A tidal wave never announces itself…

It waits.

No warning. No rush.

Just inevitability.

That’s my tempo, baby. Slow sway. Easy rhythm. A subtle roll of the hips, and suddenly the room feels before it understands.

I don’t splash – I build. Sheets start shiftin’. Breaths get shorter. Temperature climbs without anybody touchin’ the dial, and next thing you know the shoreline’s gone, the headboard’s takin’ damage, and sisters be holdin’ on like the furniture just filed a damn insurance claim.

That ain’t braggin’ – that’s physics. When Ram Jam gets movin’, floodgates forget their job description.

Dams crack, levees learn humility, and what starts as a ripple turns into a wall of water that soaks everything in reach – leavin’ nothin’ dry but the memory.

That’s the truth about tides… They don’t rush.

They wait until resistance gets comfortable – then they take the whole room.

You know that feelin’ real well, don’t you, Morcant? You built a life chasin’ horizons, sailin’ straight into moods the ocean didn’t bother explainin’.

You’ve watched water rise up like it had a personal issue – waves tall enough to erase names and chew ships down to confessions.

You learned how to read ‘em. How to bend when the sea got ugly.

How to balance on that thin, dangerous line between breath and blackout…

At Wrestle Heroes, they tried to drown you every way they knew how. Slick ropes, flooded floors, danger slippin’ out from under your boots – and still you dragged yourself out the other side Hardcore Champion.

Storm-tested.

Salt-soaked.

Still standin’.

I respect that. Takes nerve to keep sailin’ when the sea keeps askin’ what you’re willin’ to lose, but sooner or later? Every sailor learns the same, hard lesson…

The ocean don’t get tired.

It just waits for the wave you ain’t ready for.

See, Morcie… You and me move by the same laws. You felt it out there on the black water – drag on your boots, pull at your ankles.

The way the sea whispers let go.

Whereas me? I feel it when the room tightens. When the rhythm gets heavy.

When the tide starts leanin’ forward like it already knows what’s next.

Same tension. Same promise.

But here’s the difference…

You learned how to survive the water, brother. I learned how to make it take.

Your storms gave you hope. My swells strip it away.

When that bell rings and the tide comes in? Don’t look for a rope. Don’t look for land.

This ain’t spray in your lungs or salt in your eyes.

This is weight. This is depth.

This is the moment the sea stops testin’ you and starts keepin’ you.

You didn’t sail all those miles to wash up on my shore, Blacktide – you sailed here to find out what happens when Ram Jam starts makin’ waves.

The kind that pull you under, keep you there a heartbeat longer than you planned, and send you back up wonderin’ how you got so wet.

And when the water finally settles?

When the tide’s done movin’ and the sea goes quiet?

That ain’t peace, baby…

That’s you just lookin’ around, askin’ who got a towel.