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The crowd has been hearing of a new face in the roster, known under the alias "Omen" but what was he like? What would this man bring to the table and would it be good enough? These questions would be answered in a few moments as the crowd growing in eagerness, making a more tense atmosphere as not even a little taste was enough to quench their thirst for knowing more about the mysterious man. Suddenly, it would be like it all changed once the song "Hurt" by Nine Inch Nails hit the PA system.

I hurt myself today
To see if I still feel
I focus on the pain
The only thing that's real

The music would continue as a howl would accompany the vocals and the beat. The crowd looked down at the ramp and stage which began to be overflowed with fog, the crowd getting eerie waiting for the appearance of the unknown man.

The needle tears a hole
The old familiar sting
Try to kill it all away
But I remember everything

The chorus was about to begin as small parts of tattered clothing could be seen coming from outside the thick fog. The crowd tried to adjust their heads enough to see the man, but they would see him soon anyways as the man would walk outside the fog, with his hand grasping a stick in support of walking down the ring and in the opposite hand, a mirror ball.

Slowly the man began to take a few more steps and all his clothing would be shown, and what seemed to be a mask of sorts on his head. It looked like a burlap sack with holes cut out near the eyes so the man could see. Upon further inspection, the man's eyes were completely bloodshot.

"From Parts Unknown, weighing in tonight at 264 pounds, Omen!"

The announcer would do his job and announce the strange man's stats. Something seemed off about "Omen". Just by the way he walked and appeared was unsettling, imagine him speaking and wrestling. This man however has a pretty dark background, so him inside the squared circle will indeed be an experience.

Omen made his way down to ringside within a minute or so. He would look over the arena, surveying all sides of it for unknown reasons. This man was the personification of creepy if there ever was one. Omen definitely stood out among many other wrestlers. He would continue to slowly walk towards the stairs, where he would throw the stick inside the ring, and his mirror ball, beginning to climb up the stairs slowly, as if he needed to slowly move up the stairs, otherwise his legs would give out. However, that was just a ruse from the man, seeing he will be competing right now.

Omen, would enter the ring and fall inside his corner, eyes open wide as he let out a spine-tingling yell out so the whole crowd could hear him. This would stop the hearts of many just for a moment, but after that creepy ordeal, he would throw off his top into the crowd, waiting.

Very often does Omen get pitted against someone who is slightly bigger than him. Despite that small difference, it doesn't faze someone who feeds off raw brutality and loves to give and receive pain.

The bell would have rung and just like that, the two bulls would lock horns. Both men seeming to want to show who is the strong, more dominant individual. They were not wrestlers, performers, or athletes at this point, they were two creations that were throwing their power at one another.

Omen would have accepted any lock up that was being offered, if one was being offered by Draze. The battle is about to begin, who will win?

It seems that Draze would be overpowering Omen, but the Freak would be a combatant that never let his opponent get an easy edge on him. Just when it seemed like Omen was about to be thrown in the corner, he would begin to power his way out.

The crowd would be sucked into this match. Which brawler was better, which beast was deadlier, and it seemed like Omen was proving that he was both better, and deadlier, until the fact he started losing his footing and was being thrown back into the corner again as a giant surge of power filled Draze, throwing him into the corner.

The two were like that for a few moments until Draze backed up slightly and placed his boot into the stomach of Omen, planning to do something that most big men never do. But, no one would ever know what he was trying to do.

Because with that little bit of separation, and only having a foot in his way of a rampage, it's easy to slip out of the jaws of certain death, of impending doom, just by using your power. Which is what Omen would do.

Because when Draze began to fall forward, the Freak would have looked to make his move by grabbing Draze by his leg and looking to bring him down on his own with a takedown.

It seems Draze was well aware of the possibility of a reversal seeing that he grabbed the bottom rope, his only escape route from being killed by the brute strength of Omen,that bottom rope.

The official hated going between two monsters, so he would begin the count. Omen didn't seem to care much about the count as he would bring both of his hands upon Draze's neck, attempting to ring him like a cloth soaked with water. The water, in this case, was the life force of Draze.

One....Two....Three....Four....Fi-

On the brink of being disqualified, Omen finally let go of the gruesome choke he looked to apply upon the throat of Draze who avoided a face-to-face greeting with Death.

Outside went Draze who seems to holding onto his throat on the outside while at a kneel. Omen would have given the time to snicker at the delightful pain that was inflicted, but he had to get to his feet himself.

With that thought, he would get up, by rolling to the outside and placing his feet on the padding that hid the cement under it. Slowly, the Freak would sneak behind his pray until finally he looked to grab the man by his hair and throw his skull directly against the nearest set of steel steps.

Omen usually liked toying with his prey, but sometimes, you have to take the garbage out before you can take your time to toy with it. No use in playing with lively meat when it's getting its own shots in.

Just like that, the Freak was fooled for one of the first few times in his career by a man of larger size than him. He never expected it to happen, but it did, and he payed the price of giving a free edge to his opponent.

Omen would drop to the padding, holding his upper-chest as it had been lit up by the quick extension and connection of the arm against him.