all people want to be inspired by him – although, by and large, it’s for something trivial. Ask yourself, would you approach any living President and ask his opinion on buying a new car? Sounds like a stupid idea, right?

What people miss is the idea of this memorial, of why it is here, because there’s so many versions of Lincoln that we’re taught either in high school or by TV or by anyone else who wants their version of Lincoln to be accepted that people forget he’s a man that changed things. Not only did he bring an end to the poison that was slavery, which I’ll cede is one of the versions we’re told to know, but he also radically altered this country as a whole: people now had the right to buy their own piece of land, universities became open to all rather than the select few, and the farthest reaches of the country moved that much closer as the Transcontinental Railroad closed the distance between one coast and the other. He saw this country needed a whole lot of changes, which is something that people these days forget – this country isn’t perfect, never was and likely never will be, but he saw that what was drawn up in 1776 needed improving…a suggestion which, these days, tends to get a mob brandishing torches and pitchforks chasing you through until you are cornered and defenceless. People tend to forget that part when they eulogise him, funnily enough…

[Black gives a knowing look to camera]

There is a reason that he, as one man, was able to enforce all of these much-needed changes: it’s entirely because he was within a sphere of influence that made it possible. One man cannot change things if he is an outsider, just like a thousand men cannot change something if they are on the insider, which leads to the question I want to put to Pariah, Stone et al: why are you so adamant that things should stay the same?

Pariah probably has his reasons for wanting to take control of PWX, and I’m sure the rest of his team are drawing up long lists of favours he can do for them when he gets control without considering the likely outcome that Pariah’s uprising gets put down in its tracks. Yet what is the purpose of him wanting control? After all, what are the legitimate issues he has with the way things are run? He’s allowed freedom of speech and freedom as fair assembly, he earns money to put food on his table, and he doesn’t live in fear of execution or torture…something which cannot be said of Zion, of course, but apparently he’s fair game – and as PWX isn’t a dictatorship, those responsible haven’t been sent to the gulag. More than that, while Pariah is hoping to take over, the question is quite simple: why? Does he have some five-year plan to boost PWX? Did I miss the PowerPoint presentation where he told investors his list of economic goals and to ease the reliance on non-PWX imports to keep the proletariat content?

[Black throws his arms in the air]

Or why don’t you just admit you like the idea of having PWX all to yourself? Although, there’s a small problem with you admitting to that, namely you’ll be admitting your quest to take control is fuelled by self-interest as you set foot on a long and gruelling power trip, and when I say “long and gruelling” I mean for everyone else, not for you.

See, at no point has Pariah said why he wants Hollywood or Zion removed, at least no reason beyond a mere difference of opinion. There is no reasoning behind his wish, no ideology, just his word against Hollywood’s. However, he has managed to round up a group of mercenaries to back him up, with promises of thirty pieces of silver apiece for their help – and it’s pretty easy to guess what they want. For example, you don’t have to be a mind-reader to guess that Troy Stone wants a title shot so following Pariah makes so much sense, as he’s just as greedy and self-interested in getting on the good side of whoever’s in charge, Hunt’s always been looking for that one moment to break through so playing buddy-buddy with the new president will grease the wheels for him, while James and Townsend saw an opening to skip ahead of people working their way up the ranks because they want to be able to call in a favour and reap the benefits. That’s a whole lot of people hanging a whole lot of hopes on the expectation that they can affect a change they can’t guarantee will happen.

I’m not going to pretend that myself and Daniel Everett are reading from the same hymn sheet as The Establishment are because, let’s be honest, they have their reasons for wanting this match and we have ours – but those reasons run parallel to one another, leaving us with a common goal, rather than having four people having their own plans and expecting Pariah to deliver on them. That sure sounds familiar, doesn’t it? Someone promising a long list of things before they get into power, but once they’re those same people are ignored and those same promises evaporate into thin air as if they never existed in the first place. It’s not anything close to being a rare occurrence in this city, so maybe the four of you should think of that while Pariah is busy thinking about the letterhead of the new PWX office stationary with his name printed larger than that of the company he says he is leading.

That’s where I lose any pretence of respect for the opposition, because each and every one of them is going into this match looking to serve their agenda and their agenda alone, yet on that exact same point that is where I gain confidence ahead of this match because I can clearly see that each and every one of them will abandon the Pariah cause when they see the tide turning against them, because it’s one thing to back a cause that will benefit you when there’s a chance of success, but when the chance of success starts to disintegrate then people will start to abandon the cause and leave you all on your lonesome.

That’s the thing with the race for power, the consequences for failure will be brutal – and not from those you stood against, oh no, but those who said they were behind you all the way will all have a knife and they will be ready to stick it in your back and twist the blade as they seek vengeance for your failings, and you will barely have hit the ground before they put distance between them and you, as your name will have become tainted and forever associated with failure…for as long as it’s remembered, that is.

At the end of the night, all the hopes of leading PWX will have been drained from John Pariah’s mind just like every last drop of ego will have been drained from his ego as his plan to wrench power from the grasp of The Establishment so he can control PWX for his own ends will be chipped away, piece by piece, and he’ll be watching it with his own eyes as it happens and wondering who will fall next – and how long before he’s all alone against the pack of wolves that are coming for him, seeking to remove him from their territory. It’s not going to be pretty…but that’s enough of what will be left of your ragtag bunch of mercenaries who will sooner abandon you than fight to the last man, and maybe we should consider the match for a moment, because the stipulation leaves next to no room for any excuses, so there’s going to be a finality to what happens that cannot be argued with. You’ve gone all-in, Pariah, thinking you had a winning hand but thoughts can be deceptive when your ego does the talking.

More than anything, though, you are going up against a team with a lot more to lose than you will ever know, and each and every one of them will fight to keep what they hold out of your hands. And for myself, and for the Vox, I say that you will receive no quarter until each and every one of you has been turned back.

You picked a fight, that’s for sure, but you picked the wrong fight with the wrong people at the wrong time – and it will only get worse for you the longer you keep up the pretence that you have a chance of winning.

[FTB]

[MissAsherz]

And we run, with a lonely heart
And we run, for this killing love
And we run, 'till the heavens above
~Within Tempation "And we Run"

Running. What does that word really mean to a lot of people. The word means a lot of things to me, and I have been called out for 'running' when I had my health scare a while back. I had to do what I had to do in order to make sure that I lived. The man who ended up saying that is on my own damn team, but I have to put pride aside for a few moments and look at the current situation at hand. I don't see Troy Stone coming in for this company. He is always looking at himself in the mirror and preening anyways....

I digress. Back to the current situation at hand. The current situation at hand is that The Establishment is going to take this company into oblivion if someone doesn't stand up for PWX as a whole. I have been in this company for two damn years. I will admit, I really want to be world champion. Fate however is a very fickle mistress and I am not supposed to be world champion until I learn something. We all must learn one thing from this. That one thing is to stand up for yourself and for what you believe is right. What do I believe is right? That is a very simple answer.

This company was built by John Pariah and Lilith Morgan. They build Pro Wrestling X on honor, respect and competition. Many people have come and many people have gone, but one thing has remained the same. That is the competitive spirit of the company was the heartbeat of the company. Then the Establishment came into the picture and tried to make this a corporation. They compromised PWX and made it something that it wasn't supposed to be. Well I have had enough of it all. I am not going to sit by and allow this company to go under at the hands of Hollywood.

Brian don't you understand? You could have made this company more if you just did the right thing. If you just continued to keep the company where it was going. Slow and steady wins the race remember? You had to go and be a power hungry mother fucker and change the very foundation of this company. Now I know that you are going to sit here and say 'I made this company' while Darin fucking yells 'hail hydra' and Tiami acts like a fucking bimbo as usual. I am prepared to die for this company. I am prepared to lose my career if it means that people like Marisol Hawkes, Nighthawk and others on this roster get a fair and deserving chance.

I will forever be PWX. I have done some bad things in this company to get the two hybrid titles that are mounted on my wall, but I still remained in PWX no matter how many damn offers came my way.

I am PWX. Are you?

[Darin Zion]

I am Darin Zion and I approve this message!

(OOC: Sorry for no RP, I've had a lot on my plate with literally job promotion, Brian's internet connection going down, and life that I am going to work immediately on the Civil War pay per view. To those who are sick get better

[Miss Amber]

I may be a rookie....but I have been to war. I have always said that when war comes, you face it head on. I, the Dark Rebel Sterling James have been to war. I have seen the bombs go off and have the nightmares associated with them. So this cage of death match? No problem, scars still litter my body. More can and will be added.

#IAMPWX

[ooc:shitty, but ash has fallen ill, gotta start results.]

[Siobhan Townsend]

Saturday, May 17th, 2014
2:45 PM
Townsend Residence

For a tragically large portion of the men and women in professional wrestling nowadays, the proper reaction to a loss is to start playing the Blame Game. Excuses come as readily as breathing to the detritus that threatens to clog the arteries of the business itself, ranging from a slight bending of the truth to an outright denial of reality as desperately-clasping hands try to take hold of a straw that can bear the weight of the responsibility that they outright refuse to take. It's a sad and sorry state of affairs, to be certain... but such is not remotely present when it comes to the runner up in the Opportunity Knocks Battle Royale. Instead of answering failure with falsehoods and attempts to pass the buck, the Requiem is responding in the only way that makes sense to her. Namely?

Hard, back-breaking work to make sure it never happened again.

Sweat trails down Siobhan's spine as she runs full-bore upon the treadmill that she only owns at Dominic's insistence, the machine turned up to its highest level of speed while the incline is set as sharply upward as it will go. Pale blond hair swishes to and fro behind her in a ponytail as she lowers her head slightly, hands clenching into fists as they move subtly with every stride. The simple black spandex of her sports bra and shorts has long since soaked through with sweat, the slight wind she's whipping up with her own movement keeping her from overheating by the barest of margins. She's bolting as if her life depends on it, one could easily think-- an idea that is ludicrous on the surface. Beneath the still waters of her usual austere façade, however, lives the lung-burning cold of a distant forest of evergreen that--

--the chill punched her like a fist in the throat when she tried to take a breath. It made her want to double over, to stop and take the chance to rest... but she couldn't afford to, not when he was hot on her heels. He'd vanished about half an hour ago, a murmured command to run all the more direction she got before he was reaching out to try to seize her by the hair. It was only the memory of a hard lesson, of bruises blooming purple and ugly upon the alabaster of her skin that kept her from being snagged by the sudden motion-- and she hadn't stopped running since then, weaving her way through an unfamiliar maze of trees and frozen over underbrush. There was enough snow falling to obscure her tracks well enough, she thought, the crunch of the white stuff beneath her feet hidden beneath the mournful howl of the wind. If she could make it to the edge, she'd be safe. She just needed to keep running, keep moving.

Her foot-falls become heavier, coming all the faster as the Requiem forces herself back upright, eyes wild and wide as they gaze at the wall in front of her. She doesn't quite see it though, just the same as she doesn't hear the music pumping into her ears or smell the potpourri that her husband has stashed in every corner of the finished basement that has become the house's private gym. Her focus is wholly upon the fluidity of her movement, each and every nuance of her body in motion... or, at least, it is on a subconscious level. For the moment, her conscious thoughts are consumed by something that's harder to let go of than every last shred of her hyper-vigilance, much less her borderline unhealthy work out habits. Instead?

A large shadow moved overhead, blotting out the brittle latticework the sun created as it shone down through the branches overhead. There was nothing warming about it, no promise of spring... if anything? Siobhan found it as chilling as the wind. Then again, it was hard to imagine anything comforting as the fifteen-year-old ran as if her life depended on it, the unassuming man that had become as close to the stuff of nightmares as he could get in hot pursuit. She didn't want to know what failure would cost her-- her toe snagged in the gnarled and twisted root of a ---tree type here--, sending her sprawling to the ground. Desperation drove her to scramble back to her feet in an ungraceful tangle of limbs, hands and feet alike pushing her back to something resembling a vertical base. It was only though some miracle that she was able to get moving again without being taken down like an injured fawn.

As the Requiem keeps up her frenetic pace, she is unaware of how the door leading upstairs is opening. Whistling the airship theme from Final Fantasy VI to himself, Dominic is dressed down compared to his usual steampunk pomp and circumstance, chocolate curls bound up in a messy bun and a simple basketball shorts and white t-shirt adorning his slender frame. That cheery tune fades to a halt as he catches sight of his other half's current state, a brow faintly quirking. Once he's figured out that she's returned to her... rather extreme regime of working out, an exasperated sigh leaves his lips as he shakes his head in disapproval.

Mn, not again...

His lips tugging into a moue of disapproval, the Steampunk Prince approaches his other half-- unaware of how the sound of his footsteps are beginning to make themselves known to the blond's conscious thoughts. It's a synchronization borne of Hell's whimsy, one that he is entirely unaware of... and at first?

Neither is she.

A branch's crack sounded off like a gunshot behind her, his steps so much smoother, calmer and more assured than her own. Balling up her fists, she pushed herself to go faster, to try to create distance between them but she felt those deceptively strong fingers clamping down.

A warm hand settles gently upon her shoulder, a faintly inquisitive noise leaving her husband at how she recoils subtly from the touch--

Cold steel pressed against her throat, just enough pressure applied so she could feel the bite of it. She had to fight him off, had to do something, anything to get free. Her arm bent at the elbow, preparing to lash out--

Siobhan, love and light of my life-- are you at it again?

Gjør ikke det.

A shuddering breath leaves the Requiem as the present snaps back into proper focus at the sound of her husband's voice breaking through the fog that her past has become, that urge to lash out at who would dare to lay a hand upon her leaving her at the familiar sensation-- the soothing scent-- of her husband's presence. Looking over her shoulder, Siobhan's sides heave as she regards her husband with a gaze that is surprisingly raw with emotion, a blend of things that he can only barely grasp the shape of. She trembles like a leaf in the wind from exertion... or perhaps it's something else, some intangible crack in the permafrost of her composure. Regardless of what it is, the Steampunk Prince turns off the treadmill before it can send his beloved flying back against him... and when he does find his voice anew, there is a carefully serious cant to his words despite how her upcoming bout is largely his fault.

...are you sure about this? I don't want you to--

Gently-- always gently when it comes to Dominic-- a pale finger settles itself over his lips mid-word. Even though it trembles, even though she's exhausted... the reason why she will prove to be the ace in the hole for John Pariah reveals itself in a single, murmured word.

Ja.

-------------------------Ω-------------------------

One can almost call the gym the scene opens in a place that time forgot.

Considering how the newest machine-- a stair climber in the corner-- was manufactured sometime in 1987, it's relatively obvious that this hole in the wall locale is not what one could call top dollar. Saying it's bottom dollar could also be considered too generous, but that doesn't matter to the few that still come around. Maybe it's the privacy, or maybe it's because 'they just don't make them like they used to', but for all that the equipment is older and the carpet is worn through in places? It's obvious that the important things are well taken care of, function valued far higher than form or bells and whistles... and as such? It's as close to perfect as it can get in Siobhan's eyes. After all, state of the art has never been a requirement for a suitable place to hone one's craft.

Not to her.

The Requiem's blue eyes are locked upon the camera as she stands in the middle of that well-worn squared circle, arms hanging loosely to either side. She has to tilt her head upward slightly to meet the lens, a sure sign that whoever is holding the camera today has chosen to take a seat on the top turnbuckle. There are no pithy comments, no overenthusiastic compliments or histrionic gestures otherwise. Instead? There is only Siobhan, the young woman dressed in a pair of well-worn black cargo pants and a shirt which declares that yes, yes she is a John Pariah girl for this particular match. Not wasting any time at all, the Requiem gets down to business with the same near-monotone as the last time she saw fit to address her opponents once she knows that the camera is rolling.

I am not going to mince words here. I am a soldier going into a match centered around the idea of war... and each and every last one of my opponents is a civilian.

There is a flat certainty to the Requiem's words, the sort that is bereft of pomp or circumstance. Rather, she is stone-cold certain in the truth of her words in a way that belongs to those that have seen and survived much more than the average person. A faint scoff leaves her lips before she continues.

Each of my opponents is going to disagree, of course. They're all going to stomp their feet and throw their delusional tantrums and all of the other trappings of the tantrums that have become their hallmark... but not a word they say can change the truth of the matter. Not a single member of the Establishment is prepared to fight their way out of a paper bag, much less win a match where the stakes are higher than they can wrap their feeble little minds around. It's a small wonder that they're not suffering from brain damage, as long as they've had their heads firmly lodged in their respective rectums... a point which one has to wonder about when you consider how utterly insipid they all sound. It's a chorus of repetition, if you think about it-- but I'm not going to lump you together, even though I'd have every right to since you all sound so alike with your empty bravado and false sense of grandeur. The poison you're pumping into this business, though, is all too real... and so it falls to myself and my teammates to slay the serpent that's slithered its way into the garden. And where better to start than its ass?

There's a faint scoff, the sound subtly condescending-- and that same distaste clings to her words as the Requiem turns her attentions to the only other woman in the match. It's a shame, truly, that Tiami Taylor happens to embody everything Siobhan has come to despise.

That's what you are, Tiami-- nothing more than the harlot that hit her back and spread her thighs as soon as she figured out that there was an easier way of succeeding beyond working for what you want. You might have stayed here for a couple of years, but how many different companies did you confidently stride your way into... only to turn tail and run away like a coward as soon as you met the slightest resistance? More than I can count, that's for sure. And yet somehow, you're fit to be the example of what the pinnacle of this company is when you were handed a championship match you only partially owned? You, you two-faced and lazy waste of oxygen?

Ku dritt.

Our... esteemed World Champion is worth absolutely nothing in the eyes of anyone that knows what being a champion is supposed to represent. There is no honor in your actions, no interest in bettering the business-- instead? You're nothing more than a bitch in heat, bending over at the waist and presenting yourself to any male that you think will give you the opportunities you crave in exchange for being their lap dog. That's the thing about dogs like you, Tiami, something that your arrogance keeps you from seeing. They can be put down... and rest assured, you will be put down. I will see to it personally.

And she's going to do so with extreme prejudice, if the way that the Requiem's eyes narrow is any indicator. There's a faint quirk to one side of her head, a thought linking together in her mind as neat as can be expected before she continues.

Speaking of lap dogs... since you made the comparison yourselves, it seems like there's three destined for that room at the end of the hall of every animal shelter. You know, the one that smells of death-- and it definitely has its own aroma, one that you likely experience each and every time you try to have a clever thought. Just how obtuse do you think we are, Daniel and Elijah? With the way you both talk-- which is basically sounding so much the same that you're obviously rehearsed every last word the way that someone attempting to perjure a jury does-- it's as clear as day that you think everyone else in the company to be absolutely retarded. Do you think we miss how the Establishment blatantly favors its own? Or are we supposed to just sit back and think nothing of how a certain small-- and small-minded-- group of people keep getting opportunity after opportunity, most of which they did nothing to earn? Then again, I suppose we're also supposed to ignore how you're as much for the people as I am a seven-foot-tall albino that likes to wear a mask that allows him to breathe fire.

What, did you expect no one in the entire world to know what Vox Populi means?

I'd be disappointed if it wasn't for the fact that you both are doing everything you can to talk circles around one very simple fact; that neither of you have a leg to stand on when it comes to acting noble and mighty. You gave up that right the moment that you tried to paint me as the sort of person to commit the very crime I came to this company to end. On what fucking planet would it make sense for me to become the very thing I hated enough to leave a lifestyle of relative comfort for? Because make no mistake, as hard as I am on the people around me... I am even harder on myself because I know full well that I've got standards to meet that are far, far higher than either of you could aspire to. So keep talking yourselves in circles, dogs. You'll be laying down soon enough. Getting back up, on the other hand... I wouldn't take that for granted, if I were you.

A brow quirks as if to ask 'You too?' at the grunt of a chuckle that emanates from behind the camera at that last line. There's something faintly familiar about it, but the viewers at home do not get the chance to ponder too hard on the subject since Siobhan's carrying on.

Something else to not take for granted? Darin Zion being capable of anything more than grand and colossal failure. There's not an original thought in your head, is there Darin? You're like a myna bird, plucking anything and everything that you think will make you more intimidating, more threatening since you cannot get the job done on your own. I mean, just look at your last attempt to be the Hybrid Champion. You wo-- wait, no... that's not right. You awarded yourself the belt after pretending to be a better version of some guy I had to Google after the announcers referenced him. And what did you do later on that night?

You lost your ass off.

That's the cycle, isn't it Darin? You find yourself feeling inadequate-- a perfectly valid feeling, by the by, since that's exactly what you are-- so you try to give yourself another feather in your cap, another accolade to pad your resume. It never quite works out for you though, does it? Anyone that goes to your entry in the history books of PWX will see how all those dates of your achievements being won and lost are rather... close together, too close for anyone of actual championship worth. Just how will the great Darin Zion be able to continue being relevant when the Establishment is nothing more than a memory? The answer's simple-- he won't.

One gets the feeling that the Requiem feels almost dirty, calling Darin relevant in the first place... but she doesn't linger on that feeling despite wishing she had some hand sanitizer at the ready. Considering the last man she has to address, one has to wonder if perhaps she won't need a kiddie pool of the stuff by the time she's done.

That leaves us with the head of the snake, although I'm sure that Darin's going to have a tantrum over me not acknowledging him as being capable of anything remotely resembling a scheme. Brian, Brian, Brian... you don't have a fucking clue about what you're dealing with, do you? The way you're so quick to dismiss me as being 'just some girl that got thrown over the top rope' when I was one of the people that eliminated you from the Opportunity Knocks Battle Royale before you could even so much as think of making an impact is all the more that I need to prove that. Then again, considering the absolute winners you've chosen to surround yourself with? You didn't so much as need to open your mouth to prove that. Styling yourself as a tyrannical mastermind when your chosen pawns can barely move a square or two on the chessboard without falling off the board isn't just a sign of incompetence, it's a sign of arrogance. I'd say I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I trade in honesty. There's one thing about tyrants you're forgetting-- namely, when they overstep their bounds?

They are overthrown.

I find it something of a shame that your run at the helm of this company is going to end with something more mundane versus all of the... fun and interesting ways one can dispose of a despot, but one must work with what one can. As such? I think I'll see if I can string you up somewhere, make you watch as your schemes come apart at the seams one... by one... by one. I suspect my husband might make himself an alcoholic beverage of some sort involving your tears.

What one can charitably call a smile twitches at the corners of Siobhan's mouth as she nods to herself, the mental image of the Steampunk Prince holding out a martini glass beneath Brian Hollywood's chin too amusing for even her to obscure it completely. Shaking her head to dismiss the thought, she picks up where she left off.

Now I'm sure that after the dust has settled and the Establishment only has one another to blame for falling short, they'll do all they can to paint me as some sort of monster-- a killer amidst pretenders that found out all too easily how the game can become real when they provoke the wrong person. To those mewling shells of their former selves, I'll point out something simple. The end justifies the means... even though to be honest, I'll probably wind up levelling Troy Stone's arrogant ass myself once the job is done and the snake is hacked to pieces. That is neither here nor there, though. What matters is that we will be ushering in a new era in PWX, one where talent trumps selfishness and ego-- and one by one? Those that survive will be weighed and measured, the worthy allowed to continue while the others are ended. Perhaps it will be a mercy, how the five of you will be eliminated before then... although in reality?

Leaning forward slightly, the Requiem utters her final words with the same dead certainty as the first ones to leave her lips.

The very ways you are all lacking... will be why you fall.

Her piece spoken, the Requiem turns her back on the camera... although there is one final statement being offered, an unspoken note to end the video on that says more than anything else could. With her hair pulled up, the text upon the back of that shirt can stand out clearly in white against black cotton.

#BurnTheEstablishment.

[Brian Hollywood]

hollywoodexecutivepromise.wordpress.com/2014/06/04/full-scale-war/

OOC: Enjoy it guys. Wanted to really build an epic RP but didn't expect to have a shitty internet connection down where I'm at. I'm on vacation this week and I expected to have great service. But alas, we can't control them all can we? Anyways, enjoy everyone and good luck!

[troystone]

Disclaimer: Here's my promo.

The PWX cameras spot Troy Stone sitting down in his locker room along with Megan Pierce and Bruce Bowen. Troy is sporting a gray hoodie and blue jeans and has his blonde hair in a ponytail. Troy looks at the camera for a moment before he looks at the camera.

Troy: Last month officially made it one year since I made my arrival here in PWX: off a suggestion by my cuddle monkey Ophelia Morganti. Pet names aside my babe, upon knowing at the the time that I was a free agent, the HOTTEST(literally) free agent in all of professional wrestling, it was Ophy that sent me towards this lane. Towards PWX and thirteen months later it's turned out to be the greatest thing anyone has ever done for Pro Wrestling X. And I have to be honest it turned out to be the best decision I've ever made in my life.

See everyone these days, including all of you, want to talk about things that's real. You want something real. That's all I hear from all of you. You want everyone to be real with you. And I guess you feel like you're obligated to that. You pay your tickets to these shows, most likely using your last paycheck and when you come to a PWX show you expect to see something real. The best in ring and out ring wrestling show anybody can produce. PS that's what they advertise you all. But yes in this social media world we're living TMZ, hopeless fangirls(and boys) on tumblr, everyone wants to dig as deep as they can to find the truth. You clamor for the truth well allow me to give you that dose of the truth. Since apparently no one is going to do it and since I got this platform let's talk about what's real. I mean I've never been shy of using my god given First Amendment right; being born in this country, to say what's on my mind. So using my right as an American, let's talk about a few things. Let's get real.

Troy pauses.

Troy: Seven years I have busted my ass around the United States of America perfecting my craft, STEALING every show I was booked on. Every show I could get on, every show that wanted me I was on and I stole that show. But that was the key, every show that wanted me. Because coming up, no one wanted Troy Stone. I was like every aspiring wrestler coming up right now. Wrestling in front of 200 people who didn't now who I was. Wrestling in some gym that was the size of a postage stamp. Dingy, disgusting, sweaty, that what it use to smell like. And the pay was laughable. Laughable I tell you. No seriously.

Six of those seven years Troy Stone was like everyone else, even when I knew I wasn't/ Even when I knew that O was better than most that found their ways on TVs, on PPVs, on Supershows in front of thousands arena the arenas and the millions watching at home, I knew even then that I could outdo anyone and everyone that does what I do. Six years. Looking for a break. Six years putting my body on the life, shortening my life expectancy, consuming myself with just wrestling, six years working up and down this country. Six years doing all of that and no one really knowing.

Six years. Six years is a long time to learn. Learn what it feels to not be wanted. Six years to understand what it's truly like to start from the bottom. Yeah I know Drake made that song but he didn't really start from the bottom. I did and I keep wrestling, I kept stealing shows, I kept pissing off the vets because I would tell them in their faces that I would outdo them only to just do that. Because that's just what I did. In those six years I picked up things most people in six years don't. And the vets knew it too. Every single time for those six years and none of that was under the spotlight. The one thing in life that I've always wanted. A platform in which I show everyone in the world why for six years the next best story in professional wrestling was wrestling underneath their noses.

I was always the Troy Stone you all have seen.

It was PWX that allowed the whole world see that.

Most specifically, it was Lillith Morgan. If there anyone that actually deserves a shed of credit for the legacy that I've created, it would be because of her because she took up that tip my babe sent and she signed me to PWX. And although everything that I've accomplished, everything that I've won and everything that I've created for myself, if I had to thank one person besides myself, it would be her. She gave me the spotlight. The spotlight that I had been fighting for six years to get. The spotlight, the lights, the stage. Showtime. The one spot I deserved to be on she gave me that.

So moral of this truthful story is in a way despite our differences dweebs, I do have to thank you all.

Well, it's more Lillith and PWX in general but you guys I suppose get a small shed of thanks you know? Because for the last three months of my career it's been the greatest year of my career by far. PWX gave me my first "home" promotion, my first "name" contract. PWX has given me everything that I've wanted. The spotlight, the power, the millions of eyeballs watching me prove why I'm legit one of the best living. Living or dead for about like three years I've been one of the best and because of PWX for the past thirteen months because of this company everyone else has seen the same thing.

Without PWX I wouldn't be the name I am now. i would have gotten to this point eventually. I would have. One day. But maybe as a Indy standpoint. But where's the perks in that? Nah. PWX gave me the perks. The perks of doing what I do best in front of the entire world. I' making the most money I've ever made wrestling, I'm doing pressers, I'm on radio, I'm everywhere. You dweebs may not like me. You dweebs may never like me. Ever. But I can't honestly say that you people didn't have a part in that.

And that's real.

No BS in that. ALL of you, the PWX audience don't like me and trust me that's feelings mutual but when it comes down to it, I rather not wrestle anywhere else than here. I rather not steal the show for another company other than PWX. Because for the first time in seven years I can claim a promotion as my home. Because of PWX, I have been able to show everyone what I've already known and that's how divine I am. And that wouldn't have happened if you people didn't rave or rant about my matches, it wouldn't have happened if Lillith didn't give me the opportunity I had been outworking everyone to get.

Without PWX, I wouldn't have been able to become the face of PWX.

So that's what made it easy for me going into tomorrow night to be on Team Pariah as we go into Civil War will one goal in mind and that's ending the Establishment once and for all. And trust me, it should be Team Stone but I'm not going to argue about that because this is much bigger than Timmy Hunt being envious and quite bitter over how many times I consistently beat that man. Same goes to Pariah but this is bigger than that.

And really Darin, this is a shame. it's a shame it's come down to this because I never imagined when I came into this company that one day we would be on the opposite side of this battle instead of on the same side. Let's continue with this truth talk alright? While I was rising up the ranks in record time, beating everyone people called the best, Darin Zion was the only person that acknowledged it and accepted it; rather than everyone believing that what they were seeing wasn't an example of my superiority. I had to fight for respect around here because people didn't want to give me that. People didn't want to admit that I was beating their faves. People didn't want to admit that I was rising higher than the so called marquee names. People didn't want to give me credit because I'm smart enough to do whatever it takes to make sure I position myself upwards. No one but Darin Zion.

And it shouldn't be this way but it is and honestly Darin, and let's be honest, the best thing you did was accept the fact that Troy Stone and is probably already there to surpassing even you in the history of PWX as the greatest men that's ever wrestled in a PWX ring. Again this is Honestly Hour Darin. Let's be honest. The best thing you did was align the Establishment with the House of Stone. YOU came to me. You saw what me and the House were doing. Ina mere span on four months. FOUR months, we took over PWX. We won titles, we opposed our will, we smited anyone that tried to get on our level and every time we proved that we were just a lot better than the field. And you saw that. And that's why it made perfect business sense for the House and the Establishment to become one.

And there lies your biggest mistake.

Brian Hollywood.

You want to know another big reason I'm on the opposite side Zion instead of your team tomorrow night when we step into that cage; him. You look at the moment the House of Stone lost their grip on PWX, first month of the year. I get it. Hollywood finally realized teaming up with Noah Hanson wasn't relevant anymore and he turned on Pariah and join you guys. Match made in heaven right? Our relationship crumbling is because of him and your foolishness to actually side with him over the greatest performer that's ever stepped into a PWX ring.

Let's be real.

I"M THE BEST THIS COMPANY HAS EVER SEEN!

And I give this company a ton of credit for bringing me along with the amount of top names they had. Elijah Black, Nighthawk, Timmy Hunt, Timai Tyler, Pariah, etc, etc. I thank them for going out and actually finding this diamond in the rough but make no mistake about it, in thirteen months I've surpassed everyone. In thirteen months I've taken that spotlight that I worked my ass on on the indies and I've turned that into the greatest rise to ascendance, rise to divinity this company has ever witnessed.But yet you take his side, you listen to him but yet you don't listen to the man that made 2013 his year.

But then again, once upon a time you thought Adam Stryker would reach my spot.

Oops.

You've had a history of making bad decisions Zion but I looked pass that because of our friendship. Because being friends with you benefitted me. it benefited the rest of the House of Stone as well. it was good business. And when Hollywood came on board and whispered those sweet nothings in my ear, telling me what I already knew that I am the epicenter of PWX, I was cool with it.

And then he made Tiami put my babe on the shelf.

Troy pauses as Megan and Bruce look on.

Troy: I remember watching that match from the back. And we agreed their beef needed to be settled in order for the Establishment and the House can continue with our alliance because we needed to be on the same page. That's what I agreed on. That's what Zion agreed on and that's what you agreed on Hollywood. So what do you do? After Tiami beats my babe, you watch; you WATCHED as she broke her neck. You did NOTHING, NOTHING TO STOP HER! You didn't restrain her. You didn't tell her to back off. You sat in that commentary chair and you WATCHED the love of my life, the mother of my future children, you WATCHED Tiami attack her.

And since that moment Zion, our friendship meant nothing.

Our business deal met nothing because you let Hollywood soil what we had. And I fond myself week after week after week asking for an explanation from Hollywood and simply getting no answers. And that's when I started to realize our business deal wasn't helping us at all. Once I lost the PWX Championship to Ojeda, the same man you lost to that granted him that title shot, our deal with off. I don't need you two. I never needed you two! I'm Troy Stone! I've never needed anyone for those six years I gave EVERYTHING inside of me to make it this far! I never needed neither of you but what you two did to me and the rest of the House is a cardinal sin.

You went against your word.

When it comes to business, you undercut me. You went against what we agreed on and you went for business for yourselves. And you let Hollywood do it Zion. You let him influence everyone in the Establishment that what Tiami did to my babe was what needed to be done. Here I was outside HOSPITAL ROOM AFTER HOSPITAL WONDERING IF MY BABE WOULD EVER MOVE HER NECK AGAIN AND YOU TWO ARE FUCKING DOING BUSINESS FOR YOURSELVES!

You two have this coming to you tomorrow night.

This would have never happened if you didn't cross me. if you didn't betray me and I don't let things get personal. Because I can separate business from everything else but this is something I can't let slide. I cannot allow you guys to get away with making me lose my power, lose my grip, lose my spotlight, MY spotlight, in PWX. I can't let that slide. Every time I looked at my babe with a neckbrace around her neck, I couldn't let her slide. Every time I had to and just her pillow just to make sure her neck was comfortable enough to sleep on, I couldn't let it slide.

So what I did by ditching you two was best for me because it's all about me. I'm the be all, end all of PWX! I AM MR. PWX! I'm the one the last thirteen months that's put this company to heights it's never seen before. And you Hollywood you know that. You know no matter what you say, I did something you couldn't. LONGEST PWX WORLD HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPION IN HISTORY! HISTORY! I pass EVERY SINGLE title reign to your name. You got to three months, I got to five. No one looks above my run because it's above everyone else's and you knew that. Deep down you didn't want Troy Stone surpassing your legacy. Guess what?

I already haven.

So you can wait after a match in whcih you handicap me and force me to go 1 on 2 on 2 on 2 and you can wait to spill my blood like you did but guess what? Doesn't change a thing. Still the coolest and sexiest man in the world. You can replace the House with Tiami TYler and Vox. Doesn't change a thing. I'm the single handed reason why Vox is a thing and Tiami Tyler, when she was BEGGING; BEGGING for someone to seek pity on her last year I did and I brought her into the House of Stone fold. And she bailed on me. But look at that Hollywood,

She's the new World Champion.

And that's how everything comes into full circle. Everything makes sense. You used me, you used the House, all this time for Tiami Tyler? Tiami Tyler? The same girl that could never get over the hump until you YOURSELF had to literally make sure she had the easiest road to winning something I should have never lost. And now she's walking around here like she's the best. Like she's the best this company has to offer when Troy Stone is still alive. As long as I'm alive Tiami Tyler you will NEVER be better than Troy Stone. As long as I'm alive Elijah Black you will NEVER beat me. I've done in twice. I could do it four times, eight times, sixteen times. I could do it in old age. You will never be on my level. You can continue to bitch about me not giving you a rematch clause after I TOOK the championship away from you when YOU could have invoked anything you wanted to, still doesn't change the fact that you've never beaten me.

But you two constantly spew cryptic, nonsensical banter that doesn't even hold a shed of weight nor relevance nor meaning as if you two are complex. As if you two are more than what you are and that's not true. You got Hollywood gassing you three up like you three combined could ever equal Troy Stone.

Never.

Never in your lives. And tomorrow night the fate of PWX is on the line. Tomorrow night we're all in this fighting for one thing. Power. And the one thing that the Establishment have done is stolen the power that belonged to me. So everyone asked why would I team up with John Pariah; someone who I constantly badger and constantly remind him that he himself has never beaten me.

Because this is my company,

This is the company that at the end of my career I'm going to have to give my thanks to. As much as I don't admit that, this company is responsible for my career taking off the way it has the last thirteen months because it was this company that gave me my first taste of showtime. I will never like Timothy Hunt ever. I will forever rib John Pariah til the end of the time until he admits the truth that he is inferior to me. I will probably see Sterling James and Townsend down the road in which I'll beta them just like everyone else. No one on this team has ever come through when it matters the most.

Except me.

That's why I'm on this side. Because as much as these four are the last people I want to team with, they at least want to fight for PWX. They want to fight for the people and that's not me. I'm not fighting for these people. I'm fighting for my spotlight. The spotlight PWX gave me and the spotlight Establishment took from me. I'm fighting for the PWX that gave that kid who worked himself to death for those six years and gave him a chance. I'm fighting for that PWX that allowed Troy STone to do something no other company did. I'm fighting for the PWX that the Establishment are trying to take away. The PWX that allowed me to become the face and as the face I will not let the Establishment continue to have power by the end of tomorrow night. This is what I do best. Main event. I STEAL THE SHOW. I DELIVER EVERY TIME. But this isn't about delivering Establishment. Hollywood, Zion, this is about my wife who might never wrestle again. This is about the House of Stone, the allies that you turned away. This is about PWX. The company that gave everything to me. But most importantly this is about me, the one that will finally make you pay for ever trying to ruin everything I've done, everything that I've created and everything I am. This isn't about the spotlight, this is about my PWX. The PWX that you won't take away from the rest of the Pariah and from me. And that's what real.