Congratulations, Scott Stevens…after who knows how long of wandering aimlessly through the darkness, you have finally seen the light.
Now you know the truth about Lee Best, the machine he runs…even if it had to run right over you to finally let that realization sink in. Now you understand what the GOD you once served really thinks of you and your worship of him. Welcome back to reality.
A reality you just couldn’t seem to fully grasp. Why? Because it’s not like you to actually make sense these days, you’ve proven that several times…but this really takes the cake.
You were so desperate to prove a point that you went and challenged me to what is, at its heart and soul, a big ol’ cage for a big ol’ ass whoopin’…well, this is the bed you’ve made for yourself. I’m about to put you right to sleep in it, for your sake and mine.
When I beat the ever-loving hell out of you in Tulsa, I will take that last shred of dignity you have. I will make it so you can’t even look at yourself in the mirror each morning without noticing something looks different. It’ll be the scars and bruises I leave behind when I’ve pummeled you like a ball of clay, molding you in the image that you deserve.
The lonesome loser that you truly are.
Thousands upon thousands inside the BOK Center will bear witness to nothing short of a massacre, and millions watching from home will be left wondering where Scott Stevens goes after I put you down once and for all.
And I can already answer that inquiry, because it’ll be a two step process.
First stop, the local hospital where they have to stitch up what’s left of your broken body. Where the doctors and surgeons will be scratching their heads figuring out how to put all the pieces back together. Some real Humpty Dumpty shit, ya feel me Scottmeister?
Then, it’s off to the ol’ Stevens farm in Hasbeen, Texas, where you can live out the rest of your days, eventually taking your old man’s spot as the J.R. of the Stevens Dynasty.
I’m aware that I’m mixing up soap operas, and to that I say…they’re all the same, aren’t they? Half an hour to an hour of gripping drama television, always looking to lure the viewer in with a hook to tune in next week. Some folks love them a bit of drama…yourself included, Stevens. You thrive on it. You can’t help but stick your nose in other people’s business.
You make it your goal to talk as much shit as you can to get people riled up on the goddamn weekly, Scott, and time and time again you end up paying the price. You talked your shit against the Final Alliance, and they put you through the wringer for it. Now you wanna talk your shit against me, the guy that walloped you for several minutes in HOFC, and reveal just how much of a clown you really are? You wanna have a go at me inside an even bigger cage?
How many times do I need to teach you this lesson, old man?
You’ve talked your talk, and on Sunday I’m gonna make you walk that walk…right into a Fist of Eris that sends you back twenty years, where you belong. That’ll be how you get to sit at home, reminiscing on the good ol’ days and asking yourself where it all went wrong…and again, Scottypoo, I’ve got an answer to that.
You fucked around one too many times, and now you’re about to find out.
You’re gonna find yourself stepping into that cage not with the old Xander Azula, the guy that couldn’t string together some wins if his life depended on it…because his life doesn’t depend on it anymore. He’s gone, Scott. Put out of his misery after coming up short one too many times.
The old me is dead.
You step into that cage with a whole new Xander Azula, and how fitting that it happens on Easter? A time of rebirth, of resurrection…and you’re about to deal with a whole new set of problems coming your way. You wanna start some shit about me “begging” for an opponent? When I’m done with you in Tulsa, you’ll be the one left begging.
And given all the bridges you burned on your way here, don’t be shocked that no one is coming to save you from what’s coming. You asked for this, Scott, and I’m gonna make you regret every syllable you spat out trying to make this happen. You went out and made your little demands going into this, and now I’m about to supply a whole world of hurt your way.
That’s just simple economics.
See you in the cage, Scoots Magoots.
Long Beach Press-Telegram – April 4, 2023
They Walk Among Us: The Secret History of the Eternal Circle
Written by Adam McDowell
For over two years, they’ve been at home on the outskirts of our great city.
Taking shelter deep in the heart of the old Naval Shipyard. Hiding their numbers within containers on Terminal Island, thinking no one would ever notice their presence.
Until now, fair citizens.
Your man Adam has been keeping tabs on the traffic coming in and out of the island, noticing strange activity from time to time. Some of it is just shady business dealing, some borders on the supernatural. All of it raises an important question.
What is the Eternal Circle, and what are they up to?
We have a right to know. We need to know. This journalist is now making it his mission to get to the bottom of this mystery, before things get any weirder. Before they get any worse.
The first bit of business we need to address is their history. Some digging up of old skeletons has revealed that this group has been around for a while, making their way around the globe in some of the most terrifying incidents never to be fully investigated.
So what brings them to the International City?
How do we keep them at bay?
We will find out together, citizens!
The Complex – Same Day
“What in the fresh hell is this?”
Inside the main common room of the Complex, we see a frustrated Xander Azula stepping in with an unfolded newspaper in hand. He tosses it onto the table, and a quick glimpse reveals the editorial that has been written about the Circle…much to the surprise of his crew, namely Thomas Crowne and Mysti. Crowne scratches his head as he reads the article through, looking at Azula with a look of confusion.
“I have no idea, Xander,” the young man states, his tone echoing the sheer uncertainty that befalls him as he makes sense of this exposé of sorts. “I’ve never heard of this guy, and certainly haven’t seen anything suspicious going on around the Complex.”
Xander just grunts at the reply, shaking his head at the audacity of some up and coming reporter trying to get his moment at the Circle’s expense. After a moment to think things through, he finally speaks up once again.
“Whoever this guy is, he’s about to cause a real problem for me,” Xander replies, snatching the newspaper out of Crowne’s hand. “For two years we’ve been setting up base, and no one’s given us so much as a second thought. We’re not operating under the shadows, mind you–our little pro wrestling venture makes sure we’re out in the public eye nearly twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week–but I don’t need reporters or the city breathing down our necks.”
Xander starts to make his exit from the room, turning his attention to his crew once more before he does, a light sigh escaping his mouth before he speaks up one last time.
“Because this guy is right, we are up to something…and I don’t need him and his ilk snooping around when we get to the next stage. So…let’s keep a closer eye on the perimeter, and after I deal with Scott Stevens I will handle this mess myself. I don’t want this guy telling our story, not when I can tell it so much more eloquently. I’ll take this to the papers, if I have to…not him.”
With that, Xander storms out of the common room, leaving his crew to ponder what their next steps are as he takes a breather outside. Looking up at the sky above, Azula shakes his head before pulling out his cell phone. A few taps of the screen later, and he is making a call to someone he hasn’t talked to in years. One more ghost of his past, for old time’s sake.
“Hello? Hey, I know it’s been a hot minute…but I need your help on something. That’s right, a bit of old business to square away. I got a reporter type over in Long Beach that needs looking into, you think you can help a brother out?”
Xander takes a moment to listen to the response on the other end…a response that draws a grin from the Head Disciple.
“I knew I could count on you.”
Xander ends the call, taking another deep breath to calm his nerves before walking off, leaving us in the dark on the matter…and just in time, because we fade to black.