Forgiveness.
Personally, that's something that I've never actually had to experience. Could have something to do with the fact that I never really do anything wrong enough to need forgiveness. Everything that I do, I do for a reason. Everything that I've done has been the effect to someone else's cause. Almost every single decision that I've made in my life has come down to doing something because of something someone else did.
For the longest time, I didn't even know who I was. I've been everything from a spoiled trust fund brat to a megalomaniacal businessman with a ruthless streak as long as the Ariana Grande. I've made no actual mistakes in my time in the spotlight and all I've ever really wanted to do is prove myself.
That's when I discovered professional wrestling and sports entertainment would allow me to do just that.
While on the hunt for how I would integrate into this industry, I realized that I had nothing but good things to bring to the table. I was born a natural talent and my superior brilliance in strategy allowed me to take my place upon some of the pantheons of professional wrestling. Accolades doesn't even begin to describe the streak of victoriousness that I've amassed single-handedly. I brought my entire world to this industry. I've given more to this industry than I've ever given to anything or anyone else. And now, once again, I've been put into the position to stand on top of this mountain and lead you foolish mortals to the Promised Land yet again.
This time I'm not doing it alone.
You see, the Blind Faith Tournament has been exactly that for the majority of you. Two by two, my prestigious protege and I have dispatched favorite after favorite of these peons that don't exactly know what they want. These fickle fairweathers that only seem to exist in a space where they can watch genetically superior beings such as myself and Hayden absolutely destroy whatever stands in our way.
And that was before we added The Brit Wheel to the mix.
What we're about to do right now is take all that Blind Faith that you chumps have thrown your heart and souls into and walk away with this victory without breaking a sweat. Our combined skill and fortitude will absolutely put your entire world to shame as we crush it in the palm of our hands. Together, Remington Ivory Prescott and Hayden Isaac Monroe will stand tall and victorious over this selectively oppressive fandom that dares to sit there and judge us.
So, where has our confidence taken us? What has the newly christened Sovereign been tasked with defeating next in order to gain something far greater than the glory and admiration of a few dozen screaming nitwits crowded around their grandmother's television in the corner of the basement? What defeatable obstacle has been placed in the path of our telegraphed success?
Mercadier de Leon. Sawyer.
Or, as they are more commonly known, Pepe le Pew and Homelessberry Finn.
Let me tell you something right now about this tournament and about the fact that we're having to deal with the likes of these two. I think the faith has been taken out of it completely. I think after such a dominant display of Sovereign that the gods are simply flying Blind. To bring the collective talent of RIP and HIM to this proverbial knife fight is incredibly overkill. What the two of us have planned for these untamed mongrels is far beyond the scope of their little minds. But, as usual, I digress.
Pepe le Pew! The Conquistador, is it? Is that right? Let's start with you since you seem to be the Sword of Stankation around here. I'm not going to stand here and regurge your own past to you. You were there. You know what you've done. Also, I fell asleep trying to read the research packet my people drew up on you. Lots of stuff I've seen before but french style. Like poor people's fancy green beans. I'm aware that you probably think that your veteran status gives you a leg up on the superior competition of Sovereign but that's where you're likely to make your crucial mistake. While there's a whole country of regurgitated branding like you, there can only ever be one Remington Ivory Prescott and one Hayden Isaac Monroe.
On to something more bitterly familiar and more annoying than I even want to admit, good ol' Homelessberry Finn. A man that's been around the block more times than I care to count but yet seems to keep coming back for more. The eternal lone wolf seems to have found himself a partner and I think we all know how well that's going to turn out. You see, the thing about mangy mutts like Homelessberry Finn is that they turn on you. They wait for their chance and they bite the hand that feeds them. Which could, and looking at him, probably will cause all sorts of stagnant disease. Thankfully, though, the team of Sovereign is here to put this animal down before PCW finds itself in need of some serious rabies shots.
I know that I haven't been here long. I can see the way people look at me. I understand that despite my stellar track record of championship level success that people are going to want to gang up on the new guy. Everyone's rooting to see me fail. Everyone's waiting for Prescott to fuck up. Everyone's waiting to see if I can't hack it here in this land of mediocrity and despair.
But that's just not what I do. I don't fail. I do whatever it takes to walk away with what I want and there's nothing that a single person on this earth, or beyond, can do to stop me.
Or now? Stop us.
My name is Remington Ivory Prescott.
His name is Hayden Isaac Monroe.
We. Are. Sovereign.
... and you are?
Yesterday at 9:11 pm by 
Subject: A.C.R.O.N.Y.M. 
