Drake Nygma

Flashes of memory burst behind the eyes of Drake Nygma. His energies all over the place. A wicked smirk tips his lips, the high of victory surging through his veins. The visual of how he laid low that arrogant fool dark matter. Drake allowed his smirk to widen, victory it seemed brought about a sense of peace. A measure of joy that existed in minimal amounts. Silver and white strobe lights flickered, the eerie lights sweeping through the air. A distorted voice roaring to life. A voice that sounded as though it had been borne from a nightmare lurking in the shadows. ???: “You know what infuriates me? Someone who lacks the ability to properly plan. To craft a stratagem, to move pieces about on the chessboard of the gods. Therefore we’ll Make notes. Formulate a game plan. Construct a plan, make clear the weaknesses of our foes.” Drake Nygma’s expression switched to a focused intense gaze, a sort of order existing within his inherent madness. It was in times like these that the entity who lived inside Drake’s mind became much more obvious. Drake Nygma cast a malevolent grin as he looked into the camera. Drake Nygma: “Our eyes are open, nothing escapes our notice. None shall survive the events to follow. Bring your best and remember strength can be found in adversity, fire tempers gold, bringing out raw strength. And yet fire also burns all to cinders.” Drake Nygma gave a mock salute as the camera shut down.

A flash of light, that which shimmers like the opening of a great portal breaches the air. Amidst the ethereal energy of the portal a figure can be seen obscured by shadows. Those Shadows acting like a second skin. Like armour. Thus the light broke, darkness taking its place. A darkness that showed no signs of breaking. Signs that it never would be broken. Pale eyes gleamed, a look of unquestionable hunger residing there. “As good as we once were, that’s how far we have fallen. Our eyes have been opened. No longer do we accept the lies laid out like a feast. This theatricality, this performance is but a prelude to that which we value above all.” The gleam deepened, grew immeasurably stronger, suggesting a secondary presence lingering below the surface. This gleam was empty of light, chilling composure held true in every word delivered. “Run. Run. Run. Run. Run along little rabbits. It is said that every man wears two masks, the one he presents day to day. And his true mask. The one that represents who he truly is, that second mask allows that which is dark to come out and play. We however know differently, that first mask is the lie, that grandest of deceptions.” Slow relaxed breaths surged forth, displaying an entity that seemed to be at ease with who they are. “Dark Matter. You are young, a bright future could be yours. We wonder how the darkness will change you. Darkness changes everything, corrupting the light until only the truth remains. We are so much lovelier when we fall. You can only fight the truth for so long. Eventually you all will figure out that purity is a lie, that playing the role of a would-be hero will only harm you in the long run.” Amused laughter slipped out, a thin smirk was all that could be seen. Tendril like vines crawled up the cracked walls of the modern looking castle that came into view, a castle sheathed in an obsidian darkness. In the very centre of this castle lay a gleaming white throne, the only hint of light in this eerie landscape. “All that you dream shall be turned to ash. We shall exploit that which you fear. On with the show. Buried in your bones, that flesh-like form you know we speak the truth. Minds can be broken, torn apart in a flash. We prefer to destroy the minds of those we fight, after all a body can heal. The mind never forgets the horror it experiences. We know this to be the single most obvious truth.” Drake’s narrowed eyes turned in the direction of the portal, catching a glimpse of the black clad figure standing no less than a few feet away. A moment of silent communication seemed to be taking place as Drake took several steps forward, a lack of fear present in his eyes. “It is a fantastic plan. We have a fantastic plan. Let me take over, let me guide your hand, guide our hand. We’ve seen how you’ve suffered, how you’ve endured that which threatened to drive you mad. Together we could remind the waking world of all they’ve forgotten. The perils of obedience. What say you? Will you lay your humanity at our feet and accept the darkness?” Drake Nygma offered a chilling smile, a swift nod as he spoke. “Yes I shall accept the darkness. I shall lay my humanity at your feet. I want to show them the perils of obedience. As i suffered, so too shall they” “Sphinx. Sphinx. Ask me why. Ask me whither goes the wind. Whence the endless tick-stream begins. Sphinx. Sphinx ask me why, All mothers beneath the Earth and sky Hold their children’s hands for a while, their hearts forever - yours and mine .Make me guess who’s the one Behind the mask of Father and Son.Make me wonder what’s the meaning of life. Challenge The Sphinx and you shall see…” All this left the question, who or what had taken control of Drake Nygma. “The Sphinx has come, we have come. Our Darkness is awake, punishment is our goal, of this we are certain. There are many faces to be punished, many minds to break. a darkness older than this mortal world has come to life” “Even more fascinating is the chance to observe a rising star up close. New knowledge shall be gained from this encounter, we shall test the limits of your skill, the eyes of the ancient world are now studying you , fate it seems has chosen to put you to the biggest test of your life" An eerie whisper coiled and uncoiled through the air as this mysterious entity known as The Sphinx walked through the glowing portal, an unsettling silence following this movement. Thus this new darker entity seemed unhinged and yet at the same time…. There was something deliberate about the way this entity acted and spoke. “I did not start off with this dark ambition, this desire to crush all beneath my hand. I only wanted to remind the waking world of all they had forgotten. To make them remember the old ways. The way events have fallen have proven only one thing, you wish me to be your villain. So be it. We shall play the role of villain.

Voiceover: “This shall be your requiem, your final act. Requiem aeternum dona eis. Eternal rest grant to them. Make no mistake we serve no one, at least no one whose interests don’t align with our own.” The voiceover cut out just as quickly as it had begun, a ominous warning lingering in the still quiet night time air. Icy wind rolled out as though the season of winter had arrived in dramatic fashion. Thus as the camera panned left and then right, a tall well dressed young man came into view, all sharp edges and finely constructed bones. Drake Nygma: “So for even the briefest of moments, we have a partner at our backs. An ally chosen by management. For this match our interests are aligned, you wish for victory, so do we.” Silence drifted out and over the air like a heavy weight, oppressive and defiant. The nature of Drake’s other side seizing control in an instant. ???: “You know what I hate more than anything? What I really hate more than anything is a liar. A charlatan. Someone who doesn't believe in what they say. Once the dust settles, once the quiet returns, all will be set right. All will be corrected. Sometimes harsh lessons are needed in order to teach the most important things. Keep your eyes open, make certain you pay attention to what happens when you provoke that which should have been left alone.” Clouds broke, parting to present a silvery glow over the landscape, a haunting silence was all that was left behind, as if illusions were being formed daily, obscuring that which may or may not exist.

Voiceover: “Blackthorne. We’ve listened to your words, to your claims of having mastered the darkness. You speak with confidence, with intensity. That confidence, that intensity won’t be enough to save you when the true face of darkness presents itself. Soon enough you’ll see that everything you’ve said, everything you’ve claimed is set to become one with the dust. The eerie voice that rumbled with an echo as if it were coming from somewhere deep, somewhere lurking beneath the surface, bounced around the walls of a heavily guarded crypt, a crypt that is sparsely decorated, as if the entity that calls this crypt home cares not for the material, cares only for the acts they perform. Voiceover: “Ricky Rhodes. You are amusing. A brute who has seemingly lost his mind. Or the more likely explanation you are simply becoming that which you always were. A simple redneck who knows only to fight, knows only to swing out without thought. You can make whatever promises you like, use whichever words bolster your ego. In the end all that will happen is this… you’ll be lost, trapped inside in that insanity that you claim has woken up a beast. Malevolent laughter surged through the air, a whip like crackle of electricity. Electricity that was presently taking on an unearthly aura. Torches bearing flames lit the walls, providing the first look at a book open to a page detailing The Sphinx. Voiceover: “In ancient Egypt The Sphinx was a spiritual guardian, most often depicted with a crown astride his head. Legend states that The Great Sphinx was an avatar of destruction, of vengeance who walked both the physical realm and the realm of dreams. The Tomb that spawned The Sphinx remained sealed for a great many years, its darkness locked away. Until…. The moment of our return was set in place.” A figure clad in a sharp black suit appeared, it’s form shimmering into view. This figure gave off an otherworldly vibe, power and chaos rolling off its frame. Voiceover: “Ancient traditions illustrated The Sphinx as having wings, the tail of a Serpent. This is a legend that only further increases the dangerous, mystical aura around the noble Sphinx. The thing about legends, about stories is that all true. So, everything I’ve said, everything I will say is true. Just as the ancient Sphinx devoured all those who got its riddles wrong, so too do we aim to break and shatter all those who stand before us.” Calm, relaxed breaths pulsed outwards, an impassive expression forming astride the face of the entity who lived in the body of Drake Nygma. Voiceover: “Finally we have the 5150 champion. April Dimter, a gleaming light in the cold darkness. It will be a pity when you are destroyed, when you are laid low. Of that we are certain. There will be no apologies, no kindness shown in this battle of ideologies. Darkness pitted against darkness, against whatever Ricky Rhodes is, against a quiet light that shall be dimmed soon enough. This is not the first time we have been locked in a cage, nor will it be the last. Our eyes are open, we now are starting a siege of a new kingdom, a kingdom in disarray.” That calm demeanour never once altered, pale hands trailing along the pages of that open book, lips moving as they read further about The Sphinx. Voiceover: “There are two sisters, one gives birth to the other, who in turn gives birth to the first. Who are they?. Ponder this riddle, think on its answer. Make ready for the pending battle, for we are preparing the funeral rites for the victims we aim to claim. We are an Avatar, bent on destruction, on reminding the western world of the perils of provoking an entity who has lived for centuries, an entity that has had centuries to plan, to study, to learn the weakness of mortality.” With no more words the torches exhausted the last of their flames, the icily controlled haunting laughter rippling through the darkness, a resolute and determined quality lingering in its sound.

Voiceover: “From the dawn of the age of man, we’ve seen events play out, seen how mortals act, how they go about getting things done. In all this time we’ve learned that certain traits present themselves. Selfishness. Cruelty. Deceit. Inelegance. Unintelligence.” Breathing slowly, a gust of wind rolled over the roof of what looked to be a tower built of solid marble, hieroglyphs marking the outside, a feat which would have taken an artisan of incredible skill to accomplish. Voiceover: “Mortality is but the blink of an eye. A breath that can be snuffed out in a single moment. This is all too often the case with humans. One could argue that this is the natural order of things. Perhaps it is simply nature doing that which nature needs to do.” The sounds of breathing had grown stronger, sharper. Much more controlled in the seconds that had passed. An odd white glow could be seen in their eyes, a glow that spoke of nothing belonging to earth. Whomever this figure was, whatever they wanted, that remained unclear in the present moment. Voiceover: “For just a moment, imagine what it would be like to wake up in a world you don’t recognize. A time that is not your own. What would you do? How would you reconcile this reality with a past you cannot remember? A past in which…. You bore a name that meant something…. Something of a great importance. From the sky, a odd looking crescent blade fell landing at the feet of the yet nameless figure with eerie white eyes. A blade that had not been seen on earth for countless years. And yet here it was now. What could this mean? Why had it chosen this moment to fall?. Voiceover: “You are so close to a memory, to remembering who you were you once so very long ago. We know you’ll remember when the time is right. Right now nothing is making sense, this is no movie, no dream, no illusion before your eyes. You need to become stronger in both mind and body to learn the truth.” His hand ran over the edge of the crescent blade, the edges sharp enough to cut, to make someone bleed. As his eyes overlooked the blade, he swore he could hear a whisper alighting itself just behind his ears. Voiceover: “Vengeance…..” His eyes snapped upwards, a curious and confused gleam lingering in their depths. This was the look of someone who was figuring out who they had been, and how that related to who they were in the present day. “Vengeance…. What could that mean… Vengeance against whom? Just one person? A vast swathe of humanity? Who is that voice that we have begun to hear. In time we’ll figure that out. For now, I’ll keep on moving forward, pursuing answers amidst the path of teaching those we fight the error of their ways in challenging us.” Fade to black…

The faint glow of a silvery moon hung high overhead, wrapping the landscape below in an ethereal glow. The silvery glow swept across the land, a natural grace present within it. An entity stood amidst the light, an unreadable expression could be seen by way of greeting. Voice-over: “Bruv? How inelegant your language is. It is clear that the art of well crafted language is lost on you. How quickly you reveal your flaw. Bruv is not a word in the lexicon, nor an accepted term.” The figure strode along the ground, dust kicking up with each movement. There was an otherworldly grace to the movement. Something definitely out of place in this modern world in which they now stood. Voice-over: “This world is not our own, not the one we know. So many things are out of line with that which we believe in. Sophistication. Ethics, intelligence all of these concepts have fallen into eternal nothingness. You think us a fraud? A perpetrator of deception? How quickly you expose a lack of understanding of who you are set to encounter.” The pale glow of their eyes seemed to be searching, to be studying something off in the distance. A thoughtful gaze broke out for but a second, their expression focused if slightly out of control, hinting at something that lay locked away in this moment. Voice-over: “We see you. Your supreme confidence speaks to a deep seated insecurity. Worry not TJ, your insecurity will soon be erased, we’ll make certain of it. You say I made a deal with the devil.. How wrong you are, how very wrong you are. You are correct we see you as a new face, new to our eyes, these eyes that have seen much, much that no mortal could ever truly understand.” With no more words spoken the figure without name simply vanished into the night, a myriad of questions left in their wake.

Bursts of thunder roar throughout the sky, the sound like a call of a ferocious beast slowly waking up. Each burst of thunder provided illumination over the scene, displaying a single solitary figure standing atop what looked like a roughly formed mountain. Roars of wolves, sounds of exertion filled the air. Eventually the figure turned around, dark probing angry eyes glaring down as if staring at unseen forces hiding behind the veil. Frustration builds inside the orbs of Drake Nygma. A violent storm of emotion hidden deep inside those self-same orbs. Drake Nygma began to pace, his steps kicking up dust and debris with his movements. It was then that he heard a voice in his head, a voice that spoke of the value of patience, of a deeper knowledge not yet known in this mortal world. A voice that sounded like ancient devil Drake Nygma: “Mysteries upon mysteries, questions posed and left unanswered. Word has it that we are to team with an entity known as Dark Matter, we’ll be watching you, to see whether or not you would make a worthy ally. Fail us, and your punishment shall be severe.” A breath was taken here, a deeply thoughtful look crossing the frustrated brow of Drake Nygma, his warning resting in the air, nothing more to be said regarding Dark Matter at present. Drake Nygma: “Whispers of allies have reached my ears, name is rarely spoken of. It has been a long time since I’ve allied with anyone, found anyone worthy of allying with. This mortal world rife with weakness, with their soft ways. Soon the roster of AWS will see what happens when those who honour, strength, and the old gods align under one banner”. Drake Nygma’s hands turned to fists, concentration filling his eyes. Turning to look out over the mountain Drake Nygma would see what looked like a figure in the distance, a figure obscured by shadows. This would tell Drake Nygma that whoever was obscured by this shadow he had yet to properly meet. ???: “Hail and greetings Drake Nygma, the time for building an alliance is approaching. Soon you’ll meet allies who will fight by your side. Until that moment make sure you are ready for the battles to come.” The unnamed figure vanishes in a gust of wind, leaving Drake Nygma to ponder the exact meaning of the words spoken aloud. Drake Nygma: “Make ready for the battles to come… allies I’ll soon meet. Building an alliance…. To what end I wonder…” Drake Nygma’s words danced on the wind, before being swept away as if a deal had been made at that moment.

A flicker of distaste appears on the facial expression of one Drake Nygma. The set of his eyes display a steadily building fury. A fury that comes from a time older than this mortal world. This is the purest of all truths known in his mind. His lips turn in a scowl, a darkening burst of feral anger. His mind is spinning, spinning, spinning, out of control, an event that has never before happened in his lifetime. Voiceover of Ricky Rhodes:” First there is this guy called Drake Nygma. I swear he’s like a little wart I can’t get rid of. Everytime I turn around there he is like we're attached at the hip. It seems like every match I’m in, so is he, but he refuses to meet me ONE ON ONE. I think it’s because he knows he’s not capable of coming close to my level. I have to admit at times though he’s impressed me & I thought he was under the “learning tree” when he helped me attack Vin Halsted but it quickly proved that wrong. (Laughs evil) now it’s my turn to once again take him to school & beat him once again within an inch of his life.” Drake’s scowl deepens, taking on a harder, icier edge. Akin to that of a blade in human form. Or more accurately the form of a deity who grows more unhinged by the days that pass. Breathing slowly, Drake begins to speak, his tone dripping with disdain, dripping with aggression. “A wart am I?. No. I am much worse than a wart. I am the new face of darkness. We are the new face of darkness. Continue on with your childish insults, reveal just how much you are underestimating us. You’ll regret doing that Mr Rhodes. You won’t be the first to underestimate us, to think us nothing more than a fool. By all means, keep assuming you know us. It’ll make your defeat that much sweeter in the end.” Turning his head, Drake refocuses on the camera, a dangerous gleam in his eyes. A gleam that seems out of place in this modern world. Voiceover of Blackthorne: "Drake Nygma, the man of a thousand riddles. You thrive in chaos, delighting in the confusion you sow. But chaos is my domain, and I am its master. Your riddles are child's play in the grand theatre of shadows I command. You will find no solace in your mind games when confronted by the abyss of my psyche. Every riddle you pose will be met with the harsh truth of your own insignificance." “You are correct. I delight in the confusion wrought by my actions, wrought by our hands. You claim the role of master, and yet you have not earned that right. Insignificance? You and Ricky share a common flaw, namely that your ego won’t allow you to see the threat that is staring you right in the face. You’ll learn the error of your ways soon enough, naturally it’ll happen the hard way. This is the way forward, educating AWS one mind at a time, revealing the true strength of the ancient world.” A pause is taken here, a reflective almost contemplative look residing in Drake Nygma’s eyes. “And finally we have one more name to be laid out before us, one more soul to meet their judgement. Make your peace, cherish the time you have left before the might of ancient Egypt wipes you all out, removing the stench of your mortality from AWS. Buckle up mortals, for what's to come is far more than a simple match. This is a lesson, a teachable moment, a word of warning. Should any of you be responsible for the events following that open invitational match, I will personally make sure you regret your foolish actions.” Drake bared his teeth in a feral snarl, a rumbling roar bursting through the air as the camera blacked out from the violent energy rolling off of Drake Nygma in this moment. Fade to black…

Drake Nygma voiceover: “Brutality I can respect. This is a harsh business. I know that. But you made a big mistake. You didn’t put me down, not by a long shot. Now you’ve earned yourselves an enemy. An enemy who will see you taken down.” A focused, darkening gleam held true in the eyes of Drake Nygma, his newly won American championship resting on his shoulder. This was the brilliant gleam of an entity who sought out violence, welcomed it. “TJ Alexander, You are the first to be set before us. You’ll be broken, you’ll be defeated. Not because I’m evil, but because I’m making a point. I’m the inaugural American champion, that will never change.” Drake’s words filtered through the air, a dominant and controlled tone of voice, melding with the darkness that defined his career thus far. “It appears that we have some would-be invaders in AWS. You took your shot, and you failed to take us down. Now it’s my turn. I wonder how I’ll punish you all, so many options…. So very many options indeed” A vicious and feral smirk twisted Drake’s lips as he pondered the ways in which he’d see those foul intruders punished for their failed hit. “Setting aside the matter of those would-be invaders, one must look to the future, ready themself for all threats. Most would cower and run, or perhaps seek allies. Me? I’ll not cower and run. Allies? If I have to acquire allies I shall do so. Teaming up with anyone is not our standard way of handling things.” Thus in this ominous darkness, in this desire to walk his path alone, Drake Nygma found himself tapping into his more otherworldly persona, a persona whose penchant for violence outstripped Drake’s penchant for it. The Sphinx: “I do not tolerate weakness, nor will I entertain the idea of sentimentality. To any and all future challengers, should you wish to come for my crown, for our crown, you best be sure that you put me down for good. Failure to do so will result in everything you fear being brought to life.” A pulse rocketed through the air, as if a breath had been taken, allowing the words of The Sphinx to be pondered. The Sphinx: “Rumours like voices in the wind, voices that claim they can do better as American champion than I. How will ye know him among the rest? How will you know the champion among those who wield no golden crown? You’ll find him by the glint of that sacred gold which calls to the hearts of men… like a siren's song that none can resist.” Bell-like chimes echoed through the air, a serene soft sound that stood in stark contrast to the darkening chaotic nature of Drake Nygma. Shadows flickered along the wall, forming the shapes of ancient creatures, monsters barely seen in centuries, monsters that seemed to heed the call of The Sphinx. Drake Nygma Voice Over: “When you see me coming, run. Tell your friends of the entity known as The Sphinx. I won’t hide nor conceal the fact that we are hunting down those who earn our ire, who cling to their selfish ways. Quote The Sphinx Forevermore.” Fade to black….

A cold wind blew at my back, unforgiving and chaotic as was often the way of nature. Lightning roared throughout the quiet night sky. Each burst of lightning illuminated the scene. Providing a glimpse of a solitary figure standing in front of what looked like a long forgotten tomb. Breaking through the air, a low and feral growl rumbled. The sound resembles something like a lion guarding its den. Drake Nygma: “Did you know that in the ancient world, lions were seen as symbols of spirituality, bloodlust, divinity, kingship, sometimes safety and peace. In Ancient Egypt Lions were viewed as a symbol of both danger and protection. Regarded as the fiercest warrior. Lions are both a proud hunter and a member of nobility, nay a king in the form of a beast. I do not claim to be a king, no. Instead I aim to open the eyes of the waking world to what it means to be a warrior, a true fighter forged in the fires of a long forgotten past.” Drake's eyes swung in the direction of the fearsome sounding growl, this sound would put fear in the heart of a lesser man.Drake had long since overcome his fear of the lion. A fear that he had been mocked for as a child. Now Drake would take the symbol of something that had terrified his younger self and turn it into strength, a key component of the very nature that guided his hand. Drake Nygma: “I hear your roars, I hear your growls Oh fierce and proud hunter of the jungle and desert. You and I are not so different, each of us playing a role that we neither asked for nor wanted. And yet you have amassed a wonderful strength, through bloodshed and combat you have become king of the pride. I applaud your savagery and skill. It is my intention to introduce a skilled focused style of combat to AWS. Thus bridging the gap between the human world and the ancient one. I’ll prove myself worthy of the mantle of The Sphinx, of the right to be the one to unite the two worlds under one banner.” The lion circled Drake Nygma for what felt like endless hours, its heavy paws leaving indentations in the ground beneath it. With each step the lion growled louder, seemingly testing the mettle of the man it was presently circling. Eventually the growls gave way to huffs as if the lion had decided that it couldn’t detect a hint of fear on this curious looking male. Drake breathed out slowly, expelling the tension from his slender frame. With each breath his chest rose and fell, his lips curling in a smirk that spoke of a deep and true sense of confidence. Drake Nygma: “And now to cast an eye towards the present day…” Fade in on the present day…. Warm golden sun peeked in through the partially open window of what appeared to be a simple and yet classically designed living room. There was an eerie sense of quiet about the room, minimal chatter made this particular room slightly more interesting. Drake Nygma: “Chess. The gentleman’s game. A game that requires a mix of strategy and sacrifice. Each piece on the chessboard has value, from the pawn all the way up to the king and queen. A journey starts with but a single step, as does my career in Asylum Wrestling Society, my eyes are now turned to the pursuit of the American Championship. One question remains… who will be the one to capture the American championship… we shall find out upon the conclusion of this open challenge elimination match. What do I seek by competing in AWS? I seek the opportunity to reveal the mysteries of the ancient world… to a generation of people who have lost their way, who have forgotten the primal nature of what man was born from”. Drake held a single chess piece, the pawn between his fingers, crushing the chess piece to dust. Rising to his feet, he would mockingly bow to the camera. Even now he was exploiting his showmanship in an attempt to get under the skin of his opponent. Waging mental warfare long before the match had begun. His chosen form of dress was a simple black and white suit. The colors represent right and wrong, moral and immoral, justice and revenge. Drake Nygma was a riddle wrapped in an enigma, and very soon AWS would come to know this fact. Drake Nygma: “The American Championship is a fitting crown, a golden artefact to attain, to wield as a symbol of the rebirth of the primal world. Man may have forgotten his roots, we have not forgotten from what we were born. Open your eyes mortals and pay attention you just might learn something” Fade to black….

A darkness flowed forth, an impassive look astride the facial features of Drake Nygma. It had become clear that Ricky Rhodes was a man of a lesser intelligence, one who did not understand the bigger picture. Rolling his eyes, Drake’s features grew tight, cold, hard, akin to a razor blade. “I turned on you? This would imply we were ever allies in the first place. Let me be clear, we were never allies. You can think that you were screwed, you can imagine yourself to be a victim of some plot to deny you a championship. Believe that which makes you feel good, that which feeds your ego.” A pulse rumbled through the air, eerie energy reminiscent of an entity older than this mortal realm seized control, an icily controlled style of speech slipping past the lips of Drake Nygma. “Nothing infuriates us more than someone who does not possess the cognizant mental ability to grasp that which is spoken, that which is made clear. You consider me your project? In turn we aim to showcase your lack of intelligence. You Mr Rhodes are all brawn no brains. Your closest ancestor would be the neanderthal caveman. Don’t tax your simple inefficient brain, just keep on acting like a big unintelligent brute.” Drake’s expression remained hard, his facial features set in a mask that betrayed zero emotion. “Such a tiny brain, what must it be like in there. I’ve indulged you and your simplistic ways thus far because it’s been amusing. Now I find myself growing tired of your boorish ape-like ways. At Clash at the beach, you’ll see how the mind overcomes strength. Technical prowess against strength. I for one am looking forward to seeing what you do when faced with a mind that is far sharper, far more intelligent than anything you’ve ever seen.” Drake Nygma leaned back in a decadent looking chair which resembled a throne. His form was clad in a sharp black suit, suggesting that he had become one with the darkness, his identity altered into something new, something darker. Something vastly more intelligent, with a penchant for showmanship. A single glass of single malt whiskey lay at his side, the choice of drink implying that this newer version of Drake Nygma was sophisticated on one hand, brutality serving as the other half of his personality. “I'm beyond the archetype, And the vultures all start circling, They're whispering, you're out of time Ricky Rhodes. In your case, yours specifically I’m the one to take you down. To make sure you are forever changed.” Downing the drink in an elegant fashion, the gesture indicative of the classier side of his character. Showman and instrument of chaos both. This is what it means to be Drake Nygma. His expression never altered from its impassive state, a state that acted like armour, separating his former emotionality from his lack of emotions. In all the history that Drake Nygma had experienced, emotions had never been his strong point. They never would be. Emotions made you weak after all, susceptible to manipulation, something that he saw all too often in those who he fought. AWS was full of people driven by emotions, driven by sentiment. “A man with nothing that he loves…is a man who cannot be bargained. A man that cannot be betrayed. A man who answers to no one… but himself.” Drake Nygma spoke, his tone full of cunning and reflecting his crafty, intelligent nature. With no words spoken Drake Nygma turned on his heel, his footsteps echoing in the quiet still air, his words were an ominous foreshadowing of the events to come.

The camera pans and spins around to reveal a black and white suit clad figure sitting at the head of a table. As the camera continues to spin and pan it becomes obvious that this suit clad figure is sitting alone, no other presence easily seen or spotted within this very room. Fine art decorates the wall, clearly this figure has a taste for the finer things in life. At least that is the impression given by the room that is seen through the lens of the camera. Amidst the darkness a masculine sounding voice begins to speak. Drake Nygma: “One week. Seven days. 168 hours. 10,800 minutes. 604,800 seconds. Time is an abstract construct meant to offer up some small measure of control over the path you walk. And yet that construct is a lie, the only real control is the control taken by one’s own hand.” A pause was taken here, a deeply thoughtful expression crossing Drake’s face. An eerie sense of calm flashed outward, the kind of calm possessed by the type of individual who understood the darkness as well as the light that lived within the hearts of man. Drake’s eyes turned to look down the lens of the camera. Drake Nygma: “Thus in this same time period, the passing of it has brought forth a new opponent, a new competitor to wage war against. Brody Steele…. A name about which I’ve found zero information. An anomaly in this modern age of social media in which everyone has a paper trail. There exists barely a whisper about who you are, what you want, where you come from. This lack of information matters little in the end. The American championship represents a gold hued crown, a crown that belongs in the hands of an entity who will forge it into a symbol of brutality.” Another pause was taken here as Drake reached down to sip at a tumbler of single malt whiskey, a drink that oozed class and spoke to the refined nature of Drake Nygma. A deep rumble of amused laughter spilled out from between the lips of one Drake Nygma. Adorning the walls of this expansive looking room were portraits, paintings of The Sphinx, the entity with whom Drake shared his body. Drake Nygma: “The legends say that The Sphinx was the protector of Egypt. A brutal creature and yet also they were capable of kindness to a rare few. This is the nature of the entity whom I share a body with. Our partnership, our connection goes back to a time filled with a great darkness.” Setting the now completely drained cup down, an odd look filled out Drake’s features, a thunderous sound echoing throughout the air. ???: “So this is the mortal realm…. Inhabited by those tiny creatures…. Those humans. How interesting. Those portraits are almost accurate, almost a true reflection of who I am. However one key detail is missing, the crown of upper and lower Egypt. That artefact was placed in my protection long ago.” A wicked smirk tipped the lips of This entity who hadn’t announced its name as of yet. Delighting in the mystery, rich laughter would fill the air, the sound was almost mocking in a way. ???: “An open challenge is useful as a stepping stone that I’ll use to advance my position in this fledgling company. I do hope you will provide even a small amount of fight. I’ve crossed time and space, seen countless empires rise and fall, crushed those who would provoke my wrath. Uprisings fall every day just as those who start them do. Question is…. Will you join the number of Uprisings crushed beneath my foot.” A pause was taken here, a glimmer of a dark smirk flashing outwards. ???: “Legend states that when the crowns of both regions of Egypt are unified it represents a double crown referred to as either the Pschent or as the Sekhemity. Which means ‘The Two Powerful Ones. The Pschent combines the hedjet known as the white crown of Upper Egypt. With the deshret known as the red crown Lower Egypt. This crown symbolises two halves united. That is what we seek…. To unify our dark half with the human half of our soul known as Drake Nygma.” Rising from the seat this darker figure paced along the floor, a gleam flashed throughout their eyes. ???: “It was widely believed in Egypt that I was a representation of their sun god, Horemakhet or Horus of the horizon. Records show that in Egyptian culture The Sphinx symbolises royalty and sacred status. My wrath knows no bounds, my fury shall reign unchecked. I’d consider your next move carefully mortals… lest you make an enemy with a long memory who never forgets a slight, never forgets an insult.” Lights flicker, glass cracks, lightning flashes on the horizon providing a momentary look at a figure that seemed far more than human in that moment. Turning on his heel the nameless figure vanishes, leaving no trace of them ever having been there at all. Fade to black….

Quiet. Pristine. Silence. Clean. Logical. All encompassing. This was what Drake Nygma knew and understood on a level that went beyond basic understanding. This was not to say that he was inactive by any means, rather that he acted only when necessary, and did not fall prey to the overwhelming need to always be talking, always be moving. His eyes opened slowly, only the iris could be seen. There was something darker, chaotic about his eyes, a sense of something or someone waking up. “Jake Ryan. You and I shall fight, our paths cross for the very first time. An intriguing prospect to be sure. I do love first encounters, so full of hope don’t you think? The possibilities are endless. Now most will come across all fire and bluster, a mask to cover up some deep rooted weakness.” Drake took a long pause, a smirk twisting his lips, the smirk of a man who was comfortable in his own skin. Breathing slow, calm, his composure never once wavered, not for any reason at all. Confidence was both his biggest strength and greatest weakness. History had taught him that at least. “The rare few who are previously humbled, will meet the fight head on, all ego and arrogance laid to one side, ready to battle as if it were life or death. Which one are you? The humble warrior or the type of man who believes in the ego above all else. Reflect on this question, know thyself Jake Ryan. The Sphinx has chosen you as his next target, his next foe to conquer.” Drake’s words came out in an eerie whisper, his voice low and barely audible. Thus it would appear that he had barely even spoken at all. “Did you know that those who are truly in control, need not yell or rant to make a point. By speaking softly it conveys a certain elegant strength. Or maybe it’s the mark of someone who is both warrior and poet. A true renaissance man.” A thrum of energy pulsed throughout the air, a rising wave of dark energy whose origin was unclear. “Settle your affairs, make peace with your failures, soon I’ll speak the last rites over your defeated broken body. This is the simplest of truths.” Turning on his heel Drake vanished from view, his warning lingering in the air.

Thunder shattered the still calm of the air. A gentle summer’s day now lay broken, the peace had been disturbed by nature itself. Nature was a fierce beast, cold and warm in equal measure, this was known by all who understand the ways of the world. Dark eyes opened, blinking once every few seconds. “Ricky Rhodes it seems you and I are to do battle a third time. You are persistent I’ll give you that. But persistence alone won’t be enough to win this war, nor to give you a victory. No. Victory is the result of effort, of strategic planning. Bring your twisted steel, bring your ten gallon hat, bring your grit and experience. I’ll give you a lesson in what it means to fight against chaos itself.” Drake Nygma’s features turned almost eerily calm, a composed expression tilting his features. It was a rare man who could be calm in the heat of battle, a man used to weathering storms. Despite his youth Drake Nygma knew first hand what it was like to fight against a more seasoned opponent. “Experience can be like a winter thunder on a wild wind, rolling in from a distance, breaking hard in alarm, but sometimes a storm is just a storm. In your case Ricky Rhodes, your experience is the storm breaking hard in alarm, I am the wild wind that battles against your storm.” Slow relaxed breaths pulsed outwards, even as energy rose and coiled through the air like that of a winged creature assessing its prey. Something dark unfolded in the eyes of Drake Nygma, a thousand mysteries coming to life. “Our paths do cross once more, again we find ourselves standing across the ring from one another. One might argue that this is the start of a fight that may yet rage on for the duration of our lifetimes. Of course a more practical person would simply look at this as another opportunity to prove themselves. The question is which are you, a believer in the path to be walked or someone who values only the fight”. Flickering orange hued flames rose up into the air, tendrils of flame dancing of their own accord. Amidst the currently darkening sky, a momentary glimpse of something older, far more ancient flickered upon Drake Nygma’s face. “I’m not done yet, I won’t stop. I cannot stop. Everyone wants to build a legacy. I’ll build mine at the expense of yours. Maybe you’ll win, maybe you won’t. Is winning worth the price you’ll pay now that The Sphinx has awoken?.” An amused curious look filtered outward, a mocking smirk was all that could be seen. Slowly the flames died out as darkness fell over the land like a monstrous creature returning once more to the land it knows as home. All that’s left behind is the ashes of the former fire that had been lit, Drake’s form having vanished into the darkness as though he were born into it.

An inrush of bitter winter wind crests over the barren landscape, not a single soul in sight save for the enigmatic form of Drake Nygma. Aside from the wind, alongside the gentle sound of Drake Nygma’s breathing, the area is sheathed in silence. Such pristine silence fell over the landscape, a silence that had a heavy weight to it. Stretching out his limbs Drake tapped a hand against the solid muscle of his leg, a half smirk tilting his lips, soft slow sounds of clapping rang through the air in a mocking sort of fashion. This mocking clapping was something of a signature for Drake Nygma, or at least that is what it was becoming of late. “Ricky Rhodes. I align with no one, I need no fast counting referee to earn a victory. I function alone, that is how I’ve always done things. And how I’ll always do things. There is this concept called projecting, that is to say it is the process of displacing one’s feelings onto a different person, animal or object. The term is most commonly used to describe defensive projection. Question is what are you projecting hmm? I plan on building a legacy, one match at a time.” Drake paused thoughtfully here to let his words sink in. The half smirk turned into a narrow grin, brilliant white teeth gleaming amidst the shadows. “And now to address the man known as Blackthorn. I’ll admit you have an interesting name. Points for creativity. Pain and suffering? Threatening me with a good time? You boast that you are the shadow that consumes as if this meant to be threatening? I’m no stranger to pain or suffering, I’ll keep on fighting, keep on coming, I don’t quit, nor do I break. You can dress it up any way you like, use whichever metaphors make you feel confident and in control. I admire your dedication to an ideal, it’s heart-warming and touching. Reality has come knocking, I have come knocking. Open your eyes boys, this is no fairy-tale, no story to send a child to sleep. This is the real world in which Shadows can be snuffed out, cowboys broken and put down.” Low pitched mocking laughter rang out, confidence and charisma oozing from every pore of Drake Nygma. A tumbleweed rolled on by, tossed about by the wind. The sound of a horse neighing far off in the distance could be heard, prompting a sarcastic remark from Drake Nygma. “Ricky Rhodes is that you?” Thirty seconds later after Drake managed to stop laughing, his expression would turn serious for a moment, a determined look shining in the depths of his eyes. “I’m young, rich and inexperienced in the ways of in ring combat. Green as grass you might say. Funny thing is I can gain experience, can improve, and can master the technical aspect of this career. But you? You cannot regain your youth short of stepping into the lazarus pit or finding the fountain of youth. I'll watch and learn, I’ll observe, I’ll study tapes, I’ll hone my craft. What better way to learn than by battling grizzled veterans…. Like Ricky Rhodes. Credit where credit is due you are one tough son of a gun. You sure can take a beating. Deliver a hell of a beating too. For that I admire your tenacity. Rest assured that my admiring your tenacity won’t mean I pull my punches this time around. My legacy starts here, with the Iron Survivor match.” Drake’s eyes lit up, a flash of amusement lurking in them as he began to speak anew. "Vin Halsted? That’s a unique sounding name. The origin of which I do not know. His last name reminds me of a cop on Chicago P.D. Fun with word association. Fire tests gold, or in this case it would be more apropos to say that Iron shall be tested. There shall be no count out result this time, no cheap gag to end this match. A clear and decisive winner, a hand shall be raised in victory, a new chapter of history shall be written and I intend to write this one.” His expression turned contemplative, unwavering focus displayed upon his fine boned facial features. “This above all: to thine own self be true.I know who I am. Who I’m meant to be, Who I’ll grow into. All that remains is to see who will stand my way as I walk the path that leads to my inevitable legacy” Drake bowed low, a mocking smirk on his face as the camera faded to black.

A wisp of darkness floats throughout the silent and barren room that appears to take on the aesthetic of a bar, the kind of place one might expect to find a young man seeking liquid courage ahead of a night out. Or perhaps it's more apt to say you'd likely find a wide array of humanity here, either those running from or running to something. In the centre of this dingy and dirty bar sat the tall and well dressed figure of one Drake Nygma. "Cage Eames. You and I are set against the other. In an extremist match. The idea of chaos is wholly appealing. As is the idea of creating a masterpiece of brutality on the canvas that is your body. From what I've heard people say about you, you love a good fight. So do I. In this you and I are alike. What sets us apart? I don't look at this as just a match. This is war, a war that I aim to win." Drake took a pause here as he sipped at the bourbon that had just been placed before him. "I admit that before today I'd never before heard of you. Your motives are shrouded in mystery. Your fighting style is not yet known. This makes you a compelling case, an enigma if you will. Regardless of your enigmatic status, regardless of the mysteries you present I'll fight. I will only accept maximum effort, anything less will be met with harsh punishment. This is your moment to shine. Make this moment in time worth I do not give second chances nor do I forgive a lack of effort." Drake's sternly worded warning hung in the air, the aura of dominance he presented was obvious in how he held himself, from the controlled way he spoke, to the way he dressed in clean and stylish clothing. This was a man who exercised a iron fist like control in all areas of his life. A moment or two later, Drake rose from his bar stool, the glass of bourbon now completely empty, the liquid drained in between bursts of speech. Moving swiftly with a cat like grace Drake exited the bar, his eyes locked on the horizon as he made his way towards a gym he often used to train ahead of his matches. //Privately owned Gym// Half an hour later Drake stood in a quiet, clean and state of the art of gym. Grappling dummies, machines that offered up a optimal training regime matched to the known fighting styles of the modern world. Today the setting Drake would use was powerhouse, focused on harsh, heavy hitting blows. This match with Cage required a higher level of violence, thus Drake focused on building enough force behind his blows to be used in such a way that injuries might be handed out. Moving through the training process Drake began to sweat, the exertion eventually catching up with him. "Cage... I'll see you soon. May chaos ever be in your favour" Fade to black...

🩸 LUNATIC PROFILE FORM 🩸 📛 BASIC INFORMATION Ring Name: The Sphinx Real Name: Drake Nygma Nickname(s): The Anatomist of Emotion • The Cold Code • The Unfeeling One Date of Birth: January 9 Gender: Male Hometown: Cairo, Egypt Billed From: “The Quiet Between Thought and Action” Height: 6′5″ (196 cm) Weight: 89 kg / 196 lbs Alignment: Cold Tweener (Detached Neutral / Calculating / Apathetic Heel Lean) Wrestling Style(s): Technical • Submission • Precision Striker Debut Year: 2021 🧠 CHARACTER DETAILS Persona / Gimmick Summary: Drake Nygma, once known for his cryptic charm, has shed every trace of charisma. “The Sphinx” now embodies the human void—an intellect unburdened by empathy, viewing the ring as an operating table where weakness is dissected and illusion destroyed. His calm is not peace but vacancy; his purpose, not victory but demonstration. Catchphrase(s): “Emotion is the disease. Detachment is the cure.” “I don’t fight for passion—I fight to prove apathy works.” “Mercy is dead.” Entrance Theme: “The Devil Within” – Digital Daggers Entrance Description: The arena drops into a sterile white haze. No pyro, no fanfare—just the steady drone of an EKG and the pulse of the opening piano. The Sphinx steps through the fog wearing a fitted black shirt and coat, hair cropped close, eyes void of expression. Each step is measured, his posture almost too upright. He stops halfway down the ramp, looks at the ring as if calculating an equation, then ascends the steps without a glance toward the crowd. When the lights snap back to full, he’s already in the corner—motionless, waiting. Manager / Stable: None (current) Trademark Objects / Props: None — his presence alone is the instrument. 💥 MOVESET Finisher(s): The Sphinx’s Warning II – Modified guillotine choke transitioned into a body-scissored neck crank; held until the opponent fades, not taps. The Answerless – Single-leg trap transitioned into a seated arm triangle; cold, suffocating precision. Signature Moves: The Stillness Kick – Measured roundhouse to the temple after baiting hesitation. The Equation Breaker – Iconoclasm → instant snap DDT combination. Dissection Sequence – Chain of limb manipulations ending in a hammerlock stomp. Zero Pulse Driver – Short brainbuster with deliberate delay, like pausing a heartbeat. Common Moves: Swinging back elbow • Superkick • Uppercut • Rolling kneebar • Grounded forearm flurry • Single-leg takedown to armbar • Spine stomp • Kneeling DDT • Precision dropkick • Standing crossface Weapon of Choice: None — his control is his weapon. 🩸 PROMO STYLE Tone: Cold, clinical, cerebral. He speaks like he’s giving a post-mortem report, never raising his voice. Accent / Voice: Even, deliberate, soft English-neutral inflection. Preferred Setting: Empty locker room, mirror reflections, or dark analytical vignettes. Notable Lines: “Compassion slows the hand.” “Every opponent is just another study in resistance.” 🏆 CHAMPIONSHIP HISTORY Titles Held: AWS Legacy Champion (Current / Returning) Notable Rivalries: TBD – formerly emotional, now irrelevant by his own admission. Major Accomplishments: First Legacy Champion to vacate title by choice and return to defend it without emotion. 🧬 AESTHETICS & ATTIRE Ring Gear: Matte-black compression top, minimalist black tights, short wrist wraps. No logos. Entrance Gear: Tailored long coat; black gloves. Tattoos / Scars / Features: Cropped hair, calm expression, faint surgical scar beneath left ear. Color Scheme / Symbolism: Black & White — absolute clarity vs. void. 📸 MEDIA & PRESENCE Titantron Video: Black-and-white montage of slow, surgical imagery—hands tightening tape, pulse monitor flatlining, glass shattering in reverse. Logo / Emblem: A single unblinking eye within a geometric triangle. Merch Ideas: “FEEL NOTHING.” minimalist tee (white text on black) “Mercy Is Dead.” hoodie Limited Edition poster: “The Anatomy of Detachment.” 🕯️ BACKSTORY / LORE Drake Nygma was once the enigmatic showman known as The Enigmatic One—eloquent, cerebral, yet human. But years of betrayal and corporate games calcified something inside him. Emotional exhaustion gave way to an awakening: that empathy was interference, and sentiment a flaw in judgement. After disappearing from AWS, Nygma isolated himself, stripping every trace of personality until only precision remained. Now returning as The Sphinx, he is not a hero or a villain—he is an algorithm wearing flesh, a detached mind studying the chaos of others. His every match is an experiment in control. His opponents call it cruelty. He calls it clarity. “I am not here to feel. I am here to correct.”