2021 has been a wild year in Centurion’s career, but the most action-packed part of the year hasn’t even taken place yet. While other people will be enjoying the holidays as a time for rest and relaxation with family, Centurion will be grinding and pushing his way through one of the busiest stretches of the year. A match with Larry Tact, a War of Independence explosion with Chris Page, sandwiched between two contests in the XWF. Centurion has one goal in mind – win them all, and enter 2022 as one of the hottest wrestlers on the planet.

In order for that to happen, however, Centurion is going to need to be as healthy and prepared as possible.

Luckily, he has brought aboard Nellie as his manager, who is far more in tune with the new and innovative ideas that keep athletes going strong. Gone are the days when a wrestler would hit the gym, watch tape, and drown himself in alcohol as his daily routine. Now, it’s all about body and mind management, which, if used correctly, can lend to a long and prosperous career for many professional athletes, including wrestlers.

We open up inside what appears to be some kind of doctor's office. Centurion is laying on a table, though sitting up, wearing a pair of gym shorts and a t-shirt. Nellie is sitting just off to the side, and a third person, assumingly a doctor with short hair and glasses, stands at the opposite end of the medical table, near Centurion’s feet. Centurion has his shoes and socks off, and the doctor points to various parts of his feet.

“You see here.” The doctor begins in a thick Irish accent. “This is what ends up causing so many problems in pro wrestlers.” The doctor points to the middle of Centurion’s foot. “Because of the fighting stances, and the moving in the ring, you’re putting so much weight on your back foot. Any time you plant your right foot, it puts pressure on your arches. So many fighters get flat feet because of the bouncing they do on those hard canvasses.”

“That makes a lot of sense.” Centurion responds as he nods. “Especially in my later years, I’ve adopted a more combative style – lots of strikes and stuff – so I can see why foot is taking such a beating.”

“Most don’t even think about it.” The doctor continues. “They just keep going and going until it messes up other parts of their body. Pain in the hips, legs, lower back – all of it can be traced to issues in the feet.”

“Is it something we can work on?” Nellie asks, somewhat concerned.

“Oh yeah.” The doctor answers, reassuringly. “I can show you some exercises that you can do to keep it loose. I also recommend getting one of those toe spreaders, and sleep with them on. That will stretch out the fascia. I can also do some things now that will get your feet in perfect health, but it’s going to be HORRENDOUSLY painful.”

The doctor looks up at Centurion with very serious, almost consoling eyes. Centurion, however, just sort of shrugs off the comments. “I’ve been through some of the most pain inducing matches in the world. There’s nothing you can do to me that will hurt me.”

Centurion looks over at Nellie and smiles. Nellie, for her part, just raises her eyebrows and gives the “if you say so” look. The doctor looks up at Nellie, who just casually nods in his direction, giving him the ok to continue. He grabs onto Centurion’s foot and begins applying pressure. For a few seconds, it feels like a foot massage, but as the doctor gets deeper and deeper into the tissue and the muscles of the foot, the pain begins to rise significantly. Centurion yells out in pain as he lays his head back.

“Unholy fucker of mothers!” Centurion screams. “I can feel that all the way into my brain!” Centurion pulls his foot away from the doctor and clutches it as he looks back at him with a shocked expression. “What was that?!”

“The muscles in your foot have shifted.” The doctor responds answers as he traces the outside of Centurion’s foot. “That’s why your big toe is pointed inward. I’m shifting the muscles back to the outside of your foot. This will allow you to completely avoid surgery.”

Centurion’s eyes widen in surprise. “Really? All because of what you’re doing to my foot?”

“Yeah.” The doctor answers earnestly. “Trust me when I say this – everything, apart from any pain you may have in your arms and shoulders, can be traced back to your feet. You get this straightened out, it gives everything else a chance to heal.”

The doctor takes his hands and grabs Centurion’s foot again. This time, he digs hard into the bottom of his foot with his thumbs, causing Centurion to wretch in pain again. Centurion takes his foot away and grabs it, causing Nellie to laugh.

“He barely touched you!” Nellie says, jokingly.

“You can shut the fuck up.” Centurion angrily yells as he points over at Nellie. “I swear, I think this is the worst pain I’ve ever felt in my life. Tearing my LCL wasn’t nearly as painful as this.”

“Yes, but look.” The doctor points to Centurion’s toes, which have slightly straightened out. “You can already start seeing a difference. I could stop now, if you want. Do you have any matches coming up?”

Centurion let’s out a slight snicker and looks over at Nellie, who just laughs. “Yeah, a few.” Centurion responds. “Four matches in five days, to be exact. One of them is an MMA bout, where I’m going to be doing a lot of that stomping and planting that you talked about earlier.”

“Well, in that case...” The doctor acknowledges “...we better get back to it, then. You might want to give him one of those towels.”

The doctor points behind Nellie, who looks around and spots a pile of towels on a shelf. She grabs one and tosses it over to Centurion, who arches his eyebrows and looks really confused. “What’s this for?” Centurion asks as he looks over the towel. “You’re not going to make me shower, are you? Because you’re going to have to buy me dinner...”

Centurion’s words are cut off as the doctor gets Centurion’s foot in a headlock. He quickly grabs the towel and bites on it as the doctor applies more pressure. The towel muffles out his screams as Centurion lays his head back and puts his hands over his face. After a few seconds, the doctor lets go, and Centurion’s arms drop to the side. He takes the towel out of his mouth and drapes it over his face.

“I will be taking no questions at this time.” Centurion says in a pained, exhausted tone.

“Oh, you big baby.” Nellie says in a mocking tone.

Centurion grabs the towel and throws it at Nellie. “You’re next.” Centurion says, angerly. Nellie just laughs as a response as the doctors stands up.

“Wiggle your toes.” The doctor commands to Centurion.

Centurion does as requested, and moves his toes. As he does, his face brightens up. He flexes his foot, and moves his ankle around in circles, and has a big smile on his face as he does. “Wow!” Centurion exclaims. “That’s absolutely incredible.”

“Feel better?” Nellie asks.

“Better?” Centurion responds. “I haven’t had this range of motion in years. And I can feel it loosen up in my knees, too. It’s almost like a muscle relaxer was shot through my entire body.”

Centurion stands up from the table and takes a few steps around the office. He bounces back and forth a bit, testing the strength and durability of his feet, before glancing over at Nellie with a giant smile on his face.

“Oh....yyeeaahhhhh...”

------Ice Cream Topped With Honey------

We reopen inside a private club. The place has been cleared out, save for Centurion, sitting on a red leather couch. He is wearing a high-priced suit and a hat, with a glass of scotch on the hardwood table in front of him. In his hand is a cigar, which he takes a puff from. As he exhales, he takes the cigar and places it in the ashtray next to him before reaching over and grabbing his glass of scotch.

“HGH. Harmon Greyson Hays. You know, it would be really easy for me to sit here and say that I don’t know you. After all, you haven’t done anything of substance in the XWF since your arrival. Anyone else in my scenario would just laugh at you, tell you how badly you’re going to get beaten, and turn off the camera. But here’s the thing...I DO know you, HGH.”

Centurion takes a sip of his scotch before continuing.

“I’m the champion – the shining star of the Anarchy brand, and it is my job to know every wrestler that walks those hallways, even the more forgettable ones. I know you want to take a shot at me, just like everyone else in the locker room, and I know you have the opportunity to make a big statement this week on Warfare. A win, especially a knockout victory in this MMA style match, would send shockwaves through the Anarchy brand. So I’ve watched you. I’ve studied you. And here’s what I know:

This whole rich, cocky prick persona you’ve got going on here? I’ve was doing that before you were even born.”

Centurion takes another sip of his scotch before setting the glass back down on the table in front of him.

“And look, I don’t think there’s anything worse than gatekeeping in professional wrestling. A bunch of old veterans sitting around, telling young wrestlers what they can’t do because of people who came before them – it's bullshit, honestly. So I’m not going to tell you to stop doing the whole “look how rich I am!” thing. Roll with it, young man; however, I do have some advice for you. Take this as someone who was you long before you were ever a thing.

Tip #1, get at least a couple of friends. Or just people in this business you can trust, if only part-time. Even the “lone wolves” find folks they know aren’t going to target them. If you try and tackle this business on your own, you will be swallowed up and tossed out on your ass quicker than the time it took to fill out the application. Don’t trust anyone fully, but at least keep some people near you that you can keep an eye on.

Oh, and when you ultimate find a couple of friends, don’t act like you’re better than them. At least, not to their faces. Most people don’t appreciate that. You can internally think you’re better than them all you want, but don’t vocalize itaround them. Which brings me to my next point.”

Centurion grabs his cigar and takes a couple hits, blowing out the smoke into the air before setting the cigar back down in the ashtray.

“Tip #2, if you’re going to look down your nose at people, make sure you’re able to prove you’re better than them. Being a cocky prick works when you’re able to go to the ring and show everyone how good you are. If you suck, and all indications so far seem to suggest that you might, all you’re going to be is a rich kid getting his ass kicked. As fun as that is to watch initially, it gets old after a while. Soon, you won’t be boo’d for your shitty personality, but rather, you’ll be boo’d for your shitty wrestling, and that’s just no good. It’s almost impossible to come back from that.

Which brings me to tip #3 – get a new catchphrase. “I’m better and stronger than you and you know it”? Not only is it generic as fuck, but it also puts all the onus on the opponent to get it. You might be better than someone on that particular week...but what if they’re an idiot? What if they simply don’t GRASP the idea of what “better” means? Then it just falls on deaf ears. I know my catchphrase may be considered a little worn down at this point, but I’m asking anyone to understand anything. I’m basically saying “I’m going to kick your ass.” Fun, easy, straight to the point.

Also, “stronger”? First of all, you should know in this business, strength means very little. The best wrestlers are rarely the strongest. Alias and Jim Caedus aren’t going to be listing any mountains anytime soon, but they’re so athletically gifted that it doesn’t matter. Second of all, I don’t know who you think you’re “stronger” than, but with those saplings you call legs, I doubt it’s anyone other than Mini Morbid. That point is further amplified by the fact that you wear that shitty scarf to hide how tiny your neck is.”

Centurion leans forward and grabs his scotch. He takes another sip, and swirls the glass in his left hand as he continues to speak.

“Which brings me to tip #4 – get rid of the fucking scarf. Also, change your hair style. In fact, just get rid of all the shit you have attached to you right now – don’t look like a badass, you look like a 12-year-old wearing his dad’s clothes. Buy a suit that fucking fits, get rid of the useless accessories, and ditch the trunks. Every time you wrestle, you look so incredibly bland – and that’s coming from me. If you’re going to be a rich asshole, don’t automatically STOP being a rich asshole when you step into the ring. Like me – I wrestle in a polo and khakis. Is it efficient? Hell no, but I have an image to maintain, and I’ve been doing it for 20 years, so there’s no reason to stop now. If you’re going to go with the traditional wrestling gear, may I suggest long trunks? Something to hide those previously mentioned saplings under your waist?

All of this leads me to tip #5 - if you're going to act like a rich asshole, make sure you are the richest person in the room. The moment you stepped into the XWF was the moment you left the county club and entered the castle. You have "walk into a nice restaurant and buy a steak" money. I have "walk into a nice restaurant and buy the entire fucking restaurant" money. You're first class, I'm private jet. You and I are not the same. Not even close. You're just a vanilla, store brand version of me. You are me if you ordered me off of Wish.

Oh, and I haven't touched on it much, but I'm also one of the best wrestlers in the world, while you are a complete nobody who can barely tie his wrestling boots, nevermind wrestle in an actual match."

Centurion finishes the last of his scotch before placing the empty glass on the table in front of him.

"The real unfortunate part about this match for you is the stipulation. If we were just to meet one on one, maybe you could learn something. I would still win, but you'd be able to see HOW I won, and you'd know more going forward. Maybe I would show you some tactics to use on other wrestlers. It could have been one hell of an experience for you - one a lot of young wrestlers don't get to have that early in their career.

But no. Instead, we have been booked into a brawl, which means I simply have to knock you out. That's it. One big punch to the head, and the match is over. It's completely unfair to you. The XWF basically tossed you into a lions den and left you there to die. I don't know if slept with Theo's sister, or you farted in Vinnie's cereal, or what happened, but they clearly don't like you if they think this is a good idea.

Still, I have no reason you hate you, kid, and I do wish you the best moving forward. If you need any more tips on how to be rich, be sure to look me up. Understand, though, that the next ones aren't free. If you want my help, you're going to have to pay for it. Oh, final tip - reach out to some folks in the locker room, and ask them what it's like to fight me. That way, you can better prepare for what it's going to feel like when you meet your…

FINAL FANTASY!!!