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{OWA had just gone on hiatus, leaving the status of many wrestlers unknown. Some retired, some decided to stay home and do nothing, but others can't just sit around and do nothing like other lazy people. That brings us to the Hendrix House Hold. Over the years, Brandon has embraced his Italian roots, and with the help of his mentor and Hall Of Fame wrestler, Angelo Caito, Brandon Hendrix became The Don. Not just in wrestling with his brutal, career ending approaches for his opponents, but because outside the ring, he's the Mafia. Brandon sits at his desk, paper work scattered all around his desk. Eyes red from the lack of sleep, the responsibility, but also the-}

“Daddy! Can you read me a bed time story?”

{Yeah, Parenthood also. Brandon placed his pen down and stood up from his chair, his “throne” as he calls it. The one thing that he was proud of and never would ever complain about. He walked out of his luxury office and down the hall of his San Antonio residing home and into the bedroom that screams “princess”, literally everywhere. Brandon walks over to the bed where his nine year old daughter, Raelynn was located, with a book in her hand. She can read on her own, but her mom, an ex of Hendrix’s that cheated on him and become a junkie that abandoned her at a cafe in 2022, never had someone to read her stories or anything, but her dad would always love to read her a story, no matter how old she is.}

“Alright princess. What story did you grab tonight?”

{Brandon lifted the book up and looked at the title: Goldilocks and the Three Bears. A classic book that Brandon's mom used to read him. In 2022, his mother died of a heart attack, then a week later, his dad committed suicide, leaving Hendrix without both his parents, and this came all before he knew he had a daughter. Raelynn never got to meet her grandparents, but they are definitely watching down over her right now. Brandon begins to read the story, never missing a word as the little girl listening captures every word that he reads from the book from beginning to end. When Brandon finishes the book, he places it on the little nightstand beside her bed and pulls her covers over her body. He leans in and gives her a kiss on the forehead.}

“Goodnight, princess.”

“Goodnight daddy.”

{Brandon stands up from the bed and goes to the door, and before he can leave.}

“Daddy.”

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“Do you miss Grandma and Grandpa?”

{Brandon looks down at the floor, finding the right words and looks back at his daughter.}

“Everyday. But one thing I learned, baby girl is that no matter what, they are always with you. And they will always be proud of you. Now go to sleep, okay?”

“Okay daddy. Night.”

{Brandon steps out of the room, closing the door behind him. Brandon leans on the door, let's out a sigh before starting to walk back to his office. Suddenly, his phone goes off. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone, revealing it's a notification from Christian Underwood. The title says “SCW Contract Negotiations”. A slight grin forms on Brandon's face as he walks back into his office, another chapter of his career about to start.}

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“Sin City Wrestling. It's been what? Three years? A lot has changed in that time period. After my departure and I apologize for how it went, Christian, but I was not myself. I was pretending to be something I'm not and I can't do that. So I went off and went back to OWA. And there, I grew into the wrestler that stands before you today. The wrestler that made Christian Underwood himself say is frightening to put against anyone on the roster. You see, what I say is all but pleasant, I'm a student of the game. I dissect everything people say about me when it's not true, and I can take those same counter arguments and send your career straight to Hell. I'm a magician on the microphone in all aspects of the meaning. In one go, I can make you laugh at the jokes, then make you hate me, then make you love me, and make you cry all within the same lines because I am that damn good. And for those who want some background on me, let me share some. I'm the guy who came into wrestling unknowingly with a bad heart that could have killed me at any second in my life, but did not. I went from being told by the doctor that between me and him, I wouldn't be standing to this day, to being between me and him being the Last Man Standing. I'm the guy who had his heart stopped in a match, had it restarted, and won my first World Championship ten minutes later. I'm the guy who walked into AT&T stadium in front of one hundred thousand fans as the World Champion and lost because his heart stopped completely. I'm the guy who was stuck in a cryo chamber and a lightning bolt struck the building and sent a massive shock to me. That is the reason my heart is cured today.”

{Brandon chuckles a bit as he rubs his temple some, even himself realizing how crazy that sounds to him, much less how other people will understand.}

“So anyway, the company I was in this year went on hiatus and now, I am a free agent. Even posted it on good ol Twitter, X, whatever we're calling it. And who replies, the Chairman himself about contract negotiations. So, after some back and forth, Brandon Hendrix signed a multi year deal with SCW. And this time, SCW isn't going to get the fake Brandon Hendrix that you experienced once before. You guys get the God Of War, the Heart And Soul of any company he signs to, the Legend In The Making, The Don, Brandon Fucking Hendrix. And to start the new era, I step into the ring with the previous era. Bill Barnhart. The Bulldog. A SCW veteran ready to return to the ring and face me. Allow me to offer my appreciation for the company. Unfortunately I didn't have enough time to look up everything you've done, but if the preview to our match at SCWrestling.Net where all you fans can check out your favorite wrestlers, says that you're a living legend, then it must be big for the company. So thank you.”

{Clapping from Brandon is the only sound that fills the air before he stops.}

“Now, let me tell you what will happen, however. I'm going to win. You see, my goals in my return to SCW are simple: prove to everyone that Brandon Hendrix is the real deal, become World Champion again, and become a Legend. And unfortunately, that means I'm going to have to kick the ass of the ass kicker. Almost a twisted irony if you think about it, Bill. It'll be a passing of the guard when we face off, because the old school ass kicking outlaw meets the new blood that follows within the same zone for pain and torment we unleash on our opponents. You see, I have no remorse, none whatsoever. In 2020, it was a battle royal, I powerbombed someone out of the ring, they shattered their neck, and could never walk again. Unfortunately, they're no longer with us anymore, but I felt no guilt. As an Ass Kicker, you should best, it's kill or be killed in this game and surviving this long for you and for me with what I had, means we're both killers. So what happens when two killers lock up in the middle of the warzone they create? Bloodshed, casualties, and memories people will want to forget. When we face each other, I want your wife, Bea, there. Nothing inappropriate towards her, I don't run like that. But in reality, it's more so for you than me. See, before our match, I will say a prayer for me, more so for you. I will ask the Lord that your wife will not hesitate to throw in the towel to save you when necessary.

I'm sorry for cutting short, because I am a busy man, but I want the world to watch this match and watch what I can do in that ring when the chips are in the middle of the table. And this might disappoint some that had any interest in me, I do apologize. Being an actual Don is a lot of work. But I promise you, Brandon Hendrix is here to stay, and Brandon Hendrix is here to win, and Brandon Fucking Hendrix is here to be the Best Freaking Wrestler On The Planet. Bill, allow me to offer you a rose and offer my condolences. I'm sorry that your run ends with my start.”

"It was all meant to be so beautiful, it was meant to be the greatest moment of my career. It was supposed to be exactly like my dreams. But then, within a matter of seconds, all of my hopes and dreams were crushed."

Scene calibrates to the sight of an interior blanketed in darkness, with hints of charred, bleak furniture seeming almost entirely dulled and malnourished of life -  if not for the seeps of daylight breathing into the setting. Amongst the rubble and torn chunks of scattered sofa sponge sprawled on the oak tiling, inklings of creaking and shuffling materialize -  the sounds of cupboards and cutlery tinkling and clanging in unison before a figure situates upon the frail leather support endowed. Gently, the left arm is placed onto the coffee table, a piece of bandaging thereafter removed to unveil incredibly charred flesh - the ghastly, ailing skin appearing ravaged by scabs and cuts, such wounding only being afforded to someone indebted to a trade where life and death become as menial as inhaling/exhaling. We witness the figure wince in pain slightly as they apply hydrogen peroxide onto the open flesh - first on the arm and thereafter their left calf. They’re considerably cautious when cleaning the latter with a cotton swab, as the camera pans to reveal a tattoo having been slightly damaged in the spoils of battles. Transcribed on his leg reads the following: “MI X LOV'' surrounded by a red heart that’s being suffocated by a brown tourniquet. The symbolism and ambiguity of both the lettering and imagery loom greatly over us, with the intrigue only mounting as the singular, distinctively sharp hazel eye of Brandon Hendrix is identified. Shortly after patching himself up, he sighs and gazes into the night.

Each raindrop colliding against the corroding steel and windowpane is that of a kaleidoscope. If we could only peer further, the very fabric of what we know would all but cease - or very well give way to material far beyond ordinary comprehension. The hazel eyes, however,  show no interest in allowing the intrigue to linger any longer. He pivots his gaze into one of the singular raindrops, becoming one with the dampened neverland. His mind synchronizes with the pattering percussion of nature’s tears, with the collision onto the concrete surface giving way to a tinnitus-like ringing. In that instance, Brandon's mind had reverted long elsewhere. And so, with a rucksack in tow he evacuated the premises thereafter, navigating to the damp, fairly illuminated streets of the night. Flies ricocheted off the dim orange hues that situated itself from above, the shallow pockets of life that exuded from the barren setting best being expressed by the fleeting murmurs of an inebriated homeless man in the distance, this and the empty liquorice he shouldered in his time of squallar clanging against the heaps of garbage piled . Shortly after entering a vehicle and and wandering off, something about the cinematic grain of navigating through the strobing nightlife of the capital bred a special enamoration within that corner within Brandon's mind - that screeching conscience of which chose to paint the tapestry of the world whatever he saw fit.  And so, the debauch of the city much like the place that once smouldered his youth and innocence became that canvas - it’s story becoming theirs.

“The motherfucking bible I’m forever the truth” summed up Tamer to a tee.

I wash these pills down with liquor and fall (I do)

Leave it to me, I do enough for us all (I do)

Got what you need if you like breakin' the law

My mother raised me a God (Hey)

But everything mentioned prior came with its respective ramifications, the stress of ultimately being unable to fulfill his personal expectations - be it through his lack of own power or the strength of many who opposed him colliding headfirst with life amongst his family only served to turn that initial piss and vinegar into venom. Only here, there was no renovation - rather,  a wish for the reparations to rest where his passion seemingly once resided, no matter the cost. It lost its sense of luster in remarkably quick fashion - acting as no more than empty chainmail to guard the innards of a desire to live up to everything he’d long yearned to become. In finally answering his own cries, Brandon had sworn unbridled committedness to his own perfect circle within, while still failing miserably in crafting his own in the world. A realization that settled as he became the product of chastise to the people whom he once longed to fight on the behalf of - collapsing in his reclamation  in front of millions. For the first time, the world finally had a real reason to hate him - and it tore at him within.

"Of princes there are few, of men with crowns taken by force there are many.”

 “Every fallacious justification for our countless personal mishaps, every failure to revive the youthful fervor of yesteryear that allowed us to stand in a momentary blissful triumph - exalted among all and unrivaled under the heavens. We sit as spokes on that steep merry-go-round, beseechingly watching our lives’ dreams slip through the crevices and plummet into Kingdom Come whilst over time, only being able to remark at the futility of it all, and yet we’ve no choice but to continue subjecting ourselves to the drudgery that is our covenant to this cyclical trade without the mercy of a fruitful end service in near sight. I suppose that over time, that it isn’t absurd that a journeyman wouldn’t prove exempt, to eventually give in and build a haven in such a contraption - to find a great deal of sustenance or intoxication to such a life after so many years of forcefully sifting through it all to guttural diminishing returns. In the end, ultimately knowing it to be no more than a paper-thin rationale to justify time invested. It’s been a journey, to say the least. Alexander Raven...."

"Should you worry about me? Probably not cuz, because you said it best yourself before, everyone suffers a loss. I've been beaten by major stars like Jason Long and Scott Oasis to name a few. I'm a name you expect to beat but you will not. I rather die and fall to the depths of Hell then to let you run around here, all that pep in your step and your ego even bigger because you beat me. You're not better than me. You can be in form, on fire, you can be in the best mindset that you ever have been but it doesn't matter. I'm not stepping into the ring to be your make it performance, I'm stepping into the ring to break you. Heck, the only reason you have this obsession with me is because end of the day, no matter how, no matter why: I. Beat. You. I walked out SCW (different SCW now ain't that something?) Heavy Metal Champion, and you walked out a loser. I walked into the very next week and became SCW Tag Team Champion, while you walked out a loser again. I became a double champion while your only name to fame you have was calling me out. Even after the owner took his ball and closed the company after only four weeks, you always had to keep me in your mind because you knew deep down that if you couldn't of beaten me, you wouldn't of allowed yourself to move on."

Everything goes black. The scene begins with the date "OCTOBER 9TH" in red. That night, Brandon Hendrix held both his titles in his grasp and said:

"...this isn’t for me. This may sound cliche, but this title isn’t for me, it for every single one of you. This...if for everyone that has been told that they aren’t good enough. This is for the people like me who were told to their face that they wouldn’t amount to anything…"

"THIS IS FOR THE PEOPLE WHO HAS EVER HAD A DREAM THAT THEY HAD TO SCRATCH AND CLAW TO ACHIEVE. THIS IS FOR THE PEOPLE WHO FEEL WORTHLESS AND FEEL LIKE THE WORLD WOULD BE BETTER OFF WITHOUT THEM. THIS IS FOR THE PEOPLE  WHO KNOW THEY DON’T HAVE A SNOWBALL’S CHANCE IN THE NINTH CIRCLE OF HELL TO BE ANYTHING MORE THAN NOTHING, BUT FIGHT WITH EVERYTHING THEY HAVE, EVERY OUNCE OF COURAGE AND POWER IN THEIR HEARTS AND THEIR SOULS, UNTIL THEY CAN SAY THAT THEY ARE WORTH A SHIT IN THIS WORLD. THIS. IS. FOR. YOU!!!"

"But, could you have said that, Raven? The False King of no kingdom when Brandon Hendrix is around. I told everyone that me winning those titles was for them, but me beating you, is for me. And while you need to hide behind Twitter, and act like a elementary schooler, telling everyone "but guys Brandon is swearing!", I am out there winning. I'm beating people left and right, gaining opportunities you waste because of this obsession. Now, for the better SCW, I am going to make my mark with YOU. It's simple, I'm going to beat you, end this once and for all, and move on to make a mark in this company. All you can do is watch and learn how a real man makes it big in wrestling."

- Off Camera: My Love -

Brandon Hendrix after losing his final Project Honor match is seen leaving the arena through the building doors that heads towards the parking lot, approaching the Conquest Knight XV vehicle. He quickly pulls his car keys out from his pants pocket, and unlocks the car and takes a deep breath hearing footsteps approaching. He really doesn't want this right now. Already annoyed from the loss earlier, he growls and grits his teeth, turning around with haste, he raises his fist up for a punch. He instintively but stops when he sees who it is. After sighing, he drops both his fists and mental guard.

"I'm sorry mom. I'm just… on edge right now."

The lady now known to be Mama Hendrix approaches her son and gives him a hug. She rubs the back of his head before letting go.

"It's fine my son. I'm so proud of you. You were amazing out there."

"Thank you mom. And thank you for flying out here to watch me compete finally. Unfortunately you had to fly down here to see your son lose."

"Oh honey, to me, it doesn't matter if you lose or if you win, it's about seeing you happy and doing the best you can. Gosh, I haven't seen you that focused since your first match last year."

"It has been a year, huh? Time flies a lot recently."

"So, what's next?"

"I'm going to Sin City mom... and I'm going to make it big, and make sure I buy you everything you want, like you guys worked your ass off for me to get. Even if it kills me... love you mom."

Brandon nods slightly before he and his mom hug each other. Brandon lets out a small sigh before slowly letting go from the hug. He enters the driver seat of the vehicle. He grips the steering wheel tightly. After giving mom a tentative farewell smile, he pushes the start button of the car and drives away from the scene that unbeknown to him right now, could really be the night that makes Brandon Hendrix in SCW, his debut against the man who's been causing him hell for a while now: Alexander Raven.[/font]