Twenty four men and women, two dozen souls all coming together for one purpose: to show their skill, to show their strength, to show their determination, their will. Their capacity to soak up absolutely hellacious amounts of damage that would make lesser men and women simultaneously puke, piss, and shit themselves and shortly thereafter passing out.
Three points for a win, one point for a draw, no points for a loss. Whichever of the dozen individuals in each of the two groups scores the highest will face each other in May. The winner of that bout, having proved their mettle, will face me one on one for my DTW World Championship.
But you see, ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, and human cancers of all stages, I'm also here too. A wolf amongst the sheep. I'm fighting my own future competition for my champion, my title, my belt. I am the first, the ONLY DTW World Champion and in the living hell I call a career, not a single one of you has managed to defeat me cleanly in one on one combat.
I get absolutely nothing out of this tournament if I win. A pretty, shiny trophy to adorn my mantle? I don't want them. I don't need them. Years ago I might have been filled with the desire to give it all, to do my best, to win at all costs and earn myself the prestige and glory that comes with victory.
