Drake Nygma

The Sphinx & Orphius Interview

Tag Team Bio: The Dissonant ForcesMembers: "The Sphinx" Drake Nygma (6’5”, / 89.1 kg) – Unpredictable, theatrical, and unhinged. A master of mind games and chaos. "The Silent Tempest" Orphius Marius (6’3”, 240 lbs) – Cold, calculated, and poetic. A silent force of destruction with an enigmatic presence. Alignment: Heel Combined Weight: 329.1Tag Team Entrance DescriptionThe lights in the arena flicker erratically before plunging into darkness. A slow, eerie hum builds as the titantron displays cryptic symbols and shifting riddles. The silence is shattered by the distorted sound of a storm rolling in, mixed with unsettling laughter that echoes throughout the arena.A dim spotlight illuminates the entrance ramp, revealing Orphius Marius, standing motionless, his head slightly bowed, his face unreadable. Next to him, Drake Nygma crouches low, a twisted grin on his face as he tilts his head, scanning the crowd with eerie intensity. As the music—an ominous blend of orchestral dread and electronic dissonance—reaches its peak, Drake suddenly lurches forward, staggering and twisting like a marionette cut loose, while Orphius walks methodically behind him, exuding cold authority. Together, they move toward the ring—one a storm held in eerie control, the other chaos barely contained. Upon reaching the ring, Orphius steps through the ropes with composed precision, while Drake slides under, slithering like a serpent before perching himself in a corner, rocking slightly as if waiting for the perfect moment to strike. The air is heavy with unease as the arena drowns in a mix of anticipation and dread. Tag Team Finishing Moves"Dissonance Theory" – Orphius lifts the opponent into a Wheelbarrow Position, only for Drake to spring forward and catch them with a Rolling Cutter (The Sphinx’s Judgment) in mid-air, driving their head into the mat with brutal impact. "The Grand Collapse" – Orphius locks the opponent in an Elevated Guillotine Choke, hoisting them just off the mat. As they struggle, Drake charges in with a Dropkick, sending the opponent crashing to the canvas while still locked in Orphius’s grip "The Silent Riddle" – Orphius delivers a Thunderous Spinebuster, keeping the opponent grounded just long enough for Drake to hit a Diving Senton Bomb, crushing them under the weight of chaos and precision combined. Tag Team DynamicThe Dissonant Forces are a study in unsettling contrasts—Orphius, the methodical storm, and Drake, the chaotic riddle. Together, they create an aura of unpredictability and dread, using mind games, psychological warfare, and ruthless efficiency to dismantle their opponents. Whether through cryptic warnings or eerie silence, their presence alone is enough to unnerve even the toughest of adversaries.With madness and method entwined, the only certainty in facing the Dissonant Forces... is destruction.

The Tempest and The Sphinx

The Game Begins

The Sphinx

The Silent Tempest Is Ready

The Sphinx Is Ready

Tag Team Chaos Two

Tag Team Chaos

Picture Base Description: He has dark, sea-green tattoos running across his chest and arms, patterns reminiscent of waves and aquatic creatures. His hair is long and slick, a mix of black and teal, often wet or slicked back, evoking the image of a sea creature emerging from the depths. His eyes are a piercing, unnatural shade of sea-blue, giving him a cold, predatory look. A dark scar runs down his neck, an unspoken mark of betrayal and battle from his days in his lost kingdom. Orphius' attire is dark, with heavy, oceanic-inspired elements. He wears a long, black trench coat with silver, metallic designs across the shoulders and chest, resembling sea armor or the armor of a fallen king. His gear consists of tight-fitting black leather pants and knee-high boots adorned with sharp, oceanic symbols. On his left hand, he wears a silver gauntlet shaped like a claw—an homage to his heritage. He often enters the ring with his back turned to the audience, his head slightly lowered, only to turn slowly to reveal his face—cold and expressionless. Ring Name: Orphius Marius Real Name: Orphius Marius Disposition/Alignment: Orphius’ alignment is ambiguous. He walks the fine line between anti-hero and villain. While he despises humanity, his goals are not entirely selfish. His vengeance is driven by a deep sense of justice and the desire to restore balance, even if his methods are ruthless. The audience might find themselves sympathizing with his motives, understanding his hatred for humanity, but they will also fear the devastating way in which he enacts his revenge. He doesn’t care about being liked—he wants respect, fear, and acknowledgment of his power. But does that make him a hero or villain? His alignment remains uncertain, depending on the situation, his actions, and the way the audience perceives him. Hometown: Forgotten Depths Of The Sea Gender: Androgynous Height: 6 foot 4 Weight: 240 lbs Age: 24 Birthdate: 6 January Favorite Match: Last Man Standing Least Favorite Match: Tag Team Matches Favorite Weapon(s): Trident. Fighting Styles: Hard Hitting Brawler/ Technical. Methodical Similar to Wrestler: Gunther Gimmick Description: Orphius is a atlantean warrior with endless fury for the humans he refers to as surface dwellers. His motivations are twofold, succeed at any cost, and remind those he fights of the perils of provoking the oceans wrath. Orphius Marius is a complex figure. His hatred for humanity propels him into the wrestling ring, seeking not only destruction but a twisted form of justice. Ambiguous in his methods and motivations, he forces the audience to question who the real monster is—Orphius, or the very people he's fighting against. Entrance Theme Song YouTube Link: https://youtu.be/SzYh-wADfWA Entrance Description: The entrance begins in complete silence. Then, a low rumble starts to build—like thunder heard underwater—culminating in a sudden crescendo as Orphius steps into the spotlight. The lighting flickers like lightning, and his movement toward the ring is purposeful, like the calm preceding a storm. Basic Moves: Meteora. Dropkick. Palm Strike. Neckbreaker. Springboard Moonsault. Signature Moves: The Kraken’s Clutch – A modified cobra clutch, symbolizing the kraken's grip. Titan’s Wrath – A devastating chokeslam symbolizing ancient Atlantean power. Stormbreaker Spinebuster – A spinebuster with an earth-shattering impact. Poseidon’s Spear – A high-impact spear, "driving like a tidal wave." The Leviathan Driver – A sit-out tombstone piledriver that leaves opponents broken, as if crushed by a mythical beast. Maelstrom’s End – A spinning F-5 that whirls the opponent like a whirlpool before sending them crashing down. King’s Banishment (Signature move): A cornered opponent is lifted into the air in a vertical suplex position, only to be dropped viciously to the mat with Orphius' knees landing square into the opponent’s chest. Oceans Wrath: A lightning-fast spear where Orphius charges his opponent with the intensity of a crashing wave, knocking them to the ground with devastating speed. Finishing Moves: Tidal Wave Orphius lifts his opponent into a devastating reverse suplex, crashing them down into a spinal impact with an added twisting motion, mimicking the force of a tidal wave slamming down on the victim. Abyssal Lock (Submission Finisher): Orphius locks his opponent into a modified kneebar, holding it with unnatural strength. He twists his opponent’s body as though pulling them into the depths, increasing the pressure and strain until they tap out or pass out. Attribute Stats: 50 Total Available Points Strength: 5 Speed: 6 Agility: 6 High Flying: 4 Brawling: 5 Technical: 6 Intelligence: 8 Stamina: 9 Brief Biography: Orphius Marius hails from the forgotten depths of the sea, where the oceans’ wrath fuels his hatred toward the surface world. Born of an ancient bloodline of warriors, he was once the heir to a lost kingdom beneath the waves. After watching humanity's greed destroy his homeland, Orphius is consumed by a singular purpose: revenge. He emerges from the abyss to punish the humans who desecrated his world. Fueled by an unquenchable thirst for vengeance and justice for his fallen people, Orphius has stepped into the world of professional wrestling, not only to gain fame but to destroy the hearts of the audience—humans he despises—by any means necessary. His rise in the wrestling world mirrors his journey for dominance, his rage driving him through every opponent, every championship match. Orphius sees wrestling as the ultimate stage to showcase his power and contempt for humanity. The ring, to him, is a battleground not only for titles but for retribution. Each match, each brutal move, is a step toward restoring his lost kingdom beneath the waves and punishing the reckless world above for its sins. He believes that humans deserve no peace until they acknowledge the wreckage they've wrought. Through wrestling, he seeks to claim the world's respect while crushing human dignity beneath his boot. He doesn’t wrestle for fame, accolades, or money—he wrestles for vengeance. Orphius combines the brutality of power wrestling with the agility of a brawler. His style is calculated and deliberate, often making his opponents suffer slowly before finishing them off in a show of dominance. His movements are methodical, like the flow of the ocean—relentless and unyielding. When he’s in control, he uses his opponent’s body as a vessel of punishment, delivering moves with precise violence, often targeting joints and the spine. Orphius was once the heir to an ancient, oceanic kingdom hidden beneath the waves—a civilization steeped in power and mysticism, said to harness the ocean’s raw energy. As the crown prince, Orphius embodied the might and grace of his people, destined to rule with strength and wisdom. He was beloved by his subjects and feared by his enemies, a figure of both beauty and terror, much like the sea itself. However, Orphius’s world was shattered by betrayal. A trusted ally turned against him, orchestrating his downfall. The coup was swift and devastating, leaving Orphius grievously wounded—his neck slashed in the ambush and his kingdom stolen. Cast out and left to die, he was swallowed by the ocean’s depths. Instead of perishing, Orphius was saved—though at a great cost. The ocean itself, recognizing him as its rightful son, bound him to its will. Emerging from the depths with his body altered and his soul hardened, Orphius became something more than mortal. His strength, agility, and endurance were amplified, his body a reflection of the ocean’s might. The silver gauntlet he wears is said to be forged from the remains of a sea beast that once guarded his kingdom’s vault, symbolizing both his heritage and his newfound purpose. The scar running down his neck remains as a haunting reminder of the betrayal that nearly ended him. Orphius walks the land with one goal: reclaim what was taken from him. But the path is not simple. His kingdom’s betrayer, now ruling in his stead, has spread propaganda painting Orphius as a villain, a figure of chaos and destruction. Wherever he goes, Orphius is met with fear, suspicion, and opposition. Though his ultimate goal is vengeance, Orphius is not a mindless monster. Beneath his cold and calculated exterior lies a man deeply wounded by loss. He occasionally shows fleeting moments of vulnerability, especially when confronted with symbols or remnants of his former life. His androgynous beauty and icy demeanor make him an enigma, a figure who challenges preconceived notions of masculinity and power. Cold and Calculated: Orphius rarely shows emotion, and when he does, it is fleeting—like a ripple on still water. His calm exterior masks a seething rage that fuels his every move. Androgynous Aura: His features blur traditional lines, and his confidence in his appearance makes him a striking figure. He is unapologetically himself, radiating mystique. Driven by Vengeance: While he has moments of compassion, Orphius’s primary motivation is reclaiming his kingdom and taking his revenge. Reluctant Protector: Despite his focus on vengeance, Orphius cannot ignore those in need, especially if their plight mirrors his own. This makes him a reluctant hero in some cases, though he never lingers to receive gratitude. Mysterious and Poetic: Orphius often speaks in riddles or with poetic undertones, reflecting the fluidity of his oceanic theme. His words carry weight, often leaving others unnerved or inspired. The name highlights Orphius as a force of nature—unpredictable, calm before unleashing devastating chaos. "The Silent Tempest" suggests he is an embodiment of quiet power, striking suddenly and leaving destruction in his wake. It implies discipline and control, but with an underlying threat of overwhelming fury. Personality: As "The Silent Tempest," Orphius speaks sparingly but carries a commanding presence. When he does speak, his words are deliberate and sharp, carrying the weight of the storm he represents. His actions in the ring would reflect calculated aggression, exploding into bursts of ferocity at opportune moments.

A dimly lit arena, the air thick with tension as the lights flicker in an eerie rhythm. The camera pans to the titantron, where a flickering image of The Sphinx appears. His grin stretches across the screen, one that is unsettling and manic, like a predator ready to pounce. The lights around the arena go dark, and a solitary spotlight shines on him in the ring, his silhouette a chaotic mess of shadows. The crowd is buzzing with unease, sensing something unpredictable is coming. ‘The Sphinx’ Drake Nygma: His voice low, dripping with madness Ahhh... Laughter bubbles up, soft at first, then escalating into a full-blown maniacal cackle... They think they know chaos, but I, my dear sweet friends, am its symphony. The Sphinx twirls a small object in his hand, a puzzle piece perhaps, his eyes glinting wildly as he takes a step forward, shaking his head as if coming out of a trance. ‘The Sphinx’ Drake Nygma:Let me tell you something about THE AWS ROSTER. Oh, how delightfully... predictable. You all think you know what’s coming, don’t you? You don’t. You’ve heard the whispers, the rumors. You’ve seen the carnage I've left in my wake... but trust me, you’ve seen nothing yet. Nothing! He chuckles, tilting his head like a bird of prey eyeing its next meal. ‘The Sphinx’ Drake Nygma: :Daron Smythe... Daron, Daron, Daron. So confident in your bland, vanilla perfection. You think your “perfect” little matches make you something special? But here's the thing, Smythe, you're as exciting as stale bread in a world that's starving for spice! You're so predictable, it makes me want to yawn. Dull... so dull that my mind is screaming, begging for something to... snap... to break in this bland little universe of yours. But you’re safe. For now. The Sphinx claps slowly, sarcastically, as if applauding the nothingness of Daron Smythe’s existence. ‘The Sphinx’ Drake Nygma:And then there’s Jamal Payne. Ohhhh, Jamal, you loudmouth. You think you're the king of the ring, don’t you? You run your mouth like a broken record, spewing your bravado into the air, and yet you... you can’t even back it up when the lights shine brightest. I’ve seen better performances from a puppet... and you, Payne, are the stringless marionette. You make noise, but no one listens. Oh wait, maybe it’s because I don't care what you have to say! I make the chaos, and you... you just survive it. The Sphinx gives an exaggerated sigh, as if he's bored, his eyes flashing with manic intensity. ‘The Sphinx’ Drake Nygma :Ah, Xander Croft... Mr. "I’ll fight anyone, anywhere, anytime." You’ve got a reputation, don’t you? Everyone talks about you like you’re some kind of untouchable god. But here's the kicker, Croft... I’m going to knock that smirk off your face and leave you scrambling for answers you won’t find. You thought you were prepared for The Sphinx, huh? Well, I'm not chaos... I'm a living example of chaos. And I don’t care how many belts you’ve got around your waist—when it’s all over, I’ll be the one you’ll remember. The Sphinx's smile turns almost feral as he speaks, his words cutting like knives through the air. ‘The Sphinx’ Drake Nygma:Ah, and Ethan Murphy... the golden boy. You think you’ve got everything figured out. You think you're invincible with your pretty little packages of skill and charm. But I see through your facade, Murphy. I see the cracks in your perfect armor, the doubt that eats at you like termites on wood. You’re a walking, talking disaster waiting to happen. And guess what? I'm the match that’ll light the fire, and you'll be left watching as it all crumbles. I’ll make sure of that. The Sphinx steps forward, his face twisting with an insane gleam. He raises his hands, as if summoning something dark, before lowering them in a dramatic pause. ‘The Sphinx’ Drake Nygma :Mark my words, AWS, mark them well. This place isn’t safe. I am the storm, and the storm doesn't ask for permission. And when it hits, everyone... Everyone will know what true chaos feels like. He lets out a deranged laugh, loud and jarring, like the crackling of a thousand storms colliding at once. ‘The Sphinx’ Drake Nygma :Daron, Jamal, Xander, Ethan... you think you’re ready? Think again. I’m not here to entertain. I’m not here to play nice. I’m here to ruin everything. And when it’s all over, when the lights burn out and the dust settles, you’ll remember me as the one who taught you that chaos has no rules... only consequences. The Sphinx drops the mic with a clank that echoes through the arena, and as he steps back into the shadows, the crowd is left stunned in silence, their unease palpable. The Sphinx's voice echoes, fading into the dark: The game’s just begun...

A Sphinx Cinematic Production Part One A darkened arena. The lights flash in a kaleidoscope of colors, casting eerie shadows as a solitary spotlight falls on a figure standing in the center of the ring. The crowd murmurs in anticipation, knowing full well that they are about to witness a storm of madness. The camera zooms in to reveal ‘The Sphinx’ Drake Nygma, his wild, manic eyes locked onto the camera. He’s dressed in his signature attire—a mix of dark leather, green and purple accents, and intricate symbols, almost as if he’s the harbinger of chaos itself. His lips curl into a twisted grin. ‘The Sphinx’ Drake Nygma : “Ahhh... can you feel it? The tension... the electricity in the air... the delicious taste of impending destruction!” He circles the ring, pacing like a lion in a cage. ‘The Sphinx’ Drake Nygma: “For too long, for YEARS, I have lurked in the shadows, watching... waiting. The world? Oh, it’s a beautifully flawed puzzle—one I’ve been piecing together, one chaotic twist at a time! And now, it’s time to unleash it, my friends! Time for you to witness the culmination of a lifetime of... brilliance.” He stops abruptly, staring into the camera as his voice drops into a whisper. ‘The Sphinx’ Drake Nygma: “And what a puzzle it is… A puzzle with one missing piece: Daron Smythe.” The crowd erupts into a mixture of boos and cheers. Drake’s grin widens, savouring every moment of it. ‘The Sphinx’ Drake Nygma: “Ahh, Daron. My beloved, beloved rival. You—YOU—have been the cornerstone of my madness, haven't you? The perfect adversary for a mind like mine. I’ve spent years dissecting you, your every move, your every breath... studying you like a patient under the blade of a surgeon!” He steps closer to the camera, his eyes now burning with intensity. ‘The Sphinx’ Drake Nygma: “But now? Now I’ve climbed the ladder. I’ve cracked the code. I am the #1 contender for your precious AWS Elite Championship... and when that moment comes, when we finally face off, chaos will reign, Daron. You thought you could keep the game under your control. You thought you had it all figured out. But you? You’re the pawn... and I? I am the mastermind pulling the strings!” Drake throws his head back in a manic laugh, eyes wide as he basks in the madness of it all. ‘The Sphinx’ Drake Nygma: “I know you, Daron. I know what you’ll try to do. You’ll try to stand tall, to show the world that you’re the true champion, that you are the beacon of strength and order. But I? I am the storm that will tear through your precious world! The order you cling to so desperately... I will twist it. Bend it. Break it. Until you beg for mercy.” His tone shifts. It becomes colder, more calculated. ‘The Sphinx’ Drake Nygma: “You see, I don’t need honor, Daron. I don’t need respect. All I need... all I’ve ever needed... is the satisfaction of watching your world crumble around you. And when I finally get my hands on that title—YOUR title—I will hold it not as a symbol of victory, but as a mark of chaos. Because in the end... I always get what I want.” Drake steps closer to the camera again, his voice soft but venomous. ‘The Sphinx’ Drake Nygma: “And what I want... is to ruin you. But until the moment of your ruin, I’ll do what I do best, namely I’ll have my very unique version of fun. Oh the fun I’ll have…. Just wait and see.” He pauses, his eyes gleaming with unbridled insanity. ‘The Sphinx’ Drake Nygma: “So, Daron... when the time comes, remember this: You might be the champion now, but soon... you’ll be the puzzle piece I didn’t need. And when I claim my destiny... nothing will ever be the same.” He laughs again, his voice echoing through the arena as the lights flicker. The camera slowly zooms out, leaving the chaotic, unsettling figure of The Sphinx standing tall, eyes burning with the certainty of impending destruction. ‘The Sphinx’ Drake Nygma: “Let chaos reign, my dear... Let chaos reign.” Part Two The arena is alive with electricity, the anticipation palpable in the air. The camera flicks to a dark corner of the backstage area, where ‘The Sphinx’ Drake Nygma stands alone. His face, painted with the manic grin of a lunatic, is framed by flickering fluorescent lights. He slowly spins around, arms outstretched as if embracing the madness of the world. His voice—no longer just intense—has taken on a crazed, almost gleeful tone. ‘The Sphinx’ Drake Nygma : “Oh, this is rich... this is too rich!” He stops spinning, eyes wide and unblinking, staring directly into the camera as if it’s the only thing that matters in this chaotic universe. ‘The Sphinx’ Drake Nygma: “Daron Smythe…” He tilts his head, as though considering the name for the first time. ‘The Sphinx’ Drake Nygma: “What a quaint little puppet you are. Oh, how delightful! You thought the puzzle was complete, didn’t you? You thought that just because you managed to place the last piece of your perfect little kingdom together that you were untouchable!” Drake starts to pace, his movements slow and deliberate, like a predator circling its prey. ‘The Sphinx’ Drake Nygma: “But, darling Daron, the joke’s on you! The puzzle... was never about you! Oh no! You—you are just a piece of the comedy I’m writing! A piece of the greatest show on Earth!” He pauses dramatically, the grin on his face widening as his voice drops into a whisper. ‘The Sphinx’ Drake Nygma: “And I am the star. The mastermind.” He lets out a high-pitched laugh, a sound that seems almost psychotic. The camera zooms in on his face—his eyes now fully dilated, insane, burning with a feverish intensity. ‘The Sphinx’ Drake Nygma: “You see, Daron... I’m not just here to defeat you. Oh no. No, no, no!” He dramatically stretches out the word “no” and then suddenly, with frightening speed, he steps closer to the camera, his expression feral. ‘The Sphinx’ Drake Nygma: “I’m here to break you.” He grins, a twisted, unnerving smile that stretches unnaturally wide. ‘The Sphinx’ Drake Nygma:“Think of it like a game, Daron. A lovely little game where the rules change at my whim, and no matter how hard you fight... you’ll always be playing my game. Oh, you might win a few rounds—get a few cheap shots in—but in the end, the punchline is always the same.” He begins to pace again, slowly this time, dragging his fingers along the cold steel of the backstage walls. ‘The Sphinx’ Drake Nygma: “You’ll laugh with me, Daron. Oh yes. You’ll laugh, because when you finally understand the joke... it will be too late. When the lights shine on me, when I stand there, arms raised in glory, holding that championship above your broken body... you'll realize.” He stops pacing and turns abruptly to face the camera, his expression now solemn—eerily calm. ‘The Sphinx’ Drake Nygma: “You were never the hero of this story.” He breaks into another manic laugh, this one colder, more dangerous. ‘The Sphinx’ Drake Nygma: “No, no, no... You were just the punchline.” His voice grows louder as his theatrics heighten. ‘The Sphinx’ Drake Nygma: “And I—oh, I am going to relish it. I’ll revel in it. The sweet, sweet sound of you gasping for breath, your title slipping through your fingers, and your smug little grin—all turned into nothing. All turned into dust in my hands!” His eyes narrow, his expression twisting with dark delight. ‘The Sphinx’ Drake Nygma: “And you’ll wonder... oh, you’ll wonder for the rest of your life—how did I miss the signs? How did I not see it coming? But by then, Daron, it won’t matter. You’ll be a laughingstock. Just another memory of a man who once thought he could control chaos.” He crouches low, his voice dropping to a whispered, sinister tone. ‘The Sphinx’ Drake Nygma: “Because chaos isn’t something you can control, Daron. It’s something you become. It’s something you embrace with a smile.” He stands back up slowly, his eyes burning with an unsettling intensity. A final, unsettling laugh escapes him. ‘The Sphinx ’Drake Nygma: “And when I take that title from you... I’ll have the last laugh.” Drake pauses, looks into the camera with that same, manic grin. ‘The Sphinx’ Drake Nygma: “Tick-tock, Daron. Tick-tock.” With that, Drake spins around once more, his chaotic energy overwhelming the screen. The camera fades to black as his laugh echoes into the void. Part ThreeA dimly lit room in the arena. The camera zooms in on ‘The Sphinx’ Drake Nygma, standing alone in front of a full-length mirror. He’s dressed in his ring gear, his face half-shadowed, a twisted, almost poetic expression on his face. He takes a slow, deliberate step forward, eyes locked on his reflection. ‘The Sphinx’ Drake Nygma “Do you see it?” He leans in closer to the mirror, his breath shallow, as if he's talking to the reflection of his own soul. ‘The Sphinx’ Drake Nygma: “Do you see the symmetry? The beautiful, cruel symmetry of it all?” He pulls away from the mirror with a sharp, manic laugh. ‘The Sphinx’ Drake Nygma: “It’s funny, isn’t it? How things come full circle. Oh, Daron, you think you’ve beaten me. You think that the moment you took the AWS Heavyweight Championship from me, you somehow climbed the ladder of destiny. But what you didn’t realize, my dear, is that you didn’t just steal my title…” He pauses, voice low, almost purring with a sick sense of satisfaction. ‘The Sphinx’ Drake Nygma: “You stole my future.” He takes a step back, pacing slowly as his grin grows wider, crazier. ‘The Sphinx’ Drake Nygma: “But that’s okay, Daron. Because what goes around... comes around.” Drake holds out his arms as though embracing the universe itself, his voice turning increasingly theatrical. ‘The Sphinx’ Drake Nygma: “You see, the game isn’t about who wins—it’s about the how. And oh, how I’m going to do this. You think you’ve got it all figured out, don’t you? You took my AWS Asylum Heavyweight Championship, believing that was the pinnacle of your little career. And That it was the ultimate statement.” He starts pacing again, his voice rising with intensity. ‘The Sphinx’ Drake Nygma: “But what you don’t understand, Daron, is that this isn’t about titles—no, no. This is about something much more... poetic.” Drake stops abruptly, his eyes widening with manic clarity. ‘The Sphinx’ Drake Nygma: “This is about symmetry.” He turns back to the mirror, staring into his own eyes as if trying to unravel the chaotic web of his thoughts. ‘The Sphinx’ Drake Nygma: “You took the AWS Asylum Heavyweight Championship from me... and that’s fine, Daron. That’s fine. Because now I am going to take the AWS Elite Championship from you. In the exact same way. You took something precious from me, and now I’m going to take something precious from you.” Drake’s voice becomes eerily calm, almost chilling in its precision. ‘The Sphinx’ Drake Nygma: “A perfect reflection. A perfect reversal. You took from me, and now... I take from you.” He steps closer to the camera, his eyes gleaming with unsettling anticipation. ‘The Sphinx’ Drake Nygma: “When the time comes, when I stand over you, elation will fill me—not just because I’ve taken your precious championship... oh no... but because I will have taken it in such a beautifully symmetrical way. I’ll watch the despair creep across your face as you realize: you were never the victor. You were never the champion.” Drake’s lips curl into a wicked, eerie grin. ‘The Sphinx’ Drake Nygma: “You’re just a pawn in my game of chaos.” He leans forward, staring deeply into the camera as if speaking directly to Daron himself. ‘The Sphinx’ Drake Nygma: “And when I hold that Elite Championship in my hands, Daron... you will understand what I mean. You’ll understand the beauty of the chaos. The unavoidable symmetry.” He steps back and throws his head back, laughing maniacally, before suddenly stopping, his face becoming unnervingly calm. ‘The Sphinx’ Drake Nygma: “You took the AWS Heavyweight Championship from me... now I take your legacy.” He pauses for a moment, savoring the weight of the words before speaking one final time. ‘The Sphinx’ Drake Nygma: “Oh, how perfectly... poetic.” He leans in close, whispering in the camera, his voice dripping with malevolent glee. ‘The Sphinx’ Drake Nygma: “Tick-tock, Daron. Tick-tock.” With one last, maddening laugh, the camera fades to black, leaving only the echoes of his insane cackling in the air. Part Four The scene shifts to a cross legged version of The Sphinx now sitting in what appears to be a circus tent, the perfect backdrop to his unique brand of insanity. The perfect backdrop to the fun being planned, this circus tent is in a way a representation of the inner workings of the mind of The Sphinx. Chaotic. Without order. Completely unpredictable. His mind, his energy spinning in directions that no one can predict. Presently his chaotic energy was locked on his newly granted opponent ‘The Don’ Brandon Hendrix. His grin widened as he looked over the amassed boxes before him, boxes filled with jack in the boxes who all were programmed to laugh maniacally upon being opened. The kicker? These boxes were being sent to the entire AWS roster. ‘The Sphinx’ Drake Nygma: “Fly my pretties, begin your journey, give the gift of laughter to the entire AWS roster.” The boxes began their journey, programmed with specific coordinates, Drake’s ability to plan ever present despite the insanity that lived inside his mind. An ability to plan that only increased the sense of danger all around him. There was an unsettling aura about The Sphinx, an aura that spoke of chaos, of an unhinged intensity, his mental energies focused upon bringing AWS down all around him. ‘The Sphinx’ Drake Nygma: his voice drops to a whisper, so soft that it's almost inaudible. “Brandon Hendrix. You are the next target to wander into the eternal and everlasting maze of The Sphinx.” Eerie and unhinged laughter rises as a series of voiceovers of The Sphinx begin to play to end the promo. The screen is pitch black. A faint chuckle echoes before a gravelly, manic voice begins. Dim green and purple lights flicker, illuminating only fleeting glimpses of The Sphinx’s eerie leather jacket and a painted face obscured in the shadows. ‘The Sphinx’ Drake Nygma: "Power… oh, it’s such a fragile little toy, isn’t it? One moment, you’re holding it high, parading it around like a prized possession… the next, it’s crumbling in your hands, slipping through your fingers like sand." He exhales a soft laugh, the sound unhinged and mocking. ‘The Sphinx’ Drake Nygma: "Tell me, ‘Don’… when the crown grows too heavy, what will you do? Will you cling to it with desperation, or will you let it fall, crushing the hollow kingdom you’ve built under its weight?" His voice suddenly sharpens, cutting through the air like a blade. ‘The Sphinx’ Drake Nygma: "Monday night, I’ll show the world that your kingdom is built on lies. And me? I’m not here to rule. I’m here to ruin." A loud, distorted laugh rings out as the screen cuts to static. A chessboard is illuminated, pieces scattered chaotically. The camera zooms in on a green-gloved hand, lazily flicking a king off the board. The voice of The Sphinx crackles to life, oozing with smug derision. ‘The Sphinx’ Drake Nygma: "The game, dear ‘Don,’ is far more than mere muscle and might. You see, it’s not about how many pawns you have… or how strong your knights are. It’s about the mind behind the moves, the one who sees the ending before the first piece even falls." The Sphinx’s painted face slowly emerges into view, shadowed and grinning like a hyena. ‘The Sphinx’ Drake Nygma: "And here’s the kicker, Brandon: you’ve already lost. Because while you’ve been playing checkers, I’ve been rewriting the rules of chess. Monday night, the board gets flipped… and I break you piece by piece." He slams a fist on the chessboard, scattering the pieces as the screen cuts to black. A haunting laugh echoes into silence. A darkened theater. A single spotlight illuminates a stage where The Sphinx sits on a throne made of jagged steel, his purple and green attire glinting under the light. A faint, melancholic piano melody plays in the background. ‘The Sphinx’ Drake Nygma: "Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, gather ‘round for the performance of a lifetime! In one corner, the mighty ‘Don’—oh, such bravado, such swagger. And in the other? Yours truly, the madman with a penchant for chaos." He stands, his posture loose and unpredictable, like a marionette with cut strings. ‘The Sphinx’ Drake Nygma: "But this isn’t just a fight, no… it’s a tragedy. A tale of hubris, of a man who dared to believe he was untouchable. Spoiler alert: the hero doesn’t walk out unscathed." He steps closer to the camera, his face inches from the lens, a sinister grin splitting his face. ‘The Sphinx’ Drake Nygma: "So, Brandon… take a bow while you still can. Because when the curtain falls, all that’ll be left is silence… and me, standing over what’s left of your broken empire." He tilts his head back, letting out a bone-chilling laugh as the piano music crescendos and abruptly cuts off. A smoky, dimly lit room. The Sphinx’s silhouette looms large, the flickering of green and purple lights casting unsettling shadows on the walls. He tosses a coin into the air, catching it with a deft movement. His voice is low, hypnotic. ‘The Sphinx’ Drake Nygma: "Riddle me this, ‘Don’… what’s stronger than steel, faster than lightning, and more dangerous than a man with nothing to lose?" He flips the coin again, the sound echoing unnaturally loud. ‘The Sphinx’ Drake Nygma: "The answer? It’s me. And Monday night, you’ll see why questions are more terrifying than answers. Because no matter how many guns you bring, no matter how much ‘muscle’ you flex…" He steps into the light, his leather glinting menacingly. ‘The Sphinx’ Drake Nygma: "You can’t hit what you can’t understand. See you in the ring, Brandon. And remember… chaos always wins." The coin flips once more, this time caught by the camera as the scene cuts to black with a loud metallic clang. A chaotic montage of past victories and brutal assaults by The Sphinx. The footage glitches and distorts, overlaid with his maniacal laughter. His voice cuts through the cacophony, sinister and unhinged. ‘The Sphinx’ Drake Nygma: "Oh, Brandon, the laughs we’ll have! You’ll fight, you’ll bleed, you’ll fall… and I’ll laugh. Not because I hate you, no… but because I love this game. This dance of destruction. This… beautiful madness." The footage abruptly cuts to The Sphinx’s face, twisted into a malevolent grin. ‘The Sphinx’ Drake Nygma: "You may call yourself ‘The Don,’ but Monday night, I call you mine. And when the bell tolls, the last laugh will be mine too." The screen flashes a jagged green question mark before cutting to black, leaving only his distorted laughter behind.

Cool cool, I can give you guys a link to HRW.

UOW, HRW, WSX, AOD

I do RP elsewhere.

A Sphinx Cinematic Production Part One: This is a game and a game I love to play Whispers of wintry wind rolled out over the scenery, the wind caressing every facet of the landscape. From the mountains to the babbling stream to the dew covered grass, no aspect of the landscape went untouched. The Sphinx had lived long enough to have seen many winters, many summers, bore witness to the changing of the seasons. It was cyclical and routine, a pattern he could easily follow. The nature of his mind had lent itself to a masterful understanding of patterns, even before he had become The Sphinx. His organized mind had been rather useful in his previous career, a roguish entity who had worked as an engineer by day and a thief by night. So proficient as a thief, The Sphinx had once robbed three banks in a single night. He’d done so with a heist crew, no more than four men. In an unexpected move following the heist he’d not kept the money, he’d distributed it amongst the city, for he had little use for something as pedestrian as money. No, he collected payment in a far more rare form. In the form of secrets. His mind was like a quiet storm, intense and unyielding. His thoughts were all encompassing, a mind that was always active. The kind of activity that was born from an inability to sleep for long, the perfect amount of sleep was four hours a night. Four hours in which his mind experienced a pale imitation of peace. The Sphinx: “In the hours of wakefulness I sit awake watching the sky change from dark to light, a measurable indicator of the passage of time. I find the change in the sky so very interesting. Much of this world is a mystery to me. Speaking of mysteries, I am a mystery to myself most of the time. Make of that what you will.” The words he spoke so freely were those of a man at ease with the chaos he brought with him everywhere he went. The flipside of that ease was that his mind spun in ways that he knew to be neurodivergent. Neurodivergence displayed in his inability to stay still, in his impulsive and chaotic nature. Sometimes his thoughts got too loud, the world itself too bright. Sensations like sight, sound, touch, smell could and did sometimes overwhelm his mind, overwhelm his senses. And yet no one had picked up on this, had missed the indicators that revealed that despite all his attempts to blend in, he wasn’t able to keep the mask up forever which in turn led to the chaos that he wrought in his waking hours. The Sphinx could feel his hands clenching and unclenching at his side, the clenching a telltale sign that his mask was dropping, the energy he’d used to appear relatively neurotypical had taken a toll. Unknown to most The Sphinx had been researching social interactions from others, learned social cues from media, monitored his own facial expressions and body language, researched social norms, practised appearing interested or relaxed, adjusted his vocal tone to match other peoples vocal patterns. The consequence of this was when his mask dropped, he became prone to intense bouts of rage, the violence he performed in those moments a thing of vicious beauty. The dark voice of The Sphinx rang out low and rasping, an audible frustration present as he spoke. The Sphinx: “I’m so angry. All the TIME!. Even in the small moments. Even when I paint a smile upon my lips I’m still angry. For countless years I’ve been mocked for being too emotional, too weird, too much to handle.” The Sphinx paused, his expression holding the echoes of countless centuries of emotional repression, all that fury bubbling to the surface as his sleeping volcano of a temper had awoken. The Sphinx: “From the moment I woke up, I learned early on that this world is largely unaccepting of those who don’t fit into societal norms. That if you don’t act in neurotypical ways, you’ll be mocked, you’ll be shown scorn. From the person on the street calling you a creep when you stim, to your own family refusing to see that you aren’t being rude, you are doing what you need to in order to feel comfortable…” Another pause as The Sphinx’s eyes darkened, filled with rage. The Sphinx: “It doesn’t matter which mask we wear…. Which face we appear as, the rage is always there, tossing and turning beneath the surface…. Hungry and always ready to lash out in dramatic fashion.” Part Two: My Name Is The Sphinx THUD! THUD! THUD! Fists slammed like a percussive beat against the pale and tender skin of a 8 year old Drake Nygma. Fists that belonged to his father, the man who was supposed to protect him. And yet he hadn’t done that. No he’d been thoughtlessly cruel, mocking Drake for his emotional state, for his perceived vulnerability. Drake’s father voiceover: “Harden up. Be a man!. This is for your own good. This hurts me more than it hurts you. This will make you stronger in the end.” Drake’s father spoke in a low rasping voice thick with disdain, his voice like that of a serpent uncoiled looking at something it considered lesser than itself. Unknown to Drake’s father, those words had penetrated Drake’s mind, had triggered the first mental break, allowing The Sphinx to enfold Drake in his grasp. The Sphinx saw in Drake a mirror of himself, someone who was going to change everything as he grew into his power. Quietly The Sphinx was enraged by how a parent could abuse their own child under the guise of making them stronger. Like an unspoken promise Drake’s eyes turned a rich gold as The Sphinx took control, protecting a child who had known harm at the hands of one meant to protect. Drake’s father voiceover: “What the hell is wrong with your eyes boy? What are you?”A biting and harshly snapped out question was all he spoke seconds before he saw the true form of The Sphinx and in that moment he experienced a lifetime’s worth of aggression that was both belonging to Drake and not belonging to Drake. The Sphinx’s expression held no mercy nor warmth, only a coldly honed rage for this pathetic excuse for a ‘father’ and a ‘man’. The Sphinx: “Nothing is wrong with me father. I’m not the problem here. I am The Sphinx. I am the true face of judgement. You had a chance to be a proper father to your son, you failed him. Now you are worthless in our eyes.” The Sphinx’s hand turned ghostly as he snapped his fingers turning the ‘man’ that had been Drake’s father into dust, removing the threat once and for all. The Sphinx would always act to protect Drake, in many ways The Sphinx was Drake’s protector. Keeping him safe where others had failed to do so. The Sphinx Voiceover: “My name is The Sphinx. Let our name be a message to those who abuse their power, the monsters, the killers, the bad parents, the selfish and the cruel. We see everything that happens. We are eternal and as such nothing escapes our grasp. Not a single thing.” Part Three: The Sphinx’s Interview The arena is bathed in an eerie golden glow, with a spotlight illuminating the center of the ring where Drake Nygma—clad in his signature black and gold attire, with Egyptian hieroglyphs etched into his long coat—sits cross-legged on a golden throne. The crowd is a mixture of boos and nervous cheers as the enigmatic figure smirks, a microphone in hand. ‘The Sphinx’ Drake Nygma: "Ahhh... the noise, the chaos, the sweet symphony of ignorance." The Sphinx chuckled darkly, tilting his head like a predator observing his prey. ‘The Sphinx’ Drake Nygma: "You can chant their names, you can cheer for their flippy-dippy circus acts, but deep down, you know the truth: they are pretenders in a kingdom where I am the eternal Pharaoh." A pause as The Sphinx remains steady, his movements focused and precise. ‘The Sphinx’ Drake Nygma: "Ethan Murphy, the 'Golden Boy,' the pride of every soccer mom and armchair hero. Oh, Ethan, you are a shiny little coin in a world full of counterfeit bills, aren’t you? But you’re predictable. Always playing the ‘good guy.’ Always trying to ‘win it for the people.’ You see, I don’t need their approval. Their cheers, their adoration? It's as fleeting as the Nile’s tides. I play for something eternal—legacy.” Drake rises slowly, his gaze intense, his smirk widening into an unsettling grin. ‘The Sphinx’ Drake Nygma: "Then there’s TJ Alexander. The ‘Workhorse.’ The man who calls himself the future. TJ, I admire your hustle, your grit, your tenacity. Truly, I do. But a workhorse is still a beast of burden, carrying the dreams of others while the real kings—the Sphinxes—stand in eternal glory, unmoved by the passage of time or the struggles of lesser men." Drake walks to the ropes, leaning forward to address the camera directly. ‘The Sphinx’ Drake Nygma: "This triple threat match is more than a fight—it’s a reckoning. Ethan Murphy, your smile will crack when I tear your soul apart. TJ Alexander, your relentless drive will shatter when it slams into the immovable monument that is Drake Nygma. I am chaos personified, the shadow under the desert sun, the enigma you will never solve." He steps back to the center of the ring, spreading his arms wide as the spotlight grows brighter. ‘The Sphinx’ Drake Nygma: "You two can squabble over your fragile ambitions, but understand this: the #1 contendership for the AWS Elite Championship is not a prize you can earn. It is a destiny that chooses the worthy. And destiny, my friends, wears gold and black.” Drake stands center of the ring arms outstretched, laughing maniacally. ‘The Sphinx’ Drake Nygma: "You don’t have to like me. You don’t have to understand me. But you will fear me. Because when the dust settles, the sands of time will show one name carved into history: Drake Nygma—the Eternal Sphinx!” A hush fell over the crowd, the echoes of The Sphinx’s maniacal laughter ringing in the ears of all who had heard it. ‘The Sphinx’ Drake Nygma: "The sands shift, the winds howl, and yet here I stand—a monument to chaos. You see, monuments like me, we don’t crumble under pressure. We don’t falter under the weight of expectation. No, no, no… we thrive. And this little triangle of violence you call a triple threat? It's not a contest. It’s a stage. A stage where Ethan Murphy and TJ Alexander will learn the hard way that there’s a reason the Sphinx stands eternal." The Sphinx leans back on his throne, laughing softly as his eyes lock with the camera. ‘The Sphinx’ Drake Nygma: "Let’s start with you, Ethan Murphy—the Golden Boy. Tell me, Ethan, how does it feel knowing you’re walking into a slaughter? Because that’s what you are: a lamb wrapped in golden fleece. You prance out here, flashing that Colgate smile, talking about ‘honor’ and ‘fighting for the fans.’ But what happens when those cheers turn to screams? When their golden boy is brought down, not by the rules of the game you so desperately cling to, but by me, a man who doesn’t care about your rules or their love?" Drake stands, throwing off his coat to reveal hieroglyphs painted across his chest. He paces the ring, speaking with rising intensity. ‘The Sphinx’ Drake Nygma: "You want to be a hero, Ethan? Heroes die in the sandstorms. Legends are the ones who remain. And then there’s you, TJ Alexander—the so-called Workhorse of Wrestling. TJ, let me ask you something: what happens when the workhorse finally breaks? Because that’s what you are, aren’t you? A beast of burden carrying the weight of every promoter’s hype, every fan’s false hope. You’ve been galloping so hard for so long, but at Day Zero, the only thing you’ll carry is the bitter taste of defeat after I grind you into the dirt." Drake climbs the ropes, pointing out into the audience as his grin widens. ‘The Sphinx’ Drake Nygma: "You both talk about destiny, about how this match is your moment. Ethan, TJ, let me remind you of something: destiny doesn’t choose the weak. It doesn’t pick the ones who pander to the people. Destiny bows only to the strong. It kneels before the Sphinx. That’s me, boys. I am your reckoning, your nightmare, and your inevitable end." He jumps down from the ropes, crouching in the center of the ring like a predator about to strike, staring directly into the camera. ‘The Sphinx’ Drake Nygma: "Ethan, when you’re flat on your back, staring at the lights, I want you to remember this face—the face of the man who shattered your golden glow. And TJ, when your precious work ethic fails you, remember this voice—the voice of the enigma who broke your spirit. You will fight, you will struggle, and in the end, you will both fall. And when you do, the world will know that the only name worthy of the AWS Elite Championship is Drake Nygma, the Eternal Sphinx!” He laughs maniacally, throwing the mic down as golden pyro erupts from the stage. Drake walks away, his unsettling laughter echoing through the arena as the crowd buzzes with anticipation for the triple threat match.

A Sphinx Cinematic Production Part One: Chaos Is Our Vibe Shadows crept up the wall of the cell The Sphinx had returned to in the days following his loss, the days following his memorable clash with Ethan Murphy and Daron Smythe. Propped up in the corner sat a mannequin that looked exactly like Daron Smythe, a mannequin complete with a replica of the AWS heavyweight championship resting on its shoulder. In the opposite corner sat a mannequin that looked like a near flawless copy of Ethan Murphy right down to the confident grin on his face. Across from these mannequins sat The Sphinx now dressed in a black and white suit with splashes of red paint adorning the material of his suit. In his hand was a paintbrush. Before him sat a canvas on which he’d been painting these last few hours. It was a little known fact about The Sphinx that he painted as a form of creative expression outside the ring. Dollia watched from his back, wickedly amused by the artwork she saw on the canvas. Artwork she knew reflected the utter insanity and chaos of the mind that belonged to The Sphinx. Dollia Trypp: “Mr Sphinx, you’ve been painting in silence for three hours now. I think ‘Ethan’ and ‘Daron’ are getting lonely, you should talk to them. After all it would be rude to ignore our guests wouldn’t it?” Her words were filled with amusement, a sense of eerie chaos colouring her tone. The Sphinx turned and nodded, his expression alight with a savage gleam. The look in his eyes could only be described as maddening. Insanity was very clearly laid out astride his features, the kind of Insanity that was born of having nothing to lose. The kind of insanity born of walking the path to reclaim what was theirs. Theirs by virtue of sheer unrelenting effort, energy spent to retake a crown. A crown that would be the centerpiece of a chaotic maelstrom about to make landfall. The Sphinx: “Ignoring our guests would be the height of folly, the very height of rudeness. Where are my manners? My apologies ‘Ethan’ ‘Daron’ I’ll speak to you now. You see things have changed, ‘Ethan’ you are the former champion and ‘Daron’ you are the current champion. This is known, this is real. I may be insane but I can recognize reality when I see it.” The Sphinx took a pause here, rapping both ‘Ethan’ and ‘Daron’ on the nose as if to say you are a part of my game. A game that is being played on multiple stages, multiple fronts. Namely the physical and the mental. Both fronts on which The Sphinx excelled at playing on. The Sphinx: “Now I know what you are thinking. You must be thinking something along the lines of why is The Sphinx doing this, what drives him to act like this. Or perhaps you are most likely thinking, why did The Sphinx select me as part of his war, why am I a target of his chaos.” The Sphinx turned once more his face half cloaked in shadow, half able to be seen reflecting the duality of his nature. On one hand he could be a gentleman, following his own rules, on the other he could be violent, merciless, an entity who thrived on chaos and nightmares. This duality made The Sphinx an interesting case study. Part Two: Hugo’s Post Reindeer Games Evaluation A deafening silence filled the air as Hugo Strange strode into the cell that The Sphinx was presently sitting in. The cell had changed in a minimalist way since Hugo’s first visit ahead of reindeer games. Gone were the rats, the scrawled riddles too had vanished, cleaned by the hand of The Sphinx. In place of the riddles lay a series of question marks, painted a bright purple, the paint itself dripping down the wall. But this was not what caught Hugo’s attention, no what caught his attention was the guillotine set up in the center of the room. A gleaming and polished weapon used as a form of execution. Then his eyes swung to a replica of an electric chair used in various prisons around the world. A healthy shiver of intense fear travelled up his spine at the sight of these two very unique contraptions. Taking a shaky gulp of a breath Hugo began to speak, seeking to evaluate in what state of mind The Sphinx was in today. Hugo Strange: “Reindeer Games was an interesting experiment. It appears that Daron Smythe found a way to win. That being he pinned Ethan Murphy and not you. What will you do now.?” Hugo raised a brow, in an expressive gesture, clearly awaiting an answer to his question. For several moments an ominous silence swirled about, the silence building up to a crescendo, indicating that The Sphinx enjoyed playing up the drama of any moment that he found himself in. The Sphinx allowed the silence to continue for a few more minutes. His theatrical nature enjoying the drama, the showmanship that was simply a part of his nature, showmanship that was fostered by the impulsive and unhinged nature of his mind. The Sphinx: “What will I do now Doctor?. Every great mind has the ability to formulate a strategy. To craft a plan that has many facets. Ours is so delicious and oh so very wicked. It’s simple, I'll bring war to AWS. AWS is often referred to as the ‘Asylum’, a fitting descriptor as now I run the asylum. Management, superstars, fans,commentators it doesn’t matter who you are, I’ll take you all down. Every last one of you and when I do….” The Sphinx allowed his speech to trail off. Hugo Strange: “When you do, you’ll what?” a shrill and high pitched response, a quiver resonating in his speech, indicative of the most elemental and spine chilling fear. In his time as a doctor, Hugo had seen a great many insane souls but none had reached the level of insanity as presented by The Sphinx. The Sphinx pressed a finger to his lips in a sort of shushing gesture as if to imply that his actions would be done in secret. In a understated way, wherein he’d manipulate events to achieve his desired result. A whisper inside the mind of The Sphinx began, a whisper telling him of the great and monumental things he would achieve if only he controlled the narrative, a narrative in which he would play the role of villain or a more neutral role depending on what he needed in the moment. The Sphinx: “When I do, when I become champion again following the great war I have begun to plan, I’ll find allies, dark and tormented souls in need of a little direction. Souls that know the truth of chaos. Souls who have experienced cruelty at the hands of another and wish to even the playing field.” Snapping his fingers in a fluid motion the mannequins of ‘Ethan Murphy’ and ‘Daron Smythe’ now appeared in the electric chair and the guilllotine respectively. ‘Ethan Murphy’ sat in the replica of an electric chair. ‘Daron Smythe’ sat in the guillotine. The Sphinx: “Any final words gentlemen?” The Sphinx asked in a soft voice, a voice so soft that it could barely be heard. Pacing the cell The Sphinx watched ‘Ethan’ and “Daron’ with a amused expression, something about this situation had put a smile on his face, a unsettling smile of course but a smile nevertheless. The Sphinx: “Very well. Hold your tongues. It appears you’ll have no last words. How so very disappointing.” The Sphinx mused as the mannequins of ‘Ethan Murphy’ and “Daron Smythe’ were treated to the exquisite theatricality of the electric chair and the guillotine. The Sphinx allowed his eyes to cast downwards to rest upon the charred and blackened mannequin of ‘Ethan Murphy’ and then the headless mannequin of ‘Daron Smythe.” Leaning down The Sphinx lifted the replica of the AWS heavyweight championship into his hands, running his fingers over the texture of the belt itself. The gesture was oddly soothing to The Sphinx indicating that The Sphinx enjoyed the tactile nature of objects, of surfaces like championship belts, like weapons, no one had yet figured out why The Sphinx was so tactile. It was likely that no one ever would figure that out. Laying the championship belt to one side The Sphinx gestured to ‘Daron Smythe’ and mused in a overtly theatrical way, his words laced with his signature insane laughter. The Sphinx: “Boom! Now that’s a headline.” Hugo’s face came into view, his eyes widenened behind his glasses, a expression laden with shock and a healthy dose of fear was present astride his face. Behind him Dollia placed a hand on his shoulder and whispered to him, announcing her true name. Dollia Trypp: “My name is Echo. Memorize it well doctor. I am as mad, just as insane as The Sphinx. The difference between he and I is that I work quietly, unseen, supporting his plans, guiding his hand, the hand of chaos…. After all even a Sphinx needs someone to give his chaos direction.” Hugo gulped and nodded, his throat tight and clogged with elemental fear he spoke only a single phrase. Hugo Strange: “Memorize, remember the name of the mad woman aiding The Sphinx, remember her quiet madness that works from the shadows.” Dollia nodded, her serene face grinning like a skull as she guided Hugo to the cell’s exit whispering something in his ear that was meant for him alone, a whispered statement that had his heart racing, his panic building from that quietly whispered statement that she had spoken to him and to him alone. Part Three: A Portent Of Things To Come The Sphinx now sat astride a bright purple chair,splashes of red paint dripping down the side. At least he’d allow everyone to think it was red paint for the present moment. At his side sat Dollia astride a jade green chair of her own, her expression was adoring, oddly calm despite her growing madness as she looked up at the soul she called ‘Mr Sphinx’. Echo: “Mr Sphinx? What is it that we are we doing now? You have a look on your face that suggests you have something in mind. Tell me please?.” He placed a hand on her shoulder, a mimicry of a comforting gesture, one he’d learned how to do so very long ago. Something in his warped mind still wanted to care for another living soul even if only in a way that made sense to his warped and dangerous mind. This indicated that The Sphinx was capable of loyalty, of a degree of kindness to those he chose as his own. His chosen family you could say. The Sphinx: “My dear Echo, I always have a plan. You know that. The plan today is to offer the superstars, the management, the commentators, the fans of AWS a glimpse of what is to come, of what the future may hold should they choose to take up arms against me. In essence I wish to make it clear that every action and inaction has consequences. This way they cannot say they were not warned.” Echo’s lips split into a smile as she understood what The Sphinx was implying, she could understand his need to show everyone a glimpse into a future that would become reality based on the actions each of them would inevitably choose to take. Echo: “I know you always have a plan. This is to be your warning shot. Your indication of intent to start a chaotic war.” Echo mused, her voice a silken whisper laced with her usual brand of eerie laughter. A series of screens rose from the walls, each one playing but a single video accompanied by words that spoke to The Sphinx’s intentions. On the first screen a video played of The Sphinx winning the apocalypse chamber, his face spattered with blood, an eerie grin astride his face. This video was of a match from months ago, a match in which he had claimed victory. A match in which his former human half of Drake Nygma had chosen to let The Sphinx handle. The following words flashed along the screen ‘This war we're fighting it's not just writing’ On the second screen a video of The Sphinx's first encounter with Daron Smythe. It was at Throwdown 2. That match had ended in a double countout, therefore the match had been declared a draw. This was just the start of a reawakened rivalry, a rivalry that would soon come to encompass the lives and careers of both men. Flashing along the screen came the words ‘Awakened from this never-ending fight’ On the third and final screen played a video of The Sphinx’s AWS Asylum Heavyweight Championship victory at Saturday Night Throwdown Three. That match had been a triple threat that also included Ethan Murphy. In the end after a back and forth battle The Sphinx had claimed the AWS Asylum Heavyweight Championship. That had been the start of his reign, a momentary glimpse of the dark future that awaited the entirety of AWS. Then a single phrase flashed along the screen. ‘This is your last warning, a courtesy call’ Shaking his head The Sphinx began to speak as the three screens shut down, letting silence reign for a few moments. The Sphinx: “Some people have no manners. You're all prisoners. What you call insanity, it's just a prison in your mind that stops you from seeing that you're just tiny little cogs in a giant absurd machine. I’m more than a man. I’m an idea, a philosophy. And I will live on in the shadows within AWS’S discontent. You’ll be seeing me soon. Au revoir. There’s nothing more contagious than laughter. I’m an artist. I just want to paint the town crazy. Good ol’ heroes. Always playing by the rules. That’s why I’ll outlive you. That’s why I’m loved, ’cause I don’t give a damn about the rules. in the darkness, there are no rules. So, tonight AWS, do what you want. Kill who you want. And when morning comes, you too shall be reborn. The greatest villains have always been defined by the men that try to stop them. The promo came to an end as the words ‘WAKE UP AWS! EMBRACE CHAOS!” flashed along the screen accompanied by the laughter of both Echo and The Sphinx. The laughter, the videos, the words spoken were all a portent of what was to come.

A Sphinx Cinematic Production Part One: All The World's A Stage “All The world's a stage, with everyone playing their assigned roles. Some play the role of hero, some play the role of hero, some just want to see the world burn and watch what rises from the ashes”-Words spoken by The Sphinx 48 hours before Monday Night Ward. The scene switched to reveal the delightfully insane visage of The Sphinx. Today The Sphinx had donned a bright purple suit, his eyes glinting with something that could only be described as brilliant insanity. A natural consequence of this insanity, sharpened The Sphinx’s mind. His mind had sharpened so much that now his intellect had become far more piercing, far more lethal. Lethal in the way that only the truly insane could be. Silence. That was what greeted the series of cameras all pointed at various locations around the structure, a structure that resembled a cage of a different sort. Unlike the previous cage he had been in, this one was more modern, technological devices lay in plain sight as did a curved wicked looking staff, a staff that he created by his own hand. The Sphinx: “Good evening ladies and gentlemen, It is I your masterful harbinger of chaos. Chaos is such a wonderful thing, a thing that exposes the truth that everyone attempts to hide. What you see now, who you see now is my true face. The Sphinx is who I always was. Drake Nygma was just a shell, a cover for the truth.” His lips curved up into a malevolent smirk, his teeth white and strong all standing out between his lips. The energies he possessed had now evolved into a singular and highly concentrated lethal strength. The mental energy was like a battering ram as it smashed up against the warm emotional mind of his manager Dollia Trypp. Dollia could see the energy rolling off of The Sphinx in waves, energy that kept on rising in a steady stream, determined and resolute. Her slender frame was wrapped in a robe, a white flowing cloth robe to be precise. Dollia Trypp: “Sphinx I come to you with news, a twist of fate that now offers up a brand new challenger in the form of ‘The Don’ Brandon Hendrix, who is reputed to have a heart defect.” Her words danced through the air, a soft feathery warmth brushing up against the coldly calculating crazed nature of The Sphinx. The contrast between Dollia and her client became far more noticeable as time went on. She was warm, emotional, and knew the nuances of dealing with those who lived for emotions He is cunning, elusive and slippery like a snake. His nature, his true nature had risen to the fore due to his presence here in AWS, in a way AWS was bringing out the chaos that he enjoyed so very much. The Sphinx: “A new player has joined the game. How fun. We love it when new players join the game. Brandon! Do come and take a seat at the table, at our table. We welcome new players, we welcome new elements amidst the chaos. You think losing the championship has made me weak? No. It's quite the opposite. Now we are going to unleash even more carnage than we had previously.” Dollia’s features shifted for but a moment, her lips forming a uniquely crazed smile, her empathic face now bearing the hallmarks of something more like The Sphinx, as if his insanity had bled over into her, altering her mind, warping her perception, as she too evolved into a new version of Dollia, the true version of Dollia. Dollia Trypp: Mr Sphinx, the stage is set. AWS awaits the start of the show. Monday Night Ward is the beginning of a new era. An era where I will assist in ruling by your side, under my true name of Echo. Dollia is a mask, a mask I wear to lure people in, make them think they are safe as you shatter them completely.” His expression was unnervingly composed, devoid of any visible emotion in the present moment. The Sphinx: “The stage is set. Monday Night Ward is another chance to remind the AWS roster of the reality of the world that they live in. Brandon Hendrix mark down Monday Night Ward in the calendar as the day you come face to face with The Sphinx. The man you fought before was a test, a test that my former human half Drake Nygma posed. Now you will meet me, my true face, driven by chaos and masterful insanity. The only things that remain the same are my strategic mind and penchant for brutality.” A delightful burst of bright and insane laughter from Dollia and The Sphinx both split the air. Part Two: And So It Begins The Sphinx sat astride a single ornate and chaotically painted purple and green chair, a chair that he himself had painted. A chair whose colour scheme represented the uniquely insane nature of his mind. A mind who had no plausible equal except for that of Dollia Trypp. Dollia who had a sense of empathy now laced with her own brand of insanity, insanity inspired by that of The Sphinx. This made her dangerous, as someone who walked in the world of emotion and now as someone who could just as easily display an innate sense of understanding of the minds of crazed individuals, just like The Sphinx and now just like herself. Dollia Tryp: “Mr Sphinx, you stand on the precipice of great feats, day by day,hour by hour, you are remaking AWS into a venue worthy of who you are. They don’t see it yet, but soon they will, soon they will all come to see that everything they hold dear is meaningless in the face of chaos.” Evolution. A word used to describe the natural development of events, of a soul. In the case of The Sphinx, evolution meant accepting his madness, accepting his darkness and turning it into a weapon to wield. And so he would wield his darkness, as his story truly began. The Sphinx: “Daron Smythe we have not forgotten about you. Not in the slightest. While Reindeer Games was the start of the destruction of the rebuild, our grand design is still in play. The Labyrinth, the maze shall be built atop the bones of AWS as it is now. I’ll take all that you dream of and turn it into a nightmare. A nightmare none of you will ever wake up from.” Dollia stood at The Sphinx’s side their maddening laughter rising up into the air as a image of AWS collapsing around them flashed onto the screen, the bodies of Ethan Murphy, Daron Smythe, Vin Halsted, TJ Alexander and so many more played out on screen as if revealing an event that would come to pass, namely the roster of AWS being broken, shattered and left for dead in the wreckage of AWS. Dollia Trypp: “Mr Sphinx and I are the king and queen of AWS, one might say that we are cleaning house, redesigning, rebuilding and reclaiming. You don’t fear The Sphinx yet, but you will soon. You will come to see that a lack of fear is another symptom of man’s arrogance. This arrogance won’t save you. Nothing can save you now. You are in The Sphinx’s world now.” The Sphinx would say nothing else as the camera switched itself off as chaotic laughter bubbled upwards stronger than before. Part Three: AWS Falls…. The Sphinx Rises….. The camera panned out to reveal the lithely muscled form of The Sphinx now dressed in a elegant black and white suit, his face painted white, an impassive and unhinged smile could be seen as the camera zoomed in on his expression. Over his right shoulder lay a replica of the AWS heavyweight championship, a symbol of his cunning, of his masterful strategic plan that had brought him gold. A plan that he executed flawlessly. Had done so despite the fact that everyone believed they and they alone could end his plans in short order. An ideal now seen as laughable. The Sphinx knew he had told them they’d lose, he’d been clear about that from the moment he began to speak. Arrogance. Humans were so very arrogant. The Sphinx had a theory that arrogance was in their nature. That they couldn’t help but think themselves untouchable. Thus it was a reality that they all needed to be reminded of the reality they lived in, his reality of course. The Sphinx: “Vin Halsted. Let's start with you. You’ve built yourself a persona around believing that you are somehow unstoppable. That you are somehow better than everyone else. A nice dream you have there. A dream that will come crashing down when I choose to make it happen. The Sphinx will show you the truth of who you are, and will make you see that everything you’ve told yourself is a lie.” The Sphinx: “And now to address the potential of Brandon Hendrix. You call yourself ‘The Don’. We do have to wonder why, delusions of grandeur? A possible connection to the Mafia? Or maybe you just thought it was a cool name.” A momentary pause as The Sphinx shrugged and prepared to speak again. The Sphinx: “Next we have TJ Alexander, a wonderfully gifted athlete, someone we’ve lost to in the past. TJ is an interesting case, he’d make a unique ally, perhaps one day in the future. His in ring ability fascinates us. Makes us wonder just how far he’ll go to win, what lines he won’t cross. Soon we’ll unravel those answers.” Another pause as The Sphinx’s features grew sharper, more chaotic as he began to speak again, addressing the man who was fast becoming his lifelong enemy and rival Daron Smythe. The Sphinx: “Daron Smythe. We saved you for last. We have so much to say about you, let's dive in shall we?. I’ve seen your most recent interview, it was rather illuminating in our perspective.” The Sphinx tapped a button which began playing a series of voiceovers from Daron Smythe’s latest interview. DARON SMYTHE VOICEOVER: “You call yourself the riddle no one can solve. But riddles, Drake, are just puzzles with answers waiting to be found. You’ve spent years — centuries, if your delusions are to be believed — locked in cages of your own making. Scribbling riddles on the walls, whispering to rats, convincing yourself that chaos is freedom. But all you’ve really done is chain yourself to madness.” DARON:SMYTHE VOICEOVER “You say freedom is a lie. That we’re all prisoners of one kind or another. Maybe you’re right. Maybe we are trapped. Trapped by expectations, by fate, by our own damn fears. But unlike you, I don’t embrace the cage. I break out of it. I don’t scratch riddles into the walls and call it a masterpiece. I tear those walls down.” DARON SMYTHE VOICEOVER: “Drake, you’ve convinced yourself that AWS is your playground. That we’re all just pieces on your twisted chessboard. You talk about Reindeer Games being the start of your endgame, the beginning of some grand, chaotic spectacle. But let me remind you of something: This isn’t your show. This isn’t your story. This is my time.” DARON SMYTHE VOICEOVER: "That’s where your delusion gets the better of you. You believe that you’re the puppet master pulling strings, that the rest of us are just mindless pawns caught in your elaborate game. But puppets don’t have a heartbeat, and pawns don’t fight back. I’m not a piece on your chessboard — I’m the damn wrecking ball coming to tear it apart. Reindeer Games isn’t your curtain call; it’s the night your illusion shatters. You’ve spent so long building this fantasy world where you control the chaos, but I’m here to remind you that chaos doesn’t discriminate. It doesn’t favor the one who thinks he controls it. And when the bell rings, all your riddles, all your schemes, and all your grand designs will crumble under the weight of reality. This isn’t a spectacle for you to direct. This is a battleground where only the strongest, the smartest, and the most relentless survive — and that’s me. This is my moment, my legacy, and my championship to claim." DARON SMYTHE VOICEOVER: “You see, Drake, time is a funny thing. It doesn’t care about your riddles or your chaos. It doesn’t care how long you’ve been trapped in your own mind. Time just keeps moving forward. And right now, it’s counting down to the moment I kick your teeth in and take that Asylum Heavyweight Championship off your cold, painted shoulders.” The Sphinx moves to stand before a clock frozen at 11.59. One minute to midnight. Doom approaches in the form of The Sphinx. DARON SMYTHE VOICEOVER: “You see this? One minute to midnight. That’s where we are, Drake. That’s where we are, Ethan. The final minute before everything changes. Before the bell rings and the world sees who really deserves to call themselves the Asylum Heavyweight Champion.” DARON SMYTHE VOICEOVER: “Drake, you said we might be destined to do this forever. That you represent chaos and I’m your foil, carving out my own legacy. Maybe you’re right. Maybe we are locked in some eternal struggle, two forces destined to clash over and over again.” DARON SMYTHE VOICEOVER: “But here’s the thing about destiny — it doesn’t mean a damn thing if you don’t have the guts to fight for it. And I’m ready to fight. I’m ready to do whatever it takes to make sure that when the dust settles, it’s my hand raised, my name in the history books, and that championship belt around my waist.” DARON:SMYTHE VOICEOVER “I’m sure it sounds like a broken record to everyone because I repeat it so often but it is my destiny to be World Champion. People get sick of hearing it, but look at what has happened? Two-time and current UWL World Champion, HRW World Champion, ECWF Triple Crown Winner, future MAINSTREAM Wrestling Television Champion, and now? A shot at the Asylum Heavyweight Champion. Destiny seems so cliche but if it isn’t destiny, what keeps putting me here? I learned a long time ago that when opportunity calls, you listen. DARON SMYTHE VOICEOVER: “At Reindeer Games, the clock strikes midnight. The chaos ends. The past fades. And the future — my future — begins.” DARON SMYTHE VOICEOVER: “This is where I typically say my destiny is to be world champion and the only variable is time, but…“Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Time’s up.” The Sphinx taps the button again bringing the voiceovers to an end as he begins to speak addressing Daron directly. The Sphinx: “You’ve had a lot to say, you certainly allowed your words to flow forth like so much water. Or perhaps you simply have verbal Diarrhoea. This is a plausible theory all things considered. Everything you’ve said won’t change what's going to pass. Listen well Daron, we can either be bonded by friendship or hate. CHOOSE ONE!” His voice now filled with rage, his vocal cords vibrating with his chaotic brand of aggression, a series of voiceovers featuring The Sphinx began to play to end the promo. THE SPHINX VOICEOVER: “I'm the answer to your life's question! Without me, you're just a joke... without a punchline.” THE SPHINX VOICEOVER: “Hello, Daron. I imagine you're wondering, why is The Sphinx doing this? Someone I knew long ago once said, All it takes is one bad day to reduce the sanest man alive to lunacy." Like you I have had a series of events that gave me what I thought was the worst day of my life, but only by losing everything was I able to face what was inside me. And I believe I've seen something very special inside of you as well. But to free it, you'll have to lose everything and everyone you hold dear.” THE SPHINX VOICEOVER: “You are the brother I never had, the one Drake never could be. We will create a legacy in this company. AWS falls, we rise. Together. To truly build something, you must first tear down what is already there. There’s two types of every legacy, two versions of what we leave behind. There’s the good and then the bad. Make no mistake about it Daron, you and I shall embark on a journey together, our paths will continue to cross…. Forever”

The roar of crackling flames filled the air, the heat from the flames a wild and chaotic thing as the form of The Sphinx clad in an obsidian suit stood quietly for a moment, a deck of playing cards in his hands. Each card bore the face of a superstar or someone in management in AWS. The cards bore the majestic logo of The Sphinx, indicating that something far more significant was being planned. The Sphinx: “Daron Smythe. Ethan Murphy. Vin Halsted. TJ Alexander. Charlie Feigel. Mike Dimter. Derek Wellings. Ace Sky. Dark Matter. Xander Croft. These cards are a reminder that I’m not done with any of you yet.” The Sphinx paused as one by one he threw each playing card into the fire before making one final statement. The Sphinx: “In time I will see that each of you are burnt by the flames, that you are all removed from the chessboard. This I promise to you” The camera switched off as the words ‘The Sphinx shall see you all burned to ash’ appeared on the screen.

A whisper of wind cut across the brightly lit room in which The Sphinx sat. This room held two chairs and a table. On the opposite side of the table sat a well dressed middle aged man, a man who was presently wearing a stylish suit, the tag on his pocket indicating his position as doctor. Doctor: “It’s time for your weekly check in, how have we been today?” The Doctor asked, his voice laced with a sense of amusement and intrigue. The Sphinx’s expression was eerie, menacing, more than a little unhinged as he began to speak. The Sphinx: “We have been fine, this mortal world is strange. Lacking souls of substance. You would know all about being strange wouldn’t you Doctor?” Rich chaotic laughter whirled through the air, The Sphinx’s eyes glowing a mysterious enchanting colour. Strange shifted uncomfortably in his chair at that play on words. Doctor: “Your mind is fascinating, so full of chaos. To use an analogy I heard once it's like you are a dog chasing a car, you wouldn’t know what to do if you ever caught it. And yet I’ve noticed you’ve begun to feel more like The Sphinx of old, something about this company known as AWS seems to reach you, seems to speak to the ancient entity known as The Sphinx, this is growth.” A beat passed as silence held court, but only for a second or two. The Sphinx: “AWS feels like home, its madness matches mine. It’s crazy speaks to mine. A home in which I now reign as its champion. The AWS heavyweight championship a instrument I’ll use to create a new regime of chaos and darkness. My chaos and my darkness.” Strange nodded and murmured softly. Strange: “I’ll check in after Reindeer Games” The Sphinx burst out laughing, clapping his hands as the camera faded to black.

Asylum Tales #1

Darkness Comes For AWS

A Drake Nygma Cinematic Production. Part One: Darkness Unleashed Quiet was the day, the flickering of rich yellow lights was the only illumination that provided a glimpse of the eerily silent Drake Nygma, his face was inhumanly focused, the look in his eyes one that spoke of a hunger for violence. In many ways violence was The Sphinxes calling card, the way in which he identified himself. And yet that violence wasn’t mindless, wasn’t done without thought. No. Every action taken had immense thought behind it. His mind was sharp, feral like a wild animal snapping its chains in two. There was nothing on this earth that could bind The Sphinx, could stem the fury rising from the land of Egypt. The land that The Sphinx had been born in and thus called his home. His first home according to the scholars who knew precious little of The Sphinx’s rich history. And yet despite the ferocity with which he conducted himself there was a sense of honour, of integrity to how he presented himself. An integrity that became clear as he fought. The Sphinx knew all too well the consequences of descending into unregulated madness. After all, he had done so once before. And he still bore the mental scars from that period of his life. Thinking back on his past the phrase “You're like something feral, you've got their scent in your nose and all you want is blood!” echoed inside his skull, the phrase one that had been spoken by a young woman in her mid twenties, some law enforcement official in some capacity some years back. The Sphinx could clearly envision the young woman as he had known her, all bright blue eyes filled with intelligence, determination. Grit. He had liked her, thought of her as an ally. This was before he’d met Dollia, many years before Dollia had come into his life again. Fate seemed to have chosen to give The Sphinx with allies, a variety of people from all walks of life. Allies beyond price, allies who sought to foster some semblance of light within The Sphinx, to make him something more than the merciless hunter, vigilant soldier he had been born to be. None of these allies however could completely erase his darker instincts. Such was the path The Sphinx would walk. His course had been set. Now it was time to start hunting. Rumour had it that if you crossed one of The Sphinxes lines he’d find you. Over time his name became mythical, a warning to those who took advantage of others. The Sphinx wasn’t out to fix everything, no his goal was much simpler, much more elemental. Justice. Vengeance. Punishment. Retribution. There were many words for what he did, some nicer than others. Some more visceral, grittier, darker, speaking to something vengeful inside The Sphinx’s mind. Unlike most vengeance seekers, The Sphinx loathed guns, preferring knives as his weapon of choice. Knives were elegant, efficient, and reliable weapon. Efficiency was key as far as The Sphinx was concerned. Drake Nygma was the other side of the coin, the rational side that complemented The Sphinx’s brutality, his darkness a thing of legend, a trait deeply entrenched in who he was. Kindness was something he rarely showed, a luxury he did not often show. No what he needed to be was a symbol, a reminder that if you broke his laws, broke his rules, you’d pay for it. The Sphinx: “Focus. Steel your mind. Let me take over. Let me make a statement forged in blood. They may have forgotten, allowed themselves to be deceived, to reframe their history to make themselves look heroic. You know the truth, how their legacy is built on a past filled with vile deeds, the uprooting of a section of people from their homeland. Their ancestral lands.” The Sphinxes' features turned in disgust, feral as he knew exactly what had happened, how lands had been stolen, people uprooted from their homes. Even those not directly involved in those events still celebrated a holiday, as if they had chosen to ignore the origin of the holiday. The Sphinx would never forget. Never. He’d use his darkness to punish all who stood in his way, this darkness he’d use to drive home the maxim ‘There is no forgiveness for certain crimes.’ Part Two: Hunter Voiceover: “Mr. Nygma, we have not been formally introduced. My name is shrouded in eternal mystery. I have heard of the legend of the rogue assassin who follows the creed. The life you have led has been vast. Born of this very soil, Egypt. Its fog is absorbed in your skin. Its way of life, in your soul. It was here you found your calling. This calling drew you to a land where the sun rises on the earth. And in the steps of countless legends, you took to the skies and became a warrior, elevated above them all. Soon, a greater challenge awaited you on the shores of the west. One more continent to conquer. Yet here is where you had lost your course. The weapons you possess have been forsaken. Plagued by the crimes of a false patriot. Doubt clouds your mission. But, on this night, where your journey began, you must remember what made you, or all the paths you have travelled, all you have defeated, now more than ever before, seek the wisdom of our creed revealed in these words. We work in the dark to serve the light. We are hunters.” Just as the voice-over reached its conclusion the brightly shining lights of the mysterious abode The Sphinx called home came into view, a wide sweeping grand facility, obscured by a swirling mist, this home was something out of legend, unpredictable, unknowable, the chaos of The Sphinx was represented in every detail of this facility that had no name, no name easily spoken in English at least. Flashes of the past year burst behind the closed eyes of The Sphinx. The rivalries had started the year, the wins, the losses, the moments of triumph and defeat. The journey that began with his capturing the AWS Global Championship, the first symbol of his might. Then had come the Apocalypse Chamber, a night in which he’d proven himself as a slayer of monsters, a conqueror and a hunter. Only a few weeks later, at most a month had come the pinnacle of his rookie year, winning the AWS Asylum Heavyweight Championship in decisive fashion. Of course he couldn’t forget the enemies he’d made, the souls he hated above all else, some of whom had run away from AWS like the cowards he knew them to be. A quietly chilling smile tipped his lips as his brightly glowing eyes opened, the look of a hunter, readying himself for his next challenge. His features were rugged, his true form had more in common with the great apes than anything even remotely human. Like those apes he reveled in chaos, in brutality. This brutality fed into his not insignificant strength, a strength that made a hunter without peer, his mind was martial, focused on the fight in whatever form it appeared to take. No one had to know that for The Sphinx these fights had become personal, that he desired to wake the world up, remind them of all they had forgotten. Thanksgiving they called it….. A polite name for a day that had its origins in a darker time, a time that had not been pleasant at all, something The Sphinx refused to forget. Part Three: Closing Remarks Now The Sphinx sat in a brightly lit room, his expression tight, his jaw set in a hard line. The look in his eyes was grim, much more so than usual. This holiday held no positive memories for him. None. Instead it only served to make him angrier, make him colder, deadlier, his entire being bound so tight that he wanted to rage, wanted to bellow out his deeply held aggression more so on this day than any other. Sensing the innate and vengeful rage swirling in The Sphinxes veins Dollia began to speak on his behalf. In this moment Dollia would fulfil her role as his manager, using her words to convey what The Sphinx intended to do. Dollia Trypp: “Today is a day that my client considers an insult to all that he believes. The violence that happened on this day was senseless, without reason. Thus those who perpetrated such deeds have earned his ire. Those who celebrate the day, who have turned their back on its history are equally guilty, complicit by way of inactivity. By way of a failure to acknowledge the darker aspects of the day.” Dollia’s features held no small amount of anger, her expression as tight and intense as The Sphinxes was. Thus neither Dollia nor The Sphinx would allow this day to pass without making them remember how this day had started, how this holiday had come into being. The Sphinx leaned in and growled low and dark. The Sphinx: “We do not FORGIVE nor do we FORGET.” The promo came to an end as the sound of The Sphinxes' rage vibrated through the air, a tangible thing that further intensified his desire to punish humanity for their sins, of which there were many.

AWS Global Championship Singles Match View full promo

A Drake Nygma Cinematic Production Part One: No More Light Look at this tableau of shiny, bright and sparkling buildings, each one using an excess of energy. Look at how selfish they are, bathing in the warmth of so much lighting, so much heat and electricity. As if they and they alone have a right to be warm, to be ‘protected’ to be ‘loved.’ to be ‘safe’ inside their ivory towers, far from harm or so they foolishly believe. The grand deception their mind allows them to believe. That deception will only insulate their minds so far, and will only convince them of their safety for a brief time. When that time comes to an end, they’ll see how the lie they believed made them vulnerable, made them weak. In. Out. The exhalation of breath served as an instinctively performed gesture, the sensation of breath filing his lungs soothing the bone deep need for constant movement. Vigilance was his calling card, as was the inability to rest, the lack of rest awakening the ravenous hunger that was uncoiling in his veins, like a serpent coming back to life. Human history is filled with revisionist events, crafting themselves as the heroes. Twisting events, words, reality to make themselves appear heroic. In other words they’ve chosen to lie. The time for lies is over, no more will they be able to employ that cloak and dagger as they skulk around in the shadows, perpetrating selfish acts without even thinking about the consequences. That is what makes me different from them. Yes I’ve committed horrifying acts, I own this and make it clear that I know who I am. Do you know what I’ve learned from reading countless stories? From the studying of the so-called ‘literature’ written by human hands, those rare few souls who believe they and they alone can shine a light on all of human history, glossing over the events they wish to deny, wish to pretend never happened. I’ve learned that each of those stories are works of fiction, propaganda meant to entertain the smallest of us, the children. Gone are the days where the writers tell the truth, expose the darkness of human history. Gentle breaths drifted through the air. Puffs of smoke like mist danced lazily as though the breath had become sentient. A melodic voice layered with charisma, with a musical sounding accent began to speak, the narrator opting to reveal themselves in the present moment. The Sphinx: “So it seems fate has chosen to allow me this chance to speak again. To address the growing flaws present within the human race. I’ve watched for countless ages, seen how humanity has positioned themselves as the eminent race, the unquestioned ruler of this globe. It’s been truly adorable watching them all scramble about like ants, like the tiny creatures they truly are.” The Sphinx paused, sarcastic laughter pouring out from between his lips, laughter that sounded like a pale imitation of true and genuine laughter. The Sphinx: “Dollia tells me that there are worthy humans living on this planet. Humans of such fierce intellect, such immense strength that I should value them. That I should consider them worthy of admiration. To that I say where are these fiercely intellectual humans, where are these strong souls? I do not see anyone on my level at present. The closest I’ve had to a true challenge has been Daron Smythe.” The Sphinx shook his head, an amused smirk layered with savage glee shone at the memory of the man known as Daron Smythe, a man who had pushed him, who had given him a good fight, the very thing he craved above all else. I’ll extinguish that light. Make them see what it's like to live in a world without power, a world without mercy, a world in unending darkness, there will be no more light. This we promise you. Part Two: A matter of honour and respect The Sphinx gazed upon his newly captured AWS heavyweight championship, a physical reminder of what he’d just now accomplished. The belt itself was a prize secondary only to the effort he’d poured into winning it. This hunt had proven satisfying, in one night he’d conquered both Summer Rayne and Ethan Murphy. Conquered and not gotten rid of, they’d earned his respect in the midst of the match. His face was set in a tight and quietly intense expression. Pulse racing, the thrill of battle humming in his veins, The Sphinx began to speak in a gravelly tone layered with a new respect, a sense of honour present in his tone of voice. The Sphinx: “Summer Rayne. Ethan Murphy. Full credit to you both. You pushed us further than we even thought possible. You forced us to tap into more of our killer instinct, as a result our match was far more compelling than had been expected. The Sphinx sees and acknowledges you both as worthy foes.” The Sphinx took a pause here, his expression open and genuine. His sense of honour demanded that he acknowledge both Summer and Ethan as worthy foes. His sense of honour had been a part of who he was since his waking. An ancient thing that was growing less and less present in this modern world. The Sphinx: “You see this championship I now wield? It’s a symbol of our ancient might. A symbol of the mysterious capabilities of The Sphinx. You’ve now seen but a glimpse of what I can do. Of what we can do. There are very few lines we won’t cross to retain this title. In just one year, our debut year, we've won both the Global Championship and now the Asylum Heavyweight Championship. We have a question for all of you, all of you who doubted us. DO YOU DOUBT US NOW!” The Sphinx raised the Asylum heavyweight championship high, his expression beyond angry, his eyes narrow, his lips set in a darkening scowl, his thunderous voice shaking the air as his statement echoed through the air, his anger growing, a dark and feral thing that was animalistic in nature. Dollia appeared from the shadows, her expression soft as she gazed upon the enraged form of her client, a rage like this she hadn’t seen before. This rage would tell her that being doubted, being seen as a non threat had evoked a deep seated rage swirling deep inside the veins of The Sphinx. Pressing a hand to his shoulder she began to speak. Dollia Trypp: “Such intense and elemental anger you display. Is this anger coming from you or Drake? This being doubted seems wholly personal for you. It’s almost like a switch has been flipped, triggering a volcanic rage that had been bubbling up beneath the surface unseen for countless years. Tell me what you are thinking.” Her words were whisper soft as she looked at him awaiting a reply. Part Three: An anger that’s lived in our veins always There’s something about the holiday season that brings a smile to our face. Almost as though there’s a sense of hope about it. At least this is what Dollia tells us. Maybe she’s right, maybe she’s wrong. A hum of ominous energy crackled through the air as The Sphinx began to speak. The Sphinx: “The answer to that question is not as simple as coming from one or the other. This rage you see comes from both of us, these feelings are shared by both Drake and myself. I am ascendant. Yes, I am in control. I’m willing to do whatever it takes to win. To send a message. My fury, the fury I share with Drake Nygma is unpredictable like a sleeping beast, once provoked…. The results are catastrophic.” Dollia simply nodded, her expression soft and understanding, her empathy making her sensitive to the rage pulsating off The Sphinx. Dollia Trypp: “When will it ever be enough? When will you set your anger to the side? Will there come a time when you can let your anger fade away into the void? Tell me you’ll rid yourself of those dark emotions. Please.” The Sphinx shook his head, his eyes narrowed to pinpricks. The look in his eyes was an intense glimmer of lethal fury. A fury that came about as easy as breathing. The Sphinx: “Never. It will never be enough. I won’t ever set it to the side. You see, the truth is I hate this mortal world. I hate those who inhabit it. These dark emotions as you call them are what kept us strong, are what kept us forging ahead. These dark emotions allowed us to survive. Allowed to become strong. A strength that is like ice, solid and unbreakable. More than once throughout our lives we’ve been mocked, we’ve been treated as lesser, like we aren’t even worth consideration. And now we…. I…. we are born to the fight, for every breath, for every moment. It's in our blood, we can’t stop fighting.” Dollia had a quiet sympathetic look in her eyes, glimpses of times when The Sphinx had been mocked, when Drake had been mocked, when they had been laughed at, treated with scorn simply because they didn’t fit into the preconceived notions of what was considered ‘right’ or ‘acceptable.’ In other words she could see how they both had been mocked for their ‘neurodivergence, for how their mind operated in ways that didn’t fit into any socially acceptable ways. Behind her eyes she could see flickers of moments in time where they’d been dismissed and tossed aside, the loathing she felt made her heart race as she viewed the memories that had allowed The Sphinx’s aggression to rise. Dollia Trypp: “So you’ve been shown scorn before and that scorn awoke an anger older than this world. This is why you hate humanity, because they’ve hurt you both. A hurt that you both are determined to give to everyone else. An eye for an eye, this is what motivates you to act as you do.” A simple nod came from The Sphinx by way of an answer. The Sphinx: Correct. Your analytic skills are impressive. An eye for an eye is exactly what drives us. A need to punish everyone for the sins of a few. This is the justice we offer. I care none for the whining of selfish mortals, they brought this on themselves. This is karma, delivered by the hand of The Sphinx.” Dollia stood speechless, sympathetic and yet more than a little sad at how The Sphinx planned to punish everyone for the sins of a few. Deep down she knew that The Sphinx was using his anger, his icy impassivity to cover for how he’d been hurt over and over, a mask designed to showcase his terrifying strength, to showcase his desire to wreck everyone and leave them broken beneath his fist. Part Four: We all make our own monsters The Sphinx sat astride a hard backed chair, the Asylum Heavyweight Championship draped over his shoulder. His expression was void of emotion, an icy mask that betrayed nothing save the haunting anger that caused his jaw to tighten, the sharp angles of his jaw standing out even more than it had before. At his side stood Dollia, her expression soft a stark contrast to the utter fury that filled The Sphinx’s veins. The Sphinx: “We all create our own monsters. This world created me. This world brought me to life. Every action I do, every action I take is on your hands, the blood I spill, the bodies I break, it’s all on YOU!.” The Sphinx’s lips turned in a scowl, a cold gleam in his eyes. The Sphinx: “Drowsing, they take the noble attitude of a great sphinx, who, in a desert land, sleeps always, dreaming dreams that have no end.For I am I: ergo, the truth of myself; my own sphinx, conflict, chaos, vortex—asymmetric to all rhythms, oblique to all paths. I am the prism between black and white: mine own unison in duality.” A hum of ethereal energy surged through the air as The Sphinx spoke again. The Sphinx: “A vast silence reigned over the land. The land itself was desolation, lifeless, without movement, so lone and cold that the spirit of it was not even that of sadness. There was a hint in it of laughter, but of laughter more terrible than any sadness-a laughter that was mirthless as the smile of the Sphinx, a laughter cold as the frost and partaking of the grimness of infallibility. It was the masterful and incommunicable wisdom of eternity laughing at the futility of life and the effort of life. It was the Wild, the savage, frozen-hearted Northland Wild.” A gasp broke into the air as Dollia reacted instinctively, her senses picking up on the intensity of her client. The Sphinx: “The problem of Eternity, of which the face of the Sphinx speaks, takes us into the realm of the impossible. Even the problem of Time is simple in comparison with the problem of Eternity.I sit in the sky like a sphinx misunderstood; My heart of snow is wed to the whiteness of swans; I hate the movement that displaces the rigid lines, With lips untaught neither tears nor laughter do I know.” The Sphinx let a bright booming dangerous laugh free as a series of voiceovers began to play. DARON SMYTHE Voiceover: "Let’s start with Ethan Murphy. The guy’s hungry—when you’ve been at the top for 177 days, it’s hard to swallow being on the outside looking in. Ethan’s going to bring everything he has to get that title back, and I respect that. But respect doesn’t win matches. Then there’s Drake Nygma. Let me tell you something, Bryce—Drake Nygma might be the toughest opponent I’ve faced since I returned to this business. Tougher than Cory Chevelle. Tougher than Cyrus Rinaldi in the UWL. The guy’s a wildcard, unpredictable, dangerous. But I’ve beaten tough before, and I’ll do it again." DARON SMYTHE VOICEOVER: "Not at all. Whoever’s holding that title when the time comes, they’re going to learn the same thing Ace Sky did, the same thing Jayden Riley did, and the same thing everyone else who’s ever faced me learns—I’m the real deal. I’m not here to test the waters; I’m here to test myself against the best. Whether it’s Summer Rayne, Ethan Murphy, or Drake Nygma holding that gold, they’re going to find out why I’m not just #1 by name—I’m #1 by skill, by results, and by destiny." DARON SMYTHE VOICEOVER: "Simple, Bryce. People know talent when they see it. The fans know it, the wrestlers in that locker room know it, and the promoters sure as hell know it. I’m money. I’m box office. When you see Daron Smythe on the marquee, you know you’re getting the best in the business. And that’s why I keep getting these opportunities—because I deliver every single time." The Sphinx’s laughter rang out as he spoke one final time. The Sphinx: “You can make your cute little comments all you want, despite the respect I have for you both as competitors, you are out here making cute little speeches, I’m out here dropping nukes. Come Reindeer Games, you’ll come to see that The Sphinx is more than a moniker, is more than a gimmick. You’ll learn that The Sphinx is what happens when you push someone far enough that they become a monster to fight other monsters. Look into my eyes and you’ll see every flaw, every horrible action you’ve ever taken in your life. You’ll come face to face with every dark deed you’ve tried to hide.” The promo came to an end as the words ‘No more hiding, face the truth of who you are’ lingered on screen.