Part 1 - Bitcoin’d out of his mind…
We are taken to the backstage area of The Foundry, in Las Vegas, Nevada. It isn’t a show day, with backstage crew and the occasional Sin City roster member milling around in plain clothes. It could easily be some kind of dry-run, or dress rehearsal ahead of this week’s Climax Control. Mark “The Dragon” Cross walks through, fresh from a press appearance, where he’s stopped in his tracks by one of the ring techs who flags him down for a word.
Declan: Hey Dragon, you’re into your investments right?
The Dragon: Sure, why?
Declan: Just trying to teach Zach here about where to park his money. Holding any cryptos?
Mark pulls himself up a chair.
The Dragon: I got on the Bitcoin train years ago but to be honest it’s all gone a little over my head, with things like that I just end up falling down a rabbit hole if I start looking into it, so they end up sitting around.
Declan: How many have you got?
The Dragon: Bitcoin? Two hundred and-
Declan: Dude, what the fuck?
Zach: Yeah what the fuck dude?
Declan: You know Bitcoin’s at like…$60,000 a coin right? And you’re sitting there with 200 plus?
Zach: You’ve gotta sell man, it’s gonna crash any day now!
The Dragon: Ah fuck, really? I mean like I say I don’t really keep up on this stuff, hang on…
In a panic Mark whips his phone out of his pocket, and begins to tap away furiously at it. His phone is protected by a Dragon and the Wolfe phone case, still available for a limited time in the SCW shop, since it’ll be another 350+ days before he could challenge for a Mixed Tag title, if all goes to plan.
The Dragon: Done. Sold. I hope you guys haven’t stiffed me on this, I was hearing it was about to break $100k.
Zach: Seriously man, look it up, all over the news, a big crash is coming. So wait...you just made 12 million dollars, right then and there?
The Dragon: I mean yeah, less fees...
Declan: What are you going to do with all your new-found wealth?
The Dragon: Hmm...good question...
As the camera zooms in on Mark’s face, the sound of a harp being strummed appears in the background, along with swirling white clouds beginning to bloom around the edges of the frame until suddenly, he seems to snap back to reality.
The Dragon: Guysguysguys I’ve got it...let’s go and get coffee!!
Zach: YEAAAAAAAH!
Declan: Wait what?
The scene cuts. The three guys find themselves outside Starbucks, where Mark holds the door open for the other two, before following in himself. The cafe is pretty busy, with a line of people queuing to order, and a number of the tables occupied. Out of nowhere, a British accent booms out across the coffee shop.
The Dragon: IS IT MOULIN ROUGE UP IN HERE CAUSE THERE’S FREE MOCHACHOCOLATTES FOR EVERYONE!!
He throws a wad of cash up in the air, making it rain, as the cafe erupts in a cheer, and time moves in slow motion as he walks around, shaking hands, hugging, and high fiving the patrons. After making a circuit he heads for the exit, and time returns to normal...in more ways than one. With the Dragon and his entourage none-the-wiser on the outside, the cafe very quickly descends into a scramble of disgruntled customers who wanted free coffee, and a physical fight over the stacks of cash that’d gotten flung into the sky.
The Dragon: That was really cool!
Zach: Yeah man, what now?
The Dragon: We need fur coats.
Zach: We’re in the desert...though…
The Dragon: It’ll be fine, let’s go!!
The camera cuts to a large, red, glass-fronted building. Bold white lettering above the shop front reveals the name of the store - Faux Fur Emporium. The camera takes us inside, the shop teeming with every variety of fake fur coats, hats, scarves, and all the gloves that you could possibly imagine. It’s any wonder they manage to stay in business, since it seems a bit of a niche market to be holding this much stock.
In the centre of the shop, the three stooges are dressed to the nines in thick, flamboyant fur coats. Mark’s ensemble is being topped off by a matching fur hat.
The Dragon: You didn’t think I meant real fur right? That’s cruel.
Declan: I mean...they’re not very expensive…
Zach: Yeah!
The Dragon: Oh trust me, they can be. Watch this shit.
Mark pulls out a stack of cash from the coat pocket, slapping it down on the counter.
The Dragon: KEEP THE CHANGE!
With that, he turns on his heels, strutting out of the shop, leaving the other two standing, looking at each other, a little confused.
Declan: This guy’s a fucking idiot.
Zach: Shut up, he might buy us some stuff we actually want soon! Try and talk to him about sports cars or something.
Declan: I’m going out in a fur coat in the middle of the fucking Nevada desert…
Zach: Shoulda bought Bitcoin earlier man! You can't win the lottery if you don’t have a ticket! You coulda been him right now!
Declan: This is bullshit...
The scene switches again, to a street in Las Vegas. Out of the corner of the shot, giving it a full shoulder-wiggling strut as he walks into view, appears The Dragon. His outfit has been jazzed up by giant sunglasses, gold Cuban link chain, iced-out Rolex on his wrist, and a cigar held between his teeth.
Zach: We look like pimps.
The Dragon: We do not look like pimps, it’s totally fine. Hey guys, what’s in there?
Declan: SUPER exclusive club, members only. Owned by some Russian billionaire I think.
The Dragon: Perfect.
Zach: Whoa wait wait wait...I hear they’ve got connections to like...the Japanese mafia or something...you know, the guys with half a finger?
The Dragon: Oh, Yakuza-schmooza, I need a drink. These furs were a fucking mistake by the way, why didn’t you guys talk me outta this?
Declan: I mean it’s your mon-
The Dragon: Coulda gone and bought cars or something.
Zach: Man I told you!
Declan: Oh man here he goes…
Shoulders swinging wildly from side-to-side, we follow as Mark “The Big Pimp Dragon” Cross swaggers his way towards the door, paying zero attention to the man guarding it, who tries to step in his path.
Doorman: Sir, you can’t come in here. Sir? SIR!
Declan: Really sorry about him, he’s Bitcoined out of his mind…
Doorman: Wha...What does that even mean? SECURITY!?
The pair catch up to Mark at the bar, where he has taken a seat, and is ordering himself a drink, instructing the bartender in the level of olive brine required to meet his exacting standards.
The Dragon: More dirty...more dirty...c’mon more dirty! Oh wait that’s too dirty.
Bartender: Did you want me to, uh, make it again or?
The Dragon: Nah it’s fine just give it to me.
Mark snatches the glass out of the bartender’s hand, smacking his lips together loudly as he takes a sip, following it up with an obnoxious “aaaaah” as he slaps a healthy tip on the bar.
The Dragon: I take it back, that’s a fucking MARVELLOUS dirty martini!
Declan: Dragon?
The Dragon: Yo! Grab a seat, get a drink, this bartender’s fucking magical!
Declan: We really should go dude, that guy at the door looked pissed.
The Dragon: It’ll be fine, we’re paying customers! Look at that tip I just left!
Zach: I wouldn’t be too sure.
Zach and Declan’s eyes are both drawn to a figure moving somewhere behind Mark’s back
The Dragon: Guys you just need to stop…
From out of nowhere, a GIANT forearm appears around Mark’s neck.
The Dragon: That’s not g-
The scene cuts again, suddenly, to a rooftop. Mark “The Dragon” Cross, whose matching faux fur hat got lost somewhere in the scuffle, is still attempting to fight himself free from the giant Russian security guard, who seems to have at least a foot of height advantage, and around 200kgs in one-rep-max on him in virtually all areas of the gym. The security guard makes very light work of manhandling him around as he drags the World Heavyweight champion to the edge and, with one swift swing, launches the Brit clean off the roof to the ground below.
The Dragon: YEEEEEEEEEEEEEETTTTTT-
The camera cuts to the alleyway below. Just as soon as a falling figure comes into view, Mark finds himself back in the corridor, shaking the cobwebs out of his head as he tries to figure out what that was, and where he was now. That got weird for a second.
The Dragon: Oh I don’t know, probably stick to what I know, invest in property...maybe the holiday home market or something, that kind of thing, tourism is going to be back on the rise after COVID, maybe I can get ahead of the curve.
Zach: Cool man, cool.
A phone rings. Mark slides it out of his pocket, examining the caller.
The Dragon: Oh look...it’s the girl who packed a bag and left me a few weeks back...bet she wants to talk about picking up the rest of her stuff. Listen to how sad she’s going to be when she finds out how much richer I am without her.
Mark answers the call, putting it on speakerphone.
The Dragon: Hello, this is STILL your World Heavyweight Champion speaking, how may I be of assistance?
Amber: Mark - Stop showing off in front of your wrestling friends.
The pair start to ‘OHHHHH’ quietly, smacking each other as Mark’s face suddenly turns ashen, making a throat-cutting sign to try and make them cut it out before she heard.
Amber: I’m just calling to tell you I’m coming back. I’ll be with you by the end of the week.
The Dragon: Ohkaaaay...OK cool. Text me your flight details, I’ll pick you up at the airport.
Amber: Thanks. See you soon.
He cuts the call.
Declan: I like her already.
The Dragon: Most people do. She’s one of the few people who doesn’t put up with my bullshit. I think that’s why I need her, to keep me in line. Catch you guys later...I need to go and make that college girl gets out of my house before the end of the week…
Zach: Oh NICE! Really?
The Dragon: No...not really...I think I started to realise just how much I missed Amber after she left...the house hasn’t been the same without her...some slutty college girl was never gonna fix that, even if she did want to go again in the morning...Anyway...bye guys…
Head bowed, Mark heads off down the corridor, hands stuffed into his jeans. It had certainly been a weird morning so far...but it wouldn’t be long before he’d have his girl back...and he felt like that was going to make everything alright.
Declan: He’s got it bad huh?
Zach: Yeah man...hey...think we can find what his girl looks like on the socials?
The camera snaps back to Mark as he walks away down the corridor, hands still in his pockets. From back where he came from, he hears an “OH NICE BRO!” that was way too loud.
Guess they found her picture…
Part 2 - Class is Permanent...but not everything…
We are taken to what looks like a loading dock, at the back of a building. All looks quiet, aside from Mark “The Dragon” Cross perching on the side, his legs swinging into the wall below him.
Now I’m going to tell you a little story, it’s about a friend of mine. Now this friend, she just stumbled into a new relationship, which is great, right? Dating during COVID hasn’t always been one of the easiest things to do BUT there’s a problem. I mean...opinions are like arseholes, everybody has one, and relationships follow the same pattern as most things in life, it’s virtually impossible to please everyone. I’ve been there and done that myself. You think everyone liked Amber? No...but we’ve been together for over a year, and I know one thing for sure, I do. We’ve had our ups and downs, who doesn’t? ...but not a single one was because of what anyone thought of me, or her, or us. It isn’t something that even registers for me. It’s something I became desensitised to, since I think an issue that’s even more divisive right now, do you think everyone’s happy having me as World Heavyweight champion? Absolutely. Fucking. Not. Far from it.
I bring this up because there are two ways of looking at these people, those who take a negative view on you, or what you’re doing in your life. Do you know what this friend is most concerned about? Other people’s opinions, the negative comments, the indirect tweets, the snide remarks but you know what? Very few people’s slates are totally clean. Very few are universally liked, all of our Teflon coating has gotten chipped away to some extent, no matter how small. That’s life. I mean...very few have gone through life without having royally fucked over a former partner at some point in their lives. Probably while they were young and stupid...and if it was a guy, probably because they couldn’t keep it in their pants, nothing more sinister than that. Unfortunately for us humans, at times anyway, we’re blighted with pretty good long term memories. Grudges run deep. Mistakes can sometimes be forgiven, but they’re never forgotten. Woe is me, why can’t everyone be happy for us? Because some people won’t like you. Some people won’t like your partner. Someone probably remembers that thing you said to them when you were drunk, even if you don’t. Some might remember how you bullied them in kindergarten. Some may like one or both of you individually, but can’t stand the way you ram it down people’s throats, because of that sickly sweet lovey-dovey new couple stuff that, even if you’ve been through it in your own relationships before, makes you want to throw up after a while. Guilty as charged by the way, Amber and I went through some of our first messages to each other and FUCK MY LIFE were they sappy. I’m just as bad...but maybe...just maybe...these friends of yours? They don’t give enough of a fuck to even acknowledge it, let alone reach out and give you a congratulations because you both found someone that wants to screw the other on a regular basis, not just a one-and-done kind of deal. It’s what humans do, it’s not groundbreaking. It’s that kind of attitude, expecting others to validate you, that poses the problem and you’ll be pleased to know...my point.
You know what a true relationship is? You and them against the world, ride or die. My life has always, from day one in the NFL, been pretty full-on, pretty hectic, all eyes on me, but you know what? I’ve been lucky enough to be in more than one relationship where the door to our hotel, house, AirBnB, whatever, could close, and all that went away. It was just me and her. Yeah social media still exists, but the great thing about phones? They have power buttons. The fact is if you can hide away from everything, together, where nobody else knows where you are, or what the two of you mean to each other, and that isn’t enough for you? Your relationship isn’t that strong in the first place. It doesn’t DESERVE to be validated for a start, and for second, it’s not my job. It’s not the job of your ex partners, your friends, your family, ANYONE but yourself to make your relationship, your work, your life feel worthy. The sooner you realise that, the more successful, the more fulfilling, your life will become, and that loops around to me, my life, my situation.
I fully, and whole-heartedly accept, even as one of the more popular guys in the back...and this is despite how annoying I can be...that very few people WANT me to be champion. Wrestlers, fans, the guys who the build the ring for us, how many of them are truly on my side? Like...would truly go in to bat for me against someone who didn’t feel the same. Plenty of my friends have come forward, congratulating me, telling me it was deserved, sure, that’s great, while some have told me that a title of this magnitude is wasted on me...like it’s literally taking money out of Sin City Wrestling’s pockets because they have to put me front-and-centre on a lot of the posters, throw me into the main events by default, in the place of someone with appeal, real selling power. I mean cheers pal, thanks a lot for your support there and everything...but really, I value honesty even more than I value the pats on the back, the proverbial high fives. Maybe they have a point too...but I take it on the chin, I move on, I don’t let it phase me, because that isn’t productive, and at the end of the day, it’s all irrelevant.
The moment I start to put my energy into any of this stuff, give it the slightest bit of credence? It takes that energy, thought, and effort away from getting better, from doing better. It’s a waste. Nobody else put me here, I put me here. I didn’t NEED a huge fan outcry to get the shot I deserved. I didn’t NEED someone on the management team to decide I was worthy to get a second crack. I didn’t NEED to bribe anyone with front row seats to the ball game. I earned my World title shots the hard way, in Blast from the Past, in, you guessed it, a wrestling ring. The ultimate proving ground because you know what? As long as this stays a combat sport, as long as you have to fuck someone up enough that they can’t come back at you? I will always have a seat at the table in this business if I want it, sorry to disappoint.
I’ve talked a lot about how it’s a shame, the number of prospective young wrestlers who may never get their shot...maybe they don’t have the look, the contacts or whatever...but how about pure in-ring ability? How many, one-on-one, straight up, take out all the flourish and the fanfare, could actually beat me on ability alone? Not many, and I guess, maybe, THAT is one of the reasons they fall by the wayside. Want guaranteed success in a sport? Don’t stop winning, until they can’t deny you anymore. I don’t have the killer instinct of a Jack Washington, the boyish charms of a Cassian Reed, the flamboyance of a Teddy Warren, I can’t take my plates of meat up the apples and pears like a Cockney King. I don’t have the washboard abs of an Austin James Mercer, the marketing prowess of a Mac Bane, or the sheer size and power of a Senor Vinnie but yet...I am the champion. There is one great leveller in this business, it’s called a ring, and it’s where I do all my best work. I don’t have the bank balance of a J2H...but I can make his achievements look insignificant. I can do what nobody has ever done before and really, was I wrong, for not being marketable? Or were they wrong, for selling the wrong product?
If taking out the ‘King’ at Climax Control a couple of weeks ago wasn’t proof enough - I’m not the catalyst for anyone’s comeback trail, I’m not a stepping stone, and I’m not a jumping on point. We have to honour the achievements of Vinnie, and we all have to respect the career of Goth as well, of course, that goes without saying...but it isn’t 2013 anymore. I know in every sport, there’s these discussions about when the ‘golden’ generation was. How would George Best have fared in the modern Premier League...would ‘Pistol’ Pete Sampras stand a chance against Djokovic or Nadal if they were all in their prime? Would the Great Bambino have been so great fighting off high-and-in cutters at 102mph in the modern day MLB? In wrestling, the times move much faster, it’s a high impact sport, careers can start and end within 10 years and really, that’s not a bad period for comparison...so I guess the question is...how would the first ever winner of the Triple Crown stack up against the current generation? I mean in theory, I’m in for a tough ride...
...but that’s only theoretical. Now...I completely understand the saying that ‘class is permanent’ and to be honest I have to agree. I defend this belt a couple of times, hold it long enough that it can’t be considered a fluke and hey...when I finally am defeated, I could disappear, stay out of the ring for a while, come back in 7 or 8 years and yeah, on paper, I have the pedigree to win that title again. That makes sense, right? My name is already well and truly etched on Sin City Wrestling history, new fans will have seen my name on the website against titles, against tournament wins, against broken records, and will have wondered what it was like to see me work, if they weren’t finding them on YouTube, and probably would have expected big things from that year 2028 comeback. That makes sense...but class alone doesn’t win wrestling matches.
Class isn’t the be-all-and-end-all. Class doesn’t always win me matches now. Class doesn’t stand up when a guy really wants to fight dirty, keep it down in the trenches, standing on the inside and brawling with you. Sometimes you have to play their own game a little so you can get that separation that you need. Class doesn’t stand up when you’re rusty, when you’re unfit, when you’re not used to taking the blows and rolling with the punches. It doesn’t always win through when your sides are burning every time you hammer off the ropes, when that doubt’s in your mind as you realise you’re a good half a step or more behind your opponent. Class doesn’t make you faster, in mind or in body. Class doesn’t make you meaner. Class doesn’t make you get up when you’ve taken all you can. Class doesn’t give you a Plan B when nothing is going quite the way you wanted. Class is not going to win Goth this match and really, that’s all he has on his side.
A win against Caleb Storms is not a win at all...A win against Caleb Storms is not a win at all...that thought just keeps going around and around in my mind as I think...who would I most like to face, first time back in a ring in years? I mean Caleb’s won titles, on paper he’s no pushover but in reality? His head is never really in the game, always distracted, onto the next adventure, it’s like teasing a cat with a laser pointer, you can soon get them away from whatever toy, box, scratching post or bowl of food, just wave something shiny in front of Caleb and you’ve lost him. Sometimes it’s a title. Sometimes it’s a surfing spot. Sometimes it’s a vacation. More to the point the kid is, from the last time I checked, so scared of Fenris he’s still cautious about coming into the building. Teddy...Caleb...Bill...faced them all multiple times, beaten them all multiple times. They’re all capable in their own rights, sure, but some of us are different gravy, we move in higher circles. We have more stuff, we use it more effectively, and more consistently. Caleb is no slouch, sure, but he’s no fucking world beater right now...and that’s no small difference now, is it? No small step up in class.
Everything I’ve talked about so far, pretty much? It’s all been about 400 days as champion, achieving something that’s never been achieved before...putting myself in contention for being one of, if not THE greatest World Heavyweight champion in the history of this company and yet...let’s talk about some numbers that have already become reality. 596 days since I last lost in a singles competition on Climax Control. Over 14,000 hours since someone made me give up. 85 weeks since I got knocked down and couldn’t get back up. More than 51 million seconds since somebody took me out on the weekly show. I’m sure it’s been said that I like to choke on the big stage. Maybe at one point, that would have been true...but look at that shiny prize on my shoulder, I’ve finally defeated those demons. The Climax Control thing? Little on the line, no title, no big rivalry? It’s so easy to take your foot off the gas in those situations, cruise, take it easy. Why have I gone undefeated so long? Well...any setting...I don’t have anything other than top gear. I’m in the same mode in an alley with no spectators as I am in front of a capacity crowd, fighting for my title belt. There is no ‘big match’ for me. Every match is just as important. Every W is just as big. Every time I can prove I’m the best man on the night is what I live for.
Look at those few losses on my record - Fenris, Ben Jordan, Griffin Hawkins, some Battle Royal where some other guy goes and gets himself pinned instead of me. That’s the sum total list of my defeats. Man of the Year. The first ever unified World Heavyweight and Underground Champion. A multi-time champion in his own right, and one of the most popular names in the business, and results that were, in some ways, outside of my control. It’s a pretty short list, and it’s an impressive list. Three opponents who could absolutely put up a stern test, and teach me some serious lessons along the way too. That’s the kind of level you need to be to compete with me, in any ring, any where. Doesn’t matter if the title is on the line or not. The bar is set, and every day I step in the gym, I raise that bar a little bit higher.
It doesn't matter who you put in front of me, honestly. I know it's a non-title match, but if Goth does take me out? Give him my belt. Give him my Blast from the Past wins. Give him my fucking Aston Martin for all I care but with the greatest respect? I doubt Triple Crown winning Goth of 2012-13 could turn that record around on Sunday night. I doubt even more that the mid-forties, out-of-practice, Dad of the Year contender has it in him, not that it’s a bad thing. He prioritizes his family, his son, over this sport and in fact, I respect that immensely in him, to be honest that’s exactly what it should be. Thanks to my parents I have nothing but happy memories of my childhood, they gave me all the tools I needed to be a winner, to make a success of my life...to be here...but this belt, this list of achievements...it’s a culmination of over a decade of putting wrestling first. Being in the gym every day, for hours on end. I’m top of my game, right now. Everything is dialled in, right now. All the momentum is on my side, right now. I’m not the work in progress guy. I’m not the ‘it’ll come together eventually’ guy. I’m the complete package, and anyone who steps in the ring, that isn’t in the same boat? They’re getting turned around and sent straight back up the ramp, so quickly that I’m going to be left hungry for more.
This is one for the posters, one for the marketing team, that’s all. Champion versus champion, legend versus legend...in theory. Two of the best to ever go at it...on paper. The clash of the titans...on a video game. It writes great copy. After all...imagine when you tell your kids that you were there when Mark “The Dragon” Cross vs Goth happened ON A WEEKLY SHOW when they were too young to watch wrestling. Imagine the amazed look on their face as they hold the ticket in their hands and imagine. At the end of the day, all that gets written in the history books is the result. Mark “The Dragon” Cross wins by pinfall. You can leave it to their overactive young imaginations to run wild. They don’t have to know the match was all one-way traffic, and it didn’t live up to the hype. If it wasn’t the Internet generation, you could absolutely get away with that too.
I had a similar moment a couple of years back, when I was back in England visiting Mum. One for the old school boxing fans. She was sorting out some old boxes and she found this programme for Chris Eubank vs Michael Watson, the first fight, before tragedy struck in the rematch. My Dad always liked to buy a programme, keep his ticket stub as well, like a keepsake. I’ve got boxes of Gillingham Football Club programmes from when we used to go every week, every single one with a ticket stapled to the front...but I’m getting off topic a little, sounds like me. I bring it up, because I remember Dad saying to me that the first fight wasn’t very fun to watch, when he was still alive. I found it on YouTube, he was totally right. It didn’t live up to the hype in the slightest but yet...I could treasure it anyway. I cracked open a beer, put it up on my projector, and it’s kind of like I lived in that moment, imagined him going up in the car, spending £25 on his ticket, which was a fair amount of money in 1991, and pretended I was sitting there alongside him, watching it too.
To Goth...I guess final word on this. Putting your son first, listen, that's admirable and to be honest, this comeback? I think if you can involve him in it somehow, let him share the experience with you, it’ll be great for both of you. I won’t go out of my way to deliberately injure you...that’s not really how I do business...he says as around 50% of what he does involves kneeing people in the face BUT I have a job to do. You’re in my way. It’s as professional as that. This was not the match for you. This was not the time, but I hope you stick around. I hope you do rekindle some of that old magic, I hope we get to go again sometime, I hope we get to make it not just a classic on paper, but a match for the ages. Maybe not now...but maybe soon. I guess...from me...that’s all. I’ve got someone very important to meet at the airport…
Mark hops himself from the loading dock, disappearing out of shot, and the scene fades to black.
In other news, Northern Ohio Championship Wrestling (NOCW) have announced the signing of Faith “The Future” Simpson from Sin City Wrestling from Las Vegas, Nevada. The 19-year old, who most recently wrestled for the Vegas outfit as the mysterious “Royal Purple '' removed the mask at their last major event, revealing her true identity after a near four-month run as their Bombshell Roulette champion came to an end.
The title was the teenager’s fourth in an already impressive four-year career, all that despite suffering a double leg break around eighteen months ago. Simpson has signed a three-year deal with the company, with her first appearance due to be in a couple of weeks time.
Faith began her career training with the Dragon’s Lair gym, owned by fellow roster member and current Sin City Wrestling World Champion Mark “The Dragon” Cross. She made her debut at just fifteen years old for Galveston Island Wrestling out of Texas, eventually capturing the Legacy belt for her first taste of title gold.
We caught up with Faith to get her take on the announcement.
“This has all been so hard for me, ya know? I had to come clean about so much stuff, the alcohol, the drugs...some people tore up the contracts right in front of me, told me I’d never work for them, ever...but most of the people I spoke to were so lovely and so understanding, it broke my heart a little to tell them I was going to sign elsewhere, that was the toughest thing of all...but now more than ever I’ve gotta do what’s right for me now. I don’t deserve this, any of this, for how I acted. If I wasn’t still winning title matches at my worst, under the mask, I might have found it way harder to come back, but here I am I guess! Thank you to everyone who stood by me, thanks to my team, to Sin City Wrestling, for putting up with all my s**t this past year, and thanks to anyone who was willing to give me a chance regardless. I’m ready to right a few wrongs, and win a few titles over these next three years!! Still #2fast4u, Faith x”
We also got a word with her coach and mentor Mark “The Dragon” Cross:
“A number of offers were on the table for Faith, including one that would have kept her close to the Lair and still within Florida, and we as a team worked night and day to cover all of the angles to make sure the best possible packages were being put out...but at the end of the day the choice was all hers to make. We knew there’d be some big numbers flying around for her services, but NOCW ticked the most boxes in terms of what she wanted from her new home. Money talks, no doubt, but that was far from the only factor in her mind. I will forever be immensely proud of my star pupil, and I know it’ll only be a matter of time before she collects her fifth strap and more in Cleveland.”
