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Robert "The Omega" Main · **07-27-2019, 05:47 PM**

_-_-_-_Undisclosed Location London England-_-_-_-

Robert stood in-between rows of tombstones erect in a peaceful hush, like a sea of the dead. Some of the headstones were collapsing with the weathering of centuries, some were polished marble with new ebony writing with fresh floral tributes. Most though were overgrown and unkempt, now even their grievers had joined them under the cool soil. Robert leered off in the distance as a new grave was in the process of been dug, awaiting its new tenant. He wondered to himself how could a place be so full and empty at the same time? All around him were the tombstones with their faded etching, a roll-call for the people who cannot answer. Whatever Robert had come here for is not here. This graveyard is full; full of stone, moss, and the decaying remnants of bone and flesh. Robert laid the Universal Championship over a gravestone kneeling.

Let's talk about a lower life form, a nut-less, unskillful man lacking finesse, a coward who realizes he's now so far out of his league all he can do is lie through his God damn teeth that I’ll be knocking out. This spray and pray pussy strategy, fashioned by fake news to mudslinging. This has become more of a pissing contest than anything else. A measure of who’s dick is bigger. Let's discuss the reality of this situation after I stomp your ass Page you will become part of that revolving door of douchebags that come and go regularly. Chris, you are a guy with some mental slowdown most likely born from heavy drug use. Page, your suburban bitch ass knows the word of the day and its defeat. All the smartass glances and lopsided smiles into a camera lens alluding to anything otherwise is a lie and you among all people know it. The time for using this company as tools to be used to further your own laughably deflated career is about to come to a halt. “Chronic”, not only am I going to fuck you up in that ring for everything that you have done to my brothers. I'm going to knock your fucking teeth out for you despicably deplorable untruthful despising of me.

Robert turned his head away from the camera placing his palm on the gravestone next to him. There was a savage irony within the gravestone. It stood there with its youthful incandescence, brawny, tough, and ready to last another century. Once in the ground sealed away it’s something permanent to mark something so transient. As the flesh returns to the soil, the memories evaporate, life extinguished forever. Mourners flock to this cold stone as if they can halt all that, make everlasting something it never can be. It's something to visit when they cannot bear the separation any longer. It is something tangible and dependable when all else is in turmoil, the love departs yet stone stays. Robert’s unsure why he has traveled halfway around the Earth to come here and feel the foundations of these stones crumble with his own bare hands. He knows it's absurd, but somehow this slice of rock steadies him.

Chris, I see you for what you truly a creepy grey-haired pea-brained transitional twat. A literal

dropping your britches like a 12-year-old with down syndrome every time you take a piss. You're an embarrassment to the XWF. Taking your leave whenever you feel the inclination like you're a pissed off child on the playground skipping away with his ball, or the feckless diva walking out at the drop of a bruised ego. But to be honest you are not either of those mentioned previously, numb-nuts, you're the one and only “Stoned” One, “Chronic” Chris Page, a no one who only succeeds in pissing off the few fans you have left, the brass and the roster and taking a monumental dump on convenience. You can't be counted on, you can't be trusted, go fuck yourself. You aren’t unbreakable, bitch, you aren’t intimidating and nothing you've ever done or said has meant shit to anyone. Do us all a favor after I rip your head off and shit down your neck. Leave. Don't come back, the XWF doesn’t need a transman who treats this all like a fair-weather concept, the XWF needs men and women who can hack it without hacking it up. Chris, you aren’t shit but bad ideas and lack of commitment. The old dogs ran you off once Chris, this time a young gun, a maverick get to do the honors. Sending you off into obscurity, where you belong.

Robert leisurely removes his hand from the gravestone continuing on

CCP. It’s honestly refreshing to see a man stick to his words, yet since crawling back in the front door you’ve been the same old sack of bullshit mixed with a dash of spinelessness. You unbelievably childish pussy, tell me how a man that’s nearly 50 cannot even admit to his fuck up’s what a dishonest cowardly ass hole you are. That's all you seem to do, Chris, you refuse to listen to anything anyone else has to say you must be the smartest guy in the room. Until you’re not. If you paid attention for a split second and did one ounce of research putting forth a minimal amount of effort into your popping off at the mouth with words you're going to inevitably suck back down those pipes. You're pathetic. You make me fucking sick. You have fucked up. Period; because that's what you are, a fuck up. A fuck-up who fluked his way into this match. People fear you here. Chris know this right now I’ not one of them. In fact, you aren’t on my list of opponents that make me nervous, you're on the long list of arrogant dickhead hacks who irritate me and can very much look forward to getting their puckered asses handed back after I've kicked them around like the fucking soccer ball. You aren’t no Champion, no king among men, you're a fraud. A phony. You’re not shit, and neither are your promos or in-ring ability.

Fuck what you've done, you know God damn well I'm a cut above you, we both know you fear The Omega and for good reason, I'm not goanna rest until I've beaten the last drop of will you have to be here in the XWF out of your hide. You are entitled to it like you deserve a point-blank shotgun blast in the freaking mouth. I’ve got an itchy trigger finger Page, and I cannot wait until I pull the trigger blasting what little fucking brains you have all over BUCKINGHAM PALACE. And by the way, if you're goanna tell me to try harder after I’ve legit shut you and all your partners down with a single fucking swoop. You might want to start living what you preach as opposed to what you’ve been doing, you hypocritical loser ass bum mother fucker.

Robert leapt to his feet motioning time out

But wait, Robert, you didn’t beat Chris Page by yourself you had help. Give me a fucking break. Is there a mark next to our victory Page? No, a win is a win no matter how they come. Freaking dick head.

A crow lands on the Universal Championship that’s draped over a tombstone to Robert’s left. It’s feathers black as tar wings of blackest feathers beat against the air as the crow cries out, a sound that sends shivers down Robert’s spine. He moves slowly noticing the crow is a scruffy imitation of what once was. Age has worn its feathers into tatters, an odd omission, there is a striking similarity between this bird of death and Chris Page. There was nothing but silence surrounding the two. Robert nods understanding the symbolism. Here he was in a cemetery filled to the brim with the dead, now a crow lands on the Universal Championship. Could this be it for Robert’s run as Champion? The traditional meaning with a Crow is associated with a bad omen or worse death. Once believed that when someone dies the Crow would carry their soul to the land of the dead. Robert squints his eyes unsure.

You stiff shrimp dicked ass hat. Hey Page, you should do me a huge favor and remain true to your inner butt pirate. You strike me as someone who hasn't gotten and poontang in a while theoretically, Tristan’s tranny back pussy doesn't count either fucker. I bet you drop your pants in public to take a piss, don’t you? The only males who should drop their pants and underwear to their ankles in public are

at the urinal. Point blank. Fuck Consistency can't see the link between your severe psychological weed addiction and the lack of ambition in quality both in and out of the ring. That and the fact you think this obvious fear tactic of firing at me with low caliber weaponry and ammo is goanna intimidate me. You pathetic fuckup. What you got planned next dipshit, four more well thought out promos that don't gel? Providing zero accuracy or truth, involving the always popular combination of Dick and you’ll be Universal Champion? On the flip side, it's sad to see wide-eyed pussy thinking' he's doing a good job of hyping the match with these cringe-worthy, sloppily filmed and scripted awkward scenes between him and his band of morons. Page, I own you literally, when the two of us square off one on one at Leap Of Faith.

Robert shoos the Crow away snatching the Universal Championship up shoving it into the camera.

Know this you punk ass bitch I owe you a beat down of a lifetime for your incomprehensible and unwarranted, unprovoked disrespect toward me and my Championship reign you cocksucker. Tonight, all of this comes to a head mother fucker. I end you. Or you end me. Now the final seconds of sand falls from the hourglass bit by bit. In this Deathmatch Chris, there isn’t going to be any excuses once the dust settles and the blood stops flowing. The old school loud mouth will meet the new school, and I’m about to teach a stone-cold bitch a few new tricks. I will come into this match with a vengeance pounding you into submission. I’ll leave nothing, but a greasy bloodstain on the canvas after I am finished. You’ll bleed more than a virgin after getting pounded for the very first time. Because we all know deep inside the twat of CCP is a hymen that Tristan just can’t seem to pop. This match isn’t about wrestling it’s about beating you to death. You are facing a man without limits, a diabolical, son of a bitch built for destruction. Do you think you can run circles around me in the ring? Page get a grip on reality, you are not even close to the man you used to be in or out of the ring.

I now rule the roost. You are washed up, finished. I’m here to tell you first hand, your time has passed and passed a long, long time ago. I’m sorry to burst your over-inflated ego. But you are not a big star anymore. You don’t fill the seats. You are nothing, but a man riding coattails. You have been overrated for years. Times have changed and for the better. No longer are the days of untalented wrestlers wrestling in front of arenas packed to the rafters. Times have changed dramatically Chris and for the better. That all started when you all left this business. When you left this company. There never was a passing of the torch either Chris, the men and women behind you simply took it from your lifeless hand’s years ago. The pain and suffering I am going to put you through will not compare to anything else that you’ve seen. See I don’t need a steel chair to beat you but rest assured, the first fucking chance I get to fold one up and bitch slap you with it. I’m going to do it and keep pounding away dismantling your crippled weed-smoking ass. This match isn’t about being a technical wrestler or even ability. This match is a backyard brawl, a bar fight, it’s about revenge.

I will smash you, Chris, you will screech out in agony, but no one will come and save you from your maker. With each blow I land on that oversized, overinflated ego of yours I will shave seconds off of your life. CCP, I am going to take from you the only thing that you have left to offer me. Your smile, your pride, you will. You’ll have to prove to me there is still a little bit of fuel still in that gas tank. Because the way I see it you have four flat fucking tires. I want the fight of my life. Because after it is all over, Chris those fifteen seconds of fame will be gone. You will become what you were years ago a fading memory. A blip on the radar. And after bathing in your blood, retribution will be mine. There will be no bending or reality when it suits you during this match Page.

Robert could feel the venom flowing through his veins as the anger switch flipped inside his core, he wanted to bit Chris Pages head off. There has always been real villains and heroes throughout history, yet in everyday life aren't we a bit of both? The real battle is how to be more hero and less villain. When we feel threatened? That's natural. When we are afraid, under pressure, unloved or simply scared. That’s when a hero or villain rises to the surface. Robert has evolved to have this survival mechanism. Robert’s anger has become a defense mechanism in this toxic state. He’s fighting the monster within limiting its salivating jaws. But once that bell rings. Robert realizes he can’t stop himself from becoming any better than Chris Page. Robert turns his back to the camera placing the Universal Championship over his shoulder maybe for the last time.

Your misfortune is you are so full of your bull shit you don’t see reality for what it truly is Chris. Like I said you wanted a match with me one on one so here we are. I’m going to stuff my boots so far up your ass the water on my knee will clench your thirst. Each turn you seem to insert your foot further into your mouth.

Robert begins walking away when a hand reaches out touching his left shoulder. Robert looks at Drew as they continue forward from the right James Raven enters the frame now on the other side of Robert. Followed by Ned and Centurion brining up the rear they all continue walking away as the scene fades to static.

_-_-_-_OUTRO_-_-_-

Tonight, I walk out as Champion getting my hands muddy once again. Tonight, I’ll make a stand. I’m going to fight until the death of me. I’ve never been on the run from any man and tonight will be no different. I’ve been threatened for the last time and I’m ready to die. Chris Page, you are not who you say you are. As I battle to my last breath, as my blood splatters the canvas, Page you will get the point. You will understand that I’m not going anywhere. I might die tonight. If I do, you’ll remember this night for the rest of your life. Tonight, I stand by everything I’ve ever said. I’ve got two graves dug, one for me and you Chris. If I go down, if the ship finally sinks at the very least I can say I never ran away.

Threaded Mode \| Linear Mode It's better to burn out than to fade away.
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