"A Good Man Goes To War." — The Purge II.

WHALAN, MINNESOTA. — NOVEMBER 21st, 2021.

It all felt like a fever dream.

The past couple of weeks, even months, felt like a fever dream to Jason. It seemed like a heavy illusion on his mind, a distant memory that was coming back to him ever so slowly, but at the same time? All of it felt real. Every single bit of it felt real. The slashes against his wrist, the near drug overdose, the bruises and the beatings that he had taken? It felt real, but at the same time, it didn’t. Maybe he didn’t want to imagine them being real, to imagine them as just an illusion of his own past, something to make him feared, something to make him worried about his surroundings and those around him who he thought to be there to help him and to protect him. To keep him on edge any day of the week.

Jason had set up camp before The Purge within the Cyclin-Up Inn just north-west of Whalan, Minnesota. Of course, he used his time sparingly to observe and convey the surroundings that are around this small town. During his morning and evening walks, he’d spot at least one or two of the roster that had made their way into the town before The Purge commenced. Seeing the likes of Michael Bishop, Alyssa Grace, Skylar Ramsey, and much more that have roamed around the town to do their own investigative work on what to do and where to go. The room where Jason had spent his money to stay in was damp, it was dark, it was dull. Only one window that saw out through an entire street within Whalan. Just an open street with stores on both sides, very minimal cars driving up and down and only the locals — outside of those who’re soon to compete within The Purge — would walk through the street.

Inside of the room that Jason stayed in, there was an entire map that hung upon the wall of the entire town of Whalan. The map, clearly, has been drawn on with a multiple choice of colours. Jason has had his entire plan set out for the entire Purge. Where to go and where not to go. Areas where he could go for good loot and where it might seem the busiest. It was like playing in a real-life battle royal game, with the strategy playing through his mind as the days got closer and closer to the big event. Planning out a whole choice of actions ahead of him. A list of allies in the corner, and a list of enemies right beside it — and of course, True Society had made that list. But the question remained, could he have kept his place amongst the allies that he has made along the way? Could he have kept his place amongst those he has tried to help within the past couple of months?

The answer was simple — no.

The past couple of months have seen Jason Long cower in the shadows and allowed True Society to take over and take control of everything, even allowing them to take all of the championships on the brand. From Ascension, to Noble, to Prime, and to Legacy. And all because of Jason Long staying away and allowing them to roam freely. Since then, he constantly blamed himself. Since then, he constantly kept looking at himself like the main man to blame. And there’s been many times where he’s thought of just walking away and never coming back. Maybe it might have been for the better. Maybe it might have been the best for everyone else. It might allow True Society to end all of the suffering for everyone else.

Jason reached down underneath the bed and pulled out his suitcase, opening up the case and reaching underneath all of the clean clothes to find this mysterious box. It’s a box he’s recovered very recently from his past, something that he’s held onto since the day of his mother’s death and the day that his whole life changed for the supposed better, a small box that held onto a part of him that he never thought of bringing back — but with recent actions and everything else? It feels as if he has no other option but to choose to bring this part of Jason back. To bring back The Mercenary. To bring back the King of Immortality. To bring back The Maverick. It seemed to have been the only way for Jason to bounce back and fight against True Society and give them what they fucking deserved.

But out of nowhere and throwing him off was a loud knock on the door, which led to Jason throwing the box down onto the bed as he hid it underneath the pillow, trying to make sure nobody else knows about the box but him. This was his secret that he just wasn’t ready to tell anyone quite yet. Jason leaped off of the bed and headed towards the door. He expected to see someone noticeable behind the door. Michael Bishop, Alyssa Grace, Savannah Sunshine, ASHER — this list went on and on. But as he opened the door? The person that greeted him was an older woman in all black. Looking like staff for the inn.

The woman that stood on the opposite side of the door asked if he wanted room service, almost afraid of the scorned look from Jason as he looked down onto her. Jason didn’t even verbally respond to the woman, only shaking his head from side to side and then slowly closing the door behind him.

Jason sat back down onto the bed and began to think once again, his mind solely focused on one thing and one thing only. The Purge. He knew that this would be a war for the ages, a match where he could bounce back from and begin to claim his place back at the top of the kingdom — right where he belonged.


“It’s been a painful couple of months to say the least and that is no lie from what the truth is.

I — myself — have felt myself be put through my own personal hell with how things have been going and I’ll tell you one thing, it has not been fun at all. It’s not been fun being able to stand here and tell you about the pain and misfortune that I’ve had since Night of Honor. And now, to stand here — in front of this camera — with no championship to my name and no crown or throne to make myself stand out? This feels so much different than I had initially remembered it to have been. But I shouldn’t be one to dwell on the past, I shouldn’t continue to sing the sorrow of my failures, and as someone that used to reign as King? I shouldn’t be the one to talk about how I didn’t deserve any of this, I didn’t deserve to be in the position that I am in right now, and that’s what makes this so much painful to talk about. Because here’s the problem that people might not like to hear the truth about and it might not be the truth that people would want to know about., but I was robbed from my chance to become the Legacy Champion by being in the wrong place at the wrong time, and then I was robbed from my championship by some face-painted fucking cunt who was never belonging in the match to begin with and hell — he hasn’t even pinned me for the fucking title yet.

But I understand my place and this match— no, this Purge is the fight that I’ve needed since Night of Honor. This is the kind of fight I’ve needed since Bloodbath II. And if I have to fight for my life to make sure I take my place back at the top of the mountain, to make sure I keep my place at the throne, to make sure that I keep my place on the roster as the best of the best to have ever fucking do it. And this is where everyone has to suffer for the sins of others. There are some of you out there that don't deserve to be in this kind of fight, there are some of you that don't deserve to be in something so violent and murderous. People are going to be risking their damn fucking lives to make sure that they survive to the very end. People are going to scratch and claw to make sure that they either walk out with a championship, a shot at the championship, or even that universal briefcase that so many people have their eyes set on. But if there’s one thing that I am going to be setting my eyes on? It’s chaos. You see, for someone like me, I’m going into this match with nothing to lose and everything to gain and that’s a scary mindset to come head to head with because I’m sure that there’s so many people out there mentioning my name for a bit of clout and hoping that they’re going to be hurting my feelings like they expect to be—

But I couldn’t care less about wins or losses anymore, all that rests on my mind is violence and suffering. All that rests on my mind is making sure that everyone else suffers the same pain, the same feeling, and the same torture that I was put onto because I wanted to be the hero of this company and I almost died trying to be the fucking hero of this company. Some of y’all seemed to have fucking forgotten that and here’s the simple fucking reminder for you brain dead cunts.

For someone of the likes of Savannah Sunshine, the woman who was so tired of being used as a stepping stone and was walked all over, they couldn’t remember the amount of times I had done so much for them and yet — time after time again — they constantly fucked up and made me look like a damn embarrassment by just fucking assosiating with them. What do you expect from someone that allowed themselves to be put into that situation? Yeah, I understand, everyone thinks that we’d stand side by side but I know you better than anyone else. You’d throw me under the bus quicker than I could. Which makes you the threat. And let’s not forget what rests inside of you and what they have fucking done to me. I sure haven’t forgotten, Savannah.

Or maybe for the likes of Havoc, the man who claims to be this visionary leader that would bring people to order and hope that they build upon their own empire and rule the world one step at a time, which is crazy because when you think about your whole run-up through the third season of OWA? Remember? With the Ashes of The Wake? How much time and effort you put into running through an entire roster all to be defeated because everyone had gotten sick of your shit? I thought you were a demon who had the power to rule worlds and yet you’re the dick taker for an alopecia patient? Isn’t that just so fucking crazy that this powerful demon who stole the top title from someone by just being put into the match by their bald-headed daddy dom? Because it feels like it to me, lemme tell you.

Or how about someone like Michael Bishop. A man who has had much history with me than anyone else in this match — apart from Savannah — and someone that I have gone to fucking wars with. You wanna know what makes a man like Michael Bishop? Pure anger and hatred for everyone and everything surrounding him. Do you know how easy it is to take advantage of the situation against someone that’s hot-headed and low-tempered? The man screams of mild-autistic screeching whenever he gets on a camera and has to put on a performance so he can act like a fucking tough guy.

That’s three of the prime examples for someone entering this match. For pride, for leadership, for vengeance. But that’s not what I am here for. That’s not what I am here to compete for. The championship opportunities are gone and out of the fucking window. The pissant championships that Arik Holt has to offer for me that nobody truly gives that much of a shit about are thrown back into the fucking trashbin where they always have belonged. And the universal briefcase that grants me whatever the possible fuck I want is all but a distant memory of my past. I know what this kind of match brings to the table and it’s because I was in this same exact match last year — just underneath the mask so you couldn’t recognise me. I know the dangers of what this match could bring. I know what I need to do in order to fucking survive at all costs. And I will make sure that everyone that I drag through hell comes with me for the damn ride.

Starting with Valkyrie.

Then to Slade Castle.

Then to Syndicate.

Then to Havoc.

And then to Arik Holt.

You might think I’m fucking crazy, you might think I am some sort of fucking psychopath, and you might think I’ve lost my damn mind — but there’s only one goal in mind and that’s to kill True Society. There is only one goal in mind and that is to take them all down and then to take my place back down onto my throne where I have always fucking stood. You might run, you might hide, and hell, you might be protected for all there is. But at the end of the day, I will make sure all of you suffer. And I will make sure all of you rot in fucking hell for what you’ve done.

For those of you that also await for the siren to ring, then I can only say one thing. Expect the worst and hope for the best. The Purge is going to be where I come back and make damn sure that people remembered who the fuck I am. No more slander on my name. No more disrespect for who I have become as of late. No more looking over The King. I might not hold that moniker right now due to recent events but I’ll be damned if I don’t let myself be put back into that role. The throne will be mine. The crown will be mine. And this is the first step towards taking back what has always been rightfully mine.

Demons run, when a good man goes to war.
Night will fall and drown the sun, when a good man goes to war.
Friendship dies and true love lies.
Night will fall and the dark will rise—

When a good man goes to fucking war.”

WHALAN, MINNESOTA. — NOVEMBER 24st, 2021.

There was less than twelve hours left until the sirens would begin to blare throughout the town, locals within the town had now evacuated from their homes and now? All that was left were those who prepared themselves for The Purge. All that was left were those who prepared for the war that would come as the day turned to the night, all that was left was the hopefuls who thought of themselves to be winners of this Purge, all that was left were the many unbroken souls that were soon about to become the fallen men and women of Fallout. This was what Arik Holt wanted after all, hell, this was what Christian DeMarco wanted all of those months ago and now? The field feels like a murderland. A field left to be filled with the bodies of the Fallout roster. Jason found himself coming back from his evening walk and finding himself back into the room where he has stayed the past couple of nights within the inn. He knew time was running short on him. He knew that he wouldn’t have time to talk to either of those that he’d call his allies before the sirens would begin to sound.

Jason reached into the dresser beside his bed and pulled out a pen and paper, heading towards the desk where the window was right in front of and looked out towards the street. That empty street filled with nothing. All of the lights were soon to be gone and night was about to roll through quickly. He kept his head down and began to write for his first part of the letter.


Jason contemplated thinking if this small letter would’ve been enough for someone like Savannah — someone that he cared so much about but feeling less needed the more and more that the days go by — and then? It came down to his brother. Nathan O’Connor. After their recent scuffle, this was going to be something that’ll be hard to write. But he kept his head down and began to write, a few moments later he began to contemplate his own writing and began to scrap the pieces of paper, throwing them onto the floor. Jason took a deep breath and began to write one more time.


It wasn’t worded well as the emotion began to run through him but it was the best he could come up with without having to rip up the pages and restart all over again. The Purge has given him nightmares for countless days, and all he could think about was the million ways he could die within the next twenty-four hours. But after all, he had promises to keep. After all, he had promises to hold down. He had missions to accomplish and if he didn’t complete those missions? He’ll die being the loser that has always been. This wasn’t him trying to be the hero. This wasn’t him trying to save the brand and the company once again, he’s done saving everyone when he got nothing back for the hard work he put in, this was all for himself. The hunt for True Society was all for himself. Factions could align and could bond but Jason was done picking sides and this wasn’t his war to fight in. Not on the frontlines. Not on the battlefield. He’ll calculate and take his time. One by one, knocking them all down, and leaving them in the ground. No matter if it wasn’t all in one night, they’ll all suffer the same fate.

A fate far worse than death.