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Robert "The Omega" Main · (05-17-2019)

Undisclosed Location

A few weeks ago we all witnessed something many believed would never happen, then within a bat of an eye, this nanosecond in time came to pass. “HH” put it best when he said hell just froze over. The world was glued to their televisions as the smug, egotistical ass hat “Chronic” Chris Page strutted his way out from behind those curtains confronting the boss man Vinnie Lane. The biggest thing that caught me off guard wasn’t that Page returned, this is the XWF and one can never say never. What left me speechless was his decrepit broken-down ass didn’t need a walker. So, I sat back and propped my feet up grabbed a nice glass of Maker's Mark gawking at my television deliberating what would be next, why this man determined now was the time to rear his gruesome head once more. Then Chris opened that manure spreader he calls a mouth. Chris, then decided to stick his foot directly into his pie hole, come Wargames I’ll make sure my foot is stuck firmly up his ass. Page, seeing how you and I have never meet let me introduce myself.

Off in the distance, an amber dot abruptly begins to glow then slowly dissipates retreating into the darkness. The night was a distinctive version of dinginess, the kind that desires the stars, clinching them ever so tightly, assisting them so they can twinkle more dramatically. The night was sweltering as the ebony embraced everything, within its impregnability Robert could sense his own psyche unquestionably, an uncorrupted, untarnished spark. In the serenade of charcoal, the stars above become the choir. They are the illuminations that harmonize with the world around them in unbounded tunes. As they sing their soft lullaby the cherry red glow maneuvers closer and closer as Robert reveals himself from the shadows of the tree line behind him. He takes a moment peering up at the heavens before lowering his head focusing on the camera.

Robert positions himself as if his feet were stuck in cement placing both hands on his hips before leisurely walking towards the camera. The Universal Championship laying comfortably over his shoulder, getting enough light from the stars to gleam, filling the night with a beacon. He grins as he discharged the cigar from his fuchsia lips, he blew the smoke in the air meticulously as if it was the repercussions of a kiss that ached to misappropriate a life he was bending over backwards to circumvent. Robert siphoned the exhaust from the cigar deeply into his lungs recollecting all the warnings but not worrying about them. For a moment he clutched the cigar between his fingers at his side before placing it back between his teeth trapping it there. He again draws in the smoke squinting his eyes before speaking.

Chris Page I’m Robert “The Omega” Main, the XWF Universal Champion, the man perched at the top of the totem pole. The litmus tests for this generation and I’ll be goddammed if a relic from days gone by, forgotten in time decides to come into this house dust off the boots he hasn’t laced in years and walk all over the company I call home. (Robert pauses pointing in the direction of the camera) Maybe we have been out there pounding our chest and rightfully so, we’ve issued challenges to any man or woman who has intestinal fortitude, we’ve poked and prodded asking who had enough backbone to dispute or beliefs. We’ve taunted, provoked the entire wrestling world whishing a mother fucker would. Page we’ve summoned any world-class athlete to come here and demonstrate how erroneous we are. We’ve never been shy about throwing down the gauntlet. (Robert waves his index finger back and forth) Here’s the best part of this entire story. Any and everybody who’s stepped forward? They’ve been sat down, and this is no different Page.

Issuing these ultimatums bring certain risk with them, you just never know what vile vermin might take the bait. Point and case you for fucktards. But that’s the beauty in this entire situation you just never know. (Robert shrugs his shoulders) That being said, here’s where you screwed the pooch pal, you called our bluff and this time around, you’ll be put down parentally. See you made a terrible miscalculation, you assumed you’d just prance back into the company and get a match against a few nobodies. You didn’t expect James Raven and this oversight will be the straw that breaks the camels back. Or in this case yours. Normally when my brother from another mother has an issue, 99.999999% of the time sit back and watch the commander and chief of wrestling surgically strike decapitating his opposition so forcefully they never saw it coming. When you issued an open challenge, at first, I ignored everything you had to say then things got a bit more interesting when my tag partner got involved. When James Raven strolled out onto that stage and faced you Chris I honestly didn’t know if you were going to shit or cry.

Raven is a taskmaster playing a fine chess match while people like you “Chronic” Chris Page are playing checkers. He’s lightyears ahead, once that bell sounds it’s too late. Tell me Page how many times has James Raven kicked those pearly whites down your throat? I would have thought by now you would have learned a lesson or two. But like I stated before you didn’t see this one coming. It’s apparent there a certain lack of intelligence coursing through those veins of yours. I’ve seen some brainless moves in my life Chris, hell, I’ve even made a few here and there. But to accept a confrontation against Raven and an unannounced team of his choosing is ignorance at its finest. It’s suicide. James has had this thing mapped out from jump street, you should have known better and backed off. You like to say you don’t write checks you can’t cash. Page I hate to break little tidbit to you but this time you did just that. You bit off way more than those oversized jaws could ever chew.

Tell me a time in history where James Raven hasn’t been armed to the teeth with an army behind him willing to lay their careers on the line. Point out a time where James hasn’t outsmarted his adversaries. When we got the call from him it was a no brainer we didn’t hesitate, we didn’t waiver, I placed the phone on speaker as I looked over at Drew who was resting comfortably on my couch with Harley our Rottweiler and we said yes. Now APEX will step forward with our swords and shields ready to lay it all on the line for a brother in need. You are in an altercation you simply cannot win. Now you Chris Page and those three broken-down turds have become the old yellers of wrestling and we are ready to pull the trigger on all four of you. I’ll admit one thing Chris Page you’ve got a thunderous bark, but rarely the dog with the biggest bark has a bite to back it up.

Robert halts for a moment as Drew steps into the frame standing next to Robert with a shovel laying over his shoulder and his third of the Tag Team Championships around his waist. Robert looks to Drew nodding

Bob question where we doing this?

Let’s wait on them to get here and we will grab all our gear. I’ve got a perfect place where nobody will find them.

How deep we going to dig?

Deep enough to where no one will find them.

Four spots?

Robert nods

How’s Kayla?

Robert shoots Drew a dirty look

I see you have a stick in your ass again.

This is serious. This isn’t the time or place to talk about my sister or either of your love lives.

Pound town Bobby!

Drew reaches out for a fist bump which Robert rejects altogether

Keep it up and we’ll be digging a fifth spot for you.

Drew screams scaring the shit out of Robert who jumps

What the hell are you doing man? You just scared the shit out of me.

Letting out a War cry Bob.

Robert smirks

Page, MDK, FUZZ, Rage. I’m going to do what I always do I’m going to take the first crack at the four of you. I’ll keep the machine gun fire coming until each of you fall over or give up altogether. I’ve always had an itchy trigger finger and the gun I carry has no safety and these bullets will make each of your asses see through. The four of you are nothing more than white trash crotch captains There is nothing more abysmal than a couple of tone-deaf sphincter hounds. Page you asked for this melee and now that we are stepping up to the plate for the XWF we are going to baptize the four of you before we even step foot inside the squared circle. You four have no fucking idea what is about to happen to you, dead on arrival is an understatement, your dead in the water and don’t even realize it. After we dissect each one of you, then end what’s left of your careers. You’ll have no one to blame for this but yourself. You made the error you had a lap in judgement and this slip is going to cost each one of you dearly. It wasn’t that XWF was out there asking for a prize fight, you were starving for attention, all four of you. Each one of you needed something more. You needed that limelight to shine on each one of you once more.

Each of you desperately crave a feather in your cap. Page you overplayed your hand, you pushed too hard and now we're pushing back. Four of a kind will never beat a royal flush. I can guarantee you this Page, MDK, Rage and Fuzz, no one is paying one bit of attention to any of you dick heads, and to think anything else would be a complete and utter absurdity. I want to let the four of you nincompoops in on a secret. You should put the kibosh on this whole thing right now before you incapacitate yourselves even further. Or before we erase you from existence altogether. I’d hate to see the four of you try to come up with an original thought. Between the four of you, there might be half a brain. You four men clinging to anything you can because no one remembers any of you or anything you’ve done. You’ve all become so butthurt because XWF has been ripping the wrestling world to shreds and there isn’t a damn thing anyone can do about it, besides step up like you four have and then bend over and take it like the bitch’s each of you are. When “The Omega” reacts it means hearses, Wargames its curtains gentlemen, the show will be over.

Suddenly headlights gleamed bravely into the night only to be swallowed by the pressing darkness. Robert and Drew didn’t move a muscle as the Ford Raptors bumper came to a stop just at their feet. They each watched as the roaring engine cuts off and the doors to the cab open revealing two silhouettes. Drew pierces his shovel into the ground crossing his arms with a smirk. James Raven walks into the frame with a shovel of his own and his third of the Tag Team Championships over his shoulder, he then greets Robert and Drew shaking each of their hands. Centurion enters the frame shovel in hand fist-bumping each or his teammates. The four men stand tall facing the camera. As the camera fades.

Apex Prophecy

To Be Continued

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