{{ Chronicles of a Supernova }}

[[★] Jason Krow [★]]

*So many things left unsaid. So many things yet to be done.*

*Stepping away from the security check that has come to be the bane of the existence of every flying traveler within the United States these days, the young man with the black hair and blood-red bangs drags his suitcase-on-wheels through the semi-crowded airport terminal. None other than "The Sinister Supernova" Jason Krow, of course. The reigning WWH World Heavyweight Champion. Surely enough, a future IEO Insane Champion. And now, approaching Pro Wrestling NOVELLA for the Super 8 Cup Tournament -- invitation only. Apparently, some of the higher-ups in NOVELLA have seen his work and recognize his talent and genius. Much unlike the idiots in TJ Maxx suits that devalue him, oh, everywhere else?*

*Jason is leaning against the counter at a local bagel shop outlet here in the airport, waiting on his bagel and cream cheese with the non-fat latte he ordered about two and a half minutes ago. Sure, it's not like he expects instant service from anyone working at an airport, which is filled to the brim with busy, cranky, impatient, or generally pissed-off travelers of all sorts, but still. Is a bagel and a latte too much to ask after he's spent fuck-knows-how-long on a plane coming back from Japan? Finally, the scrawny young man with the curly brown hair gets Jason his bagel-and-cream-cheese and non-fat latte that he ordered, but the Sinister Supernova stops, those ice-blue eyes scanning the bagel before turning up towards the kid behind the counter.*

[S] ★ Jason Krow ★ [S]
"Excuse me -- I asked for extra cream cheese, dude.”

=={ Kyle // Behind the Counter }==
"Dude, that's, like, not my problem, bro."

*Oh great. Another genius with a surfer's slang. Really, what's it take to work here, almost having earned a G.E.D.? Seriously, Jason's completely not in the mood for this shit right now. Putting on an obviously-insincere smirk, Jason suddenly grabs Kyle's collar, dragging him in close and speaking in a low, venomous tone.*

[S] ★ Jason Krow ★ [S]
"Listen to me, kid. Maybe the hair or the eyes or the "I'm SO gonna fucking kill you right now" tone of voice isn't givin' it away, "dude", but I'm Jason fucking Krow. I'm more famous than you've ever had wet dreams about, and from the stains on the front of your pants, I'm assuming that's a lot. So let me make this clear to you. If I don't see about three times as much cream cheese on this bagel in the next 20 seconds, they're gonna find your body in a trash bag out back with about a dozen bagels crammed down your throat. Think it's still not your problem, "bro"?”

*Obviously, from the frightened look on Kyle's face, he doesn't seem to be confused about the matter anymore. Taking the bagel back, Kyle immediately reaches for the cream cheese.*

=={ Kyle // Behind the Counter }==
"Uh, yeah, sure, sure, more cream cheese, comin' right up, dude."

*Damn right it's coming right up. Jason taps his fingers impatiently against the cool tile of the counter, as Kyle frantically puts more cream cheese on the bagel, trying to hide his fear with a smile as he hands it back to Jason. The man with the cold blue eyes takes the bagel, nodding in approval. Good enough amount of cream cheese. Jason turns to go, taking a sip of his latte -- thankfully still hot -- before Kyle speaks out again.*

=={ Kyle // Behind the Counter }==
"Hey are you -- are you gonna, like, pay for that?"

*...Really? Jason lets out an aggravated sigh and turns back around, once again leaning in real close and speaking low so that only the two of them hear the conversation.*

[S] ★ Jason Krow ★ [S]
"Dude...you didn't fill the order right the first time. The customer's always right, so I don't have to pay 'cause of your little fuck-up.”

=={ Kyle // Behind the Counter }==
"Yeah, but still -- if I don't turn a profit, my boss is gonna KILL me, bro!"

*Figuring the poor kid needs a visual aid, Jason reaches inside an inner pocket of his jacket, pulling out an all-too-familiar object -- an eight-inch-long metal spike, one that he's used to cause a lot of pain and suffering over the last year or so. Resting the point directly down on the counter, Jason once again wears that sly little smirk, a sinister gleam shimmering in those icy eyes.*

[S] ★ Jason Krow ★ [S]
"Believe me, Kyle. You keep pressing your luck, and you're gonna WISH your boss was the one killing you. Capiche?”

*The guy simply nods his head frantically, not saying anything else -- frankly, with the sound of trickling now becoming apparent to the ears of the Sinister Supernova, there isn't any need. Jason looks down as he puts the spike away, snickering a little at what he sees. The poor schmuck literally pissed himself. That's rich. Still laughing a little bit to himself, Jason takes a bite of his cream-cheese covered bagel, the spoils of his battle of the wits with yet another of the witless, as he walks away, still dragging the briefcase-on-wheels behind him. Just another example of Jason's life. No matter how much he proves he's the best wrestler walking the face of the earth, no matter how great he proves that he is in all aspects of his career, no matter how far he goes, and still plans to go, in this industry, he still gets no respect. No respect at all. And yes, that was a Rodney Dangerfield reference, get over it.*

*At any rate, the upcoming Super 8 Invitational should help significantly to prove the opposite. It is, as the name implies, invite-only, exclusive only to eight of the very best in the world at what they do. Damnit, if this doesn't shut the marks up, if this doesn't prove he's better than that pale-skinned, horsefaced egomaniac Bryan Danielson, if this doesn't truly cement Jason's place as the best damn wrestler in the world, nothing will. And believe us, it will. Because nothing, and no one, is ever going to stop him from getting to the top around here, not even himself.*

*You think you've seen it all? You haven't seen shit yet.*

========================================

They say, “He’s coming”. “In just a few weeks’ time, he’s coming”. In just a matter of weeks, Jason Krow comes to Pro Wrestling NOVELLA, as part of the Super 8 Invitational Tournament…and everybody wants to know what to expect. Everybody wants to know how to prepare. Let me put it to you all this way –

You can test your speed by running in and out of highway traffic in the city…

You can test your fear by spending the night in the most haunted of homes, among the ghosts and goblins and demons…

You can test your perseverance by standing, headstrong, facing a wild, stampeding herd of elephants, unwavering and unmoving…

But NOTHING you do will ever really prepare you for who and what I am.

…Maybe I should start a tad further back than that. Silly me, getting ahead of myself again. Let me just start by saying that, contrary to what you might’ve heard, contrary to whatever the marks on the internet may tell you about me, I’m not some run-of-the-mill punk who thinks he can just walk in and run his mouth, and then will back down in the face of danger and confrontation. I’m not just another young upstart, or another hot prospect, who proves to be nothing more than just a flash-in-the-pan kind of guy. I am, without a doubt, the very BEST wrestler in the world.

No, my name isn’t Bryan Danielson, because that horse-faced, pale-skinned little nerd doesn’t deserve that moniker. I, on the other hand, DO.

There’s just one little thing you should know about me before the relationship between Jason Krow and the people of NOVELLA goes any further. Something that you ought to know about me in order to prevent any misunderstandings that might arise otherwise. I’m not a “bad” person…I just like doing “bad” things.

Like hurting people.

Like messing with their minds.

Like ruining their personal lives.

Like ending their careers.

See, over the eight long, insufferable years I’ve been a professional wrestler, there’s been quite a few times when I feel a certain “urge”, if you will, to be a little more…aggressive than I ought to be. To actually try to break someone’s arm when I have them down, instead of just pulling it and waiting for the hand to slap the mat. To try and rip someone’s head open to such a horrid degree that they spill out blood like stomach acid from a bulimic high school cheerleader, instead of just simply beating them up long enough to get a victory. To destroy someone from the inside out, crumbling the foundations of all of their relationships, causing them to break down into hysterical insanity and mental collapse, instead of being a good sport and just competing for the thrill of itself.

Call it “sadism”, if you want to attach such a cliché label on it just so you can give it a name.

Call it “savagery”, if you really think that the wrestlers in the ring are the real animals, instead of the insatiable crowd that always screams for their blood.

Or you can get your head out of your ass and call it what it actually is. And that’s simply that it needs to be done.

You see, none of my actions come out of sheer chance or coincidence – there’s a method to my madness. And that reasoning, that vindication, is that, whatever happens to my opponents, they deserve every last second of the pain and the agony, be it physical, mental, or emotional. They deserve it. And why? Because I have a destiny to fulfill, a goal to reach in this dreary world that maybe, just maybe, will give me some sort of message that even a misfit, an outcast, a psychological Rubik’s cube like me, can be the best at the world at what he does. Now, I personally believe I’ve already achieved that level of success, and earned the right to call myself the best…

The problem, of course, is making people agree with me. And so, I have to prove it to them.

BY HURTING THEM.

But, of course, I’m sure most of you listening to this will just dismiss it as the ramblings of a basket case, and, when it comes to a synopsis of Jason Krow, you’ll take the word of the internet mark over that of an honest man. So, honestly, to that mark, and all of the other sad, pathetic pricks like him, I say FUCK you AND your Internet. If it takes taking a sword to the hearts of all of your heroes, pulling them out, and shoving them down your throats, if that’s REALLY what it takes in order to solidify that I’m EXACTLY what I say I am, then I’ll be glad to kill all of your heroes. And your anti-heroes. And your idols. And your role-models. And you long-since-forgotten mentors, too. Anyone who stands in between me and what I want will all go down the same way – PAINFULLY and PERMANENTLY.

Get ready, Pro Wrestling NOVELLA…and don’t say I didn’t try to fucking warn you.