Broken Glass

In Promo by The Blue Shark

The Arcadian Censorship Authority.

The Blue Shark stands amidst the debris, distraught.

“Chaos. Destruction. Betrayal. This is what we’ve come to in Old School Wrestling. This place… once a symbol of order, now wreckage of our so-called civilization.”

The Blue Shark looks around the room, his gaze landing on a broken picture frame.

“Mr. Kleen, The Zookeeper, Narcissa… Their games, their secrets… They’ve played us all.”

His voice rises, echoing through the empty office.

“I’ve fought in the ring, I’ve brawled in the streets, but this… This is different. This ain’t about titles or glory. It’s about goddamned order in a world gone mad.”

He picks up a piece of broken glass, reflecting on it.

“This is what’s left of our integrity. Shattered, broken.”

The Blue Shark reflects in the broken glass, and as the Tidal Terror lifts his head, he’s no longer in the ACA headquarters.

He’s knelt in the middle of Olympus…

…of what used to be Olympus. His fingers grasp the reflective knife, smeared with blood.

“Blood’s all around me. The Uprising did this, slit the throats of the men at the top of the food chain. Like carrion, they ganged up on them and took ‘em down.”

Falling into a cross-legged sit, TBS tosses the knife away.

“That’s your whole thing, isn’t it Jasper? You and your Uprising cunt cakes, y’all just love to spill all the blood you can. Like a twisted artist painting a macabre masterpiece. That’s how you dominate, ain’t it?”

Grabbing a fistful of shredded canvas, the Shark seems euphoric.

“I watched as you slit the throats of Tombstone and Drewitt, leaving a trail of blood and terror in everyone’s heart.”


“But not mine. Cause the ocean don’t discriminate. In my world, there ain’t heroes or villains, no artists or their subjects. There is only the hunt and the inevitable end. Broken glass on an office floor.”

He laughs.

“I’ve heard you speak of art, of creating something beautiful from the pain and suffering of others. But what you fail to understand is that in my ocean, there is no beauty in death, only the cold, harsh reality of the hunt. Your art, your Uprising, it means nothing to me. I am not here to admire your work; I am here to end it.”

The Blue Shark turns his white uniform red with the dried blood.

“You’ve awakened the beast, and now you must face the consequences. The blood you spilled, it calls to me, a siren song of vengeance and retribution. I don’t care whose blood it is, whether it’s yours or the ones you’ve wronged. When The Blue Shark arrives, he brings death to all.”

Standing to his feet, the ring begins to fade around him.

“This ain’t a fight; this is a statement. This fucking ring is my fucking ocean.”

As suddenly as he appeared in the ring, The Blue Shark is now stood back in the ACA headquarters.

“You’ve painted your bloody broken glass, Jasper. Now it’s time for me to paint mine.“