XXXVI sits on the moonlit shore of a Miami beach, people all around, yet he sits alone, waves crashing loudly in contrast. Amidst their rhythm, a faint digital countdown begins: 00:36…00:35…00:34. Our view lingers on the shadowed water until it’s interrupted by a voice, not CIX’s, but the Director’s.
“I’ve given dear Cierra the night off. You want something done right? Do it yourself. While PVE wants to be me, he’ll never do that. But that’s a tale for a different time. In each moment, XXXVI, my agent, has risen while Thunder Knuckles drowned in his own excess. My dear captive audience, tonight I lay out the facts. When the man behind the mask speaks, you’ll feel the judgement he will bring.”
XXXVI: “Rebellion. I heralded my debut, providing thirty-six seconds. Time enough for one or both competitors, Oz and Inquisition, to escape. I spared Oz that night. I didn’t target you, Knuckles. Perhaps I should have. I hunted the other masked man, my mirror. The message was clear. When time ran out, I remained. XXXVI had arrived.”
Director (cutting in): “You? You found yourself defending against Scoops McGee and Game Girl. You swung a chair in defiance when the match didn’t go your way. You, along with Mr. Bourbon, ended a young woman’s career, because you couldn’t win clean. That isn’t dominance. That’s desperation masquerading as bravado. You also wear a mask, figuratively.”
XXXVI: “In Lexington, at Leap of Faith, all eyes were on me, when all was written. I climbed high, reached far and nearly tore your empire down. The crowd was behind me. They saw the fight I brought, alone. I didn’t need Oz, the betrayer. I didn’t need help, nor excuses. I took the fight to both of you, despite my partner’s repeated attempts to hand you an easy victory. I soared, planting a swanton on you and the Final Countdown on Bobby. You sowed chaos and Scoops offered me a hand. I didn’t ask for his help, yet I am thankful anyway. Respect is earned, not stolen.”
Director: “That same night, TK, You lost by disqualification. Again. Chair in hand, arrogance in your veins, your title still in your grasp, not by a win, by the skin of your teeth, which for now are intact. You left with no honor, no victory and no reason to celebrate. You did, however, claim another prize that night. You defeated the false kind, Justin York and left a double champion. You were the Revolution champion."
00:23…00:22…00:21…tick-tock.
XXXVI: “You came into Sturgis, your home turf, like a house of fire. You weren’t satisfied beating York. You had to put down Matthias, the longest-reigning former Revolution Champion. I’ll give credit where it’s due. You held onto your gold. But me? I settled the score. I put down Oz, whom you leaned on, who tagged himself in when I was ready to fight. I bit down with the Teeth of God. I left him buried and broken, under a pile of motorcycles. Buried like you tried to do to me. Oz didn’t earn his shot at Relentless. It was handed to him on a silver platter. It’s not lost on me that he may lie down once more for you, but he claims to want to fight this time. Me? I always fight. I don’t lie down. I won't die.”
Director: “You are branded as a Revolution, but you are a drunkard king. Cowards revolve around you like a sun. Your Bastard brotherhood is a coffin. Every ally rots, as if Midas asked for dirt instead of gold. You hold onto gold with the loosest of grips. You thought you buried my agent in your cute little time capsule of conquered foes. You didn’t. You failed to finish the job and now he rises from under the dirt pile, your only legacy. What’s worse? He’s coming for you now. You and your gold."
00:18…00:17..00:16…getting closer.
XXXVI turns his back to the camera, pulls off the mask, draws down his hood, revealing flowing dark brown hair, almost black. The man behind the mask speaks without revealing his face, his voice hardened some.
“At Relentless, it’s just us, Thunder Knuckles. I can remove my mask and still be real, dangerous, worthy. You will keep yours on, the facade of immortality. With no Bobby to grab the ref, no Oz to play at being a corpse, no Scoops to level the playing field, what’s left? You are not sempiternal. You, and your singles title reign will prove to be ephemeral. You want to be the party that never ends, but when the party’s over…when you’re too cool to even clean your nose out, there is silence, the cold walk of shame home. A place where I’ve lived for years. For you, it’s three seconds of silence that will spell the end.”
Director (cold): “Your endless mistakes will cost, you, TK. You believe yourself untouchable, but you sit on a throne, nay an empire of glass and XXXVI is the stone. You tried to bury him, but as he drags you screaming to the grave, cawing like a crow, I won’t hesitate to spit on it.”
00:10…00:09…00:08…Failure to launch, Mr. Knuckles?
“At Rebellion, I gave thirty-six seconds before I appeared. At Relentless, I’ll only need three. Your grave mistake in Lexington will cost you everything. I look to Nepal. Like them, I’ll raise my own revolution and bring down an empire and in record time. I rise, you fall, the cycle continues. For once, I silence the noise that you thrive on. You sought to bury me once, but this time, I bury you. I restarted my life, ended the party lifestyle during the pandemic, ironically a time where we were told to keep six feet of distance between us. Just like then, there will be six feet between us, but with you below and me above, the new Revolution champion."
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