He sat there, body sore and sweaty from the grueling set of matches he'd just had. The Land of the Rising Sun always was rough. He knew this as well as any man, and especially so since he was a wrestler.

A wrestler. Not an entertainer. He didn't "fake it", and he always put his body through the extremes to get where he was. His official record in XWF was four and oh, his last match there was at War Games of 2015. A great showing was made on that grand stage but afterwards, he'd traveled to Japan and added about twenty more victories to this record.

He smirked. He knew that all this pain and hard work was worth it, because draped across his lap was a silver title belt with a Pit bull on the front of it and his name etched across the nameplate. This belt meant nothing in the realm of Xtreme and that saddened him a bit.

For his big victories and amazing showings in the XWF, he'd still yet been able to secure a championship. He leaned forward and grabbed a bottled water, the lid cracking as he popped it open and raised it to his lips gulping down the life giving substance.

He could feel the hunger moreso now due to this fact. He felt hungry; hungry like a wolf. He was lost in thought for a moment, staring down at the championship draped across his lap. He didn't even notice the man standing over him until the man spoke in a very distinct southern accent. "Good job kid, I'm proud of you. Ya done good out there tonight, all them people were chanting your name!"

It was always good to hear a familiar voice, and especially since it was his mentor. Marty had known the young superstar since he was five years old, when his father John Aries tagged with Marty as part of the Cranium Smashers. Some shit like that, you all know how 80's tag team names were.

He smiled up at Marty, pushing his dark red hair away from his face, letting it mat with sweat as if slicked back. "Thanks Pops, I thought you'd like it when I hit the spine buster and followed it up with that Sharpshooter. Did you hear that chap screaming? Fucking glorious!"

"Indeed, son. I reckon ya broke his back with that one. Kinda made the super kick seem like overkill...ya damped near took his head off!"

Quote:The Spinebuster Combo

His opponent whipped him into the ropes hard, the crowd cheering loudly at the fast paced action. Aries ducks a clothesline from the taller man, grabbing both his legs and hitting a picture perfect spine buster!

He grapevines his opponent's legs around his own and turns him belly down, wrenching backwards on the beautiful submission hold; bathing in the adulation of the Japanese crowd, talking shit to the referee the whole time. English, but it got the point across.

"Ask 'im, ref! Ask the fucker if 'e gives up!"

"He was about to tap! Why did you let it go like that, Alex?!"

If ever there was a cocky son of a birch in the world of professional wrestling, here he was. Sitting before a grizzled veteran with his bearded chin held high and an arrogant grin on his face. "Because my fans deserved to see The Best Dammed Super kick In The Universe! Who was I to deprive them of my greatness?" He said, standing up with a laugh.

Marty shook his head with a chuckle. "I've taught you well, haven't I?"

"Yea Pops..."

"...which brings me to my next point..."

"...hrm?"

Alexander tilted his head at his mentor, shouldering the silver title belt on his left shoulder. The man always had something useful to offer his young protégé, so it became expected that the grizzled veteran would help him advance his career.

Marty took a seat next to Alex, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a folded up contract. He gave the younger man a stern look. "Mind tellin' me what this is?"

Aries' smile faded as he saw the three letters at the top of the paper. When it came to business, this man was as serious as kidney failure. But he had an ill conceived notion.

X.W.F

"Ahem....well..."

The old man's glasses slid down to the tip of his nose as he eyed his protégé. "Alex...you know what this is, don't you?"

"Well...it's my XWF Contract. But you see, I figured the bloody thing was null and void since they fol-"

Marty shook his head. "They didn't fold, Aries. just needed to relocate the records and offices and such. Turns out, you're still under contract with the company, and quite lucky they ain't suing your butt for breach of contract."

"Oh..wow. Ya know, you're right about that. And judging from this program, I've been booked against some bloke named Mason Prince..." he said, looking at a second piece of paper provided to him by Marty. "...who in the bloody hell is Mason Prince?"

Marty shrugged. He too was honestly out of the loop as far as the XWF Roster went. He folded both pieces of paper up and shook his head. "Kid, I've no idea who he is. Some new guy claimin' he had a streak with the Xtreme Championship over there in the states. He thinks he's some big fish or somethin' around there too, like he's done won the Universal Championship twelve times or somethin'."

"Yeah right..." Aries scoffed. He'd seen the type before. Men who came into his world, claiming to be big and bad. While it may have been true that he was not a champion, he was legitimately undefeated. He looked over at Marty, inhaling a deep breath and letting it go as he unwrapped his fists. "...guess someone's gotta knock this little boy down a few pegs, eh old chap?"

"Umm...ya'll are roughly 'round the same age, cap'n."

"Hah! So what? I'm more experienced than him. I've been wrestling since I was fifteen, Marty. You know that! So this guy's a "boy" to me!"

"Calm down there, son. He beat Cain."

Aries scoffed. "DILLIGAF Marty?"

"Huh?"

"Do I Look Like I Give A Fuck? Cain's been beaten more than Peter Gilmour's non-existent dick. And judging from Mason's true record here, he hasn't won in over a month. Bloke looks like a bloody joke, if you ask me."

Alexander showed him his tablet, full of statistics on Prince. His dossier, if you will. He wasn't called an "assassin" for no reason. He was born into a family of assassin's and wrestler, he himself being a second generation of both professions. Oh and his mother? She was a championship Prize Fighter.

That's warrior's blood there, folks.

"Still, Alex, he's actually quite talented. Don't underestimate him." the older man looked at his protégé sternly. He was dead serious as he wanted to preserve the young man's undefeated streak. Marty stood up and arched his back with the groan of an older man who was very tired. The back injury that once caused him to retire was a nagging one. "Just sayin'. You need to study up on this guy, learn who trained him, and do what you always do."

A smile slowly crept over the Straight Edge Assassin's face. "Of course. Win."

---

---

---

"First of all, let me introduce myself to you Mason. My name is Alexander Aries and I am Best Dammed Wrestler In Existance! I have wrestled in Europe, I've wrestled in Africa, hell, I'd wrestle on the moon but I don't like the atmosphere. Just so you get the drift, I've been doing this for about twelve years, and your little Xtreme Title reign means jack to me."

"Congratulations on that, chap. But that's as far as it goes. A simple golf clap."

He does just that. A half hearted clap, a bored look on his face.

"So no, I'm not impressed. You, being the type of guy you are will probably come up with some sort of freestyle about me with your DJ. You'll try to make me angry, you'll claim you're the best in the business. You'll throw your money in my face."

At the end of the day, Mason?"

"You're a bloody loser. Yeah, yeah, yeah you kicked out of twenty some odd Xtreme title pins but those don't even count as wins. Those count as survival so you can't argue that with me."

"Your one biggest win was against Cain, a bloke who doesn't know his arse from a hole in the ground let alone himself. So you might as well just throw that rubbish straight where it belongs. In the toilet, just like your shit career."

"I'm still not impressed by you, Mason."

He leans back against the XWF logo in the background, folding his arms over his chest as an arrogant grin spreads across his face.

"What're ya gonna do, lad? Are ya gonna grit yet teeth? Raise your voice? Make sexual innuendo and then act like a frackin' nutter and pretend you don't know what it means? Did you eat today?"

"Strange question, I know."

"Was it mom's spaghetti?"

"Because quite frackin' honestly, it's not going to end up on your sweater. It's gonna end up in a bloody bed pan beside your bed in the ICU after I hit you with the Best Dammed Super kick In the Universe!"

"Are ya ready Mason? Cause this Wednesday night, Alexander Ariesaked his return. You may not know me now, but after Warfare, the concussion you suffer will leave you with one thought. It's quite simple, Princey..." Alexander chuckles. "...one shot, one kill."

"See you Wednesday."