The Disciple: First Mission

Chapter Twenty Three

The days leading up to the RAW Netflix debate were a whirlwind. As much as I wanted to savor every moment of preparation, the pressure of it all weighed on me like an iron anchor sinking deeper and deeper into the ocean. But the truth was, I couldn't let up. This was my moment. The one I had been working for. And it was happening on the biggest stage possible. RAW. Netflix. The debate was penciled in as the Main Event Segment. It wasn't just another segment in the middle of the show; no, this was the final battle, the culmination of everything we had been hyping for weeks.

I couldn't afford to stumble.

And on top of that, there was Tribal Combat—Roman Reigns vs. Solo Sikoa for the Ula Fala—scheduled just before us. The stakes were higher than ever. A clash of titans, followed by the battle of wits. The arena would be electric. Everyone would be fired up after that war in the ring. The audience would be ready for action, emotion, drama, the whole package. If we didn't bring our A-game, we would be forgotten in the wake of that raw, physical spectacle.

I could feel the energy already. The buzz around RAW was palpable, electric. The air inside the locker room hummed with anticipation as I reviewed my notes again. Lionel—my opponent in this verbal war—was a calculated, smooth talker. A master of words and manipulation. But I had something he didn't: passion.

I wasn't just debating for the sake of the show. No, I was fighting for something bigger. For truth. For change. For a better way forward. Lionel? He was just a man with an agenda, a polished version of himself that he thought could win over the crowd. But I knew better. In the end, it wasn't about how you dressed it up. It was about what you stood for.

I stood for authenticity.

The countdown to the debate continued, but my thoughts kept circling back to Tribal Combat. Roman Reigns, the reigning champion, against his cousin Solo Sikoa. Two men who understood the meaning of family better than anyone, battling for the most prestigious title in the universe. The Ula Fala. The stakes couldn't be higher. And I couldn't help but feel a sense of awe at the spectacle unfolding in front of me. But I couldn't afford to be distracted. I had to keep my eyes on the prize—my Main Event moment.

I turned my attention to my team. They had been with me through it all, from the research to the strategy, helping me map out every angle of the debate. The tension in the room was palpable. Everyone knew this was the make-or-break moment of my career. I exchanged a nod with my manager. We didn't need to speak; we both understood what was at stake.

The crowd outside the arena was already beginning to swell. The sound of chants, the pounding of drums from the distant concession stands, and the familiar crackle of the announcer's voice reverberated through the walls. The energy was reaching a fever pitch.

"Ten minutes to showtime, James," my assistant called out from the doorway.

I stood up, my hands clasped behind my back as I paced. "This is it. Everything we've worked for. Make sure the tech team is ready. No mistakes." I turned, locking eyes with everyone in the room. "We're not just here to put on a debate. We're here to win. And we're here to make history."

With that, I took a deep breath. The doors to the ring were about to open, and it was my turn to step into the spotlight. The roar of the crowd hit me like a wave, and for a split second, I felt a sense of calm wash over me. This wasn't about outsmarting Lionel. It was about outclassing him.

I stepped into the debate area, a stage so familiar and yet entirely new. The spotlights were blinding, the cameras rolling, the crowd on edge. It was the moment of truth.

And then, there he was—Lionel. Cool, composed, with that arrogant smirk plastered across his face. I knew that smirk. He had it in spades, and he wore it like a badge of honor. But I wasn't intimidated. I was focused.