Survive and Conquer Match RP Thread

[President Jeff]

ALL RP'S FOR THE SURVIVE AND CONQUER MATCH IS TO BE POSTED IN THIS THREAD ONLY. ANY OTHER POST WILL BE DELEATED

Deadline to RP for this match is on January 28th at 9:00pm EST allowing 3 weeks to RP for this match, Any RP's posted after the Deadline time will NOT COUNT. There will be a 1 RP LIMIT and a 4000 WORD LIMIT for this match. Also NO EDITING OF RP'S. Results will be posted Sunday, January 30th.

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SURVIVE AND CONQUER MATCH

BDC VS SALLY TALFOURD VS KEATON SAINT VS XXX FLAME VS BRANDEN HARVEY VS COBRA VS KENNY KASUAL VS PENCE WEATHERLIGHT VS EBON VS JAMES LOGAN VS LEVEL ONE VS IAN DETORNADO VS VICTOR HADES VS MIKE PARK VS JASON SCENE VS CJ GATES VS TRAVIS MILLER VS CAIO KASH VS PSYCHO DRAGON VS THE GAMBLER VS ROBERT RAVENCROFT VS JAMES VARGA VS JAY WILDMAN VS JT CASH VS JASON KASH VS ACE ANDREWS VS LILLY ROSE VS KIP KUTLER VS KURT NOBLE VS CHRIS HART VS KINGSTONE VS TERRY MARVIN VS EVAN CARAVELLE VS CHRISTIAN G SMITTEN VS ULTRAMARCUS VS STEPHAN CALLAWAY VS MASAMUNE VS JOHNNY KNUCKLES VS JEREMY STERLING VS RYAN RUCKUS

[kipkutler]

(The scene begins the next morning after the TCW Tuesday special and the location is Los Angeles, California in "The New Age Icon" Kip Kutler's multi-million dollar mansion. The camera is set up in the beautiful kitchen of the estate and pans around looking at the white tiled floor. Bare feet start to walk and come into view as the camera shifts up, revealing the individual to be none other than Kip Kutler himself. The camera man follows Kutler over to where a coffee maker is placed on a counter. Kutler grabs the pot of coffee, reaches up and grabs a coffee mug out of a cabinet above his head, pours himself a cup of coffee, and puts the coffee mug back down on the counter. Walking over to the refrigerator, Kutler comes back with milk, pours some into the coffee mug, then places the milk carton back into the fridge before closing the door. Before taking a seat at the kitchen table, Kip grabs a spoon, a jar of sugar, and proceeds to dump a shit load of sugar into his coffee. He stirs his coffee as he makes his way to the kitchen table and takes a seat. Sean places his cup on the table and finally looks up at the camera. His attire becomes a bit more clear, and it is seen that he is wearing a brand new black "ICONIC" t-shirt, red and black plaid pyjama pants, and his feet are bare [as noticed when he first came into view]. Kip's warm brown eyes stare into the camera as he brushes his right hand through his short blonde hair, which is a little messy looking... due to the fact that he just woke up. After taking a sip of coffee and placing the mug back onto the table, Kip smiles his world famous shit eating grin, the second time on a APW camera, then finally begins to speak....)

Kutler: "To APW, wrestling fans around the world, and to any random schmuck who might be watching this that don't know who I am, let me introduce myself. My name is 'The New Age Icon' Kip Kutler, and I happen to be the HOTTEST wrestler on the market to come off of free agency! Not only that, but let's just say that I don't go by the famous call names such as 'The Real Deal Of Professional Wrestling', 'God's Gift To Wrestling', 'The Main Attraction In The Wrestling Industry', and 'The King Of Rebellion' for nothing! "

(Kip stops for a minute as he rubs his blood-shot eyes. He flashes a quick smirk before continuing.)

Kutler: "You know, I could go on and on about how I'm a former 5 time World Champion, a 4 time United States Champion, a 2 time Intercontinental, Television, and Tag-Team Champion... winning ALL those titles in a combination of 4 different federations before the age of 30... (pauses) but that wouldn't matter. What matters is that I'm in a new fed, starting over from the bottom, and working on climbing my way up to being one of the top performers in a WORLD CLASS atmosphere. I mean, shit, we're talking about APW!

(Kutler flashes his "cocky as hell" grin once more. He takes another sip of coffee, continuing on with the mug still in his right hand.)

Kutler: "Before I go any further, let me say that while I may be a new face around here, I am NO stranger to APW and some of the talent that is here. Hell, one of the MAJOR reasons why I'm here in the first place is because of one of the most hated, yet most inspiring legends still in the business today,Hurricane Jeff! You see, I've studied ALOT of Jeff's history and am VERY aware of the kind of person he is. As a matter of fact... I even know what kind of political playing, booty-pushing, no-good ass hole he is!"

(Kip smiles a quick and sarcastic smile, the kind of smile that just makes you want to punch someone in the face for acting like a smart ass, then chuckles. He continues once again.)

Kutler: "What's the matter, Jeffy Boy? (smirks) How about you tell these people here in your company about our history? Or are you too afraid that that'll expose the true chicken-shit that you REALLY are? Actually, save your breath."

(Kip takes another sip of coffee from the mug in his right hand. He places the mug back onto the table. Continuing on....)

Kutker: "You see, APW, your owner isn't as much of a role-model as you think he is. Hell, he's even too scared to face ME in the ring one on one! That's right. To state another fact, actually... I'm about ready to turn this shit into one big history lesson right here (smirks). Anyone here can ask Jeff himself, and I'm sure he'll have no problem denying it. Here goes. In a former fed that I was in, I went on national television and called out Jeff. That's right. I CALLED OUT THE SELF PROCLAIMED MESSIAH to come to my federation and face me one on one like a man. You want to know how much balls Jeff truly has? The fucking pussy backed out saying that I wasn't worthy enough! What he REALLY meant was that his balls where all the way in his throat as soon as he heard me call his ass out! So instead, I decide to make another challenge. I decided since the pussy won't come to me I will come to him and I entered the battle of the Best and represented RAGE at the time. He made sure the deck was stacked against me!

(Kutler chuckles to himself, then winks, letting the APW tournament roster know the kind of cocky ass hole he is.)

Kutler: Now Jeff will vow this never happened and he will even deny the fact he had a chance to sign me but he blew it by being cheap.

(Kip stops once more. He picks up the coffee cup one more time and takes a huge gulp. He slams the empty mug onto the table and looks back up.)

Kutler: "But STILL after ALL this time, I have YET to get my hands on Jeff. Now that I'm a free agent, you bet your ass that I won't be pulling any stops to get my chance to face him in the ring. Obviously I'm worthy enough. I mean, come on... I'm 'The New Age Icon" Kip Kutler for Christ's sake! No, this isn't about me wanting to destroy what's left of his washed up wasted career. This is about me being a man and challenging a "so called" LIVING legend to be a man as well and accept my challenge like a man. You call yourself the 'Legend Of Legends, Jeff? Prove it! I wanna know just WHAT KIND of legend you are. Like I said, if you're nearly the man you say you are, you'll accept my challenge. If not, that only proves that you're nothing but a washed up HAS-BEEN! I'll await your response, Jeff."

(Kutler stops once more and locks his dreamy brown eyes with the camera lens. He stares coldly into the camera and he speaks one more time for the morning.)

Kutler: Now let's talk about this Survive and Conquer business. 500'000 dollars and bragging rights? It may seem real interesting to someone lesser but a man like me ain't really that impressed with it. Sure I could kick the crap out 39 pieces of trash, take the money and open up a REAL FED and show APW and little Jeff how SUCCESS is made! But this ain't about the money, this is about proving that Hurricane Jeff is nothing more then a big fish in a metal minnow bin. It's guys like you who make this look bad.Within the confides of APW you may very well be considered a legend, a god or something to that nature but in REALITY, The wrestling business has no IDEA who the fuck you are so I am gonna make you famous!

(Kip reaches out and grabs the coffee mug and finishes off what was left and sets the mug down.)

Kutler: "APW, remember this face. THIS is the future face of this BUSINESS (points to his face with his right index finger). The face that will soon embark this fed with the 'Greatness' that only *I* can deliver. I will be seeing you all very soon. Try not to miss me TOO much (chuckles). Oh, and Jeff... I hope to hear from you REAL soon, you stupid son of a bitch!"

(Kip scratches his balls with one hand and pulls his hair back with the other.)

Kutler: I bet APW thinks 500'000 is a big deal?

(Kip snickering)

Kutler: Bragging rights? So let me get this straight. Thew winner will go back to their respected fed and brag about winning a match in a fed that NO ONE cares about or has ever heard about? What is the point in that? What would that prove? Why would anyone want to do that other then some APW trash bag talent who is looking to gain something without a sniff of a title. That would be the only person who would benefit from winning. For me to win is just simply making Jeff angry, angry enough that he grows a set of balls the size of the CN Tower to finally take me on!

(Kip gets up off the couch.)

Kutler: I particpated in your battle of the best abomination and you SCREWED me over for your boy toy Pence. Another ass hole who is only a big deal in small pond. Bottom line is I am going to win this bucket of shit and kick the ass off 39 pieces of trash and win this and JEFF's head will explode.

(Kip starts laughing like an obnoxious prick, then he flips his middle finger to the camera.)

Kutler: See you bitches in the ring!

( The scene fades to black as the words "The Greatness Is Upon Us ALL!" appear in red lettering.)

[Jason Cashe]

INFLUENTIAL WORD Intro[/size][/b][/u]

I've never been the type of guy to have so much on my plate at one time for Feds. I was always that guy who was loyal to one place and did what I had to do to make that place seen as the best place ever. I represented with consistancy and activity and recently that loyalty shit on my face. So now I pick myself up and move forward towards a new line of success, somewhere I've never ventured before. New faces, new names, new goals. Being trusted is something that is earned and to each member of this group, we are trusting of one another. We are equals as members of this group and we share success, we help make it for the man who represents the name DangerTainment. Nobody is just here along for the ride, we ride together, we grow off each other, we are Dangerous, we are Entertaining, We are Dominate....Learn to deal with it even if you don't like it. You might not like us but in the end you will see that respect is earned with success and success is something we are just too good not to find.

"Live and work but do not forget to play, to have fun in life and really enjoy it."
- Eileen Caddy

The tiles on the floor were white with black borders. It was nice tile but looked a bit cheaply done. As the scene opened you could see that you were inside of a bathroom. The sink was fancy, motion sensored even and was built with black steel like material. The counter top was a bright white, expensive polished rock surface. The cabnets were black with white doors that looked very well all put together. Then came the sounds of something unpleasant.

BRRPPPPPRPPPT....(Water splash)

As the camera comes into view of the toilet, the man sitting on it is Jason Kash. His pants pulled up onto his thighs as the sides of his ass are barely seen at the sides. He grunts as another fart and plop of the water inside the toilet is heard. He smells the air and curls his nose and face. Quickly he grabs a nearby can of air spray, the smell good stuff and sprays it beyond what is actually needed. He notices the camera as the corner next to the toilet reveals a walk in shower with like 4 different heads and a chair built into the wall. The walls are rock, giving it that natural outdoors look. Kash grabs the camera and turns it towards him and starts to speak but another sudden release comes squirting and what could be mistaken for urine hitting the water is known as otherwise by the looks on Kash's face.

::Jason Kash::
Ughhh...My butthole is burning from that Indian Food last night. I was trying to wine and dine this chick, one of them yum-yum-spankable hunnies? Figured Indian Food was fancy and alls it did was give my asshole a burn that butt sluts shouldn't feel. Listen, I know this is not your typical "Hello" but my butt changed the game plan. What matters is that I'm looking forward to Survive and Conquer. I LOVE getting into matches that I've never competed in before. I enjoy seeing what can happen in a new enviroment, see what I can do against names that I've never heard of. What kind of talent will show up? Who will come with the best mindset when the match begins? Alot of questions that everyone watching has to be asking themselves as they look at the names in this match. The match itself is one that could sell just on the originality of itself! Now throw in guys like myself and Johnny Knuckles? I only say him because frankly, it's the only person I know in the match. He's actually a member of the same group I'm apart of. We came into Survive and Conquer not just wanting to show the world our strengths and talent but also if given the chance, we want to beat the hell out of each other. If you look back in our careers around 2006-2008ish, you wouldn't find a more violent rivalry. We beat the shit (No Pun intended) out of each other and even though I won...90% of the time, he took me to the limit and that is why this is our perfect shot at making an impact.

Aghhhh.....(Water splashes rapidly) Toilet flushes.

::Jason Kash::
So...39 other guys, most have been in a rumble match. Most have maybe even won one or two in their careers but 36 of those 49 have to be eliminated. They will be losing their hopes to win the match, their wants to make it at least to the final 4 and none of those names who lose their hopes will be named Jason Kash. I'm not gonna sit here like some people and list away at the accomplishments I've have or held during my career. The fact is I've had a bright and successful career and this is just another step in that successful direction. First Survive and Conquer, next comes IWC under the APW banner. I have no doubts about the things I can do inside the ring and I have no doubts that in IWC and then APW, I will find success. I will find it because I will make it for myself, with nobodies help but what I can do for myself inside the ring. In any situation I have found myself in I have adapted and competed at the very top level. I expect that from each and every opponent I compete against as well...Oh wait a minute...this is bad...

He bites his bottom lip, his eyes closed tightly. Then the sound of Ogre comes from inside the toilet. Just a huge belly of gas and the pain flows from his face. You can see the relief in his eyes. His mouth drops open but his nose fills with the smell that came from the great roar. His mouth closes quickly and he grabs the roll of toilet paper and begins to wrap it around his hand. His left hand. Before he leans to wipe he looks at the camera, almost forgetting it was even there. He smiles at the camera and nods, the camera turns around and heads out of the bathroom door. A split screen takes you to the reopening of the scene and now Kash is coming out of the bathroom and into the living area of his apartment condo.

::Jason Kash::
So where were we? Oh yeah...I'm not the type of guy who will always be the best guy in the ring. I won't always be the most crafty, or the most intelligent. Hell I'm giving you all something to use, I'm dissing myself here. The few things I do have though that I can brag about is that there will NEVER be a guy who is on it more often than I. I will always be there, I will always be at my best for that given time. What I can brag about is that I will ALWAYS be the guy who is smoking the best green. Now please don't be a moron and judge me because I smoke a little...okay ALOT of weed because I am licensed to smoke it. The green and this business are the only two things I have in this world that give me an outlet. I have anger issues see and those issues tend to come out at the worst times. I was in a movie theater one time, hadn't had weed in a good week and I was suppose to be retired at the time. Well this old dude was snoring next to me, the very seat next to me. His old ass was snoring loud as hell and I tried..I really tried to be polite and ignore it. I couldn't hear the movie, nobody could hear the god damn movie. So I straight chopped that old bastard in the throat. You know, head tilted back snoring his last few days alive away and I Umaga'ed his ass in the throat. His dentures came out his mouth and I was looked at as the bad guy. That's neither here nor there though and I don't want to go into another story right now.

He steps over to the bar at one wall of the Condo and pulls out a tray from under the counter. It has a pile of green, no seeds, no steams, covered in the brightest crystal covered marijuana. There are a few papers and a blunt wrap on the tray as well and he grabs a paper and begins rolling a joint. The weed has already been grinded down, he puts his in a blender to prep it for rolling and this pile becomes the result of that. The weed sticks to his fingers like it's covered lightly in glue. He rubs his fingers together as words once again begin to come from his mouth.

::Jason Kash::
Now let me tell everyone going into this match. Knuckles and I will work together during the Rumble. Nothing against anyone else in this match but he's a member of DangerTainment and as a Unit, in this type of match, the odds are a very great thing to have in your corner. We know each other better than any other two athletes in this match. So together, we will make it to the final 4 Cage Match and then and only then will we rip at each other for survival. We will try and conquer this match for ourselves once the cage drops and DangerTainment WILL be in the Caged part of this match. We aren't here to help someone else advance, we aren't looking or being paid to lay down for anyone or put someone over. We have no friends but the ones in our group. The last company, the last owner I trusted let me sit in Jail on a lousy 50 Thousand dollar bail because of some hooker who was found ODing in my Hotel room...I shoved her in the closet so what? That bitch said she was the entertainment, I thought she meant the Lounge Singer. I left her alone for one minute and the bitch is snorting up a pile of powder...I smoke weed...I don't do drugs...

That's besides the point. The weed gets me off course sometimes, sorry. What was I saying? Oh yeah, you see I may seem like I'm not in control of my situation right now. Like the drug is controlling me but that is not the case at all. My keys to my car are right here and I have no desire to go out and drive. I'm not hungry yet and I'm about to smoke more. Thinking about this match gets my blood boiling, I am ready, I am prepared. I have been prepared and have not skipped a beat since my last match with my former employer. This is a new beginning for DangerTainment, a beginning that should have been done in a place not so unprepared for what we bring to the table. Just promise us one thing, when you realize you can no longer win...Don't give up. Don't just fail to step up and be a competitor, be a man and bring everything you've got and don't just say it, actually step the fuck up and show that shit. Show you can make us bleed and never stop pushing forward. In other words, don't be a bitch and fight the good fight. Try to beat us and find out if you are above the influence or Under it like most of my opponents...

The vibration of his cell phone at the end of the bar top catches his attention. Grabbing his phone, he slides it open and pushes the talk button. He turns it on speaker and places it back on the counter top as he continues rolling and then lighting the joint. He hesitates to answer the call as he is taking his time hitting the joint. Then after he pulls in enough smoke, he answers the caller with a lung full of smoke.

::Jason Kash::
You got a dime, it's your time...

::Christian Gallos::
Jason! Good to see your in good spirits. Listen, I want to talk to you about this Survive and Conquer match. I know your excited and getting even to the Final Four will be a huge accomplishment coming into IWC and being signed under the APW Banner. People will instantly see DangerTainment as a group that isn't going to slack off. You ready for this, been working your cardio?

Releasing the smoke, Kash coughs a bit as a line of drool drops from the corner of his mouth. He wipes it up with the back of his arm before speaking at the phone again.

::Jason Kash::
Heh. I've been working long night cardio! Get it? Sex reference...It's almost as easy as having my bald head or heads shinning in the open air, females come running. I tongue punched this one chick's fart box and she giggled..It was funny...

::Christian Gallos::
Moving on...Knuckles recently finished signing the paper work for APW Roster, he wants that Extreme Championship. Said something about needing to relive the old days but without the influence preventing him from it...Didn't make much sense. When does Knuckles though half the time. He is thrilled about this Survive and Conquer match though, just the chance to make it to the Final Four so you two can bomb on each other. PLEASE don't hurt each other, for christ sakes we don't need two of the three members of this group hurt because of each other.

The joint burns crisp as smokes slowly flows from it's tip. Kash leans against the counter smoking and conversating with DangerTainment's Manager. His stomach wasn't finished but he felt relief for the moment. He was happy to be in a new spot, new beginnings sucked because you had to learn new people and their personalities. New people you have to work for and take orders from. This wasn't about IWC yet though, this was about Survive and Conquer.

::Jason Kash::
So have you dug up anything on someone in this match? Something to eliminate even one more guy from the start then the odds of making it to the Finals comes a bit easier. Knuckles is gonna go at this head strong, he's going to be his usual aggressive self and try to smash fools and toss them out so my job is to use my head and make sure I survive that portion of the match. The rumble is where things get scary because it only takes being tossed over the ropes to be gone. So I've been working the ropes and having people try to toss me over. Big guys, Giants, small guys, a group of guys, I've worked it pretty good so far I believe. I have no doubts about going into the match.

::Christian Gallos::
That's good to hear, I'm glad you are on top of things. It's why you were a top choice for this group. Listen, I have to run. Money to transfer, money to make. You know how it goes. I'll talk to you soon.

::Jason Kash::
Yeah no doubt. Later

Kash pushes down on the phone's end button. He slides the phone shut and pulls in a deep inhale of the joint. The thoughts of what Gallos said began to play in his head. Why he was chosen to be apart of this group, we any of the current members were chosen for the role being played as memebers of DangerTainment. Then he revisited his entire career as if a flash video plays through his head. He flicks the ashes from the tip of his joint and then moves from the bar. He heads over to the couch and plops down into the soft cushion of the leather black couch. He recently got upgrades made to his condo, from the bathroom with the sex chair built into the shower to the bar installed in the living room area.

::Jason Kash::
You know I've done alot in the time I've been around this business. First coming into it JUST to take someone out and make a quick dollar. I was raised in the streets, in a part of Atlanta where it was rare for a white dude to be running drugs and running with gangs. I have done more to survive in my life than most people have. I've seen the life drain from someone's eyes as they struggle to live and that was hard the first time it happened. The second time it happened, the third time even...Those were a bit easier to see. Like something in my head switched on and I no longer felt anything for someone elses hopes and dreams fading away, their live, the look in their eyes that slowly views everything that they've seen, known, and loved pass through their thoughts. I've also seen that same look in someone's eyes as they lay on the mat knowing the end has arrived. Their goals are changed, their whole plan flashes before their eyes and it's almost as though life itself has faded a bit. I've been through hell both inside the ring and outside of it. I don't use it as an excuse, I smoke weed and put it as something I use to motivate myself. To put that extra umpth into my training. I do my homework, I get to know my opponents inside and out. Yet for the life of me I am still in the dark about alot of you. What I do know is that winning this match puts 500 Thousand big ones in my bank account. I can buy off the money that Hurricane Jeff used to bail me out of Jail. I can make sure that DangerTainment has the best training equipment at their use, the best training partners. You see we don't just look at an opponent and work our own strengths. We train to your weakness so because there are 39 other men in this match, WHO KNOWS who I will come across. So I train for this with instinct, wit, and the hard working talent that I have grown to have. I've worked hard to get where I'm at and I enjoy the low ranks at the beginning because I can push through those ranks and respect is earned not just handed to me. My hype is not my strongest suit, it's just something that follows my name. People want to see the things I do to others. The pain I inflict on those who seem to be the better bet.

Like back when the Triple Cage was popular for a brief minute, I won my very first World Championship. That match changed the course of my career because I was the guy who barely got into that match. Nobody had their money on me to win it, I was like the Seahawks beating the Saints during this year's playoffs. They were 100 to 1 odds favorites to win, so if I you had bet 3 dollars, you'd get 303 back if the Seahawks go on to win the Superbowl. I've had those odds before against me and this time is not much different. Now every man in this match is at a 39:1 odds of taking it all. Like an action packed lottery winning, you win here, you Survive and it's 500 Grand in your pocket (Hopefully AFTER taxes) and bragging rights which would look OH SO GOOD as I begin my career here in this new place. So I want to take the time to give a run down of those that are in this match. Most would say it's too many new faces to speak on but I will go over the few I've done my homework on, those that are worth mentioning as potential threats to me winning this thing. Let's first start off with a new joint...this one is at it's end.

He gets up off the couch and coughs as the last bit of smoke comes from his mouth. He returns to the bar and begins rolling another joint. Words again come as he rolls.

::Jason Kash::
So we'll begin with APW's World Champion, Sally Talfourd. Congradulations on being the first female to hold the APW Championship! I mean who could have predicted a dominant female. It's nice to see a female standing her ground and doing great things for herself without a man leading her way. Girl Power! The thing is this isn't a time to congradulate a female for solo accomplishments when this match will have more than just one other person trying to eliminate you. You bested a single man, every man that you've stood infront of thus far and now you will be surrounded by some of those men and some others you've never met. Who wants to be eliminated by a female? So to say you're a target is really pointless. You're not only a Top Champion but a Female and those are two things that ruin the odds of you winning this match. Good luck though, I enjoy seeing the different angles from the camera when you wrestle...Mmm...Another person and perhaps a bigger respected Champion involved in this match is Cobra. The current CWC Champion...I must say that is a very hefty accomplishment there Cobra! You must be a great talent indeed and I fully intend to test if we get to be in the ring at the same time. If...you can live up to that hype and CWC isn't too full schedule for you. I also see that there is another Kash in this match, first let me assure you that my last name is and has always been Kash. It's a birth name. My Great Grandfather was Jonathan Hubbard Cash, he was a poor man and believed the last name Cash was a curse to his poor life. He changed it to Kash with a K and the rest is history. The name isn't a role I play to look cool, it's my name. I'm not some "KID" trying to be what they've seen on television...Weak. The rest...Well I guess we'll see how the rest plays out when the match goes down. Thanks for watching, good luck to everyone...Influence has arrived and I plan to Influence everyone...

Putting a newly rolled joint into his mouth, a zippo comes up into the scene being held by Kash's hand. He lights the lighter, takes a deep inhale, his eyes close and he enjoys the flavor. He enjoys the aroma and the idea of getting on with this match, the game of survival being something that almost turns him on. The scene flickers as if their is a short in the screen, Kash blows a thick cloud of smoke towards the camera as the screen shuts to a black screen.

[jaywildman]

It was a night to remember, or so they told me. A night I would never forget, a night where my dreams came true and I finally realized I would be the Heavyweight champion at Sanctioned Violence Wrestling. Overcoming the odds, not only to come back under a different name and work my way up the ladder but to have a handicap match where no one thought I would walk from the ring with the gold strapped around my waist should have been the greatest moment in my career since signing my very first contract so many years ago.

So why does it feel a little hollow?

Where was the fanfare, the angelic beings coming down from the heavens to grant me an audience with whatever god believed in me? When would the world shape and shift to my liking, to be as I always wanted it to be without so much as trying? There were no answers to this problem other than with the fact I was duped, lied to by my own brain and ambitions to hope something better would come from an already amazing accomplishment. Not everyone managed to get their hands on the World title in sVo, only been held by six people now and only twice by two of them. It is a very exclusive club.

Nine years working hard, shooting myself in the foot and being an arrogant asshole paid off in winning the title at Season's Beatings, though I have been told by more than a few people I knew I should have been a champion far earlier in my career than this. They always pointed out the flaws in my logic, the ability to rub people the wrong way without even trying and pissing off those who supported me because I couldn't see the success I deserved. Too afraid to get to the top and look out over the kingdom I created to only see it for the crap it was.

It also led to my mental health issues I had while I wore the Grimnir mask. The mask was liberating to say the least, to be able to wrestle in anonymity and do what I needed to do in order to maintain focus on the nine year old goal in my life made for an interesting ride to the top. If management only knew the demons living in my head, they would have easily stripped this belt from me as soon as I pinned Beautiful Bobby Dean. Granted, they would have been in trouble as soon as they laid a hand on me but I am glad they just let me walk out with the title around my waist.

I could only hear the demons whisper now, shades taunting me from afar as they wanted more from me. Giving them gold is the first step in the new history. They had plans for me, bigger plans than even I could dream. I was quite content in waking up the morning after Season's Beatings at my Las Vegas home, clutching onto the title like some child holding onto his favorite new doll the day after Christmas. In fact, it was even better because I didn't have to lie to my Aunt Judy about how wonderful the sweater she knitted was while sneering at it like the broccoli I never liked eating during my youth.

I got up from the bed and stretched a bit, feeling the bruises and the bandages tug on my body. I remembered quite a few dings and some bleeding. All would be scars resting over the others from my career. They would find a home and tell a tale like a rune stone, a man's journey with many names but one faith. Blood, sweat and tears with a little self destruction mixed in, like a Michael Bey movie but without the explosions.

All right, so nothing like a Michael Bey movie then.

I grabbed the belt and slung it over my shoulder for a moment, looking in the mirror to see how it looked. I kept thinking it couldn't be real at all, I dreamt the whole thing and when I woke up to see it missing, I would curse whomever occupied my brain at the moment for deceiving me another day. They loved deceiving me, a favorite game played by my demons who wanted me broken and built up into something a little more marketable and challenging.

Yet, I could see the nameplate on the title with my name etched into it. I let my finger run up and down the carving, sighing like a little schoolgirl as I wondered if all new champions felt this way the first time they won something so important. The golden glitter and gleam in the mirror seemed a little more magical, a little more wonderful. I could have stood there for hours looking at the sight and never get used to it.

A knock at my bedroom door shattered the illusion, forcing me to deal with the fact I just put a huge target on my back the others in my federation would have been happy to hit. I knew I would never have a moment's peace while holding it so I would just have to get used to being a target. I put on some pants and walked over to the door, grumbling about how people could be so rude as to interrupt a man's fantasy. I threw open the door with the biggest scowl I could muster and wanted to punch the person on the other side. Instantly I pulled my hand back when I realized it was my brother Elias.

"Elias? What the hell are you doing here in Las Vegas? Shouldn't you be in New York trying to scam another hundred thousand from some poor, unsuspecting college kid wanting to hit the pros?" I said.

"Come now, you haven't seen me in at least a year and this is the way you greet me? I would have expected a handshake or even a hug, I'm not our father."

The smug asshole was right about one thing, he certainly wasn't our father. There were times I thought he could have been, the way he acted at times made him more like our father than not but I could see he wasn't here to trade banter but to talk about something important. I walked past him and motioned for him to follow since I didn't feel comfortable with him in my bedroom. The last time I did, we were in our teenage years and he managed to burn my collectables to teach me a lesson about growing up.

"You don't talk to me unless you know something, you want something or you have something I want. Since I have the thing I want with me right here, I can only imagine you know something I don't."

"Am I so predictable you already know what I'm thinking? I can't imagine what you're talking about. I came by to congratulate my baby brother! After all these years, all the attempts at getting the brass ring. You did it! I'm sure father wouldn't be pleased about you winning since he never thought your accomplishments worthy enough to be honored but he is dead so what does it matter?"

I walked down the stairs with the title still slung over my shoulder, shaking my head as I listened to the mindless prattle. He wanted something from me. He always did when he played dumb. Granted, he always was a bit touched in the head but I expected him to be after taking so many hits to the head while playing sports in college. The concussions he acquired while playing three sports in a forgettable division three school would have amazed even the most jaded sports fan. Some even considered his existence a minor miracle, the ability to talk and breath without major complications meant someone above watched out for him.

I still wondered if the damage occurred in his soul instead.

"I just want you to tell me whatever you were going to tell me, get this over and done with so I can at least enjoy my day with this title." I said.

My brother feigned a hurt ego, his hand on his heart as his eyes fluttered a bit as if he were getting woozy from being assaulted by my words. I expected him to grab a parasol, a hoop skirt and a shawl while acquiring a southern drawl before fainting on my freshly waxed floors. I growled at him but made my way to the kitchen to get myself some coffee.

"Jay, you know as well as I do you have a very limited view for your abilities. It's only after eight years you finally got the title belt, I think it is time for us to kick it up a notch or two and get your name into as many houses as we can."

"Fuck off Elias." I said, growling under my breath.

"Hear me out, boss. You took the prize in a smaller federation. Yes, they are growing and getting talent to challenge you for the title but you know these younger pups are going to get to you and rip you apart like Nana did to the Thanksgiving turkey."

Thanksgiving, he had to bring the freak show up. Being the youngest of three brothers, I had to hear about how bad my choice would have been if I didn't manage to be an accountant. I had my nieces and nephews asking me if they could get into the business and Nana, the matriarch of the family, destroyed the turkey as if she were some sort of rabid animal eviscerating a defenseless bird. Who knew she purchased stainless steel dentures?

I stopped at the bottom of the stairs and turned my head over my shoulder, my steel gaze attempting to bore holes into his skull.

"What did you do, Elias?"

"I didn't do anything. You'll have to talk to Hugh about it since he talked to your Zyrah. He got her in her head. Something about you being pleased with her, taking up the mantle of the last assistant you had and making it her own. You have her struggling under quite the shadow with Becky's death, you know."

I pulled out the coffee bag from the kitchen cabinet, placing the beans into the grinder as I scowled at my brother for being an idiot. Elias shouldn't have drawn my ire but it couldn't be helped since Hugh was missing from the equation, so he would have to do at the moment. I flipped the switch and heard the grinder fire to life while grabbing a coffee cup from the cupboard, placing it down on the counter next to the pot.

"What, no coffee for me?" Elias asked.

"I don't give coffee to people I told to fuck off. I can't believe you two bullied a sweet girl like Zyrah, I knew you two were assholes but I didn't think it would go this far." I retorted.

"She wanted to do something nice for you!"

"Did you tell your recruits this when you swindled their money from them? I hear DeNaris is still serving a prison sentence after never realizing his dream to play in the NFL. He keeps blaming you, I understand."

Elias' face went from jovial to dark in a heartbeat, the color in his face draining as his eyes lit with a black fire. He strummed his fingers on the counter as he sat on my kitchen stool, a sign to everyone who knew him to back off for a moment or else he would do something stupid. I hummed to myself as I pulled the coffee from the grinder, putting it in the filter placed there by Zyrah earlier in the morning. At least she could be considerate, switching filters after using the machine unlike some other unwanted, boorish idiots sitting in my house. My brother looked like he would erupt, ready to spew profanities and attempt to violate his parole when the door flew open and slammed hard against the wall. I rolled my eyes, shook my head and yelled at the idiot trying to destroy my house.

"You know, I paid good enough money to get this house back in prime condition. Do you mind not playing wrecking crew this early in the morning?"

A large man stood at the threshold, two large grocery bags in his hands and a dopey look on his face. Great, it's my brother Hugh. I wonder what I did to the gods to deserve this fun little family reunion today. Hugh opened his mouth to greet me but instead I heard something unexpected.

"Silly bossman, it's Noon!" the female voice behind him bellowed.

I poured the coffee out from the pot, took the handle and sipped the contents gently as I looked at my brother an innocent glare like I used to when we were younger.

"Went to the grocery store to get a do-it-yourself sex change operation kit again, eh Hugh?"

Hugh's jaw dropped in shock. Zyrah struggled with two larger bags of her own as she tried to move around his stocky frame. Leave it to my brother to be chivalrous in this day and age, forcing a woman carry the heavier stuff because he couldn't do it without a crowd watching his magnificent physique in action. Hugh is intelligent, there is no doubt. He usually refused to use his brain since it got in the way, a sad statement for his shallow life. Even in his early forties, he still bragged to everyone who would listen to him he felt twenty even though his gut and love handles clearly said something different to the world.

Zyrah laughed like an angel as she placed the bags on the counter, motioning for Hugh to follow her. He still stood in the doorway in shock, upset he could have been confused for a woman. I sighed, walked over to my catatonic brother and removed the rather light feeling bags from his death grip, placing them on the counter next to Zyrah's. She disappeared outside, more than likely getting more groceries from the car. I walked back over to my brother and grabbed his arm to move him from the doorway so he wouldn't obstruct the poor girl any longer. I clapped Hugh on the shoulder and smiled, trying to smooth his ruffled feathers a bit.

"Come on Hugh, you know how Elias can get. Sometimes he doesn't explain these things and when I wake up and see you talking like a girl. Well, you can see where I would get a little confused." I said.

Hugh shook his head a little, returning to his normal self after a few moments. Good to know his ego wasn't too bruised.

"Jay! I'm so glad you came down to talk to us about your latest, greatest opportunity!"

I love my brother; sometimes he is as dumb as a mule.

"Oh, I would love to hear the magical mystery tour you have planned for me this time around. It can't be the same as the time you sent me to Egypt to wrestle snakes while covered in pudding?" I retorted.

"I swore it was covered in honey, sometimes my mind tends to wonder on me. No, I have something else for you, something you will thank me for later when you are basking in the half a million dollars you are sure to win once it is all over!"

I arched my eyebrow as I sipped my cooling coffee, wondering what he was going on about this time. There were times I hated having family and wondered if it were too late to try and return two malfunctioning siblings. Maybe I could get a good price on them like when people trade in their games to the place that stops the gaming fun.

"I see, sounds somewhat promising. Care to fill me in or are we going to play the Wildman guessing game?"

Mind you, the Wildman guessing game usually involved me being pinned down to the floor as my brothers tortured me.

"We got you signed up to the Action Packed Wrestling's Survive and Conquer challenge!" Elias said.

I sipped my coffee, moving my view from Hugh to Elias and back to Hugh once more. Inwardly, I wanted to see them sweat for my entertainment after telling me this little tidbit. They knew I had an issue with these matches, I recalled hearing something about it while in the main sVo offices before taking off the Grimnir mask. It wasn't so much competing with other stars from other federations, it is the fact these matches can shorten careers for sometimes minimum reward. I placed my cup down on the counter and cleared my throat, speaking slow and concise so I can make myself understood.

"You do know I am an adult, I can make my own decisions and I book my own time accordingly, right?"

"Oh, come on. Do you know how long it has been since you were out there, your name on everyone's tongue as they wondered what you would do next? You went up against better talent in the industry and held your own in the past. Why not do it again?" Hugh asked.

"Yeah, there are some great names associated with this match. You get to face people like Chris "BDC" Defoe." Elias said.

"Who?" I asked.

"Ah, I see. All right, how about APW's own Sally Talfourd?" Elias asked.

"Sounds like someone I crossed paths with in Des Moines but it isn't ringing a bell at all." I replied.

"The Cobra?" Hugh asked.

"Nope, can't say I know him. I remember a few Asps, one Rattler and the Python twins who could do some amazing things by contorting their bodies but no Cobra."

"Let's go over the list then." Elias said while unfolding a piece of paper.

"How many people are in the match, boys?"

"I heard there will be forty-one, barring anything catastrophic. Did you want us to do something to make it dangerous? I like dangerous!" Elias said.

"All right boys, I am going to go over this once and then I am going to ask you both to leave so I can enjoy my brunch while I still have the ability to eat. I appreciate what you two did for me. I know you wanted me to get back to the glory days when I lived as a bad man with a bad attitude and ran roughshod over an unsuspecting federation and carving out my place in history. While it is a grand dream to have, I have changed for the better. I am not about the flash and glitter but the chance to grow and change and I'm glad you gave me this chance to do something different."

"They did something right?" Zyrah asked from behind me.

"Yes they did, even a broken clock is right twice a day. I'll go into the ring and give it my best with no expectations on the outcome. I am a marked man from my days with the mask on so it won't change when it comes to wrestling in this match. I'm sure I'm going to hear some complaining from the bosses about taking a risk like this after winning the World Heavyweight title. All the same, it will be good to do something for the federation and if it draws a few more viewers, I did my part." I replied.

My brothers looked at each other as if they saw a ghost; they weren't used to me acting this way. They waited to see if I would explode in fury about being set up for a match like this but I picked up my coffee and calmly sipped the contents, my body never moving. Elias and Hugh shrugged, I never knew what the shrug between them meant but I guessed it usually implied they were upset I didn't put up a fight. Elias walked over to Hugh and motioned for him to follow.

As my brothers disappeared from the house, I turned to Zyrah and smiled at her while she pulled out the frozen waffles from the grocery bag. She turned to me after a few moments, feeling my stare digging into her skull.

"Let me guess..." Zyrah said.

"Yep, you get to work some overtime today. I need to get whatever information I can on the people in the match, what their mindset is, who they had dinner with in the last month, what they charged on their cards for Christmas. I want everything I can on these people."

"Why me?" Zyrah whined.

"It's a belated Christmas present from my brothers, they decided to get me into this mess and we are going to have to work hard to make it bear fruit."

"But..."

"Hey, at least you don't have to sit through footage, interviews and excerpts to try and find some sort of weakness in their game. You get the easy part. Now, I'm going to get myself some breakfast and try not to hunt down and kill my siblings. I expect to see a weakness list on my desk by the time I get back."

["The Madman" Ebon]

[glow=limegreen,2,300]“Born Better”[/glow]

(The scene opens with Ebon sitting in a darkly lit room behind a metal table with his hands folded over a manila envelope, a single light bulb hangs over head and a zippo lighter sits on the table to his right.)

Ebon: How apropos that my first Pay-Per-View since I made my triumphant return to professional wrestling is named after me. Survive and Conquer, let’s break that down. The first word; Survive. The principle at the very core of human genetics, we are bred to survive, it is the purpose of this species. However some of us are better than others some are born dead, not even able to survive outside of the womb, some live long lives, but it’s not by faith or some other divine intervention that this happens. The one’s that survive are superior; faster, stronger, and smarter. The slow, weak, and stupid get picked off by the lions and in this match, I’m the lion. The fans are going to think they are on safari in Africa as they watch me pick off the sick, injured, and weak. We’ve arrived at our second word; conquer. It’s all I’ve ever done, whether it’s MMA, Pro Wrestling, Amateur wrestling, any arena I’ve entered, any hardship I’ve faced, any competition that’s been presented to me throughout my life, I’ve conquered. Failure is not in my DNA. A match like this doesn’t come down to skill, the winner isn’t going to be the most charismatic, and the winner isn’t going to be the most impressive physically, the person that wins this match is the one that is all encompassing. I embody that, I am genetically superior to every other so-called competitor that dares to enter the ring that night. That is what is going to be the difference in this match. Charlie’s not going to help out; he’s never left Long Island, and refuses to do so.

(Ebon opens the manila folder and pulls a picture out of BDC and holds it up to the camera after closing the folder)

Ebon: I have a few old “friends” in this match, but none know me quite as well as “The Welsh Warrior”. My old buddy BDC and I have gone toe to toe all over the world, this is one of those rivalries that transcend there sport, Baseball has Yankees and Red sox, Football has Patriots and Colts, Hockey’s got Capitals and Penguins, and Professional Wrestling has Ebon and BDC. Add up all our matches and we’ve spilled enough of each other’s blood to fill a blood bank two times over. There’s one thing though, I haven’t beat you yet, and I’ve tried every trick in the book, done every sort of preparation I could think of, and I’ve always come up short. Not this time, this time my mind is clear, I have nothing to lose. If I lose to you again big deal, it’s happened before, but this time will be different. Survive and Conquer will be different. I am going to turn this show into a cathartic experience, people have told me that I must get off on violence, and some like to sum it up by calling me a “sick fuck”. Well, they can’t all be wrong there’s something to this, something I genuinely enjoy, every aspect, the buildup, the struggle, the gratification at the end of a match when I survey the carnage that surrounds me. I imagine the feeling is similar to that of a father gazing upon his child for the first time, knowing that it’s something I created and in my eyes it will always be perfect. Survive and Conquer will be perfect, because at the end of the night I will be standing tall in the ring and you will be just one of 39, one of 39 other wrestlers that will go home that night knowing that I am better than them, that in the grand scheme of things they may not be so great, maybe they are just ordinary. That’s all you are BDC, ordinary.

(Ebon takes the lighter to BDC’s picture and sets it on fire, and then throws it into a waste basket on the floor to his left. He takes another picture out and reveals a picture of Pence Weatherlight.)

Ebon: Pence Weatherlight, another familiar face from my storied past in the EWC. Our paths never did cross with any grand matches or feuds, but I have followed you career closely, and I must say, you’ve done some impressive things. Unfortunately Pence there is one feather you won’t be adding to your cap this year, Survive and Conquer is not yours to win, it’s not your time, the stars aren’t aligned Pence. Hey, kid there’s always next year but you’re going to have to take a back seat this time around junior, now I know you think you’re a big shot in APW, you consider yourself a top dog, but those thoughts are only going to get you hurt at Survive and Conquer, you see I know your wheels are turning, your thinking, “Ebon, this prick, he’s got no respect for me, calling me a kid, calling me junior, I’ll show him.” PENCE! Let me stop you right there, because there’s nothing you have to offer me, there’s nothing that you are going to show me, at Survive and Conquer by the time you realize what hit you, the referee’s are going to be helping you to the back, cause you will be Knocked The Fuck Out.

(He lights the picture of Weatherlight and throws it away and moves on to another picture, this one being of Level One)

Ebon: Level One, YOU’RE THE HOTTEST FREE AGENT in wrestling. Big fucking deal, all that means to me is that after Survive and Conquer I won’t have any lawyers, any presidents, or chairmen, or general managers coming after me for destroying their biggest star. Honestly I don’t understand your appeal; you’re just a fat, lumbering, and idiot. Throwing you out of the ring won’t be difficult, your size isn’t going to play to your advantage, and in fact it will prove to be your downfall. You see, I’ve been studying jiu-jitsu and judo since I was a kid, leverage, the purpose of these disciplines is for a smaller man to use his larger adversaries size against him, I’ve been training for years for this Level One, you think a few weeks in the gym is going to help you, your sorely mistaken.

(Ebon repeats his process of setting the pictures ablaze and takes out the next picture, this one being of Victor Hades)

Ebon: Hades, quite possibly the only person in this match sicker then I am. You’re fucking crazy Victor. Quite honestly the second we are both in the ring together we are going to have to take each other out, our battle needs to be fought another day. The chaos we can cause together would transcend professional wrestling; it would go down in history and be remembered amongst such events like The Shootout at the O.K. Coral, The Battle of Thermopoli, or the last twenty minutes of “First Blood.” But Survive and Conquer isn’t the place for that sort of battle, Survive and Conquer is a battle within itself, but it’s a battle that will be one through attrition, not through violence, but someday. Someday Victor Hades our battle will be fought, and it will be one that will be remembered forever.

(Ebon lights Victor Hades’ picture on fire and opens the empty envelope up that has “The Rest” written on the inside of it)

Ebon: So now I lump the rest of you together, am I overlooking you? Hell yeah I am, reason being is your insignificant. Your stamp on this match is that you will be one of 40, that’s what you will be remembered for, no one will remember the fourteenth person eliminated.

(Ebon stands up and points at the camera)

Ebon: You’re nothing more than a footnote, you will be unceremoniously dumped from the ring, and that will be the end of your fifteen moments of fame, no one will remember you. Those of you hoping this will be there big break have placed your faith and hopes up against insurmountable odds, and you will falter and crack underneath the pressure.

(Ebon crumples the manila folder and throws it in the garbage can, picks up the zippo and throws it in the can)

Ebon: Your hopes, your dreams, they’re up in flames. Survive and Conquer, I Will.

(Ebon punches the light bulb engulfing the room in darkness and ending the promo)

[jtcash]

It is mid week in Las Vegas and J.T. Cash, just having returned from a mini holiday vacation in Maine is in the living room of his suite at the Bellagio trying to catch up with his mail. He tosses all of the bills into one pile, junk mail into another. As he continues the process he stops as he looks at a yellow envelope with the letter APW boldly displayed in the upper left hand corner.

“APW? What the hell are they sending me stuff for?”

J.T. uses his thumbnail to carefully open the flap of the envelope. He removes the single piece of paper in the envelope and opens it. It is an invitation to sign up for the interfederation event called Survive and Conquer. J.T., now intrigued, continues to read. 5th annual Survive and Conquer match. 40 wrestlers from various federations, one winner $500,000. As he continues to scan the paper he also sees it is being held right here in SCW’s backyard, Las Vegas Nevada. J.T. rubs his chin as he ponders about what he has just read. If memory serves him right the SCW has had some guys enter this over the years. Some have done pretty well. Should he do it? The only thing that troubles him is who is sponsoring the event. Action Packed Wrestling. Not exactly the SCW’s favorite federation. A few of SCW wrestlers walked away from us and signed with them. Pence Weatherlight and Cid Pheonix to name two. J.T. neatly folds the paper and puts it in his pocket and walks out onto his patio that overlooks the fountains at the Bellagio in Las Vegas.

“I really want to do this. I want to represent the SCW in this match. 2010 was such a good year for me that to enter this match and really do well, would make the start of 2011 over the top. But can I convince Danny to let me do it? Would he even care if I did? Do I really even need his permission anyway? I guess the right thing to do would to at least let him know.”

J.T. exits his suite and heads for the elevator. Once in, he put his key into the override slot turns it and presses basement. The “basement” is actually the SCW arena area. Being a resident at the Bellagio J.T. has a key allowing his access to the arena from the elevator. The elevator stops and J.T. exits. As usual the arena is not empty. There are always workers doing routine maintenance or repairs. Locker rooms are being cleaned and sanitized. Wrestlers use the gym and ring for workouts. J.T. heads down a small hallway and stops in front of the door to the owner of the SCW, at least for the moment, Danny Tenegra aka M.D.K. M.D.K., which stands for “Murder, Death, and Kill”, doesn’t really want to own the SCW, but he did win it on a bet and now he intends to sell it off for a profit. J.T. knocks and M.D.K. grunts a “Come in” from the other side. J.T opens the door and enters. M.D.K. looks up and is surprised to see J.T. standing in front of him.



“What the hell do you want?”

J.T. tosses the Survive and Conquer invitation onto M.D.K.’s desk in front of him. M.D.K. picks it up, slowly opens it, slowly folds it back up, and set its down.

“Why the bloody hell did you show me that?”

“I just wanted to let you know I am entering it.”

M.D.K.’s eyes go wide.

“Seriously? You?”

“Ryan Ruckus, AC Thunder, they have represented SCW in this event. Guys like Doug and Wolf have represented us in other tourneys. I just feel like this is the right time for me to represent SCW. Look at what I did last year. The Global title, a record tying 5th tag team title, 4 end of the year awards including most improved. I feel like I can represent SCW and make us proud. Plus I have never done anything like this before. It’s my turn.”

“Look J.T. to be totally honest I don’t care if you enter this thing or not. What I do care about is someone going into one of these things representing SCW and then making us look foolish.”

“Are you saying that you don’t think I can win this thing?”

“Win? Don’t be bloody stupid mate! Ryan Ruckus and AC Thunder have been in this and neither one of them won it. Last year I was in it and I didn’t even make it to the final four. In my opinion we are far better than you. Look, you can enter this thing if you want, but if you make the SCW look foolish by getting knocked out early, I will make your life a living hell when you come back. Am I clear?”

J.T. leans in the desk and gets good and close to M.D.K.

“I wouldn’t be entering this if I didn’t think I had a chance of doing well. As far as making the SCW look foolish your doing a damn good job of it that all on your own.”

“Fuck you. Get out of my office.”

J.T. cracks a wry smile before turning and heading out of Tenegra’s office slamming the door behind him.




We are in the office of Drakos, the general manager of Club Sin City, and J.T.’s former tag team partner. J.T. and his ex-fiancé turned manager Amber are also there.



“Well I’m dying to hear what you both think.”

J.T. has just told them he is going to enter the Survive and Conquer match. Drakos hands the paper over to Amber.

“Dude I like it. Makes me almost want to come out of retirement and give it a try. Where did you get that anyway?”

“The APW mailed to me.”

“Top prize is half a million. Not bad.”

“I’m not in it for the money. You should know that.”

“Duh. I realize your in it to win it.”

“I’m in it to make a name for myself outside of SCW like Doug, Ryan, and M.D.K. have done. It’s time the world gets to know who J.T. Cash is.”

"Reading this battle royal part, A lot of this is going to hinge on where you get drawn in.”

“I realize that. But even I get a low draw, if I just keep it smart and don’t do anything foolish, let my opponents make the mistakes, I think I can hang in there til the final four.”

“Imagine if you win this thing? The SCW would have to kiss your ass!”

“Like anyone would kiss my ass. Look I just want to make a good showing is all.”

“What do you need from us?”

“The only thing I need is your support. I plan on getting you ringside seats.”

“Dude I’m there!”

“You know I will be too.”

“Much appreciated, really.”

“I’ll make sure we have the PPV on here.”

“That’s sure to pack the club for the night.”

“Didn’t think of that. Sweet. I‘m making money off myself.”

J.T. has decided he needs to set up an interview to be sent to the APW offices. He needs to let his competiton hear what he has to say about entering the Survive and Conquer match. The only two that can handle this interview are SCW’s own Wednesday Night Wildcard announce team, Oscar Cruize and Courtney Reynolds.



The set is set up so Oscar will be on J.T.’s right and Courtney on the left.




Both are on set looking over their list of questions as J.T. enters. J.T. is wearing jeans, a black T-Shirt with the SCW logo on it, and a gray sports coat. He shakes Oscars hand and gives Courtney a hug before taking his seat between them.

(Off Camera): Were taping in five, four, three, two, one……..

“Hello wrestling world I am the voice of SCW Wednesday Night Wildcard, Oscar Cruize.”

“And I am the one you all tune into see, Courtney Reynolds. With us today is a man who had a very good year in the ring in 2010, J.T. Cash. J.T. as always it is very good to talk to you.”

“It is good to sit down with the two of you. Been awhile.”

“From the announcement you made at Wildcard, it looks like you are trying to start off 2011 with a real bang. Tell us why you decided to enter the Survive and Conquer match.”

“Well first and foremost I decided that it is time that I do something to represent the SCW. In the past we have had guys like AC Thunder, Ryan Ruckus, Doug E Fresh, and Wolf to name a few, compete in interfed tourneys. Some have done really well. I decided after the year I had it is time for me to represent SCW in a tournament just like they did. When I opened that envelope and read about the Survive and Conquer match, I knew I had to be a part of it.”

“You do know you’re not the first to enter this tourney from the SCW?”

“Oh I know. I’m following some pretty big names. M.D.K., AC Thunder and Ryan Ruckus.”

“Last year Ryan almost won it.”

“And M.D.K. came in 5th.”

“Yes I know they both did really well. They made the SCW proud with their efforts. I have some pretty big names to follow.”

“Do you honestly think you can do as well as them?”

“I wouldn’t be entering the Survive and Conquer if I didn’t. I honestly believe I have what it takes to make it to the final four.”

“What about beyond that?”

“I look at it this way Court. Everything about this match is about skill and a whole lot of luck. Lets start with the battle royal part. We start with two and from there every minute someone new enters. First thing is you have to be extremely lucky with the draw. If I get drawn number one, my chance of winning go down to near zero. The further in I get drawn tho the better my chances. That goes for anyone in this match. There are a few people in this match who have little experience in the ring to date, but if they get number 40, they have a damn good chance of moving on to the final four.”

“Lets take two scenarios. First one you get the draw of number 5. The second, number 30. Your strategies would be different for each correct?”

“Yes. If I get the number 5 draw I am going in more defensive than if I get number 30. If I get the number 5 draw I am going to have to survive 35 other guys entering. The guys who get the higher draw are immediately coming after the guys who have been there awhile because they will be tired and beat up. If that is me then I am going have to do what I can to survive. If I get the 30 draw then I will be one of the guys going after the early draws. The biggest key in either case if to be smart. One mistake and your ass is being tossed over the rope and your gone.”

“From there you have a cage match.”

“If he makes it that far.”

“Oscar!”

“It’s OK Court. He’s just being realistic. A cage match that is not your typical cage match. Instead of one person trying to escape to win three of the four have to escape to advance. The odds on continuing on are actually better than the battle royal part.”

“Your one of the four in the cage. What would be your strategy to be one of the three to get out of the cage?”

“Get out first.”

“J.T. made a funny.”

“No seriously if I make it that far then my strategy would be just that, get out as quickly as possible. Pinning your opponent, making them submit is useless so get out and get out quick. If you want a more defined strategy, it would be to go after the one person who was in the battle royal the longest and try and incapacitate him or her so you can make your escape. Basically the first chance I get I am looking for an opening to escape whether it be thru the door or over the top.”

“Next is a falls count anywhere street fight.”

“The final three, who will be beaten, possibly bloodied, and exhausted will battle it out all over the arena. At this point you have to be thinking let them battle it out and I’ll just sit back and watch. But the other two will be doing the same thing. At this point you can either be the agressor and try and be the one gets the pin or submission, or be the one who tries to sit back. For me at this point depends on how I feel. If I have been beaten pretty decently to this point, I am going to try and sit back and get some recoup time. However if I am lucky enough to be someone unscathed than I need to be the agressor on whoever is the weakest one left. You also have to remember it is a street fight so anything goes. Weapons, outside help, or whatever your near comes in to play. You have to avoid being in that situation.”

“Last part of thie match is another cage, but this time its totally different.”

“We here in SCW have the cage of endurance, and this is somewhat similar to it. You don’t have three levels like the cage of endurance, but the object is the same. Break thru the cage somehow, climb to the top and grab whatever will be hanging above it to win. The last two in this match are going to be running on pure adrenaline. Your body is going to be screaming at you in pain. Your not going to be thinking straight. But somehow, someway, you have to find the inner strength to break thru the cage and then climb it. Every last drop of energy, every last ounce of strength will be used to do this. That is why they call it Survive and Conquer.”

“Going back to the 40 men and women in this match, you don’t really know much about them. As they obviously don’t know much about you. How does that play in to this match? Does the smaller person have a better chance than the bigger person? Do the men stand a better chance then the women?”

“You can throw most of that out the window. In this kind of match anyone can win. Again it all stars with the luck of the draw in the battle royal and goes from there. How hurt are you after the battle royal? Where did you enter and how long were you in the match? Do the bigger wrestlers stand a better chance in the battle royal? I don’t buy it. There are pleantly of wrestlers in this match that can easily handle the bigger ones. So to me this whole match is pretty even.”

“Does not knowing anything about your competition hurt or does it matter?”

J.T. cracks a wry smile as he reaches into the breast pocket of his blazer. He produces several papers stapled togther.

“Courtney you should know by now that I scout all my opponents. This list I have in my hand has the name, height, weight, and federation they belong to. It also has their accomplishments. So to answer your question I am fully aware of who my competition is.”

“I, for one, am extremely impressed.”

“You, for one, said before J.T. got here that this was a complete waste of time.”

J.T. shoots Oscar a look of, “do you want me to kick your ass now or later.”

“What? I never said, she made that up, I have always, SHUT UP COURTNEY!”

“Anyway. I have done my research. There are a few on this list who I think have a damn good chance to win it all and some who don’t. But I‘m only going to give you the names of those who I think has the best chance at winning this match and why OK with you both? ”

“Works for me.”

“Me too. Who is first?”

“Let’s start off with someone who I think could be a real dark horse. Her name is Sally Talfourd. She is 5’11” and weighs 145 pounds. She also is the current APW Heavyweight champion.”

“Wow. There is some serious competition over there and for her to be champion says something.”

“Yes it does, which is why I think she has a legitimate chance of being there at the end. She has already proven she can handle herself against the men so keep an eye on her.”

“OK who’s next?”

“Another APW wrestler Branden Harvey. 5’8” 140. The reason I find him to be a contender is that he has won seven world championships in seven different federations. That seems to be a difficult thing to do and if he can do something like that he can contend in this match.”

“I would have to agree. Next on the list?”

“A name we’ve all heard of, Level One. 6’7” 273 pounds. Three time APW World champion. A no doubt about it contender.”

“I remember him coming here for a few matches. Impressive for a big guy.”

“But will his height and weight be a disadvantage in a match like this?”

“Maybe for someone else, but not Level One. Moving on next we have the defending Survive and Conquer winner, Victor Hades. 6‘3“ 260 pounds.”

“Beat Ryan in the finals. The dude is badass and scary looking too.”

“You really thin he can win it two years in a row?”

“He wouldn’t be on my list if I didn’t. Next is Travis Miller. 6’3” 254. Multi time champion, went 23-0 in one fed. His biggest asset is his experience. Over ten years.”

“Sounds like a contender.”

“Next is Mike Park. 6’2” 225. Another one who has held multiple titles in multiple federations.”

“What kind of name is Mike Park? Pretty boring if you ask me.”

“Which again, no one did.”

“This next guy is another dark horse. Ebon the Madman. 6’4” 240 pound, originally from Minsk Belarus. This guy has won 36 tag team titles with one partner, to go along with multiple singles titles.”

“Holy shit!”

“Wow. Impressive.”

“Next on my list, and it pains the hell out of me to say this name, 6’1” 250 pounds, Pence Weatherlight.”

“Wow! There is actually someone in this match you have a history with!”

“Imagine if they were the last two!”

“As much as I hate the guy, and think he is a total douche, he has won two APW heavyweight titles and he was our United champion as well.”

“Any others?”

“One. Last on my list, last years runner up, Ryan Ruckus.”

“Ryan has entered?”

"Seriously that’s huge!”

“He has, and it is huge. Even though he hasn’t been an active wrestler he has to be considered a top contender based on what he has done in the past. I’ve been around Ryan for many years and one thing you never do is count Ryan out, of anything.”

"So we’ve heard your startegies, heard you talk about the competiton, but I think right now we really need for you to look right into that camera and address everyone in this match. They need to hear what J.T. Cash is thinking.”

J.T nods in approval of the idea. He takes a huge breath and exhales slowly. He stares dead into the camera and begins.

“My name is J.T. Cash. I represent Sin City Wrestling. For those of you who have entered the Survive and Conquer match and don’t know who I am, I want you to take a second and look over my accomplishments. Go ahead I’ll wait. Better yet, let me tell you about them. I have held fifteen titles here in the SCW, where I have been since it’s inseption. I have won every single title there is to offer. Last year I won the biggest of them all the Global Heavyweight belt to complete the grand slam. I am in the SCW hall of fame. Voted in by my peers. I have won awards. But this match is by far the biggest thing I have ever done in my career. A career where I always seem to be the underdog. The guy who no one ever thought would ever be Global champion let alone the United or Intecontinental. I was the guy who would always be the Tag champ or TV champion. But every time someone doubted me or my abilities I proved them wrong. Don’t believe me? Ask one of your own, Pence Weatherlight. At Survive and Conquer I will once again prove everyone wrong. I will not only prove that J.T. Cash is one of the best wrestlers around today, I will prove why SCW is the best federation going today. I am following in the footsteps of some of our greatest talent to enter this match. AC Thunder. M.D.K. And last years runner-up, Ryan Ruckus. On Sunday night January 30th I will be one of the 40 competitors who step into a ring and try to win 500,000. For me this match isn’t about the money. Hell I have more money than I know what to do with. To me this is all bout getting my name out there into the world. For everyone to hear the name J.T. Cash and to realize that I am the future of this business. I am young, athletic, and in pristine physical condition. I am the relection of perfection. I fear no man or woman. I don’t care if you’ve won multiple world championships. I don’t care if you are your federations World champion right now. This match isn’t about who has done what or when. This match is about Surviving and Conquering. I am the ultimate survivor. I have survived being pushed to the bottom of the roster. Survived a federation takeover. Survived some ruthless money-hungry owners. Survived in matches where no one thought I could. Survived a match where I was thrown thru a plate glass window and a fall from 3 stories high. Survived a cage match against a homicidal, maniacal, crazed man, who wanted to tear the flesh right off my body. I have done it all, but 2011 is the year I do so much more, and it starts with the Survive and Conquer match.”

J.T. pauses and takes a breath before continuing.

"We have 40 wrestlers representing over a dozen federations from all over the world. The biggest thing going for me in this match is that it is being held right here in the backyard of SCW, Las Vegas Nevada. Think about it. Who do you think the hometown favorite will be? Who do you think the jammed packed crowd will be cheering on? And you can bet that I will be buying several front row tickets so my roster mates can be right there front and center cheering me on. Like me or not I’m representing their company and as a company we stand together. Last year at this time I said 2010 would be the year of J.T. Cash and it was. 2011 is going to be even bigger and better and it starts with this match. It starts with me and three others in a cage. It starts with me and two others ina street fight. It starts when I beat the final competitor and win the 2011 Survive and Conquer match! Bank On It!!"

The camera zooms in on the steely stare of J.T. before slowly fading out to black.

[JD Storm]

Scene opens in a studio, set up much like would be scene for lottery drawings. The “Survive & Conquer” banner is hanging in the background. A poker table is set up on the right hand side of the poster. Dressed in a dark outfit (slacks, dress shoes, dress shirt), The Gambler stands behind the poker table. Gambler is finishing up dealing out cards to several empty spots at the table. Each spot has five cards, face down. Where Gambler is standing is also five cards, face up, showing a royal flush.

Gambler
Belly up to the table, boys & girls. Just keeping myself busy until I can get enough people to join the game. Gambling isn’t any fun if you don’t have anyone to gamble with….or against. The more people you have to beat, the higher the stakes are, the more thrilling the game is. Doesn’t matter if it’s a friendly football pool at your office or it’s high stakes poker. There’s a certain thrill, an adrenaline rush when you gamble.

As much as I love a great game of cards, betting on the ponies or even betting on the big games, nothing beats the ultimate gamble. Climbing in the ring every week, hearing the crowd’s reaction, getting the arm raised in victory; nothing beats the rush. Nothing beats the rush of knowing that at any moment, you can become king of the mountain.

What better way to get to the mountain top then by winning APW’s inter-promotional Survive & Conquer Battle Royal? Forty competitors. Only one can win. The winner gets far more then simple name recognition. Five Hundred Grand is on the line. Half a million bucks.

For most wrestlers, that’s a lot of money to play with. That’s a kind of payday that most of us have wet dreams over. The boys in the different big leagues, over the years, have often played hell getting paydays like this. Takes a major event to see this kind of payday. I’ve been in a few serious promotions and never saw this kind of payday. Even as a champion, I never had this level of payday for one match. And yet, I can achieve that in one match.

This is easily the biggest match of my career. That says a lot, as I’m no stranger to big matches. I’ve held a few championships in my career. I’ve been in numerous title matches during my career. I’ve faced competitors of all skill levels, sizes, rookies & legends. You name it, I’ve faced just about any kind of competitor you can name.

Having this many talented wrestlers in the ring like this will make the risks great. The risks are nothing in comparison to what can be gained. Half mil in cash. The prestige of winning. Winning such an event will make me a highly valuable member of the IWC roster. SNW will recognize me and my boys as the greatest stable to ever exist. My manifest destiny will finally be complete.

The first part of my destiny has been set in stone. Our first gamble was to see when we’d enter the match. Out of forty competitors, I drew #33. Not the best number to draw, but still a pretty sweet spot to get. A large majority of the opponents will already be worn out. All I have to do is pick up the pieces for most of them. Those that join after me will have a short stay.

It’s just a matter of out smarting the a few of the idiots coming into the match after I join. Once a few of them are outwitted, and believe me, it will happen, the match switches gears. Survive & Conquer is a bit of a wildcard match, going from a Royal Rumble match to a Fatal 4way steel cage match. Then after 3 of us are smart enough to escape, it’s a 3 way street fight. After that, a ladder match. The winner will climb the ladder of success, claiming the biggest prize in the game…..half a million dollars. Hell with titles. The money is far more important.

The best part of the show? I’ll win the biggest match of my career in my own hometown. I can have the glory in front of people that will actually appreciate my victory. Suppose there’s a bit of an irony with me winning the match in Vegas. A man that makes a living taking risks successfully takes the biggest gamble of his career in a city that was founded on such high stakes risks. Las Vegas’ native son is coming home to win one of the biggest matches in wrestling history.

The wrestling industry will never be the same again. Vegas sure as hell won’t be the same after this. Forty competitors are gambling on the thought that they’re the best. Only one will be successful. Only one can Survive & Conquer!

A close up of Gambler is shown as the scene fades slowly to black.

[Cid Phoenix]

GET READY!!!
by XXX

(Cameras fade in footage of Cid Phoenix facing Ryan Ruckus in a match during his stint as an SCW Superstar. As per ususal in their matches, Ryan nails Cid with a big finisher for the win.. Cameras pan out and reveal to us that we were watching the footage on a flatscreen. As the camera pans back & away from the flatscreen, a hand come to rest on the bottom right side of the screen, shutting it off. Camera continues to pan back to reveal, "XXX" Xander Fire smiling at us...)

XXX: That was just brutal! Did you the audience see that? Cid Phoenix, who used to rant and rave that he was going to be the hottest thing since the wireless mousepad, got himself planted by none other than Captain Baldness himself, Ryan Ruckus! Now those two are no strangers to eachother, as they've had their share of run-ins back when Cid was an SCW Faithful. But the bottom line is that Cid Phoenix merely became that which he portrayed... and that was a tool. He was a tool for SCW to use and abuse time and time again. Well, here we are again in 2011, and Cid Phoenix is gone. He's a memory, an afterthought... a passing joke. I am XXX, and I'm here to make sure that before this year is done and and swept under the carpet, the ENTIRE wrestling world, and APW especially, know just who in the hell I am! And of course, as I stare at the camerawoman, who probably doesn't even remember who Cid Phoenix was let alone who I am...

(XXX looks overhead at the camerawoman. Another camera captures her as she shrugs, then goes back to XXX, who shakes his head in frustration.)

XXX: Cid Phoenix was who I used to be, okay? You got that part? Yeah? Okay, good for you!

(He looks directly into the camera, not too shabby looking and displaying a focus that almost seems... robotic. He resumes talking.)

XXX: Anyway, kids! The moral of the story is that I used to be a self-centered, spoiled brat who walked around like the world owed me something! I fought hard, but I whined and complained and no one - absolutely no one, took me seriously! That was Cid Phoenix pre-2011, the laughing stock of the SCW! Oh my, how Vegas has had it's laugh at the expense of this wayward superstar that was Cid Phoenix!

(XXX's expression then slowly begins to shift from robotic, to angry as he continues to speak...)

XXX: But this is 2011, I'm XXX, and at Survive & Conquer, not only do I get the chance to try face Ryan Ruckus again and show him just how I've changed, I also get the chance to show the current APW Xtreme Champion, Diamante Valentine, how different Cid Phoenix is from who you see standing before you now, and even better that we get to do it in an Xtreme Blaze Of Glory Match - where in order to win, you have to set your opponent on fire! You see, Diamante, you were the last person ever to face the persona that WAS Cid Phoenix, and you got yourself a small taste of what XXX Fire is all about at Overdrive last week.. I'm not going to sugar coat it, Diamante, I'm going to be on the level with you.. I want your title. Pay attention to the name. I'm XXX Fire, formerly known as Cid Phoenix. This match is right up my alley! I'm going to go to such great lengths in our match to make sure that your title is no longer yours. I will attack and attack and attack until quite literally, there is nothing left for me to attack, and then I will lay you down to sleep, and pray your belt it is I keep..and it will be afterwards that you WILL feel the agonizing heat of defeat!

(XXX chuckles, as he moves closer to the camera.)

XXX: Nice rhyme.. Don't you think so, Champ?

(XXX then starts pacing. His expression then takes the form of utter excitement..)

XXX: But that's just one of the possible prizes that await me at Survive & Conquer! I get to join other superstars from different feds, and try my hand at winning an Inter-Promotional Contest and show that I am the best there is! And to tell you the truth, folks! I went down the line and saw that His Royal Baldness was actually the last entry in the tournament, and it lit a fire in my very soul. Ryan, you and I have had unfinished business since way back, and I promise you, that I will make it all the way to face you, it doesn't matter who I have to face - anyone from Sally Talford, to Level One to CJ Gates, to the Gambler, JT Cash, Jason Kash, Kip Kutler or even Chris Hart or Stephan Callaway!!! I will march forth with the fans behind me, screaming and cheering as I get rid of one superstar after another, finally culminating to a XXX Fire-Ryan Ruckus Showdown! And when that happens? People will finally get to see... XXX Fire standing alone in the ring, with hand raised like a true CHAMPION!!!


(XXX's expression seemingly becomes more serene and calm, as he closes the scenario. He only give the camera one last steely gaze, before finishing with...)

XXX: Get Ready, The World's Gonna Know All About Me Now!!!

~FIN~

[lillyrose]

The scene opens up on Lilly Rose standing in front of a black wall. She is wearing her normal street clothes, which consist of a pair of tight blue jeans, that show off her ass, along with a black t-shirt. She does not look pleased. She starts to talk.

Lilly: You know I got into wrestling because I loved the sport, I love wrestling, that was why I signed up for this match. Sad part though is, after signing up, and once I seen the card was put out, I noticed two people on the roster, and card. Makes me a little annoyed people like these two would be on the roster of such a good fed, but then I realized, they must not of pulled anything of their bullshit they pull in other places yet. Places where if they don't get their way, they whine, and bitch like little babies, places where if things don't go how they want them to go, they decide to post a promo that include a fuck you in the end of them, before they leave. Really, as long as they are here, you can count me out of this match. I'm not about to be anywhere with people like that. Say what you want, because in the end it won't matter, because I am out of here.

After she says that, she shakes her head, as she knew once again another fed would have to put up with two troublemaking people. She just walks away.


OOC: Jeff I'm sending you a pm on Kapow about my rp

[mikepark]

Vivere Est Vincere

Act I: In Inceptum Finis Est

Life is full of obstacles. Obstacles that take time to overcome. Some take luck, but regardless, skill is the most important factor in overcoming these obstacles. The biggest obstacle one must face, however, is themselves. Because you are your own worst enemy. It is you who decides how you face your obstacles, either head-on or through other means. You are who you are. And sometimes, accepting this can be something that can drive you to brink of insanity. And in due time, if you’re not careful, completely over the...

...edge. There I stood against the edge, gazing downwards at the city streets with the moon’s surreal haze beaming down onto me, lighting up the building I stood atop of. This was a day I wasn’t going to soon forget. A day where jumping and having my blood and body washed away by life’s endless current seemed like a good idea. At least when compared to what I was about to do.

But jumping was not going to do any good. Not for an adrenaline junky like myself. Oh no. Not when there was something lingering in the distance, through the shadowy plain and onwards, past lives more corrupt than mine and blessings more false than my own. There was a foreboding obstacle that made me foam at the mouth in anticipation. Something I had been looking forward to for quite some time. The chance to survive and conquer. The spectacle of marching into war and doing battle with warriors more blood drunk than even the most barbaric of warmongers. This test. This goal. This opportunity was not going to pass me by. Its very mention on any medium was enough to make my heart race and mind freeze. It was just that deadly. Just that much of a rush.

That night, I walked through the busy city streets, populated by whores, dealers and gamblers. Las Vegas. A city I had walked through many times. Seeing it for all it had to offer. Casinos. Sex. Lust. Sins. And oh so importantly, victims. Everyone in the city was a victim. Every last person.

Gently, I felt my gun holster under my trench coat and ran my index and middle finger along it. Oh, the rush it gave me. Such a rush. Like that moment right before an orgasm – those final five to fifteen seconds coursed through my veins and a cold, grim smile emerged on my face. However, it was quick to disappear as I made a right-hand turn into an alleyway and met up with my ‘partners’.

“Everyone ready?” a tall, thirty-something-year-old man named Joe asked, carrying a duffle bag in one hand and a sub-machinegun in the other. Surrounded by him were two African American brothers who sported black leather jackets and baldheads – they looked more like twins than brothers born three years apart. Their names were Wayne and William. Don’t ask me which was which. Then, there was some ginger-haired, freckle-faced, glasses-wearing nut named Eugene. Yeah, his name suited him perfectly.

“Look who finally decided to show up?” Eugene glared at me through his oval-shaped glasses. The two black brothers looked up at me too, while Joe, the leader of the group smiled and chuckled briefly.

“It’s good to see you, Park. I was worried you weren’t going to show,” Joe grinned and sighed under his breath. “We were just about to go in without you.”

“Glad you didn’t. I got here as fast as I could,” I told him, looking at the two brothers, Wayne and William – their eyes were brown with a hint of red in them, not caused by a lack of sleep.

“I still don’t believe you don’t want any of the money. I still think this is a setup,” Wayne harshly said with a deep voice. “Shit doesn’t seem right.”

“He’s in it for the rush,” Joe told him. “Besides, if he did set us up...” he paused, pointing his weapon at me. “Bastard’s going to get what’s coming to him.”

“Easy,” I softly spoke. “My payday will come later. But not with you guys. I have five-hundred-thousand dollars to win. If I can get through this, then I can get through anything.”

“Wait? Where have I heard that before? What wrestling show did you say you were on?” William asked in a baffled tone.

“It’s a one-time deal. Listen, I have my own reasons for helping you guys. Understand? If you don’t want me, I can find another way to prepare for this match.”

“No,” Joe quickly spoke. “You wanted in. You got it. The rest of you, treat Park like he’s one of us. Because he is. For this, motherfuckers, he is. Got it?” The alley got silent, but everyone nodded their heads in agreement, not wanting to mess with Joe. “Good.”

“Okay, in three minutes then, we’re doing this. No ifs, ands or buts, we’re going in. And we’re leaving richer than ever. They’re never going to know what hit them. Las Vegas will never be the same,” Eugene smiled innocently and mingled his fingers together in devious fashion.

“This had better work,” Wayne pouted.

“It will,” Joe insisted. “Mark my words. It will.”

“Mine too,” I added. “You have no idea what this means to me. These opportunities. These chances. These... miracles, if you will. They don’t happen every day. To be given this. Handed this. To be able to take part in what could possibly be the greatest heist the world has ever seen in years – I can’t explain this. If I help you guys, then I can guarantee, you’ll be helping me.”

“You want to win that match that badly, huh?” William asked.

“More than anything. Entering at number two – it means I’m just as much the underdog as entrant number one. But that doesn’t mean anything. What we’re about to do... it’s on the exact same level as winning Survive and Conquer. And at the end of the day, when it’s all said and done, people are going to know my name,” I spoke confidently and assuredly.

“It’s time,” Eugene emphatically exclaimed. “Let’s rock and roll!”

Act II: Lupus in Fabula

We wandered through a dark, shadowy tunnel in single-file with our weapons glued to our sides and our attention focused straight ahead. We were entering the casino from a back door, which, oddly enough, Joe happened to have security clearance for. I could hardly see through my mask, but a part of me was able to see just fine. That part of me, you see, was the part of me who knew that what I was doing was going to pay dividends later on.

“Okay, this is it. Everyone know the game plan?” Joe asked, looking at all of us with his black, woolly, cotton mask covering his face. No one dared to shake their head, and I could see his mask stretch from where his mouth was under it – no doubt the result of him smiling like a lion. “Let’s go.”

We entered. And we made our mark.

“Everyone on the floor, NOW!” William and Wayne screamed, running ahead with weapons drawn, causing men and women inside the casino to scream and panic, but drop to the floor regardless.

“Put your weapons down, officers!” Joe shouted towards two security officers who were positioned on the far right-hand side of the poker room with weapons drawn. “We won’t ask you again!” I added. Slowly, they put their weapons on the floor, allowing Eugene to scoop them up into his own duffle bag.

“Where’s the safe?” Wayne asked, walking past rows of people who had their heads hidden on the floor. Wayne and William looked on for anyone who may have had clearance for the safe. As they did, I too made my move and headed towards a front desk of the poker room where a woman sobbed innocently, breathing deep, trying not to cry. “You. You have clearance, correct?”

“It’ll all be okay. It’ll all be okay. It’ll all be okay. Blue toothbrush. Blue ocean. Green grass. It’ll all be okay. It’ll all be okay,” the woman told herself over and over again, trying to think happy thoughts.

“Shut the fuck up, bitch!” Eugene shouted, putting his weapon right against her head. “We’re here to get in and get out. Now!” he slammed his left hand onto the desk with a closed fist and leaned in really close to the woman. “Do you have clearance for the safe, you stupid, fucking whore?!”

“Geez, cut down on the language will you? Would it kill you to say please?” I asked. Joe looked at me and laughed, but Eugene didn’t find my comment too amusing with his snare.

“Get over here, Park. Come here,” he told me, waving his right hand and fingers towards himself as he took a few steps back. I walked in closer and he whispered into my ear. “What the FUCK are you doing? She has clearance, I can tell.”

“How can you tell?” I asked.

“Did you see the way her eyes glazed when I asked her if she had clearance? It’s a tell,” he hissed.

“A tell? Like in poker? Buddy, she hands out chips for a living and deals with sociopaths like you all day; I think she can play you like a violin.”

“Does she look Asian? She couldn’t play a violin to save her life!” Eugene groaned.

“Well, maybe if you didn’t point a gun to her head, we’ll get somewhere!” I cried.

“Excuse me, Miss,” Joe approached the woman, taking off his black mask and placed it on the side. “Look up. It’ll be okay, I promise.” Slowly, the woman looked up at Joe. “Now, I don’t mean to be rude or anything, especially to a fine lady such as yourself, but if you don’t help us get to the safe, then my little nephew is going to die of ADHD. He needs a lot of Ritalin so he’ll calm down and his head won’t explode. Attention deficit high definition is a very rare and ugly disease.”

“Do I look like an idiot to you?!” she roared.

“Fucking hell,” Wayne and William said in unison, both approaching the woman, pointing guns to her head. “Give us the goddamn clearance, or we’re going to fold you like seven-douse and rip you in half! You bitch! Please, you fucking bitch, please, give us the clearance!”

“Well, since you said please,” she said, digging into her pocket, handing William her key card with the words ‘Safe 1A, Floor 3’ on it.

“Thank you!” Wayne sighed, running with Joe and his brother towards the stairs, leaving Eugene and I by ourselves.

“Told you. Please and thank you get you places,” I snapped, jumping behind the desk, looking over the woman’s computer monitor and options. “Well, since the police will be here soon...” I grabbed the mouse and clicked an option to lock all the doors leading into the building. “That should do the trick.”

“Can’t believe Joe thought telling her that his nephew had ADHD would work,” Eugene laughed as we both ran up the stairs to join the others.

“Yeah, he could have said he had cancer or something. He didn’t even say what ADHD stands for properly. High definition? What the hell?” I asked in a baffled tone.

“The guy wants a new TV. I can’t blame him,” Eugene replied as we both met up with the others on the third floor.

Wayne, William and Joe all had their backs to Eugene and I as we reached the top of the stairs. For some reason, something didn’t seem right. No one was moving. At all.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“Drop your weapons!” someone yelled from a distance. I peered past William and Wayne’s shoulders and could see about fifteen security guards with weapons in-hand, aiming right for us. “I won’t ask you again! Put your weapons down!”

“Is a wrestling match really worth this, Park?” Joe asked me, gazing over his shoulder. “Or do you have something special planned?”

“It is,” I replied, digging into my trench coat. “And I always have something planned.”

“Put your weapon dow--” but before the man could finish, I made my move, grabbing a grenade, pulling the pin, and threw it across the room. Within mere seconds, one-half of the third floor was engulfed in smoke, and coughing echoed off the walls.

“Quick, shoot them in the legs!” Joe cried, picking his weapon off the ground and shot where the security guards were standing. Wayne and William did the same as Eugene and I joined the fray, firing down the long hallway, hitting slot machines and bodies. Pings and cries of pain were all that were heard for about thirty seconds, over the headache-educing screams of gamblers interrupted from doing what they did best on the third-floor concourse.

When the smoke finally settled, Eugene hopped a security barrier and began shutting down every camera inside the casino and deleted all the recorded footage of what was going on. Joe looked over his shoulder and gave him a pat on the back when he saw what he had done.

“Good job,” Joe told Eugene as Wayne handed him the woman’s keycard from downstairs and together, we all ran with them over towards where the safe was located, taking off our masks in the process.

“This is it,” Wayne grinned, as the card was swiped and the door opened, revealing thousands upon thousands of dollars for the taking. “Let’s get to work,” he added, running into the room and began sliding money into his duffle bag.

I began to watch from afar as the thieves did their thing, overcome with greed and intensity. As they collected the cash, I was on the lookout for any police or swat teams entering the area. I began to walk towards a window just outside the safe room and gazed out of it. There was a swirling noise. A vibrating, swift, swirling noise that beamed like a ceiling fan.

“No...” I said under my breath. “Shit!” I exclaimed. There it was: a helicopter. I gazed down onto the streets as five swat cars pulled onto the premises and out emerged about five swat teams.

“What is it, Park?” Joe asked.

“We got company. And believe me when I say that some smoke isn’t going to do us one fuck of a lot!” I exclaimed. Wayne and William pumped their shotguns and smiled with their masks off, and placed black sunglasses on their faces, covering their eyes.

“This is going to be fun,” Wayne said, walking out with his brother towards the stairs, taking cover by two slot machines in close proximity. I nodded my head, and did the same thing, taking one of the confiscated guns an officer had earlier, and held it in my left hand, wielding two weapons. Joe flipped open his cell phone and pressed a single button.

“Rooney, we’ll be coming soon. Don’t leave yet,” and with that, he closed the phone. “Boys, take care of these guys and then meet Eugene and I at the rendezvous point. Got it?”

“Yes sir,” Wayne hollered just as the swat team began to tiptoe up the stairs, unaware of their fate. “What a rush,” William softly said.

“What a rush indeed,” I was inclined to agree.

“Ready,” William began. “Three... two... one...”

Act III: Momento Mori

Bodies fell and blood was spilt. Cries were in vain, and there was nothing anyone could do about it. No shot was lethal. No one died. But thirty lives flashed before their owners’ lives, and so did mine.

Light flashes blinded me as I shot down the stairs, taking down any swat team member who made their way up. And one-by-one, they toppled down, eliminated from the confrontation by my hands. It was quite a feeling. A rush. Like your first-ever high. That’s what it was like. That’s why I kept on going.

“Bring them down!” a swat captain shouted to his men who dropped like flies. I could see the man in my sights, and aimed my weapon and fired, hitting him directly in the knee. “Aghhh!” he cried, holding his knee in pain as Wayne, William and I continued to shoot, tearing the casino to shreds in the process.

“Fall back!” they yelled, retreating from the scene leaving my teammates and I to soak in the moment of living to fight another day. Once the final swat team member was out of sight, we quickly made our way out of dodge and to the spot where Eugene and Joe had told us to meet them.

“Shooting swat teams, Jesus,” Wayne laughed as we ran with duffle bags filled with thousands upon thousands of dollars. “Never thought I’d see the day.”

“We’re not out of the woods yet,” I reminded them, keeping pace. “But I have to say, this was one hell of a battle royal. Kind of reminds me of... well, the match.”

“Still can’t believe you’re not taking any money,” William curiously said. “What is it about wrestling anyway? You think robbing a casino is good preparation for a wrestling match?”

We made a left turn and headed towards the top floor parking lot. “Yes,” I answered. “There’s a challenge in both. And the key to both is to survive and conquer. It’s just me versus the world. Well, sort of. None of you guys were too fond of me to begin with.”

“We still aren’t,” Wayne laughed. “But if we can get the hell out of here, mark my words, I’m buying a front row seat to see you in action.”

With that, we all made a dash towards the parking lot. We opened the door, stepped foot outside and saw Joe standing tall with two duffle bags full of cash. “Where’s Eugene?” I asked. “And where’s Rooney – the getaway man?”

“He gave me his money. Said he had errands to run,” Joe laughed and looked down over towards the edge of the top floor parking lot. “He was in quite a hurry. Tripped and fell.”

“Motherfucker,” Wayne swore. “I thought you were just going to take his money and tie him up or something.”

“He was quite resilient,” Joe smiled. “More for us.”

“Wait,” I began. “This was part of the plan? Take Eugene’s money?”

“We didn’t let you know because you weren’t after any money yourself,” William added. “Sorry. It’s who we are. It’s in our nature. Now, Joe, where’s Rooney?”

“He left me his car,” Joe grinned.

“Wait... you killed Rooney too? Damn, Joe, now you’re pushing it,” Wayne slapped his forehead. “I don’t believe this. Let’s hurry up and get the hell out of here.”

I began to shake in my shoes, but I walked with Wayne, William and Joe towards the car that belonged to Rooney. Wayne and William got into the front seats and handed Joe and I their duffle bags full of money. “Get in!” Wayne yelled, as I approached the back door, but Joe pulled me back, at the last second and threw me onto the ground.

“What the...” William began in a baffled tone, but just as he did...

BOOM!!!!

The car exploded just as Wayne turned the key. The car had been booby trapped with explosives. I watched on my knees as flames and debris were hurled into the air along with tires and a pair of glasses that belonged to either Wayne or William. Joe was quick to his feet and extended his hand.

“Thank you, good sir, I couldn’t have done it without you,” he smirked.

“It was a pleasure,” I replied, shaking Joe’s hand. Joe and I had planned it since the beginning. To trick the others into thinking we were all working together, only to backstab everyone at the last moment and take all the money for ourselves. The hard part was convincing the other members of the team that I was just in it to help me prepare for Survive and Conquer. Knowing full well that they didn’t want anyone else sharing the prize with them.

“We’ll work again sometime,” Joe laughed, walking towards a parked van and popped the trunk, grabbed some duffle bags and began to load them into the automobile. “Good luck in your match. You really think this compares? I’m sure one of those idiots probably asked you the same thing, but really, man-to-man, not man to dimwit – is it really the same thing?”

“Well Joe,” I began. “In Survive and Conquer, it’s every man or woman for his or herself. It’s all about being the last person standing and emerging victorious. It’s not about working together as a team, because in the end, no team is perfect. They all have their shortcomings. Their failures.”

“Then I’m sure you’ll do just fine,” he nodded and turned around, closed the trunk and began heading towards the front door.

“Don’t you see, Joe?” I asked, putting a gun to the back of his head. “It’s every man for himself. And guess what?”

“You son of a bitch...” he meekly said.

“It’s not about the money. It’s about being the last man standing.”

...
...
...

There I stood, on the edge, watching people, cars, and time fly on by. People are people. There was never going to be anything making us incapable of yearning for fame and fortune. Which is why in the end, you should never trust anyone. Not even your closest friends. Mentors. Or even your own family. No one is safe when an ultimate prize hangs in the balance.

To live is to die. But to survive... that’s another story. Because surviving is different than just living, competing and trying your best. Surviving means to last longer than anyone else. And to conquer everything the world throws at you. There really is no better feeling than reaching the top of the mountain and looked down at all the foes that had been vanquished in your wake.

To Survive. To Conquer.

Epilogue

The morning sun rose early that morning, but I was there to greet it with open arms and a smile on my face. Reports on the news were coming in fast and furious about a casino heist that ended with bloodshed, explosions, and all the money left on the top floor of the parking complex. And as I stood on the balcony of my hotel room, I listened to the reports, and each one told the story a different way. But the ending was always the same.

“The question remains... did someone survive? Police are still investigating.”

The answer, at least to most of the world, was going to remain a mystery. But when it was all said and done. When the sun rises and darkness fades. When the triumphant requiem booms in the background, followed by a thunderous applause, I was going to be the man basking in the glory. The one who prevailed. The one who came, saw and conquered. Veni, vidi, vici.
And as morning loomed, and as the battle drew closer and closer, I was standing by, waiting, speaking ever so softly under my breath. I was battle tested. Armed. Dangerous. And ready to win at all costs. Nothing was going to stop me. Not anyone. Not anything. No one. At the end of the day, I was going to be victorious. That was a promise.

Like a true warrior. Like a true survivor. Like a conqueror. Like a God.

To live is to conquer

[stephencallaway]

Stephen Callaway stands looking out a hotel room window overlooking a busy city. Lights shine from cars, nightclubs and the city streets. A pounding baseline echoes up from the nightclub. In contrast Stephen stands in a dark hotel room wearing a vest top, a pair of shorts and black fingerless gloves. In one hand he holds a glass of strawberry milk, in the other a cell phone. Stephen is illuminated only by the backlighting from the phone; the soft beeping of the keypad is the only sound in the darkened room. He presses a button and a soft, female voice on the phone tells him “Message sent.”

Moments later, a landline on a coffee table rings. Stephen quickly answers after just one ring to avoid waking anybody.

Stephen
“You can talk.”

Malcolm, the voice on the phone, is a friend from years ago. A fellow graduate from the SML Training class they were both in. They met then and are now ten years on are best friends. Malcolm even had a child with Stephen’s sister, Fiona. He’s living in Scotland these days.

Malcolm
“It’s eight AM over here. I’m getting ready for work right now. I can talk.”

Stephen
“I forget the time difference. In some areas it’s five hours, in others it’s six.”

Malcolm
“Why are you calling?”

Stephen
“Do I need a reason to talk to my best friend these days?”

Malcolm
“When you send messages saying you want to talk, yes. When you send me messages by text at eight my time which I know is three in the morning where you are, yes. Because you calling me at three in the morning your time tells me something’s up and you’re so bothered by it that you’re resorted to calling me.”

Stephen looks around the darkened room. Some would call it ‘Avoiding the Issue. His therapist would, and does. Stephen calls it ‘this room’s dark’. To provide light, he clicks a TV on and flicks the mute button. A woman in nothing but a thong lies on a bed squeezing her own breasts and talking on a phone. A phone number at the bottom is there to entice the viewer to call the girl using his credit card with the promise of it not appearing on the bill. His wife turns in her sleep so Stephen changes the channel. A music channel fills the screen, the flavour of the month boy band sing soundlessly.

Stephen
“I have a Royal Rumble style match in about a week from now.”

Malcolm
“Is that it? Come on Stephen, you’ve been in Rumbles and battle royals before. Did you seriously call me for that?”

A drunk below sings ‘Danny boy’ to the moon.

Stephen
It’s not like the usual. I can’t just go out there, do my thing and then complain on TV the next week if the result doesn’t go my way.”

Malcolm
“Why not? It’s what you usually do”

Stephen
“This is a one night only thing.”

Malcolm
“So what’s the problem? You go out there and do your thing. If it doesn’t go your way? Fuck it! It’s not like you’ll be back there.”

Stephen runs his fingertips over his freshly shaven chin.

Stephen
“When I say ‘It’s a one night thing’ I mean it’s a big thing. There’s about ten different companies all involved in this thing.”

Malcolm
“Anyone I know?”

Stephen
“Dunno, probably not. I know Kurt, Jeremy, Massa and Chris Hart have entered. They’re the only ones I know in it, you barely know them.”

Malcolm
“And you want to stand out. Macho pride getting in the way?”

Stephen
“No!”

Malcolm
“Uh huh. Why don’t you team with the ones you know and force a unit? Five on forty. Let everyone see the unity between the companies?”

Stephen laughs. A little louder than he wants to.

Stephen
“The two companies are fighting amongst themselves right now. Making a unit with that lot right now is like Vince McMahon coming out and saying he’s a TNA fan: !”

Malcolm
“Odds are someone’s watching it.”

Stephen
“I want to go in there and do a good job. The personnel that’s gonna be there on and off screen is enough to open a lot of doors and put fingers in a lot of pies for me. I need to impress.”

Malcolm
“So, it’s a career thing?”

Stephen
“In wrestling, when is it not?”

Malcolm
“Fair point well made.”

Stephen
“So what do I do?”

Malcolm
“Play to your strengths. When you started in PWF a while ago, you lost a lot…..”

Stephen
“They weren’t all my fault!”

Malcolm
“Point is: despite those losses, you kept at it. You were better in the ring than most of those that were wining. That and you have a Superkick. Hit them with it! You go in there and out wrestle the rest in the ring and win, lose or draw people will notice you. You start kicking teeth down you opponent’s neck, people will notice you. That’s who you are, it’s what you do and it’s what ‘brought you to the dance’.”

Stephen
“And if I lose?”

Malcolm
“If you lose, what does it matter? Maybe you impressed enough people in the time you were in the ring that doors open anyway. If not, you’re happy enough where you are. Aren’t you?”

Stephen shrugs and mumbles a non comital grunt down the phone

Stephen
“I suppose. But to win. To be the last man standing in that ring, victorious over all others. To be fielding calls from all feds involved in this match wanting me to be their newest and biggest top line, main event star. And who knows? Maybe WWE. A short spell in Florida to stop me doing all my cool moves before I go global obviously, and then goodbye to plodding around the country in front of a couple of thousand in a community centre, and hello to sell out crowds, big money pay days and thirty thousand seat arenas.”

Malcolm
“Earth to Stephen.”

Stephen sounds almost dejected as reality returns.

Stephen
“I know! It’d be nice though.”

Malcolm
“For WWE, I’d go back to wrestling full time. My bills would be paid and Erin, Fiona and I would be fairly comfortable after just ONE year of a WWE downside contract.”

There’s silence for a minute. During it, Stephen drinks the last of the milkshake.

Malcolm
“Fiona’s just found the website for this match. Do you know that as well as the rumble there’s also a…….”

Stephen
“A cage match, a street fight and a Hell In a Cell Ladder Match?”

Malcolm
“I take it you do.”

Stephen
“Paul and I are working on endurance and stamina. The guys at UWL have given me matches against a World Champion who would rather tear you apart than say ‘hi’ and I’ve been working with a trainer at Pride on cages and ladders so I can protect myself should I fall. That’s the thing, the match its self is a killer and a career shortener on whoever wins and everyone in the match is hungry to prove themselves. Well deserved kudos will go to anyone that comes out alive and obviously the winner. Even if it’s not me.”

Malcolm
“You’re scared.”

Stephen
“Me?”

Malcolm
“You. I don’t blame you either. I’m scared for you and I’m only reading the rules on the internet.”

Stephen
“So what do I do?”

Malcolm
“You got your entrant number yet?”

Stephen
“Midway. Twenty second, I think.”

Malcolm
“Well, that’s a start! By the time you get in a few will have fallen by the wayside anyway. Say you come fourth, that is major kudos just for getting that far and you and your agent should expect calls.”

Stephen
“What? Valerie calling the hospital to check my condition?”

Malcolm
“You’ll be fine. What is it Foley calls it? Testicular fortitude? This is what you do. You don’t let anyone keep you down while you can get back up. That’s why you’re in a match like this and I do three weekends a month for a local Scottish promotion.”

Stephen’s wife Valerie shuffles by in search of a drink of water. A pink nightie and bed hair, still half asleep. As she exits the room with a glass of water in her left hand, she eyes Stephen (even half asleep) with a look that says ‘get that phone off and go to bed.’

Stephen
“I gotta go. Thanks for talking, I needed that. I’ll call you later on.”

Malcolm
“You call me at two am my time and you won’t have to worry about a forty man rumble; I’ll come over there and kill you myself.”

Stephen
“Three then.”

Malcolm laughs sarcastically and hangs up. Maybe it was talking to his best friend. Maybe it was voicing his fears aloud, but for some reason Stephen felt better. Better about the match, better about himself. It might even be the fact that it was four am and Valerie was up. He followed the shuffling, water carrying, pink nightie to the bedroom.

Maybe, just maybe.

END PROMO

[Smash INC]

“I'm no angel; you can’t just expect me to forgive you.” Keaton Saint spoke in a soft tone that belied his true feelings.

“I’m not expecting your forgiveness, just a chance for me to make amends.” On the other side of the conversation, thing could not be more different. John Gainsborough’s voice was edgy, agitated to an extent and almost certainly buzzing with anticipation.

“You lied to me about so much.”

“I know, just let me speak to you face-to-face.” John paused, listening for a response. “There’s a coffee shop less than twenty minutes from both of us.”

“Which one?”

“Near the old pond, you know the place. I'll buy the coffees and I promise you won't be disappointed.

As much as he hated to admit it, Keaton made it to the meeting place in less than fifteen.

###############

"Take a look at this." John handed over a cappuccino and a leaflet advertising the APW Survive and Conquer match.

"What makes you think I want to wrestle again, too much has happened."

"I know, there's so much I need to apologise for."

"Like what, the fact that you've been lying to me for at least three years now." Keaton stated matter-of-factly. "Or is it the fact that you spent that time working with some bitch trying to work out if I inherited a mental condition from my dad."

"Don't talk about her like that."

"Or what?"

John said nothing in response.

"It never mattered who she was, you betrayed my trust."

"I thought I was doing the right thing, Keaton you have to see that."

"It's not enough."

"I know, that's why I'm offering you this..." John took a sip of coffee. "One match, I get to train you and whatever happens after is your call."

"I never have to see or speak to you again?"

"If that's what you want."

"I don't know if I want to go back."

"You are the Patron Saint of Professional Wrestling, the Paragon." John paused. "That's a fact."

"No, John the fact is..."

"Keaton." John interrupted "Whatever has happened in the past is just that. I know for sure you're eventually going to agree to this."

"You're so sure because..."

"Because I know what will make you sign up for this match, I've already put your name down for this." John took a final sip from his coffee and began to lift himself from his chair. "It's only a matter of time before you agree, call me when you know."

Keaton stared at John with a degree of disbelief, following his instruction to turn over the leaflet as John left the coffee shop. On the other side there were two notes, one stating that the prize was worth over three hundred thousand in sterling and the other stating a wrestler's name. For Keaton that was all it took to bolt out of the door and look for John.

"DAMN IT!"

"I knew you'd agree to it." John stated confidently as he emerged into plain sight, he had been standing next to the window of the shop next door to the coffee shop, anticipating and planning for Keaton to do exactly what he did.

"Damn!" Keaton had little else to say.

"Keaton, get your things sorted and give me a call. I'll get the gym ready."

All Keaton could do was nod his head in agreement.

###############

Many things had occurred in a small amount of time for Keaton Saint, with the offer he had been given by John Gainsborough, his outlook had changed once again. The man was offering to train him for one big match and then leave, no questions asked. It had taken a lot of guts to come up with something like that and for Keaton to make a decision would take an insurmountable amount of time. The decision would have to wait, for now all he could do was examine the gym equipment he was currently facing.

“Okay." John sighed.

"This is better than you said it would be."

"I know, but that isn't important." John shook his head. "What is important for you is how you train for Survive and Conquer, not just physically but mentally."

"I've always been able to push myself."

"As true as that may be, this is why I'm training you this time around. I know how to push your buttons Keaton, I know how to make you better."

"If you knew that you..."

"What?" John walked over to Keaton, staring a hole into him as he did so. "I wouldn't have made a mistake? Is that what you want to say?"

"You know I only agreed..."

"I only care that you did agree." John cracked his knuckles. "Look, you can explain to yourself why you made this choice afterwards, we both know the deal."

Keaton opened his mouth in response but did not say a word.

"I do want to help you, this is part of that." John pointed to the gym equipment. "What I want you to do here is change your workout as I go through this list.”

“How do you mean?” Keaton enquired. “Do you expect me to remember every name in this match in order?”

“No of course not, you’re going to do different workouts to each name I have on my list here.” John shook his head. “Not the whole list of participants though.”

“Too right.”

“Once we’re done you are going to do the same workout to whatever name or number I say.”

“And what does this do for me outside of making a themed workout structure?” Keaton smirked.

“What this does…” John paused. “What I am doing is instilling some names of particular threats you need to keep an eye on.”

“Even though…”

“Yeah.” John interrupted. “Even though this match contains a multitude of potential scenarios, even though anything can happen in professional wrestling and even though I might be completely wrong with some of these threats, these guys will likely shape the result of the match whether they win or not.”

“You had that answer prepared, didn't you?"

"Always."

"So what do you want me to do?”

“I want you to begin on the rowing machine.”

Keaton postured himself on the rowing machine, strapping himself in before looking up to John. “So?”

“What are you waiting on me for, start bloody rowing.” John raised his voice to a near shout, coaxing Keaton immediately into the exercise. “Good, keep it up.”

“Come on then” Keaton spread out each word with the timing of his rowing, waiting on John’s response.

“We start with number three, Ace Andrews.” John began to read his notes. “He has been a champion for some time within his home promotion and this could make him an early threat.”

“And?”

“I don’t have too much information on him but should he be in the ring when you start then please make sure you target him.”

"If you don't have any information on him, why target him?"

"Because you need an aim as soon as you enter at number seven." John looked at his stopwatch. “Okay that’s enough, get to the weights.”

Keaton unbuckled himself from the rowing machine and walked to the weight bench. “These dumbbells have thirty kilos each."

“I know, but you’re clearly in need of a higher-intensity workout and we shall be putting these up to forty kilos in a couple of days.”

“Curls then?”

“Always.” John looked at his list again. “Pence Weatherlight, one of the APW stalwarts, he comes in directly after you and will be the first definite threat within the match. Former champion isn’t enough to describe him but enough to give you an idea of what to expect. Keep your focus and you could have the upper hand.”

“I’ll still be fresh by then.”

“Which is fine for a regular match but you need to be fresh by the time number forty enters.”

"What's my stamina like at the moment?"

"Hell if I know, you've not been tested in a match for far too long." John shook his head. "For all I know this could be a waste if you've retaining nothing from your fighting condition."

"I don't have any injuries."

"Did the doctor confirm it?"

"Yeah."

"That's a start at least, by the time number forty enters the match you need to have enough in the tank to survive the onslaught. There will be plenty of people looking to eliminate you in order to buy some time in the final four and onwards."

"And how do I tackle that?"

"Don't worry about that yet." John looks at his list, confirming the names once more. “Listen to me, it’s no good if you blitz the early stages and then burn out near the end, you have to be prepared for a marathon. Change to a lateral raise.”

Keaton obliged by raising the weights in sync and holding his arms outstretched, postured similar to a cross.

“Ten and eleven, the winner and runner-up of last years Survive and Conquer match respectively. Both will hope to do the same or better this year. Make sure you’re aware of Victor Hades as he has won before and keep your eyes on Ryan Ruckus"

“Ruckus?”

“I know you’ll have heard of him and..." John pauses, thinking of what to say next. "I'm sure he'll have some idea of who you are by the time he enters this match."

"What makes him a threat?" Keaton grimaced.

"Other than nearly winning it last year? He's got a strong background and is certainly smart enough to work with others to achieve his own ends. You have to make sure you’re aware of the whereabouts of both of them at all times. Drop the weights.”

Keaton let out a sigh of relief as he brought the weights closer to his body before dropping them just in front of his feet. "That was a right bugger."

“Don’t look so relieved, we’re doing barbells now.” John explained.

“There’s nearly three hundred pounds on this thing! I don’t think I’ve ever been able to lift that much in a match.”

“You have done under pressure, I need you to be in the condition to do it on request.”

“Who’s next?” Keaton spoke as he put himself in position for a bench press.

“One sec I’ll check it again.” John glanced at the list. “Number sixteen, all three hundred plus pounds of Chris Defoe."

"That explains the weights."

"Precisely, his entry will surely help clear the ring and what you have to be ready for is being alone against this guy. You’re not going to tap him out over the top rope, I can assure you.”

"And?"

"He's the definition of someone who will throw the most people out in this match, big men always have a knack for any sort of battle royal. Your job is to understand your role in the ring when he gets there."

“I get…” Keaton pushed the barbell up for another bench press. “I get that.”

“Get what?" John looked at Keaton quizzically. "That you may have to get rid of him with a temporary alliance? Given the choice, would you help someone eliminate him?"

"I don't know."

"You'll have to figure out what side you're on if you ever get the choice, let me help you with that.” John assisted Keaton in locking the barbell back in place. “Get to the treadmill.”

Keaton walked onto the treadmill and began walking as the machine began to speed up, John maintained the increase in speed until Keaton was nearing sprint-like levels of running.

“Number nineteen, nearing the halfway point of the match will be the entry of the reigning champ Sally Talfourd.”

Keaton took a breath. “I thought you said… Sally Screw for a second there.”

“Just keep running."

Keaton responded by looking directly in front of him, the treadmill had a screen that simulated running down an endless road.

"If anyone will be capable of getting a second wind it will be this one, she’s lightweight and fast and will most likely have the most natural bundle of energy going into this." John looked at his list again. "Every champ has something to prove and she'll really want this win, now finish up on that."

Keaton slowed down as John commanded the machine to stop with a push of a button. John examined the gym looking for a suitable exercise before commanding Keaton to stand next to the training dummy a few metres away.

"Start by using your strikes." John spoke as he examined the list again. "Next one is Jason Kash at number twenty-six, an interesting note is that one of his finishers has a passing resemblance to your Paragon Backbreaker."

"He's a threat because of that?"

"Oh believe me he's on the list for more than that."

"So?"

"He's an example of something very important. There any many types of wrestler in this match, high-flyers, powerhouses, pure strikers..."

"Anything vintage?"

"What does that mean?"

"Don't ask." Keaton responded, knowing his comment had fallen on deaf ears.

"Regardless, you get a mixture of styles in a match like this and some of them will have similarities to you. The point is if you take advantage of those similarities and avoid them you take control."

"How?"

"You know, you..."

"OH!" Keaton exclaimed. "I use what I would do in that situation against them!"

"Precisely!" John smiled. "Now get to the speedball."

Keaton walked to the next piece of equipment and began punching a rhythm with his fists, slowly at first but eventually building up to a consistent rhythm of lefts and rights.

"Number thirty-six is Level One."

As John said his name Keaton immediately smacked his fist in the wrong part of the speedball an watched as it swayed violently.

"And that is why you won't win, if you stay like that." John stated confidently.

"Don't start."

"Don't stop when I mention his name then, this isn't a joke Keaton."

Keaton shook his head, knowing that John had landed the proverbial tail on the donkey. Level One was in many respects the primary antagonist of Keaton's career, although the two had only met a few times in the ring each encounter held some prominence for Keaton. It was Level One who Keaton made his debut against and Level One who had instigated a nagging back injury that had affected his performance ever since. In the past year Keaton had laid that injury to rest but the memories remained.

"You're stuck in thought." John spoke and received a slight nod from Keaton. "Keep up with the punching."

Keaton obliged by building his rhythm up once more.

"I don't need to say anything here, you know what he's capable of." John took a deep breath. "He finished third last year and won before that so the experience is there in spades."

"Well fu..."

"You'll need more than bad language to beat him." John interrupted. "Finish up here and we'll get to the last workout."

John walked over to an empty space in the middle of the gym and motioned for Keaton to do pushups, Keaton put himself in position to do so as John checked his list again.

"Do it with one leg." John said flatly. "Number thirty-eight is James Logan and frankly I frightened of what he can do more than anyone else."

"How so?" Keaton asked.

"You've never been a fan of DC have you?"

Keaton shook his head in response.

"Well I haven't seen enough of this guy to know for certain if he's anywhere near as accomplished as what I'm thinking but..."

"But what?"

"There is this comic book character called the Midnighter."

"Wow scary." Keaton rolled his eyes in response.

"Shut it Keaton and do it with the other leg." John responded. "Midnighter is able to read battles before the first punch is thrown, examining every possibility in an instant. If he can win, he always does. He can even beat the goddamned Batman without breaking a sweat."

"And what does that have to do with this Logan guy?"

"They both examine matches, battles and so on. James Logan has an innate ability to read opponents and react accordingly. With him coming in near the end it means he'll probably throw out some crazy moves because most of the ring will feature guys who can't, or won't think outside the box."

"Damn."

"Precisely, get up."

"Was he the last of the names?"

"Yeah, now you know what I said before?"

"Associate a name with a workout and do it."

"In a nutshell, yes."

"So pick a name."

"Okay." John peered at his list again. "Chris Defoe."

"That means I should go and..."

"Yeah so..." John paused. "Get to those damned weights!"

###############

It's been a long time since I've had to face a camera in this way.

Perhaps it has been too long since I've looked at life through a lens, telling my story to those who would willing to listen to it. So here I am again, Keaton Saint, the paragon of professional wrestling in a match so difficult and so demanding that the only advice you can truly be given is in the headline itself.

Survive.

That is what brought forty wrestlers of all backgrounds to one place. This is what we're all here to do, prove ourselves on the grandest stage and take home the greatest prize in return. I'm here for both of those things and yet I feel as if this being a part of this particular match has put me in too much involvement with those I should really be avoiding. I spent the majority of last year escaping the confines of the sport, making changes to my life that needed to be made, but we open this year with Keaton Saint once again facing off against the same foes and the same obstacles. There was a time when I thought I was done with this sport, that is was indeed all over but something always calls me back like a siren.

Is it the money?

The money is a great motivator, there is no doubt about it. Any time a prize like that is offered it gives us all a reason to aim higher than we have before. There are forty glory-hungry wrestlers in this match and for some of us the prize of half a million dollars is the greatest motivator, a truly large sum of money calling us to action. However as tempting as it is to believe the money is my motivation, I know it is not the only reason I am here.

Is it the competition?

I've always prided myself on aiming to compete against the best. For me, the chance to compete at the highest level does in fact surpass the monetary reward. The fact is we're all here to attain the highest level, to ascend even just one point higher than before. To prove beyond a doubt that we are better than the best, even if it is by one percent. Maybe in some respects my involvement, as convoluted as it is has always been about going one level higher than Level One.

In my debut match you made an example of me.

I remember almost the exact pain you subjected me to, I remember every agonising second of that submission hold you put on me and how every day served as a reminder of what you did to me and my back. I spent far too long hoping that my injury would fade away but it never really did. Instead it hung like a spectre over my every movement, symbolising my failure in the ring. I grew up, wrestled more and used the pain to drive me forward.

Level One, a lot happened between my debut and the last time we wrestled. You and I both know what happened wasn't a fluke, I know that any time I am near you now you're ready in a way that you never were before. As much as I respect every competitor in this match, you and I have something deeper than that, something very personal. You know now that I can beat you and maybe that is one of your motivations.

I certainly know what you are capable of and that is what will fuel me as I enter this match, their are nearly thirty men separating me from you and my first task is surviving long enough to be in the centre of being in the centre of the ring as Lupe Fiasco signals your arrival. I have every intention of being the man who eliminates you simply because I know very well what you can do.What actually happens if and when we meet is something I've been anticipating for a very long time. The money and the competition are both great motivators but you change the game completely, you make this mean something and it will mean a hell of a lot to me if I am the one to advance past your highest, Level.

That injury you gave me in my debut match hurt even when I finally made you tap. I spent a long time healing that wound, waiting for the moment it truly went away for good. I was checked constantly for signs of that injury continuing to cause pressure on my lower back, for a long time I really thought I would never be rid of it and yet here I am today knowing that I am completely fit, that I am ready and able to wrestle in this match in the absolute best condition of my life.

We all have advantages.

Whilst being at a hundred percent is a major boon, that is not my advantage in this match. For some, the chance to wrestle in front of a home crowd will drive them further, for others it is the chance to prove themselves at one moment in time to create a legacy. My advantage is that I know without a single doubt in my mind that I can and will give this my all. You hear that quite a lot in wrestling, in any sport really. There is always someone ready to say that they can give it everything they have, they will do anything, they will put it all on the line. All of those people have one thing in common, they all have something waiting for them afterwards

You see, for all the other wrestlers in this there is something after Survive and Conquer that they're all aiming for. Champions will still defend their titles, challengers will still chase that same title and they all have other matches that need to be completed in one way or another. In my case, I have an advantage in knowing I don't have anything to hold me back. I don't have to go back to anything, what I have is here and now. I have the chance to outlast and outwrestle some of the best in the world all in one single match. For me, this is an opportunity to create a true ending to my story. I don't have anything holding me back, I don't need to defend a title in two or three weeks. What I have is this chance.

When I say I can give it my all I mean it with such ferocious vigour that if I am to face that test, you can see what it takes to beat me. I can and will do everything to survive, I will go and there and cripple myself to conquer. I don't have anything beyond this match that needs to be done, what I have is the opportunity to say...

I am Keaton Saint and with everything in my power I will survive beyond thirty-nine other wrestlers.

I will reach my apotheosis as the paragon of wrestling.

I will show you why I am the Patron Saint of Professional Wrestling!

[C.J. Gates]

(The scene opens up with a shot of a smiling C.J. Gates wearing a top hat and red jacket over top of a black dress shirt. His red jacket has tails to it, and he is also wearing a fake handlebar mustache, the ends curled up. He is standing behind a podium and in front of a large projector screen which is currently showing the picture of a circus tent.)

"Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, children of all ages! Welcome! Welcome one and all! I, C.J. Gates, am the ringmaster of this action packed mayhem, and tonight, I am proud to give all of you a sneak peek at what you can expect to see during our show! During the show! A show that will be sure to amaze! A show that will be sure to astound! A show that will be the greatest show on Earth!

"So, without further ado! Let us begin!"

(With his arms out, Gates smiles before taking a side step to the left and motioning to the right to give a clear look at the screen behind him.)

"In the ring to my right, we have individuals who will take your breath away. People that will leave you wide-eyed with shock and gasping in surprise. Our sideshow acts that almost steal the show! The men who put it all on the line to get everyone started! We have our fire eater XXX Flame, who, no matter the temperature, can stomach whatever fire he chooses to take on. But don't forget about our snake charmer Callaway who keeps his cool while playing his snake Cobra into submission. He might even lean in and kiss it on the top of his head if he's feeling daring enough. So hold your breath!

"Then, we have mysticism and magic. We have our resident fortune teller and psychic Ravencroft who will mystify you with tales of pain and sorrow that may be coming your way! And the magic! The wizard of the deck! The card twirling magician that is known only as The Gambler! He will do things with cards that you can only dream of doing. But don't ask him how he does it, because a magician never gives away his secrets."

(Gates smiles as pictures of XXX Flame, Stephen Callaway, Cobra, Robert Ravencroft and The Gambler appear on the screen.)

"Then our show reaches new heights! We have Marcus, our human cannonball, who has been fired so many times, he claims that he is immortal! With a bang he will capture your breath and you won't release it until he has landed. But there is more! We also have our stilt man who reaches up to the top of the tent everyday. The best part about it, is that our stilt man BDC is the only stilt man in the world to not actually need stilts! It's quite the feat if you ask me.

"But more heights are reached. We not only have a strongman in G who will lift anything you ask him to, but we also have what we like to call a one man gang, a man who will take on all comers, no matter their size, gender or how bad they smell. Some have called this dragon psycho, and so have we! Then there is our extreme unicycling duo of Caravelle and Scene, two men who have been known to do back flips while riding on their cycles. A feat that you can only believe when you see it! A feat that will leave your jaw on the floor!"

(The previous pictures disappear and are replaced with pictures of Ultramarcus, Chris "BDC" Defoe, Christian G. Smitten, Psycho Dragon, Evan Caravelle and Jason Scene.)

"Don't look away, however, because if you do, you might miss the dangerous sword swallowing of our Belorussian sword swallower Ebon! Careful not to make any sudden noises, or he might rupture a major organ with those sharp swords. Sudden noises might also be a problem for our knife throwing duo, Quadruple K. Kenny Kasual and Kip Kutler take turns throwing knives and watching them whiz by their body at high speeds. A dangerous way to live if you ask me. And while all of that high risk knife play is going on, our Tumbling Twosome will put the younger fans at ease as the Wildman-Park connection tumble and tussle so the tots won't teeter!"

(Again the previous pictures fade and are replaced with ones of Ebon, Kenny Kasual, Kip Kutler, Jay Wildman and Mike Park. Gates smiles some more before pointing up.)

"And up above me, navigating the airways underneath the big top, are the aerials artists extraordinaire! First, we have our trio of aerial acrobats known world-wide as the High Flying Homeboys! Supersonic, Sterling Silver Surfer, The Tornado, and the Royalty Rock are all capable of reaching new heights and taking things to the extreme when the time calls for it. They have no fear, but ice water running through their veins as they perform death-defying acts of eye-popping amazement!"

(Pictures of Branden Harvey, Jeremy Sterling, Ian DeTornado and King Stone pop up on the screen one after the other.)

"But that's not all! We also have two of the steadiest, most well balanced tight-rope walkers in the business. From one side to the other without so much as a hint of falling, Lilly Rose and Chris Hart are capable of performing tricks that you, the regular person, would find improbable and impossible. But they find a way to get it done!"

(The previous four pictures are replaced with shots of Lilly Rose and Chris Hart.)

"And down below, in front of our rings, for your viewing pleasure, we have our high octane juggling trio! Three men who all share the same love for what they do, and don't care what anyone has to say about them. They are the Juggling Kash Men and they will take your breath away with their juggling prowess. Swords, pins, flaming sticks, balls, cats, they will juggle it all. Nothing is too much for these men!"

(Rose and Hart and replaced with pictures of J.T. Cash and Caio Kash. After a few moments, Gates steps to the right and motions to the left with his cane.)

"And now, in the ring to my left, we have the spectacle that captures the minds of both the young and old alike. In that very ring, we have the ongoing battle, the epic banana cream pie clown war where everyone who wants to be anyone tries to defeat the Free Agency Clowns. The would-be heroes, the Brawling Clowns, do their best to weaken the opposition while those very opponents do their best to fight back. Pies are thrown to and fro, the action is never ending. The crowd cheers, laughs, cries, and boos for this everlasting war that rages on forever with no one ever coming away as the clearcut winner! That is, until things go from bad to worse with the leader of the Free Agency clowns going rogue and turning on his fellow funnymen. What a great spectacle it is for the crowd to take in!

(The screen is now filled with a bunch of pictures. On one side, Level One, Ryan Ruckus, James Logan, Jason Kash and Johnny Knuckles can be seen standing together all in face paint, while on the other side of the screen, the pictures of Keaton Saint, Travis Miller, Masamune, Kurt Noble, Terry Marvin, Ace Andrews and James Varga pop up.)

"And in the middle ring, we have the main attractions, the highlights of the night, the reasons that most of you are sitting in your seats right now. Whether or not that is the actual truth is for you to decide. Because as we all know, while they might be the big names with the brightest faces, they might not always be the top dogs in the fight. But, they have proven their worth, which is why they are suitable for our middle ring. Suitable for our posters. Suitable to help send you all home with smiles on your faces, with racing hearts, and with the sensation of being alive!"

(The clown pictures fade and are replaced with pictures of Sally Talfourd, Pence Weatherlight and Victor Hades.)

"But what does it all truly mean?"

(Gates smiles some more as he removes his top hat and places it beneath the podium, before taking his cowboy hat from beneath it and placing it on his head. He also removes the fake mustache, placing it on top, before removing the red jacket he is wearing and hanging it on the corner of the podium and stepping down in front.)

"What it means is that this Survive and Conquer match is going to be just as it seems.

"A three ring circus.

"If I could single-handedly stop it from getting to that point, I would. But I know that it is out of my hands. And while everyone who thinks they are anyone tries to eliminate everyone else. As they try and pick up the largest of the large to dump them on their ass on the outside. As they try and pick up the smallest of the small and javelin them into next week with ease. It is just going to degenerate itself into mayhem and chaos as bodies fly everywhere, as punches are thrown, and as dreams are smashed and battered.

"And I can't wait for it. For the chance to prove the doubters wrong.

"Though let me be clear to anyone out there that is taking exception to the comparisons made. It might be a bit harsh to jump to conclusions like that. I'm not literally calling all of you out. I'm not literally calling Cobra a snake in the grass, and I'm not literally saying that J.T. Cash is only good at juggling, both literally and metaphorically. I'm not. The only literal translations are with the Main Attractions and the Free Agency Clowns. Because that is what they are. Especially the Clowns, because that is all they are. Clowns. People put into this competition just to make a mockery of it. Just to give the fans something to laugh at. Level One likes to think he is helping APW by doing this, by putting his little band of merry men together, but he's actually only hurting the reputation. Though he doesn't care. Because he is just trying to put his own name on the map.

"But everyone hates Level One in some capacity. He's on the tips of everyone's tongues. Everyone wants a chance to lash out at Uncle Lester. One of the many things I've realized as I listened to all the words being thrown around."

(Gates smiles and shakes his head.)

"I am also beginning to realize another trend here. Everyone is looking at everyone else, but one thing seems to be missing from all of them. One person is missing from all of their calculations. With forty other people it makes sense how it could happen, but it is still shocking to me. Shocking that everyone, so far, has decided to overlook one of the biggest threats to their plans to win this competition.

"Me.

"C.J. Gates.

"You don't believe me though, do you? None of you believe me. Because all you see is a small man with no hope. You see a high flyer that can easily be grounded. A tag team champion that can't hack it on his own. But in every one of those cases, you would all be wrong. My abilities stretch farther than my height and my style. My ability to win this match is bigger than what titles I hold. I might not be the World Heavyweight champion, but I am still a champion. I still had to fight hard for the title that I do have. Hell, just look at last week's Overdrive. Go one, take a look. You will see me win a match, in singles competition, against a very tough opponent.

"But that doesn't matter to any of you, right? Because for the most part, you are all a bunch of hypocrites. You are all putting down one person for being a horrible wrestler, and then putting them down again when they have proof of being able to handle themselves.

"So here is what I will do for all of you. For those of you in the free agency class that don't know who I am, and for those on the official roster who think they know who I am, I will lay everything out on the table. I will tell you all just who I am.

"I am C.J. motherfucking Gates. You want wrestling ability? I've got it. You want skill? I've got that too. High risk? Check. High octane? Double check. And on top of all that, I have heart. I have passion. I put myself out on the line time after time, week after week without so much as a care for my own well being. Titles? You want titles? Multiple times I have held them in other federations. Television titles, One Shot titles, Tag Team titles. And then here, in APW, current APW Tag Team champion. I may not be a Main Attraction. I may not be billed in the Main Event scene week after week. But I have one thing that helps me out each and every time I am inside of that ring.

"The fans.

"You want some proof that I have what it takes? Just ask the fans. Because the fans never lie. The fans tell you just what they like and just what they hate. Level One? Hate. Sally Talfourd? Like. Ryan Ruckus? Rucking hate.

"And me? They love me. Evident when I kicked out of Kaycee's pinfall attempts to the cheers of the fans time after time. Evident whenever I walk through that curtain to the roar of the crowd. Feeling the electricity course through my veins. The blood pumping in my ears as I get myself ready for what is about to happen. For the match that is about to hit that ring. And when that bell sounds, it's like a blessing ringing through the air. A blessing because I can finally do what I enjoy doing.

"That's another thing that I like to think holds me above all the rest. I wrestle every week because I want to. Because I enjoy doing it. I wrestle for fun and to send each and every fan home happy. I don't care about the money I get from it, I don't do it to release some anger or to beat up on women. I am not forced to do it by anyone holding a gun to my head. Yes, hate is a by-product, and it is a result of what we do, but it is not my motivation.

"Those fans are my motivation. Which is why I signed up for this thing. A win is a great way to show my dominance, but it isn't my first and only reason for putting my name down. This is the perfect opportunity to show what I am capable of. To show that I am more than just the Tag Team champion that Level One likes to belittle. That I am more than just the son of an oil tycoon and the nephew of a software developer. More than a cowboy hat and talk. I am going to prove that I am what I have said I am since day one. That I am here to wow the fans and that I mean business."

(Gates walks across the room, passing empty chairs on his way to a large table set up at the back. Gates stops in front of the table and turns around.)

"I understand that this match is down to more than just a handful of people. Unlike some, I know that there are more than four or five people. One person could shock us all and come out of things with a win in this Survive and Conquer match, I've seen it happen before, in other areas. And while I do always open up an umbrella of equal rights, I also know that I can't throw barbs at each and everyone of you, like I would really want to, I will have to narrow it down to those that either pose the biggest threats, or those that have annoyed me or pissed me off to the point where I can't ignore them any more.

"Let us begin, shall we?

"Why not start with one of the men who is out for one thing and one thing only. Payback. XXX Flame, Cid Phoenix, Kid Candelario, whatever you're going to be going by come match time. I think you've missed the big picture about this match. I think you've missed the point that it isn't about you and Ruckus. Phoenix, I give you kudos for throwing me name out in a last ditch effort to disguise your obsession with Ruckus. It won't change anything. From what I have heard about Ryan, he's in prime position to tear your head clean off your body. I wouldn't put it past him, because he has that mean streak snaking down his back. While you? You are more of a small fish in a big pond. You have determination, but it will never been fully met. I'm sorry to say that you will not be winning Survive and Conquer.

"Next up, Branden Harvey. You have been improving ever since you took the advice and the guidance that Blade and I threw your way. Of course, it hasn't always been peachy, but you have still been improving and showing your worth to the future. To our vision. And while you have been improving by leaps and bounds, I am unfortunately going to have to inform you that you won't be winning at Survive and Conquer. Nothing against your abilities, but I just think that you are a year away from that point. But a lot can happen between now and then and I am sure you will do everyone proud.

"And then there is the DangerTainment twosome. Jason Kash and Johnny Knuckles, who would sell their souls for a chance to sky rocket to stardom. I guess they thought that attaching their train to Level One's caboose would help them achieve their goal of becoming the future, but their hopes are soon going to be erased. After all, Level One will only use you as long as he needs you, and then, you will be discarded like yesterday's trash. Don't believe me? Fine. It will be your funeral once Level One finds you expendable and throws your asses down and out. And to think, you could have avoided all of this is you just stayed straight. Stayed true to who you are. But the moment you guys met up with the Free Agency, that was you were removed from the juggling Kash Men, Jason. Thems the breaks.

"But now to the head of the snake, the Free Agency themselves. James Logan, Ryan Ruckus and the leader of the pack Level One. Logan, there is nothing really to say about you. You chose your path, much to the chagrin of the ones who got you the job, but you do nothing. You add nothing to the equation. If everyone just ignored you, you wouldn't even do a single thing. And Ruckus? Level One's little sheep. Joining up for what purpose? To get your foot in the door before you turn your tail and run? Because I've heard a lot about you, Ryan, both good and bad. And really, I don't know what to think of you. You seem like a man out for a bit of easy recognition and once that time has passed, you are fine moving on to the next fed to ruin. And Uncle Lester. What more can we say about you? You are the epitome of everything people hate in this match. ninety-five percent of the participants want to kill you, the other five percent don't realize that they do. So really, come match time, you're all on your own. Isolated against everyone staring you down.

"With one man, Keaton Saint, breathing down your neck. Keaton, I want to thank you. I thank you for attempting to stop the Free Agency in their tracks. It didn't work out the way any of us would have liked it to, but at least we put that seed of doubt into the minds of the Free Agency, whether they choose to accept that or not. But I am keeping my eye on you Keaton. Because you have the ability to run away with this thing. To grab it in your hand and take off for the finish line. Good luck, though.

"And on to my APW colleagues, I wish you all the best of luck as well. Alphabet Soup, BDC, we've had our differences, and I know you'd like to drive your boot down my throat. I implore you, though, to wait until the match wears on. Let us see what is left. Maybe then you will find a suitable spot to make me eat your sole. Sally, you and I have had our time in the ring together, we've taken each other to our length and know what we are able to do. I can assure you that I will be watching you closely. Pence, you and I have not crossed paths, but you are one of the ones that needs to realize there is more than just one opponent in this match. It is more than just Level One drawing an entry number. So just be prepared for what I'm going to throw your way.

"And last but not least, last years winner, Victor Hades. When I joined APW, you were on your way to the top before disappearing into thin air. I heard so much about you, so many good things, but I was unable to watch them unfold because you were gone. And now you come back to the APW to try and become a two time winner of this match. Well, I am here to say that if you are looking for that, then you might need to look elsewhere, because there are tons of capable people looking to leave you broken and beaten. People who want to rub our face in the fact that you just vanished into thin air leaving everything high and dry. I am one of those. Not because you screwed me over, but because you disappointed me. You disappointed me by not living up to the billing I received about you. And really, that annoys me more than getting my ass kicked."

(Gates cracks a slight smile before shaking his head.)

“But there are so many that I am glossing over, because time just doesn’t allow for an in depth dissection of each and every one of you. J.T. Cash, Cobra, Callaway, Ebon, Marvin, Miller, Masamune. All of you are on my radar, as is everyone else. Because I don't let anyone get away with a free pass. If you didn't hear your name, don't think you're forgotten. I don't let anyone steal a win from under my nose. Whoever wins this match, I am going to make sure that they deserve to win it.

"And while everyone looks at me like I am some black sheep or dark horse, I know that I will do nothing but surprise them. I will prove my worth inside of that ring, even with everyone ignoring me. Casting me aside and laughing at my feeble attempt to sound like a winner, when they really should be laughing at the clowns. But I believe in my abilities, and I know that I can win this thing. Does anyone else believe that? Probably not, but that's their loss.

"It's time to go big or go home."

[trombonerman]

The Backstory of Christian G. Smitten

Born Christian Gregory Smitten, believed to be on March 14, 1979, a young man began his journey through life. Smitten experienced an unsettled childhood, having been abandoned at birth by the side of a highway in the South of the USA. The exact location of where he was picked up is unknown, but he was fortunate, having been found by a travelling bike gang. The gang, known as the “Bikies of Justice”, were a group of outlaws, who were trying to do good. However, their past would frequently come back to haunt them.

Through the turbulence of this group, Smitten somehow found love, education and growth. Against all odds, it seemed like this rogue batch of bikers would raise him trouble free. However, not long after his 16th birthday, Smitten, and the bikers, were arrested, over the believed mass murder of a rival gang. Being young, Smitten, while found guilty of being a part of this homicide, was sent to prison. Despite claiming his innocence, still to this day, Smitten spent the next 5 years in the prison system. It was in here, that Smitten was able to achieve his high school certificate, with astoundingly high results.

Upon being released from prison on good behaviour, Smitten settled in Salt Lake City, Utah, where he immediately set back into the biker way of life. The lone Biker of Justice, Smitten decided not to target those who’d imprisoned him, but rather, try and revive and repair the tattered image of his beloved family. However, his efforts became fruitless. He began wrestling, as a way to release the emotional energy that was being built up, while studying law at a local community college.

Wrestling and law enveloped the life of Smitten for the next several years. He would be offered contracts to perform in local wrestling circles for a number of years, which provided his income, as he continued to study, with the intention of becoming a fully recognised and accredited lawyer. Smitten achieved this goal in April 2004, but continued to work with wrestling for the coming years, using his legal skills as a part time job, in order to earn more spending money.

In September 2006, Christian G. Smitten was invited to meet with Jason Roy and Robb Larsen, two highly esteemed and brilliant wrestling minds from the Psychotic Wrestling Alliance. The pair, who’d been scouting Smitten for many months, had seen immense potential with him, and offered him a full time job with a new company, Full Metal Wrestling. Having already secured prime time television deals, it seemed like an opportunity too good to be true, and Smitten signed up. While the fed initially got off to a shaky start, with Roy and Larsen being fired from the PWA in what would later be known as “Pyrogate”, Smitten made the most of his new opportunity.

Under the moniker “CGS”, Smitten was unsuccessful early in his career, but continued to remain in contention for many of the company’s top titles. Despite failing to win the titles, Smitten continued to grind away, impressing the management with his drive, determination and will. However, his urge to practice law was growing. When Roy, more commonly known by his stage name “Jaro”, caught wind of Smitten’s status as an attorney, he immediately offered him the position as head of FMW’s legal department, one which Smitten accepted.

While taking in the position, Smitten continued to wrestle. Now performing under his real name, Smitten found more success with his hardened, cold blooded persona. It was with these same dirty tactics that he was able to adopt a daughter, Kelsey. Kelsey, an innocent, 4 year old girl, would be treated with utter contempt over the next few years. Some believe that it was the disrespect he showed to his daughter that spiked his popularity. Regardless, he surprised the federation at the Ultimatum Pay-Per-View, capturing the first “Gold Card”, a card which grants you one “Anytime, Anywhere” FMW Championship match. At the same pay-per-view, Smitten unveiled himself as one of the men involved in the super stable, Original Sin, who’s intention was to take over FMW, and drive it into the ground. While Smitten lead where he could, ultimately it was the greed of the stable’s leader, Jaro, who wanted sole control of the company, which lead to the stable’s demise.

Shortly after the failure of Original Sin, Smitten cashed in his Gold Card, using it to capture the FMW Championship from John “Doc” Derrick. It would be at this time that Smitten would come face with a man he never expected to meet. Benjamin Bright, a veteran wrestler, came to him, wanting to be a part of his life. It took a DNA test to confirm one thing. Benjamin Bright was Smitten’s biological father. Once he learnt this, however, Bright kidnapped his grand daughter, and held Kelsey hostage. It had taken a long time to come to this point, but to get Kelsey back, Christian G. Smitten had to finally commit a murder, killing his own father.

The loss of his biological father didn’t worry Smitten, but the events with his daughter proved to be a handful for him. He started to feel love for the little girl he adopted through arrogance and bitterness, and started to realise what being a father meant. At the same time, his newly won FMW Championship, the most prestigious title in FMW, proved to not be his for long, as he would soon be defeated for the title in a triple threat match by Nick Bryson. While Smitten was the stand out performer of the match, dominating most of it, Bryson would captialise, pinning Derrick to steal the title away from Smitten. While Smitten tried to invoke a rematch clause, he would be shot down, with management telling him there were more contenders who wanted a shot, and he’d have to sit on his rematch clause for a while. This didn’t stop Smitten from winning a Number One Contender’s match for the title, but again, while being the next in line, he was pushed back by management.

Frustrated with Management, he set about rising through the chain, using underhanded tactics to become the official “Commissioner” of Full Metal Wrestling. In the process of becoming the Commissioner of Full Metal Wrestling, Smitten was instated with an amazing honor, being recognised a Judge within the United States of America. With this new feather in his cap, Smitten continued to try and juggle active competition, his legal duties, and the role of Commissioner, however, the role became too busy, and Smitten quit active competition in dramatic style.

With the pressures of active competition behind him, Smitten calmed, growing closer and closer to his daughter. Their turbulent relationship was now a loving, caring one. With Smitten making the tough decision to send her to Boarding School meant she could have a more stable childhood, one that he was denied.

While the coming months would become much more stable and regular for Smitten, his world would be turned upside down when Jaro would come to him with a cunning and evil plan. With Smitten given no choice than to draw up the necessary contracts, complying with an ancient yet still valid law, Jaro was able to legally murder his wife with the help of Dunnwood and The Virus, and take over her position as the CEO of Full Metal Wrestling. Before the deed was announced, Smitten made an unexpected return to the ring. The sequence of events which followed sent the federation into a downward spiral.

The federation had been split. Factions were beginning to rise up all over the place. Smitten began wrestling with no care whether he won or lost. With the passion quickly escaping Smitten, and the FMW roster divided, the federation seemed like it was on its death bed.

And now, we return to the present day.

***

An interesting email popped into my inbox today. It was far from the humdrum, un-educated emails I usually receive from management, sponsors or uninformed new talent. It was an official email, from a rival federation, Action Packed Wrestling. It was personally sent by their president, “Hurricane Jeff”. Simply title “APW: Survive and Conquer”, I was ready to place it into the trash of my email system.

That was until my finger slipped, opening the email instead. Disgruntled, I tried to move it again, but this time, my eye was caught by the contents of the email. Deciding not to delete the email, I read on. This wasn’t a generic, spam email promoting the company’s upcoming pay per view. Rather, a call out for talent, for a multi-federation match, pitting the most talented wrestlers in the world against each other. This concept entrigued me. Full Metal Wrestling had tried something of a similar vein once before, hosting, and failing to finish, a multi federation tournament.

Truth be told, FMW’s reputation took a beating after that failed tournament, and had never since recovered. However, with this being the fourth time that Action Packed Wrestling had held the event, I decided that they would not fail in completing the idea. Especcially since it was only one match. Perhaps this would be a good medium for our battered and bruised federation to start rebuilding our image.

Printing the email, I hastily rushed to the office of Jason Roy, AKA Jaro. As I opened the door, a Chinese hooker rushed out, wearing next to no clothing, clutching her pay with tears strolling down her face. I would be concerned, if this wasn’t a regular occurance. As I entered, Jason sat before me, butt naked, with a smile on his face.

Jaro: You’d think the agency would word them up on what to expect by now, but they are always oblivious...

Smitten: Jason, do you REALLY have to do that here?

Jaro: Sorry, I didn’t realise what happened in my office was such a big inconvenience to you.

Smitten: Look, we need to have a talk.

Jaro: Make it quick. May-Linh will be back soon, and I don’t want you here listening to her “lies” about how I owe her money.

Smitten: You underpaid her, didn’t you?

Jaro: I gave her the money, it’s not my fault my massive cock destroyed half her pay.

Smitten: Professionalism? Please?

Jaro: Right, were are my manners. Get out of my office, you disgusting pig.

Smitten: We’ve been invited to send multiple representatives to a rival federation, to compete...

Jaro: No. I’m not going to let those fucker get buy rates off our superstars.

Smitten: I was thinking more laterally, perhaps such an opportunity like this could...

Jaro: Smitten, I said no. This is a matter of principal.

Smitten: Coming from the man who killed his wife, isn’t it a bit hypocritical to see you talking about “principals”?

Jaro: Murderers, whether they do it legally, like I have, or illegally, like others have, all have principals. Now, I’m in the position of power here, and I’m telling you that you’re not to nominate a superstar from Full Metal Wrestling to compete. Are we clear?

Frustrated I would not be getting my way, I was ready to concede the fight. That was until I noticed the loop hole he’d provided me with. Grinning politely, I spoke softly and calmly as I told him exactly what he wanted to hear

Smitten: Crystal.

I turned around and exited. Almost like clockwork, the same hooker from before rushed past me in a hurry, bursting into Jason’s office. Pending how the man handled himself here, I knew this could turn into a major problem for me. That was an issue for me to deal with when and if it happened.

I entered my office and immediately sat down at the computer. I opened up my email browser and typed furiously. Wording what I said very carefully, I responded to the offer from APW, all the while thinking about ways this will improve our standing as a world class federation.

Dear Jeff,

Full Metal Wrestling Inc., would like to thank you for the offer to participate and compete in APW’s “Survive and Conquer”. Unfortunately, due to a class of engagements with our own Pay-Per-View and show schedule, all of our superstars are unable to compete. Instead, we shall be represented by the federation’s Commissioner, Christian G. Smitten.

Smitten is a former Full Metal Wrestling Champion, and will surely be able to take on those who are competing against him. We believe that he will represent us valiantly, and respectfully, on the way to proving that FMW deserves to be considered as having one of the finest wrestling rosters.

Smitten would like to inform you that he is excited by the prospect of competing in this match, and will look forward to attending the entry number drawing, when it is to be held.

Sincerely, on behalf of the Full Metal Wrestling roster, Board, and Management,

The Honorable Christian G. Smitten
Judge
Commissioner of Full Metal Wrestling.

***

Stepping through the doors to attend the entry drawing for Survive and Conquer, I felt very much out of place. This was nothing like Full Metal Wrestling at all. The names and pictures on the walls were unfamiliar, the environment was completely alien to me, and I didn’t feel like it fit in here. I reassured myself at this wasn’t going to be a disasterous visit, and that many other people will be feeling exactly the same as me.

I guess it was an advantage for me to come. After all, being here would give me a chance to scope out the environment I’d be competing in. There was no doubt that any and all competitors from APW would have a home field advantage. It’s only natural, being in a big stage in a federation such as this, you become more easily accustomed to the moment, and can compete at the highest level. However, I also knew that the sign of a truly great wrestler was his ability to do this, regardless of his opponent, location, health, or mental state.

It would be an uphill battle for me, after all, I was still blowing out my ring rust after taking a lengthy break. At the same time, perhaps this could be an advantage to me. I’ve been away from the ring long enough, I will not have any inhibitions about participating on foreign soil. Even the FMW ring is foreign to me at the moment. Yet, I have had success since returning.

I entered the room where the drawing was to take place, and instantly, I lay eyes upon a familiar face. Ultramarcus is a man who has a brutal reputation within Lords of Pain Wrestling, also known as LPW. If Ultramarcus was here, perhaps there were more. With Full Metal Wrestling being born out of the shadow of Lords of Pain Wrestling, people may have considered at Ultramarcus and I would be at each other’s throats. However, as I sat next to him, this would be the furthest thing from the truth.

Smitten: Marcus, how very nice to see you.

Ultramarcus: Oh no, please tell me you’re just representing FMW at the drawing.

Smitten: Not just at the drawing.

Jeff: Hello and welcome everyone. Thank you all for joining us here for the live drawing of the entry order for Survive and Conquer. I’m the APW President, “Hurricane” Jeff, and I’ll be officiating this drawing. And to start off with, I’ll be congratulating Kenny Kasual, a free agent, who’s drawn number one. Please, feel free to talk amongst yourselves between drawings.

Ultramarcus: So, you’re actually representing FMW here?

Smitten: Naturally. I assume you’re here to fill LPW’s role in the match?

Ultramarcus: Well, yes I am, as a matter of fact.

Jeff: The man who’s drawn number two is Mike Park, of TEW.

Ultramarcus: So why, Smitten, why you? Surely with Drew Michaels, Chris Austin, TyranT, Hannibal Frost, and Alex O’Rion all competing in FMW at the moment, how on Earth were you chosen to compete?

Smitten: Simple answer is, because I was choosing who competes.

Ultramarcus: Is that right, is it?

Smitten: Jason wouldn’t let a superstar compete. He said it would palm off too many buy rates off our stardom.

Jeff: Our third entrant into the match is Ace Andrews from RoP.

Ultramarcus: So how does this work then?

Smitten: I’m no superstar, I’m the Commissioner. Technically different.

Ultramarcus: not in my mind it isn’t.

Smitten: And that’s why you’re Ultramarcus, and I’m Christian Gregory Smitten. I’m smarter than you. I can tell you that technically, a Commissioner isn’t a superstar. A superstar is a job title, and a commissioner is a different job title. Make no mistake, I’m competing, and I’m intending on being victorious.

Jeff: Our fourth man to enter this match will be Christian G. Smitten from FMW.

Ultramarcus: Ouch, I guess winning is going to be a bit harder for you now.

Smitten: Fourth in a field of fourty, it’s a chance that could have happened. But let me ask you this Marcus, why are you here?

Ultramarcus: I was given the nod to compete by the Pyromania Head Booker. That’s all you need to know.

Smitten: So, you asked, and got told yes then?

Ultramarcus: You don’t need to know more that I’ve told you.

Jeff: Coming in at number 5 will be APW’s own XXX Fire.

Smitten: Well let me riddle you this. Have you ever competed in a multi-man match like this?

Ultramarcus: I’ve competed in multi man matches...

Smitten: No no, not on that scale. I’m talking on the scale of the 40 men you’re going to be duelling with. Have you competed in LPW, a match on the scale of a rumble, or something of the like?

Ultramarcus: Technically no.

Smitten: I have. It was a fair while ago, almost four years actually, but I’ve competed in a match of this magnitude. We have something like this in FMW, it’s called the Mount Vesuvius match.

Ultramarcus: I know of Mount Vesuvius, yes.

Jeff: Our man, entering number 6 will be Ultramarcus from LPW.

Smitten: Interesting. Anyway, so I’d assume you’re aware that Mount Vesuvius is a staggered entry match, with stipulations being added to the match as time and entrants go by.

Ultramarcus: I am, yes.

Smitten: Well, Mount Vesuvius is the next match i need to prepare for. It’s a match I’ll be competing in, and it runs remarkably similar to this. So yes, maybe my number four entry will be a determent to me, but really, I don’t care. Because at the end of the day, while I’m here, competing with noble ambitions of restoring some of FMW’s tattered image, I’m also here with selfish reasons. Preparing for Mount Vesuvius, that’s one of them. So, if I can survive the 39 other competitors who will be trying to win this match here at Survive and Conquer, perhaps I’ll have a strong chance in my own federation, where I only have 29 other people to contend with. The biggest difference, I’ll have 29 people in FMW seeing a target on my back. Here, the focus will be a lot more broad. I bet many people here have no idea who I am.

Ultramarcus: If I didn’t know you already, I wouldn’t.

Smitten: My point. And I can tell you, I wouldn’t know most of the people competing here either. It’s the nature of the competition. But I’ll take that on board, and learn as much as I can before I compete. After all, 39 people to beat is still 39 people to beat, whether they all hate you or not.

Ultramarcus: And how long did you expect me to believe that spew of liew?

Smitten: Marcus, you don’t need to believe it at all. I’m just telling you exactly my attitude, and pardon me for thinking it’s a good one.

***

To all those competing the APW’s Survive and Conquer.

My name is Christian G. Smitten, and I am a judge who calls Salt Lake City, Utah, home. I will be competing, representing Full Metal Wrestling, in the Survive and Conquer match at APW’s pay per view of the same name.

It would be ignorant of me to discount any of you whom are competing in this match. After all, a match of this type is designed to do one thing, and one thing only. Bring the best of the best together, and see whom is left standing at the end of proceedings.

In this field, there are World Champions, former World Champions (including myself), and men who have established rivalries and or teams. It’s without a doubt an extremely formidable line up of talent and experience. That being said, we all have different motives, and I can guarantee you, everyone’s reason to compete, while slightly similar in some regards, are vastly different.

I compete in my own federation, Full Metal Wrestling, primarily because it makes me happy. I come here tonight, not to make myself happy, but to prove points. Points to myself, points to FMW, and points to the wrestling community. I talk to you today not as your better, but as an equal, when I say, this match will prove two things in my eyes.

Full Metal Wrestling is at an elite level. This is to both FMW itself, and to the wrestling community.

The point to myself, it is simple. I am at the elite level.

I think I can say with confidence that whomever defeats me, should I not be victorious in this match, will have earnt the right to call themself the man who came, who saw, and who conquered.

Ladies and Gentlemen, best of luck to you all.

Sincerely,

Christian Gregory Smitten.

[Reaver]

Knuckles: Ya see this? Did this get your attention? This represents the “STAFF” of where I just came from. I won’t name names but let’s just say that this is basically all they did. It’s the reason Dangertainment sought employment elsewhere. Now here we are making our APW/IWC debut here at the Survive and Conquer match. There are still questions that need to be answered and there’s only one way to fix this “CONSPIRACY”. I called a man who has experience in solving conspiracies…… IT’S JESSE VENTURA!!

Knuckles is seen coming out of a local strip club with a pair of midget strippers hanging off his hips. (What? Everybody else in this match has a fetish, why can’t i? Don’t judge me…….I SAID DON’T JUDGE!!) He gets a call from Jesse to meet him at some warehouse for an amazing discovery. Knuckles hangs them both on a coat hanger for later and rushes to the warehouse. (What did I say about judging me?) Ventura pulls out some pictures that make Knuckles eyes bulge out with excitement as he snatches them away to get a cheap look at what he THINKS will be the best pair of breasts he’s ever seen only to be let down at the site of “Andy Tits” and “Glenn Legend”.

Knuckles: Ok Jesse, what I did give midget poon up for?

Jesse: Well John…..What? Midget poon?

Knuckles: Long story, please don’t change the subject.

Jesse: Anyways, I found something out that was very interesting to say the least.

Knuckles: So it’s true? Serena has Legendary Tits?

Jesse: Uh….not exactly. Look closer….

Knuckles: I don’t get it……am I seeing what I think I’m seeing?

Jesse: Yes you are John and it’s only the beginning. Serena is actually……ALL THREE OF THEM.

Knuckles: How is that possible?

Jesse: There’s more to the conspiracy than that John. Keep looking.

Knuckles: Is that……

Jesse: Yes it is……….That’s FRED SAVAGE!!

Knuckles: OH MY GOD, FRED SAVAGE IS THE GREATEST ACTOR EVER!!

Jesse: Lots of makeup and rubber suits make ALL the difference.

Knuckles shakes Ventura’s hand and thanks him for a job well done. He realizes now why things went down the way they did and understand that this was the only way to expose the “conspiracy” that is known as UWF. Now it’s time to start training for the upcoming Survive and Conquer match. The scene fades off and cuts in as Jason Kash and Christian Gallos are getting out of a limo somewhere in the Bronx in front of a tall apartment building where Knuckles resides.

Gallos: For Christ sakes Jason, why can’t Knuckles get a nice house somewhere on the upper eastside. He has more than enough money.

Kash: I think he doesn’t like to spoil himself. Just like me, we live rough and poor so we don’t lose focus in fights. It’s a mental thing.

Gallos: That’s all well and good but this place is beneath you guy’s standards. Rats run around here freely. You sure none of you would much rather prefer a nice condo in Manhattan?

Kash: I’m pretty sure Christian. We didn’t get to where we are today by pampering ourselves in the lap of luxury.

Kash and Gallos begin their climb up the 10 flights of stairs to get to Knuckles apartment. The scene briefly cuts away and cuts back as they show Kash walking up to the final floor as Gallos is gasping for breath behind him. Kash just looks at Gallos and smiles and he finally grabs the banister and climbs up the last step.

Kash: Not the physical type eh Chris?

Gallos: They couldn’t have built a damn elevator?

Kash: HA HA, I’m telling you it’s part of the training. If I were Knuckles, I would run these at least 5 times a day.

Gallos: Wait, do you hear that?

A sound can be heard coming from down the hall. It almost sounds like music. Gallos finishes catching his breath as him and Kash start walking down the hall only for the music to get louder. They can’t figure out who it is but it sounds like Michael Jackson.

Money...Lie for it….Spy for it….Kill for it….Die for it
So you call it trust; But I say it's just
In the devil's game; Of greed and lust
They don't care; They'd do me for the money
They don't care; They use me for the money
So you go to church; Read the Holy word
In the scheme of life; It's all absurd
They don't care; They'd kill for the money
Do or dare; The thrill for the money
You're saluting the flag; Your country trusts you
Now you're wearing a badge; You're called the "Just Few"
And you're fighting the wars; A soldier must do
I'll never betray or deceive you my friend but...
If you show me the cash; Then I will take it
If you tell me to cry; Then I will fake it
If you give me a hand; Then I will shake it
You'll do anything for money...
Anything….Anything
Anything for money
Would lie for you
Would die for you
Even sell my soul to the devil…..

Kash and Gallos make it to the end of the hall and open the door to find Johnny knuckles and Nate Bishop playing The Michael Jackson Experience in the Wii. They stand there in shock as they watch them make fools of themselves trying to dance like Michael. Knuckles is even wearing the studded white glove that the game came with on his left hand while he plays the game with the controller in his right. Kash tries his best to hold in every ounce of laughter he can while he pulls out his phone and starts recording this. Finally after a few moments, Kash can’t hold it in anymore and just bursts into laughter making Knuckles and Bishop stop dead in their tracks.

Kash: Oh My God, this is SOOOOO going on YouTube.

Knuckles: It’s not what you think……

Gallos: Why were you dancing like jackasses? And why are you eating jerky Nate? (HA, I was able to sneak it in….)

Bishop: It’s part of the training…….Sorry.

Nate puts down the jerky.

Gallos: Come again? I pay you guys to hurt people and dominate, not prance around like little school girls.

Kash: HA HA HA, with the glove on no less.

Knuckles: Well I tried wearing it on the right hand but the remote flew out of my hand and broke the other TV we were using.

They all look over and see the 50” TV that was broken by the Wii remote earlier. Kash shakes his head, pulls out his baton and shocks the shit out of Knuckles sending him to the floor convulsing. After a few moments, Knuckles stop twitching in pains and slowly gets back up.

Gallos: I just bought that for you for Christmas Johnny.

Knuckles: So I’ll buy another.

Gallos: Ok, so what exactly was the logic behind all this huh? Is this how you want the Free Agents to view us as?

Knuckles: Fuck the Free Agents. I rep Dangertainment and I could care less how anybody thinks of me anyways. The fact is; we were recognized by Level One as not only a bunch of brutal individuals, but as a group of men with intelligence. The only reason we walk around with them in the first place is to make a statement and shock the APW/IWC world.

Gallos: So what does that have to do with this?

Knuckles: Well, the Survive and Conquer match has a half a million dollar purse to the victor. So there are 40 people in the match with one thing on their mind….MONEY. So I figured by rocking out to “Money” by Michael Jackson, I could gain the edge and pull out a win.

Gallos: By dancing?

Bishop: It’s a mental game. The dancing is just to get into the mindset.

Knuckles: Exactly, each and every person in that match would do ANYTHING for the money. Half a mill? Wouldn’t you? Everybody can think all they want that I’m a moron but in the end, I’ll be the guy who sees through their game plans and work my way up.

Gallos: Ok, well I commend you on your work ethic John.

Kash shakes his head and starts laughing his ass off again as they continue their “training” and the scene fades.


What do they steal?
Why do they steal?
Haven't they there own?

Where?

Everywhere some child or innocent one has left them unprotected
Not of ignorance or shallow thinking
They aren't hidden do to love
Hope and a sincere belief in all men
There would be no need to bury them in dark, cold holes
Where no life could possibly spring from their loved thoughts
Wouldn't ever feel a need to lock them away either

What does a thief gain?

Unfortunately even the most ignorant;
vile and irresponsible idiot can gain from dreamers

How?

By aligning or shadowing those innocent, child-like, free and naive
that have proved to be gifted in any area
Stealth like and patiently they wait for an idea
or gift they have no right to claim
Consuming and copying whatever has been offered up by those still free enough
inside to dream

When?

Every moment, every second day in and day out
throughout mankind it will never end for those selected few who have been chosen
or bestowed the honor

It is a fantastic and horrid breath that utters hope
that this love should be shared
Not raped or stolen?

My wish is not to punish the thieves
But simply be given a chance to dream or not

When I die, I feel it won't be from another's sword
But by the unstoppable heartbeat of dreams
My own?

"Thieves of Dreams" by Jake Roberts

Knuckles: Jake “The Snake” Roberts had a lot of demons in his life. Those demons are what stole his dreams away. Sad isn’t it? This represents the 40 participants in the Survive and Conquer match. Each and everybody in this match are thieves looking to steal the dream of the person next to them one way or another, including myself. I would not dare hesitate to steal anybody’s dream in this match what-so-ever. Am I perfect? No, nobody is; especially when there’s $500,000 on the line. So what separates me from anybody else in the match? Well considering that everybody in the match is going to win, I guess nothing right? Everybody is going to win and the grand prize will be split 40 ways giving everybody in it about $12,500. Sounds like a pretty sweet deal. But what about the thousands in attendance that’s also going to win? What about the millions watching at home that will win it? That makes that piece of the pie get smaller and smaller until everybody ends up OWING money.

People just don’t wanna’ seem realistic anymore; ever realize that? There can only be one winner and nobody in this match has the ability to SURVIVE like I do. So how am I different from anybody else? I’ve been a survivor my whole life. I was abandoned and thrown into the streets at 6 years old. What kind of parents would do such a thing? I was forced to live under bridges and eat out of garbage cans until I was found by a mob family whose name will remain nameless. It was there that I learned that not only do I need to fight to get what I needed, but to take what I wanted. I eventually became the family muscle. Sounds like the premise to a shitty online game right? But that’s the truth. My anger, my lust grew stronger and I had to find a way to satisfy my outlet. So I turned to professional wrestling, something that would let me hurt people on a regular basis without the likes of Johnny Law up my ass. This is who I am, this is what I do. I love to hurt people and make them suffer. As the influx of MMA began to surface, just like anybody who loves good competition, I figured I needed to learn to recognize it in case something comes up and how to get around it. So I trained the basics in certain MMA styles as a precaution. AM I an expert? Not by far, do I claim to be? Never. No matter what I do or how hard I try, I will ALWAYS be a street smart brawler from NYC.

Throughout my career I’ve acquired championship after championship. None of that really matters. In this day and age, everybody at some point has become some sort of champion. That doesn’t mean shit here at Survive and Conquer. You have 40 people who are all talented in some way, shape, or form and have proven themselves out in the world. What DOES matter is who is at the top of that heap. The current champions in this match who have the best potential in winning. Do I fear any of them? Hell no, I never have. Just because you’re successful, doesn’t mean you’re guaranteed a win.

“Anybody can beat anybody on any given day…..”

I believe this. It’s this reasoning that I don’t take anybody lightly. That comes with being street smart in the industry. I have no problem being patient and waiting for the chance for you to make a mistake and take full advantage of it. On that same note, I’m also not afraid to go head first and balls out. If it takes me bum rushing you to throw you off your game plan, then I will. If you don’t believe me then you can ask my partner in crime, Jason Kash, just exactly what would happen. For those who don’t know, Jason Kash and I were had the biggest rivalry in the wrestling industry back in 08’. Like he mentioned, we know each other very well. That’s because we made each other bleed from one end of the country to the next. It sold out every arena we ever stepped foot in and made tons of money. So when we were approached by Christian Gallos, it only made sense that we would become the most dominate group this industry will ever see. We bring out the best in each other and big out the best in all those around us. Whether you’re with us or against us, you look at us and see a major threat. You know that you will get the best fight out of any of us in Dangertainment and will go out of your way to not look retarded as you’re on the way down. Yes, we WILL be working together. We WILL be in the final four. That’s just not enough though. We want the chance to rip each other apart like animals just because we love a good fight. Us making it to the final four mean huge ratings and thousands of seats filled. Hell, they’re already filled knowing that Kash and I are already in the match alone.

Now, I notice that we are on opposite ends of the drawings and notice that I got entrants #14 while he got #26. So making it that far will be tough but anything worth having in life takes a lot of work so it will be worth that much more to us. Ya see though, it’s just not about Dangertainment. The Free Agents have decided to align with us, the past couple weeks, in order to SHOCK the APW/IWC roster. Just like our past organization, people have seen fit to group up together against us, change their name to emulate us, and even mimic our actions. Dangertainment has that effect on people. Even to this day; we’re talked about to help their ratings. L-O, Ryan Ruckus, and James Logan will do what they have to during the match. Considering that they are top contenders to win, I wouldn’t expect anything less from them. Just realize guys that IF and WHEN it comes down to The Free Agents vs Dangertainment in the final four, we will not waste any time in ripping any of you apart. Nothing personal but a half a million says that for one night, we don’t owe each other a damn thing. Keaton Saint is another guy expecting to make it all the way. Sorry about your luck Saint, but as long as the 5 of us are in the match, the odds of you getting that far quickly diminish.

Cobra, Pence Weatherlight; well……two more men that are seen as making their way towards the finals. Great for you. Maybe they’ll make another match where you guys CAN be the final two, but in the meantime, go ahead and grab the rest of the talentless trash in the match and have a big circle jerk. Just so you guys can feel like you contributed in some way. Next we have Sally Talfourd, a woman who is the current APW World Champ and rightfully so. Maybe she’ll do something where she flashes a bunch of texts on the screen trying to talk trash about people. Gee, THAT sounds very exciting. Perhaps she’ll go to a chat room where a bunch of online morons will praise her. That’s something people would wanna’ watch. Or maybe some web show where she looks like she has talent other than her looks. Regardless of being the current champ Sally the only reason you’re in this match is to fluff the guys after they get eliminated. That’s why you got a late number. I will not hesitate to hurt you the first chance I get; remember that. Just be grateful that I’m not interested in becoming World Champ just yet. Then we have our old friend Branden Harvey. Hey Branden, you never DID answer my question last time…..does a bear shit in the woods? You’re probably still there looking for something good to shoot as a promo. That’s why you spent our last encounter from the Nasty 8 tournament talking about how great of a fighter I am, way to put out the effort guy. Oh and by the way, sorry about your chances of winning this match pal, the high fly style just won’t cut it here. The first chance I get, soon as you spring board off anything, I’ll cram your teeth down your throat. Go ask Gabriel Aligheri in UWF just exactly how that tastes. For some reason, he LOVED that flavor week after week. Maybe you can pair up with Sally and find a good idea? i know it’s tough to find an original concept for anything these days but if you spend your time together watching old shoots of CWC and copy a gimmick from 10 years ago. You might have a chance then.

I wanna’ make this perfectly clear, I WILL be the Xtreme Champion relatively soon. It’s just a matter of time. Guys like me have a tendency to grab a random title, and make its value sky rocket. The Xtreme Championship will be no different and I will make it worth MORE than Sally’s piece of tarnished tin. So whether I have to go through Diamante, Harvey, Phoenix, Mickey Mantle, Grandma, I really don’t care. As for the rest of the gang in the match; I beg you to heed this warning. I will be coming full force. I take NONE of you lightly and plan on making each and every person there bleed at some point. How? A simple strategy I like to call Tai Pei. That’s right guys, I’m coming to the ring with broken glass glued to my taped fists and there isn’t a damn thing any of you can do about it. None of you will be able to get the job done and when all is said and done, you will all take me seriously and know that Dangertainment is everything we say we are. I might seem like some stupid muscle bound guinea but while you’re taking me lightly, I’ll be throwing you out. Guys like Kash and me have spent our careers fighting the likes of Roughkut legends like Brad Jackson and Shane Clemmens. I would love nothing more than to show the world how Clemmens is nothing more than the poster child for birth control. THERE ISN’T A FED HEAD HERE TO HELP YOU WIN A MATCH HERE SHANE!!

Yea, I rub people the wrong way. (Really now?) Not like that you pervert. I piss people off and it throws them off their game. So go ahead and go to church and PRAY that I don’t hurt you that bad and try to make it to the finals of the match. You will need all the help you can get but just realize this…..Where exactly in the Bible does it say a man can’t fire off some knuckle children in the privacy of his own neighbor’s living room, while his neighbor is at work because I don’t have a DVD player? Well I don’t know where it says it because the Bible is way too long to read. (Too random?) Anyways, while people like Ebon and Gates seem to think that they may be over looked to win it; understand that you aren’t over looked, just forgotten. Nobody cares what you think and know that you won’t get that far. You guys will need something more substantial that the ability to take off your underwear, flick them up with your foot and catching it with one hand all in one fluid motion. (Hey I’ve done that before.) Good luck though, just like the rest of the match winning wannabe’s I hope you guys bring it and bring it hard. (Wow is your mind really in the gutter that deep?) That way when you’re shut down and shut out, there’s no excuses for why you couldn’t get the job done.

The Top Ten Reasons Johnny Knuckles Will Win The Survive And Conquer Match:

10: “Survive” is in his blood, his soul, and in his entrance music….(Survival of the sickest by Saliva)

9: He has candy…(?)

7: You just smiled…

6: You just noticed there was no number 8 and smiled again…

5: He is Level One approved…

4: He is a founding father of the Elite group, Dangertainment…

3: You won’t find head lice in his scalp…

2: He made you check your head for lice while craving candy… (Really?)

8: At least he isn’t Andy Titsuhiro from UWF…(That’s not nice, and why is 8 down here?)

AND THE NUMBER ONE REASON HE WILL WIN THE SURVIVE AND CONQUER MATCH IS………..

1: The amount of time he took getting you to realize that he doesn’t have any candy without the $500,000. (Candy from where? Neptune?)




Disclaimer: The likeliness of all characters depicted in the making of this promo cannot be confirmed or denied. Basically, nobody cares whether you think they were real or not. SUCK ON THAT SOCIETY!!



Words: 3,855

[SalTal]

Internet Explorer - *click* - Favorites - *click* - APW.com - *click* - Survive and Conquer - *click* - Sally Talfourd - *click* - Loading ...

"Sally Talfourd presents ..."

is written across the screen, fades out, then

"In association with Action Packed Wrestling"

is next to appear, holds, then fades out for

"Happy Endings T.V."

which fades out to a shot of Sally Talfourd, dressed down in her training gear (the latest black 'Happy Ending' sweat available at APW.com). She's running away on a treadmill in an empty gym. Why is it empty? We'll find out later. She's got her earphones in as she's running. She notices Shane and nods at him – no smile this week, not with the looming clouds ahead of her. She taps a button on the controls and she slowly comes to a walk.

When there's nowhere else to run
Is there room for one more son
One more son
If you can hold on
If you can hold on
Hold on

[Sally] Hey ... welcome to this ... Happy Ending ... I'm doing my laps ... getting those endurance levels up. *Sally starts to get her breath back, able to get more than a couple of words out at a time* As everyone knows, Survive and Conquer is my next match, and if I'm going to go out there and survive to the end and conquer everyone else in that match, then I'm going to have to be able to endure a heck of a lot.

Sally punches the off button, stops, and rolls off the back. She grabs her towel and waterbottle from the bench, then starts to wipe her face down. She finally pulls out her earphones, resting them over her collar where the cord winds up under her shirt. The song, still playing, creates a faint buzz, and every now and then, a tune and a few words can be heard. Yeah, Sally listens to her music too loud.

I wanna stand up, I wanna let go
You know, you know - no you don't, you don't
I wanna shine on in the hearts of men
I want a meaning from the back of my broken hand

[Shane] How are you feeling?

[Sally] Really Shane? We've got limited air-time and we're going to go with puff questions? *Sally looks a little mad. It's probably the nerves, probably the stress of the past few weeks, and probably the excitement for the chance at this exclusive opportunity* You might as well follow up with *Sally putting on a deep, man's voice* “What do you rate your chances?”

[Shane] Well ...

[Sally] No Shane! This isn't any other match. It's not any other show. And it's not any other pay-per-view. Survive and Conquer: second biggest show of the year! People from all over the wrestling industry have come to APW to win this match. Let's get down to the real stuff

[Shane] Don't you want to introduce yourself?

[Sally] I'm not going to introduce myself like those other twits. I have a few more important things to do with my time. If they don't know who I am by now, then you haven't done your research, haven't paid attention, and don't deserve a spot in the match. People like Ebon want to treat this like some sort of reunion show? A meeting of the 'Old Boys' club? Fine. Big whoop that you have all known each other for sixteen years to the date and so-and-so gave you your first lost and it's been a rager of a feud ever since! Think about that and that alone. I know three things that will happen because of it: First, you'll write me off and think not even a minute about having to have to face me. Second, because you overlooked me and wrote me off, I'll get further than you in this match. And third, the man that everyone is talking about – Level-One – won't be so naïve and stupid as to ignore me, will meet me in the finals, and then we'll do battle again.

Sally tosses her towel to the bench and takes a long drink from the bottle, finishing up with a satisfied 'Ahhh'. Ok, so the gym is empty for a good reason: It should be. See that clock hanging off the wall over Sally's shoulder ... just there? It says midnight. Ok, so some gyms are 24-hours, but this one isn't. Sally went looking for it specifically – to find a place to be all but alone. To replicate that feeling in the ring. Sure, the crowds might be cheering, music might be blaring, and someone is talking trash while they've got in a hold. But to the professional – the true professional – the silence in the ring during a match is deafening. All you can hear is your heart, your body, and your mind. The three weapons anyone needs in a match like this.

Another head aches, another heart breaks
I am so much older than I can take
And my affection, well it comes and goes
I need direction to perfection, no no no no

[Sally] Let's get down to what the match is really about. Your starting number? That's just the start. Winning and losing? That's just the end. Miles of columns have been written about those already: Who will win and lose? What does it mean if so-and-so comes in at random-number? That is all just ... stuff. What matters, what reaaally matters, is the middle. How good are you at handling one opponent? Two? Three? While there's a bunch of pairing-offs going on? How good are you at organizing chaos in your own mind? Because that's what all this is going to be. Chaos organised. It's just a question of who has the talent, skill and tenacity to actually step up and take control. It doesn't have to be the biggest or the strongest or the fastest. It just has to be that one person who can focus on the end result and see each opportunity for what it is.

Which is exactly what someone needs to do to win this match: Take every opportunity that comes. The fastest person might set the pace, strongest person might set the level, biggest person might set the tone. At the end of each of these matches, it's the person who grabbed each chance that they saw and made something of it. They didn't try to big-note themselves to make a career-defining move with each elimination – something we'll see from Pence Weatherlight as he tries to restart his career and get back into the spotlight after he couldn't handle it anymore. The winners of these matches didn't try and eliminate every person to prove some point, like those scavengers in the Free Agency will try to do. And winners of these matches didn't hide, play coy, then eat-up the end scraps like some of those later entrants – the Branden Harvey's, Lilly Rose's, James Logan's. People who think that they can ride their late entry to victory.

Sally stands up from the bench, dropping the bottle on the towel, then turning back to the camera with an earnest look that disguises her emotions for the match. Emotions. Emotions are what makes or breaks a wrestler's match. The professional – the true professional – they can put them in the back of their mind and not be driven by them. A cool head wins a match like this. Focus. Determination. Already before the match has started, people have shown that their efforts will be spoiled by their emotions. Pence walked out last week and told everyone that they suck. That he was the best. That he was going to win. Oh sure, he singled out the Free Agency, but he let slip true feelings – that he wants to take each and every person down in the ring. If he can last to the half-way point, he will get a chance to see Sally in all her focused and determined glory. Pence showed that he, along with others, can't hide emotions. But I digress. Sally reties her hair behind her head, trying to look a little presentable. She is APW's face after all. She turns to look at herself with the mirror and ... sees herself. And suddenly takes on the guilt that has been weighing her down for the past few weeks. She flattens her hair down in places With a heaving sigh she mumbles to herself.

Help me out
Yeah, you know you got to help me out
Yeah, oh don't you put me on the blackburner
You know you got to help me out

[Sally] Chris Defoe ... *The man she was forced into a deal with. She finishes with her hair, then turns around with a look of intrigue – the same intrigue that took her to Toronto a week ago ...* BDC! Me getting into this match has sort of hinged on you. I'm glad I've got someone like you on my side. You see, you're big, tough, and rough. You're the guy who strolls into a ring and clears house like you'd done it before. I'm not going to, you know, use you for that end. But I'm mindful of that. I'm also mindful of the fact that you could turn on me in a flash. But, I don't think you're so silly to do that. What's an easier win for you: Eliminating me as soon as you get in, then having to beat Level-One or one of his lackeys at the end? Or not eliminating me and then having to face me one-on-one to get the win? You're not stupid, you know a good deal when you see one. And the one we made was perfect for you. So, you know, come into the match, clear house, dominate, but be smart about it. Be smart about the people you throw out and the people you don't throw out. When the dust is settled, then we'll sort out who is the real victor and who is the real loser. Just be smart, Chris. Be smart.

If you're smart, and we get out act together, there's some select people that we need to get rid of. *Sally shakes it all off – the guilt, the intrigue, that vein of flirtation, to look all serious. She takes a seat back on the bench, beside her things, leaning on her knees with the elbows. Shane crouches down below her to get her in shot* There's a handful of people I'm worried about, and one of them is this Keaton Saint chap. Rumor is that he's already got one of his little groupies to go and do some research on us. I should be flattered, but I'm a little worried. If someone is actually doing their due diligence on an opponent like me – and not, you know, writing me off - then that person is taking me serious. And if they're taking me serious, they know I'm a threat. *Sally lets out an ironic laugh, with a labored shake of the head* Then again, not talking about me suits me fine. I mean, when Jason Kash found the courage to pull out his thumb and talk about a real wrestler, he managed to ... congratulate me? For being a woman to hold a title? Please. He needs to wake up, smell the coffee, and realise we're in the 21st century, not the 1950s when women were only in the kitchen. I'm not special because I'm a woman holding a title. I'm special because I'm simply holding a title! Do people congratulate men on holding titles because they have a penis? Of course not! *Sally looks directly to the camera, the first sign of real rage on her face for the day* I don't want congratulations, Jason. I don't want to hear you give me a boots and whatnot. I want respect. And you could've started respecting me by finding out how I won my title. It wasn't in some singles match where a fool like you could win – it was at in an elimination chamber match. And I didn't skulk in last to clean up the scraps – I was the starting wrestler! So don't talk down to me thinking I'm a fluke or easy-beat. The only thing easy to beat in this match is you, and beating you both ways takes three seconds.

And when there's nowhere else to run
Is there room for one more son
These changes ain't changing me
The coldhearted boy I used to be

The thing that has really scared me with this tournament is the eye-opener it is to how many lunatics there are in the wrestling world. They're all over the place! There's someone I really hope isn't thinking about me at all: Victor Hades. The lunatic that plagued APW for a few short breaths while I was setting up my future – is back to defend. And good for him. I mean, between killing his therapist, bleeding across America, and having to balance up those voices he has in his head, it's a chance for him to step in the ring with a bunch of people who weren't in the match last year ... or are a whole lot better than last time he faced them ... or decided that he's the number one target to get rid of and made alliances to make sure he goes out early ... wait ... those aren't exactly good things, are they? *Sally feigns an exaggerated look of worry, sitting up straight* Sorry Victor. I didn't mean to burst your bubble ... please don't kill me. *Sally lets out a short, cute laugh to herself as she sits back and rests up against the wall. She stops to think, taps her chin, then her face lights up, remembering a name!* Oh! Mike Park – a man who is busy doing who know's what – robbing banks, blowing stuff up, killing people! What sort of rag-tag loons have invaded APW for this show? I mean, it feels like it was yesterday when I actually had to train hard to win a match ... oh wait, it was pretty much yesterday. Christmas Chaos, when I trained my ass off to get the win over Level-One. Oh!

Sally remembering a name of her fellow competitors. She tries her best not to laugh, but a chuckle escapes and echoes through the empty gym.

[Sally] Johnny Knuckles, I've something special for you. It's the most valuable thing you will get this week, considering you're not about to win Survive and Conquer. Know what it is? It's some attention! With me listening to your, you know, oh-so flattering comments about me, that would bring your audience to a grand total of three and a half. The half is some kid splitting time between listening to you and Tweeting about how much you suck. I find it funny when people like you meet people like me. Before the match, you're all huff-and-puff. When you're in the ring? You really show how much you're just hot air. The fact that you don't care enough to show me or my title some well-earned respect means nothing to me. I'm not in this business for your approval. I'm here because of the fans. The fans want to see wrestling and honor and respect. That's why millions watch me, and a couple dozen watch you. Now stop thinking before you give yourself a headache. *Sally, with a satisfied smile, crosses her arms. That'll teach someone to take to Sally with a verbal ... right?* There's Ryan Ruckus, the man revolutionizing the world one word at a time. I mean, Ruck being a drop-in word for the F-word? Genius! *Sally throws up her hands, oh-so sarcastically* It would take the intelligence of someone like you to make that pun-connection. What's a shame is that you're a drop-in for a real wrestler too. And much like your word play, you'll be forgotten by APW approximately 6.5 seconds after you're eliminated.

Of course, like many people, this match seems to bring me back to one person in particular. You see, there's one person in this match who knows me well. The one guy everyone is talking about. I guess I should, you know, put the fear into him myself. Because I think I'm the only one in the match that he will actually be afraid of. *Sally pauses for a moment, looks away from the camera with a look of reflection, then back with the determination on her face that we saw right before Christmas Chaos* Level-One. I might not have the length of history, the storied or personal history that others have with you. But I do know what I do have with you: Your most recent losses. I was the last person to beat you. And before that. And before that. In fact, I'm responsible for your last three pinnings. And sure, you might not need to pin anyone in this match, but what it shows you is that I'm capable of beating you. That shouldn't just have you worried but everyone! Everyone is talking about you like you're the person to beat. Well, I beat you time and time again. So it would seem I'm the woman to beat. Which makes it even better that no one is talking about me. And that's why I went to desperate lengths to make sure that I've the best chance to beat you. This won't be like One Night. It won't be like Christmas Chaos. Oh sure, the results will be the same. But the end of the night? The match won't be anything like you expect. My performance won't be like anything you expect. And the result – if you're still blinded by ignorance and thinking that you will win – won't be like anything you expect.

Sally stands, then collects her things up. She is careful with her towel, her delicate touch folding it over ever-so-neatly. The bottle she tucks under her arm. You wouldn't have guessed that, what? Fifteen minutes ago she was stepping off the treadmill, out of breath, a work of sweat. Now she looks like she's walking in for the first time. And that's her secret: Endurance. The ability to endure the hard matches, the hard tolls, the hard times.

Over and out, last call for sin
While everyone's lost, the battle is won
With all these things that I've done
All these things that I've done
If you can hold on
If you can hold on
Hold on

[Sally] For everyone out there, in this match, it doesn't matter where you came last year, this year is all that matters. This year. With these wrestlers. In this match ... *Sally trails off, then starts to nod, a realisation dawning on her that, really, she's know deep down since she was seeded in the match* In this match ... In this match, there's more up for grabs than a simple win. There's more than a half-million dollars. The spirit of this match is up for grabs. I think that's something that entrants quickly lose sight of when they're just glory hunting. And because no one here is standing up for, you know, the reality of what this match is all about, we all can know what most people in this match are here for: glory. They just want titles. They just want accolades. They just want a line of the resume. Me? Sally Talfourd? I'm not here for all that; I'm here for the industry that has treated me so well. I'm here for the business that has given me so much. I'm here to represent wrestling as best as I can. I want the person, the girl who's turning on wrestling for the first time, or the boy who gave up watching because he got teased for it, I want them to see a true wrestler. I want them to see a person with integrity, who has respect and is respected, and who isn't a disgrace to their name. I want them to turn on and see someone who works hard for their opportunities, their breakthroughs, and their achievements. I want them to turn on and see me, standing in the ring, at the end of Survive and Conquer, celebrating a victory that is mine. That's what this match is about. It's not about making jokes, trashing everyone under the sun, abusing the fans and the wrestlers alike. No, it's about being true to one's self and working your ass off to get through the good and the hard times.

The past few weeks? The past few months even? They've been some hard times for me. Heck, since I walked into APW, it's been hard times. I had to fend off the person who wanted to end my career for over a year. But I fought through that and won. Then I had to face three men in one night – a really hard task for a woman. But I did it, and won Test For the Best. Then followed a string of hard times – some losses on OverDrive, attack after attack by Lester's hitmen, and a loss at Shockwave in my first title match. But I fought through them. I fought with every single ounce of strength that I had in me to get back up. To dust myself off. To refuse to wallow and cry in the dirt! I got up and what happened? I went into One Night in Hell, started that elimination chamber match, and that hard time ended in the sweetest moment of my career: winning the APW championship. But it doesn't end there, as most things don't in wrestling. Level-One made a misery of my life, topping it off when he put my best friend in this business. Week after week, I had to find the strength to go through more turmoil and more hard times. But I had the grit and I had the determination and I haven't been pinned since I won this belt. Not with Lester after me, not with rising stars after me, and not with some of the hardest matches in front of me. I defeated Level-One at Christmas Chaos. I turned all those hard times into another sweet moment of joy when I started 2011 as APW Champion and having thrown that monkey off my shoulder. Then what happens? Survive and Conquer starts to get mentioned and I get attacked by some masked man, then this Free Agency crops up.

So if you, Lester, or you, Ryan Ruckus, or you, Keaton Saint, or you, Pence, or you BDC, or anyone else!, think that putting pressure on me, making me stress, and making this be yet another hard time that I have to break and fight and scrape through? Guess what – that's just like any other week here in APW for me. And you know how they turn out? Good. They turn out so good for me. This might even be the sweetest moment that APW has for me. The fact that I'm fighting for APW? That means the moment might just be the sweetest for the company when the current champion, the most professional, talented, loved and adored megastar brings the win to APW where it truly belongs. A sweet moment for wrestling, for me, but most importantly: for APW.

Sally heads off and pops her headphones in, headed through the gym to keep on her regime. As she leaves, Shane needs just one question answered.

[Shane] Sally! *Sally stops, turns, removes an earphone* Fans will want to know what you're listening to while you worked out!

[Sally] A great song. It's by The Killers – 'All These Things That I Have Done'.

Sally winks, turns away. The shot fades out on Sally contemplating the monumental show on Sunday. Fade to black, then

"Sally Talfourd"

is handwritten across the screen, in purple, fades out and the episode comes to a close.

[T-Marv]

The scene opens in black and white color in an old looking brick building. It seems to be a cross between an Apartment Building, and an office building with a lot of activity going on. The camera heads down the hall, past the bustling activity and turns down a side hallway that leads to a more secluded office. The camera focuses up close on the sign on the front of the door.

Jack Carbon
Private Detective

The door opens slowly and the camera peers into the dimly lit office. Sitting in a chair behind a big cluttered desk is a man in a brown trench coat and a hat covering most of his face. His feet are up on the desk as an almost empty bottle of scotch is sitting on the corner next to his feet. He is leaned back in his chair, and even though we can't see his closed eyes, the snoring is a dead giveaway that he is sleeping. We now hear a Voice Over narration describe the scene.

January twenty-sixth, two thousand and eleven. I was just minding my own business and taking some personal time between cases. I just got done with this dussie where A wrestler by the name of Brandon Harvey begged me to help him find his lost Talent. I searched high and low, all over this country to find out that this man duped me. He sent me looking for something that DOESN'T exist! See, I specialize in cases revolved around the sport of Professional Wrestling....

During the voiceover, the man in the chair seems to stir. His face still appears hidden to us, but he seems still half drunk. He looks around groggily, and finds what he's been searching for.... the last swig in his bottle of scotch. After the drink, he lets his arm fall down and the bottle crashes to the ground as he drifts off again.

I found some comfort in the bottom of a bottle of single malt scotch. See, I was sick and tired of these moronic wrestlers coming in here thinking that they’re the best the world has to offer when in reality they're the bottom of the fucking barrel. I was tired of these lame cases and was ready for my next challenge. And as that thought passed through my dream, as if a symbol of things to come, there came a knock at my door...

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK. The fine, curvy silhouette outline of a woman appears behind the glass of the door. startled by the sound, Jack loses balance as the chair tips backwards and falls, crashing to the ground. We see Jack hop up, and dust himself off, seeming embarrassed. He picks the chair up and looks to the door. HE sees the silhouette and a slight whistle comes out of his lips. He puts a hand to his mouth, blows on it and smells his own breath. He cringes and takes another swig of the whiskey to wash it out. He then sits down and tries to make himself seem distinguished.

Jack Carbon: "It's open, come in. "

I didn't know what to expect when she walked in the door, but I got more than I bargained for. A thin little thing, dark hair down to the crack of her ass, golden smooth legs all the way up to her neck. I swallowed hard and cleared my throat. The top couple of buttons of her white see through blouse were unbuttoned as her heaving cleavage busted out the top. She was wearing a short tan mini skirt that would have required a hairnet to enter any Kitchen in America. I couldn't wait to hear what she had to say....unfortunately, my hand already reached down my pants and I was imagining her naked on top of me. So anything she said would probably go right through my ears....

Woman: "Get your hand off your dick and listen to me...."

Except for that.

Woman: "I've got a case for you, and it's a very important case. I need the best detective in the world to get on it. Are you the Best Mr. Carbon?"

I wanted to say yes.... Unfortunately I had just downed an entire bottle of scotch. My words weren't cooperating very well, so my yes came out something like this....

Jack goes to say something, but a feeling hits his stomach. He hurriedly reaches down and grabs a trash can, pulling it up to his face and puking violently into it. He puts the can down, opens the drawer on his desk, pulls out a bottle of Scope and washes out the vomit from his mouth. He then puts it away and smiles at the woman who looks extremely disgusted by this.

Jack Carbon: "I am the very best Detective...in my area, which I must tell you ma'am is not very glamorous. "

Woman: "I know... You're a wrestling detective. You take cases from and about wrestlers, and wrestlers only."

It was like she was reading my mind.

Woman: "I'm not reading your mind. I've heard about your reputation, and I know you're the one who could find what I'm looking for."

Jack Carbon: "Well lady, I been in a bit of a slump lately. I can't make you no promises, but I'll do my damndest. What is it you need?"

The woman sits down in the chair and pulls out a folder, holding it in her hands.

Destiny: "I am Destiny, and I'm trying to find the one person who can Save the future of wrestling. I'm trying to figure out which of these people are chosen. Mr. Carbon, have you ever heard of Survive and Conquer?"

Have I heard of it? What a stupid fucking question. Everybody who's in ANY way involved with the wrestling business has heard of it. It's one of the biggest cross promotional matches in the world. 40 superstars...one big battle royal.

Jack Carbon: "Course I heard of it. It's one hell of a big deal, but what about it?"

Destiny: "You see Mr. Carbon, I need to choose the person who I think is worthy of winning the battle, who's worthy of becoming the Survive and Conquer Champion. However, I've looked through all these names, and I'm having a problem figuring it out. None of them seem worthy, and It feels like I'm missing something. I need you to weed through them and figure it out."

She hands the file to Jack who opens it up, and begins to go over some of the names.

Jack Carbon: "Okay, I hear ya, but what the hell do you mean chosen? What's all this about you have to decide who's worthy?"

Jack looks up from the folder, and Destiny is gone.

Just like that, she was gone. At first, I tried to pass it of due to my drunken stupor, but I still held the folder in my hand. I opened the folder up and Took a look through the Names, profiles, and pictures. There were some famous names, a few washed up has beens, and a couple nobodies who were kidding themselves by even being in this match. I riffled through them, laughing at myself, and Trying to pull a gem out of this bunch of rubble. To be honest, it was quite ridiculous.

The scene transitions to a bit of a montage where Jack is sitting on his floor and has all the pictures and profiles spread out, he's pacing back and forth, looking all over them.

It was the most grueling thing I've ever had to do in my life. The task seemed overwhelming, like I'd never get through all this. BUT it turned out to be a little easier than I thought. I just had to find out who to start with. First, we'll eliminate the absolute bullshit. Those who don't deserve to be mentioned...but will be.

Jack Carbon picks up one of the photos and laughs to himself.

Jack Carbon: "Ace Andrews.... Damn, what a disappointing life you've had huh? You were once destined for greatness, but you've since stalled out in Ring of Pride, and you've lost all your momentum. You tried riding the coattails of the Greatest Wrestler alive today, but you've failed. Well, Mr. Andrews, it seems the deck has been stacked against you, your bluff's been called, and you're down to your last chip. Do yourself a favor and put it in your pocket, go down to the five and dime and get yourself a new life...this one isn’t working out for you."

He takes Ace's folder and dumps it on the fire in the fireplace. He gathers up a few more profiles including Kenny Kasual, Masamune, UltraMarcus, James Varga, Travis Miller, and other unnamable jokes and tosses them in the fire as well.

I was down to about twenty who actually looked like they should be in this match. Time to weed out the week, the pretenders who could someday be something but aren't there yet, and the over the hill, washed up has-beens looking for one more chance to shine....

Jack Carbon: "Ah, here is Brandon Harvey, who I think I already mentioned is the most UNTALENTED person in this ENTIRE tournament, yes even worse than Kenny Kasual. But he does have a whole lot of heart....SO WHAT? That and a dollar will get you a cup of coffee. HE ran his mouth big time last week, only to get his words shoved right back in his throat! Now he thinks he's going to run through this match and win that half a million dollars? This kid truly is delusional. The only thing 'Supersonic' about this fool is the sound made when his ass falls FLAT on the mat and the ref counts 3 so fast that the entire arena experiences sonic boom! He tries, like the little engine that could...unfortunately, I think he's run all out of gas."

Jack Laughs at himself before 'faking' to wipe his ass with the profile and throw it in the trash. HE picks up one more, looks at it and scoffs before he begins to shuffle them around. The scene takes on a bit of a montage as he goes through file after file, tossing some aside, and putting others in a pile.

It seemed like ages that I was going through all these profiles until I came down to just TWO that I thought were worthy. As I went through I realized that the little dunce Destiny only gave me 39 names. Figures, can never rely on a woman. Which is why my final two was so Ironic.

He spreads out the two profiles one next to the other. He looks them all over, saying them out loud

Jack Carbon: "Level One....leader of sorts of the Free Agency. He has certainly taken this place by storm as of late, and has made plenty of enemies, including another name on my list. He has seemed to amass a large group of Free Agents so to speak. They have reaked havoc lately on APW, and he is building up momentum FAST. However, is it enough? Has he built up enough momentum to conquer the rest of the competitors? "

He moves on to the final one pauses for a second.

Jack Carbon: "And of course.....Sally Talfourd. She is far and away the favorite going into this match. I mean, she is the APW world champion. She has stood down to any challengers she's faced. She won the War Treaty Tournament late last year. She’s definitely got the most momentum running into this. But is she over rated? Has she peeked to quickly? Does she just have TOO Big a target on her back with everybody and their mother gunning for her, wanting to be the one to ELIMINATE Sally Talfourd? Can she SURVIVE?"

He looks back and forth between the three, unable to decide.

Sure... all three were viable options. Sure, all three had the chance to win this thing. But something didn't feel right, something felt VERY off. It was like there was something missing, like not all the pieces were here. And that's when it happened....

We hear the sound of rustling paper under the door. Jack looks over and sees a note laying face down just under the door. He walks over and picks it up. He turns it over and reads the big bold letters on it. I KNOW WHO YOU SEEK.....FOLLOW ME. As he reads he hears footsteps running down the hall

I don't know what clicked in my head in that moment. But every fiber in my body was telling me to follow this person, like all the answers I needed would be revealed in just a few short moments. So, I did. As I got into the hall way, I just saw them disappear around the corner. So I chased on.

Jack runs down the hallway just in time to see the person hit the stairs. Jack runs after them and down the stairs. He looks around, losing site of this person, but notices the front door of the building closing. HE runs outside and at this point loses sight of them. He looks around and sees a mailman walking buy.

Jack Carbon: "Hey Bub... did you see someone storm out of this building?"

Mail Guy: "Boy did I! She ducked down that ally behind the building. What a slick looking dame... Not hiding much in that mini skirt, and those LEGS! whooo...they just kept going for miles. "

Could it Be Destiny? What the hell was going on here? I had to find out, so I thanked the guy and hurried back down the alley. I came to a dead end, and still saw nothing. After a couple minutes I noticed that a door was propped open. I figured...why not.

Jack slid in through the door to a dark empty hall way. He squints to see through the dim light and makes his way into a small entrance room. Sitting there on a desk was a folder just like the others. The note on the front said "Your man is in the next room."

What the hell is going on here. Why am I being led on this chase? I thought I was just being fucked with, but soon I was about to learn very differently. I opened up the folder, and there I saw a man who I only slightly recognized. It seemed as if it was from a different life, from a dream. He looked very familiar, but yet not so much.

He closed the folder and walked through the door. The large room was completely dark with the exception of a big object covered in a white cloth somewhere near the middle of the room, a spotlight illuminating it. Jack cautiously walks toward the object. As he gets closer, he notices a figure in a chair off to the side. He jumps, reaching for his gun, but it's not there. The person laughs slightly.

Destiny: "Relax 'Jack'....or have you accepted your real name yet."

Jack Carbon: "What the hell are you talking about? Why did you lead me on this wild goose chase?"

Destiny: "Still haven't figured it out yet have you? It's funny how the mind can just erase memories when you've talked yourself into believing too long that you're NOTHING. Do you not remember who you were? Makes no difference. Under that sheet lies the answers...lies the person who is Destined to win Survive and Conquer....the man who has been CHOSEN! Take a peek."

Damn, just when I was thinking that this couldn't get any weirder...she went in upped it a notch. I'm completely lost...and now I've got all these crazy thoughts in my head. No...not thoughts, Memories? Guess there's only one thing left to do.

He reaches up slowly and grabs a hold of the sheet. He hesitates for a second, and then with one smooth tug, he rips off the sheet. He looks for the person who was destined to win the event, but all he sees is a mirror.....and his reflection standing back at him.

Jack Carbon: "What? I don't get it. "

Destiny: "You don't? Look again!"

He turns back toward the mirror and this time he doesn't see his own reflection. Instead he sees that of THE REAL SHOW TERRY MARVIN dressed in his wrestling gear. Jack seems startled and hops back, but the reflection does the same.

Jack Carbon: "What is this? What's going on. "

Destiny: "It's amazing how the mind will trick you into accepting mediocrity if you stray from greatness so long. You were once THE greatest Wrestler alive. But life gets in the way, and you lost your path. You accepted getting shuffled into the pack until you completely lost your identity. You're not Jack Carbon...You're Dreaming. YOU are the Chosen one... GOD's GIFT TO WRESTLING! YOU are the one destined to win the Survive and Conquer tournament, and SAVE the APW from the monotony that it has accepted. It too has gotten lost in a shuffle of mediocrity. And you are DESTINED to bring it out."

Jack looks confused and shocked. But then he turns back to the mirror, and he takes his hat off, revealing for the first time that he is THE REAL SHOW Terry Marvin. As he stares at himself in the mirror, a smile creeps on his face.

Destiny: "Time to wake up and Face your destiny!!!"

Terry Marvin: "IT's SHOWTIME."

---

The Scene switches, and we are alone in the dark warehouse. One spotlight shines down illuminating "The Real Show" Terry Marvin standing in the middle of the light. HE stands there, arms crossed and smiles.

Terry Marvin: "Did you enjoy my little production there? See, everything that comes out of me is pure, 100% brilliance, so I figured I'd share my prophetic dream with all of you. See, there is a metaphor to my little story here, and it is this: You never really know who you are deep down until you're faced with something that makes you have to search for who you really are. Well, that thing, for me, is the Survive and Conquer match. This is where I break out and prove to the world that I am not a has been, that I am not a joke, that I am here and I am for real... This is where the world finds out that the REAL SHOW is fucking BACK.

You see, I've been back in the wrestling business for about a year now, and I'm yet to make the same splash that I once did. I've been floating on being pretty good and have somehow been kept below the GREATNESS that I enjoyed oh so many years ago. But I'm sick and tired of being overlooked for everything and it's time that I made some noise and let the wrestling world....more specifically APW....that I'm the real fucking deal and that I’m not just going to roll over and ride my electric wheel chair into the sunset. I'm going to fight. I'm going to make damn sure that I leave my mark on this business before they hang up my boots for good. "

Terry smiles and looks from sides to side before concentrating back on the camera.

Terry Marvin: "I hear everything that's going on in the APW right. I know it's the Free Agency vs. the APW. And, being that I just joined APW a few weeks ago, EVERYBODY has been begging to know. Where do I stand? Who's side am I going to be on? That’s easy. I'm on the same side I'm always on....the winning side. I don't give a damn Who gets the better of who, when the dust clears, The Real Show will STILL be standing, and there's not a DAMN thing anybody in APW...any Free Agent....any pathetic soul in the wrestling world can do about it.

But I've got to say Level One... I can appreciate what you've done so far. You've got people talking, you've got the champion on her guard. Congratulations for that. However, that's not all that matters here. This match, as much as those in charge of APW would love to paint it, is not about Level One vs. Sally Talfourd. It's about FORTY of today’s greatest competitors....okay, maybe greatest was a strong word. It's about 40 competitors that President Jeff could possibly scrape together, battling it out for a HALF MILLION DOLLARS! Wow, that is a pretty chunk of change. To most of you in this match, that is life saving money. To me? It's toilet paper!!!

I don't give a damn about the money, I don't give a damn about getting richer. The only think I care about...the only reason I'm in this match is for the Prestige...to prove to All those imbeciles coming in here to represent their feds like they actually CARE about getting their feds recognized instead of getting their own rocks off, that there is only ONE superior Athlete in professional wrestling. And he is a man all should fear and praise. For he is what is going to pick this sport up out of the rut that it's been in, throw it on its shoulders and carry it back up to the top, where it belongs. That athlete is none other than THE GREATEST THING TO HAPPEN TO WRESTLING EVER!!!! Terry Marvin!"

He goes to walk away, but stops, turns and smiles.

Terry Marvin: "Since, for some reason, everybody and their brother is picking Sally Talfourd to win this match, I can't in good conscious walk away from here without saying at least something about APW's world champion. So Sally, it seems that everyone is ready to hold the coronation and crown you queen of the world. Just one second little lady.... I don't honestly see what all the fuss is for. So what? You walked through the APW and sit at the top...This place is filled with second rate bottom feeders with less talent in their entire collective bodies than I have in my little finger. Does it feel good to call yourself the Champion, to call yourself the best of the joke that IS APW's roster?

It's time you were put on notice, you stuck up queen of nothing, arrogant BITCH! You’re not the end all be all of wrestling. You're just a little baby making machine who doesn't know her place in this world who got lucky once or twice. Don’t' get me wrong... That's not me being a male sexist pig...I don't mind women sharing the ring with me... Just the overrated backseat Barbie that is Sally Talfourd. I don't care that you're the champ... I don't care that these peons seem to warship at your feet. All I care about is the truth. The truth, which I'm sure is something that is a foreign concept to a fraud such as yourself who makes their lives on lies and self deception, is that I am FAR superior to you in EVERY way Sally. When I’m the last man standing this Sunday, EVERYBODY will know that truth.

You're warned APW...EVERYBODY is warned. The Showtime Era has arrived. THIRTY NINE losers will be forced to look up at the man SENT DOWN from God to save this world from ALL OF YOU! Survive in Conquer? I plan to....IT'S SHOWTIME!!!!"

Scene fades to black.


(OOC: MS Word said my word count was 3,911. I know I came close, but I hope it doesn't appear over.)

[brandenharvey]

[The scene opens with a quote flashing across the screen. The screen alternates between quotes and "Supersonic" Branden Harvey speaking with a black background. All quotes are from Albert Einstein.]

"Any intelligent fool can make things bigger, more complex, and more violent. It takes a touch of genius -- and a lot of courage -- to move in the opposite direction."

Harvey: This Sunday, I am in a match where thirty-nine other competitors are going to compete in Survive and Conquer. The match is very tough and, towards the end, brutal. The other competitors are going to attempt to be ore brutal and use severe violence to accomplish their means: winning Survive and Conquer.

I, however, am an intelligent man. I understand that, to win this match, I need to go the opposite direction. This match is about survival. I plan to use my superior intellect to putlast, survive, and conquer all my opponents. Friends, Foes, it doesn't matter. I will survive.

What does this mean? What am I going to do? How do I win a wrestling match without violence? You see, I didn't say I wouldn't get violent when the occasion calls for it. I'm simply going to outsmart, outlast, and survive. It doesn't matter who you are. CJ Gates, Level One, Sally Talfourd, or Thomas the Train, I'm going to outlast you all.

"Imagination is more important than knowledge."

Harvey: Not only am I smarter than all of you, but I have more imagination. I can imagine creative ways to eliminate people off the bat, when they think they're in a safe place. You're standing in the middle of the ring? I'll monkey flip you over the top. You're teaming up with free agents? I'll use each of you against each other. It doesn't matter what you do. I have thought of every eventuality. I can imagine ways to stay in the ring, stay in the match. Royal Rumble, Cage Match, Street Fight, Hell in a Cell, it doesn't matter. I have everything covered.

"Gravitation is not responsible for people falling in love."

Harvey: I'd like to take this opportunity to talk about Sally Talfourd and BDC. The two of them want to form a partnership? I have a partner in the match as well. His name is CJ Gates. Gates and I will team up for as long as we can. He'll have a nice rest after retaining the Tag Titles. Who are our first targets in the match? It's not the Free Agency. They've pissed everyone off and will probably be eliminated quickly. No, Sally. Our first targets are BDC and yourself. Because you have a chance at being in the final two, we have decided to take you out. You two had better plan to take us out early. Because wer have a plan.

"I want to know God's thoughts; the rest are details."

Harvey: And I do. The "God" of APW is Level One. He has made his plans clear: piss everyone in APW and IWC off and somehow use that to win the match. You're a real smart guy, Level One. I understand forming an alliance. But you went and had to use that alliance to make yourselves tagets weeks before the match even starts. Level One, I don't have to go gunning for you. Everyone else already is. But don't be surprised if I get a few shots in after what you did to me at the IWC Asylum.

"The hardest thing in the world to understand is the income tax."

Harvey: The prize of this match is $500,000. $300,000 after taxes. Is that what I'm in the match for? I'd be lying if I said it wouldn't be nice. That's a lot of money. It'd help me out immensely. It's not, however, the only reason I'm in the match. When I came into APW, I did nothing but lose. Not long after my first win, I won the APW Xtreme Championship. Most of you said I didn't deserve the title. I'm in this match to prove all the critics, all the naysayers, and all the hypocrites wrong. I'm going to prove, once and for all, that I belong in APW.

"Reality is merely an illusion, albeit a very persistent one."

Harvey: I look at the reality most of you see. You see Sally Talfourd or Level One winning this match. I don't blame you. Their track record is great. Either of them rarely lose. But your reality is an illusion. It won't be Sally, with help from BDC. It won't be Level One, with help from the Free Agency. As I said earlier, I have plans for both of them. It'll be me in the finals of the match, probably against CJ Gates. And it'll be me to climb the ladder of success, grab the bag of money, and win Survive and Conquer.

"A person starts to live when he can live outside himself."

Harvey: Most of the people in this match are self absorbed. They think they're "God's gift to wrestling." I'm here to say that, to win, you have to look outside yourself and look at your opponents. I've been studying matches from each and every one of my opponents. It doesn't matter where they're from, I have a tape. It's nice to have a friend that can find anything on the internet, doesn't it? There is a reason I'm prepared for anything. And that's why? I have seen everybody's moves. Hell, I've even been in the ring with a few of them. Never count me out. I almost got a divorce preparing for this match. The wife didn't like that I was neglecting my bedroom duties to study tapes. But I'm prepared. And if I'm willing to neglect my wife for this match, imagine what I'm willing to do to you.

"The only real valuable thing is intuition."

Harvey: It all comes down to this. It comes down to me being able to predict what each and every one of you is going to do. It comes down to me being able to counter your moves. It comes down to me being able to counter your counters for my counters. I sound like James Logan. But Wolverine isn't going to win this match. I am. Plain and simple.

[The scene fades.]

[ultramarcus]

I guess you could say it all started when I got Cancer.

Back in 1963 my name was Marcus Dodd. I was 22, and I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life. I didn’t really take things seriously back then. I always thought I would have time, you know? You always think there’s going to be all this time, to do whatever you want. Like there’s just this infinite supply of time sitting around somewhere just waiting to be spent.

It doesn’t work like that. Once it’s your time, it’s your time, that's just the way it works.

That's what I thought before I became an immortal.

My mom had always been a smoker. Not me though, it was just something that had never interested me. A personal choice, you know? She would smoke every day though. Remember, this was 1963, we didn’t know any better. We didn’t have giant cancer warnings, or restrictions. All we had was Alan Landers trying to convince kids to light up.

They told me I had lung cancer, a result of second-hand smoke. My mom...that doesn’t really matter. Frankly I don’t even want to talk about it. Back then lung cancer was pretty much a death sentence. You can imagine what she must have been going through. What happened came a couple months after I was diagnosed. I was laying in my hospital bed. The room was this ugly shade of gray, and the sheets, this tacky snowflake design. It all felt so...temporary. That’s what life is I guess. It didn’t feel like it was mine, it felt like any minute I was going to go home, back to my own sheets. My own walls.

That was when a stranger came to visit me.

Man: Hello. You must be Marcus?

Marcus: Yes.

I wasn’t supposed to get up. I think it might have winded me just to do that much. I did extend my hand, he met it, and we shook. That was the first time I met Agimoto, the man who made me an immortal. The man who, thirty years later, I would turn my sword against and strike down.

Agimoto: May I ask, how are you coping with the cancer?

Marcus:I’m...wait, sorry, who are you?

Agimoto: I’m...an interested party.

Marcus: What do you mean?

From the pocket of his coat, the stranger pulled out a bright red apple.

Agimoto: Basically I’m here to offer you what you want most in life. A second chance. I have here an apple. This apple is the fruit of what we call “The Tree of Light”

Marcus: The Tree of Light?

Agimoto: It’s gone by different names every now and again. The holy grail, The fountain of youth. What I bring you now is the answer to your sickness. One bite from this apple, and all traces of cancer will be eliminated from your body. All traces of ANY illness, completely eradicated. You’ll never get sick again, never have to worry about getting old, never have to worry about bruises or scrapes that just don’t seem to heal.

Marcus: You’re saying I won’t be able to die?

Agimoto: Not naturally. There are...limitations.

Marcus: Limitations?

Agimoto: You’ll still be able to die from things like decapitation, or blood-loss.

Marcus: So if I’m mortally wounded...

Agimoto: There would be no coming back. Really it’s no different from your current state.

Marcus: Sick?

Agimoto: Mortal.

We stood there for a moment in silence. It couldn’t have been true. I didn’t believe it. Looking back at it now, I knew that I didn’t believe a word the stranger had said.

But I put my hand out anyway. Let’s say he was lying. What's the worst that could be in that apple? Poison? A razor blade? I was going to die. Soon. I was going to die, with my body trying to strangle itself, needing tubes and cathedras to keep me alive. So yeah, I took the apple. I took the apple, and bit down hard.

Agimoto: I’ll see you shortly.

After he left I settled in, watching the grays of the room grow darker and darker as night set in. By next afternoon I had actually forgotten about my visitor. Three days later my most recent set of tests came back, and they said that it looked like the cancer was in remission. Five days later I was given a clean bill of health. To say the doctors were baffled was an understatement. I could sympathize, but I didn’t let on about my strange visitor.

I was free. I wanted to live. I was a new man. I felt different, changed somehow. I felt...invincible. Confident in every step, my lungs, as they breathed in a delightful breathe of clean crisp air.

I made it as far as the park adjacent to the hospital before I saw him standing there, waiting for me.

Agimoto: Feeling better?

Marcus: It was true! I...I can’t believe it was true!

Agimoto: Most people can’t. Marcus, I’d like to show you something.

Marcus: What is it?

Agimoto: I’d like you to see the Tree of Light, and the Order.

I agreed to go with him. He had saved my life...and given me an amazing gift. I thought that I owed him that much at least. It was nearly an hour before we arrived at a church. We entered to find the building empty. He walked in confident strides toward the back of the church, and in a small closet behind the alter we found a staircase.

Down, down down, we decended seemingly forever, seemingly to the depths of the earth. The staircase was lit by a blazing torchlight. Some had burned out along the way, and for those moments we walked in darkness. The light at the end got brighter and brighter, until finally we emerged.

And standing before me was a tree the size of a skyscraper. Massive branches, like tangled arms wove over one another, across all sides. The bark, a bright vivid brown, the leaves a glittering, radiant, green.

In the time I have been immortal, some 50 years now, I have seen many things. I have seen the wonders of a rainstorm in the middle of the day, from the tallest tree in a Brazilian rainforest. I have seen men come together in times of great struggle, and need. I have seen lightning dance across a pitch black sky.

The tree in all its glory was, and remains to this day, the most wondrous sight my eyes have ever gazed upon. It seemed to give off an energy, a radiant force brighter than any I have ever known. I gazed upon it, and I knew I was home.

I became one of the greatest warriors ever to become a member of The Order. The Order was a clandestine society of immortals, dedicated to improving the world. Only that's not the way it really worked out. It took me decades, but I found out that the Order was as corrupt as any society. So I did something about it. 30 years after I took my first bite of that apple, I realized that I had been given a power that nobody should wield. I drew my sword and killed them all. Each and every last one of them fell to my blade. And then Agimoto himself stood in my way. I slayed him(*Although LPWers know that Agimoto wasn’t really dead at all.), and burned down the tree of light. It was the most beautiful sight I had ever seen, and I destroyed it. I am man, destroyer of worlds.

* * *


As you can imagine, being an immortal, I’ve done a lot of things in life. There's a school of thought that says all the reckless and crazy stunts I pull are really just an excuse to get myself killed. I’m open to it, but to be honest I’m pretty doubtful. I don’t want to die, I just want to be the best. I beat cancer, the Big C! You don’t just walk away from something like that with a pessimistic attitude about life. Once I was done with the Order, I realized that I could do anything I wanted in life. I didn’t have to be Marcus Dodd anymore. I could be whoever I wanted.

I got into wrestling to inspire people. I always loved seeing the look in someones eye when they’re watching you, and they’re amazed by exactly what you’re capable of. To me, that’s everything. I’ve got money. The money doesn’t really matter to me. It’s secondary.

What matters to me, is looking at someone, and knowing that you’ve inspired them. You’ve shown them that they can do anything. I’m a cancer survivor. I don’t see myself any other way. I don’t always do the best things, or make the best choices. I’ve been around long enough to know that morality can change on a whim. Behaviours change, patterns change...

What doesn’t change is people.

People don’t change, but their behaviour does. For now I’m wrestling, what I’m really interested in seeing is society. We’ve got so much potential. I just think it’s time we started living up to it.

[thefranchise]

The scene opens inside of an interview area as “The Franchise” James Varga is standing in front of the camera wearing a “Wrestling is Scripted” T-shirt as well as jeans. There’s no one around to feed him lines. Instead it’s just him and a microphone. He’s clearly going old school in this promo as he begins to address the camera and the audience at home.

Varga: Before I say anything further, I wanted to start off by explaining that the reason I am wearing sunglasses is because of all the colors. They’re hurting my eyes.

He clears his throat before continuing.

Varga: Alright, now to the subject at hand. There are wrestlers from organizations all over the world competing in the Survive and Conquer match but honestly that doesn’t bother me at all. I bet everyone thinks that everyone else should be cowering with fear of them just because they are some top star somewhere in the wrestling world. Well I’m not going to come on here in front of the television cameras and run down my accomplishments because that would be dumb. Only an idiot would do that and that’s the truth. If you did decide to do that then you are an idiot.

He starts mockingly clapping.

Varga: Congratulations. If any of you did that then you successful put a target on your back. Nice going. That’s epic fail on a MASSIVE level. So here’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to come on here and do something that isn’t expected. I’m going to just come out and say it. A lot of people have been coming up to me asking me why I’m not motivated coming into this match. They would ask me “Why do you not seem like you’re motivated, James? Where did the motivation go?”

He stops to ponder to himself for a moment before continuing.

Varga: That’s when I realized that I don’t know, I don’t know why I’m not motivated. That’s when it came to me. I usually get myself motivated by finding certain individuals that I hate and using that as motivation to win matches and get rid of them. However, in this match, I’m so unfamiliar with all of you that there’s not one individual that I hate in this entire thing. So then I had a heart to heart with myself and decided that if I couldn’t find one person to target then I would come on here and tell you all the truth…

He smiles deviously briefly before continuing.

Varga: Let’s face it. The fact is that I hate you all. Why? It’s simple, actually. Never have I heard so much inane, pointless rambling from a bunch of people in all my life. All I’ve seen is a bunch of incoherent babble which about pointless crap that doesn’t go anywhere. Nobody cares about your personal lives or your feds. All they care about is the Survive and Conquer match. That’s what you should be worrying about. However I don’t know a lot of you. I did look over the competitors list and saw a few names that I knew. I’ve heard of Cobra, Level One, Jason Scene, JT Cash, Ace Andrews, Lilly Rose, and Ryan Ruckus.

At this point he can only shake his head in disgust about the very thought of all the names he just mentioned.

Varga: What a disgrace it is that the pathetic list of competitors in this match is highlighted by those jobbers. Now here’s what’s going to happen. I am going to do whatever I can to make you all miserable in this match. Some people will only be in this match for a few seconds and I will do everything in my power to make sure all of get as little ring time as possible. The only reason I’m doing this is because I hate you all so much. So please remember that you will lose and I am going to be the cause of it. When you see the nightmare that your lives have become you can have me to thank for that. So go on, continue to train for a match you are destined to lose. I’m James Varga and your asses belong to me.

He looks at the camera angrily before giving a disgusted wave to it.

Varga: Au revoir!

He then storms off as the scene fades to black.

[Ryan Ruckus]

>

“You’re supposed to start these things with some attention-grabbing dialogue.”

“Submitted for the approval of the Donkeypunch Abortion League!”

“…We’ll work on it.”

== NEW YEAR’S RETRIBUTION 2010 ==

A huge steel cage surrounds an APW ring. And atop it, Ryan Ruckus, Victor Hades, and a ladder…

Inch by inch, Ruckus climbs. His hand extends toward the briefcase strung above….

But Hades is climbing too, and gaining ground. So R2 goes for a crucifix driver…

And that stupid True Blood villain counters, nailing a Closed Casket piledriver!

So, with Ruckus unconscious, Hades claims the prize…

Harvey: This has to be the biggest win in Victor Hades career!

Chase: Ryan Ruckus was so close…

== 42 DAYS AGO ==

From the flashy lights of MSG, to the smog-hazed streets of Hollywood. The city is abuzz with the day-to-day hustle.

Down a particularly shitty street, a single sheet of newsprint tumbles… flits… skitters… and SMACKs to a stop, on the face of a street bum.

Headline:

WHAT EVER HAPPENED TO RYAN RUCKUS ?

[/b][/u][/center]
A dirty hand reaches up, pulling the paper free. A pair of blue eyes scan. A crooked mouth drops open… hocks a loogie… and spits... And the crumpled paper sails across the sky-

-Right into the head of a passing woman.

Woman: Ow! …Fucker!

Bum: Hey, lady, gotta dollar?

Woman: Ugh. Get a job.

She struts off, disgusted. The bum just smirks and waves.

Bum: See you next Tuesday!

Across the street, a fanboy stands, staring. He wears emo glasses, khaki shorts, and a Branden Harvey T-shirt. An unchewed Cheeto dangles from his mouth.

Bum: You gonna stare all day, or can I have some of those Cheetos?

Slowly, as if hypnotized, the fanboy crosses toward the bum, putting one cheese-fingered hand over his beard.

Fanboy: Holy, crap! You’re Ryan Ruckus!

The street bum swats his hand away and licks the cheese dust from his beard.

Bum: Never heard of him. Gimme something, or ruck off.

Fanboy: You ARE him! I’m Mark. Mark Smart! –offering his hand- You were like, my FAVORITE wrestler!

Ruckus: –not shaking- Your shirt says otherwise.

Mark: What, this??? I got it off the clearance rack. I’ll throw it out right now. I don’t give a f-

Ruckus: -Woah! …Only one F-bomb per PG-13.

They both look at the camera. Then-

Mark: You need to come with me! I thought you were dead, but now that you’re not, I’ll be DAMNED if you’re going out like Joe Pesci in “With Honors.”

Ruckus: Nice reference. …Get bent.

Ruckus rolls onto his side and pulls a tarp over his shoulders.

Mark pulls an aluminum can from his backpack.

Mark: –coaxing- I have Ruckstar energy drinks…

Ruckus: Ooh, gimme!!!

And off they go.

== HARD STEEL 2010 ==

Oracle Arena is packed for the PPV Main Event. Ryan Ruckus and M.D.K. (aka The One Ring Circus) are defending their titles against Viktor Kovalenko and Sebastian Cross…

Ruckus goes for the 'Directors Cut'…

But Cross blocks! And hits the 'Re-Liberation' from nowhere!...

The ref slides into position… Kovalenko holds MDK outside the ring…

1…
2…
THREE!!!

Snoop: He didn’t kick out in time!

Scoop: New tag team champions!!!

Ruckus gets to his feet, challenging the count. MDK is on him in no time, screaming obscenities and poking his chest…. So Ruckus talks some smack of his own… Until finally, Rick Rampage steps in… And CLOTHESLINES RUCKUS TO THE MAT!

Snoop: MUTINY!!!!

Rampage and MDK attack like wolves... ORC manager, Ornery Hillman, runs from the back, and slides into the ring…

For a moment, the beating stops…THEN, HILLMAN JOINS IN TOO!

Ruckus sees a boot descending toward his face…

Then everything goes black.

== 42 DAYS AGO ==

Ruckus and Mark arrive at a cross walk. Ruckus bends to snatch a half-smoked cigarette off the ground, and pops it into his mouth.

Mark: Ruck, I’ll BUY you some smokes. Don’t pick ‘em off the ground; that’s disgusting.

Ruckus: What are you, my fairy nerdmother?

Mark enters a nearby corner store. The man behind the counter eyes him carefully.

Mark: Pack of…?

Ruckus: Luckies. No filters. ...And you call yourself a fanboy…

Clerk: I.D.

Mark: I’m 25.

Clerk: Congratulations! …I.D.

Mark sighs and shoves a hand into his pocket. It returns with a wad of $50s, and a California state I.D.

R2: Woah! Where’d a basement-dwelling virgin get a bankroll like that?

Mark: Dude, my wrestling blog makes, like, 10k a month. …Fanboy that!

But Ruckus is already distracted. His attention on the TV above the register, for TMZ update.

Reporter: Has the fantastic Ms. Fox found a new reason to trot?

The picture shifts to footage of a sizzling redhead, holding hands with some emo-haired douche.

Reporter: Our sources spotted Foxy Fox, star of the upcoming, Atlantis, sneaking out the back of Sky Bar with her hunky new costar. It’s the first time we’ve seen Foxy out since the death of her pro-wrestling ex husband, Ryan Ruckus. And it seems pretty obvious to us, she’s finished mourning.

Ruckus: I’m not rucking dead…

Grabbing the Luckies off the counter, he rips the whole top off the pack and lights one.

Clerk: Hey, bum! No smoking in the store!

Mark, still stuffing 50s in his pocket, seems oblivious to what just happened.

Mark: You know, I don’t get it… You were Ryan freaking Ruckus. Two time SCW GrandSlam champion… TFWF tag team champion… Siberian Warden and Voyle champion… Winner of the 3rd EFK tournament… Mastermind of On Hallowed Ground… Hollywood director… Best-selling author… Owner of the Hard Ruck Café and Casino… Co-Founder of Something Wicked, Anti-Heroes Anonymous, and the One Ring Circus… The Real Thing… The Patron Saint of Sin… The One Man rucking Hall of Fame!!!

Ruckus: You finished?

Mark: What happened to you, man?

Ruckus lifts his head, as if to give an answer. But instead, he simply puffs his smoke and shambles from the store-

-As the T.V. cuts to a rock-infused commercial-

“Sunday, January 30th… LIVE, from Las Vegas, Nevada… APW brings you the single most action-packed night in ALL of professional wrestling… Ladders… Cages… Blood, sweat, and battle royals… Forty men and women, locked in a war for glory… for opportunity… and for half a MILLION dollars!… Some will falter… Some will fall…
But one will SURVIVE AND CONQUER!”

== MIGNON LAW OFFICES – 2010 ==

“Boy, you really humped the poodle this time.”

Nick Mignon, attorney to the rich and powerful, leans forward. His stupid ponytail sways.

Across from him, his favorite client smirks.

Ruckus: If I had a buck for every time I heard THAT, I’d double my worth.

Nick: Two times nothing's nothing, Ruck.

Ruckus: That’s cute, man. Are the jokes pro bono, or do I have to pay extra?

-Only Nick isn’t smiling…

Nick: I don’t know what else to say. Hillman’s getting everything. The merchandise, the movie deals, the memoir rights, the stock in SCW…

Ruckus: There’s gotta be a loophole or something.

Nick: Ryan… he’s even taking REF.

And now, reality sets in.

Ruckus: But… I worked my whole life for a fully-reasoning, speech-enabled cream-and-chrome Rolls Royce. ...He sounds like Mr. Feeny from “Boy Meets World…”[/color]

Nick: –shuffling papers- I could file some appeals, throw a bunch of red tape at it… But we both know that contract was iron-clad. …For the life of me, I still can’t fathom why the hell you signed it.

Ruckus: Ruck you, Nick. I did what I had to. That fat sack of crap had me under his thumb, and it was the only way to be rid of him and his circus of bumbling suck nuggets! –beat- I made the right play, and you know it.

Nick simply looks sympathetic.

Nick: Well, congratulations, friend. You’re free.

…And ruined.[/i]

== 42 DAYS AGO ==

A thin shaft of light shines; like a door being opened to a dimly-lit basement. Which is convenient, since that’s what is happening.

Down the steps tread Mark and Ruckus. Reaching the bottom, they’re greeted by two other twenty-somethings, with laptops.

The first, is a girl. Cute too, if she’d just wipe the goth black off her face and run a couple laps.

The second guy is hopeless, though. If Mark was an example of a basement-dwelling fanboy, this kid is the freaking paradigm.

Mark: Allow me to introduce Kay Fabien, and R.P. Freely. They’re my team. …Guys, meet-

Ruckus: -Call me Bummer.

Kay: …Weird name.

Ruckus: Right back atcha.

RP: Dude! Did you SEE the Survive and Conquer commercial?!? It’s gonna be off the chain! I mean, Mike Park… Victor Hades… Level One…

Kay: BDC… Pence Weatherlight… Sally Talfourd…

RP: She can hurricanrana me anytime!

Kay: Gross.

Mark: I heard Keaton Saint is returning for it too.

Kay: Returning, nothing! I bet he wins the thing.

RP: Fail. …Level One, all the way.

Kay: Keaton Saint has beaten Level One.

RP: And David Arquette was a heavyweight champ. That’s WHY they call it a fluke.

Mark glances toward Ruckus with a sly smile.

Mark: Still… seems the perfect match to make a comeback. Think registration’s still open?

Kay: 40 spots for 500 grand? I doubt it.

Mark: Hmm…

Ruckus doesn’t like the sound of that.

Ruckus: Hmm, what?

Mark: –feigning ignorance- Hey guys, you know someone Keaton Saint has NEVER beat? Or Pence Weatherlight? Or Sally Talfourd?

RP: Who?

Mark: Ryan Ruckus.

Kay: That’s true. Level One never beat him either.

RP: Man, too bad he died…

Ruckus: That’s. Rucking. It! Call President Jeff and his Action Packers. I don’t care WHAT it takes… You get me in that match!

-And fuming, Ruckus stomps upstairs.

RP: Dude, that bum’s a wrestler???

== * * * * * ==

A bathroom light clicks on…

A pair of clippers plugs into a socket…

Buzzing accompanies tufts of brown hair in a sink…

Shaving cream foams on a laughline-creased cheek…

A straight razor glints off its well-sharpened edge…

The end of a cigarette crackles with flame…

And Ryan Ruckus emerges, looking like we’ve always known him.

Well, almost…

Mark: One thing missing...

A black leather hardcase, hinged at one end….

And inside it, a brand-new pair of custom two-tone shades…


== J.T. Cash, eat your heart out. ==



Ruckus slides the glasses on and smirks-

Ruckus: Let’s Ruck and Roll.

Mark: …Really?

Ruckus: Gimme a break! I’m still getting warmed up.

== 14 DAYS AGO – PRE OVERDRIVE ==

The backstage area in Glendale, Arizona is littered with stage hands and crew, all preparing for the evening’s Overdrive.

Outside an office marked President Jeff, Ruckus taps his foot, like the world’s worst case of RLS.

“Ryan Ruckus?!?”

Hannah Storm, APW backstage eye-candy, shuffles over.

Hannah: I thought you were-

Ruckus: Don’t say it.

Hannah: Are you joining APW?

Ruckus: Don’t get ahead of yourself, wiggles. If and when I sign something, you’ll be the last to know.

Hannah: Thanks! …Wait. What?

Ruckus points.

Ruckus: Is that Pence Weatherlight?!?

Hannah: Ooh, where? He’s dreamy!

And she wiggles off-

-As Mark exits Jeff’s office.

Ruckus: We square?

Mark smiles.

Mark: For the first time ever, Survive and Conquer will feature forty-ONE entrants! Registration was closed, but when I told Jeff who was asking, he said: ‘What would Survive and Conquer be without Ryan Ruckus?

Ruckus: He said that?

Mark: No. But that sounded better than the ‘yeah, whatever’ I got outta him.

Ruckus hops to his feet, grabbing Mark in a playful headlock.

Ruckus: From now on, you’re not Mark Smart. You are Smart Mark!

Mark: ...How did I not think of that?

Ruckus: So what’s the deal? Long-term contract? Private dressing room? Company car? Kaycee Young’s cellphone number?

Mark slowly, carefully, removes himself from the headlock.

Mark: Heh. Not exactly. You debut tonight, but-

Ruckus: But what?

Mark: Just enter when your music hits. The rest is a surprise.

Ruckus: Ooh, I love surprises…

SMASH cut to a re-framed shot, and Ryan’s hand around Mark’s throat.

Ruckus: I rucking HATE surprises!

Mark: Ack!

== 5 MINUTES EARLIER ==

As we know, the January 13th Overdrive kicked off with Level One making his way to the ring, declaring himself a free agent, and announcing his intent to build a team of non-contracted superstars.

We also know that James ‘Cypher’ Logan answered that call, and ‘Supersonic’ Branden Harvey ignored it. Which lead to-

Smart Mark: I know a man who can give this a boost. A man that is looking to regain his spotlight at the misfortune of the APW talent. A man named... RYAN RUCKUS!

Which, in turn, lead to-

Harvey: I can’t believe what we’ve witnessed. Two of the top three competitors in last year’s Survive and Conquer have aligned! Who’s going to stop them???

Which, of course, brings us back to-


Mark: I… Can’t… Breathe…

Ruckus drops Mark, who immediately starts rubbing his neck.

Ruckus: Why didn’t you tell me you were hitching me to Level One?

Mark: Cause you wouldn’t have done it, unless it played out for the crowd.

R2: With good REASON!!! For three years, I’ve been hearing 'True Expert' this and '3-time champion' that. And throughout all this hype on how he’s the best thing since the Sliced Bread #2, people seem to neglect one very important fact. I’ve PROVEN I’m better.

Mark: All the more reason to watch each others’ backs until the final two, right? …Ack!

There’s that hand around his throat again.

Ruckus: What did you sign me up for?

Mark: …said he was a free agent… forming a collective… You and him in charge… split down the middle?

Ruckus: Really? Cause just 5 minutes ago, you said-

Mark: It’ll be like Batman is to Robin... without the nerdy capes!

Ruckus: So which is it, Mark? Are we Tomax and Xamot, or Pinky and the Brain?

Mark: Would you take… ‘Tom and Jerry?’ Maybe –ack- Bugs Bunny and Daffy Duck? -cough- The… enemy of your 39 other enemies… is your friend.

Ruckus drops Mark again, and starts pacing-

Ruckus: I’m gone for a year, and the MINUTE I come back, I’m playing second-fiddle to Lester Only?!?

He hauls off and CLOCKS a trashcan.

Ruckus: Ruck!!!

But Mark stands defiant-

Mark: Well, what did you expect? You asked me to help you… pick you up from under the weight of yourself and bring you back! –beat- Are you Kenny Kasual? Are you Evan Caravelle? Are you a name on a paper, without a face in anyone’s brain? No! Are you a one trick gimmick, like Victor Hades? Like the Gambler or Terry Marvin? No! Are you doomed to midcard mediocrity? Cid Flaming Phoenix? Ebon? CJ Gates? No, you’re damn-well NOT!

You are Ryan Ruckus! You don’t jerk curtains. You don’t job for laughs. You take this business, twist it with your evil genius brain, and make it shine! You were MADE for the spotlight! You DESERVE to start and end the show! So pardon the SHIT outta me for dropping you right in eye of this S&C storm. But that’s exactly where you BELONG! And if that means teaming with Level One until you and he are the last two left… SO BE IT!!!

Mark wheezes, catching his breath.

Ruckus cocks his head and smirks.

Ruckus: You know what, Mark? …You’re ABSOLUTELY right!

== * * * * * ==

Level One and R2 pick on Sally backstage. It ends with her getting punked out…


Brandon Young gets dropped on his head. Keaton Saint’s interference is futile…


A Rolls Royce Phantom rams a gate. And Dangertainment joins the fold…


The entire roster of IWC is destroyed. So is GM Reginald's Schmidty car…


The Blackwell Academy sign is painted over, becoming a banner for the Free Agency…


Kaycee Young is mind-rucked on live T.V. The Free Agents stand around and laugh…


SalTal forms an unsuccessful resistance. Keaton Saint WHACKs Ruckus with a chair…


And Level One stands triumphant, at the end of Overdrive…

Mark: I was TOTALLY wrong!

== 7 DAYS AGO – POST OVERDRIVE ==

Ruckus stands in a locker room, packing his gear, as Mark enters.

Ruckus: About what, exactly, were you absolutely wrong?

Mark: Level One… The Free Agency… EVERYTHING!

Mark digs his fingers into his moppy hair.

Mark: At first, I thought: 3-time world champion and former S&C winner… what’s not to like? Add that to the sheer numbers and exposure, and it seemed a sure thing. But now, it’s all gone to shit. You’re consistently shuffled further from the spotlight with each new member that joins, You’re not getting the mic time I expected, Keaton Saint seems to PWN you, any time you're within 20 yards of each other, and everybody here thinks you’re Level One’s lap dog!

I’m sorry, man. I should’ve listened. But I’m going, RIGHT NOW, to get you out of this cluster-ruck stable.

He bee-lines for the door-

Ruckus: Woah, Kemosabe!

Mark: –exasperated- But…

Ruckus: Mark… baby… boobalah…

Sauntering over, Ruckus drapes an arm around Mark’s shoulder-

Ruckus: Walk with me…

And out they go, into the hallway and down the corridor, passing Event Staff and janitors.

Ruckus: First of all, let ME worry about Keaton Saint. Sure, he got a couple choice licks in. And good, too. Cause it’ll give him false hope. It’s like losing for the first hour you’re at the table, so you can come back and win big when it counts. The simple truth remains, I could beat Keaton Saint on a BAD day. I know it. You know it. The entire wrestling community knows it. The only one who DOESN’T seem to know it, is Keaton Saint.

They continue walking. Past the closing snackbars and souvenir booths.

Ruckus: Second, if my worst crime was letting Level One run the show, I wouldn’t be the thorn that I am, in the side of this industry. A lot of stupid people run their stupid, little mouths. And every time they do, they prove they’re utterly rucking clueless.

Further now... Past the smoking sections and restrooms…

Ruckus: Despite the pain it must be in Sally Talfourd’s ass, I’m the single most mentioned talent in Survive and Conquer. Hell, I should receive top billing for JT Cash’s promo alone. But despite that little tidbit, I am not the most HATED competitor. That distinction belongs to our friend, Lester.

Finally, they reach the end of the hall, where Ruckus opens a door marked EXIT and leads Mark into an alley.

Ruckus: Which brings me to why I’m okay with Level One being ‘boss’. See, I get all the benefit of being in the Agency, but all the other wrestlers’ animosity is centered on HIM. Leaving me free and clear.

Mark: Except that he enters 36th, and you enter 11th. ...Plenty of time to focus aggression on you.

Ruckus: Ooh, touche. But I counter with this nugget. Last year, I entered 10th, and I finished 2nd. By that rational, I ought to WIN this year.

Mark: That’s faulty logic, Ruck.

Ruckus: Fine, then I’ll think of something else. But you’re missing the most important point of this talk, Mark.

Mark: Which is?

Ruckus: It’s no longer your problem.

Ruckus stops by the edge off a large metal dumpster, and lifts the lid.

Ruckus: Get in.

Mark: What?

Ruckus sighs now, as if the whole thing is becoming a chore. Then he scoops Mark up, drops him into the dumpster, and starts back inside.

Mark: –yelling after him- I pulled you off the street! I got you back into the business!!!

Ruckus: Yes you did, and good on you. But now, our relationship is ending.

Mark: But… WHY?!?

And Ruckus smirks his trademark smirk.

Ruckus: Because I’m back, baby!

== NOW ==



To those who don’t know me:

Kill yourselves now. ...Seriously.

To those who do know me, yet kept their mouths shut:

A truly smart move. Best of luck in the match. You will need it.

And now to the rest of you Ruck-Heads:

Those who thought they could draw some heat, by invoking my name… Those who lack any instinct for self-preservation… I think it's only fair to remind you of something…

I was MADE for this match.

Cause when they tried to steal my life from me, and left me on the street-

I SURVIVED.

And when they told me they’d already seen Survive and Conquer, I showed them the Director’s Cut, and-

I SURVIVED.

And when Kip Kutler called Jeff gay, all the while dangling his manpurse from his Wal-Mart robe-

I SURVIVED.

And when Jason Kash cut a literally shitty promo-

I SURVIVED.

And when Jay Wildman subjected us to a long and pointless chat with his Jersey Shore brothers-

I SURVIVED.

And when Ebon said he knows jiu-jitsu, I remembered I know Ruck-Fu, and-

I SURVIVED.

And when JT Cash spent his limited time cheerleading for me, I gave thanks to the God of free press, and-

I SURVIVED.

And when the Gambler… um, gambled, I placed a sizable bet on myself, and-

I SURVIVED.

And when Cid-X-Phoenix-X-Flame-X forgot how many times I’ve soundly whooped that ass in the past-

I FACE-PALMED.

And then-

I SURVIVED.

And when Lily Rose conceded, I thought, ‘Sweet, one down already!”

I SURVIVED.

And when Mike Park and his buddies robbed Las Vegas on T.V., I collected the reward for information on the case, and-

I SURVIVED.

And when I saw Stephen Callway’s wife in that nightie, I threw up in my mouth, but-

I SURVIVED.

And when Keaton Saint thought lateral raises prepared him for yours truly, I hoped he’d keep believing that, and-

I SURVIVED.

And when CJ Gates ran his suck hole about shit he claims to have heard about me, I wished I had a nickel, and-

I SURVIVED.

And when Christian G. Smitten treated me to his A&E Biography, I turned on the X-Box and re-watched “The Hudsucker Proxy,” and-

I SURVIVED.

And when Johnny Knuckles offered the top ten reasons he’d win, I made a top ten list of why he’d lose. I picked nine random guys in the match and label themed 2 through 10. Then I labeled myself reason one, and voila-

I SURVIVED.

And when Sally Talfourd called me a drop-in wrestler, despite me getting TWICE the coverage she got for this match, I remembered I’m not even IN this fed. Then I laughed, and-

I SURVIVED.

R-E-S-P-E-C-T
Give some to Sally
So she’ll like herself.

And when Terry Marvin showed up past my bedtime, I didn’t even bother. And still-

I SURVIVED.

And when Victor Hades bamphs out of the cave where he’s been hiding, I’ll remind him that he tried to end me last year. Except-

I SURVIVED.

And when the rest of you drowned in devout procrastination, I didn’t bat one worried eye, cause-

I’LL SURVIVE.

And when Level One decides the jig is up and jumps me from behind, I’ll simply do what I did last year. I’ll outlast him, and-

I WILL SURVIVE.

And no matter your number, or training, or plans-
No matter your fed, or your fame, or your fans-

Yes, I know that rhymed-

I WILL SURVIVE.

And when forty other bodies lie behind me and my climb….
When it’s only me, a steel ladder, and my destiny…
When the proof for everything I’ve said hangs, dangling on the precipice-

Well, that’s when I’ll do something else…

Because that’s when I will-

CONQUER.



== THE END ==

[Ianzky DéTornado]

------------------------------------------------------------------

“ APW and SWA Present: The Pacific DISS-aster Super Show ”

A Survive and Conquer Match RP
by: "Pacific Disaster" Ian DeTornado

------------------------------------------------------------------

APW House Show taping - Reno, Nevada.
January 25, 2011

The scene opens at the entrance to backstage, where we can see DeTornado arguing with a security personnel.


Security: Sir, only authorized personnel are allowed backstage.


DeTornado: So what it means… Mr. Security?

The camera pans to the sign:"No pets are allowed" ...
before focusing back to DeTornado and the security guy.


Security: it means that you're off limit in here, fool!


DeTornado: Thanks for the compliment asshole, but I think you should allow me to enter the locker room, or else…


Security: or else what?



DeTornado: or else you wont get my very precious…

.


.



.


AUTOGRAPH!!!




Security: who cares about your autograph?.



DeTornado scratches his head and flashes his trademark smirk.



DeTornado: okay Mr. Blowing Job loyal dumb security guard of the Great Action Packing Wrestling… can't you recognize me?



The security guard shakes his head smiles and answers with…

.

.

.

.

Security: NO? Why? who the Hell are you?



DeTornado: damn! I am Justin Bieber and you're Selena Gomez' asshole!
You ain't know me? Why? Are you not watching TVs or reading sports magazines? or you don't have Tv at all?

gesso… I am The current 9 months reigning "SWA Undisputed Champ of the whole wide freaking world"…



Security: and so? this is APW and not SWA, idiot!



DeTornado: What the Hell is wrong with your stupid brain? I am a participant of Command and Conquer 2011!!!



Security: you mean Survive and Conquer?



DeTornado: yeah~yeah man, that's right, I mean Survived and Conquers!!! sorry for the typographical error of mine!



Security: what?




DeTornado: so, would you let me enter now?




Security: No! And to tell you, the event is on Sunday, by that day I will allow you!


DeTornado scratches his head and took some deep breath.



DeTornado: But I was invited by Brother Jett the Uric-king to do a segment tonight regarding the "Survival and Conquerors PPV"!



Security: it's Hurricane Jeff, and let me repeat, Survive and Conquer!



DeTornado: yeah that's what I said, are you deaf?! Okay, so would step aside now and let me enter?



Security: no! you are not listed on the guest book! As I said, I'll let you in on the pay per view's time.



DeTornado: How about now?



The security get annoyed and said;


Security: No!



DeTornado: okay




Then DeTornado turns around and walk a little and comes back to the security after some seconds.




DeTornado: how about now?




Security: damn! I said No! No! No! En - Oh! ~ No!


The annoyed security guy calls his backup and drag Ian DeTornado out of the building.

------------------------------------------------------------------

The scene cuts to the APW arena with thousands of attendance watching the taping of APW's house show.


President Jeff's music hits the P.A. and the audience get crazy and chants APW! …

APW! ...

APW! ...

APW!…

But instead of Hurricane Jeff, Ian DeTornado's trademark Jeepney ride drives from the entrance stage to the ramp.


and the song "Man from Manila" starts to play and replaces Jeff's music.
Mix reaction from the fans fills the arena.

Then upon reaching the middle of the ramp, Ian DeTornado (wearing a black "SWA rocks and your FED sucks" T-shirt )jumps off from the driver's seat and then start climbing the ring post, points to the audience before doing a back flip towards the middle of the ring.

Harvey: Oh my god! The famous "Pacific Disaster" Ian DeTornado is here at APW!!!

Chase: Yeah! The bests of this business are all coming to APW for biggest PPV of world, the annual Survive and Conquer!


DeTornado takes the mic and starts to talk.


DeTornado: Once again… Once more… Your APW is not Defective, It's just me… I am Ian DeTornado and welcome to my show, "The DISSaster Super Show"!

Yes, you people are not dreaming, and you hear it right, "The Pacific F*** Disaster" is here at APW, The so called Freaking Federation of the best fighting machine of the world, the land were Megastars and greats belongs! Wait… I am one of the greats, do I also belong here? Would you guys want me here?


The APW Crowd reacts positively and even chants "We want you!"


Okay guys let me decide for that after the Survive and Conquer! I still don't know if I can stand with this APW's PG-13 environment... For I am more "RATED R" than Adam "Edge" Copeland!
Speaking of the Pay-per-view, I come here to talk about it and to comment my opponents.

On Sunday, I'll be solely representing my Fed, the great "Sedition Wrestling Alliance" to beat the living craps out of those other 39 useless individual from different stupid Feds and promotions!

Yeah man! I am so bored and done hearing their stories about their personal and professional survival and how they would try to conquer the victory land! So it's my Honor to give you APW fans the privilege to hear live my own version of the story about "Survivals and Conquers".

I was born by a very poor family in Manila, trained my body with every hardships of life financially, physically and mentally! I start fighting by joining street fights and riots, doing destabilization against the rich and government. I been jailed many times before becoming a MMA fighter. I been one of the best MMA artist not only in the Philippines, but also in the whole asia; before leaving my comfort zone and taking risk here at America. Luckily, EwC signed me a deal and became main stay at Friday Night Rampage. As a newbie in the business, it was so hard, specially fighting against some legends and veterans on the early days of my pro-wrestling career. People criticize me for I can't talk good english, but who cares if I can't talk the talk, what is important is I can fight the fight!!! And unlike my batch mates at EwC, I am still wrestling, and even stayed at EwC until it finally closed its door.
Then I went to SWA and fight with the fed's trademark risky mortal combats with unusual twists. I even win matches dispite of The Sedition Boss' frequent screw job on me… oh wait I even won the SWA Championship and retains it from april until now, by beating every best fighter in SWA, I don't just Conquer, I Dominate!


And On The Pay-per-view main event, I don't need to survive, for I will dominate against the other 39 freaks, all I need to do is to conquer the land of victory, for I can see no challenge from my competitors, not been from the Megastars of APW!!!


Then, the Titantron bursts to static as the lights all dim down and begin to flash different colors at random, the fans turn their eyes to the entrance ramp, as all the light go out. A voice comes out over the speakers saying "Boy don't fear the Raper." and then the lights come on. "Everything" by Pillar hits the speakers now and the lights begin to flicker red, white, and blue. The fans all begin to cheer, but…

Instead of Pence Weatherlight, a gay looking puppet with violet eye shadows, pink blush on and lipstick appears at the torn.

DeTornado: Who the hell are you?

Puppet: I am Fence, "The Puppet Raper" Fence Gayweather-lite!!!


DeTornado: oh, so Fence? what do you want?

Puppet: I heard you loud at the backstage, ever word you spit makes me sick… what the hell are you telling these APW fans that we, megastars and S&C competitors re no challenge to you? you one of the great? are you crazy? nobody wants you here… I don't want you to APW!!!

DeTornado: APW Megastar and S&C? no challenge for me? i did not said that, you said that! Who cares if you don't want me in here, The APW Presidents wants me here, he even convince me every time we see each other, as the matter of f***, I even composed a song for it… are you guys want to hear it?

the crowd chants "DeTornado"… "DeTornado"… "DeTornado"… "DeTornado"…

DeTornado gets a gutter from his Jeepney ride, begin strumming it and sings in the tune of "Billionaire" by Travis Mcoy and Bruno Mars.

President Jeff want to sign me here,
so freaking bad…
and promise to give me everything I want to have,
He wants me to be the cover of... APW Magazine,
Smiling next to Sally and Biggs…
But every time I close my eyes..
~what to see, what to se~
I see Pence Weatherlight.. ohoh yeah!
Sucking Different c*cks every night!
oh I~ I swear, The world better be prepared,
coz Jeff wants me here… Oh I ~ Oh I…
and the fans want me to fight here…

Jeff want me to sign here, so freaking bad…

after the song, the crowd chants with "more… more… more!!!"


DeTornado: I am sorry fans if you want more, you better listen to my radio show every night!

Puppet: You can't beat 39 person with a song idiot!

DeTornado: Why not? even a 5 years old girl can beat those competitors!
whom to I should afraid of? Lester Only aka Level None?

Puppet: It's Level One!

DeTornado: Level none

Puppet: Level one!

DeTornado: Level None

Puppet: Level One!

DeTornado: Whatever Level, One, two or three? it doesn't matter, for I am far high compared to him, he's not on my level, for me he's level none!

Puppet: Okay, do you have what it takes to compete against our APW HW Champ, Sally Talfourd?

DeTornado: Oh Sally Girl, I missed that gorgeous tough woman.

Puppet: Missed? Why?

DeTornado: huh? you don't know? Sally was my lover, she's my ex girlfriend!


Puppet: No way!

The crowd erupts with boos!

DeTornado: You want proof?

The crow chants "We want Proof! we want proof!"

DeTornado: Okay because you want, here it is!

DeTornado raises his right middle finger to the air, and the crowd starts laughing.

DeTornado: This is the proof, smell it so you will prove it by yourself… she use it everyday when were still on relationship, so her scent sticks here at my F-finger! That why I love that girl, and I am willing to protect here against those 38 scrotum skinned jackals.

Puppet: so how would you win the match if you will try to protect her?

DeTornado: I can win the rumble even not hurting her, I am Ian DeTornado, so trust me that I can do it! I may ask her to back out against the match and promise her with some kiss and bananas, oh my kiss worth more than the S&C prize money! Or If ever that I would need to eliminate her, let just say that Love is Sadistic sometimes!

Who else in the competitor can stop me? who? XXX Flame? F*** that name, it is so corny, it sounds like Porn title, let me give tagline for that…. XXX Flame, where sluts are open 24/7!

The crown laugh.

Speaking of stupid choice of ring name… UltraMarcus? what a cheesy ring name! Are he trying to apply as new robot for the Power Rangers? Its funny how he claims to be an immortal and backing himself with some fairytale of his own... Damn, why some psychologically impaired persons like him are allowed to join S&C? And he even talks to Ajinomoto... a famous Japanese MSG and seasoning brand!

Who? "The Whining Machine" Ryan Ruckus? who still crying for his Last Year's S&C lost...like a two years old girl? Oh Cry baby cry!!! can somebody change his wet diaper and give him some milk? or maybe someone needs to poison him to stop the drama!

Big Dead Chicken aka Chris Defool? Why that old fart still wrestling? he should join Mr. Hawthrone at retirement home, for a rotten old american can do nothing on the multi competitor match, no chance at all, arthritis!

Kip Kutler? did I made him looks like tool when we fought each other for my first main event at EwC Rampage? It supposedly triple threat match between me, him and French Montana, but it became as one-on-one between Frenchy and I, what he did? he slept at the corner!

Oh Mike Park? is his name a rip off from Mike Shinoda's Linkin park? Like James Logan, a failed attempt to steal a name from marvel comics, Oh Cobra? so where's GI-Joe?


Then we got JT Cash and the Kash brothers… do you know what they family names rhymes with? Crash... that's what will going to happen to them!


Oh Ebon, the caveman terrorist, that neanthertal man is only good in burning APW's office files and garbage instead of fighting those people behind those documents. I have nothing against him, but once he cross my territory, I would put him inside a Manila envelop and send him back to Iraq!


But a least we got a very courteous and dumb-ble... I mean Humble CJ Gates! thanks for the compliments man, don't you worry for I won't eliminate you very painfully unlike what I like to do with the others, just keep your ass out of my way man, and you will be fine!

And Victor Hades! Is he aligned with The Sedition? so like his stablemates, he can't win a match without cheating, but that won't be allowed as long as i am in the ring!

Oh The Gambler! The guy who depends with roll of the dice and luck! Sorry man, but luck is not enough for you to win, for I am here to oppose your luck with pure talent! I will not allow a luck dependent person like you win against us who train hard and mastered techniques!

no one is good enough to shake my knee and draw sweat from me!!!


Puppet: How about Psycho Dragon? Your former rival...

DeTornado: PsyDrag? Did I beat him for the SWA championship very easy? and i am the reason why he live SWA, for he can't be a champ as long as I am around, that why he keeps avoiding me!

And for the rest? what can i say about them, they are so irrelevant, it's useless to ids or even to mention their name on my show!

I am "The Pacific Disaster"
The Thrillah of Manila
Always ready to takedown all those Mega-Gorilla
Just to win the $500,000 worth Golden banana
as my ticket to RassleMania!!!

Puppet: Oh really?

Just right after Fence Gayweather-lite words, someone jumps over him and the camera as see on the torn stumbles.

Harvey: Oh my God, somebody had jumped over "The Raper".

DeTornado tries rolls out the ring to run backstage and check it out but he was stopped by….

"Fuel by Metalica" Hits the PA, A Monkey walks through the curtain. It raises its right arm in the air, looking around at the laughing fans as it does it. It the rushes down to the ring apron and slides in. Then the monkey gets on the middle turn buckle and raises its right arm in the air again, while looking at the laughing fans once more before monkey flipping to the mat.

Harvey: Oh the worst megastar wannabe is here…

Chase: "The Super ZOOnic" Brendan Monkey!!!

The monkey tried to reach DeTornado to shake hands, and the fans erupted with boos!

As DeTornado reaches his hand too for the shake hand, the monkey jumps over him and tries to bite his ear and choke DeTornado with its tail. DeTornado falls to the canvass, then the monkey goes for springboard body splash before climbing the top rope.

Chase: Oh My god, Monkey is trying to nail DeTornado with his Monkey flip 630… This is insane, a APW exclusive!

Harvey: it is called "ZOOnic Boom"!


The Monkey flip and rotates 630 degrees only to be cached by DeTornado's knee.

Chase: Ouch! that hurts big time!

Then DeTornado lifts Monkey to his shoulder and delivers "Tornado F5". After that DeTornado goes for Springboard and nailed Monkey with his "Tornadosault"…. And The Fans erupts with excitement. DeTornado picks the mic and says


DeTornado: Once again... Once More... Your APW house sho is not defective, It's just me, Ian DeTornado, saying Good night and Thanks everyone for watching my mini show!

DeTornado's theme starts playing, but was cut shortly after a group of APW security personnel appears at the stage.


So DeTornado rolls out of the ring as the Security group rushes to the ring and chases Detornado, He run through the cheering fans as the scene fades to black with a message that said:

Notice to the Public:
As a compliance to PETA, no Branden Harvey nor Pence Weatherlight is hurt on making of this promo.

[Level-Two]

The first thing he saw when he opened his eyes was a light possessing the essence of the sun which was far more blinding then the cover a darkness he was under on his way here. Where he is he? It's funny you ask because we nor he has the answer. Disoriented, lost—dare I say, scared? For while he knew every inch of the squared canvas and could cordon off the ring making it twice as small for his opponent and more often then not could dictate the pace of any fight he was in, this time he had no control.

''Are you ready to tell us everything you know?''

The blinding light must've done it's job because he couldn't see it anymore. What he did know is that he was in an empty room and strapped to a chair like a c4; an interesting analogy for an explosive situation.

''Lester Only. We need you to think long and hard as far as back as a month ago. You wrestled on December, 19th, 2010 against Sally Talfourd...''

The robotic voice spoke to him as he rolled his head over showing a sign of exhaustion. A few seconds passed which was enough to jog his memory.

''Yes, I remember. Level-One lost to Sally Talfourd. She took his title. I saw her do it. I watched happen on television with my therapist, you can ask her—she'll tell you!''

''What do you mean you watched it happen? You were there. You are Level-One!''

''I don't remember being there damn it!''

He looked down at his arms stained with dirt, as if he had been dragged through mud on his way here. More noticeably, we're the small electrodes strapped to his arms, legs, and head.. In the heat of the moment, he rips one off—resulting in a shock wave jolting through his body.

''AHH!''

He cried out. The robotic voice once again spoke, calmly.

''We need answers, Mr. Only and we need them now...''

-FLASHBACK-

We find ourselves a week removed from today, in a nightclub on the upper east side of town. The flashing lights was enough to kill a room full of epileptics while the bass pumping through the stereo was more of an inappropriate reminder of hati the way it seemed to shake the earth to it's core. There was no better way to prepare for a match then a good night out, some say. It gave the free agency a chance to get to know each-other on a personal level which was bound to make them that much stronger as a unit come Survive and Conquer. Plus, would you turn down the VIP to the hottest club in town? Loser.

''Knuckles. One tough son of a bitch he is. A loyal man but not to me. He'll save my blood but he'll shed it later. The type a guy you want to keep along simply because you know he's going to do damage and make your job in picking up the scraps, that much easier. He has the heart of a warrior but a brain of a mouse; as if a slice of cheese in the middle of a empty garage is naturally, plausible. You'll take the bite though, won't you—you hungry son of a bitch? It is for the greater cause, I suppose...'''

Level-One thought to himself as he watched Knuckles engage in a shoving match with another patron. His eyes stalked his ally today, potential enemy tomorrow meticulously as a blonde waitress carrying a trey walks passed him, muttering words; ''you ordered to coke right?''; he nodded his head in a bothersome rhythm grabbing the glass off the trey and shuffles the bartender out of his field vision, setting his eyes on James Logan.

''Unlike Knuckles; James Logan was much more intelligent but nobody could see it through his socially awkward behaviour which verged on retardation. James Logan is only a threat in a final two scenario if I am forced to fight against him which means he must be sacrificed before then. I don't have to worry about James Logan turning his back on me which is a relief. And here everyone else believes he's the odd one out, fools...''

James Logan simply stands by counting the number of beautiful women with his eyes, each one of them ignoring him on the way by. Level-One quickly spins around and runs right into Ryan Ruckus. The coke slips out of his hand and glass breaks. Ryan Ruckus looks down at the spilt substance.

''Is that rucking coke?''

Ryan Ruckus asked. Ignoring the question, Level-One peered over the head of Ryan Ruckus as if he was looking for someone.

''Where's J-Kash?''

Ryan Ruckus giggled.

''I don't know but I heard someone was doing shots of the abdomen of a stripper. Crazy guess, but I think it was him...''

''Jason Kash. The life of the party. Jason Kash was a straight say it to your face, kinda guy. He understands the concept of the ends justify the means better then anyone else I have ever come to know; Jason Kash through his actions has made it clear that we are partners in business first, friends last. And while he was loyal to Knuckles, I doubt he'd hesitate to strike even his own friend if meant being five hundred grand richer. The only difference between me and Jason Kash is every time I step into that ring, I fight to survive and conquer where he merely fights for spoils. My third eye will be watching Jason Kash very closely...''

''So what are you thinking about?''

Ryan Ruckus asked which startled Level-One who shook his head back and forth quickly, shrugging the concern of his ally off treating it like a grain of salt to a MC donalds fry.

''Nothing, man....''

Ryan Ruckus nodded his head downward respectfully as he tapped Level-One on his shoulder and walked past him as he disappeared in a large crowd of people mingling on the dance floor.

''Ryan Ruckus. My biggest ally and perhaps my greatest foe. The wounds are still fresh from the elimination he helped attribute to last year but I have learnt from my mistakes. The number game is on my side and now it's time to use it to my advantage. I can't trust Ryan Ruckus anymore than I can trust DangerTainment or any other free agent but I do know that deep down Ryan Ruckus wants to survive as long as I do. We may not risk our own wealth, health or anything else in the name of saving the other but there's nobody we rather see standing at the end, then ourselves. Though, once we get there—one of us are bound to have some regrets. For you will not beat me Ryan Ruckus; not this time, friend...''

Level-One tilts his head over his shoulder and spots Ryan Ruckus looking at him from a distance. The allies grin at each-other before turning their attention elsewhere at the same time, as if Ryan Ruckus was a mere reflection of Level-One.

''I'll only lose if I beat myself...''

-REALITY-

''That's all I can remember...''

The former world champion said as he slumped his head over the neck of his chair. This answer obviously didn't go over too well with his captors who were getting more aggressive with each passing minute; minutes which seemed more like hours to Level-One.

''That was absolutely useless! You are playing games with us Lester Only, we know you know more then you've let on! These people you talk about do you think they have anything to gain by stealing top secret technology?''

''Top secret technology, what the hell are you people talking about!? Me and the guys, aren't running missions. Though, there was this one time where we shat in the womens locker rooms gym bags...''

''The pill! Lester, we are talking about a pill!''

''I don't know anything about a stinkin' pill... but if there was one person I'd lead you to, it'd be Chris Defoe. An old out of shape bastard who would have everything to gain by setting me up with this bullshit! There's no way, he isn't downing a bottle of pain killers just to get his out of shape ass out of his retirement home, never mind lift his bad leg to kick me in the goddamn face with it. He can't keep up with me, he knows he doesn't stand a chance this Sunday—and so he probably put all you up to this! You're working for Chris Defoe, aren't you! American traitors! He's welsh!''

''Shut your mouth, you idiot! The pill... it is top secret. It's gone. Along with hours of research and with our top secret patents gone the potential for our technology falling into the wrong hands is grave. MEM-184 is a pill that induces long term and erratic memory loss, especially of traumatic events. However, it hasn't been tested on a live patient we don't know how it exactly works...''

''You know, I'd sue you bastards if I knew my lawyers name right about now!''

''Lester Only, we need you to listen to us. We need you to follow our...''

Suddenly, his eyes rolled back into his head, he drifted away...

''We're losing him!''

-FLASHBACK-

A few days before the big spectacle in Las Vegas Nevada; Level-One had decided to get away by taking a trip half way across the country, to Tokyo Japan. The argument could be made that his booking agent needed to be fired but he threw caution and logic to the wind for a little piece of mind. There was something he felt that was missing and would travel great distances to receive it. The Japanese press was all over it.

''What brings you to Japan?''

A small petite interviewer asked Level-One who had arrived on scene outside an airport with a translator.

''Victory''

He replied, issuing a small statement in even shorter words.

While the Japanese natives were surprised to see Level-One arrive in Japan; there was one man who expected him. Arriving at a local dojo, Level-One marched through a large door with two big symbols he couldn't decipher on the front. A man stood in the middle of the ring wearing a mix martial arts, GI; he didn't turn to greet his visitor and kept his back to Level-One as he laid down his big duffel bag on the outside of the ring.

''I knew I'd see you again...''

The man spoke still with his back turned to Level-One who sighed as he put his hands out in-front of him leaning against the edge of the ring.

''Forty other competitors all looking to win. Some are looking to make name for themselves, others looking re-affirm and justify theirs while others are just in it for the thrill of the competition or the prize in the name of it. The thing about is, I don't know half of these people or what they're capable of...''

''And you want my help?''

Silence was universal for nothing that needed to be said. The man turned around and finally looked at Level-One. The man was none other then Lee Takashi and old time trainer and friend of Level-One before he moved from the U.S back to his homeland in Japan.

''In this match anyone you haven't heard of already, doesn't need to be named...''

''Kenny Casual? Mike Park? Lily Rose?''

''You've failed already...''

''Sorry...''

Lee Takashi spins around on his pivot preforming a spinning backhouse kick to the mid air as he tried to emphasize his next point.

''Keaton Saint was just lucky when he beat you where as Sally Talfourd sprung up out of nowhere to take you by surprise and merely caught you off guard. Where as, Pence Weatherlight was merely a timely opportunist; who was a second away, from being another casualty at Rasslemania...''

''So you agree?''

''Branden Harvey and XXXflame are nothing more then cannon fodder fit for the top rope...''

''I can't argue with that one...''

''Victor Hades won last year but this year he doesn't stand a bat in hell's chance of winning the survive and conquer two years in a row now that this time around, Ryan Ruckus is on your side...''

''Okay, so maybe I don't know where this is all going...''

''You have the numbers. You control the environment. Thus you control the pace. You control the mind of men, don't you? After-all the blueprint has been written in the past and now the future is nothing more then a blank sheet to be marked by your pen with any final result, you choose to see fit...''

''All that all is really flattering, but don't you think you're giving me a little too much credit here?''

Level-One asked as he casually rolled under the bottom rope and entered the ring to which Lee Takashi merely extended a hand placing it across the chest of Level-One.

''Too much credit? You're Level-One goddamn it! You're the greatest competitor to have ever stepped foot inside this ring, you don't need me...''

''You taught me everything I know!''

''Exactly, Lester; and that's the point! I let you be cocky, I let you turn into a bully, I let you become a monster all because it paid off; but where has that gotten you now that the magic has worn off? You're here, begging me to give you something I don't have in hopes that you can use to to trade it in for 500, 000 grand and world title shot. All the while I'm here trying to rebuild my families name after the life I failed to make for myself in America. You are the way you are in part because of me...''

''Come on, man. Don't do this...''

''This is tough love, Lester. I can't help you out. Only you can save yourself. It isn't me—the numbers on your side or even the friends you think you may have standing behind you that is going to win you this match. It's your heart. And as each day passes on the more I believe, you no longer have one. Goodbye, Lester...''

Lee Takashi pointed at the dojo doors as his former protege gritted his teeth and existed his ring. He cursed under his breath as he grabbed is big black duffel bag with all his belongings and slung it over his shoulders. As he exited the dojo, the symbols on the door although in a different language spoke to him.

Honour. Respect. Loyalty...

Three things money couldn't buy. It was as if a veil of darkness had been lifted from his eyes, seeing light for the first time...

Right before darkness takes it's stranglehold, again. With a bag over his head everything slowly faded to black...

-REALITY-

''Then the next thing I know, I'm sitting here sitting in this goddamn chair with a bright light staring at me all because you motherfuckers decided to kidnap me and hold me hostage!''

A disgruntled Level-One said, as he hawked a slab of spit into the floor.

''Tell us more about this Sally Talfourd...''

''I already told you everything I know, asshole! She's a psychopathic bitch who tried to kill my girlfriend and my unborn children and I am sure she stole this stupid pill of yours and laced it in the backstage stash of brownies. I'm sorry, but that is the only logical explanation I can come up with! After everything we've been through, I'm sure Sally Talfourd was elated to ruin my memory in hopes that I'd move on and leave her alone with the APW world championship. Sally Talfourd isn't a champion; she's a fraud and I think you should let me go, so I can eliminate her at Survive and Conquer and we can all go about our day, how does that sound?''

''You killed her didn't you!?''

''Killed who? There's murder involved in all this? Fuck no! It was Victor Hades! Have you seen that freak? He's as pale as a ghosts ass. He wears make up. He dresses up for Halloween during Christmas. The man is a complete nutcase! He's probably shooting a promo out in the rain right now! The facts are there. When Victor Hades isn't winning matches, he's kidnapping wife's—Jesse Nunez knows all about that. It's his way of trying to stay relevant. Edgy. God knows, there's no way in hell he's going to win this match two years in a row with his ring rust; this must be his way on mowing down the competition....''

He took a deep breath and waited for a response and when one didn't come for first time he felt he was going to get out of here in one piece. A few moments later a figure kicks down the door and storms into the room, wearing a military fatigue. A second man wearing a dress shirt with his cuffs folded up to his forearms came marching in behind.

''Thank you! Finally, you guys have come to your senses! You don't know how goddamn uncomfortable this chair is...''

He said with a sigh of believe for looking up to see a clench fist flying his way, rocking him square across the jaw, as the man in the white dress shirt spoke with a desperate tone.

''You killed her didn't you son of a bitch!?''

''What the fuck are you talking about!''

The man reached into his back pocket pulling out his wallet. He flipped it open with one hand, exposing Level-One to a picture tucked in it. The face was familiar; way too familiar....

''Kayla Rose!?''

Kayla Rose was dead. It was moment he thought he'd one day celebrate but the news wasn't nearly as climatic as he thought it'd be. Although, she made his life a living hell; she could have been saved and made a turn for the better; something that he himself tried his best to do up until this very day.

''She's my sister and I know you know what happened to her!''

Violently, Level-One thrashes in his seat as the man in the Military Fatigue does his best to restrain him.

''He's have another one!''

-FLASHBACK-

Images flash through his head faster then he could keep up with them. He finds himself walking through a back alley way, where a bump jumps out of a garbage can and tackles Level-One to the ground. The homeless man falls on top of Level-One with a knife to his throat.

''What the hell are you doing!''

Level-One yelled out as he could feel the sharp knife easing it's teeth against his neck. The homeless man spoke softly.

''I know who you are. I know what you're about. I know who killed her...''

''Killed who!?

''I know this because I was there. I saw it happen. You're going to need to trust me on this. I know about the fight club...''

''What do you know about it?''

''I know that you're going to be as poor as me if it is a failure and you're bound to be scraping through garbage for soup cans with me out here for food. This is why you're going to need to win Survive and Conquer. If you want the truth, you're going need to pay 50% of the cut....''

The homeless man grinned as he stood up and took off running in the opposite direction...

-REALITY-

''I know nothing more!''

Kayla's brother clinched his teeth as he reached into his holster and pulled out a pistol. The man in military fatigues stepped in front of her brother and shook his head side to side.

''We need to get rid of him. He already knows too much. No-mans-land; 16 hours, tomorrow...''

---

The following is a recording from an audio tape;

(CLICK)

''Hello ladies and gentlemen. This is Level-One coming LIVE from the middle of the desert but DEATH says thats nothing more then irony...''

''I'm no genius but I'm willing to bet the brain I have that spending a day in the desert probably isn't the best way to prepare for a match but sometimes life throws you a few curve balls, either you make most of it and swing for the fences or you strike out and complain about it to the empire. And while I might never live to see home plate again; the fans in the stands are going to get their moneys worth. Bank on it...''

''And while I can't show you all my impressive training regiment and lateral lifts, as every last bit of energy I need to reserve to make it through the night; and while I can't babble on as nearly as long as Sally Talfourd does time and time again due to the recording limitations on this otherwise useless device; I can bring something to the table these people can't...''

''You'll never know the ethnicity of a man's merits until he's lying on his death bed...''

''And while a bed sure sounds nice right about now; I don't have one. The metaphor is still alive and well even when I'm not. I'm on the surface of death right now. Wandering helpless. They say nobody has ever made it out of here alive and I'm not foolish enough to think that I am any different...''

''This is the last hoorah...''

''So, as you sit at the edge of my metaphorical death bed; I want you to listen to me very carefully, can you hear me breathing?''

''Good. First, I'd like you to remember the number 36 for the number 36 is very important. It marks my expected entry into this match. Then, I'd like you to take note of entry number 1; Kenny Casual. Then number 15; Ebon. Number 30, Kurt Noble. Last and most wanted, entry number 40; Kip Kutler...''

''Forgot already?''

''It isn't the numbers that have no play. It isn't the numbers that you have forgot. It's the name and the order in which they arrive beside the number that is to be forgotten...''

''I'm Level-One. A future hall of famer and perhaps by the time you dig this tape up and play it back for all to hear; I would have already been inducted. You would have already had paid homage to me through the mere act of tradition...''

''You won't remember my five star rated promos. You won't remember my epic feuds outside a mere outline of what your grandfather told you what happened through his own battered memory. And the titles I won? Perhaps re-branded with bling, something more aesthetically pleasing to the youth of today, outgrowing the adults of tomorrow...''

''Some-say, nobody really gives a fuck about you or your family life and that the only thing that matters at the end of the day, is wrestling...''

''... and perhaps that's exactly why, we'll never been seen as anything more...''

''Why we will all be forgotten...''

''We are just wrestlers...''

''Well, I'm more then just a wrestler. More then just a goddamn circus lion to be pointed, cheered or jeered at. And when you dig this tape up in my shallow grave, you'll understand just who the fuck I really am. Human...''

''I guess the question is; did I Survive and Conquer in the year 2011? Or was the price tag of 500, 000 wasn't enough to bring back memories that are repressed?''

''All I know this, they'll mourn the day I die...''

''Then they'll forget me the next...''

-CLICK-

Several hours later; after a state wide search of Lester Only, aged 27; he was found in the desert alone bearing a tape recorder after a helicopter spotted him in a desert several miles removed from his home. It is still unknown how or why the former world champion was there. Rescuers stated that he was on quote;

''on the verge of death''

To survive is to conquer...

[Metrodamus]

The story of Herod the Great is well known. At the birth of Christ, fearing that his throne was going to be usurped by a babe, he ordered the slaughter of every child under the age of two in Judea. Named The Massacre of the Innocents, as Rachel wept for her children the Christ escaped to Egypt under the protection of the Angel of the Lord, not to return to his ancestors land until Herod had died.

Four hundred years prior to the Massacre of the Innocents in far away Actionia, a similar incident occurred however. In a land similar to Eden, prosperity was plentiful. All had sufficient food to eat, wine to drink, and the Gods looked favourably upon the land. The land of riches it was called and rightfully so, until the Hade of Myaglora drove out the Hart's, slaughtering all except the royal family and their infant son.

With new leaders, the prosperus society started to crumble. Factionalism and strife, followed by endless drought brought the society to the brink of devestation. Under the rule of Hade Actionia fell to it's knees – yet it was brought up by the returning Prince, leading a small band of invaders back to his home land.

For years the story of Actionia lay hidden in a cave off the cost of the Aegean sea, yet like the Dead Sea Scrolls, it's secrets were not secret for eternity.

---

Having wandered across the globe the aesthetic approaches the king of Actionia on bended knee.

“Your majesty,” he speaks softly “I received word that you required my assistance.”

The king looks down upon the frail man, his hair at waist level. To most he appeared as they do, a man who the famine had destroyed clinging to the meagre life that so many others shared. What they failed to see that it was by his choice that he lived this way. A man who had walked away from the prosperity previously enjoyed to grow closer to the ethereal beings, to gain the true knowledge of the earth and sky, of the waters and cosmos.

“Yes, petitions to the Gods have gone unanswered, my magi have failed to produce rain to from the heavens, the sorcerers unable to call upon the power of Hades to procure moisture from the dust. Seven long years my people have suffered due to this drought and soon my Kingdom will collapse” the king replies.

Too weak to smile, the aesthetic merely returns the gaze of the King with dimmed eyes.

“What then do you ask of me. If those who possess far greater power than I are unable to solve your issues, then how am I to save this land.”

“The prophecy” the king replies “it tells of a man who will lead Actionia into a golden age.”

“I know of the prophecy your majesty but it speaks of a king returning to his land and restoring it to glory. I am no king, nor prince. I am but one with all others, searching for the truth.”

The king looks down at the aesthetic with a petulant glare. For one so lowly as this, a beggar trying to survive on the accursed earth, to lecture as if he knew more than the King. If it were not for his needs the aesthetes would achieve his goal, one with the spirits as his head rolled across the marble floor.

“I am more than familiar with the prophecy ... I am the prophecy and yet it worsens. We were to be a power like no other under my rule. I was supposed to lead Actionia into the Golden Age, and yet now we are near ruins. Tell me, why is this so?”

The aesthetic shakes his head in the negative slightly as he stares up at the King.

“Then you are not the prophecy. The man it speaks of is yet to come.”

Turning to his right and looking at the palace guard, the king speaks two words as he steps off his throne.

“Kill him.”

As the king walks away, turning his back on the aesthetes the scythe of the palace guard sweeps through the air and lops the head off the aesthetes off. It lands on the floor with a resounding thud as the king steps into his ante-chamber.

---

“Pater, I don't understand.”

Looking up at his father seated on his knee, a child of about five looks up at his father with loving eyes. Dressed in a loincloth and nothing more, he appears just the same as his father. Tanned skin from the sun’s rays, a single cloth, covered in dirt shielding his body from nakedness.

“It is your story Christoph. To the west lays our land possessed currently by Hade, our people lying in suffering” the father says to his son. “You are the prophecy.”

“What is a prophecy?” The child’s questioning remark brings a smile to the face of his father.

“It is a story told before it happens that will come true.”

“So I will be king of Actionia?”

“Yes” the father replies, “son, you are the one.”

The young child leaps off his father’s lap before running across the dirt. His father smiles at the joy on his sons face but at the same time a lone tear rolls down his face.

---

“We are faced today with our destiny. You and you alone stayed loyal to me and my father as we fled Hade. Your sons and daughters have never known the splendours you enjoyed in Actionia, they have never experienced what it is like to belong. They have only known what it is like to slave in foreign lands for survival.”

Standing in front of thirty armed men, an older looking Christoph, about twenty four years of age, paces back and forth dressed in warrior's gear himself. His sword is sheathed and his breastplate glints in shimmering sunlight.

“Today however, you will receive your reward. You all know of the prophecy that the oracle stated that a prince would return to Actionia to save it from the despot possessing her soil. I stand before you as that prince, who will fight alongside you to recover OUR land from the rule of Hade!”

A loud roar rolls up from the crowd.

“This is our land that we swore upon our birth with our foreskins to protect. Today we take up sword and spear to honour that promise. We worry not about our wives at home because they do not have one. We worry not about our children because they have no future in our present condition. We worry for nothing, and strive for everything. Today, we fight the battle of our lives. We fight together, not divided as those who remain; we fight for each other as it is our kinship that will lead us to victory. Today, we take back our lands, today we can give our wives a home, our children a future and more importantly, we will return ... to GLORY!!!”

With that last cry Christoph turns on his heels and marches towards the palace in the distance followed by his men. O'er the plains they travel before eventually reaching the gates of Actionia, golden and polished. Standing atop them looking down are two armed soldiers.

“Halt! Who come ...”

The guard is struck in the larynx by an arrow fired by an archer in the back. The second guard quickly flees, sounding the alarm that intruders were on their way – the gate providing a blockade from the incoming avengers, buying the people of Actionia valuable time.

Christoph looks at the gates before beckoning from the back to two burly men, lengths of rope tied around their waist. They quickly unwind it before attaching grip hooks of bronze and passing them off to the archers who load their bows. They fire as the hooks go spiralling through the air, the ropes still tied to the men. Eventually the arch begins to fall, the hooks latching onto the back end of the wall as Christoph looks to the back and gets the signal from the men.

“FORWARD!!!” he yells with passion, as two at a time, men begin to scale the walls. After half of the men have reached the other side the cry's of battle, the clanging of swords on each other fill the air as the invaders fight against the approaching soldiers of Actionia. Slowly the operation continues as a few moans of despair and the heavy gasping of last breaths fill the air. Eventually it is only Christoph and the large men on the other side of the wall and the three begin climb up together, Christoph holding onto the ropes while the other two reverse repel.

On the other side of the wall the fighting is intense. The invading archers fire down on the madness as the swordsmen battle – forty Actionian soldiers taking the fight to the invaders, some being forced to battle two or three at a time. Christoph surveys the battle as the brutes join the fighting. Instead of following them in however he sneaks out the back and heads towards the palace a mile off by himself.

---

“...”

The palace guard is unable to speak as a throwing knife strikes him in the breast. His hands immediately go to his heart, his eyes paralyzed as life escapes them. Emerging from the shadows, Christoph heads enters the palace in search of Hade. Expertly designed, the king’s quarters were located in the center of the palace with numerous defences to protect it from invasion. The entire city must first have been conquered in order for the king to finally be reached, unless the lay of the land was already known.

Entering the king’s chambers, Christoph holds back his breath, hoping not to alert anyone to his presence. He breaths slightly as he sees that the first room is unguarded with four doors, one in each corner.

“The serpent deceiving creation, the sunshine bringing life, the river, representing Styx bringing the end and the man, ruler of all” Christoph recitres from memory.

The shortened version of the tale his father told was the key to the palace. Each door led to a different portion of the castle. To most it would appear as just a tale to warn the children, but to Christoph it was more; it would show him the way to his eventually destiny, a face to face with Hade, ruler of his kingdom that would soon be restored to him.

Quickly Christoph heads towards the far right hand corner – the son of man it was told, would be seated there in due course, the tradition of the Semites influencing the design of the Actionian palace. Pushing the door open, Chris steps through it, dagger in hand and swipes to his right before pirouetting and letting it fly through the air as the thud of two guards dropping to the floor is heard. One's juggular is sliced cleanly, while the other gasps for air as the knife has pierced his windpipe.

Turning his gaze forward, Christoph looks at a stunned Hade, haughtily sitting on his throne.

“Hade, your reign of my lands is over. Step down and face your maker and judgement” Christoph says.

Hade's face slowly changes from shock to a smirk as he looks at Christoph.

“Nay, this throne belongs to me. I am the prophecy and it is I who shall lead Actionia to glory.”

“For fifteen years you have decreed that you and you alone will restore Actionia to its former glory. You have covered their eyes with wool but today their blinds are removed, they will see what you have done to their lands. No more will they venerate you – instead they will come on bended knee once more to the Hart's!”

“The Harts” Hade scoffs, “don't be so foolish. Fifteen years ago it was I who obliterated them in fulfillment of the prophecy. Those who conquer shall not survive; in glory's stead shall the next come.”

“Yes, and fifteen years ago was the last time we saw rain fall from above, that the melody of the lyre was heard. You have conquered this land Hade and today, you shall not survive. In glory's stead I shall come. Glory is, Christoph Hart!”

Christoph removes his breastplate revealing his naked chest. On his left breast is a large brand of a heart surrounded by five stars, each one representing a different basic element of life. Seeing it, Hade shakes his head in disbelief.

“It cannot be?”

“It is Hade, despite your best intentions you are not fit to rule. You drove my family out, killing most but not all. For twenty years we have watched from afar as our people suffered, unable to help them until now. At this moment, they are being restored to the glory they so enjoyed under our reign. They're lands are being restored to them as each man falls.

Callaway the great falling at our hands, Saltal the barbaric putting forth a valiant effort but he too is unable to survive the wrath that has built up over twenty years. Ruckus, deTornadoin or Fire are no match for this conquering army.”

Christoph stares up at Hade with malice in his eyes but he does not attack, bidding a response from the former ruler which he receives.

“You cannot overcome me; the Actionian's will not allow it.”

“No, they will not allow their sons to continue to be catamite's to your reign. They will not allow their daughters to be embarrassed by humps of wedlock. They will no longer allow you to rape them if their dignity, of their pride, of their right to be of ruling class.

It is not out of memory the prosperity of yore, the fields rich with roughage. Meagre portions of grain they subsist on now were but a mid day meal, not a week's allotment of food. When they see that the Hart's have come back they will embrace us with open arms. As Cronus severed Uranus and Gaea, so to shall I sever you from this land. He who conquers shall not survive says the prophecy, says I, as I am the prophecy.”

“Foolish boy ...” Hade responds but is interrupted once more by Christoph.

“No, you are the fool, for believing so long that this is your land, that the lack of rain is because the Gods see that amongst them one does not belong and they seek to punish him. Hade, no more will you bring ruin to my lands – today, you shall ...”

Christoph reaches into his belt and grabs his final dagger before spinning around plunging it into the rushing guard as he stops immediately. Christoph pulls it from his breast and brandishes it towards Hade.

“Live by the sword, power from the sword. You’re entire life is predicated by it and today Hade, you shall perish by it.”

With that Christoph rushes Hade who reaches behind his throne to pull out his sword as Christoph unsheathes his. The two begin to battle, the clangs filling the air as the two grunt and groan with each swipe. Eventually Hade scores a blow, slicing into the unprotected breast of Christoph. He smiles however as with his other hand he uses the dagger and plunges it into the chest of Hade who lets out a gasp. Chris backs away while he looks down at the fallen king, blood beginning to pour from his mouth as he slowly gives up the ghost. Chris goes behind the throne and heads towards the staircase to the balcony.

---

Standing on the balcony, Christoph looks down at the people gathered inside of the palace walls. The new king of Actionia, he surveys their expression and looks at the bodies still lying slain in the distance.

“For twenty years you have lived in the desert, a people seemingly abandoned by the Gods. Yet today you are reconciled to them, today you have come home. For the past twenty years you have been under the rule of Hade who drove my family away from Actionia, who has ruled with an iron fist. His men, Ruckus the Great, Marcus Ultramus and Sterlingmine have enslaved you for their profit. Where as you once lived in prosperity you were reduced to slaves in your own lands, you’re daughters were made concubines for an oppressive ruler. You were always invited to feast twenty years ago, but since then you have been walled off from society.


No longer though, my family has returned to power!”

There is no applause, not until Christoph raises the sword that sliced him open towards the sky and the crash of thunder is heard. As soon as its reverberations dissipate the sky opens and a torrential downpour begins to rain down on the people. They do not flee the waters however; instead the shouting of all gathered is heard as they raise their hands in praise towards the sky. For the first time in twenty years the skies have given them hope.

“During that same time my father, the former rightful King told me stories of the land of plenty; bushels of grain as numerous of the stars, buildings of solid gold, immeasurable wealth. He told me of the prophecy.

The prophecy foretold of a king who would return, who would survive the tyrant’s takeover and lead the conquest of his own land. The prophecy today has been fulfilled, my destiny has been achieved. We were opposed by all with seemingly no hope. Previous raids were stopped with ease, the fortress of Actionia seemingly impenetrable. Like the Greek’s at Troy though we refused to cease our efforts, the spoils of victory, the saviour of our people was more important than our single lives.

That today is why we; you and those beside you have returned to glory. We were willing to sacrifice ourselves towards this goal. It has consumed us, day and night for years and that is why we were capable of taking down Hade, of avenging our losses from twenty years ago. Survive and Conquer, that was our lives – that is our life! We were determined to come out on top and no one was going to stop us, no one was going to stand in our way.

For twenty years we have slaved in foreign lands, doing acts unbecoming of a citizen of a city as glorious of Actionia. We toiled in the hopes that one day we would be able to return and today our joys our realized. Today we have survived and conquered!”

[Kurt]

Man-Made Luck

[/i][/center]

A wise man once said “Adversity introduces a man to himself.” It is adversity, defined as a state of serious or continued difficulty, that pushes men to their limits, and allows them to understand who they really are. There are those that will rise to the challenge…and others that will fail in the journey for self-discovery. Some survive, and some don’t. That’s the name of the game that Action Pack Wrestling intends to play.

On January 30th, forty men will step into the ring for Action Packed Wrestling’s “Survive and Conquer” Match, a contest so brutal that a prize of five-hundred thousand dollars has been offered to the survivor of the multi-layered challenge. Some will chase the thoughts of fortune, others will fight to prove that they are indeed the best in the wrestling world. World Champions, veterans, free agents, all have come across the globe to compete. Each man has a reason to prove why they are THE survivor.

Kurt Noble does not have such a reason. It has been many months since the now semi-retired wrestler has wrestled a competitive match-up. Amongst a promotion war, the stress of running his own company, and the realization that life moves on…Noble finds himself in the Survive and Conquer Match with a lost focus, wrestling as a clear underdog amongst the legends. Noble has had a storied career, but never has he faced so many competitors in one match-up. While Noble has the experience to survive, other factors are in play. In order to make it to the event, Noble must overcome his greatest diversity, the solitary concept that will hold him back in this match: Himself. Kurt Noble is his own greatest enemy come Survivor and Conquer. His own body, his own age, and his struggles are the enemies before the event even begins. To become a true survivor, Noble will find the willpower to be better than he has ever been before. The game of survival will not only determine if Noble emerges the Survivor on January 30th…but if his career continues.

Let the Game begin.

[/i][/center]

…”Mr. Noble, this is suicide! Pick up the phone, please! It is imperative that I speak to you!”

The scene begins by focusing in on a well lit room, which appears to be a cross between an office and a gym. On one side sits various weight benches, with free use weights scattered between the metallic machines. One the opposite side is a desk, with a computer set-up on it…but it’s the surroundings of that desk that are truly attention-grabbing. Overlaying the surrounding walls are dozens, possibly hundreds of papers, ranging from newspaper articles, to photographs. From the current angle, it’s impossible to tell the content of these papers. However, there is a solitary person gazing at them, his back to the nearby phone. That man is Kurt Noble, his eyes intently focused on the wall as he rubs his leg, gritting his teeth a bit every time he does, although he isn't paying attention to the pain, apparently.. He’s dressed in his workout clothes, but appears to be rather exhausted, as if he’s been working out for hours. In his other hand appears to be a small orange bottle, which he’s twirling absent-mindedly between his fingers.

?: “As your physician, I cannot allow you to compete in this monstrosity of a competition! Your leg has healed, but it cannot handle the stress of this kind of contest. Your leg muscles will shatter before the cage portion of the match even begins! Do you want to erase all the progress you’ve made in the past year?! Then call me back, please, and let’s talk about this! Don’t shut me out Kurt. My number is 407-…”

He’s cut off, as the answering machine interrupts his plea.

“…One new message, from phone number 4-0-7…”

Noble: “Kash and Knuckles have a team element going, but they’re still too far apart to keep a consistent partnership when the time comes. I can definitely see Wildman being a wild card...no pun intended...but guys like him tend to make enemies when they should be making friends…”

As Noble rambles on, his eyes scanning the various documents that surround the walls, another message plays in the background…

?: “Hello Mr. Noble, this is Gracie, calling on behalf of Bank of America. We were hoping to get an update on your payments, and we see that you haven’t been returning our calls. When you can, give us a call at phone number 407-34-“

The message cuts off, as Noble limps over, and taps the machine.

”Messages erased. You have no new messages.“

Noble walks back over to his wall of information, and resumes his gazing.

Noble: “APW has enough people spread throughout that there’ll always be one of their guys in the ring, probably Tulford making it to the finals, but there’s not enough of them to keep control of the match. Level-One is a solid favorite, and with a late entry, he’s got a near surefire shot at being in the finals with Tulford. Perhaps the IWC competitors find it in their best interest to-”

Amy: “Mind ungluing your eyes from that wall for a minute or two to catch up with your wife? She could really use some attention.”

Noble’s eyes shift towards the door, where his wife, Amy Register, is standing, two glasses of tea in her hands. Her presence elicits a small smile from Noble, who quickly puts the orange bottle in his gym shorts pocket. He then slowly limps over towards her, and plants a small kiss on her lips, before taking a glass.

Noble: “Thanks Sweetheart.”

Amy: “I’m beginning to wonder if coming in here naked would get your attention…but then again, you do tend to stare at pictures of half-naked men more than me, so maybe not…”

Her half-hearted joke gets a small chuckle from Noble, who downs the ice tea in one gulp, and puts it aside before limping over towards a weight bench, grabbing some dumbbells. He proceeds to do a few sets of bicep curls, as Amy absent-mindedly glances at the files tacked up on the wall.

Amy: “Maybe sometimes you over-prepare, Kurt. I don’t see how tracking Kip Kutler’s title reigns or Robert Ravencroft’s “vampire-like” activities is supposed to help you out on Sunday.”

Noble: “Always…know…the competitors…. If I get…inside their heads…they’re finished.”

Noble takes deep breaths in-between curls, and after a moment, drops the weights. He grabs his leg again, wincing ever so slightly as he does. Amy notices, her eyes showing a hint of concern.

Amy: “Your leg…is it hurting again?”

Noble: “Only slightly more than usual. I’ll chalk it up the stress of this promotion war with UWL. Nothing like facing foreclosure to get the muscles feeling alive, you know?”

Noble sits back, and grabs the bar above him, before lifting it and beginning his bench presses. Amy turns her attention to the answering machine.

Amy: “Who left messages, by the way? Anything for me?”

Noble: “Nothing…important. Just Jeof telling me not to…mess up his son this weekend. Being that he’s a…Caravelle, I don’t think I can mess him up much more anyway…”

Trying to avoid the topic at hand, Noble puts the bar up, before using it to pull himself up, his right leg hanging slightly limp as he does.

Amy: “Look Kurt, I understand you wanting to get back in shape for this thing on Sunday. I know you’ve gotten a little out of shape since last year, but Dr. Veritas warned you against straining your leg too much when you went to see him a few months ago. Just…be careful, alright?”

Noble: “My leg is fine, Amy. We’ve been over this. The Survive and Conquer match is the largest match I’ll have ever participated in, and I’d prefer not to blow Pride’s credibility by lasting a total of thirty seconds. If I screw this up, I doubt Pride will ever get another opportunity like this. Small companies only get to play with the big fishes once in a blue moon.”

Noble stands up, his knee shaking slightly, before walking over towards his abyss of information, next to Amy.

Amy: “And does Jeremy share your same mentality about this? He’s here in this match with you too, you know. I think he needs to know where you’re standing on the match…”

Noble: “That’s cute. Jeremy has a hard enough time watching his own ass. I’ll take care of myself in the match, and if he makes it to the end, good for him. But don’t expect me to cry foul and hide behind him when the match is underway, if he even makes it to my appearance.”

Amy: “Wait…are you serious? You aren’t even considering Jeremy a partner in this match-up? What about Stephen Callaway? Jeof’s son Evan?”

Noble: “Yeah, I’ll just call the enemies of my promotion up and politely ask them make sure I make it to the end…oh, but good luck to them, of course. Fabulous idea Amy…”

With a disgruntled and belligerent sigh, Noble sits in his computer chair, his strong leg slightly spinning him in the chair.

Amy: "I…I don’t want you to do this Kurt."

Noble: “And why’s that Amy? More complaints about my leg? It’s fine, Goddamit!”

Amy: “No… I mean continue competing. At all.”

Silence. Noble is at a loss for words, but Amy is dead serious. She walks over, and plucks out on of his grey hairs, surprising “The Noble One.”

Amy: “Kurt…you’re getting older. I’ve never wanted to admit it to you…but you’re not the kid you were when you started your career. You’re celebrating your thirty seconds birthday in less than three months. You’re older than almost anyone in this match-up. You’re slower, more irritable, and more stressed. All this information…I know you Kurt. You think you’re your own worst enemy because times have been tough on you, possibly for the last time in this career choice. You’re not preparing because this is a “big match.” You’re preparing because it might be the last match you have to prepare for. You told me you wouldn’t fight these battles alone anymore. Please…don’t.”

The air about the two is tense, for just a moment…before Noble smirks to himself. He sits back, and takes Amy’s hand, planting a small kiss on it, before rubbing her hand across the few gray hairs he has by his sideburns.

Noble: “So what would you have me to Amy? I won’t quit, not for this match…but if you have a suggestion, I’ll take it. You’re my partner, and I want your help to keep going.”

With a smile on her face, Amy turns, and scans over the papers, looking unimpressed..

Amy: “You want to know your opponents, right? These guys, their strategies are to ride their accomplishments to the top. So they’ll brag about their title wins, soak up any media attention they can get, and berate each other until they’re blue in the face. You know how many of them think they’re the best? All of them. They’re intimidating, and that's the game plan they're running with…but they’re not you. You have something they don’t: Luck.”

Noble: “I’m not sure a bum leg and gray hair agree with that statement, but it’s always nice to hear about being lucky from your wife…”

Amy turns towards her husband, true inspiration across her face..

Amy: “I’m serious, Kurt. You drew the 30th spot because you’re lucky. You’re under the radar of everyone, including the favorite likes Keaton and Level One, because you’re lucky. You’re in this match-up with the man that you run Pride with because you’re lucky. When push comes to shove, guys like Stephen Callaway and Masamune aren’t your enemies just because they work for an opposite company. You have their respect, and they’ll remember it. But you already know why you’re lucky. You enter this match one minute after Chris does.”

Noble smiles, hearing the oh so familiar name.

Amy: “Chris Hart and Kurt Noble…Pro Wrestling FIRE Tag Team Champions for six months. Never lost a match together.”

Amy: “Kurt…you may not want Jeremy’s help, or Evan Caravelle’s help, but Chris is the closest friend you have in this world. Someone, or something, wants you two to fight alongside each other one last time. The two of you can battle any alliances APW, UWF, or anyone make for that matter, and you’ll do it together in that ring. You’re friends…and he will stand beside you until the end. You know it Kurt.”

Noble eyes turn towards a hung-up poster, one of Noble’s closest friend, Chris Hart, the man that enters the match a mere spot before he does. He smiles, before standing up to get eye to eye with the poster.

Noble: “If only for the chance to face Chris one last time as the final two in the match…I’ll do it. I’ll work with Chris. For you, Amy. Maybe I am getting older…but-“

Amy appears a bit more relaxed, as she stands next to Noble. Suddenly, the distant doorbell can be heard.

Amy: “I’ll get it.”

She disappears for a moment, as Noble stares at the pictures on the wall, as if the gazes of the pictues are all staring down at Noble. He reaches into his pocket, and pulls out the orange pill bottle from earlier. A white word appears clear on the label: Oxycodone. Noble sighs, and mutters to himself, his voice trailing off in a disheartened manner.

Noble: “But…what if it that’s not good enough? What if I’m not good enough anymore? It’s been…a long time since I’ve fought like this. What if I can’t do it anymore? What if-“

Amy: “You have a package, Kurt. It’s from Robert.”

The name instantly makes Noble turn around, his eyes widened. In Amy’s hands lie a thin, slender brown package, and a note on top of it. Noble takes the note, and hastily un-wraps it, his hands shaking fervently, before opening the letter, and reading it aloud…

Dear Curtis,

It’s been many, many months since we last spoke. I’m still sorry to hear how things ended against Jerry McClean, but I do hope that you have not allowed the past to consume you. You are a stronger man than many give you credit for. Perhaps you’ve become even stronger since we parted ways.

I began writing this when I heard you’d been entered into Action Pack Wrestling’s Survive and Conquer Event. You are no doubt preparing tirelessly for the match-up, and I suspect you are working yourself to the bone. Very little changes as history progresses, I tell you. I have not written to give you any sort of real training advice, or tell you how to win this match-up. I may have been your manager for years, but to this day, you have more answers than I ever had. You are a smart man Curtis, something you have never given yourself credit for. I realize that at this point in your life, you’re beginning to reflect on your life, just as I did. You wonder if this might be the last chance you get for a big career win. If you needed one word to describe your career…it would be the word “survivor.”

Throughout the years, you have survived more than any man in wrestling history. The Oxycodone addiction, the min-numbingly painful leg injury, the stress to always be the best. I watched you survive, and adapt, creating a yearlong winning streak when other men would break. You do not break, Curtis. That is the strength you must play to. You fit Darwin’s theories better than any man in the match-up. You have the traits needed to survive…so use them. Do not outrun your opponents. Do not think you can overpower them. Do not attempt to outsmart them. Play to your strengths: You are a damn lucky man, and you can adapt. You can survive.

But in case that luck should fail, and in case the end does seem near…create your own luck. Weather the storm, even when things are at their worst. Dig deep, and when you think you’ve exhausted all you have, dig even deeper . You may not believe it, but there are people that believe that you can win the Survive and Conquer Match. Like me, for example. Believe in yourself, as I have believed in you.

With this letter, I have sent you something I treasure very much. Consider it a shoulder to lay on where there is no other, a light in the darkness, and a final gift from one friend to another. I am not there to watch you fight this battle, but you’re a smart man…you’ll be just fine without me. Find your footing, and you’ll survive this match-up. God Bless you Curtis.

P.S. And for Heaven’s sake, don’t make an arse out of yourself.

Sincerely,
Robert Banks

Noble finishes reading the letter, before slowly looking at the package, small tears forming in his eyes. He takes it, and savagely rips the box open, revealing a wooden cane. On the handle is a small, golden “fleur de lis,” a symbol of Noble’s hardships. The words “Believe when faith diminishes” is also written on the handle. Noble holds the cane close, a single tear rolling down his cheek. Amy is stunned to see the emotional breakdown of her husband.

Amy:” Kurt..?”

Kurt: “Jesus… Robert’s been out of the wrestling world for months, and he’s still right. He still believes I can win the big one. So be it…”

Noble turns, and in a fever, begins to rip the pages from the walls! Amy appears in shock as she watches her animalized husband at work, as he even uses his new found cane to rip the sheets of paper down!

Amy: “But, your files-“

Kurt:” Are bullshit! Amy, you and Robert are right. This match-up isn’t about who can lift the most, who can run the fastest, or even who the best wrestler is…it’s about who makes the most of their situation. *Those* are the survivors. You said it right, Amy…I am lucky. But it’s the luck I make that can win me this match-up. So I’ll play to my strengths. Guys like Chris Defoe and Kip Kutler may beat on me because they’re stronger, but I’ll still get back up. Sally Tulford and XXX Fire can outrun me, but I’ll still find a way to catch them. Adaptation is how I win this game, so that’s what I’ll do…but not this way. Not by analyzing. Not by studying. Simply by taking whatever’s thrown at me in the match, and changing as the match changes. So these perceptions, this know-it-all mind-frame…it has to go. Then I can truly think about the match-up.”

With a triumphant swing, Noble knocks the down paper, his breath loud and heavy. He smiles as he lifts up the cane, the true vehement power surging through him as he speaks.

Noble: “I’m not invincible. I’m not a God. I’m not any of the things those other thirty nine men claim to be. I’m…I’m a man. I’m a wrestler. Above all, I’m a survivor. In order for me to win this, I’ve got to let my body be at ease, and let my reflexes take over. I’m not as fast or as strong as them, but maybe…just maybe…they’ll give me one moment, just one Goddamn moment of weakness…and I’ll strike. When that moment comes, I hold nothing back. Saint, Level One, Tulford, Kutler, none of them will see it coming…and Hell, neither will I. It’ll happen when it happens. That’s the name of this game, Amy. That’s how I’ll play it, and that’s how I’ll conquer. That, Amy, is how I make it to the end.”

Amy: “And what’s at the end, Kurt?”

There’s an air of silence, before Noble turns towards his wife, a genuine smile across his face. He uses the cane to walk forward, and take her hand, their eyes locking as he speaks softly.

Noble: “When this is all said and done…I’ll join you, here. This is just something I have to do…but the end is near Amy. I promise you, when Survive and Conquer ends, I’ll stand beside you, regardless of the result. I’ll be your husband again.”

Amy smiles, and kisses his hand, as the two share a heart-felt moment tyogether….as husband and wife.

Amy: “I’d like that, Kurt. I really would.”

Noble: “Amy, could you go get me another glass of tea? I’ve got some relaxing to do before the match, and I’d like to do it together.”

Amy: “Yeah…no problem. Kurt…I love you.”

With a smile, Amy walks off, as Noble watches her.

Noble: “Yeah…I love you too Amy.”

She vanishes from sight, and Noble turns about, before opening a door to a small, cramped restroom. He puts the cane aside, before turning on the faucet and washing his face. He finally turns off the water, but a crinkling is heard in his pocket. Noble reaches in, and pulls out…the pill bottle. Instantly, his smile diminishes, and he looks into the mirror, the ominous bottle clearly in his sight, a clear demon that has haunted Noble across the years. He clutches the bottle, his hand shaking as he speaks..

Noble: “But…there’s still a choice left, one way to turn the tide in my favor. If I take this…I can be just as good as them. The pain will subside, and I can fight. I can wrestle. I can live for God’s sake. If I win that money, I can pay back all the people I owe for this promotion war. I can live peacefully with my wife…but at what cost? What do I do Robert?”

Noble whispers the last line to himself, before looking over at the cane, specifically at the one line written across it in gold writing…

”Believe when faith diminishes.”

Noble grins, knowing what he must do. He slowly cracks open the bottle, and pours a few Oxycodone pills in his hand. He raises them near his mouth…before stopping, and poruing them down the drain, along with the rest of the bottle! He throws it aside, before taking his cane, and looking into the mirror.

Noble: “I’ll believe…and make my own luck.”

Noble uses his cane to flip the nearby light switch, turning off the lights, and sending the camera to blackness, as the sound of the cane is heard, thumping against the ground…

The greatest battle a man can face is within. Throughout his life, Noble has constantly battled his own demons, and each has taken its toll on “The Noble One.” He can no longer physically compete with today’s generation…but his fate has not been written. Only Kurt Noble can control his own fate, and at Survive and Conquer, that’s what he must do. Thirty nine other men stand in-between Noble and a prize that could change his life *forever*. Noble has overcome his own adversities, and now stands ready to do battle on January 30th. Past the darkness, there is a dawn, a light, waiting at the end. Through his own strengths, he will fight this match-up his way, and make it to the end his way. When the time comes, and Noble steps out into that ring, he will be one thing…

He will not be the best wrestler in the match.

He will not be the toughest wrestler in APW.

He will not be a God among men.

Simply put, he will be…

A survivor. The luckiest one alive.

[robertravencroft]

Robert:"Everyone's saying this and that" why they deserve to be crowned the one true survivor of this contest it's sad.

"the truth is this whole thing is a nightmare come to life for my opponents" nobody can deny what the cards have foretold nor can they change what fate has chosen for them.

"Worthless amateurs are coming out of the woodwork's acting like they're the biggest thing since sliced bread when that's far from reality all i see are hopeless lost souls and sinners who think they can dance with the devil in the pale moonlight all i see are rejects losers misfits that have yet to accept me as they're one true savior but do not fret for i will wipe your minds clear of all your bad memories all the pain all the suffering all the sorrow no longer will your heart ache no longer will you have to live in a society where everyone looks down on you because i'm this world's new leader new ruler new GOD!.

"Go ahead pretend that your life is fine pretend that everything's okay it won't matter in the end because we'll all die alone in this cruel society.

"So Join me in my new world won't you? and remember your either with me or your against me make your decision salvation or devastation only you can make that choice are you happy enough with that worthless life you have now or will you step up to the plate and live in peaceful paradise.

"This place could use the clean up anyways i mean your big champion is a girl?! wow talk about humiliating whoever lost to that barbie doll should just retire it's bad enough that i have to compete in the same match as some half ass rookies and freaks but i also have to waste my time on some supermodel who probably doesn't know a thing about wrestling heh but don't worry babe just like everyone else involved you'll learn a lesson you'll never forget quote the ravencroft nevermore!

[Carter Rutherford]

Title:In the Words of Johnny Cash
Location: Las Vegas, Nevada
Date: 29th January 2010
Time: 09:20

"Do you remember the last time you were in Vegas?"

The question hit me, as the imagery and melodies, contrasting sounds of old all began to come back to me.

The parallel sound of the lyrics from Roger Wright's theme "Deny Me" by Soil played the tune that could not have construed the setting that had just taken place anymore fittingly; as I had indeed being denied. He stood aloft the top turnbuckle, perspiration when hit by the house lights turning his body into a suit of gleaming chrome as I felt the will power drain from my body.

"Yeah, huh." I muttered. "I remember too well actually."

Entering the backstage area, I stumbled through the chocolate dark colored curtain and leaned against the poles that held the production area in place. I wobbled forward. My forearm over my stomach and ribs, my breathing loud and intense as I could feel the anger from within simmering within my eyes. Noticeable even to those who looked at me from a far-away distance at the fallen and foundered challenger. Taking a moment, I leaned against the production areas poorly constructed walls to compose myself. Inhaling and exhaling the auras. I could feels the toxins disintegrating my lungs.

"I remember walking into the MGM Grand; full of life." My voice came to a crackling halt. I took a swig of water and screwed the cap back on. "HEERRM... Sorry. Yeah, I was all confidence. I was ready to take on the world that night. And even during that match I thought I was going to take Roger down. But Roger was too good."

Stephanie sighed. She repositioned herself. Her dress was twinkling, even in the dim lights of the hotel room. The blue color of her eyes had an ultramarine glow. The glitter which barely rose from her face made her seem more glamorous as her high heels made the faintest of noises on the soft, plush carpet.

"That was months ago. Back in April if my memory is correct." Indeed she was. "Why d you still care?"

I had just left the warm, acidic environment of fresh incense with an intense perspiration odor, that pervaded the arena, and had fallen into the astringent laced, coffee bean scented area of dark colored cameras as the producers and sound engineers left the section of the building, almost as if they were shunning me . . .

"Because!" I exclaimed with a small vagrant of vehemence in my tone. Clenching my hands tightly. "He was the one. He was the one at the time who everybody had their eyes on! And if I had beaten him for that title, only, on that given night..."

I paused. I stared off into the distance. I was placing so much focus into the reminiscing I had came to a complete halt in my speech.

Yeah, go on? Stephanie eagerly inquired.

. . But they weren't! I'd had just grown paranoid and schizophrenic towards the world around me, but I was sure of one thing and nobody could eschew it; all my hard work had came to nothing. Hours of training, my practice and this whole fucking whole conquest in New Edge Wrestling had reached the final hurdle only to hit it at full speed and come to a crashing slump. And now as I finally cached my breath, painstakingly straightened my back, a loud crack hollowly rang out as I took one final breath outwards before walking onwards, slowly, flaccidly down the long brightly lit hallway where I could do nothing but think and languish in defeat, knowing I'd failed everyone who had faith. . . Within me.

"...I'd have been the man."

My feet began to move by themselves. I rose from the edge of the bed and inched my way across the room. Nerves running through me as I came to the large window which looked down on the glossy, sleazy yet attractive Las Vegas Strip. The feeling had returned.

Pressing my hand onto the window as a sign of his discomfort, my exhalent grief flowed throughout the room remorsefully, echoing the resilient qualities that had been stressed to their ultimate breadths during these few months of turmoil.

"The second last time I was in Veg..."

Las Vegas was had became a graveyard for my memories. A place for my thoughts to be stored as I awaited to return. Every time walking into one of those nights that would be continuously built as, 'the biggest night of my life!'

"... I won the TEW Continental Championship here! It was in this town, THIS, very freakin' town that my destiny was created. I more-or-less finished George Cassidy off in this very town. In the MGM Grand!"

I needed a drink. Swiftly swinging open the mini-bar I removed a special bottle of vodka I had requested to be kept in the room. Vodka. One of the few alcoholic drinks which left no scent in your breath afterwards. I placed the cap to my lips and let the transparent beverage flow into my mouth. I took it away and forced myself to down it.

"Whoooo." I satisfyingly exclaimed. The buzz had kicked in. My breaths returned to deep inhales. I could sense the feeling in the room. "And once again Steph, where do I find myself on the eve of a big fight, huh? None other than Las Vegas, Nevada. SURVIVE... And Conquer! Forty men enter... One man exits with... Bragging rights."

I returned my attention out the window. I could see the crowd coming together, congregating around the Arlington Hall & Casino. I was due to make an appearance to make a type of press release on the current match.

"What about... That night, in Vegas?" Stephanie's sweet voice enquired. Her voice made me melt. Her soft skin made me feel like I loved her, but I felt a lot of things and love for her right now in the present isn't one of them.

"Yeah... That was an eventful night I guess..."

At that moment, I smashed the bottle held between my fingers against the wall of the suite, starting Stephanie into a frightened state as I turned back towards her, ignoring the glass fragments on the floor and the alcoholic stain that dripped down the cream painted wall.

I remembered my last night and morning in Vegas after defeating George Cassidy all so well.

I awoke to the feeling of warm spit hanging from my cheek as I muttered incoherent gibberish, lifting my head from the pillow case, the drool plastering a large spot as I wiped it from my mouth with my hand, before letting my head crash again to the softness of the fabric. I rolled over onto my back and looked, as much as I could up at the ceiling.


"Jason... Stop!" Stephanie demanded. She had backed into a corner of the room, looking frightened. I would have assumed she knew it was all an act.

"You know how I've been acting lately? I mean, I'm the guy who has said for soooooo long that I hate, hardcore wrestling. I hate hardcore wrestlers. Hardcore wrestling sucks, you know. Stunt men who were too ugly to get a job in Hollywood. So, in response they sought out professional wrestling. Because the fans who have no clue, about anything we do, have no problem cheering for blood."

The cracking sound of broken shards of glass under my fight make her uneasy. I listen to it, it's seductive to my ears as I take two steps forward. Slamming my foot down, listening to the shards turn to dust beneath my feet.

"Lately though, I'm persuading myself that maybe a little bit of violence never hurt anybody. Except the person whose feeling the wrath of said violence."

The night before, the ultraviolet stage lights construed my eyes; they were still a bit fuzzy but for the most part I could see! I was left to look at her well formed, clean feet with pink nail polish and glitter dressing her ankles, as high heels enclosed her soles, as I began to move my eyes steadily up her body. She had nice long legs, she was wearing a pink frilly skirt that exposed a part of her matching pink knickers, a black corset wrapped around her chest with a black stylish leather jacket over it and a necklace of a star draped graciously from her neck.

Stephanie gorgeous blue eyes were left fixated upon my far-away concentrative gaze. My conscience now left dissatisfied. The feeling which had crept into his body, and had rushed through his veins once before, of pure, raw, unadulterated confidence which left no man immune to the power had became existent once more.

"It's Survive OR Conquer. Not Survive and Conquer in my books sweetheart. Because, you have to pick in the end. If you want to conquer, the toll it will take on, for example me; my body, will probably make it so that I'll have to shit in a bag and carry it around the rest of my natural born life! Or, you can survive... And be a failure. That's the meaning of this match... to me."

Stephanie nodded as Jason backed away from her, and ominously smiled. Licking his lips, of the dried residue of the vodka. Tilting his head back, and taking in the air.

"I smell... Brilliance. Haha."

Once I saw her face; it was the most stunning girl I had ever seen. Her whole body was perfect, and she had the face of what can only be compared as an angel to match. Her black locks adorned over her shoulders and a sprinkle of glitter on her cheeks that shun bright when light connected with her face.


It was time.

I began to make my way towards the venue for this evenings conference. A private conference to endorse the match is what Action Packed Wrestling needs. A roster full of stoners and "Dude Where's My Car?" enthusiasts can only get you so far before the guys coming in for the one night stand in Action Packed Wrestling have to do it all. I felt the the anguish and excitement around the spectators, who had waited for hours to catch a glimpse of just about anyone. Strolling down the aisle way into the hotel, the flashing cameras went off a dozen at a time. A hoard of security guards guided me past the crowds of fans and into the backroom without much fuss.

And here we were. The conference hall was a rustle of pretentious activity. Leaning heavily against the wall just out of sight of those in attendance, I fumbled with a bottle cap in my hands as the rows of reporters asked the person ahead of me questions and heard press releases from those in attendance.

A night that was filled with memories, I couldn't help but think about how far I had came. Once again, in Vegas, right in the midst of the glitz and glimmer. I knew once again that there was a reason I had been brought in, almost solely for this one occasion.

How it had all began was so different.

The day I began training, the butterflies in which floated in my stomach. The acid receiving a reaction from my inner stomach lining as it began to bubble in nerves. I remember that because of those nerves how, I kept screwing up and botching moves. I recall fucking up an arm drag, nearly pulling Steve Mean, my training partners shoulder from its socket. My trainer at the time Don Harrison grew tired of me, and slapped me across the face. He kept trying to get a reaction of anger from me, pushing me, poking me, prodding me before head butting me right on bridge of the nose. The blood poured out of my nose. Forming a miniature pool of blood on the blue safety mat below. I can remember bringing my left hand to the tip of nose, resting it for a few seconds and then pulling it away and looking at it. The blood smeared my hand, and in the palm formed a minuscule pool of blood as blood stained my t-shirt.

The keynote speaker was a bore. He wore the strangest of suits. He showed nothing but teeth when he smiled. He was an oddity.

I knew it was my time.

"Jason." I looked over my shoulder at Stephanie. Her emerald dress shone so gloriously. Even after what had transpired before, she knew what I really thought of her. My determination was just too powerful. It consumed me. Good luck.

Faintly, she kissed me on the cheek. All before I planted a kiss on her lips. Without hesitance she accepted and for a moment we stood locked in an affectionate love, before we broke away. I smiled and touched her nose with mine.

Vaguely do I remember walking into the bathroom and punching the door shut, hitting it again twice while it was shut for good measure, trying to let the anger within out. Walking up to the bathroom sink, leaning against it with my hands, looking down at the sink hole as a thick layer of fungi formed around the rim, before slowly moving my head upwards, and looking into the cracked, condensation covered mirror. I wiped the mirror with my hand and looked at myself . . .

"And now ladies and gentlemen please let me welcome, he's a participant in the Survive and Conquer match tomorrow night, representing Pure Class Wrestling, Jason Scene!"

Taking the cue, I stepped out, through the blackened curtain and revealed myself. Despite the myriad of distractions which could have followed me, my one goal was set in my mind, make it known I'm here to take Survive and Conquer.

Suddenly I was in the media's eye, a hundred cameras flashing, and everything was different.

My eyes were bloodshot. My face was reddened in embarrassment and humiliation and the blood began to turn even darker above my lip, as it dried up. Forming almost a crust like looking texture on my face. My eyes began to get watery, but the thing was... The butterflies were gone. It was if in my blood was the nerves that infested my body that day as I began my career, which had in just under a year a very eventful trip.

I took my position at the microphone stand. I placed my lips to it, and all I could do is smile. I knew how I was going to start this interview, but only after Survive and Conquer would we know what I said upon that podium. But, to begin, I said that line the same way Johnny Cash said it years ago except, I made the obvious adjustment.

"Hello... I'm Jason Scene."

[President Jeff]

The deadline for the Survive and Conquer match is now. A huge thanks to everyone who RPed for this event. A lot of great RP's posted. We promise to make this event something special.

Results will be posted Sunday night.