REAL GODS REQUIRE BLOOD

They speak nonsense, all of them. The newly reformed KONSTANTINE sat hesitantly in the gym that Lance Hawkins provided for all of the Bloodhaven. He seemed to think that all of the people before Devin was meant to be nurtured and trained by him. Those days were over. Long ago, Devin would train people. They dissipated before long. They might have been figments of Devin's imagination, derived from his ego. He leaned against the turnbuckle of the tarnished ring. His emerald hues glossing over all of the "students", the "new generation".

A smirk came upon his face. The new generation, hm? These were children, no, these were infants in this world. None of them had held substantial gold or participated in anything grandiose. They were starry-eyed behind the bloodlust they gave off. Devin signed onto this project, not to try the future. He was nearly thirty, with a lot left in the proverbial tank. He would be competing for two world championships soon. 


He had hit his stride of a veteran champion. He held world class gold a couple of years ago, but the new age management did not recognize his talent. He was bitter, to say the least. ACE was a breeding ground. All of the people signed here wanted to be like him and MONROE. The differences between the Bloodhaven and the Slaughterhouse were not yet defined.

Today, KONSTANTINE would start his own project of sorts. ACE was a free land, not conquered by anyone yet. His fellow camp leaders were striving to solidify their place in ACE's history. There would be more camps and leaders as time went along. It was a matter of time, but being apart of the original four was historical itself. Devin had plans to solidify the Bloodhaven, but not in the most gentle of ways. That was never his ideology.

Time seemed to have paused before Devin began to speak. The students, the future, stared at him, contemplating what the soon-to-be legend would say. A smirk etched onto Devin's face. He got off of the corner, making his way to center of the ring.

"Ladies and gentlemen," his nasally voice rang through the silent gym, "ACE is ours," he stated. Confused glances swapped between the lambs. "I am sorry if you were looking for primary training. I am no trainer. I will teach you one thing, however. I will teach you how to take what is yours."

"You want gold?" he asked. People nodded their heads. "You have to take it," he followed up. "There are five belts in ACE and I want the Bloodhaven to own them all. You will not stop until all of them are in our possession. You cannot be gentle and courteous. There is no such thing as honor anymore. Those days died long ago."

"You want fame and fortune? You will have to take it. But we are not catering to the common filth, no, we don't do that. We show them why they should follow us!" the crowd of newcomers began to clap their hands, excited by his words. "When we appear, they will be forced to speak of us!"

"Finally, I assume that all of you are here because you are all sicked and twisted! You people want bloodshed; you want hear the symphonies of agony when your opponents scream for high heaven! If that is the case, you have come to the right place."

"I will aid you all in getting what you want."

"First, we must make ourselves known. This week, FightCall will have a little surprise to make ourselves known," Devin stated, getting out of the ring. He walked in front of the group, smiling devilishly. He peered around for a bit, and then he focused on one man.

In the far back, one Brian McLoud, one of Devin's many rivals, sarcastically clapped his hands. "Some speech," he said, stepping off of the wall. "I think I speak for everyone when I ask...'when will we be beatin' some ass'?" his country accent always annoyed Devin. Devin scoffed.

"Don't worry. The Bloodhaven will paint Hawkins' office with the blood of our enemies. All I need you all to do is...to trust me," one of Devin's infamous smirks came upon his face against, before he began to walk off. 

"Train among yourselves," he said, waving them off to do whatever the hell they wanted. They weren't his problem, really.