"Greetings and salutations, XWF... it is I - Azrael Erebus, your friendly neighborhood spaceman, here to record a message for John Whyte. The man who eagerly shouted from the highest rooftop, beckoning any and all that could hear his voice, to step forward and challenge him. Then when I made my intentions known and management obliged my request, John Whyte threw a temper tantrum and proclaimed he was unjustly placed into a match against his will. I suppose the powers that be, should have realized that Whyte's words didn't carry any weight or true meaning and merely regarded him, much like they would a small child. Pat him on the head and hand over a cookie. Perhaps, I should have done the same. I mean, the man hasn't had a legitimate match in almost two years. Why should anyone take him seriously?"


"Clearly John assumed that's how it would go. That no one would take him seriously and he could simply toddle off to the next thing that caught his interest. With the same capacity as a fruit fly, might pay mind to something. That's why my request went unnoticed by the very man that boasted that he was going to be at the June 5th edition of Warfare, awaiting a worthy adversary. Because he had already forgotten his idle threats and worthless promises. Well John, suffice to say, you have now become the embodiment of the idiom: Be careful what you wish for, lest it come true... for that's precisely what occurred. You called for a challenger and here I am, ready and willing to oblige."


"Even if I have to drag you to the ring, this fight is going to happen. Of that there is no question. You can pout and cry, all you want, it will make no difference. Come Wednesday night Warfare, you will have the privilege and honor of being my first victory, after the long hiatus I took. Isn't that fantastic? You'll get to tell all your friends... both imaginary and stuffed animal; alike, that you got your head stomped in by Azrael Erebus. I'll make sure to autograph my name, right next to the large indention in your skull, so you even have proof. When you wake up in the hospital, after your nice long nap, you'll be able to hold up a mirror and see it. See, I'm a nice guy like that and because of that act of kindness, you'll be worth a significantly larger sum of value, opposed to what you were priced at before you encountered me, within the squared circle. Until you wash your head, of course."


"That being said, you have sparked some curiosity. The way you insult and scrutinize others, judging them rather crucially and critically, in spite of never doing anything of value yourself. It is quite baffling to say the least. You had the audacity to call me a 'has been' but from what I can tell, merely a small bit of research shows that you're a 'has never been'... as in John Whyte (Blaq) has never been significant or noteworthy, during his entire career here in the XWF. If you can even call it a career. Really you're nothing more than a glorified spectator. Rain... without the big hair and make-up. And yet, you think you're capable of passing judgement on others? Really? When you haven't done anything of importance, whatsoever. You couldn't reference an account in which you were credited as being outstanding... let alone, passably relevant, to save your life. So who are you to judge anyone's merit or quality of character?"


"The answer is simple, you're not fit for such a task. You're a loud mouth, false flagging, imbecile. You make talentless hacks and pathetic, lackluster, walking jokes, like Peter Gilmour and the combined unit of AGK, seem like competent, well balanced individuals. What is your purpose here? Do you even have an agenda or are you merely killing time between welfare checks and visits to the local food pantry, where you acquire your government cheese. You can't be making any substantial income in the XWF as a means of supporting yourself, since you don't do anything. Nothing that would allot you a paycheck, anyway."


"So it isn't the money that brings you, stumbling into the building, in order to share your 'words of wisdom' with any available ear that'll listen. Which makes me wonder... why are you here? What is your motivation? Your drive? It isn't to wrestle, based on your reaction to our upcoming match, it's obvious you weren't expecting a real fight. You wanted to go unnoticed and unheard. Forgotten and buried in the dust. You were counting on it and when the unthinkable happened, when you were granted the very thing that you pretended to desire most. A fight on Warfare. Everything fell apart and your world imploded. So then I ask you... I beseech you, what's the point, in any of it? Why are you here?"


"I can tell you why I'm here... I'm here because I enjoy a good skirmish. Wrestling is a form of entertainment for me. I'm a warrior, it's in my blood. When you have experienced as much time on the battle field as I have, you obtain a taste for combat. Even when there's no war to be had, you yearn to fight. You'll accept the option of a fray, regardless of where it's held. Just to experience the thrill of a well fought battle. That urge... the need, it never goes away. That's why I fight. For the pleasure of kicking the shit out of my opponent. The fame and fortune is irrelevant. I wrestle because I carry an insatiable passion for combat. Once a warrior, always a warrior. Till your very last, dying breath."


"That is why when I look at you and see the mockery that your very presence embodies, I want nothing more than to put an end to you. Your disrespect invokes only my wrath and come Wednesday night, you will experience the spaceman's fury and all that it entails. The pain that you endure, will surpass the threshold of tolerance for any mere mortal and that agony, will set the bar for future beatings to come. Should you survive and decide to return to the XWF after what will only promise to be a very long stint of recovery. Whenever you cast even the slightest glance towards a wrestling ring, an involuntary shudder will overtake you as the memory of our fight engulfs your mind. Like a wildfire, ripping through arid California. It will ignite and the inferno will devour you once more. For you will have felt the burn, the relentless flame that accompanies my rage and will be forever scarred because of it. Similar to the countless hoards of others that came before you and the rest that will follow. When I am through with you... you will never be the same."




"What do you want?"


Rebel Star asked as she averted her eyes away from the spaceman. Her expression quite cold and bitter. Azrael had taken the initiative to randomly appear in her apartment, timing his arrival to coincide with her own return. So as soon as she turned from the front door, after locking it, he appeared. Stepping out of nowhere and everywhere, all at once. She barely seemed phased when she saw him, which was gut-wrenching to say the least but a million times better than getting punched in the face. Again.


"To talk. I mean, after our last encounter, I felt a discussion was in order."


"I have nothing that I need to say."


"So you want to leave things as they are..."


"I believe I made my point."


"You definitely left me with a lasting impression."


Azrael scoffed as he narrowed his eyes, brows scrunching in the process. This was not going the way he had hoped. Fighting off his growing disappointment, he sighed and gave another attempt at a peaceful resolution.


"Fine. Then I'll just flat out ask you... why? Why are you upset with me? Why did you hit me? What did I do to deserve that sort of treatment from you?"


Or he would desperately riddle her with questions, cross his fingers and hope for the best.


"It's what you didn't do... that's why I hit you."


"What does that mean?"


"When you locked yourself away in Rocket's mind, you didn't tell me your reasoning behind that hair brained scheme or explain any sort of end game scenario. You didn't tell me anything. You were just gone and I had to deal with it. Not knowing when you were coming back... if you were coming back. There was no one I could ask about it either because everyone was equally in the dark. Grasping at straws, trying to unravel the mystery. No one was privvy to the knowledge cause you didn't confide in anyone. You didn't find it necessary to include anyone, when you devised your plan. No one that I communicate with or speak to anyway. You didn't even have the decency to leave a note. So I had no choice in the matter. I had to accept the situation and continue onward, business as usual, waiting and worrying, all the while. Hoping and praying for some kind of sign. Some indication that you were okay and you would come back to me. Do you realize how unbelievably shitty that was? To do that to someone that you supposedly love? I was a total wreck, you fucking broke my heart. Damn straight, I punched you. You deserved that and so much more..."


Her voice trailed off as she bit her lip. Then with a flare of aggression, she lobbed the closest item, directly at Azrael's head. Which happened to be a coffee cup, that was stationed on her kitchen counter. Much to Rebel's dismay, Azrael dodged the projectile and the cup smashed to pieces against the wall.


"What the fuck?!?"


Next up, a vase full of flowers. Azrael ducked, eyes wide and bewildered.


"By the sanctioned gods, woman! Calm the fuck down!"


Incoming, a frying pan. Yet again, Azrael avoided the impending impact and the wall took the punishment.


"Damn it, Rebel! Stop throwing shit!"


With her hand on another coffee mug, Rebel considered throwing it but then stopped and crossed her arms in front of herself. Cautiously, Azrael took a couple of steps forward, passing a quick hand through his hair.


"I couldn't risk Maxwell, finding out the truth. That's why I couldn't share any information. Trust me when I say, if there would have been a way for me to tell you my intentions, without also alerting Maxwell to my plan, thus making it all for naught, I would have told you. I swear on the lives of my children, I would have made you aware of what I was doing."


Long, heavy sigh.


"I never meant to hurt you or cause you any suffering and I always intended to return. That was always part of the plan."


Walking over to Rebel, Azrael reached up and placed his hand under her chin. Gently lifting her face, he directed her sights up to him.


"I am so sorry."


His voice came barely above a whisper, as he gazed deep within her eyes.


"Please. Forgive me. I love you. You're my luminescent moon and shimmering stars. The very sustenance for my survival. I need you. Without you, dare I say... I don't think I'd have the strength to do anything. Much less take down Maxwell Maximus."


"No more secrets?"


"No more secrets."


A promise sealed with a kiss. Could the man from the stars, who spent most of his life shroud in secrets, dwelling on the cusp of mystery and the unknown, really keep true to his word or was this simply another lie? A mere drop in the pool, so to speak? Alas, only time would tell...

2x Universal Champion (First reign was less than a day though, lol. Due to Sebastian Duke cashing in his briefcase.)
2x Tag Team Champion
3x Triple Tag Team Champion
1x Television Champion
2x US Champion (Title retired during my second reign as champ.)
2x X-Treme Champion
1x Bombshell Champion
2x HMW Champion
2x SOTM