June 5, 2026. 9:35 pm Pechanga Arena San Diego California.
We are off camera as Marcus Ambrose sits on a trainer’s table with an ice pack wrapped around his left shoulder as a doctor shines a light into his eyes. It has been 30 minutes since Marcus defended the AOWF title against Espalda Plateada in front of around 14,000 fans. A twenty-five-minute back-and-forth match that took both wrestlers to their breaking point ended with Plateada being dumped on his head and Marcus putting his lifeless body into a crossface that caused the referee to immediately stop the match and award Marcus the victory. After being examined post-match and given clearance, Marcus gathers his title, bag, and heads to his black SUV to begin the two-hour drive up the 5 to Marina Del Rey. The night air is cool, refreshing. The ride, once out of San Diego, is easy and relaxing. He is chugging water from a gallon jug as he exits the city and his Spotify playlist moves to Cage the Elephant’s 2013 haunting hit “Cigarette Daydreams.” He hums quietly along.
You sigh, look away… hide behind that baby face… do-do-do.
You can drive all night… lookin for the answer.
Funny how it seems like yesterday.
Funny indeed.
A text message hits his phone. He doesn’t give any attention to the dashboard screen with the alert.
You can drive all night.
Lookin for answers in the pouring rain.
You wanna find peace of mind.
do-do, do, do, do.
Lookin for answers.
If you can find a reason, a reason to stay.
Standin’ in the pourin’ rain…
He tells his car to read the text message.
AOWF five, Homicide in Hawaii.
Marcus “Showtime” Ambrose versus Dustin Thunderwolf Kelser for the AOWF World Title. Cage Match. June twenty-first.
He lets out a laugh and a deep breath. A breath that carries the memory of every punch, kick, and body slam he has taken over the last five years. A breath that thinks about the twenty-plus-minute war he just put his 50-plus-year body through. He turns down the music.
Record…
We are inside a dark car going north on the 5 (Interstate 5 for the non-Californians). It takes a second but this is being recorded from his phone that is positioned above the dashboard screen in the car. We can see between the two front seats to his bag sitting in the middle of the back seat. It is dark. We can make out a chin and jawline covered in two days of stubble. We see an arm and a t-shirt that is too hard to make out. His eyes, which we can’t see, are laser focused on the road. He clears his throat, brings a jug of water to his lips, sips, and puts it back down.
Marcus: Since the end of the pandemic, I have traveled this Earth finding and facing the best competition. Japan, Mexico, Russia, China. I have gone there and taken on the best, and each time I’ve walked out holding the title that rests inside the bag behind me. I say this not as a brag or even a humble brag, but to suggest I’m not a hard man to find. But you didn’t come here to hear me bitch or celebrate.
Since 2021, I have defended this title anywhere between six and ten times a year. I know, not quite the pace we were going back twenty-five years ago, but times change. Science, understanding the human body, it all gets better. Even with all that time passing and knowledge gained, some things remain inexplicable to me.
Here I am. Somehow still alive. The face of the AOWF. The thread holding this whole thing together. Sure, some will say, and I won’t argue with them, the AOWF of now isn’t the same AOWF of 2021. There are no more twice-weekly shows, no monthly pay-per-views. Replaced by supercards that stream and are still witnessed by millions around the world. The lights are brighter, the money is better. There is now some care for the wrestlers.
Just some.
It hasn’t been easy. Every match. Every fight. Every day of training. Every day of sobriety. Every day of being the face of this place. Some days I think it’s too much. Too much to carry the history. The lore. But luckily for me… along comes a hero.
Dustin.
Ah yes. Superman has returned. To come and rescue the AOWF, the fans, everyone… and even myself.
I mean this wouldn’t be the first time you’ve “saved” me, or my family, would it, Dustin?
I’ll be honest. I always thought you would eventually use one of the eight tentacles you’ve got to wrap yourself into a title shot. Always an octopus. Hands in everything. And if anyone ever got too close to figuring out what was really going on, you’d blot out the light with that ink of yours.
When you were raising my daughter, did you ever tell her how you stepped in when Robinson was feeding us painkillers like candy? No? Probably too heavy for a kid. That’s fine. I admit my past. I own it every day. And some days I think… funny how so many of us got swept into that darkness, but you somehow, someway remained clean. So clean you were always available to clean up whatever mess the AOWF or Robinson wanted covered up. Always tied up in ownership stakes, board meetings. Never one of the boys, were you?
Just you and your boy Corey…
Sorry.
I’m projecting.
I’ve spent the last several years thinking about what I’d say if we ever met again. I thought I’d have more. I thought I’d have something grand. But I look around at what the world is now— influencers, the attention economy— and all I want to do is wrestle. And I keep seeing it. More and more tentacles are coming down from the sky. I’m sure this AOWF five event has been in the works for a while. A tribute to everything you and your family have done for this industry. And I’m sure finding out about it now is just another Thunderwolf coincidence.
Jug to lips. Another sip of water.
Dustin, I don’t hate you. But I don’t trust you. I don’t think for one second your involvement in Heather’s and my life back then had anything to do with us. I think it had everything to do with you.
You help raise a daughter who is now a stranger to me. Who only cares about social media impressions and being an influencer.
I’m sure you’ll correct me. Tell me you’re divorced. Tell me the last time you saw Misty you gave her a piledriver. Or Sarah. Or Heather. Who knows. I don’t. You could tell me my blood is now a librarian and I’d have to accept it. Sorry, I’m not up to date on your Bravo reality show. I’ve been a little busy being the best AOWF world champion of all time.
I’m sure you’ll try to make this about our twenty-plus year history. But you don’t know this, Dustin. What you saw me do to phoenix? That isn’t even me today.
Dustin, I’ve spent five years thinking about what I’d say to you. But what I really want is this.
This match.
You and me.
You beat me in my twenties. I disappeared in my thirties. I was the actual phoenix in my forties, ending careers like Raizzor and Chamelion.
And now… in my fifties… I end the lore of Thunderwolf.
I tear off your cape.
I show everyone you were never a superhero.
Just a man who got too obsessed with controlling how the world saw him.
See you soon, bud…
He hits the Spotify button one more time.
A few soft strums from a guitar…
Karma Police, arrest this man. He talks in math.