He didn't want to make a big deal out of it.

Centurion knew he was coming up on 200 wins, and while he wasn't exactly sure when he would hit that number, he knew it was likely to happen by the end of the year. While the accomplishment is impressive, it isn't as great as a title belt or some other prestigious award, and to him, it's just another milestone that he needed to pass in order to continue his quest to extend his career and make doubters out of his critics.

Therefore, despite the objections of those closest to him, Centurion has declined the opportunity to have a celebration, and instead has opted to have a nice, quiet day at home. 

…Yeah, that wasn't going to happen.

We open up outside the front doors of the Hard Rock Casino in Atlantic City, New Jersey. There, we see that a crowd of folks have gathered, all patiently waiting as they talk to one another, as a few body guards and hotel staff stand in between them and the road. The murmur of the crowd is suddenly silenced as a stretch limo pulls up. The staff all instantly walk up to the limo as the driver steps out of the car. One of the hotel staff opens the back door of the limo, and out steps a suit clad Centurion. The crowd starts to cheer as Centurion adjusts his tie and brushes off pants. Behind him steps Ruby, followed by Nellie and Erin. The only other man in a suit, who is very clearly a manager at that casino, steps forward to greet the group. 

"Welcome home, Mr. Cortinovis." The manager says at he shakes Centurion's hand. "And thank you for choosing the Hard Rock for your celebration destination this evening."

"Thank her." Centurion says, pointing to Nellie. "I was perfectly fine just sleeping."

"Also would have been a great choice, haha!" The manager says in one of the fakest laughs imaginable. He shakes the hands of the rest of the group as his employees stand close. "Is there anything I can get for you or prepare for you?"

"Book me for a massage in an hour." Centurion says as he rubs his neck. "Also, have the bartender fix us up four Pink Russians, and if anyone here makes fun of me for holding a pink drink, I'll hit them with a brick." Centurion says that last part as he points to his entourage, but it's the manager who responds.

"We wouldn't dream of it. I'll get those over to you right away." The manager reaches into his inside jacket pocket and pulls out a small clipboard, with a pen attached to it. "Will you be taking out a line of credit with us this evening?"

"Of course." Centurion says as he extends his hand out to take the clipboard. "What do you think, $500,000 sound good?"

"It sounds marvelous to me, Mr. Cortinovis." The manager responds with a big smile. Centurion signs the clipboard before handing it back to the manager. The manager then hands a card over to Centurion, who slides the card into his own inside jacket pocket. "Enjoy your stay, and be sure to let any of our staff know if there is anything we can do to assist you."

The manager walks away, and the rest of the staff escorts Centurion and his crew into the casino. Centurion smiles and waves to the fans, who haven't stopped cheering or snapping pictures. Centurion stops before he walks into the casino and poses for a minute so folks can get their photos of him, before the four of them walk in. 

"A Pink Russian?" Nellie inquires the moment they step through the doors and out of hearing range of the fans. "That's random."

"Tequila rose is good for my stomach." Centurion responds as he pats the side of his stomach. "The last thing I need is a three day recovery period when I have a match at the next Savage."

The other three pause in silence, before Nellie quickly turns her head to face Ruby. "I blame you."

"Blame away, Nellz!" Ruby says in an excited tone. "I for one am happy to see my mans learning the limits of his alcohol consumption, and taking into account the negative effects of going too far. I think others in our group could benefit from learning moderation."

"Oh, don't look at me." Nellie quickly answers. "I am not a drunk. Besides, if I don't have my wine, I have to put up with people, and people are the WORST!"

"...we will loop back to that later." Ruby says in a concerned voice. "But I actually wasn't talking about you."

Ruby and Centurion slowly turn their heads towards Erin, who is completely oblivious to what is going on. Instead, she spots the waitress approaching the four of them with their drinks, and begins to slap. As the waitress steps to the group, Erin immediately grabs a drink and takes a sip. 

"...alright, I get your point." Nellie says as she grabs two glasses, handing over to Ruby before sipping the other. Centurion takes the final drink, and the four walk further into the building and onto the casino floor.

"So, what are you all up for first?" Centurion asks as he looks around at the various table games. "Of course, I'm always a sucker for baccarat, but I could also go for some blackjack right now, too."

"I'm going to play craps." Nellie answers as she grabs a hold of Erin's arm. "And I'm taking my good luck charm with me. You two should join us."

"What, and watch you continuously throw money in the toilet?" Centurion says with a smirk. "No thank you. We'll catch up with you later."

Nellie and Erin walk away, headed towards the nearest craps table. As they do, Centurion lets out a big yawn before taking a sip of his drink.

"You don't want to be here." Ruby says with a frown. "You're just doing this to appease Nellie."

"Yeah, pretty much." Centurion responds earnestly.

"Let's just tell Nellie that I'm not feeling well." Ruby says as she looks up at Centurion with a sad look in her eyes. "She'll believe me, and she's never been one to say no to me."

Centurion kisses the top of Ruby's head. "It's fine. If I wanted to rest, I would have called the hotel ahead of time and had them slip me a hotel key while I was signing in for my line of credit."

Ruby takes a sip of her drink and nods slightly, before she catches on to what Centurion was saying. She quickly looks back at Centurion, who had the hotel room key in his hand. Centurion and Ruby quickly down the rest of their drinks before placing them on a random table next to them. The two run out of sight as the camera fades.

—---Yeah-Heah!-------

We reopen inside a library. Seated at a table, with books in front of him, is Centurion. The rest of the library is cleared out, and Centurion slowly leafs through one of the books before raising his head and looking into the camera.

"I have said over and over again that my one true goal is to test my skills in the ring against opponents I have not faced before. The world is full of professional wrestlers looking to make it big. Some are fantastic performers who just need a spotlight, while others need to get real and find a job that actually suits them. Either way, I want to see for myself.

Which is why I was more than happy to face off against Schism this week. A new name, a new face…or so I thought.

It turns out, this man has been in the XWF before. After I found that out, my next thought was "great! Another name from the unmentionable era that I can bring down!" I love doing that. But then I was informed that, no, Schism wasn't around back then. In fact, he was around as recently as 2021…"

Centurion looks back down at the book and quickly flips through some pages. He gets a frustrated look as pages turn in rapid succession before Centurion lifts his head back up.

"I don't know who the fuck you are, Schism.

Seriously, I've been combing through the archives for days, trying to find as much information on you as possible, and all I could come up with is that you're French, and you had a decent match against Marf. That's literally it. You might as well be some random off the street with no fingerprints."

Centurion glances back down at the book, and smiles.

"Though, I don't know what I planned on finding in here. This is just a copy of Go Set a Watchman."

Centurion quickly slams the book shut and folds his hands in front of him on the table.

"I have to be honest with you, Schism…you have me in quite the pickle here. I come in as a heavy favorite in this match, and yet I know very little about you. I don't know your style, I don't know what you plan on doing in this match - it's a complete crapshoot as far as I'm concerned, and I get the feeling that is intentional. See, other wrestlers who are relatively new, you may not have seen them wrestle, but you can get a read on them just by looking at them. You can tell by their attitude, the way they dress, how they look - all these things can point to a wrestler's personality and, thus, what style they bring to the ring.

But not you, Schism. No, you keep things pretty close to the vest. 

I mean, if I wanted to make an assumption about you based on your appearance, I'd assume you're some vagrant who knows dick about professional wrestling and the only thing you rely on are punches and kicks; however, I choose not to assume that about you, and that's for two reasons.

The first reason is because I've seen this game before. I've seen folks walk in like they're homeless, only to be gods in the ring. Hell, you could argue that's Goth - he's sure not much to look at, but the dude can fly around the ring and put up a fight with the best of them. I get the feeling you're one of those people who like to live in the shadows, not letting anyone know anything about you, and hoping you can pick off your opponents who take too much time underestimating you. 

The second reason I'm making this assumption is because I have to. It's the only way you can beat me, because if you ARE just some homeless nobody who does nothing but punch and kick people…then I'm going to straight up murder you.

And there's no WAY the XWF officials would allow that to happen, right? I might talk a lot of shit about Vinnie and Theo and…whoever the hell the GMs are, but I do know, unlike the previous administration, there is a level of humanity there. Sure, they want to put out the best product in order to entertain folks and get them to keep watching and spending their money, but they're not so barbaric that they're willing to watch some rando get torn apart for someone's amusement. Chris Page isn't running the helm here. They just simply wouldn't do that…

…would they?"

Centurion taps his chin as he gets a quizzical look on his face.

"I guess…if they saw no inherent value in you, and saw you as nothing more than a body to be used to collect a few bucks before you're tossed aside, maybe. If all they know about you is that you're a roster member who likely has no future in this business, and they were looking for some way to showcase a legend who just passed a huge milestone by tossing him some random jobber wrestling for ten bucks and a hot dog, then maybe they would do that.

But what's the likelihood of that, huh?

No, I'm just going to approach this match assuming you're a newer wrestler looking to make a name for himself, and that makes you dangerous to me. It's the kind of competitor that has taken me down many times this year, and quite honestly, I'm getting pretty fucking sick of it. I didn't mind losing to Raion Kido because I knew he was going to be a huge star. I was pretty mad when I got beat by Goth. But losing to Max Daemon over in the WGWF it the last fucking straw. So show me what you got, Schism, because I'm in a foul mood, and I need someone to meet their…

FINAL FANTASY!!!