SURVIVE AND CONQUER RP THREAD

[Smash INC]

Homecoming

60 Seconds With... Keaton Saint

British Wrestler Keaton Saint, 29, is seen as one of England's most famous sporting exports. Having made his professional debut in 2008, Saint solidified himself as an international star by signing to Action Packed Wrestling in early 2012. Saint currently competes on the Asylum brand which is touring the UK along with Overdrive before Survive & Conquer this Sunday.

This tour marks your homecoming as an internationally-acclaimed wrestler, how is it going along?

It's been a lot more fun than I expected, although I can't consider it a true homecoming until I've arrived in London. The Asylum show from Blackpool just happened however and that was a really special moment for me.

You lost to Shane Borderland at that event, has it affected your preparations for Survive & Conquer?

It certainly brought home the fact that it only takes a moment for a match to be lost, but I know that Survive & Conquer is the biggest match of the year and mentally I have been preparing myself for what's to come.

How about your physical training?

Physically, I am in the best condition I have ever been going into the Survive & Conquer match. That's thanks to a rigorous training regime and my recent move to Asylum, among other things. I won't lie, I've been preparing myself for the Survive & Conquer match this year ever since I was eliminated from the last one.

But it's not the only reason you moved to Asylum?

Of course not. As important as Survive & Conquer is, you have to remember that it is only one night in the year. My move to Asylum wasn't a temporary one, I am going to be there after Survive & Conquer and for the foreseeable future. Asylum tends to be seen as the 'B-show' due to the bi-weekly events, but I've always known that the brand houses some of the best wrestlers I've ever seen and I wanted to compete against them to see how I would match up. When you look at some of the talent on Asylum you realise that they could dominate smaller promotions, but they're here to compete with and beat the best. I feel the same way.

Any names that spring to mind when you mention Asylum talent?

Sally (Talfourd) would be the first, we've got history stretching back a couple of years and I know that she's never one to underestimate. TJ has massive potential and from working with him in the Pillars I honestly believe he's got all the tools to become a hall of famer. Phil Atken is someone I don't see eye to eye with but he's the best on Asylum right now and not just because he's the (World Heavyweight) champion. Atken is someone who nobody expected to make it big and he's gone and surpassed every one of them. Asylum isn't just limited to those names though, everyone involved is so talented and there are no underdogs.

Survive & Conquer 2012 marks your third straight entry into the match – what has changed between your past entries and now?

A surprising amount actually. 2011 and 2012 were both distinctly different in how I performed and how I approached the match in general. However both times I was coming back from a sabbatical and I personally believe that had an affect on my chances. This year, I am both physically and mentally in the shape of a true wrestler. I'm prepared this year because I'm experienced, that gives me a crucial advantage over some of the entrants.

How does your entry number (#34 out of 100) affect your approach to the match?

I'll draw back to my past entries in the match. In 2011 I entered quite early (#7 out of 40) and lasted just short of an hour. In 2012 I had the luck of the draw (#84 out of 86) and I was unable to take advantage of that, which has been on my mind ever since. With 100 people this year I was fully aware that I would have to take on a marathon of a match. I have some empathy for the late entrants this year because some of them won't last and it will play on their mind constantly just like it did for me. As far as my approach goes, I'm going to keep my feet on the ground as often as I can because if I can't get thrown over the top rope then I'm still in with a very good chance. The longer my feet stay on the ground, the more chance that brings the victory. It's a cliche to say it but on Sunday I have to survive and conquer.

APW Survive & Conquer is live on Sky Box Office this Sunday.

==========

The War Room

"How is it?" Keaton Saint asked, interested to hear the opinion his long-time friend and advisor John Gainsborough.

"They say it takes sixty seconds to read this?" John Gainsborough had folded his Metro newspaper to the page containing Keaton's interview before placing it to his side. A small but telling smile emerged on John's face as he turned to face his friend, the man who would soon have to walk into the most important match of his career.

"That's how they market it, but you've been there for at least six minutes now."

"I know." John tapped his cheek. "I can't see anything immediate, maybe your words about Atken but nothing exploitable."

"That's the good thing about short interviews." Keaton smirked. "I don't have to say much."

"I agree, although you should've spoken to The Sun."

"Nobody literate reads The Sun, they're too busy ogling the Page 3 Girl."

"OH! You just reminded me of something." John pulled out the Thursday edition of The Sun newspaper before thrusting it in Keaton's face. "Look at it."

"Now's really not the time for ti--" Keaton stopped himself as he turned to the infamous page in question. Instead of Holly, 19, from Swansea there was something more revealing than the lack of sizable breasts. It was a bikini-clad female wrestler in a photo clearly shot by some roving paparazzi. The blurb underneath the photo told a story, but not without using fifteen adjectives for the word 'hot.'

"She's in the match too."

"See!" Keaton snapped his fingers as he put away the newspaper. "I told you they'd be the wrong people to speak to."

"I--" John sighed. "You may be right."

"Of course, just because the majority of the Survive & Conquer guys aren't from this country doesn't mean they won't know someone who can tell them that The Sun is complete fluff."

"So that's why you chose Metro?"

"Yeah. At least this way they should try to read for deeper meaning."

"That's a good strategy, you've been learning."

"I have to, Survive & Conquer doesn't start when the bell rings." Keaton glanced at the Metro newspaper. "It started weeks ago and I have to fight a smart war in order to win."

"But you still have to consider what happens when the bell does ring."

"That's why you're here."

"Yeah." John nodded. "Y'know, if you do win--"

"--I'll sort you out with half." Keaton interrupted.

"Nah, I don't want your winnings, I want you to invest it in something. Build a real pillar in the community." John rubbed his chin. "Ryan Ruckus won in 2011 and I found out recently what he spent his money on. I'll tell you something for free, it was absolutely shameful."

"Hookers and blow?" Keaton mused.

"You're not far off."

"Wow."

"I know." John shook his head. "What I'm saying is you have a chance here to do something good, something lasting. As long as you get what I'm saying."

"Of course, I'm not in this for the money anyhow."

"Bull." John's eyeballs practically rolled out of his skull.

"Seriously, have you even SEEN my contracts?" Keaton smiled. "I could quit tomorrow and be set for years."

"But I HAVE seen it."

"Yeah, the APW megastar one."

"You can't be earning as much as you're saying."

"You haven't seen the other contracts." Keaton chuckled.

"Whatever, I'd have made you more money." John smirked.

"It's fine. I'm making enough to wrestle against the best people in the sport. I don't want to win Survive & Conquer for the money, I want to win it to say that I DID it."

"At last, that brings us to the table."

"Indeed." Keaton revealed a large canister before opening the lid and tipping out the contents onto the table. 100 discs, each approximately the size of a £2 coin poured out onto the table before Keaton unveiled a large chessboard and an even larger sheet of paper with the entry list of the Survive & Conquer match. "I didn't get a chance to add the replacements."

"That's fine. I get the numbered discs and the entry sheet, but a chessboard?"

"Symbolism, plus we need something square to represent the ring."

"Of course." John sighed.

"You should've seen what my other idea was."

"Let me guess. You were going to buy 100 dolls from a charity shop and number them regardless of looks."

"I--How did you know?"

"I was only joking!" John howled with laughter. "You weren't seriously going to?"

"I was."

"Oh my days!" John held onto his stomach as he continued to laugh.

"Oh come on, I got that idea from one of the video packages from last year! I nearly used cards instead."

"Well at least that would have made sense." John continued to suppress his laughter. "Okay, okay I'm ready."

"You're not laughing again?"

"Promise."

"Right then, we'll start with everyone who comes in before I do." Keaton began to sift through the discs to find specific numbers.

"I thought you'd want to look forward, to those who enter after you."

"They're only going to enter one at a time, when I come in there could be 10 or 20 guys waiting for me." Keaton picked up the disc marked #1, the representative for Nick Watson. "This match starts with APW but who knows how many of the guys will be in the ring by the time I get there."

"Even if they were, who knows if they wouldn't just gang up on you?" John flicked through some of the discs.

"Exactly." Keaton continued to sort through the discs as he contemplated what John said. "If I can figure out a plan of action then I'm not blindly going in there like some meathead. If I forge some favourable conditions then perhaps I'd get a degree of control in the match."

"You know any single one of these guys could eliminate you." John stated as he held up #6, the entry number for Brendan Harvey.

"And they could eliminate anyone else as well, this match is a war and I need to have the nuclear solution ready long before I get involved."

"Is that something Sally taught you?"

"No."

"I just wondered how much Sally knows about this."

"Heh." Keaton nodded in response. "I'd be disappointed if she didn't think I was doing my own preparation, but I don't think she knows of the scope I have here."

"Weren't you hanging around with her just before the draw?"

"Of course, we're still allies away from this match y'know." Keaton sighed. "I just think she's playing her own strategy and I'm trying to not let on that I know her gameplan."

"Which is?"

"Distraction, she doesn't want me to see her as a threat so when she eliminates me it would have been my own fault."

"That's quite something."

"She's smart, but we're not wrestling on her turf and that gives me the advantage." Keaton paused. "Speaking of which, this Guv'nor guy--"

"--Lenny?" John interjected.

"I think that was him, you don't think he's got any idea of what I'm doing?"

"Nah, I never told you did I?"

"Told me what?"

"I used to get information from a friend of a friend of his years back, I doubt he even knows me but I've had to use the same channels as him before." John rubbed his chin. "I've made sure to avoid letting them know I'm in town."

"How is he as a wrestler?"

"He's a double hard bastard from all accounts and he's not very nice about it." John paused. "If you intend to beat him you'll have to be a technician because he'll just force through you otherwise."

"Noted, if we can figure out a plan up to his entrance then I should be able to take him on as you've said."

"You're still asking a lot, you've been in Survive & Conquer twice now so you should know how chaotic it is."

"More reason to try and control it."

"I guess, let's set up the first set." John said as he laid out entrants #1 to #10 on the board. "I've got good info that tells me Whitmore and Gray are distinctly opposed to each other, so we'll put them in a corner."

"Hmm, assuming Biggs, Watson and Slade are in when I enter then there's an uneasy alliance with all three. I know Slade would want to eliminate me solo so he'd probably work to get rid of those who would interrupt him."

"Put Fairchild and Stryker in another corner. These two are almost certain to be the earliest alliance from what I can tell so if they're around when you get in they are a priority to split up and eliminate."

"How sure are you?" Keaton asked as he arranged the discs.

"Sure enough to tell you. So who else is left?"

"Jobs, Harvey and Spaz. Harvey's my priority of the three."

"Wait, what?" John asked with genuine confusion. "You're telling me that Brendan Harvey is your priority to throw out?"

"Nobody else will prioritise him so I have to, look at what happened with Knuckles last year. He stepped up his game so far that by the time anyone realised, he made the final four."

"Can't fault that logic, what about the other two?"

"I haven't got enough to go on with them so let's pop the next set in." Keaton placed the Brendan Harvey disc dead-centre before placing discs #11 to #20 to the side of the board. "First, Scott Savage is a priority lynch if only for his size."

"I saw the promotion pictures, he's built like a brick shi--"

"--I know that." Keaton interrupted. "Smith, Mania and Bailey especially would prove to be the most reliable allies if they're still in."

"Bailey will just be waiting on J-Hop."

"I enter long enough before Hopkins to bring an alliance to the table, chances are that'll get revisited once Hopkins comes in but it's there and it should work."

"What about Mania and Smith?"

"Mania would want me solo, just like Slade." Keaton mused. "Smith however knows how much I despise Terry Marvin so there's a possible team there."

"As for the rest?"

"Rex Evans might distract himself out of the match but I can't account for the others."

"Set number three coming right up." John nodded his head as he laid out discs #21 to #30 carefully at the side of the board. "Stall could oppose Savage."

"Stall probably has the advantage, I'm worried he'll clean house before I get in the ring."

"That's what alliances are for."

"Fair enough."

"I've got a sketchy report that Kidd would align with Fairchild and Stryker, especially if one of them is already out."

"Pair him up with them then." Keaton held up two discs. "Rebel and Serra have to be priority here, especially Rebel."

"Can you account for the rest here?"

"No, just put them in a pile for now." Keaton smiled. "There's just three others before I enter, Raab, Slater and Eric Donavan."

"Ah right, well I guess Raab is priori--"

"--No chance, he's put himself in a position where every APW guy will blindly try and throw him out without paying attention to anything else. I want to be sure that if anyone gets blindsided, it's him."

"What about the other two?"

"Possible alliance because of our closeness in geography, but that's based on the fans swaying them towards helping rather than hindering me."

"It's a big ask."

"Not as big as trying to last something like two hours in this match." Keaton pointed to the board. "But all of this is a start, it's something we can build on and it's something I can use to go further."

"It's not enough to say you want to win, Keaton."

"I know." Keaton paused. "I know every word of that more than you do, you helped me go far in this match two years ago. I wasted my chance last year because it wasn't enough to just say I wanted it." Keaton stood up, as if rising from limbo. "This year is a war I cannot afford to lose because I am running out of chances to prove who I am in this sport."

"Keat, you're practically a legend."

"But what have I done in the last year? You tell me."

"The Pillars, the constant title contention you've had and your CWC title reign." John smiled. "That's just the tip of the iceberg."

"So, an idea that came from someone else, a constant reminder that I'm not good enough and an inter-promotional title that never gets defended?" Keaton scoffed. "Face it, I've done nothing. How the hell can I call for wrestling to become better when I can't even match the current bloody standard?!"

"Keaton, you're letting the scope get to you. you always said faith and self-belief were powerful forces."

"I know that, but what if it isn't enough anymore?"

"Damn, I don't know."

"Neither do I John, neither do I." Keaton sighed. "Look, I have to go somewhere."

"Where?"

"You know where, that's why I'm going on my own."

==========

Give Me A Sign

London had experienced a varied degree of snowfall over the past week, but this was something that Keaton hadn't really thought much about until now. Travelling via coach from Blackpool had taken longer than the average journey, but it hadn't really hit Keaton that it had snowed as much as it did until he was faced by it. It was cold, although not especially so and yet the primary thought in Keaton's head was not of the weather but rather how ignorant he had been of it for so long. Now he was stood alone facing the grave of his father, it was so utterly apparent to him that he had been oblivious to what was obvious to others. It scared him because that ignorance tempted the thought that perhaps he lacked the intelligence necessary to be a championship wrestler.

Survive & Conquer would still be a war, but right now Keaton Saint felt as if he was fighting a war in his own head. The worst part of that scenario was that Keaton didn't know which side had the nuke.

"How long has it been?" Keaton knelt down to brush the remaining snow away from the gravestone.

"It's been years, definitely. It's not the ideal thing to admit to myself but it has been too long since I've come here. I put so much behind me to become a pro wrestler and being here turns everything I've experienced on its head. I can go out to a ring and feel larger than life but here I'm small, very small."

"Because I know in some way that becoming a wrestler was my escape, it still is. I'm just beginning to feel like all the stuff I left behind is catching up to me, wrestling gave me a purpose and I'm starting to lose sight of why I became a wrestler. I need something to tell me that becoming a wrestler was the right thing to do. Some sort of reassurance, affirmation maybe."

"I've got more money than I ever thought I'd have, I'm able to travel the world at my leisure. I have everything I could possibly want and it's not enough. Just being a wrestler isn't enough, I crave the success and I need it. It's not enough to say I want it but I really do, I'd throw everything else away to be able to grasp one moment, one guarantee to say for a fact that I am the absolute pinnacle of the sport. A Pillar holds something else up, I still want to break through the sky."

"I need to know I made the right decision." Keaton sighed. "I need to know I made the right choice."

"I just--" Keaton resigned himself to what he was about to say. "Give me a sign, please."

A seemingly infinite moment passed before a gust of wind broke the silence as if to answer Keaton's plea. He turned away from the gust and in doing so noticed a patch of grey among the white snow, some form of curiosity drew him closer towards it until he was kneeling directly in front of what had originally caught his attention. Keaton's jaw dropped when he saw what was facing him, it took a second look after a suitably large amount of blinking to realise that what he saw the first time was very true.

CON
QU
ER

34

"You have to be bloody kidding me." Keaton gasped, half-expecting someone to come up behind him and tell him that it was all a ruse. If it had been Terry Marvin then Keaton mused to himself that there would have been at least one less wrestler in Survive & Conquer, Marvin would've been in the emergency ward and Keaton would be stuck in prison at Her Majesty's pleasure. But there was no prank, there was nobody else to be found. Just Keaton and a gravestone apparently predicting his success in the most important match of his career. There had to be some sort of logical explanation to it.

Keaton made a decision to remove the remaining snow and in doing so he realised that he was right, at least in part. The stone itself was aged and had certainly been there for some time but there were artificial additions to it, additions that Keaton surmised were responsible for the snow not covering the crucial letters and numbers. The grave itself was very real, as Keaton removed the rest of the snow he read the source of what had been responsible for the supposed sign from above.

CONNOR
QUINN
STERLING

BORN 17/05/1894
DIED 26/09/1934

Survivor of the
Great War

The last line felt like a jab at the chin for Keaton, not only did the original message say 'Conquer' but now the full stone read about a survivor of the first World War. Keaton continued to stare at the grave, working out the riddle of it as best he could. He was positive that there was some artificial addition to the stone, he could feel them and yet that failed to answer the entire conundrum. A quick deduction forced Keaton to realise that it was impossible for the grave to utilise every possible number out of 100 at once, yet the grave still had his entrance number displayed before he removed the rest of the snow.

It wasn't coincidence or fate, this was the work of someone rather than something. There was a logical explanation but the core of what Keaton had asked for had been answered. He had just been given a sign. What that meant was that even now, someone believed enough in Keaton Saint to give him a sign to go on. Keaton wasn't one to put faith in fate, but there was just enough here for him to go with the flow and allow it to boost his own self-belief. He would be a survivor of the Great War of 2013 but he would do more than the long-departed Connor Sterling, Keaton Saint would indeed survive...

...But he would also conquer.

---

Word Count: 3993
Picture Count: 0

[Mark Mania]

“The following are a collection of stories that I have put together to address the ninety-nine other competitors in the Survive & Conquer match. While these stories are fictional, their message holds very true. I’ve been in the wrestling world for my entire life and this is the largest match that I have ever been in. Never in my life did I think that this sport would get one-hundred competitors in a single ring to compete for an ultimate prize. Winning the Survive & Conquer match this year could very well be the greatest accomplishment in all of sports. The Vince Lombardi Trophy, the Stanley Cup, these mean nothing in the awe that is inspired by winning Survive & Conquer. The first story is about a young man and woman both on an adventure to bring down a terrible monster. Enjoy.”

---

A long time ago, in the ancient year of 2010 there were two very attractive young people who were in a very similar situation. These two were beloved by their town and were respected by the town manager. Despite having so much in common, the two of them never spent much time together. They were aware of each other but had little interaction. As the man and woman established themselves in the town they constantly heard the rumors of a great beast that struck fear into all of the townspeople and ran amuck. No one could stop him despite valiant efforts from some top knights.

Sir Weatherlight challenged the monster and while success looked imminent, eventually, the beast took over. After that Sir Payne attempted to slay the mighty beast. While he attempted, he, like all others, failed. As the beasts’ power grew to its apex, the town was growing scared. They turned to their two beloved members and begged for them to destroy the beast. The two obliged, and along with the help of a few lesser townies the beast was slayed after locking him in a giant cage and defeating him with numbers.

Upon destruction of the beast, the woman received all the credit for defeating the beast. While the man and the less respected townies fell into the background. Eventually as the woman was being heaped with the praise, the man grew tired and left the city.

Almost a year ago, the man returned to the town to see that favor had fallen with the woman. He came back, hoping to destroy her himself, but realized he had no need. He went along, minding his own business, biding time until the woman tried to make a play again. To this day, when the man is walking down the street he can be heard vowing to take revenge on the woman. To this day, the man can be heard whispering…

“Sally Talfourd”

---

“Ah, what a wonderful story. How I miss the old days! Well, not the old days, but, like, a couple years ago. I miss that. Now remember, all of these stories are purely fictional and any likeness or namesake that is being used is purely coincidental, so don’t come batting down my door! This next story brings us back even before 2010 to a time when a wily old veteran vagrant encountered a young and hungry man who had ideas of grandeur.”

---

There was a time, long before any of you can remember that a great Knight ran across these lands. He had his trusty Excalibur and slayed down some of the great warriors in the world. He was highly respected and genuinely feared. One day, he disappeared. With no warning and without a trace. Many young men that looked up to the great Knight were left baffled by his disappearance. They continued to fight in different conquests always hoping that the Knight would return.

Years passed and one young warrior had begun to make a name for himself. He was being compared to the Knight himself. It wasn’t long after these comparisons that the Knight returned. Upset that his name was being sullied by the young warrior, he challenged him, and was victorious. The Knight, upon this victory decided to rebuild his empire. Within it, he included the young warrior who was now an Expert in his craft. The two of them worked closely together, but the warrior still resented the Knight for only returning to sorry his name. The warrior became flaky and incompliant. Shortly after, the warrior was the one to disappear.

A few years later, the warrior had gotten word that the Knight was passing on his kingdom. The Knight was going to ride off into the sunset, while he was still on the top of his game. Naturally the warrior returned to try and take his rightful spot as the heir to the throne. Only to find out, that a new young warrior, with a Scorpion on his shield was now at the helm. The Expert warrior was jealous of the shield wielding young man. The two squabbled back and forth for far too long until finally, the warrior knew that he would never be fully accepted back into the kingdom.

Now, in present time, the Expert warrior will meet the Expert Scorpion wielding man for the first time ever. While they will be surrounding with countless other opponents, you can be sure that the warrior will make sure to pay special attention to the man who goes by the name, Scorpio.

---

“Truly bone chilling! That Scorpio guy sounds like just the worst kind of person. But again, any likenesses to real people is purely coincidental!”

I make a cup around my ear to fake hear someone.

“What’s that, Scorpio is a real guy? Oh, well. Sometimes things fit better than expected. This next story is about two young men who competed with each other long ago but had made a truce that now looks to be broken!”

---

You all remember the story about the Knight, correct? Well, there was part of the story that you didn’t hear. At one point the Expert warrior actually faced off with the Knight and was victorious before the warrior disappeared. But this was not a one on one battle. No, they were joined by another man who also sought to be the top dog in the empire. He was young, arrogant, and highly skilled. He was well-liked despite his arrogance as he had a natural charisma around him.

During this time he was for all intents and purposes, the polar opposite of the Expert warrior. The only common goal they had was to destroy the Knight. While the three of them fought in somewhat of a street fight no one could tell how the fight would end. After what seems like hours of battling, the Expert warrior was the only to remain. The Knight has been defeated, and the young, skilled competitor was quieted. Shortly after this is when the Expert warrior disappeared. This angered the young man whose name meant a vast army. He was named this for his skill far surpassed that of one man.

While the Expert warrior disappeared, this man, this Legion, continued his ascent among the great fighters of the world. When the Expert warrior returned, Legion was very cautious in dealing with him. Many wondered what the Expert warriors intentions were. But he sought out Legion to apologize for his actions. The warrior knew that Legion was well-liked and well respected, and saw this as the first fence he should mend.

The two did not become fast friends, but they came to an agreement to at least be civil. Over the past few years their paths have not crossed. But now, in this giant battle of all the greatest warriors, the two men will meet. For the first time since they fought with the Knight, they’ll be in the same arena. This is a story that is to be continued, for we know not if the truce will be upheld…

---

“Wow, what a story, that sounds so, so, stimulating? Will these two old acquaintances ever meet in the ring…I mean the arena? If only there was some way that we could all tune in to find out exactly what was going to happen.”

I stare into the camera for a moment to raise the suspense.

“Well.” I break into a huge smile. “We come upon our final story of the night. This story is not of the days past. No, this story is very modern and focusing around two men who are forced to fight on the same team, but one isn’t really keeping up his end of the bargain.”

---

There is a well decorated and respected fighter in the world that has for his entire life always enjoyed a one on one challenge. Every now and then, this man is forced into a battle in which he must seek a partner. However, during these battles, he always gets roped in with a man who people believe to be much like him.

The fighter does not understand these comparisons and would rather take the challenge on alone. Especially now after that past two times that they have been teamed up together, he has been left out to dry and abandoned. There is a certain mindset that you can put yourself in if you know that you’re going to face multiple competitors. But, if then, at the last second you find out that you’ll be alone, it can throw you. Upon being thrown, you make a fool out of yourself. The well-respected fighter does not like to be made a fool of.

For the past few months the fighter has been biding his time, waiting to actually fight against this man that is so often paired with him. It has yet to happen in a one on one arena, but he has just discovered that he will be given the chance to at least see this man in a giant battle royal later this month. He’s been licking his chops all week, angrily pacing back and forth and every down and then exclaims, “That fucking Nick Watson.”

---

“Oh come on!” Rosa, my drop dead gorgeous and also lesbian assistant screams at me.

“What?” I say, looking at her innocently.

“You really want the people to believe that these stories are all purely fictional and any namesake is happenstance?”

I look at her shrugging my shoulders.

“Everyone knows damn well that you’re pissed off at Nick Watson.”

“As I should be!” I yell and point at her for emphasis. “That damn bastard sent me up the river again last week. I’m glad that I’ll finally have the chance to get a piece of him!”

“You don’t even know if he’ll still be in the match by the time you get there, he’s the first entrant.”

“That would be just like him wouldn’t it? Getting me all geared up to finally deliver a little payback and then he get eliminated before I even get there!”

“So, that last story, all fictional?”

“Okay, okay. The last one had some semblance of truth.”

“Just the last one?”

I look at her and offer an, ‘I don’t know’ type look.

“Mark…”

“Alright, all of them had some semblances of truth. They weren’t just stories for stories sake. Yes, I want to get a piece of Sally Talfourd. I haven’t been within a thousand feet of her since I returned to APW. When I came back I was looking forward to proving myself against her and I haven’t had the chance yet. I’m happy as hell that I finally will. And yes, I have some unfinished business with Scorpio and Legion. Nothing we need to get into.”

“I think everyone was filled in enough from your little story of ancient histories.”

“They weren’t that boring.”

“Whatever you need to tell yourself.”

“You’re such a great and respectful employee.”

Rosa takes a bow, “Why thank you!”

I raise an eyebrow at her.

“Don’t give me that look.”

“Alright, well you don’t like the stories, fine, but it got my point across. I like to tell stories of the old days sometimes.”

“Well good, hopefully you’ve bored your opponents into submission. But remember, you still need to throw them over the top rope.”

“Believe it or not, this isn’t my first battle royal.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

“So what’s your idea then, great goddess Rosa?”

“I like the sound of that. I’ll have you know, I have quite a few ideas!”

“And are you keeping them to yourself or would you like to share with the man who signs your paycheck?”

“Well, obviously you’re entering the match a lot earlier than you expected to, so, I think you need to focus on who your biggest challenges are.”

“Instead of focusing on the nobodies like Branden Harvey?”

“Right, because everyone else is going to be attacking the easy targets. They’ll think that the less people in the ring, the less people they have to deal with. But if they go by that knowledge, they’ll waste so much energy eliminating the Mac Bane’s of the world that when they’re stuck in the ring with Biggs and Terry Marvin they’re going to be child’s play.”

“That’s actually a pretty good idea. So I need to focus on the best of the best.”

“Exactly!”

“Alright then, who’s going to be in the match before me that could go on to win this thing?”

“Well, I think the biggest name that’s going to be in before you has got to be Biggs.”

“Oh definitely, there’s a chance he could win this whole thing. Here’s the thing with Biggs, I know he’s a hell of a competitor and I know that he’s had more success than anyone in the APW not named Level-One, but I have to think, there’s a chance the guy is getting a little old. I don’t mean like, crypt-keeper, but you saw him in the match against Terry Marvin, he gave everything he had, but just couldn’t pull away with the victory. It’s sad to say, but I don’t think he can win this. Especially being entered in so early. I might as well go right after him and try and end his dreams first thing. Anyone else before me?”

“Anthony Bailey?”

“Oh, the young gun! Yeah, I like that kid. Him and I had some words on the Twitter when I first came back.”

“The Twitter?”

“Yeah, he sent me a Twit.”

“A tweet.”

“Whatever it is. Yeah, he’s an arrogant little mother. He’s a bit of a fall from grace lately, eh? Goes from behind the World Champion to the Tag-team champion and now he’s got what? Nothing. This must be a big night for him. I’m sure he wants to prove that he hasn’t lost it. I’ll have to pay some special attention to him. Show him that arrogance doesn’t always pay off.”

“Oh yes, you’re the shining example of that.”

I look at her sternly but with a smirk, “Anyone else I need to target as soon as I get in?”

“Well, I’ve heard a lot of good things about Rex Evans from CRW.”

“Is that the guy that’s in jail?”

“One and only.”

“That’s an interesting situation he’s got himself in. The guy seems to be a little off his rocker. Doesn’t seem like he’s all the way there you know? I mean, I’m not going to be intimidated by the fact that he’s being escorted to the ring by police officers, the guy made a mistake and now he’s paying for it. If he was that much of a threat to the people around him, he wouldn’t be trounced out here like a circus elephant. I’ll keep an eye on him though.”

“I think that’s it for the guys before you, but you’re getting in early, there are a lot of people you need to be watching out for.”

“I know that a couple guys after me is Stall. He’s a hell of a wrestler. I’ve heard a lot of talk about him being a top five finish.”

“You don’t want to let that happen.”

“I feel like I’m biting off more than I can chew here basically calling out every top name in this thing.”

“You’re not going to have to take them all out individually, you just need to keep your eyes on them. If they look like they’re hurting, go and join in and get them out of that ring.”

“You’re right, you’re right. Let’s see, who are some other big names, Johnny Rebel?”

“Without a doubt!”

“But you have to think, he’s been out of the ring for a little while, running things behind the scenes, maybe he’s not in game shape.”

“I wouldn’t underestimate him if I were you.”

“You’re right, you’re right.” I continue to look down the list. “Oh, Keaton Saint. He might be a problem.”

“You’re thinking too small scale, you need the biggest of the big names. Keaton Saint has been in a downward spiral for months. Yes, he has some credibility, but does anyone really see him walking away victorious?”

“Well, who are you thinking of?”

“Maybe that Johnny Knuckles guy.”

“You talk about him like you’ve never heard of him. Isn’t he the ‘dark match’ champion of APW? Which accounts for basically champion of bull shit?”

“You know he loves this match. He could lose all year long and he wouldn’t give a shit if he did well in this match. There’s a different Johnny Knuckles that comes out for this.”

“I guess you’re right, but I just don’t see him to be that big of a threat.”

“Well, open your eyes then man! He’s going to stop it nothing to win this thing.”

“Alright, alright, Knuckles is on the list. Who else, CJ Gates?”

“Definitely CJ Gates. The guy is the number one contender for the Undisputed Title, what better way to show his dominance over Terry Marvin before RassleMania than to beat him in this.”

“Alright, him and I have some unfinished business, I can definitely do some damage there. Speaking of Terry Marvin though, looks like he’s next on the list here of people to worry about?”

“I have to wonder though, do you think there’s any chance he might have too much on his plate? I understand that he’s the Undisputed Champion and historically he’s done very well in this match, but isn’t there a chance, a sliver of a chance that he’s more focused on his own title than this match.”

“I could see that, there’s definitely a chance, but if I know him at all, he’s going to give it his all in this match, I can’t ignore that or not pay him the attention he’s due.”

“You’re right, you’re right. Let’s see here.” Rosa scans her list, “Domingo Cruz, Jerry McClean, Christian Kane, Vannah White… all real strong competitors.”

“But are they winners?”

“Vannah won the Queen of Sin.”

“Ok, so we watch out for that vowel charging bitch. That’s fine with me. Oh, another bitch, Sally Talfourd, I guess we talked about her enough already.”

“Don’t get too obsessed with any type of vindication though, you need to play it cool and be patient. If the time is right, get her out, if not, don’t do any damage to yourself.”

“Oh shit.”

“What?”

“Someone I forgot about.”

Rosa furiously checks up and down the list.

“Black Death.”

“Who’s that?”

“Oh, BD and I go way back. We used to be in a federation together run by a wild guy named G-Man. BD was one of the best in the business back then and I wasn’t quite up for the challen-“

“Snooooooorrrreeee.” Rosa makes a loud snoring noise.

“Come on!”

“Is he a threat now? That’s all I’m worried about.”

“I think he still is. If he fights to his full potential, he’s a mammoth of a man. I wouldn’t be surprised if he turns some heads this year.”

“So keep your eye on him, but don’t start getting nostalgic and try to recapture your youth.”

“I won’t! But damn, him and I haven’t been in a ring together in a long, long ti-“

“Okay! Last but not least, Adrien Specter, one of the top dogs in the wrestling world today and he’s coming in incredibly late at 97. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s at the top of a lot of peoples list for winning this thing.”

“Well, at least we won’t have to worry about him spouting off from his mouth during the match, right?”

Rosa looks at me with an odd look.

“He doesn’t have a tongue.”

“I know he doesn’t have a tongue. I’m just wondering if you can even help yourself from making those stupid jokes?”

I look down in fake embarrassment, “No, no I can’t.”

“You need to take this seriously!”

“I am, I am. I’m as concerned about Specter as anyone else. By the time he gets to the ring I’m sure that I’ll be tired as hell and hopefully someone else will worry about Specter. If it comes down to the two of us, great, I’ll make him wish he had a tongue so he could beg for mercy. But it’s unrealistic to worry about someone coming into the match that late, there will be seventy-eight people coming into the ring between me and Specter, I’ll probably never even see him.”

“Why? Because this bullshit attitude is going to get you eliminated?”

“No! Because by the time he gets to the ring I’ll be seeing red and just trying to do anything possible to pull off a victory, I’m going to have a long as hell night ahead of me.”

“Are you ready for it?”

“Well, let’s see, I’ve already prepared for Buckson Gooch to make sure that I’m keeping my Overdrive title. I’ve listed every major threat to me in this match and broken down how I think I can defeat them. Yes, I think I’m ready. I love giant matches like this. The more people involved the better. I could sit down and address each and every one of them by name and explain how and why I could defeat them. Obviously I don’t have the time to do that, but when I get into a match like this, I get excited.”

“I’ve been in battle royals, elimination chambers, championship scrambles, you name it, I’ve done it. I’ve always had success in matches like these too. Am I saying that I’m going to walk into Survive & Conquer for the first time and defeat ninety-nine other wrestlers? I really don’t know. This is the biggest match any of us have ever been in, nobody knows exactly what’s going to happen. But I do know this, I’m going to give it everything I’ve got. I’m going to fight tooth and nail and I going to take care of a few loose ends in the process.”

“This isn’t a coming out match for me or anything, everyone in the wrestling world knows who I am. I have a reputation to live up to and that’s what this match will be about. I think I have a good chance of winning it, but I know a lot of people live and die by this match. I’m excited about the opportunity to be in it and what success in this match could mean. I’m excited to know that at the end of the night I could have my Overdrive title and be known at the Survive & Conquer winner. But I don’t rely on it. If it doesn’t happen, I’ll wake up Monday morning, knowing that I am still on top of my game and that I’ll just battle even harder next time. It’s that type of mindset that will bring me far in this match. While everyone else reeks of desperation, I hold one quality above them all, resilience.”

[mistywhitmore]

Off Camera
Toronto, Ontario Canada.

Misty lets out a long sigh as she sits in the bathtub, legs hanging out over the edge. She was fully clothed in black pants, and matching long sleeve shirt, cute white collar hugging her neck gently. No water was in the bathtub of course. Misty did this often, anytime she needed to think the teenager always found herself most comfortable sitting in a bathtub. Ever since she was little Misty did this, nobody quite understood why. Neither did she, and she didn’t care to be honest. All Misty knew was it worked.

Her phone buzzed for what had to be close to the twentieth time since she went to think. Same number too. It was her big sister Nicole. And she knew why Nic was calling....she just learned about Survive on Conquer the other day. Probably just realized her eighteen year old baby sister had signed up too.

Finally Misty chose to answer, maybe it was she gathered the courage to talk to Nicole...or she was just annoyed. Either way there was no turning back now. “Hey Nic, what’s up?”

“What’s up?? You have a match against Jodie Gray, one YOU personally asked for. And it’s not twenty four hours before some big, crazy one hundred person battle royal?! Misty do you have-”

Nicole was cut off as it was Misty’s turn to shout.

“YES I DO!! Yes I know I’m going to be exhausted, yes I know I’m going to be sore as hell, and YES...I know how many people are in this match. Do you think all this training, all my studies and all I’ve learned from Mr Dallins, Ms Nikolayev, and so many others means nothing?!”

There is silence on the other end for a moment. Misty’s head rolls back, resting on the edge of the tub with a long sigh.

“I’m just worried about you Mis. Jodie’s not goign to be pulling any punches, even if she’s obsessed with you for some reason. And then Survive and Conquer. I’ve seen the names listed on here, granted I know less than half of them...but still. Some of these people have over TEN YEARS experience....I just don’t want to see you get hurt Mis.” Nicole said softly.

“I know.” Misty replied, her voice soft as well. The teen got up out of the tub and proceeded to slowly make her way out of the bathroom, phone to her ear.

“But Nic, if I don’t do this I will always wonder ‘what if’. What if I did, how far would I go. Would I meet Jodie, hell would I be the one to knock her out of the ring? Mr Specter and so many others believe in me...I have to give this a try.” continued the teen as she walked down the hall and around the corner to her apartment door. She simply picked up her coat and slipped it on before heading out the door, and down the hall of the apartment complex.

“Oh god you’ve got that ‘I’m doing this so shut up’ voice going.” laughed Nicole on the other end. “Alright, fine. Just no complaining about being sore and tired, remember you’re the crazy girl who thought this was a good idea.” added the older sibling.

Misty chuckled as she walked to the door at the end of the hall. Then teen casually opened it into the stairwell, making her way up a few flights. “You know I won’t. And I understand your concern, but don’t worry...this is gonna be fun.”

“Love you Mis, just be careful.” sighed Nicole with a soft chuckle. “Love you too, Nic.” said Misty before hanging up, a devilish grin on her face as she opened the door to the roof.....

---

On Camera

Underdog
1. One that is expected to lose a contest or struggle, as in sports or politics.
2. One that is at a disadvantage.

We fade in to an aerial view of a city, snow lightly falling from the big fluffy clouds above the rooftops. In the distance there is the form a tall spike-like structure, partially obscured by the falling snow. It is the CN tower, and this is Toronto, Canada. The camera makes it way over the rooftops, finally stopping at one in particular. This one is special, there is a person on it. A young woman wearing a 3/4 length black coat, her short orange/blonde hair making her stick out like a flare launched in the dark. The camera finally comes down to her level, stopping at the rooftop as she smiles, hands in her coat pockets. This girl is none other than FFW’s resident underdog and fan favourite, Misty Whitmore.

With a smile the teen pulls a gloved hand from her pocket, holding it out for a snowflake or two to gently settle. They melt instantly as she clenches her hand into a fist.

“You ever get that feeling you’ve bitten off more than you can chew? That you’re a minnow who just dove into shark infested waters, or the child lost amongst the busy adults in the downtown mall during the holidays? Lost, no matter which way you turn or how careful you are it’s always a struggle? Welcome to my life.”

Misty laughs and walks towards the edge of the rooftop, gently resting her hands on the ledge before her as she looks out at the city. The teen looks back at the camera as it closes in on her side, smiling still.

“I’m eighteen and a wrestler. Not unheard exactly of. In fact I knew a few who started out wrestler earlier than that, one was barely a teenager to begin with. But here’s the thing...I’ve only trained for three or so months before qualifying for an FFW contract along with my best friend and tag partner Kate Steele. Our mentors praised our abilities, as did our peers...yet every match has been like climbing up a cliff face with our bare hands. My singles record even less impressive to say the least...and yet they still encourage me, still commend me for my skill.”

Misty turned to fully face the camera, running a gloved hand through her short hair. The teen’s expression softening as she spoke.

“So when I say I’m a bit intimidated going into Survive and Conquer now you understand why. I mean I knew what I was signing up for, don’t get me wrong. But this is one helluva contest...and the chances of me winning are slim at best. But is that going to stop me from going in there and ripping shit up? Hell no. As Mr Specter said, the goal for everyone is to be there at the end...my goal should be winning. Not just surviving but rather conquering.”

Misty scoops up some snow from the ledge, patting it and rolling it into a snowball. Then she looks over the edge, seeing nobody was around and simply let it fall. The ball falling and falling before hitting the cement below and practically exploding.

“Okay, so here’s the thing you need to know...I’m not easily scared. Intimidated sure, but scared?...nope. It gets me in trouble quite often to be honest...much like this situation I’m in right now."

Misty shrugs and giggles.

“A snowball’s chance as they’d say. Look...I’m entry five. FIVE...there are NINETY FIVE other combatants coming in after me and another FOUR already in the ring when I arrive most likely. I’m not a minnow in a pool of sharks...I’m a bleeding chunk of meat at feeding time.”

The teen looks back out over the ledge at the destroyed snowball and sighs, turning around and walking to the middle of the rooftop again.

“Now this is normally when I’d get yelled at for a lack of confidence and stuff...but that means you missed what I’m saying. I’m not doubting my abilities, I’m simply using logic. I have less than a year experience against NINETY NINE who have so much more, some multiple decades of experience.”

Her rather somber, almost timid expression turns to a downright impish grin.

“And just think how awesome it would be to take them out...the plucky little ‘hero’ making her fans proud."

Misty shrugged and walks a bit closer to the camera.

"So lets get to what I’m up against in detail shall we? I’m not going to talk about everyone I know...just some that peaked my interest really.

First and foremost is JODIE GRAY. The woman who’s been harassing, stalking, and watching me for god-knows how long. JODIE...to say I’m eager to get the chance, just a chance, to face you in that ring makes my body electric with excitement would be putting it lightly. You taunt me, try to get in my head...you humiliated me with your mandible claw, making me choke on my own blood. If I get you in that ring, you better be on your guard...because I’ve got a People’s Decree with your name on it. And considering you’re Number Ten, just means I need to wait a little while to see you. Looks like at very least...this “Hero” will get to face her “Villain” at some point.

Next is JOHN SLADE, Ms Nikolayev’s Executioner. Seemingly an honourable man from what I can tell, vicious and powerful in the ring as well. He, like everyone else from start to finish I am not taking lightly. MR SLADE'S a perfect example of what I am up against here, there are no women in FFW that even compare to his size, 6’9 and 302lbs! He is nearly two feet taller than me and almost three times as heavy. I’m not lifting this man over the top rope that’s for sure...then again, I’m not the only one in the ring...and momentum is a brilliant thing. But in this situation do I find myself nervous, worrisome? No...just even more excited. A new challenge, a new test.

Who else do we have? Aurora Jensen the DDT Master herself. I didn’t know much about this woman aside from a few things I heard, so I looked up. Ex-Gymnast just like me...and a great wrestler. Would be fucking epic to meet her at some point, I could surely learn a lot to be honest. And there is also Vannah White, winner of the 2012 Queen of Sin battle royal. Defeating many opponents including the 2011 Queen, and one of my mentors Sabra Nikolayev. If I see her I know for a FACT she’s not one to take lightly at all, she knows these matches well.

Alright...now two last big names.

ADRIEN SPECTER a man who’s offered to take me in as one of the first trainees in the Graveyard when it opens. A man who’s only met me a few times, seen me lose every singles match...yet still has such high expectations, such high hopes for me. And I’ll be damned if I’m going to let him down.

Finally, we have LYN DALLINS. MR DALLINS...my first and most influential mentor. Father figure...idol in some ways. An amazing and merciless competitor...I think the one thing that bothers me the most about this entire match isn’t the entry order, it isn’t that I’m facing some people who have been in the industry close to as long as I’ve been alive. But rather..."

She takes a moment to stop and take a breath, starting to become emotional over it, wiping a tear from her eyes. Misty exhales to try and regain her composure

"...it’s the fact that there is such a slim chance I’ll be able to share the ring with someone I look up to so much. This is the first time I’d ever be able to share the ring with you MR DALLINS...but if I do last up until you come in..."

Misty's smile widens almost to a devilish grin*

"...I think it would possibly make all these trials and all this pain worth every second."

The teen giggles and looks up at the sky, snow falling a bit more steadily.

"My boyfriend’s a big history buff. So when I first mentioned this to him he compared me to the 300 hundred Spartans. Y’know the ones in the battle of Thermopylae, here I stand against insurmountable odds. And just like those hunks in the movie, I do so smiling.

On January 27th, myself and ninety nine other superstars fight for the chance to be the lone survivor. To be the one who conquered not one, but three matches against opponents from Federations all over the globe. This is no tittle that can be taken away, to be lost...once won it’s yours forever. Now some may look at me going into this with a laugh, I mean...I’m freaking tiny. 5’1, 106lbs...I’m not exactly an intimidating force of nature.

Misty laughs, running a hand through her short hair once again.

But what I AM is 106lbs of concentrated, unwavering determination, passion, and love for this industry. So bring on your heroes, your villains and your monsters alike. I’m not backing down. To say I’m an underdog, possibly the BIGGEST underdog in this competition would not be far fetched to say the least. I may be called a prodigy by some, but this isn’t a one on one contest, this isn’t a ‘match’ in the traditional sense after all. And let’s be honest, I’ve been wrestling for a couple months while others here have been doing so longer than I’ve been alive. It’s daunting...and exciting.

I found myself looking back to some of the great underdogs of the past as I prepared for this, or at least as much as one can prepare for this kind of chaos. And as I read, I kept falling back on one particular group of underdogs...King Leonidas and his 300 Spartans.

Truly this match is much like Xerxes and his Persian army. There are challenges here I’ve never come across. The Persian army was made up of soldiers from parts of the globe the Greeks had never even heard of, with beasts and weapons, armour and fighting styles unfathomable by the Spartans. Yet despite this they did not falter, they did not back down. Yes in the end they fell, and at Survive and Conquer I have no illusions that the same fate may befall on me...but just like the noble 300 I am going to dig my heels in and give this match everything I am. So here I stand, up against insurmountable odds...and I may not win, but I’ll be damned if I’m not going to try my damndest to do so.

Underdog? Yeah I am, and I have one helluva bite.

She laughs as the camera fades out.

[C.J. Gates]

"To say that this year was quieter than years past would be an understatement.

"Around this time, APW is usually invaded by outsiders trying to asserts their dominance. Some test their hand in the ring against our best talent, while others just decide to show up and try and insert themselves into our business, unfairly attacking us when we're not looking.

"Two years ago that rang true when Level One walked out of his contract to become a free agent, leading a band of misfits in a battle against those of us that stood up for the APW banner. Last year there were numerous people trying to chip away at the mortar of APW.

"This year, however, everything seems to have come around so quietly.

"There were no loud proclamations, there were no bold statements made. Every time outsiders were seen, they were seen in packs of three, four, five, ten. No one stood out as one person who really wanted this victory. Even at the end of Overdrive, when bold statements were beginning to be made, they were overshadowed by the massive pack of people all looking to make a name for themselves.

"There was no Free Agency formed.

"There was no Galveston Island invasion.

"There was no Azrael Goeren.

"And maybe that's the point. Maybe this is a lesson for all of us, one that is supposed to teach us not to assume anything about anyone going into the match. We can't assume that things are going to go a certain way or be the same as a year before, just like we can't assume that certain individuals will be eliminated early on. That certain people don't have a chance in hell at winning.

"And I know all about that."

--------------------------------------------------------

APW Survive and Conquer
January 30, 2011

As Level One and Ryan Ruckus admire their handiwork, Sally Talfourd and C.J. Gates come up from behind, and before Ruckus can react, they flip Level One over the ropes! He tries to grab hold of the top rope, but he's too tall, as both feet hit the floor! Level One curses at the top of his breath and slams the apron in frustration while the fans cheer at the absolute top of their lungs!

Eliminated: Level One

[/center]

Chase: Oh my gosh! Level One has been eliminated! I thought he'd go all the way this year! I thought there was no chance he could lose!

Harvey: Well, we're down to our final four, where it now becomes a steel cage match. The last person to escape the cage gets eliminated!

As the steel cage lowers, Sally Talfourd, C.J. Gates, Terry Marvin and Ryan Ruckus all look one another down, and once the cage is in place, the bell rings to let them know to continue.

--------------------------------------------------------

"No one thought I had any business getting as far as I did. I entered in at number thirteen and lasted until the final four, after spending the prior six months toiling in the tag division. No one had me pegged to be anything but a popular addition to the match. No one had picked me to wind up in that steel cage. Sure, I wound up losing in that steel cage and going no farther than fourth, but I know that I still managed to open some eyes with my performance. I know that I was able to let everyone know that C.J. Gates was here to stay.

"That experience showed me two things. First, it proved the point that you can't assume anything ever. People assumed that I was going to get eliminated halfway through, but I stuck around, fighting with all that I had to stay alive. Even after fighting in a tag team title match earlier that night, I still managed to out perform thirty six other competitors.

"But it also showed me that Survive and Conquer is the kind of match that can go a long way to make someone's career. To turn things around for the better. It won't ruin anyone, or cripple someone's already budding career, but it certainly can help. After all, when I finished fourth, that was simply the beginning of the year, the tip of the iceberg in what would turn out to be a fantastic year for me. Survive and Conquer is one of those matches that you don't want to miss out on, because you never know what could happen.

"Just ask Johnny Knuckles."

--------------------------------------------------------

APW Survive and Conquer
January 29, 2012

Knuckles turns to see if Rebel on the outside. Knuckles turns and Sally runs and clotheslines Knuckles over the top rope and Knuckles flips 360 over the top rope and lands on his feet on the ground.

ELIMINATED: JOHNNY KNUCKLES

Harvey: There we have it, Final 4.

Sally walks back to the middle of the ring. And leans over to catch her breath as she’s been in this match for over an hour.

Chase: Wait, whats Knuckles doing getting back in the ring.

Knuckles gets into the ring, grabs Sally from behind and runs her to the ropes and throws her over.

ELIMINATED: SALLY TALFOURD

DING DING DING

Harvey: What’s going on, Johnny Knuckles was eliminated.

Chase: The referee’s are telling Sally he wasn’t.

Harvey: We need a replay.

A Replay is shown Knuckles eliminating Johnny Rebel, and then Sally clotheslines Knuckles. Knuckles flips over the top rope and his feet land on the back of Johnny Rebel.

Harvey: KNUCKLES FEET DIDN’T TOUCH THE GROUND!!!!

Chase: Johnny Knuckles in the final with Kurt Noble, Alioth Starre and Azrael Goeren.

The lights dim as the Steel Cage begins to lower around the ring. Each Wrestler are in a corner, watching the structure come down around them

Harvey: The Final four, inside a steel Cage. The only way to advance is to exit the cage by climbing out from over the top.

Chase: Johnny Knuckles is the most rested out of these four. Can he pull the biggest upset in APW History and win this match?

--------------------------------------------------------

"Sure, maybe he didn't rise to the occasion like I did in the year that followed, and maybe he didn't capture a World title, but he still turned himself around. He still managed to go from an walking joke to an actual threat, managing to find himself in title matches later on that year. And really, what more can someone ask for?

"A win, sure, but a lot can be said for someone that managed to outlast ninety-six other participants. It changed Knuckles' outlook. He became the Survivor. He built off of that to make a more prominent name for himself in APW. He possibly even made doubters into believers.

"But maybe it was just me and Johnny Chase that didn't think Knuckles had a chance. Maybe it's just me that still saw Knuckles as the DangerTainment fiend, and nothing more. Maybe I just never thought he could amount to anything inside of the ring. But he did. On that night, he did what I had done a year ago, and that was to throw caution to the win and prevail in the face of doubt. To go above and beyond the means laid out by everyone else to finish fourth in a star-studded match.

"Though this means nothing to most of you. After all, it happened in the past, and what's in the past is bound to go unrepeated since this match is so unpredictable. But there is something to take away from this, and that is to always be prepared. Whether or not you are is entirely up to you, but I know that I am going to make sure that I am ready for anything. Ready for Johnny Knuckles. Ready for Scorpio. Ready for James Stall, for Black Death, for Aurora Jensen. Ready for whatever is going to come my way.

"Because this year, I'm going all in. This year, I am going big because not only do I want to put on a show that the fans will remember, but I want to do all that I can to send ninety-nine others home empty handed."

--------------------------------------------------------

January 22, 2013
London, England

"What's all this?" Vincent James asks as he enters a make shift office in London, England. Five bald men in black suits can be seen hurrying around the room, each holding stacks of paper. At one end of the room stands a large cork board with nearly sixty photos and sheets of paper tacked to it. Sitting in front of this board in a black arm chair, staring at the papers is C.J. Gates. He seems deep in thought as James makes his way over and taps him on the shoulder. Gates doesn't look up.

"Care to explain the space monkeys?" James asks, looking back at the men who are still busy moving about.

"I'm getting myself ready for Survive and Conquer," Gates answers, still not taking his eyes off the board.

"This is a funny looking gym, if you ask me."

"Not all preparation comes in a gym," Gates fires back. "You need to learn a bit about your opponents. Get a feel for what they are going to do when they are backed into a corner. Look at what they pride themselves on, whether they are more at home swinging weapons, or using their raw power. I want to make sure that I am ready for everything."

"And everyone," James says as he steps forward and points to the photo in the top left of the board. "Really? Nick Watson? He's the first one in the match, and you don't get there until number fifty."

"There's a very good chance that Watson is still there when I enter. There's a good chance that any of the one hundred entrants will be there when I enter. I need to be ready for anything because there's no telling what's going to happen."

"I've got information on Kevin Dahlia!" one of the black suited men shouts, holding up a piece of paper.

"Like that," Gates says, still not looking away from the board.

"What?" James asks, confused. "A newcomer?"

"Not a newcomer," Gates answers. "A replacement. With a few days left, there's still a chance that people could replace others, that there could be people entered into the match that aren't yet entered. I need to make sure I'm ready."

"So what you're scouting every single professional wrestler?"

"Not quite, but I've got those five men making sure that if anyone is added to the match, I am ready for it and they are ready with information on the new participant."

"Sounds like a lot of work," James says.

"But it's necessary."

"Now, that I don't think I can agree with." James turns to look at the flurry of papers behind him, and watches one of the men rushing forward to tack up a picture and information sheet to the board. Papers for James Stall.

"You know my preparation," Gates says. "I've been meticulous about it since day one and when it comes to matches like this, I'm the same way. I did it back in 2011 when I finished fourth, and I did it last year when I finished seventh. I've had some good showings, and I'm not about to break what I've been doing because you don't see the merit in it."

"I just don't know if it's worth it to put so much time into this, when you could be in the gym making sure you're on top of your game."

Another man makes his way to the front, this time posting a photo of Aurora Jensen.

"Who says I'm not?" Gates says, finally looking over to James, getting up. "Who says that I'm just doing this? I didn't. I just said that this is what I'm doing right now." Gates walks to the board and picks up a piece of paper with the name Alex Anders on the top. "Alex Anders. You heard of him?"

James shakes his head. "Can't say that I have."

"Me neither. But by doing all of this, I will at least have an idea of what this Anders guy can do. Has he had success in the past? Is he a champion?"

"But how will that help you in a battle royal? It's not like a normal match."

"That's true," Gates admits. "But this at least gives me insight into what he's capable of. I can at least see that he has the heart of an underdog, that he is trying to do what's best for everyone. I can tell that he wouldn't let people back him into a corner without battling his way out of it, or trying to anyways. And with this match being what it is, Anders is going to have to do just that. If I'm in his path, I want to know that this kid is feisty."

"It still seems like a lot of unnecessary work," James says, not totally convinced.

"To you, maybe. I'm the one in the match, though, and I'm the one who has to be ready for each and every one of these men and women."

"But a third of them could be out before-"

"I need it!" Gates shouts, cutting James off. Gates pauses and takes a deep breath before scanning the board. "I need to make sure I know what kind of tricks Malcolm Drake is going to have up his sleeve. I need to be ready for whatever Ken Davison throws my way. If I didn't do this type of homework, I might never have known just how unstable Alone was. Are there any teams lying in wait in this match. Before now, I'd never heard of Gordon Fury, but now that I have, I can make sure I'm ready for him when he steps through those ropes."

"Their numbers are-"

"Irrelevant," Gates finishes. "It doesn't matter when they enter, what matters is if they are still around. Some might be, some will be, some won't be, but it's impossible to say who's going to fall into what category." Gates pauses and takes a deep, calming breath before taking a step back toward the chair he was sitting in.

"There's got to be more to this than just preparation though."

"I need," Gates begins before cutting himself off. "I want to make sure that I am ready. I want to be able to get the most out of myself. I want to prove to everyone that I am capable of winning this match."

"Prove yourself," James laughs. "You'd think by now people would know what they're getting with you, and you wouldn't have to keep proving yourself."

"You'd think," Gates chuckles, still scanning the board as a man brings another picture up. Dorling. "But to most of them, that's not the case."

"Like the Terry Marvins of the world?" James asks.

"Not just Terry, and not just people in APW. There are bound to be other men and women who look at me and rule me out automatically. People who look at my size, and laugh. Usually it's the ones who are stuck in this world where they are unstoppable and unbeatable. The sort of people I've spent the last year trying to get rid of, stepping right up to my door. They probably assume that I am just going to be the sort of guy to sacrifice myself for the benefit of others."

"But that's not you."

"Exactly," Gates affirms. "That's far from me. I fight, I compete, and I give it my all every moment that I am in that ring. No matter what kind of match it is, I've always given it my all and I've always proved myself. Going far and maybe even winning this match will do a lot to show people that not only am I the real deal, but that I am also back to my old self."

"Do you think they'll care?" James asks, motioning to the photos on the board.

"Some will, and some won't," Gates answers. "Just like some will be there when I enter, and some won't. That's the kind of thing we can't really pinpoint. We can assume, but we can't say for sure until we see it.

"And until then I am going to keep going over these notes. I am going to keep making sure I'm ready, mentally and physically." Gates takes a step toward the board. "I told myself I was going to study each and every participant, and that's what I am going to do. That's what I have to do."

"What if that takes your focus away?" James asks. "What if you are too spread out, mentally?"

Gates shakes his head. "It hasn't happened yet, and I don't foresee it happening. I've got a game plan, and I'm not going to wander off of it because of possibilities."

"You just want to win."

Gates smirks. "Ideally, yes, and this preparation is going to go along way to getting me there."

"It's going to take a lot of work to do that, you know." James offers. Gates simply nods.

"Work?" Gates asks, turning his head to look at James. "Effort?"

"Fighting against the odds?

"Overcoming adversity?

"Proving myself?" Gates chuckles. "I've been doing that my entire career."

--------------------------------------------------------

"Fourth and seventh.

"Those numbers hang in front of me, a reminder of how close I was able to come the past two years to winning Survive and Conquer. Maybe the numbers don't seem that close to some people, but when you look at the number of people that were involved each year, when you take into account how long I managed to last in those matches, those two finishes are nothing short of spectacular.

"Yet I still think I can do better. I know I can do better. I know that I have what it takes to make it to the final two. Hell, I could even win it, that's how confident I am in my own abilities when I step inside of that ring. It doesn't hold much water, however, since I'm sure there are ninety-nine other participants that can and will say the same things about themselves.

"So what sets me apart?

"My Speed. There's no doubting that I enjoy a fast paced style, which should come in handy given the way this match is going to go down. I'm going to have to always be on alert, always making sure I'm moving, ready for the next assault, making sure that no one is going to catch me off guard. Moving from one opponent to the other, eliminating some here, taking some out there. There are others signed up who enjoy the same style that I do, but to those people I ask one question. Do they have the experience? Are they used to always looking over their shoulder, waiting for that weapon, that knife to be plunged into their back?

"Because I have.

"There is also my tenacity. The fact that I don't give up easily, the fact that no matter how many times someone knocks me down, I get right back up to fight another day. It works well for a match like this, since everyone and their uncle is going to be gunning for everyone else, and if my resilience can allow me to stay in the match that much longer, I could end up that much closer to winning.

"Above all else, there is my experience. There are some people tossing their names into this war for the first time, people who might not be ready for what a match of this magnitude is going to shove down their throats. There are people who are hoping for the moon when, in reality, they don't even know what it's like on Terra firma. I've participated in this match the past two years. I've made strides each time I stepped into that ring. I made sure that people didn't forget the name C.J. Gates, but what's better for me, is that I've experienced what this sort of match is all about. I know what it takes to win.

"This won't be the kind of match that people are used to seeing. If someone thinks they can go into this thing the same way they go into a title match or a tag team altercation, they would be dead wrong. This is an entirely different enigma, and one that will put each and every one of us to the test. Those that are ready for that test, like myself, are going to find it a bit easier to remain inside of that ring. Others, those who aren't ready, are going to find themselves looking up from the outside, wondering when their dreams came crashing down.

"Through my experience, I know that this match is going to be like something out of Fight Club.

"Minus the rules of silence, it's a moment to look forward to, something to keep your nails trimmed for. You'll be fighting one on one, but there will be a dozen or so others waiting to pick off the weakest person left standing. They will not relent, doing whatever they can to rid you from the competition.

"And there will definitely be no points for style.

"If there is one thing I have taken in from the past two years, it's that finesse doesn't really have a place in the match. It doesn't matter how well you can grapple, how technical you are, or how well you can hit a move, because at the end of the day, laying into your opponents with vicious strikes is what's going to end up getting you the upper hand. Weakening them with quick, efficient strikes in an effort to toss them out and over the top rope, to take one step closer to the top.

"And who knows. Maybe the way that I am in normal matches will give me a bump up in this competition. Maybe everyone will assume I'm going to rely on flying around the ring, jumping off the top rope, trying to use my high flying arsenal to ground my opponents. But what those people would fail to realize is that I have been improving my striking skills each and every year. I have been improving myself so that moments like this, moments when anything could and will happen, don't catch my off guard. That self improvement is going to help me get one step closer to achieving the goal that always seems to far away.

"The goal that I know I can accomplish.

"But I wouldn't just do it for myself. If I were to win this match, if I were to survive all the hell, I would be winning it for the fans, as well. For the people out there who still know who I am. The people out there that look to me in time of crisis. The people out there who constantly cheer my name."

"His name is C.J. Gates."

"People who know that I am going to do all that I can to protect, to defend, to keep APW from being overrun by people who minds are set on causing mayhem and destruction."

"His name is C.J. Gates."

"As I take those crucial steps toward attaining this goal, those fans will always be in my mind. As I try and repeat what I did in 2011 when I stunned the world, I will always hold the fans in my heart."

"His name is C.J. Gates."

"Even in defeat people will know my name, and they will still be cheering for me because I didn't give them the finger and I didn't turn my back on them. I fought for them."

"His name is C.J. Gates."

"I am the North Dakota Cowboy."

"His name is C.J. Gates."

"I am the White Knight."

"His name is C.J. Gates."

"My name is C.J. Gates.

"And it's time to go big or go home."

[Shadow]

The field is a brilliant green with an abundance of flowers. It’s almost like the field from the Sound of Music. The heavens are populated with several white fluffy clouds that slowly move across the brilliant blue sky above. It’s so beautiful. The fields stretch on for miles in every direction: an endless sea of green grass. There is a small rise in the middle of this field, a small hill. Shadow stands on that hilltop looking out across the world. A gentle breeze blows his hair behind him. It is all in slow motion. Realizing this, Shadow turns and looks around. He knows where he is. It’s all open country as far as the eye can see. Shadow should be at peace here, but he’s not. He looks down at the firm, almost concrete, ground. Pebbles and dead foliage are hidden, buried beneath the blades of grass. A dark dead world lost under the beautiful lie. Those pebbles, those tiny white stones begin to shake. No it’s the ground that trembles. A tremor is coursing through the earth. Shadow’s eyes glace up and he sees that the horizon is surging toward him.

There is not just one, nor is there simply one hundred. It is more like a million, one million bodies spawning just beyond the rim and that mob of bodies are swarming in his direction. Shadow slow-whips his head from right to left. They are everywhere and closing fast. Shadow draws his fist’s back and readies for the war. The battle begins, Shadow starts swinging. There is a loud blaring sound as he connects with his first punch. The faces are all people he knows. Shadow doesn’t hold back. He sees several former Megastars that he’s battled before. The beeping sound is screaming in his ears. It’s so distracting. Someone leaps on Shadow’s back. He throws the prick off. They begin to pile on Shadow. He tries to pull a Hercules and power out but the masses are too much. The world is reeling from the constant siren that pierces the air. Shadow is being buried, he can’t pull himself up!

Shadow’s fist raises above the covers and slams down on his alarm clock. The beeping doesn’t stop. So Shadow smashes the plastic box again. Still nothing. Shadow grabs the time piece and hurls it to the floor; it shatters to bits. Finally, he turns his head and looks toward the window. The morning is bright, too bright. It makes him not want to get up. He would much rather sleep. But it’s Saturday morning and Survive and Conquer is tomorrow night. There is too much to do between now and then. The alarm clock lets off one final dying beep.

“Alright!” Shadow rubs his eyes. “I’m up.”

He pushes himself off the comfortable mattress and brings his knees in, an odd way to get out of bed. Shadow swings his feet around and drops them to the warm carpet that lines his simple hotel room. It was a simple place for a simple man. This was how Shadow lived on his days off.

Although with dreams like that he never felt like he had a day off. It was a reoccurring dream; one he’d had it since childhood, only back then the attacking army was different; it all depended on what Shadow was into when the dream struck. Lately all he could think about was the seemingly unending surge of Megastars that would pour from the entryway at Survive and Conquer. Shadow was always up for a challenge but a Survival Match like this meant he had to be ready to show No Mercy, no restraint. People could get hurt, something Shadow excelled at doing to others; not through mistakes just through his raw unalterable power. To win this, he couldn’t hold back; something Shadow had found himself doing in recent weeks.

Still, the overall thought of losing Survive and Conquer was not what troubled him; it was not being able to make it to the final four. Getting that far was the hardest part. Shadow could dream big just like the others and plan to simply win the match, but he really needed to focus on Surviving. Conquering was second nature to the big man. After a moment Shadow cast off the heavy blanket and stood up. Now his bare ass was visible. He was pulling a King Leonidas. That or he didn’t remember going to bed naked. Shadow walked to the window to take in the wonderfully fresh morning air, after all it was good for him. Without thinking, Shadow drew open the curtains and gazed out into the crowd grey city called London. People on the streets below could see him through his second floor window. They pointed, women smiled, nuns screamed.

---

It’s a bleak Saturday twilight. The sun has just set and the fiery sky is turning dark. Each grave’s shadow stretched across the cemetery: Highgate Cemetery. Shadow strolls through the East Cemetery alone, walking past the tombs of history. Highgate is a world renowned cemetery known for its vast collection of notable residents. This is not why Shadow is here. Graveyards were like home to him. They were quiet, peaceful and above all beautiful. The perfect spot to seek tranquility; after all, what was more serene than eternal rest?

Although he hungered for peace, Shadow’s mind was racing. He couldn’t stop thinking about the Survive and Conquer match. It was weighing heavily on his mind, heavier than any match before. It was a match he’d never competed in before; he left APW right before the 2010 match. Back then there were fewer than forty participants. Now there were a hundred. Shadow’s odds of winning were better in the old days. However, the prize was greater this time.

“One...two...Shadow’s coming for you.” He whispered the little rhyme he used to taunt his prey.

The faintly lit lights barely illuminated the cemetery. Shadow could only smile. The thought of being alone amongst death was exhilarating. For some reason, normal people feared a graveyard at night. Perhaps it was the fear of joining the dead. An evening fog was beginning to roll in around Shadow’s ankles as he continued down the pebble path.

Shadow’s hands broke one of the many rules they had here as he let his fingertips drift across the next headstone he passed. At night beneath the dim glow of the lanterns, no one could see him. The course grainy feeling was a reminder that the moment of death was never calm, it was gritty. Ripping the soul from the body was like witnessing someone trying to peel the fabric from a rosebush wrapped in wet cotton. The fibers latched on and refused to let go. However, once the moment was over all that remained was something beautiful.

“So beautiful,” Shadow spoke his thoughts.

This graveyard was a place to escape the media and meditate on the task at hand.

“You know you’re not supposed to touch those.”

Shadow stopped walking; he smiled and raised his eyes.

“I was hoping you got my message.”

Shadow turned and standing there was “The Wild Child” herself, Dita Morgan. After a brief moment’s pause, Dita rushed to Shadow, leapt into the air, into his arms and embraced him tightly. There was no kiss just a long hug. APW’s former Megastar had been gone for a while, forced out because of medical issues. Although Dita was gone, she was always close to Shadow’s heart. Nothing made him happier than to see her now. Another moment passed and then Shadow put her down.

“I wouldn’t miss this for the world Shadow.”

“Good.”

They walked side by side along the path. The cemetery was getting ready to close; however, the fog and darkness led the staff away from the wandering pair. While they strolled, Shadow and Dita quickly caught up on recent events. They talked briefly about Slade. But Shadow real reason for wanting her there was because she knows him better than most. Dita knew what made him tick.

“I’m worried Dita.” Shadow said.

“Don’t be, if any deserves to win at Survive and Conquer, it’s you.”

“That’s not what I am worried about.”

“Is it Slade?”

Shadow shook his head.

“Then what?”

“Ever since I made the move back to Overdrive I haven’t been myself. Something’s felt off. It’s like I am searching for something a part of myself that’s lost. But I can’t figure out what.”

Dita stopped walking. Shadow paused and turned to her. “The Wild Child” approached him and laid her hand on his chest, just over his heart.

“Your heart still beats,” She told him. “Shadow this is all you need. It’s all you ever needed. Look at you, you’re the biggest man in this match, a powerhouse of total destruction and you are feeling conflicted about your performance?”

She chuckled as a gust blew out the nearest lantern making the cemetery grow a little darker. The fog was rising slowly; it’s at Dita’s knees. Her hand moved to caress Shadow’s face.

“You shouldn’t feel this way. Not when you have all this potential just stashed away waiting to be released. Unleash your full strength Shadow, you alone know what it’s capable of.”

“That’s why I’m worried.” Shadow admitted. “I don’t think I could forgive myself if I truly hurt another participant.”

“Oh?” Dita’s voice was sly. “What about Raab? Or maybe you’d want to hurt Biggs after everything he’s done in the past.”

“No, Biggs apologized.”

“Empty words Shadow.” She said to him. “Don’t let this,” her hand returned to his heart, “be betrayed by what your eyes see and your ears hear.”

Shadow didn’t know what to say. He started to walk away, taking extremely slow steps. The fog was so thick; it’s hard to move through. Something was wrong.

“Perhaps I’m picking the wrong person to incite your rage. Young Mannie, Michael Lively, no Johnny Rebel? No I know who you want to hurt. You want Slade.”

“Slade? I’m facing him at Rasslemania.”

“Oh Shadow,” Dita chuckled. “You think Slade is going to wait that long? You know what happened last time he was in one of these matches, you think for a moment he plans to do any different? You will see him in this match. And when you two cross paths, if you have even the slightest doubt he will eliminate you. Slade want’s nothing more than to bury you and your legacy. He fears it as enveloped him, it is smothering him. Snuff him out, Shadow.”

“He’s my friend.”

“Friendship is overrated.”

“Dita?”

Shadow turned back to Dita who lay atop a long headstone. The height of the fog had swollen to look as if she just floated on the mist.

“It’s your night Shadow,” Dita begins, “if you let it. The moment you refuse to claim it then you’ve lost.”

Her compelling voice echoed in both the air and his mind.

“Find your heart Shadow and follow it. It will guide you to the final four it will take you to victory. Show no mercy. Claim your birthright and lay waste to the roster like you did when you were on Meltdown.”

She sat up. Shadow stared down at the fog. He felt as if he was standing in the clouds looking down on the world. He could feel the air trying to suffocate him. Shadow refused to let it, he closed his eyes and tried to think.

“Shadow?”

His eyes snapped open. He looked at Dita. She just sat there on the headstone, her green eyes gazing into his. She blinked and Shadow’s stomach lurched. Now they were Pale Blue.

“Have you listened to a single word I’ve said?”

Again, Shadow woke up.

---

Let me be the first to officially welcome every participant to the Survive and Conquer death match! Why would I refer to it as such? All you know the rules, not a one of you would have entered this thing without full comprehension of the rules. That’s exactly why I cast my lot. Come on, put me in the ring with a plethora of people to pummel; yes please. I can’t believe my luck. Last week I got to throttle Level One, APW’s golden boy and his greedy new man servant Evan Envi. Next time, Lester: No Holds Barred- Got it?

This match got me thinking back to Albuquerque. Not many of you may remember; hell most of the people who were in that match aren’t around anymore. However, I am pleased because there is one person in this match who happened to be there with me in New Mexico, Young Mannie. Let’s start with you. You remember that big bad ass battle royal we went through? You remember me Spartan Kicking your ass from the inside of the ring out into the crowd? What a fun day that was.

So if any of you have had the time to scroll through the Meltdown Archives you’ll see my name pop up just about everywhere. More importantly you’ll realize there’s a bunch of names that don’t appear again after they’ve faced me. Yeah, I had it easy, running the rookie racket was just peaches and cream. And that’s exactly what I think about with all these new people showing up in APW to take part in our big over-the-top all out free for all. Which is why I welcomed you’ll. You’re in my world now, suckers.

Oh I can’t wait. I’ve been waiting for this match since they announced the venue. I’ve never taken part in a Survive and Conquer match before. I left APW right before they hosted their huge show a few years back. That was one of my only regrets. There is no question about the prestige that comes with winning the Survive and Conquer match and that is something I would very much like to have on my repertoire. Since my return at Rasslemania I have been the underdog, which is funny: because I am a huge freaking guy. Most people think of me as nothing more than a muscle bound oaf, I take offense to that. I’m a methodical, malicious man. Ya’ll are just sheep.

Alright, enough playing with my food. Mannie, I said I would talk about your first. So you finally came back? I didn’t even notice you were gone. Then again I didn’t care. Mannie we’ve had our battles, never really had a war with one another. I mean, every time you’ve tried to do get a leg up in this company I’ve been there to squash you dreams. Need a few examples? Albuquerque, the shot at the Xtreme title, do I need to keep going? Mannie, you should have stayed gone. If you happen to make it through thirty people and last until I enter the ring, know this. You won’t be in there much longer. No matter how great you become you can only reach the plateau, I will always surpass you. Survive and Conquer will be just like Meltdown this past Monday. Just a few measly seconds short, not quite good enough, nothing compared to me.

There are so many victims just waiting for my arrival: Logan Alexander, APW’s current North American Champion. You get to pull double duty, opening the show with your match against Christian Kane and the getting the longest break possible, number ninety eight. Lucky you. Numbers don’t mean a damn thing in this match, it’s the ability to remain in the ring. Sure when your number comes due you can try and rally the others and all try to lift me over the ropes, that’s really the only shot you’ll have and believe me you don’t want me to make it to the final four. You want to get rid me as soon as possible. Only problem is, I won’t allow it.

Someone want to tell me who Jake Youngblood is? Okay, now let me correct you, Jake Youngblood WAS a Meltdown Megastar. After Survive and Conquer I doubt we’ll be seeing him again. Look at the man’s track record. Beat Mr. Dangerous, lost his other two matches and now he thinks he will be Mr. Upset? I will give the kid that; he sure knows how to dream big. It’s time to wake up son. If I were still steamrolling through Meltdown I would have personally ejected your unworthy ass from APW a long time ago. Instead you’ve had the opportunity to embarrass yourself week in and week out. For making us waste our time on you, for taking a spot that could have gone to someone better, for just being a damn mouth breather Jake Youngblood, I am going back to basics and bouncing your bitch ass out of this business.

Now many of you may have noticed a pattern here. Aside from Mannie, I’m taking this thing backwards, well at least through the APW participants. Don’t you other kids worry, I’ll get to ya’ll. No why would I start at the bottom of the barrel. Start at the finish line, they are all people I plan to see. Everyone who comes out before me could be long gone, why worry about the insects that are picking one another apart before my arrival. I want fresh meat.

Speaking of a fresh kill, Donald Deruty. Kane killed your chances of getting a shot at the North American Championship and just like he did to Mannie. I’ll make it simple, I plan to repeat that action at Survive and Conquer. Look at Mannie, he is a Meltdown staple and never been able to best the beast. What makes you any better? So many of you Meltdown maggots think Survive and Conquer is your opportunity to shine in APW. While you’re right about it being AN opportunity, I happily am here to inform you that it is not YOUR opportunity.

I gave Logan his due; he’s a champion he’s got the best number a member of APW could get, if it mattered. Still I munched on Meltdown Megastars for months. Since going to Overdrive I’ve had the exhilaration of a challenge, something only Michael Lively gave me when I was on Meltdown.

But this next man I like. This next man I respect: Mac Bane! You magnificent bastard, where have you been? Your boy Buckson Gooch has been tearing it up in your absence, come on I want you to dish out some Southern Hospitality with me. For just one night I’ll let you call me a Son of the South. Hell I run the south! We can walk into London and show them why everything is bigger in Texas.

And who couldn’t respect this next icon? Ms. Sally Talford herself. Sally, I am a gentleman, I believe in treating a woman proper, sadly I can’t let you stand in my way at Survive and Conquer. Without a doubt you are a pillar of APW, if not the current cornerstone this company is built on. Times change dear. I’m back. I am here to reclaim my name and since nobody here still gives me a second thought the only sure fire way I can see myself doing that is by personally eliminating you. I’ll be gentle.

That’s everyone from APW that will enter the ring after I establish my dominance. I could list all the other APW Megastars that are participating in this match but it wouldn’t make any difference. I know all of you and you all should know me. APW is the wrestling federation, we are number one in ratings worldwide; we are the ones who host this grand inter-federation promotion and it’s only right that one of us should be victor. Well, up until a few days ago I knew everyone. Permit me if you would a moment to discuss the replacement: Kevin Dahlia. Kevin, I applaud your initiative, jumping on the chance to compete in Survive and Conquer. Your spunk reminds me of a former Meltdown Megastar from way back when: Cameron Wolves, a big flake who talked a huge game and pissed me off once. I’m going to beat your ass in his stead.

There is one other extremely important person I cannot neglect to mention in this match. This person has caused me a great deal of trouble in the recent past and is someone I would like to say I hold in high regard. Aubrey J Parker, what you thought I was going to talk about Slade? Fuck him. No Parker you have beaten me twice, you have pulled two of the greatest upsets for me this year.

I like you Aubrey, you’re full of spunk and I’m not being derogatory. You even beat my old tag partner this week, you are simply spectacular, nobody can deny that. However, Aubrey you are standing between me and my legacy. As much as I like you and respect you, I cannot allow you to pull off another upset. If you are still in the ring when my music plays I will do everything in my power to make sure I eliminate you first. Sorry Aubrey there can be only one winner at Survive and Conquer and I want it to be me.

It’s hard to believe that it’s been almost a year since I returned to APW. A year ago they were deliberating who would be inducted into the 2012 Hall of Fame and by a miracle my name was selected. When I came back I was so pleased but I quickly learned that this place is not what I left. APW has grown; it once was a lighthouse that called for wayward wrestlers. Now APW is the shining emerald city on the hilltop. Nothing could please me more than to call this place my home; nevertheless, I am troubled because since coming back I have felt unworthy to be in the Hall of Fame.

I find it odd to feel that way. Especially after the impressive streak I’ve run. But I now understand what will rectify this feeling. I’ve needed a purpose, I sought out Evan Envi and chased him but it has not led me to the self-dubbed MegaMegastar. Instead it has led me here to the Survive and Conquer match. This match was made for people like me, people who seek a brawl.

I make no claim that I am the future 2013 Survive and Conquer winner. I only promise to unleash hell this Sunday. I am the measuring stick of APW and everyone who is new to this match, everyone who is making their big return at Survive and Conquer and anybody in APW looking to make a name for themselves must eliminate me to do so. I vow to rack up an extremely high ejection rate. Anyone who wastes my time or pisses me; hell any poor bastard that breaks wind in my general direction, offending my delicate nostrils will know why I brag about my list of conquests in APW. If you want to win Survive and Conquer you have to go through me and believe me I am not going to make it easy. I want to win this, I yearn to win this. You will see what measures I shall take to ensure I succeed!

So know this; I will cause ungodly amounts of violence in this establishment. Anyone and everyone caught in the crossfire will suffer. The world will remember my name. The Usher has come, Darkness rises and at Survive and Conquer I will seek and destroy. Sunday a Shadow will fall on APW. It will not be holy, it will not be peaceful. You will get no rest. No holding back people. No mercy, no quarter just however many of you are left in the ring when I arrive, the lucky people who drew later numbers and me. Sunday I will seal my legacy in Action Packed Wrestling and all of you will know TRUE DARKNESS!

---

[T-Marv]

(OOC: First, this rp went a bit over the word limit, but Jeff okayed it. Second, if you've never seen How I met Your Mother or even heard of it (as parts of this are a bit of a parody) I hope this doesn't completely lose you. I tried to write it in a way it wouldn't. Enjoy.)

---

Showtime Productions Presents: How I Met Your Mother My Destiny

January 27, 2028 – Las Vegas Home of Terry Marvin

The moderate lighting in a simple suburban living room illuminate the faces of a teenage boy and girl sitting on some IKEA Knockoff Sofa. They seem to be staring into the camera disinterested. Suddenly a voice from behind the scenes speaks up.

Kids, I’m gonna tell you an incredible story: The story of how I met your mother.

The kids both look on in complete and utter horror as laughter comes from behind the camera.

Just Kidding. This is the story of how I won Survive and Conquer.

The kids groan and sigh looking nearly as mortified as before. The boy protests in a whiney manner.

“Are we being punished for something?”

Yes, for financially draining me and giving me a lifetime of regret for not pulling out just a second sooner.

The kid looks hurt but the girl, slightly older than the awkward boy, and looking like jailbait waiting to happen, leans back irritated but resigned to her fate.

”Is this going to take long?”

I suppose I could drag in on for about 8 years while the two of you inexplicably never actually age, all while never actually getting to the real point of the story while getting sidetracked and going off on a completely unrelated tangent that I claim has some baring on the overall story though I provide no evidence to support said claim.

The voice pauses for a second as the boy and girl look physically nauseous.

But I won’t. What I will promise however, is a profound and detailed telling of the happiest time in my life….

----------

Images of the past year in the life of Terry Marvin flash by highlighting everything that has gone so amazingly for him. As these Images come up , we hear a voiceover.

Kids, in January of 2013, I was living a dream. I was on top of the world with a crown on my head and nothing could bring me down off my high

His debut victory over Level One

His Overdrive Championship Victory

His conquest at Test For the Best

His Championship Victory at Shockwave.

I was the Undisputed Champion, the best of the best. I thought it was the peak of my career. Until, things kept getting better and better.

His One Night in Hell Elimination Chamber victory.

His conquest over Biggs at Christmas Chaos.

His walking out of the Year End Awards show with arms full of hardware.

When was I going to wake up? When was this dream all going to be over? At that point in my career, it seemed that there was nothing left. It felt like the right moment to pack the bags and ride off into the sunset.

A massive amount of images flash quickly on the scene as it looks like the entire career of the man referred to as THE REAL SHOW is played out in front of our eyes. The final image is of him standing on high ground looking down at all of these images laid out in front of him, contemplating the existence of his career.

I was wrong. There was one thing left to do.

A video clip of the 2011 Survive and Conquer Match is played. Terry Marvin is on top of the ladder with his hand on the briefcase….. just before he is shoved off the ladder and we see the view from his eyes of Ryan Ruckus claiming the prize as it gets further and further from him until we hear a crashing sound and the scene goes black.

It was the one thing I’ve coveted since my very first APW Match. It was the one thing I had dreams and nightmares about. It was the one thing I FAILED to accomplish in my career, the ONLY thing.

A montage of video clips of the 2012 Survive and Conquer Match plays with Marvin entering the ring second and brusing through the exhausting match for nearly two hours, tossing out victim after victim after victim until he is caught by an angered Level One looking for Revenge, and dumped out of the match. He just lies there, exhausted and consumed by his inability to achieve his destiny.

I had one goal. I had one mission. I had one purpose on this earth: To claim that which had eluded me for FAR too long, to reach the point of glory so supernatural that it verged on immortality, to WIN Survive and Conquer.

We see a picture of Terry Marvin on top of a ladder with a Briefcase clutched to his chest. The faces of the crowd around him seem to be in pure pain and torture. Terry’s grin on his face tells the whole story, the story of the struggle, the conquest, and the sheer joy of accomplishing one’s goal.

But I’m getting ahead of myself. Let’s go back to that fateful day.

----------

January 26, 2013– London England – Around Noon local time

The hotel room smells of sweat and stale beer. The mustiness seems caked against the walls as old food containers litter an overfilled trash can. Sitting on the couch in front of a television with a laptop on his lap and frantically writing on a notebook on the coffee table is the APW Undisputed Champion Terry Marvin.

{I know, the scene doesn’t look too pretty. It wasn’t. I don’t think I’d left that hotel room in weeks unless it was to hit the gym. I was obsessed with figuring out WHAT was keeping me from breaking the glass ceiling, from going all the way, from being the last man standing. }

The door to the room opens and a loud gagging/retching sound can be heard.

“Good God, it smells like a skunk fucked a sewage pipe in here!”

Lester Only steps into view.

{The man they called Level One was at that time the greatest Undisputed Champion to ever step foot in APW. He held just about all the records that mattered. I guess you could call him my friend, if things like that exist in the wrestling world. Though he always had a spot of jealousy and resentment towards me. See, I was the Sindicate’s Chosen prodigy, and that drove Lester crazy! }

”Get out of here, get some fresh air, hell buy a glade plug in while you’re at it.”

“I can’t…. I’ve gotta find it!”

“Find what?”

“That thing”

“I’m not too keen on having a two word conversation. What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Every year, I put on one hell of a performance in this match. I was clearly the best beyond all forms of measure. But every year I dropped the ball somehow and there was this ONE thing keeping me from pushing further, from going harder. It’s like there was this wall holding me back, one that no matter how big the hammer I used, I couldn’t break through!”

Level One flashes a quick smile.

{I’m not sure if he was grinning because he was the reason I exited last year, or if the thought of me not breaking through to my potential gave him a warm and fuzzy…. probably both. }

“Look, you have NOTHING to worry about. You’ve got the FULL backing of the Sindicate, and don’t forget the little plan ‘B’ we’ve got in store.”

{I would have caught it if I was paying attention, but there was a pained grimace on his face when he talked about the Sindicate. I didn’t know it then, but Lester was planning to stab me in the back to preserve his own legacy. }

“You’ve got this in the bag. The Sindicate will be celebrating for years to come. It’s going to be Legend…..Wait for it…...”

Terry sighed and ignored Lester almost completely, continuing to watch the tape over and over, looking for the niche he needed.

“DARY!!! Legendary!”

“You don’t get it Lester, this isn’t just another notch in my belt, another accomplishment to add on my walls. This is the only thing I’ve ever wanted. This is my Legacy!”

“Your legacy? How pretentious of a word is that. Only retired old bastards with too many regrets talk like that. You’re the Fucking Undisputed Champion. You just had the single greatest year in wrestling history! Your Legacy is cemented.”

“That’s not good enough LESTER! If I don’t do this, if I don’t win Survive and Conquer, if I don’t stand out against 99 of the greatest names in wrestling history, then everything I’ve ever accomplished is for NOTHING.”

The door opens again and another voice comes shooting in.

“And you think living like a hermit and obsessing over past failures is the way to do that?”

We see Felipe Deloren walking in and standing next to Level One, passing him a dissatisfied glance.

“I sent you here to get him out of this unproductive funk, and yet again you’ve failed me.”

Lester clenches his fist, but has to breathe to let the impulse pass.

{Felipe WAS the Sindicate…and at that time was my biggest supporter though I still didn’t trust him nearly as much as I trusted Level One….in hindsight, that was a HUGE mistake! }

“You think this issue of yours is about form, or physical prowess, or something of that magnitude. You’re wrong. The only block is the one in your head! There is a reason you haven’t eclipsed that level. Your mind won’t let you! There’s something up there holding you back. There’s a little piece of something that you continue to cling to that won’t allow you to expand your abilities. YOU need to figure out what it is, and FIX IT!”

Terry thinks for a second, then hops to his feet and heads towards the exit of the hotel room.

“I know what I have to do!”

Level One stops him.

“WHOA! If you go out there like this, the EPA will snatch you up and you won’t make it to Survive and conquer! Perhaps a shower….and a WHOLE lot of mouthwash first, yeah?”
Terry sniffs himself and cringes.

“Good Idea. Gas up the Jet. I’m going to Vegas.”

“What? NOW? Why?”

Terry smiles slightly.

“I’ve got that wall in front of me. No hammer works, so I’m going to get a wrecking ball!”

----------

January 26, 2013– Las Vegas, Nevada- 10 minutes till Midnight local time

{I didn’t know exactly what I had to do… but I knew it had to do with her, your Mother.}

Sitting in a corner booth at one of the greasy spoons of Las Vegas sits a very nervous and jittery Terry Marvin. Finally, his eyes light up as Faythe walks through the door.

{Your mother and I had been married for a few years at that point, but lately things were a bit rocky. She wanted me to walk away from this business, start a family, and never look back. I just couldn’t do it, and in her eyes that meant that wrestling was more important than she’d ever be. }

Faythe sits at the booth.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

The awkward moment seemed to drag on forever. So I figured I’d just get to the point and not drag things out any more than they had to be.

“Okay, look… I’ve been going over Survive and Conquer in my head. You’ve been there with me the past 2 years, you know how focused I was, how ready I was…and still I couldn’t get to that holy grail. During those two… no matter how confident I was, I couldn’t picture myself with the briefcase in my hands at the end. It’s the same now… I can’t picture it.”

“Maybe it’s not meant to be.”

“Maybe. Maybe all this time I’ve been fooling myself. Perhaps I’m not the king of the wrestling mountain like I’ve pretended all along.”

Faythe scoffs and shakes her head.

“You’re wrong. You’re the Greatest Thing to EVER Happen to Wrestling….and don’t you forget that.”

{Your mom ALWAYS knew the right thing to say to cheer me up….no matter what, and she did it again. That’s what made this so hard.}

“I understand now, why I couldn’t be successful, not at this anyways. This was never my destiny. My destiny lies elsewhere. My destiny lies with you, with our future, and the family you want to build. You were right… I can’t have wrestling AND you anymore. The two paths are diverging, and it’s time for me to admit that my future is with you!”

Tears, happy tears, fall from the eyes of Faythe as she hears this news.

“I….I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything. I’m sorry for the way I’ve been treating you, for making you feel like wrestling is more important. That wasn’t fair to you. You deserve someone who can put you first. And now, I have to choose between you and Survive and Conquer.”

Terry has to choke back his emotion. He pulls out a yellow folder.

“You are my destiny, my future.”

He slides the folder over to her.

“It’s time to change that!”

She opens the folder and reads the title on the first page with a shocked and pained look on her face….

PETITON FOR DIVORCE

“I make my OWN destiny. I choose Survive and Conquer!”

----------

January 27, 2028 – Las Vegas Home of Terry Marvin

We return back to the scene on the couch.

I finally realized the last step I needed to take. It was so simple and laid out right in front of me. Ask yourself, what thing have the Gods required from mankind since the beginning of time? It doesn’t matter if it was eternal glory, or a fine crop in the springtime, a sacrifice was required.

The two kids on the couch look at each other confused.

I always thought that the damage I did to my body, the countless hours spent preparing, and the grueling notion of a bleak future were sacrifices enough. But when it all came down to it, I had to give up something real, something that was embedded in a part of my soul that I kept hanging on to. The Hope of a family.

The two kids begin to slowly fade to transparency

I guess that’s why I’m sitting here talking to the kids that I never had, about a family that never existed.

The two kids disappear completely as we watch the pictures around the room change one by one. A shot of Terry playing with his children turned into a shot of Terry with a S&C briefcase. A shot of Terry and Faythe’s wedding day instead turned into Terry’s Hall of Fame Induction photo. The scene pans around the room as one by one the photos of Terry’s friends and family either disappears or is replaced with photos of just Terry, alone….but with his innumerable trophies.

The second I realized that there was nothing more important than achieving my destiny, than capturing the Survive and Conquer crown, I won! Sure, there was the hard part still to come, but all the walls that prevented me from my milestone were obliterated. I no longer had a reason to hold back. I no longer had outside thoughts distracting me. I was free….and with freedom came focus…and with focus came that last push required to bathe me in glory!

The camera finishes panning around and an aged Terry Marvin stands in front of the camera now. In a matter of seconds, time rewinds in a flash of the eye and he seems a bit younger.

January 27, 2025

Sometimes I wonder what did all the others sacrifice? What did they do to break down that glass ceiling, sending a shower of shards in flying in an explosion of greatness? Whatever it was, it wasn’t quite enough. Each and every one of them had something holding them back, had some figurative rope lassoed around their ankle preventing them from breaking the laws of gravity! And in the end, it didn’t matter what they did, it changed nothing.

Biggs and CJ Gates and their epic partnership crumbled before the pressure placed on them. Two of the greatest that APW will ever remember couldn’t rise up to stop me, no matter what was on the line, no matter how hard they tried, they couldn’t stop the Real Show Era separately OR together.

Keaton Saint and Sally Talfourd rode in with the highest of hopes that the Pilars would stand tall and strong. Keaton, as brave and worthy of a foe that he was, once again felt the sting of falling to my hands, at kneeling before the man who has proven time and time again to be his superior. Sally fought as if her life was on the line, as if her career was on the line. She was as ferocious as a lioness, as vicious as a great white. Any other day, any other time, and the day would have been hers. But not even the last magician could deny GOD’S GIFT TO WRESTLING that day.

Terry’s face again seems to regress in age once again, the wrinkles under his eyes fades and his hair jutted forward again reducing his receding hair line.

January 27, 2020

I almost feel bad for the massive congregation of outsiders who came to APW to take a swing at glory. Truth is, most of them, such as Kid Dynamo, were just plain dreamers who never really had a snowballs chance in hell of doing what it took to be the chosen one! All they saw was the glory that waited for them on the other side of the river. They didn’t see the rapids ready to crush them against the rocks, or the alligators starved for fresh meet and poised to rip into whatever flesh they can find. They saw the destination and forsook the journey, and that was their downfall!

Others with the invasive mindset knew the dangers waiting for them. James Stall was just like me at that point in time. HE clung to a Championship belt that he moved mountains and defied dangerous odds to keep in his possession. He too saw his victory as a foregone conclusion, as completing some quest of destiny. He did, however, underestimate those around him, turning a blind eye that became his downfall!

And then, there was the unfortunate case of Adrien Specter. After prematurely proclaiming 2013 the year of the Specter, he had the most to lose in this match, especially after he guaranteed victory so many times. He couldn’t take advantage of his very fortunate draw, and the Ghost became just that, a memory lost in the wind….always there, yet still so far away.

Terry’s age regresses once again in a flurry of images. His hair seems almost back to normal and the wrinkles are completely gone.

January 27, 2015

Even now, I look back on all those who came before me. I think about Victor Hades and what he went through to claim victory. I think about Level One and all the success he captured after. I think about Ryan Ruckus and Alioth Starre and the lack of glory and prestige that their victory brought them. I think about them and wonder how I stacked up, how my journey compared to theirs.

For them, the greatest part about their accomplishment was just that…the fact that they reached their goal. For me, it was different. It was the journey…the glory of doing what I set out to do, what I was destined to do. Everything that went into that victory: the sacrifices, the preparation, the determination, the blood, the sweat, the tears. That’s what I’ll remember most. That was my glory, my joy.

After it was all said and done, there was a bit of a letdown. I’d finally gotten everything I’ve ever wanted, and suddenly this wave of depression flooded over me. My life then lacked purpose, lacked direction. What was left to accomplish? What goal could I possibly come up with that would equal the feat I just achieved? It was a dark time in my life. I guess that’s the price you pay for filling out your destiny, for getting your wish, for living out your life’s desire. Even with that dark time, I would NEVER trade the feeling of victory for a MILLION happy days. I would never trade that victory for ANYTHING!

His face changes. It becomes bruised, and sweat pours from his hair. Blood and dirt stain his features. But he smiles, his arms raised, a golden case dangling from his right arm.

January 28, 2013 – London, England – Just after midnight.

That match came down to the fact that I broke through the fourth wall…that I took that extra step…that I was willing to sacrifice EVERYTHING to claim the greatest prize in wrestling history.

There were 100 of the greatest in that match. No matter how it played out, only one could win…only one could EVER win.

NOTHING will ever compare to that moment, to that feeling. What I sacrificed….the family, the wife, the screaming rug rats….would have meant nothing compared to this. For one moment in time, I was more than just the greatest wrestler in APW… I was the GREATEST in the history of our business. I just won the most stacked version of the most dangerous and prestigious match ever invented. I ascended. I was no longer God’s Gift….

I

WAS

GOD!

The scene changes again. The blood and sweat fade and his face looks refreshed, not tired. Other than that, his appearance is identical.

January 27, 2013 – London, England – Just before Survive and Conquer.

Today, 100 men and women woke out of their beds with likely the worst nights sleep of their lives. They got dressed and ate breakfast, what little they could stomach that is. Some of them threw up in nervous anticipation. Some of them hit their knees in prayer. Some of them participated in unusual perperation techniques. But all of them, no matter who they were or where they were, all of them took a deep breath and imagined themselves with the golden case in their hands.

Tonight, I will REALIZE that image.

Who will Survive and Conquer? Heh, I’ve never really liked that phrasing. When it comes right down to it, you can NEVER Survive and Conquer can you? I mean, not really. To survive, you must do everything in your power to walk out of that match breathing….to survive, you must abandon all other school of thought and focus your energy on staying alive. I say FUCK THAT! I don’t think you can have both… I think you Survive OR Conquer. I’ve spent the last two years clinging to survival.

Tonight, I chose NOT to survive. Tonight I choose to CONQUER!

My destiny is right there, laid out in front of me. But no future is certain, and 99 other combatants will certainly NOT simply had me that which I desire most. I must EARN IT. It is right there, dangling in front of my face….

Tonight I take what is mine!

For the last two years, I fought my ass off…defied all odds, and came close to everlasting glory. Each time, I saw victory in my grasp, but took my eye off the ball for one second and it cost me EVERYTHING. Tonight there is no distractions, there is only focus. I will not be deterred by History…. I will MAKE IT!

Tonight the third time is a charm!

For those with favorable draws, thinking that’s their ticket to greatness. It’s time to get real and REALIZE that it’s simply just a number. Number 60…. I have to wait till 59 other so called superstars come and go. I have one hour to contemplate my destiny, to get inside my own head, to freak myself out, to pump myself up, and to enjoy the moment. And then…..

IT’S SHOWTIME!!!!

Once again the scene fast forwards through time. We see a 10 second countdown….the number 60….then Terry entering the match. We zoom to Terry holding the 1 million dollar case sitting on top of the ladder. He flashes a smile and winks at the camera.

This has been a SINDICATED SHOWTIME PRODUCTION.

[russexperts]

Pose, Survive, Pout, Conquer, Turn and Fabulous

"So the biggest question is; which one makes the impact? The purple with the sequins, or the fuschia with the feathers?"

We open to a boutique shop in New York City as none other than 'The S-Factor' Scorpio is busy perusing the clothes on offer, staring at each one individually. To be frank the room is little more than a bustling haven of sequins, diamanté and over-sized feathers; alas for some men this makes them happy, and one of those men is the People's Camp, our hero for this story. Scorpio pulls out a zebra-printed tight t-shirt and smiles with glee, throwing it to the nearest shop assistant to bag up for him before he turns back to the camera.

Scorpio: "I mean, when you're facing 99 other wrestlers in one of the biggest events of the year, it's all about making an impact. This is Survive and Conquer we're talking about, one of the greatest things on the wrestling calendar… 100 wrestlers all looking to be the one… to be that victor stood above them all…"

He vaguely drifts off into a daydream, staring off camera for a few moments as if imagining himself as the winner of Survivor and Conquer. Finally he shakes his mane of perfectly-style hair and turns back to the camera, flashing a grin of Hollywood-white teeth before continuing.

Scorpio: "Well when I'm up there, I want to be remembered. If there's one thing life has taught me, it's that being remembered is all about the outfit. Mmmhmmm… and I think we've found the one…"

The People's Camp pulls out a lilac t-shirt with his own face studded onto it in diamanté and an array of other sparkling gems. He smiles at his own pouting image with happiness before holding it to himself and checking in the mirror. Finally Scorpio carefully folds the t-shirt and hands it off to a waiting assistant before looking back at the camera with a quizzical expression.

Scorpio: "What? When I'm winning Survive and Conquer I want to look absolutely fucking fabulous, biatch!"

He winks to the camera and walks past, disappearing from view. Welcome to finding out just how a man like the S-Factor prepares for an event like Survive and Conquer. Dress sharp, be remembered, and ultimately stand above the rest… that's all you've got to know. Welcome to the life of Scorpio. Good fucking luck.

* * * * *

Ten days until Survive and Conquer

"And pose and pout and turn and fabulous… ok darling, go again, this time with more panache!"

Three models wearing 'Inter-CAMP-inental' t-shirts strut down a catwalk as cameramen follow them, shooting from all angles. On one side of the room stands our hero, as per usual in the cutting edge of fashion with his hair in a wild style dragged down one side of his head. Around Scorpio's waist sits the TFWF Intercontinental Championship, a title he's been the proud holder of for 120 days, and today we're at the launch of a t-shirt to commemorate his reign thus far. The S-Factor himself as a slightly concerned expression on his face as he holds out a well-manicured hand and struts onto the catwalk.

Scorpio: "Ok hold it there, it's good, but it's not fabulous just yet. My dears this is going to be the biggest-selling wrestling t-shirt of the year, if not the decade. Those fans go crazy for the People's Camp and I reward them with beautiful fashion, but we've got to show it off just right. Hmmm… you… yes you, give me the t-shirt. I think a pro needs to show you how it's done."

He smiles as one of the models takes off the t-shirt and hands it to Scorpio, who slips it on over his own tight-fitting sparkling top. Scorpio then hands the precious Intercontinental Championship off to an assistant and walks to the top of the catwalk before turning back around, a pout on his face and one hand on his hip.

Scorpio: "You want to sell this? Then you've got to make it--"

Voice: "SCORPIO!"

Immediately his smile fades as the t-shirt launch's attendants step back, opening a path up between Scorpio and the man that just shouted his name… the one and only Crème de la Crème. So, some background on Crème; he's a TFWF Hall of Fame member, boasts a cacophony of title reigns, and now he's Scorpio's mentor and best friend. Oh and he has a ridiculous (like, actually ridiculous) explosion of tight blonde curls; match those to some questionable clothing choices and enough sass and pizzazz to keep San Francisco on its toes for a week, and you've got one hell of an individual. I promise you'll get used to this, but until then just imagine the general aroma of roses in the air and a blinding amount of glitter wherever you look.

Scorpio pouts, in annoyance this time, as Crème walks through the group dragging a gym bag behind him. The TFWF legend is decked out in sweatbands and leg-warmers galore; it's like Queer Eye had a lovechild with an exercise DVD. The S-Factor crosses his arms and raises an eyebrow as Crème makes his way over looking every bit as stern as Scorpio does.

Crème de la Crème: "Weren't you meant to be somewhere OVER AN HOUR AGO?"

Scorpio: "I had pressing matters…"

Crème de la Crème: "I'm sure the TFWF could launch a t-shirt without you."

The S-Factor shakes his head and sighs as if Crème is being ridiculous before he turns around and looks to continue instructing the models on just how to show the t-shirt off. Crème, however, refuses to give up on his aim as he steps forward and clasps at Scorpio's shoulder, spinning him back.

Crème de la Crème: "99 other wrestlers, one of the biggest events of the year for the whole wrestling world, and just one shot to get your name out there. Yet you decide modelling a t-shirt is the best way to prepare?"

Scorpio: "I'll train later! It'll be fine, honestly, I've got this."

Crème de la Crème: "You do realise what Survive and Conquer means, don't you? It's not just some battle royal in some company… this is it, the best of the best, THE event that starts the year! You've got the Extreme Tournament, Queen of Sin, whatever the hell CWC do… and then you've got Survive and Conquer. One HUNDRED wrestlers signed up this year, that's insane, and if you're going to win the whole thing you need to get your act together! There's ten days left and you need to make sure you can do this."

Again Scorpio shows his annoyance at being hounded about getting on with training for Survive and Conquer. His pout stays just where it is before he twists a hand around, thrusting it in front of Crème de la Crème's face. He then calls for the Intercontinental Championship to be handed to him as he holds it up in front of the TFWF legend with a defiant expression on his face.

Scorpio: "And how many of those 100 wrestlers has this? Just one… me. I've faced worse odds and got through it, for once in my career I'm feeling healthy and ready for it. I'm small and nimble, I'm fast and I can slip out of holds better than almost anyone else… I'm a high-flyer, and avoiding people's clutches to not go over the top rope is built into me. I can do this. I'm the TFWF Intercontinental Champion for God's sake!"

Crème de la Crème: "Keaton Saint. CJ Gates. Johnny Rebel. Black Death. Vannah White. Jerry McClean. Dorling. They've all been in events like these before, they've all shone in the past wherever they've gone, and they've all been champions out there. I've been reading up on the rest of the pack and I'm not even a third of the way through yet… but already it's pretty obvious you're against some stiff competition my dear. Survive and Conquer is your chance to start the year in the best way possible, show the world Scorpio's damn well back…"

The blonde veteran stares ahead at his mentee and friend, looking Scorpio up and down as the People's Camp remains stone-faced and determined. Finally Crème shakes his head and throws the gym bag at his feet with a saddened sigh.

Crème de la Crème: "Don't blow it."

And with that Crème turns around and leaves as the room of models, cameramen and fashionistas watch on. Scorpio keeps a brave face for those around him though his bright green eyes betray a feeling of unease following Crème's final speech. He slowly raises the Intercontinental Championship even higher as if it will strengthen his argument before Crème reaches the doors across the hall and turns back around, hoping that the S-Factor may show some signs of realising the importance of Survive and Conquer. All he gets in return is a snap of Scorpio's fingers as he turns back to the t-shirt launch, throwing the title across to the assistant once more.

"Ok let's do this then. So begin with the cocked hip and make sure your eyes are smiling even if your face isn't…"

* * * * *

One week until Survive and Conquer

"Good afternoon TFWF, Mahoney McMillian at your service, and have I got a scoop interview for you!"

We open to backstage at a TFWF house show where the TFWF's resident bespectacled interview, Mahoney McMillian (commonly known as Mac), is ready and waiting with a microphone in hand. As usual Mac has done this best to dress sharply but unfortunately he's one more fallen short; what a shame he's about to interview our fashion-obsessed hero who no doubt will tear his choice of clothing apart… yet again. Mac smiles before he begins to walk backwards down the corridor, still continuing his piece to camera.

Mahoney McMillian: "In just seven days APW is putting on one of the biggest shows of the year, the one and only Survive and Conquer, headlined by a 100-wrestler battle royal! The TFWF's biggest entrant this year comes in the form of our very own People's Camp, and with the final odds being released from APW's official betting partner this morning we're going to find out just how he feels about his placement."

The interviewer turns and heads down the corridor before he reaches a locker room with its own personalised sign - the Glee logo with 'Scorpio' written over it. Of course. Mac knocks on the door and within seconds it's opened with a flourish, and a beaming Scorpio steps out from behind showing off his Hollywood-white teeth.

Scorpio: "Well hello there Mac! A pleasure to see you once more. Shame you couldn't have dressed up for the occasion but we'll let it slide."

Mahoney McMillian: "Maybe one day Scorpio. Now the final odds for Survive and Conquer have been released and a predicted finishing order has been put together. I was wondering if you would mind giving a few comments on where you came--"

Scorpio: "Oh, interesting! Where did I come? No. Let me guess… it won't have been first, I've never wrestled in APW before, they can't know my splendour just yet. Hmmm. I'm going to say top ten… top ten right? Of course I am!"

Mahoney McMillian: "Scorpio, you're predicted as finishing at number 37."

Immediately the wide smile closes and the S-Factor's entire face drops like it never has before. Even when the final Twilight film was announce as being in two parts. He leans against the doorframe and stares off to the side for a few moments, composing his thoughts.

Scorpio: "I'm 37th? Are you sure?"

Mahoney McMillian: "Well you're entering the match at 49th, so you're disadvantaged as it is. Not to mention your size… being small isn't an advantage in a battle royal, not without a bit of luck to go with it. Being predicted as 37th is good, you're in the top 40 of the match, and in a 100-wrestler match that's incredible!"

Scorpio: "But I'm the TFWF Intercontinental Champion… former Undisputed World Heavyweight Champion, Light-Heavyweight Champion, European Champion, Tag Team Champion… HOW?! I TOOK THEIR BLOODY HERO LEVEL-ONE TO THE LIMIT WHEN I WRESTLED HIM! HOW AM I 37TH?!"

He stares at the camera before shaking his head and signalling for the camera to be shut off. Mac nods to his cameraman and the indicative red light at the top quickly goes dull. Scorpio then turns back to the interviewer with a sigh as he stares down at the floor.

Scorpio: "I'm sorry Mac, I didn't mean to ruin the interview… it's just… I expected more. After everything I've been through and done in this sport…"

Mahoney McMillian: "The TFWF knows how good you are, but right now the world's only seeing a man who'd rather launch a t-shirt than get ready for a huge battle royal. Yeah… Twitter was alive with videos of your fight with Crème."

The S-Factor's eyes widen with realisation, almost as if now understanding how much of an arse he must have looked. Mahoney offers him a half-smile before continuing, acting the wise and seasoned interview as ever.

Mahoney McMillian: "The TFWF sees you as a hero but out there in the real world you've got to prove yourself, people won't hand you things, people won't take your word for how good you are. There are countless wrestlers out there that I've not even heard of, and I watch every piece of wrestling footage I can… they're getting their heads down, training and getting ready to make an impact. You went shopping and did some modelling. Remember how hard you worked to fight to the top of the TFWF?"

Scorpio: "My back still aches from when Legacy tried to break it eighteen months ago, and there's a scar down my side from when I stood against the One Ring Circus when nobody else would."

Mahoney McMillian: "That's the never say die attitude APW needs to see. That's the attitude needed to win Survive and Conquer."

Scorpio hangs his head. Crème's final words to him before walking out were not to blow it, and already it seems he's done just that. Being labelled as the 37th best wrestler in Survive and Conquer had come as a shock no doubt, but perhaps it was the kick-start the People's Camp needed. Hell, perhaps he could even use it to his advantage. Who would expect to be beaten by good old number 37? The S-Factor looks up at Mahoney McMillian and his shoulders drop.

Scorpio: "I've played this all wrong, haven't I?"

Mahoney McMillian: "If you want to win it? Yeah. But, there's still a week left…"

A smile spreads over Mac's mouth as he stares ahead at Scorpio, who in turn slowly looks up. The bright green eyes begin to shine with hope as the S-Factor takes a deep breath and offers back a half-smile to the interviewer before resting a hand on Mahoney's shoulder.

"A week might just be long enough. Thank you."

* * * * *

Five days until Survive and Conquer

The People's Camp has come home to London, England with just a matter of days left until the biggest event of the winter hits Wembley Stadium; Survive and Conquer. Since Mahoney McMillian's frank and honest dissection of Scorpio's attitude to the event he has been doing a lot of thinking. A lot. As we join him he's sat on the zebra-print chaise longue in his Kensington apartment, staring dead ahead at the giant television currently paused on a shot of two wrestlers mid-action. Papers, notes and comments are sprawled out on the table in front of Scorpio as he furious switches between pages for the rest of the competitors, flicking his gaze from the TV and back to the pages.

Scorpio: "John Slade… right… giant, dominant, powerful… utilises a huge powerbomb, could send me out… counter with a hurricanrana? No. Too cliché, he'll be expecting it. Counter with a sunset flip."

He smiles weakly and notes down the decision on Slade's paper before he hits play on the remote and watches as the two wrestlers on the screen come to life. They go back and forth with some hard strikes before one of them lands a brutal-looking reverse death valley driver. The S-Factor winces slightly as the victim of the move crumples in a broken heap on the mat, and Scorpio pauses yet again.

Scorpio: "And you're… Johnny Knuckles! Potentially off your rocker, been in the game for a lot longer than me… loves to brawl, and definitely watch out for that Broken Promise."

The People's Camp notes it all down on Kuckles' page in his notes before he looks over the 100 pieces of paper staring back at him, each with some information. On closer inspection the usual glint of quiet confidence and self-reassurance is gone from Scorpio's eyes, and for one of the first times since he got his first pair of curling irons, his hair has been left to hang naturally. To the trained Scorpio fan eye, this is the S-Factor at the very limits of stress. This is the S-Factor in meltdown! He gets up from his set and walks to the apartment's kitchen where he throws open the fridge door. Scorpio stares inside at the shelves, which are entirely filled with bottles of Evian water, before he sighs and holds his head.

For two days he's been endlessly watching footage and trying to gleam as much information as possible about the 99 wrestlers standing in the way of glory. With every new video his heart had sank a little lower as the talents just got better and better… this wasn't a showcase of a few good wrestlers and a tonne more to make up the numbers… Survive and Conquer was 100 of the very best going to war. Hell, even Legion had made himself a player!

Scorpio: "Don't blow it… if only."

He pulls out the nearest bottle of Evian and unscrews the cap, sipping at the purified water within. As Scorpio brings the bottle down he stares across the kitchen's worksurface where his cell phone (in a diamanté-studded case no less) is sat plugged into its charger. He closes his eyes… time to swallow your pride S-Factor. Scorpio picks the phone up and scrolls through it before placing it to his ear. It rings. And again. Finally there's a click.

"Crème, it's me. I'm in London. I need help."

* * * * *

"I came into this determined to Conquer… but now… this may just be a case of Surviving."

Slowly the scene fades in to an empty ring within an empty gym in London. Sat on the ring apron is, of course, our hero for this tale, the one and only Scorpio. While we would usually expect to see him decked out in all manner of grandiose splendour the S-Factor is surprisingly under-dressed. His usually straightened, curled, gelled, sprayed, twisted, clayed and teased hair is simply tied back, and his face is unnervingly make-up free. Scorpio is dressed in his TFWF t-shirt and a pair of basketball shoes, looking ready for a training session as he looks across at the camera.

Scorpio: "When the advert for Survive and Conquer was pinned up backstage at one of our Monday Mayhem shows there was no doubt in my mind; I wanted to join the match, and above all else I wanted to win. A match boasting 100 wrestlers, a million dollar prize fund, a prestigious trophy to add to the collection and above all else the chance to call yourself the 2013 Survive and Conquer match winner. I want this win more than anything… but I made a mistake with it… I stood back and decided I could simply walk in and kick all kinds of ass. APW, you've proven me wrong.

This is an event to be revered, and a line-up of wrestlers to be fearful of. You've got tried and tested champions like Johnny Rebel and CJ Gates, both men that have risen to the top of their sport and shown themselves to be the best. You've got giants like John Slade and Black Death who could take just about anyone in that match and send them flying over the top rope. Speedy and agile wrestlers like Vannah White and Sally Talfourd. There's guys like Adrien Specter and Keaton Saint that will twist your body and put you through hell. This match is stacked with talent left, right and centre and I'm supposed to go in there and make an impact? Stand out and defeat the likes of these people? Hell there are guys in there I've never even heard of, and yet a couple of YouTube videos later and I know these are seasoned, skilled, brutal, vicious, dominating and destructive wrestlers who'd love nothing more than to put a showboating son of a bitch like me over the top rope…"

For a few moments more Scorpio stares into the camera, before finally he begins to crack a smile.

Scorpio: "Well challenge accepted. Before I wanted to win this simply for the glory and the excitement of coming to APW and showing them what I can do. I wanted to emulate the likes of Ryan Ruckus and Alioth Starr. I wanted to be in that final four that get in the steel cage, then the final three that make it to the Street Fight, I wanted to go through to the one on one Hell in a Cell and I wanted to walk out with the prize money, the game, the recognition and most importantly the trophy. My eyes have been opened. This match is a test of anyone's skills, whether you're an internationally-recognised name like Dorling, whether you're a veteran with a point to prove like Mark Mania, whether you're a newcomer like Jeremiah Sloan, or whether you're the TFWF Intercontinental Champion ready to make an impact on the world stage.

In just three days I'm going to Wembley Stadium and I promise you I'm leaving there with my name in the history books. Survive and Conquer is one of the biggest events in the wrestling calendar, it only seems fair that a big name takes the prize. 'Scorpio' is a big name… 'Scorpio' is a champion… 'Scorpio' is your 2013 Survive and Conquer winner."

He pushes to his feet and walks towards the camera with a smile on his face as he looks more and more ready to do this.

Scorpio: "I know I'm going to leave that ring in a world of pain, I know I'll probably pick up some kind of injury, and I know on paper half the match has a weight, height or experience advantage on me. But I've got heart, it just took a little while to find it. I've got heart and courage and a willingness to never give up. APW, Survive and Conquer, the S-Factor's going to give you everything he has in exchange for that trophy. Never has a deal been so fabulous."

Scorpio winks to the camera when suddenly the air is cut by the sound of a door opening and slamming shut. The S-Factor spins to stare and a smile develops over his face as none other than Crème de la Crème is stood there with a giant of a man right behind him. Scorpio narrows his eyes as Crème smiles and saunters over.

Crème de la Crème: "There's just three days to get you as sharp as possible. How do you feel about being thrown around?"

He looks up at the gigantic man stood with Crème, apparently here to train the People's Camp to take on the big men of Survive and Conquer. Scorpio smiles, ready for his training, ready to prove himself, ready to go out there…

"I can't fucking wait."

Fin.

[Tombstone]

Sports Illustrated Exclusive Article:
Who is this new phenom named 'Tombstone'?

by Hank Lowe
January 21st, 2013

Those of you that are familiar with the ever growing world of wrestling may know this man. But less than a year ago, barely anybody knew of him in this little crazy world of ours. Sure, some of you may have recognized him from a little fed called FcW. His stint there lasted about as long as a snowball in Hell. But back then, he wore a mask that looked like a skull. As you can tell, these days, the skull is now tattooed on his entire head. The rest of his body is full of ink too. The man is a walking skeleton. He also happens to be one giant of a man. Nearly 7 feet tall, 317 pounds, the man known as Tombstone can be an intimidating sight, even to well weathered veterans of the squared circle.

But who is this man? Where did he come from? And why did he become one of the hottest things the wrestling world has ever seen?

These are questions that still, even after seven months, still don't have much of an answer. This article was supposed to be an interview. I tried my hardest to get him on board, but he continuously declined me. He is very secretive and selective when it comes to being in the lime light outside of a ring. For those in the know, he did a radio interview not too long ago that I'm sure you could find if you know where to look. I wanted to do his first printed interview, but I guess it just wasn't meant to be. That doesn't mean I still can't write an article about him. Whether he likes it or not, people ARE talking about him and people DO want to know about him.

I'm not going to claim I know everything about this man. I probably know about as much as you do. Tombstone, birth name Elias Dietrich, hails from Berlin, Germany. Yes, this monstrous man comes from one of the most interesting countries on this planet. Fitting, right? He was born in Schwerin, which is a town a few hours away from Berlin. Not much is known about his childhood. In fact, nothing is known about his childhood. But since his arrival to NEWera Wrestling, rumors have swirled around him like a hurricane. One of the most interesting rumors is that, aside from the tattoos, he may have had reconstructive surgery on his face. But, of course, these rumors have been neither confirmed or declined. People that have managed to talk to him instead of running away in fear have said that they asked him what his tattoos meant. In reply, he simply stated, 'To fix a mistake'.

In the eyes of some, that reply lends credence to the rumor of his reconstructive surgery. But my question is how can a man that has flown so low under the radar, even in his home country, afford something as expensive as reconstructive surgery? But then again, how can a man that has flown so low under the radar afford the massive amounts of ink that cover his body? This is the circle I've been in the past few months when trying to figure out just who 'Tombstone' really is. I went back to some FcW tapes and watched. His arms and chest were tattooed back then, but you could clearly see that his neck was bare and, one would assume, his head was void of tattoos also. When he joined FcW, he was a nobody. Call me crazy, but nobodies aren't given lucrative contracts, especially ones that can give the man surgery or massive amounts of tattoos. But he had some of the tattoos he has today when he was there. I have one question, come to an answer, which only leads me to another question. Like I said, I'm in a circle when it comes to this man.

Usually, I'm very good at getting answers. But not me, nor any of my sources, can find anything concrete on this guy. It's like he just appeared out of thin air. When I looked at the date on the FcW tapes, his time there was back in 2008. And once he was done with that place in a short and quick two months, he disappeared once again. Nobody ever saw him again until four years later, when he suddenly appeared in NEWera's annual London Brawl. I remember watching it, as I'm a fan of NEWera. He was a late entrant and I was taken aback by this man. I had never seen him before and his look and commanding presence had me immediately hooked. He entered the ring and proceeded to go on a rampage, eliminating five people. Nobody seemed to have an answer for anything he did. His size proved to be a huge advantage as he went on his rampage. I seriously thought this unknown person was going to win it all and get to challenge for NEWera's most prestigious championship. Eventually, someone figured out what to do, a little worm named Spencer Riggs (who went on to win the London Brawl by the way), eliminated him, using Tombstone's own momentum against him. He pulled down the top rope as the big man charged him and Tombstone flew right out of the ring and into the depths of elimination.

But even if he didn't win the Brawl, he had certainly turned heads. But he wasn't done there.

His first official match was two weeks later against a man that was even bigger than him. And he won. Somehow, he won. And that match there began what became known as 'The Streak'. For six months, anybody that had to face Tombstone was basically given a death sentence. Nobody could stop him. It didn't matter if he faced one man, two men, three men, every time, he took them down. And what's crazy about it is there had been so many times that it looked like he was finally going to taste the bitterness of defeat. But somehow, someway, he fought through the pain. He fought through plans to hurt him. He fought through it all and found a way to put down his opponent. And it didn't take long for him to capture gold in the NEWera Television Championship. He debuted in June and won it in August. And he still holds that championship today. In fact, he passed the 150 day mark not too long ago, officially making himself the longest reigning Television Champion in NEWera history.

The strength he showcases is uncanny, even for a man of his size. His in ring prowess is some of the best I've seen from a big man. Sure, you could probably point to some and say that they were better when it came to in ring skills. But what separates Tombstone from those guys is his will. A few months ago, when defending his Television Championship against Eric Donovan (another hot up and comer that I am especially excited about), it looked as if The Streak and his reign as champ was over. I'll admit, Donovan had him dead to rights. Things were looking grim. Tombstone's leg was injured, his mobility was drastically cut down. The man had taken so many Dragon Fangs (Basically a super kick on steroids to those that don't know), that I thought he was going to need dentures when it was all said and done. But he didn't quit. He kept kicking out, much to the shock of everyone. He even put his own body on the line and did his finishing maneuver, The Graveyard Shift (again, to those not in the know, it's a kneeling double underhook piledriver) FROM THE TOP ROPE. Bummed leg and all, over 300 pounds landing on a bad leg. These are the kinds of things he does to make sure he wins.

But as he had said for months, The Streak would end. And it did. On December 15th, 2012, in a brutal hardcore match in newly founded fed, Visionary Wrestling, The Streak was broken by a man named Bombtrack. It took everything Bombtrack had, plus more, to keep Tombstone down. At first, I couldn't believe it. The Streak was beginning to seem like it could never be broken. But Tombstone knew it could be. He knew what it would take to beat someone like him. But that didn't mean he wasn't going to put up a fight. And did he ever.

The very next night after his first loss, Tombstone stepped inside a six man Hell in a Cell. I know, crazy, right? I can't make this stuff up. Any normal man would have needed at least a month to recuperate from what he had went through with Bombtrack. But Tombstone has proven himself to be a very dedicated man. He had a chance at James Stall's World Heavyweight Championship. And he wasn't about to let something as minuscule as pain stop him. At first, I thought he was crazy. And I still think he is. Something has to be wrong mentally with a man that covers himself in tattoos and keeps pushing forward, even when it's clear his body couldn't go on anymore. But he did. There were six men, including himself, inside that Cell. It eventually got down to two. The World Champion, James Stall.

And Tombstone.

I was in shock. At that point, I figured he couldn't be human. Not only had he been put through an ungodly amount of pain the night before, here he was on this night, fighting inside one of the most pain inducing structures ever created in the history of wrestling. At one point, he was thrown off and through an announce table. I thought he was dead after that. Minutes later, he was back on top of the Cell as if nothing happened, powerbombing a man called Nightmare right through the top. And then, it came down to just Tombstone and Stall, World Title on the line.

I felt like I was there. The crowd was electric. And they were all 100% behind the mystery man from Berlin. Not many things in this life gives me goosebumps. For the remainder of the match, I had goosebumps. James Stall threw everything he had at him. And yet, Tombstone kept getting up. Stall would put him back down and again, he would get up. It was like watching a real life Terminator. What happened next still turns my stomach. Stall, frustrated, snapped and attacked Tombstone with every weapon he could get his hands on. The beat down he did in the center of the ring with a chair made the ending to Stone Cold and Rock's match at Wrestlemania XVII look like a walk in the park. The chair wasn't even a chair anymore at the end of it. And then, James Stall went for the cover.

And Tombstone kicked out.

Even the crowd couldn't believe it. There was a hushed silence, but that was quickly followed by one of the biggest supporting cheers I have ever heard. But it was the end unfortunately. Stall locked in a torture rack and never let go. Tombstone passed out on his shoulders and the referee called the match. I couldn't believe it. The aura of being invincible was truly gone now. But it didn't mean that Tombstone wasn't one tough cookie. If you have to use everything plus the kitchen sink to take the man out, it says something. Stall even punted the unconscious Tombstone in the head after the match. Two weeks later, Tombstone was back in the ring. He was defeated by Eric Donovan after yet another classic match of theirs. And again, it took everything plus more for Donovan to win.

Who is Tombstone? For as little as we know about him, it sure seems like we know a lot. He's stronger than an ox. His heart is as big as Kanye West's ego. And he's damn near indestructible. We may not know much about his past or why he's covered in tattoos. But he puts on one hell of a show. And in this crazy world of ours, that's all we can really ask for.

-Hank Lowe

-----

The scene slowly fades in inside a dark locker room. Tombstone sits in a chair, wearing black leather pants and no shirt. His head is hanging low as he looks at a piece of paper in his hands. He slowly looks up, his face expressionless as the dark tattooed circles around his eyes accentuate the cold, icy stare. He holds the piece of paper up, the camera slowly zooming in to fill the frame with his head and the paper.

Tombstone:
"Over a veek ago, I received zis invitation. An invitation to participate in Action Packed Vrestling's Survive and Konquer event. 100 men, each looking to eliminate each other to vin it all. I'll admit, at first, I vanted no part of zis. I have enough on my plate as it ist. But when it vas brought to my attention that one James Stall would be in zis event, I had to join. You see... James Stall has proven himself to me to be a koward. Not in zee sense of vhat you might sink. He ist a strong man vif zee potential to be great. But he ist afraid of everysing he has being taken avay from him. He kares not of anybody but himself. And he vill do anysing to keep his Vorld Heavyveight Championship. But his title ist not on the line in zis match. Vhich means he probably does not kare much about it. But if anybody poses a threat to his championship, he takes the koward's vay out. He vill fight, yes, this I know. But he vill try and make sure that he vould never have to face you again."

He stands up, setting the invitation on the chair. He turns to the camera, the tattooed bones on his body coming more into view. He slowly approaches the camera as it slowly pans back, allowing the viewers to see his hulking frame.

Tombstone:
"I accepted zat invitation based solely on zee fact zat James Stall vill be there. I have been trying to get my hands on him since zee middle of last month. But it seems that something alvays stands in my vay. And vhile this isn't exactly how I wanted to get my hands on him, there is no vay I would pass up zee chance. Many of you probably do not know me. I kan say zee same. I am sure that most of you are vonderful people, each one different from zee next vif zee skills to match. In NEW, people like to make me out to be a big deal. And I'm starting to realize zat maybe I am. Zis is zee sekond invitation I have received to perform in a place outside of my home. All I kan say is zat I am honored and I vill perform to zee best of my abilities. Vill I vin? I'm sure that's a question many of you have been asked or asked yourself. But I have not. I am not here to vin. I am here... to get my hands on James Stall. He is not an honorable man. He has not respekt for zis sport of ours. He doesn't even have respekt for those around him. His ego ist already too large for someone like him. I kannot allow it to get any bigger. I also kannot allow him to get avay vif vhat he did to me."

He tilts his head side to side, his neck cracking quite audibly. He squeezes both hands into tight fists, his knuckles cracking as well. He finally gives the camera a smirk, the tattooed teeth on his face curling up into a demented grin.

Tombstone:
"Last month, Stall tried to take me out for good. I vas in a hospital for a veek, kaught in a sleep zat I vasn't vaking up from. But I did vake up. And the first thing on my mind... vas to get my hands on him. Any of us kould hurt one another so bad zat ve vould not be able to kompete anymore. He tried zat vif me. As you kan tell... he failed. I kame zis klose to having him one on one for his Vorld Title, but... it vas not meant to be. Erik Donovan defeated me for zat honor. And Erik Donovan vill be kompeting in zis match as vell. And vhile I vould like to defeat Stall and take his championship for myself, I vould love nothing more than for Donovan to defeat him and get zee respekt he deserves. Donovan has quickly bekame a good friend of mine, one I know I kan trust. And one I know that has vhat it takes to take down James Stall."

He takes a deep breath, giving the camera another small smirk. He crosses his arms, stepping forward a bit more into the dim light. Now you can see that every bone of the body is tattooed on his skin, with muscle tissues and veins in the mix. On his chest is a huge biohazard symbol, more veins and muscle tissue stretching out of it. On top of his head, you can see a brain outlined. Even his ears were tattooed with what looks like spider webs, stretching all the way inside.

Tombstone:
"Some of you may be saying zat I am not fokused on vinning zis match like I should be. But as I have said, I am not here to vin. I am only here to ensure zat Stall doesn't vin. I know that I may not be successful. But as the people who know me for vhat I am... If he ist going to vin, he ist going to have a hard time. But don't sink for a sekond zat I vill be fokused solely on him. There are ninety-eight other people in zis match. And you vill all learn who I am. I do not quit. I do not give in to pain. I simply keep going. And if I have to eliminate many of you before I get my hands on Stall, so be it. I am sure that some of you are better than me, stronger than me, faster than me. But that does not change zee fact zat I vill do vhatever it takes to achieve my goal. I do not have to pin any of you or make you submit. All I have to do... ist throw you over zee top rope. But as ve all know, zat ist easier said then done. If Erik and I are in there together, it vill be no problem to team up and make sure both of us get our hands on Stall. Both of us have a bone to pick vif him and both of us have good reasons to. So to anybody that gets in my vay... good luck. If you somehow get hurt, just know it ist not intentional... unless your name ist James Stall. And I vill say this now. Whoever vins zis... Kongratulations. To be able to say you survived ninety-eight other men and women is a feat in itself and something you should cherish for zee rest of your career. You vill truly be one of zee best when you accomplish zis great task. I vill see you all in London on Sunday. All I ask ist zat you kome prepared. I know I am."

With that, he turns his back to the camera, the scene beginning to slowly fade out. He was being honest when he said he didn't care about winning this. The fact that he got an invitation was enough for him. He was starting to become recognized in every corner of the wrestling world. And once this was all over, many would know him. All he wanted was to stop James Stall. Even if he had to eliminate himself in the process to do so. He was determined to do it. And once he got determined...

A lot had to be done to stop him.

[Slade "The Main Man" Craven]

******************************************************************************

******************************************************************************

Slade stands under a spotlight wearing a ringmaster’s top hat and coat. He carries a cane. Behind Slade the circus tent is lined with skeletons. They are burning; the white bones charred a cold gray. The steel seating has turned red hot from the fire. Slade looks up as sweat pours down his forehead. Slade’s hair is dyed red and orange. He’s trimmed his facial hair to a douche-beard. He stands and tosses the cane from his right hand to his left, spins around and addresses the fleshless audience.

“Ladies and Gentlemen you’ve all come a long way to be here tonight and I say welcome. Welcome to Action Pack Wrestling very special extra ordinary presentation. You’ll have been personally selected to witness this once in a lifetime breathtaking ass kicking event. Right here in London, without any more adieu, you will welcome the return of mesmerizing Main Man himself: Number eight- Slade Craven!

With a bang! Come on bring me everything. Your total annihilation is the reason I came. Ka-Pow! I’ll take all of you out and when I make my way into this big ole fucking bout. Bam-Boom! It spells out your doom. No one will escape, cause it’s happening soon!

Allow me to welcome to Slade Craven’s special show. You’re my specially invited guests and I’ll tell you what for. Cause you’re the stupidest assholes, cruising for a bruising. Altogether I’ve got ninety nine of your losers. You’re all about to witness such a mesmerizing site. No one ever wants to talk about it; And I don’t think you might. It’s gonna rain flames- frames and brains. To be beat into pieces is the reason you came. Racists, bigots, chick beaters, heroes and cowards; all crowded together expecting One Million fucking dollars. But instead the shit I’m gonna dole out is pure freaking hell. The Main Man is coming, experience it you shall!

Here’s the bang! Bitches bring me everything. Dishing out the beatings is the reason I came, Slam-Pow! I’ll take each of you out and turn your whole fucking world into a mushroom cloud. Wham Boom- You all just assumed The Main Man is weak, but he’s bringing your doom!

In the dredges of London, where your world is undone, I tell you The Main Man’s new war has only begun. Now Slam Pow Boom, Slade’s jumped in the bout. You wouldn’t fucking believe that he is going all out. All the snakes and fakes, Keaton Saint; Hoods and crooks, Jared James; Sarah Twilight, Michael Lively Juvi Juice and Jodi Gray. Slade’s here now. Yes, The Main Man’s the bomb. So fucking explosive some might call him napalm. Bitches battles back, this here is my kind of war. It's your one-way execution, I’ll toss you over the ropes and down to the floor. What the fuck you think I’m here for? Sound the alarm! You think you can Survive and Conquer me? Let’s bring it on!"

*************************************************************************************

The next scene opens on a roaring fireplace. As the camera pulls back there is an elaborate purple and green high back chair sitting in front of this fireplace and sitting in that chair of course is Slade Craven. He is wearing along green and gold Hugh Hefner robe with his initials S C embroidered on the right breast pocket. Slade wears some classy reading glasses and holds a corn cob pipe in his right hand. Sitting across Slade’s lap is a large leather bound book. Craven has a shit eating grin on his face as he takes a long draw from the pipe and exhales slowly.

“Good evening bitches,” Slade says with a faux British accent. “I’m a British person, for years the character Slade Craven has been featured prominently in Action Packed Wrestling, but he has not been given the true credit he’s earned. So tonight I am here to narrate to you the compelling and exhilarating tale of ‘The Main Man,’ That’s right bitches it’s Story Time with Slade!”

Craven drops his accent and picks up the storybook. The camera pans around and over his shoulder giving the viewer a perfect first person perspective of the cover. On this book, embossed with intricate ornate lettering is the words “Action Packed Wrestling.” Slade opens the book and the camera zooms in.

“Once upon a time in a wrestling federation that turns out to be this specific one, there was a young man, a Main Man who walked with legends, whose name was whispered in stories with heroes. He was a hero, the knight in shining armor who stood for truth justice and all that American Bullshit. This long forgotten Main Man was a mystery, an enigma who sought a place to hang his hat. Slade Craven wandered endlessly from one wrestling federation to another. He began by first setting foot in the Extreme Championship Fatal Wrestling back in 2008. It was the first time Slade’s name began circulating around the Expert’s realm.

Unlike the fabled Yggdrasil, the Experts is a real cosmos of wrestling. Held inside this network of federations were many powerful warring realms; ECFW being one of them. Several superstars fought for ECFW and Slade was one of them. Then one day ECFW declared its war was over and the realm was closing itself off. Before the gateway closed ECFW named its last legendary warriors to be welcomed into the Valhalla of Fame: Slade was one of them.

However, Slade refused to stop fighting; it was not his time to rest. “The Main Man” set out, journeying down the road apiece looking for another realm to swear his allegiance to. His travels took him to World Attitude Wrestling with Jus Huntly. It was a tumultuous world full of volatile volcanos and brutal gladiators. Slade was right at home. But this world was slowly dying, just like ECFW. Craven fought hard to preserve the realm but to no avail.

The final war was devastating. Barely anyone survived. Slade crawled from the wreckage of the world and back into the floating cosmos of the Experts. For weeks Slade laid adrift in the vast open space as a free agent. He spent time recovering, healing from the damage caused by WAW’s implosion. After a few weeks “The Main Man” got restless. It wasn’t long before Cabin Fever set in and Slade began his journey yet again.

The next realm that welcomed Slade Craven with open arms was Dangerous Under-rated Wrestling and its owner: Dave Johnson. DUW was quiet little realm carving its name into the Expert’s cosmos. People there frolicked to and fro fighting for the newly developed championships. Craven had no interest in the belts instead he sought to establish himself as a great general and guardian to this newly founded realm.

Craven’s lust to brawl brought many battles to DUW’s front door.

After the fall of DUW, Slade finally found his way to Action Packed Wrestling in early 2009. It was greatest gladiatorial pit Craven could ever fall into. Everyone there was a brutal brawler. Slade couldn’t have been happier.”

The camera cuts back to the Craven sitting in front of the fire place. Slade closes the book and looks up at the camera. He takes a moment to reload his pipe. Craven smirks at the camera.

“My, isn’t this just the happiest tale ever?” A disgusted look plastered across his face. “If you ask me I think this story needs a little more violence.”

Craven’s face twists to a maniacal grin. He strikes a match and takes a big puff from him pipe. Slade opens the book again.

“Hrm, violence,” Slade mutters as he skims the next few pages, “Let’s see...nope not violent enough. Blah, blah, blah. Random moment on Conan O Brian. Something about the Ark of the Covenant. Boy does this Slade ever do anything fun? Huh, well there’s a headline, being set on fire.”

He continues flipping through pages quickly one right after the other. Finally he stops somewhere mid-book.

“Ah here we go; Survive and Conquer 2009. That’s the ticket.” Slade takes a moment to skin before he continues reading now we see the imaginary world Slade is reading about...

In this magical fairytale world we see Slade Craven, much frailer than he is in real life. Slade is a skinny Elijah Wood looking little bitch who struggles to walk. ‘Craven’ stumbles, barely able to keep himself upright. In front of him is a sandpit surrounded by shirtless monks with red head wraps on their faces. A dragon emblem is carved into the stone wall behind them. Skinny Slade staggers to the edge of the circle. Inside, several other warriors battle trying to throw one another out of the circle. Then a bell rings and an announcer screams: MORTAL KOMBAT!

Raving techno music plays as another warrior barrels to ringside attacking scrawny Slade. The man is dressed like Shang Tsung he grabs the puny Main Man and begins pummeling him. This continues as the music continues to blare- Slade getting his ass beat to a soundtrack.

“Okay enough of that shit.” The camera returns to the hearth where Slade has once again slammed the book shut. “Jesus, that Slade was nothing but a bitch: entering in at number twenty two and barely able to make it through seventeen other warriors.”

Slade puts the pipe down and stands up. Without a second through Slade tosses the book into the fire place.

“That’s history I’m destroying. Pathetic worthless history. No I am sure many of you at home are wondering: Slade why would you bore us with that dribble? Because you needed to understand what Slade Craven was never meant to be- weak. I hate to admit that a sniveling little shit could ever be called Slade “The Main Man” Craven.

What could cause a man to be burdened with such problems? What would make him so weak? Well there were a few reoccurring factors in all those stories. Slade kept picking half ass federations to try fight for. But while the house he picked to build wasn’t worth a shit. The real reason was because Slade wanted to be a hero. Heroes are pussies. They never get to have any fun and they are ALWAYS getting their ass kicked. Look at every superhero, the bad guys always dominate them throughout the majority of the movie, TV show or comic strip until the hero gets one gleaming moment to overcome the odds. Then what happens? More villains appear!

Heroes never get the job done. No matter how hard they try the bad guys, they just keep coming and for some fucked up reason they are always stronger than the last one.

I got tired of being the hero folks. You all saw it, I fought and I never gave up. I still haven’t, I just realized that being a super villain would result in fewer asskickings.”

Behind Slade the storybook burns. It is fueling the fire nicely. Slade’s long history slowly turns to smoke and ash.

“Take a long look people. This is your future, the fire. Ninety nine logs to slow roast over an open flame and one star to break from the fire. Who better than the light bearer himself? That’s right. Despite being that insignificant little maggot three years ago I still made it to the last ten. Moreover I still was able to eliminate the freshest and last som-bitch to enter the match! That is the fire I’m talking about people...”

The book in the fireplace explodes behind Slade Craven letting out a green and purple hiss of smoke. The chimney collapses and through the cloud the viewer can see white and blue lasers lining Slade Craven. A strobe light goes off to get all the happy epileptics at home all sorts of seizure-y.

“Heroes fall, kingdoms burns and planets die, but the Main Man will last forever and I’ll tell you why. I have endured concussions, destruction, pain and being set on fire; yet I am still here. This is why I will always survive; now it is my time to conquer. I have to make it through the entire breadth of this match and this is my moment to prove it. Last time I partook in the grand Survive and Conquer battle royal I lasted through till the end. Last Sunday night I came within millimeters of winning. No matter what you think of me you have to recognize that I am the forgotten one in APW. And that changes now! “

The smoke fades as Slade stands there breathing hard. The robe is gone; he has donned his ring rear. Slade stands covered in ashes. With his head tilted downward, Craven casts his eyes up, peering through his draping dyed hair and looking evilly at the camera. Slade is slowly feeling hatred swelling inside him. It is slowly consuming him and Slade does not care.

*************************************************************************************

Ninety nine bodies for me to throw out, ninety nine bitches for me! Grab one’s ass and launch them on out, ninety eight bitches for me to toss out!

I could go on singing that forever, but boy would it get old fast. Instead, I just want to say Aubrey J. Parker, you cheating whore. We all know your feet touched the ground. You want to pull a skin of the cat? That’s fine there more than one way to peel a pussy. You just reminded me that even if I don’t want to, I still sometimes hold back when I shouldn’t. Let me thank you by gifting your sweet ass to the first row. I’ll find some really overweight, drunk, gingivitis ridden rugby team to toss you to. I’m sure they will give you the full tour too!

Stupid bitch; isn’t it just like a woman to let a man do all the work? Look at what happened I was living true to my word ejecting everyone from that Battle Royal Sunday night and you go and do that crap? I mean I thank you guys for the ‘help’ with Raab, I could have hurt myself trying to life that fat tub of shit. Still it’s not cool. There I was keeping my promise cleaning house a job you need to learn how to do and you Ms. Parker just refused to listen.

Take a lesson from Stefan Raab, he finally listened to me. For the past month I’ve been telling that lily livered codpiece that he needs to GTFO and what does he do: Decides to represent a different federation for Survive and Conquer. Maybe when this is all over we will finally be rid of his ass once and for all.

Raab I’m sure you’re still hoping for President Jeff to accept your challenge at Rasslemania, let it go. What good is your participation? Well you will provide the audience with a decent laugh. Still this is a serious business, jokes like you don’t belong. I know why you want to win. You want the money. Hell you need it, when Jeff finally fires your ass you won’t be drawing unemployment. No contractual jobs do not pay benefits. Sure you might think you could take you happy ass to the German unemployment line and draw that sweet 60% of your standard pay, no sir. You signed a contract and when Jeff gets smart and terminates that thing you will be penniless. I can only hope we’re in Siberia when he does it though.

Jair Hopkins, my first ejection Sunday night. You got the longest wait until I remove you again, don’t fret you’ll be in the ring the same amount of time as you were Sunday.

Big baby Bailey, I waited all week for you to show up at the arena and you didn’t shake my hand? Hell no! I saw you talking to Jair, Raab and Aubrey backstage but you didn’t have the respect to say anything to me? How about now asshole? I promised to hurt you, I promised Sunday would not be your night and I promise that tonight I will eliminate you as well. How dare you disrespect me like that, I am a legend in this business! I will teach you some respect; you and the rest of your animal friends, your Dying Breed. You’re dying out just like I predicted. Lost you tag team titles eliminate by APW’s yearlong joke and now what do you have left, absolutely nothing. It’s my time now Bailey, you’re finished.

Sunday was a just a warm up. Yes I planned to win that match and I was pretty pissed that she snaked by with her win. Women. You’re so fucking wily. There’s a lot of you bitches in this match tonight. You girls with your slutty outfits and fake tits: why doesn’t President Jeff just install a stripper pole? Sure would make the backstage area a bit livelier. Come on Jeff, you liked my proposal for the new APW health plan, I’m chock full of wonderful APW ideas.

Yeah but you won’t listen. No one want’s to listen to Slade, I’m just a jabbering idiot. Piss off. Tonight is about proving people wrong, it’s about doing something I should have had the heart to do two years ago. I can’t believe that I was ever so weak; I hate to think about this past year. It’s outright sucked.

Slade Craven left APW as a weakling, he’s returned as a weakling, no more. It’s too cliche to say that 2013 is my year, instead I just plan to make it a better one. I plan to do that by beating as many of you as humanly possible.

Starting with Biggs! Biggs last time we fought one another I got to give you another concussion. Thank you for that. It’s nice to know the first person coming out is one of the few people to fall to me this year. What’s more is, I finally get the chance to do to you what I did to your boy Chris Cyrus two years ago. Let’s see you shuffle your stupid ass down to the ring and get eliminated within a matter of seconds. That would just hit the spot too!

You know what’s really pathetic, that there are one hundred people in this match and not even a fourth of those participants are from this federation. This roster is huge and most of you were too busy to jump into the fray? Twenty four that’s it? You know out of the other seventy six people that have signed up I am very happy to see one legendary name in all of this. The Black Death himself.

Dude! You are the thorough bred stallion that Anthony has been looking for. Jeez looking at you, it’s like a gorilla banged Schwarzenegger I can’t think of anyone as powerful you. You are a brutal bad mother-okay I’ll shut my mouth.

Two years ago when I made my first journey into the Expert’s world I saw that he was the True Expert. Soon after, he was toppled by Level One. I had the privilege of fighting Level One multiple times and every time I have taken him to the limit. Fighting you will be an endurance trial, man am I looking forward to that. I hope you’re not as big a pussy as Bailey and Hopkins. I promise man, just cause I’m from Texas I won’t string you from a tree. There isn’t a tree in this world that could support your two ton ass. Taking you down will be the crown jewel of my career.

There are plenty of challenges in this match. Logan Alexander, Sally Talford and even Terry Marvin too. You know I had a brother once that looked like him? Every time I see Terry Marvin I want to beat my brother’s ass.

Winning this match is the fastest way to prove that I am the top Megastar in APW. No waiting for a shot at the fat slob Phil Atkin. You see I’ve had a lot of people talking at me this past week, a bunch of people all lining up to tell me how insignificant I am. I know why. Deep down you all are afraid. You know my history, you know that I have been in this business for well over a decade, I have a pile of skulls in my bedroom, one for each person I’ve laid waste to. This past year all of you have done everything to beat me and keep me down because you’re afraid. You know that once “The Main Man” lets loose all of you will fall.

Fear, it’s powerful second only to hatred. And you’ll hate me. I revel in the fact that you’ll revile me. The feeling is intoxicating. I can smell the fear on every member of APW in this match. The rest of you, you will know me when this is over. The legend that is Slade Craven will exist again folks and this time it will never die.

Survive and Conquer five years running. And that’s why I am in APW. I went through five wrestling federations in a single year, and not a one of them was able to contain my greatness. APW’s foundation is the only one that can support a wrestler of my skill, my merit. And now that I’m back I plan on staying. I understand now! I get it. You wanted to get rid of me, you were scared! All of you, frightened by the might of “The Main Man.” When I returned at Rasslemania you knew that if you didn’t drive me out as soon as possible I would wreak havoc, and walk all over each and every one of you! So you beat me down, you oppressed me in every way possible. No more! “The Main Man” went through hell during his first stint in APW and left soon after New Year's Retribution, The Survive and Conquer of 2010, but not this time! This time I will rise above, it’s my time to shine! This Megastar is burning bright bitches and all of you will burn before my light!

*************************************************************************************

[Michael Jennings]

Two weeks ago…

A man walks into the old, decaying occult book store The Wandering Raven just off of Main Street at about a half past noon. The man is named Crow Corvus. He is wearing a Crow mask and all black garb as he walks into the store. The teller, an older man who doesn’t like the younger generation and mistakes him to be some sort of Emo-Goth skinny jeans wearing punk, looks over with disdain. He grumbles under his breath before going back to reading the book he was reading beforehand. Crow reaches up and takes off his hat before removing his Crow mask to reveal the face of a Native American man who doesn’t seem too out of the ordinary. He strolls over to the counter and pulls out a small paper from his jacket. The teller looks up from his book to see that the man wants something.

Teller: Hello, sir.

Corvus: Yes, do you have the Galactic Alignment 2012 book that I ordered?

Teller: Your name, sir?

Corvus: Corvus, Crow Corvus.

He hands the teller the scrap of paper which the teller inspects curiously.

Teller: Yes, we have your book. Give me a minute, sonny. I’ll be right back.

The teller goes over to the stack of books labeled ‘Ordered’ and looks through the orders before finding the book Crow ordered. He then brings it over to Crow to inspect.

Teller: Here it is, The Galactic Alignment and the Spirit World. Interesting book with all kinds of fascinating information especially in regards to the Northern Lights and their connection to the spirit world.

Crow looks at him after finishing inspecting the book.

Corvus: Looks fine. Thank you. It will be most helpful on my quest.

The teller looks a bit perplexed.

Teller: What quest?

Corvus: The quest to find the source of all dark matter in the universe.

Teller: Oh…

There is an awkward silence as Crow puts his book away in his jacket and puts his mask and hat back on before walking out there door leaving the teller shaking his head.

Teller: Damn kids.

----
Last week…

During his travels Crow Corvus comes across a county fair somewhere in the middle of North Dakota. However the Ferris wheel isn’t what interests him. It’s the ring in the center of the fair that has two costumed men fighting in it. His curiosity piqued, he goes over and talks to a tobacco chewing cowboy who seems to be the promoter of this organization.

Corvus: What is this…


Corvus: What kind of fighting is this?

The man chuckles to himself before responding, amused by the man wearing the crow mask.

Man: This here’s a ‘rasslin’ show.

He then stops and gives the man a look.

Man: You ever been to one of these, stranger?

Corvus: No I have not.

The cowboy seems amused by this response.

Man: You got a crazy get’up there, fella. Are you some kind of freak or something?

He gives the man a look before shaking his head.

Corvus: No I am not. I am a paranormal investigator.

Man: Ah…you’re not one of those nutjobs, are ya?

Crow looks over and shakes his head.

Corvus: No. I’m just a normal guy with normal problems. And I like this wrestling thing a lot…

-----

Today…

The scene opens with Crow Corvus standing in front of an abandoned barn somewhere in the central part of Montana underneath a dreary, overcast sky. He looks at the camera before addressing the audience.

Corvus: This week I compete in Survive and Conquer…

He stops for a moment before continuing.

Corvus: Survive and Conquer. Now let’s analyze that for a second.

Corvus: This is a match filled with all sorts of stars from all over the wrestling universe. APW regulars dot the landscape as do top level talents from all over the world. Nick Watson is in the first entrant into the fray. He will have to do we he must to survive this vicious contest. Same with AJ Fairchild. They have the toughest route to the win of all. They won’t make it.

He stops for a moment to laugh under his breath before continuing.

Corvus: I hear Branden Harvey is back for this. From what I hear he is like Hop Frog from the old Edgar Allan Poe story of the same name. A troublesome midget with only his viciousness to keep him going. After that is Biggs, who is a big name around these parts but another egomaniac nonetheless. A lot of APW guys and guys from all over the place after that including Mark Mania, Reya Serra, and Johnny Rebel. Rebel is one of the top guys around here and he is a legend. After that there’s a scattered amount of stars mixed in with low level stars that everyone is overlooking. Guys like Jake Winchester, Reiha Lane, Jerry McClean, Donovan Davenport, Scorpio, Kid Dynamo, Rowyn Starr, Bryan Deas, Trent Stone, Domingo Cruz, JJ Johnson, Vannah White, Pat Gordon, Jr., Black Death, Chris Shields, JT Cash, and Leon Stone. Sally Talfourd, Terry Marvin, Roy Speede, Young Mannie, and Johnny Knuckles are mixed in there as the stars of APW. This is what I see. A challenge of ultimate proportions. And a challenge involving egos…

He then stops to get himself composed before continuing with what is going on.

Corvus: All I am seeing thus far from the competitors in this is a lot of talk. Talk and talk and more talk that is basically ego stroking at its finest. If this match was about egos then there’d be ninety nine winners right now because I am not going to do that. I am not going to come on here and start talking about how great I am. I am not going to start talking smack that would normally be heard on a middle school playground in Anytown, U.S.A. That’s just not me.

He stops talking for a moment to motion around to the dark, melancholy surroundings around him.

Corvus: Look at where I choose to spend my time. I’m not one of these guys who comes on the television in some sort of a party scene somewhere in Las Vegas or some other place like that. It’s been shown over and over and over again. Lots of zombies out there. It’s like the zombie apocalypse did happen but only in the wrestling business. It’s just a bunch of zombies in this match and I am in essence the Last Man on Earth who is here to save the last remnants of humanity from the monsters that have replaced civilization. That is why I must Survive and Conquer. That is why I must win. I have to do it to save us all from what wrestling has become and what it is now. I must be the change that saves the sport before it’s too late…

Conquer and Survive, that is what I shall do.

He slowly turns and walks off screen as the scene fades to black.

[blackdeath]

Armor of the Dragon

I thought I left that life behind me; I no longer want it. I help save this world many times over and I just wanted to be left alone. Even when I think that I am out for good there always something that draws me back in. It was hard for me to understand that you are never truly out and there will always be evil men that do evil deeds and there has be good men that must stop them. For me it started again with a phone call and I was drawn back into a world that I thought I left behind for good.

That damn ringing of the phone woke me from my sleep that morning. I could not remember what dream I had the previous night, but something told me I should have remembered it. Reaching over I grab the phone, looking over to see my wife still sleeping beside me, she was in deep sleep undisturbed by the ringing of the phone. Damn I wish I could sleep like that, I cradle the phone to my ear and speaking into it with my sleep heavy voice.

“This better be good, you know how early it is right now.” I look over to the clock it read six o’clock

Hearing the voice on the phone, I know who it was the instant that he started to speak to me. “James I am truly sorry to disturb you this early but I need to talk to you right away. “

“Daniel …Daniel Webster, I don’t want to get back into that life again … the answer is no, whatever you want the answer is no.” I had to keep my voice down I did not want to wake up Lisa with all my yelling.

“James, please meet with me, hear what I have to say after that if you want to walk away you can do that, but please least meet with me and hear me out you owe me that.

He was right, I did owe him “Daniel last time I got an early morning phone call from you I found out that I had a daughter I never knew about, you and morning phone calls are trouble. But you are right I due owes you… ok, were do you want to meet?”

“Breakfast at the normal place, 8 am ok, thank you” Daniel hung up on his end.

I hang up the phone and get out of the bed, heading over to the bathroom. Damn I not going to get involve anymore no matter what he tells me, it not my job to help save the world anymore. It does not hurt to listen to him I owe that to him. Have a little breakfast, hear what he has to say, decline his offer and then say good bye, that all that going to happen.

How so wrong I was.

The normal place was a restaurant in the Harrah’s casino, I like the place for it steak and eggs. I get there around 8 am and Daniel is already there. Webster is kind nerdy looking with glasses and spenders and nice suit, wavy curly black hair , He look like a accountant , never judge a book by its cover , you never know that underneath that entire quiet exterior, it rage and righteous fury inside waiting for an excuse to get out. He not a man you should fuck with… trust me on that.

I sit down at the table; we don’t speak, but order our food from the waitress. After she walks away I get down to it with him.

“So Daniel, what is this problem that you have, let me know quickly, so I can say no, eats and breaks on out of here.”

“James I just need you to get in touch with your contacts in the Asian community in Los Angles, that it simple, you has contacts that we do not have. We need help, we need to find an item of great value and we are getting stone walled there.

“So that it, just need me to get in touch with my people …why me Daniel, you would have better connections than I.”

“Normally yes, but item is something different, you spent a lot of time overseas and made a lot of friends and a lot of enemies, you can get the info faster than us and we need it ASAP.

I shake my head, I know there something he not telling me, but I cannot resist helping a friend in need. “Ok, I will do this, but I going to have to know what I am looking for. “

“It a piece of armor for the sun emperor Han in the Dragon Dynasty. It was stolen two day ago and we have info that it somewhere in LA at the moment ready to be move to whoever finance the job.”

“A piece of armor huh , not again , The Mars thing almost killed me and now I going to look for a Dragon Armor , this is not good . “

Daniel laughs at me “ you are not going in to get it just let us know where it is at , we will get it , that all you got to do , see that why I wanted to meet with you , it a small job and you are the only one that can pull it off .”

“So let me guess, ancient armor, wear gets granted powers beyond belief right … There seem to a lot of those things floating around.

“What can I say demons tend to leave there stuff around a lot and mortals tend to play with them a lot. But this armor is no such thing, it has great value to a friend and they want it back. So you will help us right?”

“Yeah I am on it, I have the info to you by tonight, it not going to be that hard and I don’t have to go get it well I am happy with that. Like I said after the Mars job, the world does not need me to save it anymore”

Oh how wrong I was.

The Three Most Difficult things are ….

Hello, Fans of APW, Black Death here. But you can call me James. I am talking to you now because unless you have been heading under a rock for the last few weeks you know Survive and conquer is around the corner and it is the biggest one yet. Over 100 wrestlers are going to be a part of this. It is hard to fathom all those wrestlers in one ring… but it going to happen and I am going to be a part of it. History in the making.

Now, I know that many of you fans in APW don’t know who I am. So I am going to introduce myself to you all. My real name is James Wallace and I was born in Las Vegas, NV and this is where I currently reside. . I am marrying to a wonderful woman name Lisa; we don’t have any children at the moment, but hope for some in the near future. I do have a daughter, but is not Lisa‘s child. It a long story, but I will make it short, I met a woman in Japan on my first wrestling tour when I was 16 years old. We had a short affair, I did not know about Jade until 16 years later when her mother died and I was to take care of her. She is also a damn good wrestler in her own right. /I have older brother and a younger brother. I don’t see my older brother anymore and my younger brother is not in his right mind. That another long story.

I have been in this game for a long time; I have won many titles, from TV titles to hardcore titles to World titles. But the ones title that I am been proud of winning and holding is the True Experts title. I am the only man to ever hold the True Experts title three times and I am the Charter member of the Experts hall of fame. I am very proud of this and “I like to talk about it all the time. I am easy going guy that like to read and make things when I am not in the Wrestling ring trying to crave someone skull in.

Now that you something about me, let me explain the philosophy that I live by, so you can better understand me

For me it not about the winning, but about the work, the challenge. I can only grow as a person if I go out live life and take on challenges. To me life is a test, and I only fail if I believe that I cannot past the test. You are only defeated when you thing that you are defeated. You want to know what the three most difficult things are …

To keep a secret

To forget an injury

To make good use of leisure



To hold moral conduct as absolute might be to hold that action is described in any old way. It might be to hold that action described in certain ways is applicable to all at all times. To hold it as relative , might be to hold it as the various function of time , geographic climate , social and economical needs , religious beliefs , etc. To hold it as relative might be to hold that the expression of right conduct might mean right conduct is the dictate of public interest, etc. To hold it as absolute might be to hold that expressing right conduct can be defined invariably.

Humility leads to honor … Humility forms the basis of honor, just as the low ground forms the foundation of a high elevation.

I hope that made some sense … but I think I need to get to the heart of the matter, the reason that I am talking to you all today. Survive and Conquer match. Honestly is something I like to be at all times. I know you have heard, all these wrestlers talk about how tough they are, how they are going to win. How this person is bad, or this person not as good as them. I am going to be honest. I don’t think I am going to win. Yeah I said it. There are just some many wrestlers in this match odds are long on me and truth; I might not last past 90 n… I come in at 88 spot which is a good spot, but there still good wrestlers that are going to be in the match and they’re going to be so many more coming in. do I going to be realize, I going to fight my butt off, try to throw as many people out of the ring as quickly as I can, before I get toss over the rope.

So everyone this Sunday show is going to be about fun. I going to enjoy the sheer mass of wrestlers in the ring and I are going to kick ass. Winning, not really concern with that. If it happens it happens, but having a good time is something I have full control over. You will be able to see one of the great in the ring. Might be one of the last times you get to see me in the ring. I am not sure how long I am going to be doing this. It is getting tougher and tougher to get out of bed to wrestle. But matches like this makes me still love this game. So Come to the show on Sunday and watch the man who made the Experts special.

I am Black Death, I am the Truth and the rest are just lies.

[dorling]

Time and time again you said
To be the best
To be the best
The only voice I need to hear is yours

But now
The years have past without your help
And I
Have made an empire my friend
Do you remember when

Every time I looked around
I’d see your face?
And know my place
But now I’m to face numerous threats

One hundred
Is my new number for this test
This test
And now
I will compete to be the best
The best I am



You see, it didn’t take years of training and education to be me. No. I was born a winner and a winner I will be until the very day that I die. Of all of the things I’ve achieved, it is in the most abstract of accomplishments I often find my pleasure, but a challenge such as this with such an obvious prize, such a benefit to me and all that I stand for, is hard to ignore.

You don’t go against the grain when the grain pays a million dollars folks. Hell no. You have to work an angle, get yourself in the game.

Once you’re in, that’s when you can start to swim against the tide, turn peoples heads, work off beat. You don’t sign up for the biggest match in our business just so you can look and sound like everybody else.

It’s about Evolution.

It’s about picking this world up by the scruff of its neck and dragging it kicking and screaming into the next millennium.

It’s about looking at a number and knowing that you’re more.

Knowing that a number is an irrelevance in a field of beige. A field of bland. A field of yawn.

Take a look around and tell me what you see – tell me about the ‘bad ass’ men and the girls that don’t like being treated like girls. Tell me about the muscle bound freaks and the spot monkeys and women that dress like sluts but spend all of their time saying they don’t act like it. Tell me about the useless list of accolades, the titles in places that maybe never existed, the awards from people who I maintain are not qualified to distribute anything more than pizza.

Tell me that even though you look, act, sound and even smell the same as the rest of this pack of xerox’d monkeys, you are different, you are special, you are the one that is going to rise above the hate and tyranny and take the prize.

Tell me why you think I should be afraid of you, why you are better than me, why nobody knows what you’re really capable of. Tell me that, despite the fact I have no idea who you are, you are my worst nightmare and will haunt my dreams and break my body.

Refuse to acknowledge the fact that you are human and have flaws. Deny the existence of pain receptors in your body and proclaim to me that you are in fact some kind of machine that has an appetite only for the flesh of your enemies, taking them in, chewing them up and spitting them out in the form of a foot stool.

List the people that, like you, I don’t give a shit about. Tell me that, not only are you better than me, but that these people are somehow legends of my game and that they could crush so you – you must be some kind of god because, catch me as I faint, you have beaten them. You have ruined their good name that I didn’t even know before.

Watch on in horror as literal queues of people form at your unwashed feet, somehow not acknowledging their fear of you. How is this so? How have your mega words failed?

Because YOU are a failure. Not winning this match is a failure. And YOU are NOT winning this match.

Now cry, sob as the reality of the situation dawns on you. Remember why you entered. Think back to the foolishness of your decision. Think back to your naivety. Focus on your mistake.

You can’t back out now. The embarrassment will surely be worse than the physical pain in prospect. Forever, you will be the man or woman that ran, the one that proclaimed their brilliance but punched your own ticket to get out of the dance.

99 of you. All trapped. All bound by the contract you have signed and all destined for the same crushing disappointment.

Because this is Dorling. This is the man that runs the baddest wrestling company on the planet. The man that shed his trainers and friends to achieve more than you can ever imagine.

This is the man that you’re all looking at with confusion, the man who has a plan, the man who you KNOW is going to threaten your ongoing participation in this match. The man that I look at in the mirror and wonder how it ever got to be this good.

You see, there was a time when a man tried to educate me, tried to impart wisdom on me. But he couldn’t. I didn’t need his help and advice, I didn’t want my development tainted by the ideas of another. I grew organically, I progressed as my own man – I turned into my own beast. Countless times I have seen what I wanted and taken it. Cars, women, breakfast cereals, baked goods, SCW – all have been mine.

Now it is time to take what I want once again. This time, I want 1 million dollars and to be top of the pile at Survive and Conquer.

But you don’t believe that, right? Why would you? I just explained at length just how full of bullshit we, as wrestlers, tend to be. So as I’ve got you listening, I thought maybe I’d tell you a little story instead. An insight into me and my mind perhaps. An explanation that could possibly show you why your stereotypical big talk and threats won’t work on me. A lesson in why I am far more dangerous than I look.

I will tell the story. You will likely ignore it. Then I will be victorious and have a new story to tell.

So, it all ended here.

(Finally some cinematography! We pan out to see me standing by some large rocks out in the desert. I have a shotgun in my hand.)

Well, for some people anyway. It’s a tale of cunning and a lack of mercy. But it begins with a man having lost his way.

You see, back in ’08, I wasn’t in the biz anymore. I had quit my previous company – I won’t tell you the name because you don’t give a shit about random letters. I was lost, I was drunk – I was bored. I found my way to Vegas, a city that I now call home, and I was intent on having a good time. I danced with hot women, I drank the finest tequila, I drove the nicest cars and I gambled like a monster. Poker is a game I’m good at, sometimes a little too good, if you know what I mean?

You see the trick with counting cards and getting away with it is to make sure you lose. Throw a few grand down the drain to make sure people know you’re not a machine. Oil the cogs in preparation for the big one. If you do it right and you can earn a steady income. You won’t be raking in the millions but you can be comfortable.

But gambling is a harsh business. Winning is both an addiction and a poison. It’s human nature – you get sloppy, you get greedy. It’s greed that got me into a mess – well that and a spectacular lack of ability to pick my moments – and it’s greed that ended up getting me out.

(Let’s just adjust the scene a little bit. I walk over to the red desert rock and take a seat. That’s better.)

I was making a name for myself on the gambling circuit. You know the drill; playing in filthy back rooms of clubs and bars, meeting a bunch of random guys out in warehouses. The whole seedy deal. The trouble with seedy back room poker games is that you tend to meet seedy back room type characters. There were a dime a dozen and they all remembered the guy with the British accent. A blessing and a curse, because when I started getting greedy I wasn’t hard to find.

I started playing with some big time guys. Casino owners, international business men, politicians and of course, guys who made a lot of money but didn’t pay many taxes, if you know what I mean? So there’s this guy, he’s called Big Jimmy – I don’t know a lot else. But he’s got money and he’s got influence. People are scared of him. I was on a roll and I was downing the rum the night I met him. It was a table of hard men, save for myself, and I got the taste of winning.

So I kept counting and counting until Big Jimmy’s chips were gone. But he’s a thug, a crook, a gangster – he doesn’t like to lose. So he throws down this jewellery, all kinds of bling. I take that too. I walk away, money filling my pockets and bling all over the place.

But there's a rat, somebody who noticed what I was up to and before I know it I have people following me, guys looking through my trash, intercepting my post. I didn't have a clue, I was on top of the world man. Then one night I got a knock at the door.

Big Jimmy.

He wants his $20k back. He wants his jewellery – that he values at another $50k – sentimental value or something. Trouble is, I sold it. Gone. I don't even remember who to. Jimmy gives me five days and points to his buddy Alfredo – a bad ass Mexican with a penchant for knife play. I got the message.

You may wonder how I got from owing a mob man a lot of money to being the General Manager of Sin City Wrestling. Well...I'm getting there, give it time.

I'm a reader, an educated man. I know about the history of Vegas and I know about the greed of men. So I spent some cash on some tacky gold jewellery and I headed out here, just outside Reno. You're probably not very clued up on the past of Golden Fleece Mine, are you? You're not readers like I am. Well, it was big in the Gold Rush, and I mean big – and it's just a couple of miles away over there. Once the profitability of the mine became too low for the bigwigs, they left.

To pull of this scam, you've got to be a confident guy and, despite where I was, I'm always confident. So I did what any guy in a tight spot should do – I played it as I saw it.

You geniuses ever heard of salting the mine? No? Of course you haven't. It goes a little like this:

• You get some gold, the cheaper the better
• You grind it down into dust
• You put the dust in a shotgun cartridge
• You shoot the ground
• You shoot the rocks
• You shoot everything

Have you figured it out yet? Well how about you add a violent but not massively intelligent Mexican hitman into the mix? That's right, the guy blessed with knife skills but not a high IQ. He was very interested when I told him I knew a sure fire way for him to get in his boss' good books with some serious cash potential.

I brought him here, I told him about the mine at Golden Fleece. I told him about my love of the history, I told him about my passion for Gold. I told him that, against all the odds, I had discovered a new vein of Gold just two miles from Golden Fleece. I showed him, all over the place there was gold, woven deep into the rock. A literal goldmine awaited the big man.

So I sold him the idea. He bought my debt from me and promised Big Jimmy a big score. It was steady going for a couple of weeks, I’m sure they thought that once they dug down further they’d hit pay dirt, so to speak, but they didn’t. It was 3 weeks to the day after I sold Alfredo the land when he was found dead in the back of a burning vehicle just outside Vegas. Probably suicide.

Or not.

Big Jimmy visited me after that, turns out he was impressed with my trick, and let me know something in no uncertain terms:

I was free to live, but if I ever placed another bet in a Vegas casino he’d make sure it was the last thing I did. I even helped him get his jewellery back.

(More cinematics! I stand up and begin walking, the camera tracking me as I hold the shotgun over my shoulder.)

You see, that’s the kind of man you’re dealing with here ladies and gents. I’m not going to run around beating up jobbers or members of the public. I’m not going to complete futile tasks in an effort to show that I have some kind of superhuman ability. I’m not going to trash talk each and every one of you.

No, I’m going to ask you to take a very close look at yourselves. Do YOU have what it takes to best 99 top athletes in the biggest match in Pro Wrestling? Do YOU have the intelligence to work the match efficiently and effectively? Do YOU have the emotional capabilities to build and destroy trust several times during the course of just one match? Will YOU throw somebody else under the buss when it looks like your race is about to be run?

If your answer to any of those questions is no, then you’re in the wrong business. And I dare say if we canvass all 99 of my opponents, there’ll be a fair few answers in the negative.

This isn’t a match for the physically freakish or the testosterone fuelled monkeys of our game, this is a thinking mans match. The kind of match that a smart person wins.

How many of you have tricked one of the most freakishly intelligent and devious people in the world, let alone wrestling, out of a company? I have, and the popcorn machine and throne in what is now my office serves as a reminder of my brilliance. You see, I don’t fear those around me that are inferior in any way. If you combined my intelligence with the size of say, Marko Flins, then you’re in trouble.

But you can’t. None of you can offer that kind of potency to me and therefore none of you incite even the most flickeringly small amount of fear in me. I enter this match as a man who knows that he has a chance of winning, a man that sees nothing but success before him. Well, that and a pile of bodies.

(I get to my jeep and put the shotgun in a case before dropping the tailgate to take a seat.)

You’re looking at the King of Vegas. The ruler of Sin City and the master of his own destiny. I have a kingdom, an empire. I have gladiators that fight in my arena, I have wealth and influence beyond compare, and I RULE at FIFA 13.

When it’s all said and done your efforts are futile because Kings don’t survive.

They conquer.

[Lord Raab]

Playing paint ball with Stefan's friends. London, England. Saturday 26th January.

One day before the Survive and Conquer Pay Per View is on. Stefan decided with a few of his friends, that they would play paint ball for the day, as it would suit a lot of what he had to deal with, for the rumble tomorrow night. They were at a place called Upminster, where they were going to play this game. They were going to play the elimination round of paint ball, which will take them two to three hours to complete.

They also invited a lot of people, who were going to take part in the game as well, to make it exactly the same amount of people, who Stefan had to deal with in, the ring tomorrow on ninety-nine men against Stefan, but they were going to try to eliminate each other as well.

Lately a lot of things have gone on with Stefan, as only Elton knows that Stefan has recently been diagnosed with bi polar, and he had noticed that Stefan started smoking, cigarettes last Wednesday just to help him calm down, from the arguments that he was having on twitter, which seems like it was working really well.

Of course all of his friends were ready to go except for Stefan, who was going to have a cigarette, before he goes to play paint ball, and Elton went with him to have a private word, with Stefan about the smoking business in a smoking shelter, as Raab gets a lighter to light up his fag towards his mouth, as he starts to inhale the cigarette and blows smoke out.

Elton: "What made you want to start smoking Stefan?"

Stefan Raab: "Just being pissed off with everything like everyone in APW, has somewhat been given a chance to have, at least one title shot on Asylum apart, from me."

Elton: "Well for one thing, I am glad that at least you aren't doing drugs, or going back on drinking alcohol, but do you know that smoking can affect......................................"

Stefan Raab: "My health? I know that already Elton. God it's bad enough that a lot of people, have told me this already, even including Jason Kash which funny enough, I didn't think he seemed to care, about me that much."

Elton: "What? Jason Kash actually cared about you, smoking cigarettes on affecting your health? That's a first."

Stefan Raab: "I know but I still think he's an idiot, running his mouth on twitter, while he's suspended. He should consider to do some training, like I was when I got suspended."

Stefan puffs with the cigarette, as he again inhales and blows out a smoke, as it was a way to keep him calm. Elton hated to see Stefan smoking cigarettes, especially that they can kill Stefan, but Elton understands why he was smoking, as it was a lot of stress for Raab at the moment, to get ignored by both Reginald Schmidt and President Jeff, and how unfairly he was being treated, as Elton talks more about that.

Elton: "Yeah I can see exactly what you mean Stefan, that they do treat you as a joke in APW, but in WEW they treat you the same as everyone else, so I really don't blame you for what you did, being against APW but you got to admit that all, the APW stars will be against you, after you did the shirt unveiling."

Stefan Raab: "Which I am expecting to happen, because they love to kiss Hurricane Jeff's backside, something that I am refusing to do. I find it beyond pathetic that Terry Marvin, said that he hates Jeff when he's representing the Hurricane bitch, in the battle royal."

Elton: "Who the fuck is Hurricane Jeff?"

Stefan Raab: "Oh you don't know? The piss taking owner is known as President Hurricane Jeff. I found out very recently from the internet sources, that he used to wrestle under the Hurricane Jeff name, in various wrestling promotions."

Elton didn't really want to ask Stefan this question mainly because, he was so focused with Jeff, and with the upcoming battle royal tomorrow night, but it was something that had been on his mind, for a while now and he begins to ask Stefan, the question while Stefan was smoking on his cigarette.

Elton: "So how's Fizz doing with your baby?"

Stefan Raab: "Everything went great thanks Elton. Fizz had the baby when I was training, in that wrestling camp I told you about while, I was suspended from APW. It ended up being a baby boy, and we ended up calling him Matthäus Jay Raab."

Elton: "Wow. I didn't know that he was already born. Congratulations on becoming a father for the third time."

Stefan Raab: "Thank you. Now let's go and win this game against our mates."

Elton: "I agree. Let's go."

Stefan had one last puff of his cigarette as he throws it on the floor, and stamps on it to let the light go out as Elton, and Stefan put their helmets on, as they had everything else on and they walk up to their friends, and other people who had joined in as all walked into the battlefield, hiding from each other behind trees and wooden boards.

Friends of Stefan had already paid to play paint ball game to play, for two to three hours, as it is going to be quite a long game for them as they all were ready to go, and Stefan being the leader told people to go, and shoot at each other as whoever, gets shot is out of the game as Stefan was hiding, at the moment as he didn't want to be out, of the game first and he knew that, he had the match to talk about, and he was going to introduce himself as he knows, that there are a lot of people in the match, that didn't know anything about him, other than his bio online.

"I guess I'll start introducing myself to those, that don't know me which you all should by now. I am the former German entertainer known as Stefan Raab, and as you can already tell I come from Germany. I come from a place called Cologne, which is near enough, the Western part of Germany. I only started wrestling almost a year ago now, facing off against a man who has been in, the Survive and Conquer battle royal last year, known as Vantage on the eighth of April who I lost to, but I learned a lot from that night on my first match, in a place called World Elite Wrestling, who I have chosen to represent, because I call that place home, more than the pathetic company, of Action Packed Wrestling who have treated me like shit, ever since I got here back in May."

"Three months later. I had another match with a girl, who was also in the, Survive and Conquer match last year, who is well-known as Angelica Monroe, although I started to wrestle in APW as a full-time wrestler first, to gain experience that I lacked of in the first fight, and eventually it lead me winning the match, against all the odds that were stacked, against me with her and now I am training in one of the best, wrestling schools in the world called StarrDome, as well as wrestling for Action Packed Wrestling, and another place called Total Impact Wrestling."

"I'm currently holding five titles at the moment, in Total Impact Wrestling which I won back in early November, when the company was known as, All Star Wrestling Federation. I was proud to win five titles in one night, against a guy called Romeo Valentine, and I had to defeat Chris Wade, and Sean Mendez to go to the finals to face Romeo, which eventually ended up me winning the match."

"Also I held another belt which was my first ever title, back in the StarrDome six days before, the One Night in Hell Pay Per View started, on me brutally defeating Christopher Cruz, to win the StarrDom Global title, which was also my début on the Monday Night StarrDom show, but then a day after One Night in Hell. I lost the Global title, to a girl called Brooklyn Cruz, after being quite beaten up, from the Death match that I had, to take part in."

It was just a brief history of Stefan's wrestling career so far, as he had achieved quite a bit, since he started the wrestling business almost a year ago, as a lot of people forget that he was still, a rookie to the wrestling business. Suddenly while he was going to continue talking, someone tried to shoot Stefan, but missed hitting the wooden plank instead, as Stefan came out from hiding and aimed for the man, who was shooting at Stefan, and he got him in the chest which eliminated him, from the paint ball match.

Stefan Raab: "Son of a bitch, trying to eliminate me while I was talking."

Elton: "Come on Stefan. You were hiding for too long, and they were bound to find, you sooner than later. Shoot the mother fucker's, with your paint shots."

Stefan went crazy as he went to shoot at everyone, that he saw that wasn't far from the distance, and he got most of them and then Elton came, and helped Stefan and he eliminated most of the, people as well that were, in their way of their view.

Stefan started to move around quite quickly, with his stamina being at top shape, with the amount of training he had done at the StarrDome, to get him ready for this rumble match.

He had never ever faced this many people, in a wrestling ring before in his life, and he had to be ready for it, especially when a lot of APW stars were, going to get Stefan to be eliminated more than any company, around since he back stabbed Jeff, and APW company as a whole as he continues to speak, while hunting the other paint ball shooters down, to get them eliminated from the game.

"Enough about my introduction crap to you idiots, especially the APW ones who are only in this match, to kiss President Hurricane Jeff's ass. That was something I wasn't going to risk doing, by any means because, I am a true man of my word, that I never liked that cock sucker more after when, he suspended me because he had his so-called security, to protect his ass from getting attacked by me. Come on everyone he's a mother fucking pussy, you all should know that by now, and it's a disgrace that you all are even representing him, and his company especially you Terry Marvin, being a President Jeff hater you claim to be, when actually you seem to kiss his ass just as good, as the rest of the locker room does."

"All I heard people talk about last year is how they were going to win this pathetic event for their loved ones. Nope not me. I don't give a damn about any of you wrestlers, in the match or your family, maybe with the exception of Adrian Jobs and Anthony Bailey but that's about it."

"Also some of the wrestlers last year actually thanked President Hurricane Jeff for arranging this event?"

"What in the blue hell is wrong with you rejects?"

"You don't ever thank him especially, when you are representing for another company. That makes you all being a bunch of sell outs, and a disgrace to your own company, you thick pieces of shit's. He doesn't deserve my respect at all, especially on how much of a dirty pig he has been to me, these last few months and ignoring me as well as of late, on the challenge I put out for him, to face against me at Rasslemania."

Stefan was aiming to shoot at other people, as there was only seventy people left in the war, that they were having against each other, since it's an Elimination round where if you get shot once, then you are out of the competition, and it was for Stefan to relax away from wrestling, that he had trained for all week on the rumble match.

Stefan and Elton were near enough spot on with their targets, missing only a few rounds with their game, as sometimes they were on the floor or crouching down, and eventually it would have to lead them shooting against each other.

Elton: "You know that we will have to shoot against each other, when we are done with the other army members right?"

Stefan Raab: "Of course I do stupid. That's what the game is about. It's gotten messy already with paint covered all over the forest, fields and even these wooden planks have, gotten a lot of paint on them as well. They may feel pain but it's worth it. Let's gun the rest down, while I have another cigarette."

Stefan protects himself behind the wooden plank, to get one of his cigs out of the box, and then lights up and blows a smoke as it, made him feel happy when he smokes a cigarette, especially when he aims to shoot at the enemies, that were up against him. He was loving to see people suffer in pain, as that's exactly what he had to put up against tomorrow night.

"I betrayed you Jeff, well sort of considering that WEW was my first wrestling company that I signed and wrestled for, but you should have seen it coming. Alakai Burke who is the owner of World Elite Wrestling, asked me first on if I wanted to represent WEW in the APW battle royal, and do you know what I said?"

"I said yes and that I will do him proud. That was when I had to back stab you, because I had to get your attention one way or another, so you know that I am serious as hell, on wanting to face against you at Rasslemania. You know a lot of wrestlers would hate that they would, get attacked from behind by you. In my case, I beg of you to attack me because, at least I know you see me as a threat, and that I know the match between us is on, but enough on me talking about you, and for me to move to other things."

Stefan stopped talking for a while, as he had another puff of his cigarette. He sees there are fifty people left standing, including himself and Elton that were still in the running, to win the game. He hadn't really talked that much about the rumble, or his placing of the number that he has been drawn at, as he continues to talk about it while, shooting at more enemies as well as, smoking a cigarette at the same time.

"Now to move to the rumble itself. So I was drawn at number thirty-one a few weeks ago, and I don't really care since it means nothing, other than when to come out. Sure it's a match I never been in the ring with ninety-nine people, nor have I ever even took part in a rumble type match like this before, since I only been wrestling for a few months, but I am sure that I can handle anything, with that amount of people out to get me, especially the Action Packed Wrestling wrestlers because, of what I did on representing World Elite Wrestling over the APW company."

"There is a lot of so-called big names that think, they are the shit when I have never even heard of them, except the APW stars and Adrian Jobs, but maybe I don't give a damn on what happens, in the other companies asides from Total Impact Wrestling and World Elite Wrestling, because they are irrelevant to me especially, the achievements that they have done in other companies, which I don't care about at all, but it just adds an extra bonus on me, beating the living shit out of you all."

"Am I scared of the challenge I am about, to walk into tomorrow night? No I am not because, I am far from being a pussy, when it comes to matches, like this compared to other wrestlers last year, when they have said that they, felt nervous about the upcoming match. No nerves on my end, but maybe that's a German thing that I never ever, got nervous with any match that, I take part in even with the amount, of people who are in this match. I fear nothing going up against a lot of guys and girls, but I have been in matches far worse than this rumble, so to me it's just like an original battle royal, but just with ninety-nine people in the match that's all."

"Many people say that I am a joke in the wrestling business, but I am like everybody else, loving the wrestling business just as much as all of you wrestlers, that are in the match, but only I love to fight more than you all because, I wrestle every single day and there was only one or two weeks, that I haven't wrestled at all and that was during, the Christmas and New Years break but, every other day. I wrestle to become the best wrestler, in the world and I am almost getting there now."

It was like playing war games out in the battlefield of paint ball, that they were playing as for once, Stefan was having fun with his friends and people, who wanted to join in the game, as there was twenty people left to shot, with Stefan's accurate aim is quickly eliminating people, out of the game and with Elton for now being on his team, helping Stefan eliminate the competition, as Stefan finished smoking his second cigarette, and stamps on it to let the smoke go out.

He then continues to shoot against his enemies, that were in his way, and it reminded him a lot about the upcoming rumble match, that was taking place tomorrow night, along with talking more about it.

"Look at some of you wrestlers respecting, one another over on twitter. Makes you look like a right bunch of weak people. I don't need to get respect to wrestle in this match. I aim to get people to hate me even more, than they did before and that's to kick the living shit, out of everybody in the match, even if Adrian Jobs is representing the same company as I am. When it comes to wrestling however, that goes completely out of the window, especially when you are stepping, into the APW land where they will hate our company, more than the others in this match, due to what I did on Asylum last Sunday."

"I wrestle to hurt people, and becoming more known as The Most Hated Man in APW, that I think I achieved on doing last Sunday. I am doing this for Alakai, a true owner that respects everything I do, and a man who can at least defend for himself on twitter, while Jeff is too much of a pussy to do that."

"It's like that game called Metal Gear Solid three, where a woman was defending America, and then she betrayed Snake and chose to represent the Soviet Union, which is almost the situation I am in but do I care about that? No I fucking don't because I aimed, to piss people off within APW, and I guess I have done that, but I want to see how pissed off, the APW stars are when it comes to the match, on Sunday night among other things."

Now it was down to two people left, between Stefan and Elton as they had to move away from each other, as the other eliminated competitors watched them, from the sidelines as things got really messy, with paint all over the place, and both of them still had a lot of paint ammo left in their guns, and it was near enough the three-hour mark, on the amount of time they played elimination paint ball.

Stefan had a lot more things to talk about, with the match as he didn't really care, who he was trash talking about mainly, because he didn't know half of the wrestlers, that were in the match. He ran around the paint ball zone area looking for Elton.

"I think the wrestlers that said that they will, survive and conquer the event last year is complete bullshit. Like seriously you will all still survive, regardless if you get thrown out or not. It's all about being the last person standing, and winning the match not by survival. If it was about that then we would all be out, in the war trying to kill each other, but it's not about that or even anything close to it."

"I am only doing this match for a true company, that have the best wrestlers in the world, and a company that had my back from day one with WEW, because they are my true family to me, and I actually work for that company as well, and have been the entire time that, I have been in APW."

"If you APW stars don't like what I done that is tough, because all of you are meant to go against, each other anyway considering it's every man and women, for him/herself none of you should be friends, and wishing everyone good luck at all. You all are weak for even doing that. I never wish anyone luck in any kind of match at all, because I am not a nice person by any means whatsoever, especially I have been suspended in every company, I have wrestled in except Total Impact Wrestling, and I am proud that I have done that achievement, no matter what you idiots say."

Stefan continues on a hunt for Elton as he was feeling ready to shoot him down as he continues to speak.

"Ninety Nine wrestlers against me sounds pretty nice, especially that everyone is going to be gunning for me, on throwing me over the top rope, which clearly that is not going to happen at all, especially if the APW wrestlers plan to throw me out. In fact it's going to end up a very different story, to the Battle Royal match that happened on Asylum, because unlike all of you. I always have the confidence in myself to win matches, especially in something like this. I walk into Survive and Conquer Pay Per View with everyone in the world, hating my guts which is what I like, seeing that I am the most hated man in APW, more now than I was in the past."

"Now is the time for me to raise up to a new challenge, and that is to throw all of you wrestlers, the fuck out of the ring including Adrian Jobs, and winning not only the match and the money but also from what Alakai told me before, I left the Animosity show that, if I was to win then I would be signing, a full-time wrestling contract to WEW as well. Jeff you better be watching on what, I do to your bunch of ass kisser's, along with the rest of the people, in the rumble as well. Prepare to be Raabinated by The Killerplauze."

Stefan suddenly finds Elton hiding behind the tree, and he shoots him which meant that Stefan, won by eliminating all the shooters, in the game as some of them went home, while Stefan and Elton went straight to Wembley, to look around the area before Stefan, goes to sleep before the next day of winning the match.

TAGS; Everyone in the Survive and Conquer Battle Royal match and President Hurricane Jeff.
WORDS; 4066 without coding and 4291 with coding.
OUTFIT; Paint ball clothes with a helmet on.
NOTES; Good luck to everyone in this match.
CREDITS; FlawlessGFX Exclusive for STEFAN RAAB
LYRICS; “Cannibal” by Static-X

[mcclean]

APW had, as it does every year, got plenty of people in on temporary work for their busiest time of the year: Survive & Conquer. It showed the complete and utter success of the business model they employed. Through Survive & Conquer APW attracted the attention of all wrestling fans. APW attracted the attention of all the best wrestlers—and is able to sign many of them on the back of their Survive & Conquer performances. But Survive & Conquer also basically acts as a trial period for backstage workers who flood to APW to deal with the huge show and then can pick the best, most efficient and enthusiastic ones to employ.

For APW’s health, therefore, Survive & Conquer is key.

A young intern who has been employed to deal with the influx of wrestling talent from outside of APW—and trust you and me there are a lot of them that don’t even get past an initial screening stage—sits in a busy room of people going through resumes. These are not resumes sent in by the wrestlers themselves but compiled by APW once they have expressed interest to see if they’re ‘up to scratch’ so to speak. The room resembles the workings of a post office during the busy Christmas holiday period: organised chaos.

The man who seems to be organising everything marches around surveying the scene of papers being passed around from person to person, from pile to pile. It is unclear exactly what he is doing but the questions being fired at him show that he has the final say on who is allowed to enter the rumble. He will occasionally be asked to look at a wrestler and decide if they should be allowed in before giving his thoughts—he has spoken to President Jeff about many of the names but others he just passes his personal opinion on to save his boss time.

Returning to the young intern he reaches to his left—the pile he has yet to look at yet—and gasps slightly. The man staring back at him with a slimy, sneer of a grin he recognized from his time watching the UWL. It was something he had done when doing research on APW new recruits Chris Hart, Delikado, and Kurt Noble what seemed like an age ago. It had even meant he recognized the likes of Christian Kane and Chris Strike when they had joined more recently. All of them were great athletes and he had enjoyed researching them. Even when a Christian Kane did something bad he still enjoyed the show as a whole—he is a smark after all.

“Jerry McClean,” the intern mutters under his breath. “This can’t be good.”



=====



“What do you mean you’ve entered the Survive and Conquer match?” a shocked voice questions.

Gary, a large rough looking man with a shaved head stands across a cluttered but vaguely organised desk from our antihero. He is one of Jerry’s long time associates and as such has been the manager of Jerry’s bar since he decided to take a back seat half a year ago. He has helped McClean out with wrestling feuds—or as Jerry might refer to them ‘wars’—before, so he is no stranger to a wrestling ring but he still cannot understand why Jerry has entered this match.

“I mean exactly that,” Jerry says with a chuckle. “I’m entering the Survive and Conquer match.”

“But why on earth would you do that?” Gary continues to ask. “You’ve already for a multi-man battle royal win on your CV. What’s the point in entering this?”

“With the greatest of respect to the battle royal that I won, it didn’t have the standard of competitor that this match will have when the lineup is announced,” Jerry explains. “I’d go as far as saying that APW Survive and Conquer is the single hardest match to win in all of professional wrestling.”

It was an easy assertion to make. Not only are the odds stacked against you to the nth degree, the brutality of the latter stages is truly astounding. And when you factor in that competitors that enter such a match it only makes it harder.

“I don’t understand though. Why enter if you’ve just admitted how hard this match is. You surely can’t think you’re going to win?”

The point is a fair one but Gary fears he might have overstepped the line. He never vocally spoke of not believing in Jerry’s ability to win a match...ever. He rarely gave his opinion to Jerry at all on wrestling matters. If he was asked to he’d help but he knows that even a young Jerry McClean has forgotten more about wrestling than he’s ever likely to learn.

“Statistically, yes. But if the statistics alone were what we were going by, then no one would be the victor.”



=====




The young intern thrusts his hand into the air to grab the attention of his supervisor who duly walks over to see what his question is.

“I don’t think that this wrestler should be put forward for selection,” the young intern announces.

“And why is that?”

“He’s Jerry McClean. I know all about what he’s done and I’m sure a lot of our fans do from google-ing him when Kurt Noble mentioned him in a promo. This guy is bad news. You shouldn’t want him to be associated with your promotion whatsoever.”

“We’ve got enough nuts on the roster already,” the supervisor says, appearing to agree with his temporary worker, before he says something which changes the complexion of the conversation completely: “we’ll know how to handle Jerry McClean.”

The comment is scoffed by the supervisor and the young intern is shocked that his opinion doesn’t count for anything—yet unaware of how the working world works.

“I don’t think you understand,” he pleads. “Jerry McClean is worse than anyone you’ve currently got. You think that it was bad when Kurt Noble was tied to the ring ropes and forced to watch when his wife was hit over the head with a chair? Jerry McClean went worse than that. He had Kurt Noble tied down and watching his manager being crippled and having bleach poured down his neck.” Even now the young intern repulses at the image of a bloody Jerry McClean standing over a twitching Robert Banks whilst medics tried to force their way into the steel cage setting of Jerry’s attack. “He’s even resorted to arson in the past. Do not let this man into APW.”

“I’m not letting him into APW. I’m letting him into the one off Survive and Conquer match. Do you not think that with all the delegates from other promotions that security will be so tight a fly couldn’t slip into the arena to do something like that?”

“But he’s not going to need to get past them if you let him into the match.”

“Do you not think that security will be incredibly tight within and around the wrestlers as well? If security let Scorpio, TFWF’s Intercontinental champion, have his back injured under an APW banner there would be an outcry. APW has seen enough invasions to actively not want TFWF, or others, to invade. More importantly, other federations would never release their talent to compete in APW again. We would be the laughing stock of the Experts and the CWC. Do you really think that we would let that happen?”

The silence is deafening. If either the intern or supervisor had broken eye contact to look around the room they would notice that a fair few of the other workers had stopped their own work to listen in when things began to get a bit more heated.

“I guess not...” the intern concedes.

“Exactly. Jerry McClean will not be able to do anything like he’s done in the past. All he will be able to do is be eliminated by someone like CJ Gates and be made to show APW as the powerhouse it is. ‘UWL’s former world champion cannot hack it in APW’ will be the headline and then we can kick him to the curb. He’s in the match.”



=====



“Surely you’re not doing it for the money?” Gary gasps when he thinks he’s worked out the motives of his friend. “This place isn’t going bust, y’know.”

“No it’s not for the money,” Jerry says with a dismissive wave of his right hand. “The prize money is an absolute joke. I think that this event will bring in a tonne more revenue than a poxy million. If it was about the money I would have already been in demanding the winner of the match gets a bigger cut.”

“So that’s not what attracted you to the match?” Gary quizzes further. “Not at all?”

Jerry purely shakes his head. Nothing else needs to be said.

“Then I can only think of one more reason...” Gary says whilst he trails off, almost praying that he’s wrong. “You want to force your way into APW. And I can only think to get at Kurt Noble again.”

Jerry grins from ear to ear. He wonders how many people up and down the country are thinking the same thing. How many of them are thinking wrong.



=====



At the end of the days work our young intern from earlier goes and knocks on the door of his supervisor. The man has since gone to his office after releasing his workforce but now looks up at the young man.

“What can I do for you?”

“I know you told me to forget about it...but it’s about Jerry McClean.”

The supervisor’s soft expression fades in an instant to one with an obvious twinge of irritation. He rolls his eyes before trying to shoot down the intern’s suspicions once again.

“I’ve talked it over with President Jeff and it’s a done deal,” he explains. “We’re not worried about Jerry McClean at all.”

“Well maybe you should be.”

“I’ve already told you. He wouldn’t be able to do anything under our security so what’s the problem?”

“My question to you is: what if he stays? What if, when the delegates and wrestlers leave and the security dwindles, what if Jerry McClean stays?”

Hold on a second...

“He’ll have to go to Meltdown like everyone else.”

Wait for it...

“But what if he’s not hanging around to work his way up through the APW ranks. What if he’s here to finish what he probably thought he had finished in UWL: What if he’s here to finish off Kurt Noble for good?”

And there it is! Just as Jerry McClean predicted: his obsession of crushing Kurt Noble was seen as his reason for entering.

The supervisor’s head shoots back and he cackles loudly. He’s not trying to be rude, per se, but it’s been a long time since he’s heard something that made him laugh so much.

“Jerry McClean work his way up and take out Kurt Noble? Give me a break. Firstly, I’d actually quite appreciate if this little psychopathic Brit came in and took Kurt Noble out of APW. I think he’s been a cancer in it for a while. And secondly, why on earth do you think he’s capable of it? Ok, so he beat Noble years back in some bingo hall somewhere. Like I care. Just like you I’ve looked Jerry McClean up and do you know what I saw? Failure. Failure in the Extreme Tournament not once, but twice. Meanwhile Kurt Noble took the APW banner to runner up each of those occasions. Jerry McClean isn’t a threat...he’s just a loser.”

“He made his mark last year by eliminating Leander Apollo and Hannah Rickman,” the intern points out. “He interfered and cost Rickman—someone who was tipped to go really far—her chance at becoming True Expert champion.”

“And what happened to him in the end? Huh? He got what was coming to him. It he comes to APW it would only be the same. He’d soon be leaving with his tail tucked firmly between his legs.”



=====



“No, I’m not going in to destroy Kurt Noble,” Jerry confirms. “I wouldn’t be surprised if Kurt Noble’s the reason I’ve been accepted to participate though.”

“You think they want him taken out?”

“No, I think they want the old Kurt Noble back. Do you remember this time last year when Kurt Noble pulled his ridiculous press conference stunt to take all the heat off President Jeff and APW to put it on himself? I remember looking at that and I almost puked. Kurt Noble, once more, just had to be the centre of attention. He just had to be a martyr for the cause—even if he didn’t know what the cause was. President Jeff will want that Kurt Noble back. The one that would enter Survive and Conquer with the intention of purely representing APW and standing up to the supposed ‘invaders’.”

“And your presence might turn Noble’s hatred away from Hart and towards you. Putting him back on the course President Jeff wants him to be on?” Gary says, continuing the logic of what Jerry was saying.

“Exactly. That’ll be what he’s hoping for,” Jerry says with a grin.

The grin, of course, shows that he knows things will not go down as President Jeff might plan. Far from it.

“Are you going to tell me then?” Gary asks again.

“Huh?” Jerry says as he snaps back to reality.

“Why did you enter Survive and Conquer?”

He knows that, with Jerry McClean, the answer will be far from simple. There’s always a reason behind every action. Everything is part of some greater master plan. That’s what his opponents in Survive and Conquer need to look out for. If Jerry McClean is down—it doesn’t mean he’s hurt. If Jerry McClean looks like he’s going for one move in particular—you need to be anticipating another. It’s the unpredictability that has made Jerry must-watch TV for many independent wrestling fans.

“Well. It’s simple really...”



=====



On the way to an APW house show Jerry listens to a podcast on his iPhone. He’s always found such things incredibly amusing and he was sure that this one would be no different.

“No we have to settle down on your prediction for the winner then,” the host states.

“Well I think that it’s about time someone from APW won it,” an obnoxious sounding one begins. Why is there always an obnoxious one? “And I think that means you need to look no further than Terry Marvin. Came in at number 1 last year to finish runner up. He knows this match inside out and he’s the best that APW has to offer.”

“Well that’s sorted. No need to tune in, folks, we know who the winner will be!” the host jokes. “But seriously: other potential winners?”

“Well I don’t think that Sally Talfourd, Keaton Saint or CJ Gates have to be leading the way from the APW competitors.”

“And if we ignore your obsession with APW wrestlers what about the outsiders?” the hose teases.

“This is an APW podcast, of course I’m going to be bigging up our own talent!” he defends. “But to answer your question for those outside you’ve got the likes of Scorpio, Adrien Specter and an experienced competitor in Black Death who shouldn’t be looked past.”

“And any dark horses?”

“Well it’s hard not to mention Leon Stone who comes in last. But the last entrant rarely wins! Vannah White has had some amazing training. And I actually think someone like a Sofia Monzon, associate of BAWSE Delikado, could be a dark horse. We’ll have to see!”

Jerry smirks as he switches his iPhone off. As expected he wasn’t even given a hope in hell. He thought a joke might have been made at his expense but with so many other competitors it’s hard to be noticed. It’s hard to get your voice heard.

How can 100 people have voices ahead of one match? They can’t. It’s impossible. The most famous names will be noticed, sure. They will be the ones sought out. They will be the ones who are invited to press conference after press conference whilst the worlds’ media hangs on their every word. Then on top of that you might get a few eccentrics who attract attention purely because they’re something different. Someone like Sofia Monzon will certainly be interesting from a fans’ perspective as Delikado’s ex competes for the first time.

For the average Tom, Dick and Harry—the hardworking wrestlers who are neither controversial or well known—their voices will not be heard over the screams of everyone else. The sea of awful puns about ‘surviving’ and ‘conquering’ will drown them out and leave them in obscurity.

Jerry didn’t mind fighting against this sea of vomit-inducing bullshit. He actually quite liked the challenge of rising above it. After all, it was what he had always done.

And everyone knows that the best successes are those where you have looked doubters straight in the eye and spat in their face before claiming your prize.



=====



At an APW house show in the also huge NIA in Birmingham the fans in attendance sit in anticipation for the next match or segment to begin. That is until one fan, or rather wrestler, in attendance decides to make his voice known. There are no prizes for guessing who.

In a simple pair of jeans and navy blue hoodie Jerry begins to walk down the steps in attendance towards the ring—holding a Megaphone to his mouth as he moves forward.

“Ladies and gentlemen if I could just have your attention please. I won’t take but a moment of your time.”

Murmurs spread through the crowd who, despite being his home town crowd, basically don’t know who McClean is. As the murmur continues and Jerry repeats himself a camera finds its way to him and his image is projected onto the big screen.

“Now I know that very few of you will know who I am. And even fewer care. I am not an APW wrestler and neither do I have any chance of winning the Survive and Conquer battle royal match, right?”

The question is rhetorical and Jerry notices that a couple of security guards have decided that they should remove him—others have assumed this is an APW authorized stunt and have left him to it. Jerry picks a route to avoid the two who are willing to take action as he makes his way further to the ring.

“I don’t blame you for thinking so. The odds are stacked against me and no one in the media seems to think so. Not one person has been interested in interviewing little ol’ me. Which is such a shame really as I have so much to say for myself. I guess the thing is that I stand before you all as a free agent. Or I guess more crucially an unwanted free agent. APW don’t want to risk signing someone like me permanently so they don’t want to give me any air time. And as I’m not affiliated with a TFWF or a SCW, APW doesn’t feel the need to use me for smoozing exercises from the bigwigs who want to keep ties between promotions strong. Here I came into a match expecting to find a battlefield and I’ve stumbled into a boardroom of people stroking egos—uninterested in the result.”

Jerry reaches the ring barricade and hops it. The head of the production staff on the floor seems to decide that this promo is good business for APW and actually hands Jerry a microphone. Once in the ring he puts the megaphone on the floor and lifts the microphone to his lips instead.

“But as I’m not here to talk about how important it is for APW and other promotions to remain on friendly terms how about I just settle on what’s most important. Me.”

The comment brings the expected boos from the crowd who, initially undecided, have agreed what they think of the young Brit before them.

“I’ve been asked why I would enter such a match where I have as much chance of winning as one of you in attendance by a few friends—again it seems that very few people from the press are interested—and the simple answer is that my career has been a gradual progression. I started as a kid from Birmingham,” cue a small cheap pop that Jerry didn’t really intend, “and I went to a small independent promotion in America. I struggled and I fought my way to the top. I became their world champion but I’m perfectly aware that that means about as much as winning an all you can eat buffet contest when I step into an APW ring. But basically: I outgrew the promotion. And I decided to try my hand at Experts events.”

A few more people have heard of Experts events—many APW superstars have taken part after all and APW even hosted a stage of the latest Extreme Tournament. The comment has allowed more people in the crowd to place where they have seen Jerry before.

“Immediately I struggled. I was knocked out early on but I did make an impression. This past year was an improvement but for me it was still a failure. This simply means that all of you,” Jerry spins around pointing at the fans, “only think of Jerry McClean as a failure.”

A small “FAILURE. FAILURE. FAILURE.” Chant picks up but Jerry talks across it to shut them up. He’s not interested in what they have to say.

“But even more than before I made my mark and then I noticed this opportunity. The Survive and Conquer battle royal. This is perfect for me. This is my chance to show to all of the people who only know me from the experts that I am a top talent. That I am capable of more than failure. That I am the top guy in this industry. Not only is this the biggest match I’ve been in, in the biggest promotion, in the biggest arena—it’s got far and away the most people in. The Wembley ring will end up more clustered than a hoarder’s attic. And the winner of the match? He’s going to have to be a real fighter.”

Jerry grins and holds his arms wide open. The insinuation is clear—don’t look any further than him.

“I’ve struggled and fought my way time and time again. I haven’t just waddled into this massive promotion like so many of these wrestlers have who think they have the fight in them. My road here has been long and I’m going to make the most of it now that I’m here on the biggest stage of them all.

“Mark my words wrestling fans. I may not win this match—the chances of me doing so are atrocious—but I will make my mark. I will be testing myself against the best this business has to offer and afterwards no-one will be able to say that facing Jerry McClean is an easy match. They will all know that I am no failure.”



=====



After his outburst Jerry was taken backstage so the show could continue. Little did he know that just down the corridor the young intern who had handled his resume was watching him carefully.

Jerry slalomed through the corridors towards the exit until he ran into the man the intern feared he was looking for. It was, of course, Kurt Noble.

The intern braces himself for the explosion that was about to take place only to be shocked even more.

The two merely nod to each other and as Jerry walks past his old rival. A couple of whispers were exchanged but nothing audible for the spying intern.

Maybe Jerry was merely in APW to rectify his reputation after all.

[Trent Stone]

In Order To Conquer, First One Must Survive...


Survive.

We all have the same story. Ignore the irrelevant details, the character-builders, the influences upon which we base opinions and views. The base story is the same. We’re all born. A simple creation, more often from an ‘oops’ than you’d like to believe. We’re all the consequence of casual sex or the production of marriage and planning. A seed.

From birth, we’re exposed to everything the world has to offer. To the teachings of our parents and what they want out of their child, to the teachings of television shows and movies to show us what we want out of ourselves, and to the teachings of the school system in order to direct us down the path society wants out of each child.

We’re a product of our environment, from the streets of Detroit to the ‘sunshine’ valleys of California. From the congestion of New York City to the solitude of a Nebraska countryside. Your world view depends on the world that has been provided to you, as you observe and learn. That is one habit that is hard to break for most, expansion not being a necessity in today’s lifestyle.

We all grow; Absorbing information like a sponge, clinging on to influences and teachings to build us from foundation to rooftop. My mind was always clearer than most, some sort of innate ability to step away from each bit of knowledge, assessing it, analyzing it, and making sure I approved and agreed before stashing it away into the file cabinet in the back of my brain.

Question everything.

Society questions everything at a higher rate than ever before in this country, but they question the wrong things. Always pointing the finger higher and higher towards authority, towards the management, towards the government, towards religion, towards whatever eases the burden off of your own back. But once in a while, you have to point that damn finger in the mirror. Question yourself. Question the life you lead, the life you have led. Question your habits, question your approach to every day when you roll out of those warm covers.

Most importantly, question yourself.

As our stories find their differences in the details, our environments and influences running astray with our personalities and beliefs, they maintain the same streamline. We age. We grow more stubborn, more sure of what we think we want, and what we want to be. Schools and occupations help mold our own standards for ourselves and those around us, yet again more locational then credited. From the scholarship-chasers to the daily bailers, I found myself in between. I managed to complete High School, just out of spite…to myself, really. I was as stubborn as anybody, as I reflected any attempt at unwanted knowledge right back towards the source. Teachers lecturing guide books, preachers following their own form of guide books. Our weeks, where they led us, ended up the same. Here. The here and now, the internal ‘today’. I remember the first time I heard the saying, “Today is the first day of the rest of your life”, and I have to admit. I felt a twinge of inspiration somewhere in my gut. Because it is true to all of us. No matter how much time we had left on this planet, no matter how many more breaths our bodies were going to take, today…is always the vantage point from which you can look out upon your near future, and the paths you plan on choosing to grace with your footprints.

I forged my own path. I hated following in the proverbial footsteps of others. I wasn’t a follower, nor was I a leader of men. I sat back, I watched the world rotate in more ways than one, and I drew my information from life. Real time. Not from the filtered sources of news networks and radio voices. Not from the filtered source of “I heard from a guy who heard from a girl who heard from a guy…who saw this”. I’ve seen every form, every approach of the details. From my youth in New Mexico…to my purposeful escape from that environment with my 4 years in the Marines, including three tours overseas.

Now that was an environment which molds you. Wipes away mercy, luckily I never had any. Their purpose is to instill purpose IN you, and the only way that can be done is to tear you down to nothing and build you back up to match their standard. A group of men. All different motivations. Most were there fueled by patriotism, but I was not one who pissed red, white and blue. There were others, like me, who found it as the best vent for their pent up frustration in a legal sense. An escape. They tore me down physically and built me back up into a soldier. Mentally, I needed no rebuilding. As far as what they needed from a soldier, I naturally provided. No fear, merciless, willing to kill, willing to be killed.

It was all fine by me, give me my rifle and a magazine and watch some fireworks, bitches.

Then I came back to the States and found a home in New York City, staying on the opposite coast from the loveless house I once called a ‘home’. My experience with survival had come full circle. I had survived a childhood through which I was given no guidance. I had survived 4 years of war, escaping death despite my recklessness. And then I found myself sitting in the middle of the spectrum. New York City, the ultimate melting pot. Watching the struggle to survive on a day to day basis, from the bellhop at a hotel to the man ordering him to press a double-digit number. Everything was here, the world as a whole was practically condensed into a film reel, and then projected onto a silver screen.

This is just life. All the intangibles, all the obstacles. The details. But ultimately, as different as every work of art has been, they all began the same way. A blank canvas. We were all born into this world. Equal. Lack of knowledge, lack of expectations.

A blank canvas.

And through life, no matter how many brushes attempted to fill the gaps, we come face to face with milestones that give us a chance at erasing it ALL. Leaving only the edges and fine lining as a base, we can wipe clean all that has made us who we are, and begin to rebuild ourselves.

It’s all open to interpretation. That’s why I had become so fascinated with the belief in religion. Because while it all rings as nonsensical to me, it’s a book of metaphors and a story of lessons. I myself could fill several roles. The Book of Job, who was consistently tested, having everything torn away, but still his faith remained strong. I can relate, although not to the aspect of blind faith. I knew my own purpose. I knew that in order to fulfill it, to play part in the world at large, I had to survive. I’ve heard the saying, “The first thing to do when you find yourself in a hole is to stop digging.” But sometimes, you’re unwillingly put into a hole so deep, that the only chance you’ve got is to keep digging until you come out the other side.

The Book Of Exodus. Yeah, I ran. You bet your ass I ran. I ran right into the military. But running is, again, a test of perspective. I wasn’t necessarily running away from anything, but rather, running to something. Salvation, like an oasis in the desert. Through mirages, through the dark cloud teasing a rain drop. I was running towards my salvation.

Turned out just to be a different version of a living hell.

It was only a month after returning to the States, I was arrested for the murder of my father and shipped over to a new Siberian prison where they held a wrestling event once a week. Siberian Wrestling, it became quite the phenomenon in the States and throughout the wrestling community. The prison walls were almost like a gated community to me. Stuck in a deserted location, in the same location with the other ‘menaces to society’, whose lives all came into a streamline with mine. Same place, same time, same experimental wrestling company. Not unlike letting the lion out of its cage, we came out guns a-blaze, persay, each and every time we had the chance to. It was a battle of survival, it was a battle of dominance. This was a shared terrain, but there could only be one ‘king’ of Siberia. And that battle, in the ultimate end, was won by me. I took our little world and I took control.

The environment was exactly what I was made for. From the steel bars and cold cots, to the physical activity and outlet of anger. It was a perfect match. And almost a year later, while my court date finally approached for my final judgment, a key piece of evidence was found inadmissible in a court of law.

Oops.

And here I am. And with a canvas organized by my OWN strokes of the brush. Not by the media, not by family members, not by counselors or professors. 100% Self-Made. Through all of life’s hard tests, I came out the other side, and held on to all my principles and ideology at the same time. Like a strainer to gold, the moment of truth when you have your true worth tested, I wasn’t the water that simply fell back to the Earth. I wasn’t the waste of weight and space I thought I would be. I clung on to that net. I didn’t fall through, and in the end, when all is said and done. I made it, at least to this very day.

I survived.

I was the gold.




Conquer

I don’t need the backdrops. I’m not a man who’s going to come to a sporting event where 100 men and women are set to do battle against one another, and make sure that they know I spent X-amount of time at the gym, X-amount of time watching tape. I’m not a man who’s going to lecture you about my accomplishments IN this sport. I won’t give you a tour of my apartment in Manhattan, I won’t give you an introductory run down of people in my life.

I’m just a voice. I’m just a story. I’m just another grain of sand amongst 99 others. I don’t need a verbal pedestal, I don’t need hype or attention at any point before the single, solitary second I step both boots into that ring. Big talk only sets you up for a bigger fall. Rarely will a wing of this magnitude be any further enhanced by the fact that you told 99 people you were gonna kick their asses all week. The win is the win, it says it all. A loss? A loss is not only enhanced by your silly talk, but defined by it. So do us all a favor when it comes time to ‘promotional’ work for such an event, and just…promote it. Not yourselves, not the fact that you held that title twice over a year ago in your home fed. It is all rendered completely irrelevant, THIS is as clean of slate as you can get in this business. 100 Wrestlers, one ring, one survivor. There will be 99 failures, despite the fact that we’ve already been preached to about 100 pending-success stories. If everyone’s words were to blossom into truth, it wouldn’t be much of a ‘conquering’ now, would it?

I mean, we could all just enter the ring one by one…until 100 of us are in stuffed into that ring like a Haitian family’s basement…and then patiently wait, maybe have some calm banter, until there’s some sort of TV time limit, or the building must clear out for another event.

ONE WILL STAND. In every facet, there is always ‘one man’. While the rest struggle, you can slowly trace upwards through the chain of command, through the food chain of our own kind, from bottom to top. Whether it’s a managerial capacity, a loyalty capacity, or a physical capacity like our pending event Survive And Conquer. EVERYBODY answers to SOMEONE. In this match, you will have some outsmart others. You will have some out-MUSCLE others. You will have counters, reversals, diverse training, different approaches, and altered strategies.

It’s just like war. Everybody’s holding a gun, but the accuracy of the hands is what makes it dangerous.

Now let me explain my intentions and ambitions heading in to the extravaganza. I’m not going to sit here and tell you a hundred different ways that I am going to win. I plan to win, sure, but it’s just that. A plan. Undeveloped. I’ll see you on the other side of this monumental match to let you know how that plan worked out. But there’s a reason I signed ink to paper to participate and to wave any responsibility of my well-being from APW’s worries. A million dollars? Not the top of my priority list.

When I look at this opportunity through my lens of the world, called ‘skewed’ by some, but that just simply proves my point. I look at this match, the ultimate modern day version of ‘survival of the fittest’, and I see 99 egos. Floating above their heads like halos with high cholesterol. I see these men looking to feed those egos, to fuel that urge to point down at someone on the ground and laugh. Men who want to further heighten their testosterone levels and women who want to prove there is an equality in existence. Each and every one of them looks at the picture quite simply, disregarding the money. Half look to their own launch upwards. The rest look towards the emasculating of others, to shove their head below and watch them drown.

It’s all well and good, especially when, in the end, everyone really just wants a bonus 1 Million dollar payday.

But I look at it like I look at religion. You can hold that book above my head and tell me I’m going to hell for my sins, or to offer me absolution and a trip to heaven. In response, all I can say is…well, I’ll send you a postcard once I get to whichever destination awaits me. The “What If”s in life are what ruin you. You can’t waste your existence chasing imaginary cars. It’s all about the NOW. The real world, the one that surrounds you each and every day. And in the spirit of a weakened sense of self that has plagued society for our entire existence to day…you need a higher power, almost as if you need to be kept in check. You need trustworthy re-assurance, you need truth, you need help. Whatever it is you look to those skies for, asking nothing but pending precipitation and balls of gas, you need to, rather, watch where you’re walking. Don’t follow words spoken from binding and loose-leaf, follow what your eyes can see, follow information that your mind can absorb knowledge from FIRST HAND.

There are proving grounds in all shapes and sizes in this world, as well as podiums and microphones. You can do your part, you can say your spiel, and you can go home to a nice frozen dinner feeling a sense of accomplishment. But when you TRULY want to get your message across, following in line with the status quo simply will not do. It’s a combination of will and opportunity. The opportunity to take the attention of the worldwide audience, the opportunity to EARN their use of listening and the chance to earn influence. And the WILL to take it and use it to the full extent of its power.

THIS is as BIG AS IT GETS, folks. This is a chance upon a chance. The money pales in comparison to what I wish to do with the POWER that comes with this victory. 99 voices will flail in the wind like a November leaf, but one voice…once the storm clears, only one will be heard. All the trash talk, all the pre-match banter, all the self-hype gets strapped to a cinder block and dropped in the Pacific. Except for one man, who stands…the sole survivor. The conqueror.

All you’ve done before this day means nothing. 100 wild cards. Your number drawn will be nothing but an excuse in the end. The cream truly does rise to the top, in the proper circumstances. This is not something that will be accidentally won. This will be won by the one that craves it the most. The one that refuses to fail, refuses to falter, refuses to lose their focus. And 99 will have entered unprepared. Underestimating the effort this truly will claim from your body and mind.

Christianity started with ONE MAN. Paul. He went from ear to ear, mind to mind, spreading the word of the man who had just ‘died to cleanse them from their sins’. One man, one message. And it slowly crept from town to town, city to city. As the world grew, so did the message, as it travelled across seas and oceans. Today, you have a THIRD of the entire world’s population that identify themselves with this single message, never mind all the ideologies that were based off of its tangents. That’s amazing, isn’t it?

Just a man and a message. That message blossomed into the stories that made up the Bible. Stories that are, in the end, fabricated, and simply instill a sense of calm and faith in masses looking for something to base their lives off of.

So I look to that, I observe the failures that religion has been responsible for. All the hatred and segregation world-wide caused by something that is supposed to be ‘pure’ and ‘good’. And I say…Jesus was a man with the right podium, the right timing, and the right message. And it took the ultimate sacrifice to start that pebble of snow down the side of a mountain.

How about I, with the message looking to question everything our FUCKED UP society is based on, take my message…attach it to physical, visual proof. Simple, right? See it, believe it? If only it was that simple, because what needs to be done is hundreds of years of destructive foundation. Our brains are practically NATURALLY programmed at this point to accept the ‘word of a god’ and to ‘serve his wishes’ throughout our lifetime in order to gain eternal life after death.

Seems like a waste, doesn’t it? MAKE THIS LIFE COUNT. Of all the uncertainty and questions you can spend 80 years on this planet pursuing, I ask you to take one day out of your lives…to question everything. Question your belief system, why it is you pass on your successes and your failures to a ‘lord and savior’. Realize that we are all just animals with an efficient thought process. FUCK all the of the world’s influences, let’s begin to built a new society, a new life style on which people operate on the belief of THEMSELVES. There’s one ‘higher power’ in everybody’s world, and it’s THEMSELVES.

Do you see the inspiration here? The problem is…right now? There is no chance. We need a single figure, like Jesus was to his movement. A single figure to be HEARD and to drive home his point until it can finally be understood and seen as the LIGHT that it is. And when I prove myself…to be a higher power…to 99 other performers this weekend at APW’s Survive And Conquer?

I will have millions watching me afterwards. My name will be on their tongues, the water cooler will be surrounded by speakings of my success. And as sad as it is, I know how this world works. I’ve watched it for 30 years, and taken mental notes the whole way through…The ultimate key to having that voice heard? Do gaining that attention? Do having several minds at a time slowly open themselves up to you?

Is recognition. Surviving is what solidified the belief system I have today. Conquering will provide the proper stage to pass it on to the world.

Step by step.

And in the end of it all? Once we can trash the attempted facades and the disregard the charades of 99 others? You will all believe in what's real.

You will believe in Stone.

[Adrien Specter]

“What in God’s name do you think you were doing?!” Richard cried down the phone as he strode around the room, his patience wearing thin, quickly.

“It was an unforeseen and unfortunate incident. We’ve taken steps to remove all evidence of the event by removing the scene from our replays, and taking down any clips of it from Youtube.” Jeff replied down the phone, his voice calm and collected.

“The guy wasn’t suppose to talk! He was suppose to come out, hand over the fucking note and then leave!”

“I can’t be accountable for men of whom go into business for themselves.”

“No, instead you just allow lookalikes to go do as they please, do you?”

“A lookalike with your blessing, Richard.” Jeff stated bluntly.

“Only because you don’t think you can trust Adrien in the same building as Kurt Noble! I was MORE than willing to allow Adrien to come to England and do the build-up himself…” Richard replied, his tone getting louder as his strides became greater and faster.

“Yes, because with Insomnia in SCW, he’s just been a shinning beacon of professional conduct…” Jeff said, a slight venom to his voice as he spoke.

“That’s completely different! He’s been after Som for months!”

“After Insomnia disrespected him, much like Noble did last week. I’ve enough trouble with keeping Chris Hart suspended without him turning up to start a fight without your brother looking for some payback as well. I understand that Dorling may enjoy allowing his roster to do as they please for short-term ratings, I however like to keep control of the situation here at APW.”

“Yeah, because you’re doing a fantastic job pulling that off.” Richard replied childishly, as Jeff let out a sigh on the other end of the line.

“This conversation achieves nothing. The best I can do is apologize on behalf of myself and APW as a whole.”

“Well that’s just fucking brilliant, isn’t it? Say sorry and hope that it all goes away? This is bullshit, Jeff!”

“Well I fear it’s a situation of which we are stuck with.”

“Yeah, right…” Richard said, defeated, as he squeezed the bridge of his nose in frustration.

“Is there anything else?” Jeff asked in his formal tone once more, only irritating The Elder Specter more.

“Depends, is there something you’d care to add yourself bar ‘Sorry, but we’ve moved on now.’”

“No, I don’t. As I’ve said it was unfortunate that it happened, and I send my condolences, however, I have another 99 people in this battle royal that I must attend to. Good day Mr. Specter.”

And with that, Jeff hung up. As he did, Richard held his phone in his palm, before throwing it across the room in a fit of anger. Slowly his eyes looked up to see Adrien standing by the door, looking upon his brother with a dark expression.

“Adrien…I’m sorry, but I don’t know what else we can do.” Richard explained, as Adrien turned his head to the side, before turning his back to his brother, and leaving the room completely. As Richard stood there, his shoulders sank, depressed, before he collapsed onto a nearby chair.

“Fuck…”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

An Open Letter to APW, and the Survive and Conquer participants.

Greetings. Many of you may not know of whom I am. Given the huge outreaching this year’s Survive and Conquer throughout the wrestling community, taking note of a single man seems to be a mute point at best. However, allow me to introduce myself.

My name is “The Ghost” Adrien Specter, and I’m quite well known to some of you.

Is it because of my numerous championships? Nope.

Is it because of my lengthy career, reaching a quarter of a century this year? Nope.

Then what could it possibly be? Could it be that I severed my tongue from my head with a pair of garden sheers before cauterized the wound with a soldering iron…

…Yeah, I’d say that’s the reason. And ever since that day I’ve fucking hated it. Do you have any idea what it feels to be known throughout the world for one single infamous act? Well you all want to be that person. You want to be known throughout the world for one thing.

You wanted to be the person who survived and conquered.

You see, while you’re all striving for that one goal, I fear that my incident isn’t so honorable. Severed from the rest of the world. One quick snip…

…and I’m not human anymore. A social pariah for the world to look upon and recoil in horror. Yes, I have those of whom would refer to me as a “friend”, however, there’s always been that barrier, that aura of fear. I’ve been known time and time again to poke fun at myself in order to make others feel more comfortable around me, but in truth that only gets me so far in this world.

In their eyes I’m a beast that can’t be tamed, so they’d rather distance themselves from me. You see, because I’m different. Although many in this contest believe that they can somehow stand out from the mass of people entering, however, one key feature stands head and shoulders above all else. The main difference between myself and the other 99 competitors is quite staggering. You see I may not be the most knowledgeable technical wrestler. I may not be greatest high flyer. And by the looks at what some of you have said I’m nowhere close to having the biggest ego. However, one thing I do have, is an ability that’s sorely lacking in this day and age.

I have the self-destructive will to sever my own limbs off and beat my opponent to death with them if I saw it beneficial to the cause. I may cost me in the long run, but seeing as I enjoy living one day at a time, I don’t really put any thoughts into my future plans.

Well. At least not until now.

Have any of you asked yourselves “Why”? As in why are you doing this. The odds are so greatly stacked against us all, that it makes you wonder as to why you’d even sign up for this contest? For some, it’s to continue in the self-deluded belief that they’re God’s gift to professional wrestling, believing themselves superior somehow for the fact they were able to keep their heads down and out the way.

For the few, it’s to represent their federation. Owners such as Dorling have stepped up, while Talon, the owner of CRW put his Crucible Tournament back two days so myself, Rex Evans, and Donovan Davenport could show the world just how good we are. However, given Talon’s recent “war” with some of the APW Roster, I’d put his own pride down as a reason too.

For others, the stature of beating 99 other people, even though that in and of itself is a lie. The only two people who are capable of doing that are Nick Wattson and AJ Fairchild, and that’s only because they were unfortunate enough to draw numbers one and two. If they somehow one of them pulled off the impossible task of eliminating every person as soon as they entered the ring, before getting out the cage first, pinning someone in the street fight, then moving on to climb the ladder for the Million, then yes, THEY could claim that title. However, that said it hasn’t stopped people who are coming in half-way during the match speaking as if they’re going to singlehandedly defeat everyone who stands in their way. Once again, the ego’s line up, squabbling like children.

For me? I’m doing this for the money. I’m not going to beat around the bush with this. I’m here for the million, and allow for me to explain why.

It’s for the reason that people on fan radio stations claim that it’s “Unfair” that I got drawn at 97, regardless that there are three others following behind me.

It’s for the reason that Jeff has to ask my permission to use a lookalike in the final build towards Survive and Conquer, because he can’t trust me to be in the same building as Kurt Noble.

It’s because, to many, without my tongue I’m not classed as “human”. As if by removing that, I somehow devolved into something a lot more intimidating. Something that can’t be reasoned with. Yes, I may look like a normal human (a normal human with a body ravaged by years of abuse, but I digress.) however, there’s a shell around me. Something of a barrier that separates me from them. An indistinguishable characteristic that gets hidden away until someone starts to talk to me.

Frankly, people are unnerved by me, and that’s why they try their hardest to get me on side. However, this time nothing will stand in my way of victory. Because I need that money so that I can finally rid myself of this self-inflicted curse.

One million dollars…that could go a long way to a transplant. In truth though, The Year Of The Specter is all just a marketing ploy on my behalf. Spend a year gaining as much as I can so I can use it to rid myself of this mask that people have placed upon me.

Can you even comprehend that? Ask yourself, how would it feel to you if you were unable to grasp simple communication with another human being. You understand the theory, and you’ve done it before, but now very time you speak you sound like a dog whining for his master. People look upon you with a mixture of shock and horror, and yet every time you step in that ring you’ve become so frustrated with it, that you just decide to bite the bullet and embrace the monster you’re forever marked down as.

And what happens when I’ve completed my task? Does the slate cleanse itself? Does everyone just forget and move on? No…Because I’ve done too many horrible things within this lifetime to just be forgiven. But at the very least I’ll be able to tell the women of my life that I love her. To be able to sing to her children on their birthdays.

To finally release the self-inflicted death grip I have upon my brother for support. Finally he can go and live his own life rather than have me cling onto him as a middle man between me and the rest of humanity.

You see when I took my tongue, wrapped it in a little box and sent it to my opponent as a gift, I wasn’t thinking of the consequences of my actions. However, I can go without the ability to bitch someone out. I’ve been doing that in the ring for far too long for words to affect me now. Nothing is original anymore. Hell, some of my opponents had the exact same idea of thinking that doing a parody of a TV show was somehow make a bigger impact on the fans but ultimately it will be pointless.

Everyone is focusing far too much upon the first stage, whereas, as No. 97, I estimate that I won’t need to worry about three-quarters of you. They think that if they can get through the rumble that everything just going to be plane sailing from there on in.

However, my sights are set firmly upon claiming the win through other methods. First…we begin with the rumble itself. In preparation to this, Dorling and Talon both arranged for a rumble each to take place. For Talon, it was to claim the final place in the Crucible tournament.

For Dorling...Just because. I won both of them, eliminating both a large array of SCW and CRW, both containing hot prospects, as well as world champions. However, as much as I’d like to believe that those were quite important to my build up to my victory at Survive and Conquer, I believe there’s another match that would better demonstrate just how relentless I can be when desired…

Underground Pro Wrestling Episode 1.

Adrien Specter Vs. Johnny Stylez.

Inferno Match.

The pair brawl within the center of the ring, the flames that they’re surrounded by growing higher and higher. Suddenly, Johnny grabs Adrien, before whipping him into the ropes, the burning plastic lacing his back as he stumbles into the middle of the ring, crying out in pain, before being struck with a nasty DDT. Quickly picking Specter up, Stylez takes him over to the ropes, before tossing him over the top of them, and turning to the crowd, gloating as he waits for the ref to call for the bell. A few seconds pass however, as the camera pans round the ring to show Adrien holding onto the top rope, his hands clutching for dear life as the fire chars his hands. Quickly, he skins the cat, pulling himself back into the ring, with his back now clearly scared from his tireless attempts to win. As he stumbles into the middle of the ring, Johnny turns round just in time to have a knee planted into his gut, before being struck with Adrien’s patented Vertebreaker, the Six Feet Under. With Stylez now out cold, Adrien struggles to lift the much bigger Johnny, before throwing him over the top rope, and to the outside of the ring.

DING!

Announcer: And your winner, “The Ghost” Adrien Specter!

With that, Adrien falls to his knees, exhausted as the ring crew quickly put out the fires, before seeing to attend to Adrien’s horrific burns…

[/i][/center]

I didn’t need to win that match. In truth thinking about it I could have saved myself a lot of pain and anguish by just accepting my fate and being tossed over the top. But my desire to win, my will to beat him caused me to grasp onto that rope. My finger and palms burning horrifically as I clamp my hands down upon that metal coil, before forcing my arms to pull myself back into the ring. I had a purpose that night, and it was to win, much like I will do at Survive and Conquer.

Tell me, how do you plan on eliminating a man who will literally grab onto scold himself for life, losing all sensation in his hands for one match? I can tell you right now, it shall not be an easy task, and if someone can do it, I look forward to shaking their hand afterwards.

Past that, however, we have a cage match. One where you must escape in order to win. A few days after this, I’ll have to face off against Insomnia in an electric cage, however, that’s none of your concern. What is however, is my history of them…

NEW Hollow’s Night Fight 2011.

Adrien Specter Vs. Roger Wright.

Three Stages Spin the Wheel Match for the NEW Undisputed Championship.

Final Fall: Cage Match…

The pair are in the middle of the ring, both exhausted from righting though a bullrope match, and a flaming tables match before the cage finally descended upon the pair of them. Slowly, Adrien drags himself to the cage wall, and slowly begins to climb the side of it. Roger, meanwhile, begins dragging himself to the door, his manager opening it and begging for him to climb through the door and end the match. Just as Specter reaches the top, Wright finally begins using the stares to pull himself towards the floor. His manager attempts to pull him out but Roger, showing his pride above logic, and slaps his hands away. As Adrien stands upon the top of the cage, he looks to see Roger inches away from victory.

Before Specter takes a deep breath…

…and jumps off the top, landing hard, back first at ringside, as Roger finally pulls himself through seconds later, as his face shows his realization of his loss.

DING!

Announcer: And your winner, and NEW Undisputed World Heavyweight Champion, Adrien Specter!

As the EMT's roll out the stretchers for both men. Specter gets handed the NEW UNDISPUTED World title from the ref and he holds it close to his heart with a sick smile on his face as the EMT's load him onto a stretcher.

[/i][/center]

Looking back, I know it was a stupid move. I could have been paralyzed, but yet it was another man of whom I simply refused to lose to. I had beaten man after man to get that chance, and he gets a bye to the final? No. I wouldn’t allow him to get by so easily, just as I will not allow those of you who thing that because of my age that somehow I’m going to be the fucking cakewalk in this match. And that’s not even taking into account my abilities when ALL the rules go out of the window in Street Fights…

SCW Cancun Clash 2012.

Adrien Specter Vs. Damien Lester

Unsanctioned Hardcore Title match.

We catch the match towards its conclusion, as Specter places Lester upon a table in the middle of the street, next to a hardware store they broke into while fighting. The crowd gathered around them are suitably chanting for the bloodshed as Adrien wraps a roll of barbwire around Damien, keeping him pinned to the table. Lester, now unable to move watches as Adrien slowly lowers himself out of sight, before picking up a canister of gasoline. Lester however, seems unfazed by the prospect of being set alight, before Adrien simply shakes his head at him, before stopping, and covering himself in the petrol.

The crowd surrounding them gasps as he does, before he sets up a ladder next to the table, and picks up a box of matches off the ground, before he begins to climb up, careful not to slip on the mixture of gas and blood of which Adrien is covered in. Finally, he stands upon the top of the ladder, looking down at his target, before the crowd around them fall silent.

He lights the match, and is instantaneously becomes engulfed in flames, before he jumps off the ladder, hitting with a Double Rotation Moonsualt, The Sent From Above. As he crashes through the table, immediately the fans rush forward, tossing their drinks over the pair of them in an attempt to put out the flames. As the pair lay motionless, Adrien still atop Lester as the ref finally gets down and makes the count.

ONE…

TWO…

THREE!

DING!

Announcer: And your winner, and STILL SCW Hardcore Champion, Adrien Specter!

[/i][/center]

People have called my suicidal for years. Say that I take things too far in order to get the job done. But like I’ve proven time and time again, those of whom believe themselves to be superior generally find that in this world, they’re the smallest dogs of whom are trying to bark loudest.

I don’t bark. I don’t make threats of what I do to people. I don’t say I’m going to do this, that, and the other for the sake of intimidation.

All I have to do is show the world my highlight reel…and that deep down is the problem.

You see, while others may believe themselves “hardcore” or destined to win, I however have the unfortunate resume to back up my claims. 25 years of utter brutality for the sake of victory, and for what reason?

To demonstrate the levels in which I’ll go in order to win. Much like I’ll do this year in Survive and Conquer. Many will have been there before, like myself. However, there are men and women like Knuckles, Gates, Talford, and Marvin of whom have years of experience in comparison to me. All I have is one lowly chance last year, one where my focused was based purely on one man.

MDK…

And if you look long and hard into that list of 100, you’ll see that his name isn’t there anymore. You see, last year I had a focus, but now I don’t have that standing in my way. Yes, there are people of whom I dislike in this year, however, none to take my eyes off the prize. Because I realize now what it is that I must do. I must dig deep into the pits of depravity that people are expecting of me, and I must delve even lower. I must embrace the destruction of which I’ve been associated with.

I must use the hate that has built up inside of me from all the jokes, and the whispers, all the taunts, and I must unleash it upon those of whom are forced to stand in my fucking way. Because I’m going to win because this is my chance at redemption. This is my chance to try and claim back an existence I cast aside in order to win an I Quit match…

I’m going to win, not because I deserve the recognition. Not because I’m a better fighter than anyone else, not because I can hit harder, or kick faster. Not because I can become creative with a weapon in my palm and not because I can take the physical abuse that stop people’s hearts just watching it.

I’m going to win this because deep down inside I know what I need to do, and what I have got to achieve it. I know that I’m not going to give you some type of catchphrase for you to remember me by, like how I’m going to put my opponents

SIX…

FEET…

UNDER!!!

Or the now infamous words of the Specter Mantra-

VENE…

VIDI…

VICI!!!

Or hell, not even what everyone else is thinking about how I’ll “Survive and Conquer!” because they all think somehow that joke’s original. No, this year’s event will be remembered deep down for one thing and one thing only, which will only be realized once I reach up and claim that million dollar prize….

…And that’s just how much of a monster I have to become…for the chance to be human again.

Signed

”The Ghost” Adrien Specter.

[Johnny Rebel]

Rebel Rousing - The Finale

"The End"[/center][/size]


APW Offices
Two Weeks Before Survive and Conquer

“You better not screw this up!”

President Jeff and Johnny Rebel were standing mere inches from another and screaming at the top of their lungs.

“If you would have, y’know, left some actual talent on this roster than maybe we’d have a fighting chance! You can’t expect me to lift Overdrive to another level when quite frankly, I’m playing without a full deck!”

Can you believe this guy? I voluntarily stepped out of active competition for the chance to keep his fledgling brand afloat for a few weeks and *this* is how he repays me? You’ve got to be kidding! President Jeff went on vacation, wiggling his toes in the sand on some beach, and the moment he comes back, he’s on my case! If he wanted someone from APW to win Survive & Conquer, perhaps he shouldn’t have chased away all of our talent to Asylum.

“Playing without a full deck?” President Jeff huffed at the thought. “I handed over the reigns to you while APW was at its highest peak! You aren’t fooling anyone… you are the reason why Overdrive can’t keep anyone on the roster. There wasn’t an easier gig in professional wrestling. You could have thrown darts at pictures on the wall to book the show and it would have been a success. You couldn’t even do that right.”

“You’re unbelievable, you know that?” Rebel tosses his arms in the air. “Go back to your circle jerk on whatever island you’ve been the past few months and leave the wrestling business up to those who actually know wrestling.”

“You’d love for that to happen, I’m sure,” President Jeff remains unscathed from Rebel’s schoolyard tactics. “However, it’s obvious that APW needs me here. While I can’t legally remove you as general manager of Overdrive until your contract runs out, consider this your thirty days notice.”

President Jeff smiles as Rebel becomes unglued. “Simply Put” stomps his feet, while screaming, “You can’t do this!” Jeff simple nods as Rebel turns to exit.

“Hey Johnny,” Jeff stops him. “If an APW member doesn’t win Survive & Conquer… I’m holding you personally responsible!”

-
-
-

Rebel's Condo - Chicago, Illinois
Ten Days Before Survive and Conquer

"That's a lot of pressure to be under..."

Michael Andrews was the only person able to speak truth in to Rebel's life. Rebel was successful in shutting everyone else out of his life and was perfectly fine living without any council. However, Andrews stuck by Rebel's side through everything. If this truly was the end for Rebel, Andrews would be the only one who understood.

"Yeah," Rebel responded half-heartedly, barely lifting his head from the book his nose was buried in.

"Whatever you're reading there must be awful interesting for you to be so wrapped up in it," Andrews said. "If we're being honest, I didn't even know you could read."

"Funny," Rebel said. "I'm doing a little studying. I figure if my job is coming down to whether or not I can outlast ninety-nine other megastars, it would do me well to do a little research."

"What kind of research?" Andrews said. "You can't do your homework on that many people in such a small amount of time. There isn't enough tape in the world. Besides, with your schedule in Phoenix and TFWF, is simply isn't possible."

Why is everybody always harping on my schedule? It's the pace that I've chosen to keep! There aren't very many twenty year veterans that can continue to go at the same speed that I've done over the past few years. I don't need to watch tape of the lot entering this rumble to know that they are all the same. Each one a carbon copy of the next! Who's going to surprise me?

"That's for sure," Rebel agreed. "I'm thumbing through the APW almanac and looking over the former Survive and Conquer winners. Maybe I'm the only one in the world who thinks that I actually have a chance to actually win. I've come too far and I've done too much Overdrive to simply watch it slip from my hands. I'm not that find of the pathetic saplings that have claimed victory previously... but obviously they have something in their toolbox that has helped them win."

"You're really serious about this, aren't you?" Andrews said.

"I don't really have another option," Rebel responded. "I just can't let go of APW."

What was I thinking? Am I thinking? This time last year, I wouldn't have pissed on APW if it was on fire! President Jeff has repeatedly stacked the deck against me and made it impossible for me to succeed... why in the world do I care about this place

"Level-One," Rebel blurted out.

"What about Level-One?" Andrews shot a confused glance in Rebel's direction. "Don't tell me that bastard came crawling back to you! You've carried him long enough."

"No," Rebel laughed. "The very first Survive and Conquer happened almost 4 years ago. The APW wasn't nearly what it was today but Level-One was the belle of the ball. He certainly knew what it meant to have Jeff pull out all the stops to try and make sure he didn't walk away the winner. He was forced to enter the ring as the first entrant and made to outlast the entire APW roster. Now, I couldn't give two left testicles about Level-One but there is something that spurned him on to victory."

"You're a fool," Andrews snide remarks rolled off the back of Johnny Rebel. "What's it going to take for you to admit that you're jealous of all the attention that he receives? He's always played you like a fiddle."

"If you think there is anybody on the Overdrive roster that will outshine Johnny Rebel," he responded, "Then you're sadly mistaken... Level-One included! There isn't an ego on this roster that can rival mine. That isn't even an option. I'd say maybe Kurt Noble, but he's gone so far off the deep end, he's probably dry-humping the bare end of a watermelon right now. Level-One was the first one to win this thing. Like it or not, that's the way it is."

"So, what is it?" Andrews asked.

"Confidence," Rebel didn't waste any time in responding.

"You're telling me that *confidence* is the key to winning Survive and Conquer? Even you can't buy that." Michael tried to reason with Rebel.

"You have to believe that you're good enough to outlast ninety-nine of the top megastars spanning across the best organizations in the world. If you don't think you can win then there isn't any point in even entering. And the belief that you can win allows a person to take risks. It allows you to challenge yourself and move on to new achievements. There will be a time when I'm in that ring and the entire lot of characters parading around me will have their sights set on me - we both know that I'm not the most well liked here, I've got to be prepared. They will immediately fix their eyes on Johnny Rebel and try and eliminate him before the tables are turned and I can eliminate them!"

"I don't even have a response to that," Andrews said, obviously frustrated at Rebel's reasoning.

"There's a circle of success here," Rebel responds. "Success breeds confidence, and confidence builds success. Who is more successful than me in the wrestling world right now? C.J. Gates? Kyd Dynamo? Scorpio? The list isn't very long and it doesn't include anybody from Survive and Conquer... that's for sure. I'm not so different from Level-One. Winning this thing involves one part confidence."

"Go on," Andrews reluctantly adds. "What else is added to this cocktail?"

"2012 belonged to Victor Hades," Rebel said.

"And has anybody heard from him since?" Andrews asked. "This is a completely useless exercise. These guys are worse than Ace of Base - one hit wonders!"

"Not Hades," Rebel said. "He had an attitude that set him apart from everyone else in the contest. He had an air about him that really made him different. An arrogance that told the world, 'I don't care about you!' There aren't any friends here. There aren't any alliances or teams working together. When I'm standing in the middle of that ring and everywhere I turn there is someone else that wants to rip my head off. I have to have that same thought process."

"That's exactly the type of attitude that's going to get you trampled. You have to have somebody on your side or you aren't going to survive!"

"It's war, Michael," Rebel answered back. "Teams will be split up and competing for the right to claim the top prize. There has never been such a collection of talent in one match and each and every person is simply fighting for the right to move on to the next stage. That's not my attitude! I don't want to simply survive. I want to conquer! I want to stand supreme at the end of the night knowing that I've defeated one-hundred percent. I'm going in with the mindset that simply advancing to the next round is failure. Winning is my only option."

The whole world is rooting for me to fail... I don't need Andrews jumping down my case on top of that.

"This is my territory! This is the house that I built! I'm not going to allow some halfwit attitude to show up in my house and take what is rightfully mine. I'm walking in to a minefield where every step could be my last. Do you think having a passive attitude is truly going to benefit me there? I don't think so! Confidence combined with a killer attitude is going to lead to me winning this whole thing."

"And what does Ryan Ruckus bring to the table?" Andrews asked.

"I'm impressed," Rebel said. "You know your APW history! Ruckus brought an arrogance that is completely unrivaled in the history of wrestling. It seems that perhaps arrogance wouldn't mesh well with confidence but as much as success breeds confidence, confidence breeds arrogance! People get it twisted all the time that arrogance is a bad thing and I disagree completely. I'm confident that every time I step in the ring, I'm the better man. That's arrogance!"

"You certainly don't have any problems in that department, Johnny," Andrews zinged.

"If you watch Ruckus, the whole world knew that he was walking with a purpose. When he entered Survive and Conquer, he didn't just waltz in to the ring. He went in with purpose. He knew that at the end of the day when he'd stare in the eyes of each and every member of the S&C match, he'd see weakness. He'd find that weakness and exploit it for what it was worth! That's arrogance. That's what someone needs to win this match. That's what I need to win this match."

"He is probably the most hated competitor in the history of this match," Andrews laughed.

"He *was* the most hated competitor," Rebel smiled. "Ruckus may have a long history in the APW that many can't match. I can. And I will. Confidence, attitude, arrogance."

"Yeah, yeah," Andrews begins. "It's what's going to win you Survive and Conquer."

"You're finally starting to catch on," Rebel said. "It's about time! That brings us to last years 'winner,' and I do use that term loosely... Allioth Starre."

"Who let that guy in Survive and Conquer to begin with?" Andrews playfully quipped. "I wasn't the slightest bit impressed over his few appearances on Asylum!"

"With Starre, it's not about what took him to the next level. It's not about what he found deep down inside to outlast such stalwarts like Johnny Knuckles. It's what happened to him after he won! He disappeared like a spineless jellyfish. After he won such a prestigious honor, he wasted it. He became nothing. He became a distant memory."

"So, truthfully," Andrews said. "You learned nothing from him."

"That's about right," Johnny responded. "There is a lot to be learned from those that have gone before us. Confidence, attitude, and arrogance. All three needed to move on."

"Lucky for you," Andrews said. "Three areas where you excel."

-
-
-

London, England - Wembley Stadium
Hours Before Survive and Conquer

The scene is rabid as the London fans prepare themselves for a hectic evening of APW wrestling. When all of the sudden the APW big screen kicks to life with:



The fans roar in disapproval for the APW Overdrive general manager as "Simply Put" Johnny Rebel pokes his head through the curtain and makes his way out on the stage. He struts down to ringside with assistant Johnny Diamond standing immediately behind. He gets in the ring where he's handed a microphone from ringside announcer Nicky Paige.

"Welcome to the very first, and last, edition of simply put, the best show on earth!"

The crowd doesn't enjoy Rebel's obvious attempt of a pun.

"Here we stand on the preface of one of the greatest events that this business has ever seen. It's a shame that I'm going to have to ruin the whole thing for you and reveal the winner hours before the first entrant even makes his way to the ring! Ladies and gentlemen, I've pulled some strings as general manager of the flagship brand of this great organization and have declared that tonight, I'll be winning Survive and Conquer... and I'd love to see President Jeff try and argue with me. So, with that being said, let's have a rousing round of applause for the legend standing before you!"

The crowd doesn't succumb to the temptation and immediately shows its displeasure of Johnny Rebel.

"Since I've actually got to go through the motions of competing tonight before my hand is raised in victory... I've taken the liberty of glancing over the list of those who might stand in my way and quite frankly, the list isn't very impressive. There are the usual suspects. Sally Talfourd, Johnny Knuckles, Terry Marvin and Anthony Bailey; big names on the biggest stage. You have the pretenders that are strictly filler like Nick Watson, Jair Hopkins, Young Mannie and Stefan Raab. We all know that the only reason Jeff allowed them in the match to begin with is so there would be someone for me to throw over the ropes. It wouldn't be much of an entertaining show to see me stand in the middle of this ring for two hours!"

"Then there are those like Kid Dynamo that probably couldn't find his way to the center of a tootsie pop. I can't wait for the opportunity to send him packing for the second year in a row. Then you have those like Branden Harvey and Shadow. I'd love nothing more than to embarrass them right here in England. But I'd beat them in New York. I'd personally toss either one of them over the top rope in Toronto. I'd toss them around in Africa. Wherever we lock horns, I'd reign supreme. I've listened to everyone around here run their mouth until their blue in the face. I've got one thing to say to all those folks: when my number is called, they're going to bury me upside down, so the critics can kiss my..."

Rebel pulls the microphone down as the crowd is glad to finish the sentence for him.

"For all the rest of you that I couldn't be bothered to remember, let me fill you in. I'm the beginning and the end of Action Packed Wrestling. It's no coincidence that when I signed on the dotted line that APW's stock went through the roof and the rest of the world began to take notice at what was really happening here. Let's be honest here - if we were to take a straw poll for the reasons of why you even signed up for the Survive and Conquer event... the majority would raise their hands are say for the oft chance they'll go nose to nose with Johnny Rebel. It's now reached unprecedented levels and without me involved, ratings would plummet. The interest would start to wane!"

"At the end of the day... I'm the only survivor that this place has ever known."

"When Kurt Noble strolled in here and planned to shake the APW upside down. Where did Jeff turn? When Level-One hit the biggest dry-spell of his career and needed a place to hitch his wagon. Where'd he run? When he couldn't handle the rigors of running such a boring, useless, waste of a two-hour time slot - who did he beg to save his soul? Johnny Rebel. That's who. It wasn't Malcolm Drake or Xavier Jacobs. It wasn't Alex Anders. It surely wasn't Piter Svoboda."

"It was me!"

"When the biggest free agents were considering their next stop - they looked around and weighed their options until they realized that the only place they'd ever make it as a big star was APW because Johnny Rebel was running the show!”

“Who has been the only constant in APW over the past two years?”

“It was me!”

“I've watched star after star take a hiatus from this place and walk away for the chance at making a few quick bucks elsewhere. I was loyal to a fault. Blood, sweat, and tears each and every night.”

“It was me.”

“It is me!”

“It will always be me!”

“And If I don’t do what I’ve promised. I’ll walk away from this place and never look back…”

SIMPLY
F’N
PUT!

[Trevor Hyatt]

To Conquer

Means to overcome many obstacles.This is the life of a man who’s accustomed to a life surrounded by morals of mild seclusion.Professional wrestling was the only thing I was ever good at. I didn’t have a wicked jump shot or a machine like arm. So I’m a third generation athlete my father and grandfather did this before me.Being the son of “One & Only” Seth Hyatt isn’t what it’s chalked up to be.The guy really did try to be a great dad but he was mediocre at best.Thinly lined veils covered my eyes as I stepped out onto my balcony of my New Jersey condo.


The wind whispered into my air, the absent touch that of a ghost. Another trip downward into battle with me at the center is coming. Is it meant for me to conquer all you see? Quid pro quo this life I live gives and it takes. When life gives me lemons I can no longer find myself to crank out a good pitcher of lemonade. It’s nothing against the beverage but life’s not bitter sweet. My life is simply floating inside its own bile like a cancerous liver. My phone goes straight to voicemail these days. I don’t want to be a part of the world that exists currently.

In time I’m going to be a part of the newly apparent. Everything was so convoluted with prejudgment of my character. So, should I be like everyone else? Should I just waste my time talking solely for the purpose of hearing my own voice? There isn’t much to go on but pure simplicity. No longer shall life be filled with complexity. Everyone sees the glass half full.I have seen the glass as it stands still.

There’s nothing in the glass as it’s filled with nothing.My soul was filled with liquid but it’s now nothing.Professional Wrestling was my baby and I took care of it for a long time. When my good friend Outkast died it spread onto my child.And with the snap of my fingers and a quick bat of the eyes she was dead.


My baby girl named wrestling was nothing but a corpse.They sent me flowers and emails saying get better. I never truly got better but I’m here aren’t I. I never truly got better but I’m in a match with ninety nine other lost souls. I found God in the middle of the desert, with a hole in my shoe and a bullet in my head. I found reason in the bottle of Jack Daniels, the smooth sounds of Alice in Chains and a willing groupie.


That can be satisfaction for most of you but it’s not for me. The obvious course was gone as was the average world. The modern style decorum of my condo didn’t do me any justice as I laid face down into my love seat. Memoirs were written down to describe my adventures in the long haul. Yet, there isn’t much I’ll rather do than spoil my future in the realm of wrestling.I didn’t understand how this thing worked. It’s sort of like shaking a snow globe without the stuff whirling around. Now, will you follow me through this journey? Can I count on you to reimagine this life without sorrow? No longer shall wrestling be a dirty word at the tip of my sacred tongue. In order to survive ninety nine men and women I’m going to have to lose myself in protecting my child from harm.



My baby will see her daddy rise to the top of the mountain once again.You see professional wrestling has been filled with villains acting as of Ted Bundy, Ed Gein and Charles Manson.I see myself as the John F. Kennedy, Christopher Reeves and Mohandas Gandhi of this profession.My truth shall hold self-evident.The truth is I’m nothing like these other competitors I’ve already been in five star classics and I’ve already traveled the world.The money isn’t something I want.I only consider myself competing at Survive & Conquer for a chance to do something impossible.



I used to be a silly boy, and then transitioned to a naïve man, now I’m a wise man.And for the wise man this is his last shot at showing the world why he’s “Simply” Trevor Hyatt.The silence would have been golden except for the faint knock on my Condo’s door.I didn’t want to open the door but my legs betrayed me.I opened the door to come face to face with my father’s friend Eddie Vedder.The lead singer of Pearl Jam let himself in and sat down at my dining room table and I joined him. I wasn’t in the mood for talking but I’m a Pearl Jam fan in my own right.

Trevor Hyatt:“So, is this Intervention? I’m very fine these days.I’m not crying over a dead wrestler who meant so much to what I do.I know my father wants to keep tabs on me Ed. Hell, a man of your stature should be at a club or jamming out on tour. I’m tired of him involving himself in my business. He’s my manager that’s bad enough.Historically so it doesn’t’ matter what’s’ on the table I’m going to win Survive & Conquer.You know I’m ready for this Ed.You do know that… Eddie?”

For some reason I couldn’t continue my question as suddenly the room was spinning and I wasn’t in front of Eddie Vedder or at my New Jersey condo anymore. I was simply in the darkness again. I was on a trip onward into the blackest night where a faint abyss lies. Then suddenly he couldn’t hear his own thoughts or see anything but faint memories. Good morals provided him with a life amongst thieves. He never did anything to hurt anyone. The kind hearted Hyatt was born in Trenton, New Jersey to Seth & Paige Hyatt. Paige was Miss New Jersey of the year 1970 and fell in love with Seth who was a wrestling sensation. The couple wanted the best for their son. Seth already knew what the future held for Trevor. Like him he was going to become a great professional wrestler.

At age 13 Seth started to substantially train Trevor in the art. When he was just seventeen years old Trevor Hyatt wrestled in a match for C.E.W. Canadian Elite Wrestling liked the look and high flying ability of Trevor Hyatt who was more luchadore than his father and grandfather. His debut match against Nigel Erickson set the tone for his career. Late in the match he was down on the canvas staring up to the ceiling as Nigel set up for his tope rope body splash. Nigel almost nailed it in unique fashion Trevor dodged the move and rolled him up for the victory.


Trevor had beaten the light heavyweight champion in his first ever wrestling match. That was enough to propel him into superstardom right? No, he was regulated to being enhancement talent all over the world until his dad got him signed to World Classic Wrestling. Richard McDaniel was the president of the promotion and he during a sit-down between the Hyatt men he proclaimed his ultimate goal for “Simply” Trevor.



Richard McDaniel: “I’ve never seen anything like your son here Seth. He’s learned from the best wrestlers all over the world and he’s got something. I want to bring him in right away to feud with Gregory Crumb. Yes, Gregory is the number one contender to your World title at this time. Yet, this is to only be seen as I want to have you two boys clash in that very ring. The owner Jeremy Henson doesn’t like the Crumb kid. He says he’s not the type to take this company into the 21st century. I see you guys feuding over the World title in no time.”


Trevor was smiling until he heard McDaniel hint at a match between the two of them. He shook his head before looking at his father. He and his Dad had never faced each other before. At that time with the brief tag team contests he never even got close to his father at wrestling events. The fact was very obvious they had a strained relationship. And he didn’t know whether he could work a match let alone win or lose to his old man.


Trevor Hyatt: “Richard I appreciate this opportunity but it’s not for me. Tell Mister Henson if he expects me to stay in WCW then he’d have to remove me from this storyline. I don’t think my dad and me have to feud on national television as we have bad blood in reality. And if we even ever have to promo against one another that truth would become apparent. So, you can take my program with Crumb and scrap it. I want to be a part of this company as much as the next man but there’s something as a man I won’t do. “



Richard McDaniel was shocked to hear Trevor turn down this Main Event storyline. Trevor trapped into his sub consciousness remembered that day all too well. It was the day he turned down his only real Main Event push on the national stage before his only world title run in Ring of Hardcore. “The Hammer” Adam Young would have to call him stupid at this point in his career. McDaniel just looked flustered before excusing himself for a moment. Then the words that flew from his father’s mouth set the tone for their avoidance of each other in their runs in World Class Wrestling.



Seth Hyatt: “Are you afraid of your old man Trevor? We’ve been discussing this for years ever since I’ve trained you. I was going to bring you onto the national stage and make you a star. Now, you disrespect the president of this company and the owner all in your first meeting. Why, turn down the Main Event spotlight? Huh, this isn’t a business where you have to earn this position. Son, take the ball and run with it. If you don’t take this I’m never going to pull another string in this business as long as I live. I’m the champion this could have been your big break.”


Trevor stared coldly at his father without saying much. He knew that this was the only shot he would have. He didn’t care if he would become another jobber. The opposite happened though as he was propelled toward the cruiserweight championship winning it two times. He even was the United States champion in the promotion. He went onward to join Ring of Hardcore in early 2002 after WCW fired him due to new management. His father Seth Hyatt was retired at that point and the company didn’t have much use for him at that point. In the summer of 2004 Trevor Hyatt teamed with the Canadian from Bronx, New York Edward Croft.

The tag team known as “East Coast Foundation” went on to capture four World Tag Team champions. During Edward’s final days as part of Ring of Hardcore’s roster Trevor turned on him breaking up The Foundation so to speak. It was the first and only time Trevor Hyatt was booed and most likely will be the last. Trevor cut his signature long hair and was portrayed as a more serious athlete than a highflying crowd pleaser.

He defeated Croft in his final ROH match before defeating “the Hammer” Adam Young for his only World heavyweight championship at the 2009 IPPV “Mark of Legends”. During Ring of Hardcore’s first tour of the UK he was interviewed by the sun. He described himself as a man who would do anything to survive. And that was true.No matter how loved or sometimes hated he was he still was a flawed man. Awaking face down on the couch I’ve finally beaten my own haunting memories.


The sweat pouring down my face as its 10:00 a.m. in the morning. I promised my sister I’d meet her for coffee. Getting dressed was the least of my problems the sleeping medication didn’t do much but cause hallucinations. I’d talk to Dr. Watkins after Survive & Conquer next Sunday about that. At the Starbucks in Cherry Hill, New Jersey was my sister Sarah, nephew Gage and my brother-in-law Edward Croft. The Croft family were happy to see me as I was them sitting down at the table next to my sister adjacent my nephew and friend Edward.



Edward Croft: “I’m surprised you could make it out of bed Trevor. You really didn’t sound too upbeat last year after y’know… Your sister and I have been thinking that you shouldn’t wrestle again so soon. I mean you can win a 100 man battle royal next year. You should know this day was coming you need help. When’s the last time you slept without having flashbacks about things that made you angry. The fans may support you and you may give them a reason to cheer. But, they don’t know your mental state. Sleeping pills only worsen the cause of what’s wrong in your life.You never wanted to be a wrestler that’s the big problem here.”



I stared at Edward for a while before smirking at my friend. You see I had a dream Eddie Vedder come to me to try to break me out of my funk. But in turn I was thinking of the wrong Edward. In all my recollections I couldn’t imagine this meeting. My life has come back full circle to the man I casted out of the picture in order to gain my very first World Championship.


Trevor Hyatt: “You can’t stop me from doing this Edward or Sarah. Gage will know that you were a great wrestler with multiple world titles. Hell, you are still in your twenties with a long future hiatus or not. I took to many risks man. My knees were reconstructed and I have a metal plate in my back. I don’t know how long I have to show the people my worth. All I wanted to do was to spite my old man. I didn’t fall in love with wrestling until the day I beat Nigel Erickson. World Class Wrestling, Ring of Hardcore, AAA and the like didn’t break me out to success. It was the victory in Canadian Elite Wrestling that propelled me into the career I’ve had so far. I can’t give up Survive & Conquer this is my only shot. I can’t think of anything else I wanted to do in life than to toss out 99 other people for a shot in the history books.”




Edward sipped on his mocha latte thinking about the history between them. This wasn’t like the old days where they teamed up or when they even fought each other. This was Trevor trying to have one last run while Edward was taking a break due to his son. Sarah didn’t know what to say. She didn’t care what her brother did as long as it made him happy.




Sarah Croft:“I heard Dad is supposed to be prepping you for the big battle royal. I think that’s a bad idea considering every time he’s around you try to up the ante. You don’t have to one up what Dad has done to be a Legend. A true legend is defined by what he’s done than the accolades he’s gained. You changed the face of professional wrestling. You weren’t afraid to make your name for yourself without being on national television. You were only in one big promotion before NEW and APW that was World Class Wrestling. There’s nothing you can’t dream. And there’s nothing you can’t accomplish. You’re my big brother and I know that you’ll survive. Because being in Dad’s shadow and finally becoming your own man takes a lot of survival. And Trevor you accomplished it the day you told Dad about you weren’t going to allow him to get you championship opportunities.”



Surrounded by the people you love is magical. It does something to evoke the human soul. The sky’s the limit most certainly and I’m going to reach for the top. Sarah and Edward had different opinions while dealing with my current state. I finally put the death of Outkast aside to finally get back to what I love and that’s professional wrestling. I enjoyed my time with my family before boarding a flight to London, England. The United Kingdom has always been a staple into mainstream wrestling.


The crowds have interesting chants, they are always attentive and who doesn’t love a good cup of tea.While I love Iced Tea when it comes to Hot Tea I only drink it if with flu. I checked into the Berkeley Hotel without many problems. The last time I was checked into this hotel was December 2002. So, nothing short of awkward silence was expected from anyone.I put my bags into my room before searching for a local pub. I settled for The Old Star. The sheer amount of irony in the pub’s title was enough to hook me in. I sat at the bar ordered a pint of ale in silence.I was drinking my ale it until I asked the bartender a question.


Trevor Hyatt: “Mind if I smoke in here.”


The bartender mentioned a smoking section but instead I downed my pint and went outside. The Old Star was filled with families with kids. Why would you bring a child to a pub is beyond me. Yet, I was enjoying my time back in London. I went behind The Old Star before lighting up my cigarette. The nicotine swelled up inside my lungs until I exhaled. These things cause cancer but I’ll die a happy man. I take the cancer out of my mouth. The man I wanted to see Chad Warwick had arrived. He was my personal cameraman and I had called him from my hotel. I didn’t tell him much but where I’ll be and that I’m going to deliver my first real promo in months.




Trevor Hyatt:“God made me for a purpose. And I’ve found that purpose. I have a gift to entertain everyone in this world. Maybe wrestling isn’t your cup of tea but I can move you. London, England is going to be holding Survive & Conquer in a little under four days. And on January 27th, 2013 the chapter will be closed. This old star has nothing left to prove. This old star has some new tricks in his bag though.


No longer shall you have to wait for me to overcome depression. Hell, I was messed up. Who isn’t messed up when someone they cared about died? You know that kid was an impressive talent and a loss to this profession and to all. Between NEW’s London brawl and this match I don’t which is tougher. This is my first chance of survival. And only the strong survive right? Hell, that’s Charles Darwin’s way of thinking of it. In this world of natural selection you can’t be weak.


You can’t lie down when the going gets tough.Even if you feel like it’s too much. About time this goes viral I’ll be with my father prepping of what to do in this battle royal. Only one person walks out with one million dollars. Only one person walks out with the bragging rights. On a scale from one to ten I want it the most.


I need this the most. I need to know how good I am. Number thirty eight is my identity to those who never seen me perform. I am only a number to them. And I have to earn their respect, admiration and applause. A few months ago I was crying on my knees. There wasn’t much left in my body. I was visited by an angel in my sleep. He said do not mourn on borrowed time. The time that’s borrowed can always be returned.


And that means you can’t cry your life away. God knows your upset, seeing your pain and wants you to overcome. In order to survive you can’t sit there in your own fluids. You need to get up and face the judgment of your peers once more. I’ve had battle scars over my illustrious career and they’re just souvenirs. I’ve had money and that’s just a materialistic vice.

All I need is the fans by my side and this will come to pass. If Jesus made water into wine then I can make suffering into reward. I want my opponents including “The show” Terry Marvin to know I’m here for a reason. And that’s to give these fans what they want.And that’s to crown a winner of the 2013 Survive and Conquer event. Wembley Stadium I’m going to indeed show you why I’m “Simply” Trevor Hyatt. To survive is to conquer. To conquer is to survive. This won’t be for not. This won’t be forgotten.My performance dies with me as a Legend. This still means something.”



I didn’t stay there after what I had to say was off my chest leaving again toward an unknown destination. Of course I was going back to my hotel and in the morning train with my father at a local gym. The unknown I’m speaking of though is my future. I don’t know what is next win or lose. All I can think about is the past for some reason. It was a short conversation between me and my former tag team partner and friend Edward Croft. It was before our first match as a tag team where I basically didn’t know what to say. It was an awkward moment but set the tone for us as a unit. If it wasn’t for Croft I probably would have hung my boots up long ago.




Trevor Hyatt: “Bruce Cameron wanted us to team together for a reason. I’ve nothing left to offer this company as a singles competitor. Croft already having been a former World champion here I’d expect more of his sense in pairing us together. We are two good highflyers from around the same area of living. So, it’s marketable to capitalize on those fans but what’s the big deal.”





I remember it like it was yesterday. Edward didn’t know what the big deal was and it was about ten minutes before Showtime. He didn’t want to give me a speech as I was older than him. We didn’t know if we liked each other at this point and time. We saw each other around the locker room and were friends with the same people. But, we never had the time to mesh and this wasn’t obviously time to mesh. With ten minutes before our first tag match we couldn’t exactly know each other’s daily schedule.



Edward Croft:“So you deem our teaming like a play of vicissitudes. Yes, changes were made but none of them unfortunate. I’m a Canadian raised in Bronx, New York and you are a third generation Jersey boy. If teaming us together helps Ring of hardcore grow then I’m all for it. We might know each other’s favorite movie or who we took to our senior prom. Yet, we are both men who want the same thing in this business. We both want to make it. We both want to be Legends. So tonight we go out there and show them why together we’re “Simply” the peoples’ favorite.”


And with that we went out there to face Insanity Rules. The tag team of Butch Mantel & Gregory Keith was defeated in 20 minutes and four seconds. Not that I was counting at all back then. Basically in all I’ve had a good, going on sixteen years in the business. And the rest is “Simply” history.

Dare to dream!

WORDS:4,000
TAGGED:Opponents
OUTFIT: This
NOTES:N/A
LYRICS: Animal I Have Become by Three Days Grace
CREDIT: CaeJae@caution2.0

[Tritch]

[Warning: Any racial slurs or views expressed in this piece are simply the created personas of the characters involved, not how I actually feel. Nothing in this piece is meant to be demeaning or discriminatory. Apologies if I offend anyone, it was not my intent.]

---

January 25th, 2013 – Cell B-28

A clear mind. That’s what I need. And I need it fast.

Tonight, I hop on a cargo plane that will take two of my friends and I to London, England for the second time. The first time, the three of us were headed to TFWF’s week of the Extreme Tournament. I thought that was big.

This is bigger.

Sunday, I will step into the ring and be expected to outperform, outwrestle, and outlast ninety-five other athletes in an over the top rope battle royal. Then, a cage will be lowered and I have to be one of three people to escape that cage. After that, a street fight begins and in order to move on I cannot be pinned. And when I make it to the final two, a cell will be lowered and I have to beat the shit out of the runner-up in a Hell in a Cell match before climbing a ladder and grabbing a million dollars out of the sky.

One… Million… Dollars…

Other people might buy a car. Move into a new house. Invest it in their future. I will use it to pay for the hospital bills of the man I assaulted, to pay for prison fees and after that my house arrest fees. I will use it to compensate the people who have given so much to me simply for me to live my dream. To compensate the people who looked at a kid in an orange jumpsuit and believed in him instead of running away. To compensate the people who care about me more than my family ever did.

My motivation is different than the other competitors. It’s deeper. I have to win so that I can give back, not afford something fancy. I have to win so that I can I prove I belong, not that I am the best. I have to win so… I just… I have to win.

---

“It’s all about survival in here, man,” Kerry is flipping through the pages of the latest Rolling Stone magazine on the top bunk as I finish up my latest journal entry. “It’s like I was telling you a while back, when I got here I did what I had to to survive.”

“Yeah, and now you just sound like an idiot,” I chuckle, sticking the small pencil between the pages I just filled and close the journal.

“That may be, but I’m alive,” Kerry is an aspiring rap artist on the outside. He is incredibly intelligent, and speaks just like any intellectual Caucasian male. But when he got here, he adapted the persona of a ‘white boy,’ meaning a white guy who talks and acts black. “And I owe it to that stupid accent.”

“Wish someone could have told me that before I got here, maybe we wouldn’t be in so deep,” he closes the magazine and turns so that his legs hang off the bed and he has to crunch forward just to sit upright. He stares down at me, doing a set of sit-ups staring back up at him.

“You don’t understand just what you’ve accomplished, do you?” I take a second to ponder the thought before answering.

“I mean yeah, I get it. I’ve done what no one else has ever done, but,” I attempt to pause for dramatic effect, but he cuts me off before I even get the chance.

“But nothing. I’ve seen huge fucking guys come into this place and get broken in a week. You kept your chin up, you did you, and you fucking changed this place, man,” He hops off the bed and slaps me on the back as I continue my routine with push-ups. “You’re an inspiration, my dude.”

“But what do I do now? What’s the point of everything I’ve apparently accomplished?” Taking a break, I lean against the wall in deep thought. It’s been bothering me for a while. People look up to me in a place where everyone is considered scum. What makes me better than the rest? What makes me an idol in a world full of infamy?

“Survival. That’s the point,” he lights a cigarette, passes it to me, and then lights his own. “You did what you had to to survive, and not many can say the same for themselves. I had to become someone I’m not, but you did it by simply being yourself.”

“I’ve aligned myself with a neo-Nazi and a gun-running biker, those weren’t exactly my morals coming in,” I correct him with a laugh as I take a deep drag.

“But did you let them own you? No. You own them, and that’s what’s different about you. Not only did you survive, you stepped up and you fucking conquered,” he laughs as he sits on my bed looking at me. “You survived, and you conquered. Sound familiar?”

“Hopefully that translates to the ring, because that’s just what I’m going to have to do,” as I finish my cigarette I dive right into another set of cardio. Clear mind. Focus. Survive. Conquer.

---

January 25th, 2013 – Cell B-28

Back in Wisconsin, prison was different. I lived in a cell by myself, was escorted to the cafeteria for meals, and was allowed an hour or two of freedom everyday in the yard. I talked to no one, and no one talked to me. No one cared that I would leave the prison for days at a time to wrestle in the Extreme Tournament. No one cared that I was white. No one cared whom I was, or that I was there. I was simply left alone to do my time, and I liked it that way.

On August thirtieth twenty-twelve, I was transferred to the New York City Department of Correction in order to compete as a member of the Code Red Wrestling roster. Immediately, I regretted it.

The only bonuses that moving to NYC provided was the ability to train while imprisoned, and severely slashing my armored truck time each week. I will admit, when I arrived in New York I was afraid. I walked into the prison, a six foot five two hundred fifty pound man, and immediately a target was drawn on my back. Gang warfare, murder, rape, cliques, ownership, cellmates, these are just several of the things the DOC in New York has that Wisconsin didn’t.

And it scared me.

But as I learned the ropes, figured out how to compose myself and manipulate the system to my favor, the fear went away. I stood up to the gang leaders. I stood up to the murderers. I stood up to the warden. And now? I’m the top dog. I’m at the top of the food chain, and people fear me. I have my own clique of followers, and people come to us for protection and leadership. I did not let the fear I had swallow me up and spit out a shell of a man. No.

I survived.

I conquered.

And that is exactly what I intend to do on the twenty-seventh. I will hit that ring at the seventeenth spot, decimate whoever is left in the ring, and dominate the eighty-three people to come after me. Fear is no longer a feeling to me. It does not matter who is in the ring with me, it does not matter what they have done, who they have beat, what they have won. Nothing matters.

I will survive.

I will conquer.

---

My body does not appreciate the food I am forced to ingest. The way I work out, I need to eat a giant chicken breast and potato for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. But I get mystery meat and the occasional brownie; awful, terrible, rock hard brownies.

“This merging of the tables thing, I don’t know about it,” Calvin states plainly from his seat across the table. Calvin is the leader of a prison gang called the Skinheads, they are white supremacist neo-Nazis. I don’t like them very much, but I do what I have to survive.

“It makes sense. We sit together; we show dominance. What’s the big deal?” This is a question I should not have asked.

“What’s the big deal?” He smirks, setting down what is left of his bun and pointing to the man next to me. Marquis, one of my new followers, sits to my left. He’s an African American, which I wouldn’t normally consider an important detail, but here it is. “The big deal is that I have to sit with a nigger, a chink, and a fucking spick. That’s the big fucking deal.”

Marquis, the quiet type, slams his silverware down and stands up with a look of anger I have never seen in him before. Jet Li, that’s what we call the Asian Calvin referred to, gets tense but makes no movement. And Oscar, the chubby Mexican at the end of the table simply lets it roll off. But Marquis is not so quick to disregard. Calvin and two of the Skinheads by his side stand quickly to meet him, so I join them, holding up my hands in an attempt to calm things down.

“What are you going to do about it, spook?” Marquis pulls back his arm as if he’s going to take a swing, but Kerry is quick to jump up and grab his arm pulling him back. As Calvin looks on with his cocky smirk, holding his arms out to his side, I realize that I am just as angry as Marquis.

“You need to cut out the derogatory words if this partnership is going to work,” I notice my fists clench and the vein in my neck starts to pulse. I attempt to calm myself. This cannot happen. Not now. Not today. “We all know your viewpoint on other races, but you do not need to go spouting it off when you aligned yourself with them.”

“I aligned myself with you, not this group of fucking monkeys,” my hand jolts up before I can tell it not to. I grab his shoulder, hard, and shove him down into his seat, slamming my fist down on his left arm and leaning into his face.

“You will not speak to them like that any more, or we’re through here,” I’m surprised that the lackeys by his side made no effort to stop me, but I can tell Calvin is fuming. “When you aligned yourself with me you relinquished any power you had left. Remember that. We run this shit together now. You do not own me. You will follow my rules, or I will own you. Get that through your head.”

He says nothing. He simply grits his teeth, takes another bit of his biscuit, and then flips his tray over as he stands up, walking away briskly as his gang follows behind with shocked expressions. I think I have asserted my dominance.

---

January 25th, 2013 – The Yard

On the inside you have to learn to deal with different types of people. I was never one for labels or passing judgment, but in here you have to or you will get run right over.

This is something that translates well to this weekend. On Sunday, I will step into the ring with several different types of people. Most of which I have never had the chance to wrestle, or meet, or even watch wrestle. Hell, given my situation, I’ve probably never even heard of half of them. But there are a few I am familiar with.

Obviously Donovan Davenport and Adrien Specter are two that I am quite familiar with. In this match you have to put yourself first, but it is important to establish alliances to see each other through to the end. I have their backs, and I assume they have mine. People might ask why I didn’t mention Carlisle Cain. I do not like Carlisle Cain. I ran him over in the Extreme Tournament, and I will run him over again if given the chance.

Then there are people I know of from the tournament, but never had the chance to meet. People like Knuckles, Stall, Gates, Mania, McClean, Shields, and Saint. All of these guys made their presence felt in the tournament, and I will keep my eye out for them. They all did significantly better than I did. I want to make up for that.

A good example of those guys I’ve never heard of would be Roy Speede. The only reason I know his name is because he apparently issued me a challenge that was accepted on my behalf by my manager. Good luck to you, you’ll need it.

I consider myself pretty close to my boss, so clearly I know who Aubrey is. I haven’t had the chance to make her acquaintance, but she’s the boss’s girl. Can’t risk my job, so I won’t make a play to eliminate he, unless it’s her and I near the end. Have to respect my friend.

Oh, and who hasn’t heard of Black Death? Multiple time True Expert champion, and he even did a stint in my home of Code Red. I am excited to get the opportunity to prove my worth against him, hopefully our paths cross.

And then there are guys who came into my home and spit on its name. Guys like Johnny Rebel and Terry Marvin. If either of them happen to be in the ring at the same time as me, which is likely since I plan on being there to the end, I will do everything in my power to show them what CRW can really do.

But it doesn’t matter if you’re one of these people, or one of the people I’ve never heard of. In terms of preparation, I’m treating you all as equals. I will not underestimate anyone, and I will walk out of Wembley Stadium a millionaire.

---

Shoving the journal in my waistband I rise from the bleachers and head toward the building through the yard. My eyes drift from prisoner to prisoner, some of them nodding and smiling at me, some of them glaring at me with hatred in their eyes. I may have made a lot of allies in here, but my enemies are numerous.

“Ah, Rex,” his voice echoes from behind me, sending chills down my spine. I stop dead in my tracks, having just passed through the entrance to gen pop. “Have a minute?”

I turn to see that I am now face to face with Jack Richmond, the prison’s warden, and two armed guards with their rifles trained at me. A lump forms in my throat. You could be the biggest, baddest person on earth but when the man with all the power approaches you with two gigantic guns… nerves are allowed to kick in.

“Of course you do, you’re in prison,” he laughs at his own joke. I do not honor him with an answer. “I assume you remember our little chat the night you went a little haywire?”

A few weeks ago, there was an attempt on my life by a fellow prisoner. The guards turned their heads and allowed it to happen. I wasn’t going to do the same, so I fought back and sent them all to the infirmary. But when the guards finally paid attention to me, they decided I belonged in solitary and something inside me snapped. I sent several guards to the infirmary as well, breaking several of my own bones in the process.

In the solitary cell that night, Richmond promised me he would ruin my life. He thought he was going to be able to get the courts to reverse their decision to let me out for wrestling. He failed, clearly, as I’m on my way to London tonight. He also promised that if he couldn’t get it done, he would never put me in solitary again.

“Seem to remember several promises and deals coming out of my mouth that night, but for the life of me I can’t remember what they are,” he hits me with that grin that eats your insides away. “Guess we’ll just have to start over at square one.”

Gritting my teeth, I start to think about what might happen. On the day that I am scheduled to leave for London, he decides to tell me that all bets are off? Is he going to throw me in a cell to prevent me from leaving? Is he going to keep me away from Survive and Conquer?

“Now, the judge told me I was forced to allow you on this little London and North Carolina trip of yours. But I don’t know if I like the idea of you leaving the country,” my heart sinks. “Too bad it isn’t up to me. You get your wish this time Evans, but know when you come back your life will be a living hell again. You think those guys you mess around with in the ring are tough?”

A loud, fake laugh escapes his throat. I still do not grace him with a reply. He pats me on the shoulder, and my arm shoots up and snatches his wrist away from me. I get close to his face, allowing my emotions to get the better of me. The guns point at my face as I breathe on his neck.

“I do not like being touched,” the fear that glistens in Jack’s eyes for just a second makes the move worth it. He shakes free of my grip and takes a step back, looking at me with disgust. “I’ll see you when I get back, Jacky boy.”

My fists clench, and I shake out my muscles. He simply stares at me for a moment, almost as if he is confused, before turning his head and walking away with the gun-toting lackeys in step with him.

---

January 26th, 2013 – Somewhere above the Atlantic Ocean

The clean slate I’ve been looking for is almost attainable. I’ve been locked into the back of this cargo plane for several hours now. Most of it has been spent doing pull ups, dips, running laps, etc. Even found a few small boxes with incredible weight behind it to do some lifting.

That’s how I clear my mind. Choose one focus, set my mind to it, and work out until it’s all that is there. But this time it’s harder. Not only do I have Survive and Conquer to worry about, but also two days later is Code Red’s Crucible tournament. It will be the biggest opportunity for me in the company to date. I finally get a chance to get my hands on Garcia, and if you take it home there is a title shot and a second million dollars waiting.

It makes it hard to focus on one thing when all of these huge opportunities are happening at the same time. And my mind will never be completely clear until Brandon Garcia is silenced. I will be the one to shut him up, and I’ll do it at Crucible after walking away from APW with a trophy that says I’m better than ninety-nine other competitors.

What make me think I am capable of such a feat? What makes me think I am on par with the likes of Action Packed’s Victor Hades? Of Ryan rucking Ruckus? Of Galveston Island’s Alioth Starre? I will walk in with the same mindset they walked in with. I am determined to have my hand raised in victory. I have the ability to defeat every single one of the people I will encounter, and I will seize the opportunity.

I will be the 2013 winner of Survive and Conquer.

---

Not getting the luxury of flying in a passenger plane, the airfield we land at is fairly empty and quiet. Except, of course, for the limousine waiting for us just outside the plane. Gathering our stuff we bid farewell to the pilot and walk towards the limo. The door opens and Talon steps out with a smile.

“God is it good to see you,” I give him a brief hug and follow him into the limousine. “Okay Pierre, Wembley Stadium.”

“No hotel check in?” I ask him as we start moving. I quickly notice that he has removed all of the liquor from the vehicle. He is truly considerate.

“We’re headed straight to Wembley, have you set up for a press conference outside the arena. Then we’ve got to head in to get you all checked into APW and that business before granting them the mandatory interview you agreed to,” he chuckles as he hears me groan.

“I didn’t agree to shit,” I reach into my bag and pull out a water bottle and a pack of cigarettes. “Mind?”

“Course not,” he shakes his head, and slides down the seat so that his designer suit doesn’t get the smell of tobacco on it. “But then after the interview, we can head back to the hotel if you want. I’m not going to babysit you or anything, have plans myself, just want to make sure you hit all the things you are supposed to and not get into any trouble. You’ve got a big week.”

“I do, don’t I?” I let the cancer seep into my lungs, my mind drifting once again to the several different things in my life. So much for that clear mind. “Do you think I can win?”

There is an uncomforting pause. I think I just put him in a hard place. We’re friends, yeah, but I’m also his employee. He has three other top competitors involved in this match, not to mention his girlfriend. What gives me the right to ask him that question?

“Rex you’ve impressed me since I brought you on, and I see nothing but big things from you in the future. But we are also friends. I know what goes on in that head of yours, and I know what happened at High Stakes,” he leans forward, slapping me on the leg hard and it causes me to snap out of it. “You can’t let losing get you down. Whatever happens in this match, if you win or lose, if you last ten seconds or ten hours, none of that matters. What matters is that you did it. You stepped up, and you believed in yourself, and you made that effort to prove yourself to the world.”

I lean my head against the cold window, taking another deep drag and exhaling the window as I stare out at the snow drifting to the ground. Though his words don’t exactly tell me I have what it takes to win, his voice gives me reassurance. The determination is there. I will win.

I will survive.

I will conquer.

[caincrw]

(The scene opens to Carlisle Cain, long-haired, teary-eyed, non-shaved with a purple v-neck and black jeans. He sits there to make you feel terrible, like you don't know his story, teh story about him having two broken legs and still coming back for more..but he wonders what you think, what do you think about a guy who put himself into two tournaments in three nights. Fucked in the head right?...he still sits there thinking...)

"I stand here wondering, wondering why the fuck I ever did this to myself. Why did I enter two tournaments the first time back? I had two fucking broken legs and here I stand still willing to fight, still willing to go out there and prove myself to everyone, maybe I did draw into the middle of the pack but that didn't help my chances. I'm still stubborn as ever, still the same person I was 5 months ago when I ended up in this joint. Maybe I don't have fear because of what my life has been like, because it has been nothing but a fucking struggle, just like all this Crucible shit...don't believe me? Take a look for yourself...

-11 days before-

(The scene opens to Carlisle Cain in the middle of an alley, his face, clothes and looks aren't visible because of the dark night in downtown Brooklyn. There is however, a man standing across from him, we do not know his alias. He could be a wrestler which would make him a face or a heel, a superhero which would make him a villian or a hero, or most possibly a regular guy which would make him a gentleman or a prick. The sound of someone blowing the tobacco from their lungs is heard, most likely the man considering Carlisle has dropped the alcohol and tobacco. A few seconds pass and the man starts a conversation, revealing his alias. As he speaks, picture a gangster from Chicago.)

(Man):Kid, I've known you your whole life. All 18 years, I watched you grow up like you were my own son, treated you better than my own and even skipped important days in my kids' lifes just to spend the day with you and your father. That's why I'm here right now Carlisle, that's why I will always be here. I've lived here in Brooklyn for 60 years of my dreadful 67 on this earth. Just days after Micky Cohen got taken in my family moved here. My father was a gangster, so after all of it happened we moved here because he knew his bussiness in Chicago was done. I was 18 when I met your father at McGill University in Montreal, moved back when I was 21 but yet I still made trips down there to see you and him. Because when it all came down to it, I knew your father was the closest to an actual family I ever had.

(Cain): Then why didn't you join the Marines with him ?

(The man lets out a deep breath as he takes in the deep shot Cain just put to him.)

(Man): Carlisle, we both know you didn't waste time out of your day and the gas in your car to come down from Bronx and give me grief about what I didn't do in my life. This is about you, not me.

(Cain spits on the ground and looks up at the man.)

(Cain): Yeah your right, we also know that you didn't go with my father because you were inlove with my mother! You were nothing but a liar, and you knew that my father was going away and that's why you kept coming back. No no, not for him but just so you could make my mother fall inlove with you, but it didn't work because you were and still are nothing but a little Chicago bitch!

(The man walks over and grabs Cain by the collar of his coat and pushes him against the brick wall.)

(Man): YOU LITTLE BASTARD! Keep your mouth shut, because I wouldn't want to break those new goddamn legs!

(Cain pushes the man off of him leaning against the wall, his shadow revealing a smirk on his face.)

(Cain):Go home Wayne, cook a steak and sit on the couch with the little dog of yours. That's the only thing an old man like you can do.

(Wayne): And all a little bitch like you can do is wrestling in a pair of tights for a couple thousand a year, your father would be ashamed.

(Cain): You want me to fight back huh Wayne?!

(Wayne gets in the face of Carlisle Cain and yells.)

(Wayne):No Carlisle, I want you to have the guts not to fight back!

(Cain):Why are you doing this Wayne? Trying to get me to do everything you couldn't finish for yourself?

(Wayne backs up and shakes his head.)

(Wayne): They say true friend stay loyal Carlisle, and that's why I'm here right now... because your father said "You never leave a soldier behind." and he lived that expression, because when his team died he went down with them.

(Carlisle): My father was always true to his word, wasn't he ?

(Wayne): Yes Carlisle, Yes he was.

(Cain holds back the tears as the memories of his father Jimmy swarm through his head.)

(Wayne):All that steak talk made me hungry, let's go get a few...i'm buying.

(Cain nods as the two men walk off into the streets of Brooklyn looking for a classy restaraunt.)

-15 minutes later-

(They now sit at a restaraunt, a leather booth to be very to the point. We now see Waynes' face and the clothes they are wearing, Wayne looks like a 40 year old man with the knowledge of his actual 67 years, he wears a top hat, leather jacket with a white undershirt, his hair slicked back. Cain on the other hand has a green v-neck on with his Fox coat laying next to him, his hair down to his chin slicked back revaling that he has major flow.)

(Wayne): You know Carlisle, you are the Code Red Wrestling target, personally I don't give a shit abouth what the ESPN says, they go on about Brandon Garcia being the motherfucker to beat in this tournament, his odds being the lowest at 3:1... I don't give a fuck. You're the man to beat in this tournament, fresh new legs, a winning attitude and the intentions of taking the bragging rights of Crucible and shoving it right down their goddamn throats!

(A woman in a black outfit comes over to the table, she puts two menus on the wooden pieces that assemble the table and sets them down, one for Wayne and one for Cain. Her nametag reads "Julie".She is bend over a bit as she turns the menus vertically, cleavage showing. Wayne looks up, he is obviously not looking at the nametag but he starts conversation before he is caught.

(Wayne):Julie is it ?

(She looks over at Wayne flashing a nice white teeth smile, he winks at Cain as he looks on..disapproving.)

(Julie): That's me.

(Wayne): So here's a question for you, did it hurt?

(Julie looks over at Cain who smiles at her, she looks back at Wayne and shoots hima dirty look, he raises an eyebrow as she shoots back at him.)

(Julie):When I kicked you in the jewels for hiting on a girl half your age ?

(Waynes' face starts to blush as Julie smiles at Cain and walks away, Wayne picks up his menu as Cain giggles.)

(Wayne): As I was saying...

(Cain):For the love of god, continue something you're actually good at.

(There is an awkward silence for a good three minutes as the both skim their menus, Wayne is the first to close his. He looks at Cain who is still skimming.)

(Wayne): You know Carlisle, I believe you can win Crucible, you have the guts that no one else in that tournament has. I mean, you had your legs replaced just so you would get the chance to wrestle again. To me, that takes a lot of courage and it shows that you have what it takes to go all the way and become World Champion. Yes, maybe you were a little into the alcohol, the tobacco and maybe even a bit of weed but you got through it and now the best gift of your life is on the way... the Code Red Wrestling World Heavyweight Championship.

(Cain puts his menu on the table and closes it, he looks at Wayne who is already looking at him.)

(Cain):You're wrong Wayne, the best gift of my life is the baby taht my girlfriend is currently carrying.

(Wayne):So you're going to give up the sport you love just for your family ?

(Cain goes to respond with a little bit of an upset look, just then Julie comes back.)

(Julie): All set ?

(Wayne):A medium-rare steak and a beer please sweetheart.

(Cain): A well-done steak and a water please.

(Julie smiles at Cain after she has the order written down. She walks off as he talks to Wayne.)

(Cain): This isn't the time Wayne, it isn't about me giving up on anything. I won't make that choice until Crucible is over.

(Wayne): Carlisle, if you do quit it will be the biggest mistake of your entire career.

(Cain looks around the restaraunt and then back at Wayne.)

(Cain): No... the biggest mistake was coming back..

(Cain gets up and tosses on his jacket, he digs in his pocket and pulls out a fifty dollar bill, he lays it on the table.)

(Cain):Keep the change.

(Wayne watches in absolute aww as Cain walks out of the restaraunt.)

-Back to the start-

"Why the hell did I do that? Why did I get myw restling career and information tied up with some old geezer who I can barely remember? Is it because I am still a little kid isnide? Because I'm nervous about being a father? Or is it because he is really the one to help me win Crucible and Survie And Conquer? Only time will tell, but all I know is that when that time does arise, I will be holding a CRW World Titrle Shot and the cash prize of Survive and Conquer...because I AM THE FUTURE!

...

...

...


What do I think about Survive and Conquer you ask?

...

...

...

I THINK ITS A FUCKING JOKE!

...

...

...

Everyone knows that Carlisle Cain will win Surviev and Conquer, because I am the future and I will quickly rise to the top, fuck having broken legs I have two new ones that are deadlier than anyone else in this competition!

...

...

...

People have lately been asking what I think about guys in this competition. The answer to that is... I know a lot of people in Survive & Conquer but that doesn't mean I will hesitate to go out there and take someone out, nor does it mean I will give up on winning just so the guy I have the best friendship with can win. NO! It's nota bout that! Survive & Conquer is about me going out theer and proving to the world that I still have it, that I still have the skill and endurance to wrestle. That I am not just the ring guy or the announcer... I want everyne to see that I am THE FUCKING FUTURE!

...

...

...

Because everyone knows that I mean bussiness and that I am not scared of a fight, fuck even William Bateman backed out on me, I won the Television Title in my first ten matches in code Red Wrestling, all the otehr people in this competition need to realize that it isn't another episode of Meltdown in Halifax, another edition of Overdrive in Brussels , another match on Asylum in Tokyo, this is FUCKING SURVIVE AND CONQUER! AND IT IT IS IN FUCKING ENGLAND! INFRONT OF THE WHOLE FUCKING WORLD! AND IF I HAVE ANYTHING TO FUCKING DO WITH IT I WILL EB TEH MOTHERFUCKER WHO WALKS OUT WITH THE BRAGGING RIGHTS! BECAUSE I AM THE FUTURE!

...

...

...

You fatasses, you scumbags and you brainwashed children need to realize that...MY FUCKING ANME IS CARLISLE CAIN AND I AM A FUCKING WARRIOR!"

(The scene ends as Cain throws a beer bottle on the floor.)

[gladiator]

Two years before survive and conquer.

I laid in the hospital bed, My daughters sat around me. My smallest one didn't understand and kept trying to hug me the pain would shoot through me. But I couldn't shout or scream. She just loved me to much. My wife sat beside me her dark green eyes still red from crying. She tried to hide it she has been involved in the business for a long time but this was different we had both taken it to far. Children had cried that day not just mine but my fans those that bought my merchandise wore my t shirts. Cheered me believed I was their hero. He changed me he made me tap into a dark side that I never thought possible. That's why I laid in that bed. It was a punishment that I fully deserved, I turned my back on the very people who made me great and I became just like everyone else that's when I realized what I had to do. Mesterio Raine is a dark dark man, a sadistic bastard but he made me see after we almost killed each other that it was time for me to leave.

Five days later at Odyssey Wrestling the Coliseum. The Arena goes dark and then it lights up red as Dance with the Devil begins to blast through the arena as I made my way through the curtain, Slower than usual but I was moving. They stood for me and cheered like never before. I smell it the excitement the adrenaline. The smarks as they are known in the business they where cheering for me. The man they had once told couldn't wrestle, That I was a just a merchandise machine to keep the young fans happy now they where actually chanting my name. No more boo's. I smile under my mask as I make my way down the aisle I raise my hand in the air as the crowd pop even more. I shake my head its unbelievable the change in them all. I make my way up the steel steps I feel the muscles like razor wire against my tendons. I wipe my feet on the apron and step through the ropes. Some ring hand who's name I didn't know handed me a microphone. I waited as the crowd silences I speak to them all of them.

"Its been a week since I laid it all on the line against Raine I'm as surprised as anyone to have made it out here tonight but I had too. First of all I want to say thank you to all the well wishes flowers and gifts I received it meant so much to me. "

Some of the crowd are becoming unsettled as he continues.

"So I bet you are all expecting me to come here and boast how I took the whirlwind that is Mesterio Raine and I kept up. How I told you all I could. The thing is I don't feel great, In fact in all honesty is I don't feel good about it at all in fact I wish I had never had the match got embroiled in this bitter rivalry with him."

I was hiding my sadness under my mask, as more of the crowd seem uncertain of what's going on.

"The match changed me, The whole feud did something to me."

I heard my voice changes to a quieter tone with sadness as the crowd grows more silent.

"I don't blame Mesterio Raine he was the perfect villain. But I followed him down his dark path he led me by my hand but I made the decision to lower myself. I became his equal his mirror image, Every dark deed he did to me and mine I took it one step further. I saw a side of me that scared my family my children. I saw how the fans my fans the kids who sat at ringside they stopped wearing my mask, They stopped smiling at me. My own kids stopped smiling at me. That killed something in me. I have no one to blame but me."

I stepped forward favoring my left leg. I felt the tears come the king of the geeks was stood their crying

"I can't do this any more. I can't pretend it didn't happen, I can't pretend I didn't turn my back on the people who have stood behind me from the very beginning. I won't lie to them or myself anymore. So to the follows of Damage to all of you I say thank you. Tonight I announce my retirement from wrestling."

As I moved over too the ropes, his limp still prominent. I climbed through the ropes, and drop to the floor and I began a slow lonely walk to the back.
I stop at the top of the ramp way just before the curtain and I mouthed thank you as the crowd where stood chanting please don't go. I raised my hand and took a bow. My final good bye. Those memories the pain of that day it still haunts me that I should have stayed is it my fault the world of wrestling has declined could I have saved it?
Its been two years the mask still fits, Two years with no pain no fears and no nightmares two years of being able to hold my children, being home to read them their bedtime stories. I've even taken to helping them with their homework, Although that one I won't miss being as its bloody Afrikaans and my soul knowledge of the language is to ask for coffee. So why am I coming back. I've asked myself this question a lot.

Damage is sat in a huge chair, his mask is securely fastened as the lights come up we see the worlds biggest geek is not alone, On his knee is a puppet of well himself, Damages right hand is firmly embedded where the sun doesn't shine. The puppet even has Damages red and black mask down to the white eye sockets. The puppet looks at the camera and turns its head to the side. Damage speaks to little Damage

"So your getting back in the ring, after you gave up you walked away"

Big Damage moves the puppet head up and down making it nod as little Damage speaks, Faster and a little more high pitched obviously Damage is doing the talking but his lips do not move.

"Yes oh mighty one I am, I'm going back on my word. I am breaking my own rules, My own decree of defiance."

Damage looks down at little Damage and continues to conduct this strange interview.

"You know your rusty, You know you may have lost a step or so they will say. Your opponents, your fellow competitors will try and eliminate you because of who you are, because you dared to come back."

Little Damage starts to laugh his eyes almost sparkling with defiance.

"You think that bothers me? You think any of them have any right to question me, Its because of them I have to come back, its because of them that the original King of the geeks, the only real hero in professional wrestling has to climb back in the ring."

Damage looks stern-fully down at the puppet before he asks another question,

"Explain what you mean by that little Damage"

The Puppet Damage seems to perk up and his voice gets just that little bit more insane as he almost begins to shout in the camera.

"You see I have watched and I have waited, I have waited for someone to step up and represent the true fans. The little kids that come every week and the sit and they wait and its the same old stuff the guys they cheer for swear and curse they talk about drugs and sex, Violence abuse they don't care about the fans. You see its become cool to be the bully and throw your weight around. So now I have to come back to make the fans smile again."

Big Damage stands and moves the puppet closer to the screen as it continues to talk louder and louder.

"There is more though its not just their smile its mine. I may have had the best time, I may have sat at home for two years and watched the world of wrestling die a painful death, But I've missed them chanting my name, I have missed the kids shaking my hand and asking for my autograph, I I've missed showing the world that living true to the hero code can make you the best in the world and that's what I was and its what I will show you again Sunday night."

Damage takes of the Puppet and raises his hand as he sits him on the seat as he does the curtains that where around the room lights begin to flash and a familiar tune begins to play. Damage bends down and picks up a microphone as waits as the backing track gets louder he smiles as he begins to sing

"Yeah, yeah"

The scene changes and we are by the pool with people tanning every where. He begins to sing as he moves between the Ladies tanning on the white loungers. As old out of shape men try and massage them with sun cream. They don't like it. Damage tears open his shirt.

"When I walk Down the aisle, The fans be screaming here's our guy"

The ladies stand up and begin to follow him. In almost a conga line
.
"Ninety nine men to beat, walking to the ring to take out some freaks, yeah"

Damage reaches up and makes a square shape with his hands around his mask.

"This is how It goes, red and black mask fans out of control,"

The women all try and grab him as he escapes by jumping on the bar.

"It's not kung fu I may be from SA but I have no Afro
And like bad sushi you all gotta to go"

The scene changes to Damage stood in a ring full of random wrestlers from all over the independent scene all craving just that little bit of TV time. As Damage takes them one at a time and tosses them over the top rope.

"Ah... There goes another body
Ah... There goes another body
Ah... There goes another body
Ah... Their all Out
Ah... There goes another body
Ah... There goes another body
Ah... There goes another body
Ah... I threw you all out"

Scene changes again as its a Video of Damage climbing the ring steps and wiping his feet on the ring apron.

"When I step in the ring."

He steps through the ropes his arms outstretched to make the cross shape

"Yeah"

The audience around the ring is filled with Damage masks random people no doubt wrestling fans as they start nodding.

"this is what I see"

The crowd now all start to make the OK sign as Damage begins to strut around the ring.

"OK"

Everyone freezes even Damage for a second until he continues singing and dancing

"Everybody stops and they staring at me
I'm gonna beat you all and I ain't afraid to do it, do it, do it, do it
I'm Deadly and you know it
I'm deadly and you know it"

Damage begins to on the drumbeat move towards the the ropes he climbs through still on the drumbeat and then down to the steps. Making his way to the barrier and ripping the protection of them. He then pulls the railing out and beckons to the fans who all follow him doing the same strut as he makes his way out of the arena with all the fans in tow. Still singing as he points to the exit doors of the Arena as he leads an army of Damage clones into the street stopping traffic as the all take positions in lines around the king of the Geeks.

"Yeah"

When I'm out of control, security just can't hold me off"[/color]
Damage point to a police car with the officers just leaning against their car unable to do anything.

"And when I've got you beat, I'm in the zone they can't hang with me"

He holds up his hand everyone goes quite for a second and then he says

"what
This is how I'll win. All you pretenders you have to go
When your headed to the floor,you better be nervous
Black Boots,Red mask ,It will be your funeral service
watch"

He points to boots and then his mask with a huge grin. Pointing up to the Arena side and the camera quickly whips round and we see the outside big screen is Damage throwing the independent guys over the top rope again and again

"Ah... There goes somebody
Ah... There goes somebody
Ah... There goes somebody
Ah... Over the top
Ah... There goes somebody
Ah... There goes somebody
Ah... There goes somebody
Over the top"

Damage raises his hands and every one stops dead and freezes he continues singing his voice taking on a little bit of an angry tone as he continues

"When I step in the ring.
Yeah
this is what I see
OK
Everybody stops and they staring at me
I'm beat you all and I ain't afraid to do it, do it, do it, do it"

He moves closer to the Camera and gets louder with a huge smile

"I'm deadly and you know it
I'm deadly and you know it
I'm deadly and you know it..."

Damage raises his hands slowly as the crowd of Damages begin to come alive again.

"I threw you out....
I threw you out....."

Damage looks out to the crowd as one after another they all raise one arm in the air each one shouting the next line as they do.

"Winner, winner, winner, winner, winner yeah
I'm the Winner, winner, winner, winner, winner yeah
I'm the winner Guys
You know I'm the winner guys
Yeah
I'm deadly and you know it"

Damage Laughs as he stands and the music comes to an end, the three or four hundred people all in Damage masks begin to chat to each other and shake hands as Damage moves closer to the camera he begins to speak in a low tone to all of the APW.

"APW survive and Conquer the name is Damage how you liking me now"

He turns and walks away.

[lancecarter1]

Lance Carter, Hank Sharpe – The Vice Squad. Miami’s premier crime fighting duo. Also North Atlantic Wrestling’s premier Tag Team. Four days after drawing with the Black Circle Boys in a street fight to become co-Tag Team Champions, they have returned to work the streets of Miami.

"Previously on ViceTV…"

The Vice Squad are cruising down the sun drenched streets of downtown Miami. They are singing along to the Duran Duran classic, Wild Boys when the police radio cracks into action.
Radio: Calling all cars, anyone in the vicinity of Downtown, pick up!

Hank picks up the radio...

Hank: Vice Squad here, HQ...

HQ: There's a 10-39 in progress on 24th Street...

Hank: 24th street, that's just around the corner...

HQ: Reports say that two punks are threatening a senior citizen...

Hank: Mugging got it, over...

He puts the radio speaker back on the dashboard and turns to Lance...

Hank: 24th Street Lance and step on it!

-Scene Change-

The scene switches to 24th Street, about half way along, outside a Starbucks there is a big commotion. The camera zooms in to show two skinheads with baggy jeans and bomber jackets trying to rag a purse from an old ladies grasp.

Punk 1: Just let go of the bag granny!

The second punk pushes the granny and she lets go of the purse. She falls backwards as they turn to run away, pushing people out of their way. No more than a second later, The Spyder pulls up on to the curb and Lance and Hank jump out. They rush over to the granny...

Granny: Little bastards! Stole my purse and knocked me down... ooh, my arse!

Lance goes over to tend to the old women as she sits shaking on the sidewalk. Hank, not wasting a second makes likes a banana and splits. He begins to put on a burn after the crooks. He runs around the corner and disappears. A few moments pass until Hank returns around the corner at speed. Behind him is a stolen sports car trying to make a quick getaway. Hank leaps to the side in super slow motion, screaming 'Nooooo', as the car misses him by inches and he lands on the cold hard concrete. Lance picks up the granny as she begins to rudely gesture after the sports car.

-Scene Change-

The Squad have given chase to the two muggers in their custom Ferrari Spyder. The sports car is causing havoc on the streets on Miami. Hank reaches into a glove compartment and gets out a police siren and puts it on to the bonnet. He presses a small button and it starts flashing and wailing. As the sound and flashing light goes out, people stop and watch while cars slow down to let them through. The sports car dodges in and out of traffic and drives on to the curb, sending people and trashcans flying. They follow in hot pursuit, closing the gap every second. They chase them down another street... right... right again... left... through a busy junction, narrowly missing another car. The thieves, starting to get desperate, start zig zagging across the road and driving onto the sidewalk. They knock one pedestrian over and he flies through a shop window. Hank gets on the radio again...

Hank: Come in HQ, suspects down Left Newton Street. Suspects have just knocked a civilian down, ambulance needed asap.

HQ: Copy that, over.

-Scene Change-

Powering down the street, Lance has to swerve to avoid another car that had to swerve to avoid the stolen car. The Spyder spins through 180 degrees and comes to a halt. The stolen car turns left down another street and away...

Hank: DAMN!

Lance: Calm down... We haven't lost them yet...

Lance slams his foot on the gas pedal and guns it back down the street...

Hank: Why are you going in the opposite direction to them?

Lance: You'll see...

Lance makes a sharp turn left onto a Raymeres Way and speeds past several cars. He makes another left turn followed by a right turn and then half way along that street turns up an alleyway. As they reach the end of the alleyway the stolen Mazda speeds along the road. The Spyder skids out of the alleyway and back into pursuit of the thieves.

Hank: Lance you are beautiful...

They are now deep in downtown Miami... There are very few cars and fewer people. The Mazda makes a quick turn to the right into an old multi-storey car park. They follow them in and up to the top floor where the Mazda skids to a halt and the thieves jump out. They run in different directions. Lance pulls the Spyder up alongside the Mazda and Lance and Hank jump out as the scene freeze frames.

"And now the conclusion…"

Lance gives chase to one thief who runs towards a fire escape while Hank starts to run after the other one, still carrying the purse who ran towards a stairwell to the roof.

Lance: POLICE! STOP!

The thief continues running and charges through the door to the fire escape. Lance whips out his gun as he follows him on to the fire escape. Lance looks up but can't see him, then he looks down and sees him already 3 flights down.

Lance: Stop!

Lance jumps down half a flight and then down the other flight. He fires a warning shot that misses the thief by about a metre. The thief looks up, worried but continues to run down the fire escape. The thief jumps down on to the first floor but Lance is still 3 floors up. The thief releases the quick release catch on the ladder. The ladder drops hitting the ground with a thud. He jumps on to the ladder and climbs down, going 5 or 6 rungs at a time. He turns and starts running down the dark alleyway. Lance jumps on to the first floor and leans over the railing and takes a wild shot at the thief. It misses him and ricochets off the ground. Lance jumps on to the ladder and slides down. He lands on the floor, turns and gives chase down the dark alleyway.

Lance can hear his feet, thudding on the ground as he runs, up ahead. Lance starts running down the alleyway and follows the thief down another alleyway to the left. The thief slips and crashes into some old boxes. He quickly gets up but this gives Lance chance to catch up slightly. Lance follows the thief across a deserted back street and into another alleyway.

Lance: Stop!

The thief continues to run, throwing boxes and old crates behind him. Lance jumps the rubbish and chases him out into an open factory yard with old shipping crates, trash cans and an old crane. The crane casts a huge shadow across the yard, as the sun is high in the sky. The thief runs across the yard and just runs behind one of the rusty shipping containers as Lance takes another shot at him. Lance follows him again and spots him climbing up a ladder on the side of the building. He could shoot him in the leg and incapacitate him… But then he would fall, probably to his death. No… he must follow him. Lance runs to the ladder and climbs to the top as quickly as he can. He gets there just in time to see the door, of an interior stairwell, swinging shut. He takes out his phone and keys in the number for the operator at HQ and rings it.

Lance: Yeah this is Lance Carter… Have followed suspect to the old Fisk factory. Suspect appears unarmed but require back up.

HQ: Copy that, over…

He puts his phone away and runs over to the stairwell. He opens the door with a low creak and looks down the stairwell. He hears a door slamming shut at the bottom. He runs down the stairwell, 4 flights to the bottom. He opens the door slightly and takes a look in. The place is empty except for a few old and rusty containers and an old conveyor belt. Lance can see the thief at the other side of the warehouse, trying to get through a big door but to no avail. Lance starts to run over to him, gun pointed at him.

Lance: Hands above your head!

The thief continues to try and break open the door…

Lance: Stop what you're doing now!

He stops and turns around. He starts to slowly raise his hands above his head but also edges to his left.

Lance: You are under arrest…

He suddenly turns around and jumps through a window. The glass smashes and flies everywhere. Lance runs up to the window but he is already gone. Lance uses his gun to break away the remaining glass and climbs through the frame. He drops a couple of feet to the ground below. He starts to run back round to the front of the building and into the yard. The thief is stood in the middle of the yard, with his hands above his head and is surrounded by 3 cop cars and guns pointed at him. Lance spots Hank with the Spyder, the other punk being handcuffed by some other officers. Lance walks over to join Hank inside the Spyder, who is on his phone.

Hank: Okay, so that's right? Thanks a lot Phil, that's some good info and Phil you better not be kidding me or I'll show everyone back at PD those photos of you in that Thai club...

Hank flips his phone off and puts it in his inside suit pocket and turns to Lance.

Hank: You want the good or the bad news?

Lance: Gimme the good.

Hank: Well, you’ve being drawn number 89 in the match.

Lance: Back of the net, my lucky number! What’s the bad news?

Hank: Phil was able to scope out some of the entrants and there’s gonna be a lot of tough competition.. Mac Bane, Adam Stryker, Guv’Nor, Juvi Juice, Doc Holiday.. It’s gonna be hard buddy.

Lance: Yeah.. I’m not sure if I can match up to the likes of them..

Hank: What the funk! You’re the Lance-Man.. I have faith in you.

Lance: If I can make it to the final stage I might stand a chance. I knew it would be tough when I entered but this is a chance to do something big, to fight on the other side of the Atlantic. It’ll be weird not having you in my corner though.. but all I can do is do my best.

Hank: Yeah but it should make us stronger in the long run plus it gives us the chance to show the rest of the NAW locker room what we can do on our own.

Lance: I’ll give it my best shot.

Hank: What’s the Vice Squad motto?

Lance: The 3C’s – Courage, Confidence and Cornflakes.

Hank: Trust in the 3C’s. Have the courage to go out there and do your best. Have the confidence to believe in yourself and your abilities. And make sure you have your cornflakes on the morning. With that, you can’t go wrong..

Hank pauses…

Hank: Everyone else will be giving 100% but that won’t be good enough. I know you’re better than that - give 101% and you will do it.

Lance: Yeah..

Hank: Yeah..

Lance: Funk Yeah!

Hank: Whatever you do, just do NAW and the Squad proud.. and make sure you deliver a little Cold, Hard, Justice while you’re at it.

Lance: This could be the start of big things for us in NAW. I can see it now - Vice Squad, NAW Tag Team Champs, Hank Sharpe TV Champion and Lance Carter World Champion...

Hank: I thought you were told to stop drinking before work?

Lance: Well it could happen.

Hank: It could.. but I would be World Champ..

Lance: Sure you would..

Hank: Would too!

Lance: Yeah but you would have to kill me first..

Hank: Can be arranged, I know people...

Hank looks at Lance and laughs...

Hank: Just kidding buddy...

Lance laughs and says something under his breath. They begin to start throwing bits of left over subs and doughnuts at each other (and yes, that's how all cops settle arguments). When they run out of ammo, Hank puts the Spyder into gear. Lance looks in the glove compartment and takes out his big pair of aviator shades.

Hank: What’s the next step?

Lance: Well I fly out on Friday from JFK but first I have a date with that girl, Tiffany, we met in the club up there the other night..

Hank: Oh yeah, Tiffany.. Sweet.

An intermission plays as Lance and Hank do their trademark dance, The Funky Monkey on a beach surrounded by extras.

THE DATE

Up until my little chat with Hank, I hadn't really thought about Survive & Conquer… But now it was on my mind… I was really glad I had being drawn 89th… I was confident that if I could get to the final four then I would stand a pretty good chance of winning whole thing.

There was still 5 minutes to go until 7 O'clock but I saw Tiffany walk into the bar. I waved to her and she smiled and started walking over. She was wearing tight, low cut jeans and a black halter top. Her blonde hair was like a golden waterfall, cascading down the back of her head… She was quite possibly, one of the most beautiful women I had ever seen… Even as she walked, heads turned to stare.

"Hi…" I leant in to kiss her on her cheek.

"Hey…"

"Can I get you a drink?"

"…Vodka and Lime please." She said with a smile, flashing two rows of perfect white teeth.

I bought her drink and carried it over to a table in the corner. We sat down together and there was a slightly awkward moment where we looked at each other and didn't say anything…

"So what do you do?" I asked her…

"I'm a waitress at Frankie’s" she replied… "It's a big posh restaurant. How about you?"

"I'm a…" I paused, unsure if I should tell her I was a wrestler… I mean, would she think I was just some dumb jock? "I’m a wrestler…”

"So you fight other guys in tight Speedo's?" she joked…

"Yeah, something like that… I'm also a cop in Miami."

"So, by day you’re a crime fighting cop and by night you fight other men?"

"That's me… Super-Cop…"

"I don't know much about wrestling… isn't it meant to be fake?" she asked…

"No… It's real… In fact, I’m wrestling this weekend in England at a special pay-per-view event held by a promotion over there…"

"Oh wow…"

"I think I have a good chance of winning…" I said with confidence.

I wanted to impress her but despite confiding my reservations to Hank… Now, in this moment… I thought I had a pretty good chance… Maybe Tiffany was having an affect on me. There would be some big competition but… I decided not to think about it… I looked at her and her beautiful blue eyes twinkled back. I hoped I hadn't weirded her out with my wrestling because she was a once in a lifetime date…

"So what do you like to do?" I asked her…

“Well I work most evenings, so I don't normally get to go out a lot. But I like to go dancing… go to the movies… go to the beach… I guess been a wrestler, you don't have a lot of time for recreational activities either?" she asked, quite sympathetically…

"Well yeah… I like to do general things… go to movies and stuff… This is actually the first date I've been on in ages…"

"Aww" she said quietly… which was actually nice to hear…

"Most of the time I'm on the road between Miami and the North East… I do get out some nights and get occasional breaks… But most of the time I’m doing police stuff with my partner who is also my tag team partner."

We looked at each other in silence again…

"You wanna dance?" I asked her…

"Sure…" she said with a smile…

We got up and walked over to the dancing stage. Some new modern dance tune was on that I didn't really like… but I didn't care about that, I was dancing with the most beautiful girl in the club. She was a great dancer… Unfortunately my dancing skills stretched as far as the Vice Squad trademark, Funky Monkey, so I felt a bit goofy trying to emulate everyone around me… But I soon picked it up and we danced for most of the night… In that moment… I would have said I could beat anyone… We eventually went back to our table and to get some more drinks.

"You're a great dancer… you're so natural out there." I said to her, still a little breathless, more from the heat of the tightly packed in people than the dancing.

"Thanks, you are too…"

I scoffed at her compliment…

"Nah…"

"Really, you are…"

"Not as good as you…"

We smiled at each other again…

The night drew on and after some more dancing and quite a few more drinks we decided it was time to go leave. I kissed her goodnight and paid for her taxi and watched her drive off, happy with the way the date had gone… It was great night and I was pretty much guaranteed another date…

When I got back to the hotel it was nearly 1:45am. The front doors were locked… I rang the bell and a doorman came and unlocked them for me. I could tell he was thinking 'what time do you call this?'… I got the lift up to my room and fumbled in my pockets for the key card… For a moment I thought I had lost it but I found it in my back pocket. I took my clothes off, except for my boxers and flung them in a chair and got into bed. It was so comfy and warm that I soon dropped off to sleep…

I was stood in a ring… It was down to me and an anonymous opponent… He ran at me and I ducked a clothesline… I turned around and dropkicked him into the corner… I ran at him and went for a splash but he moved out of the way and I hit the turnbuckle… He tried throwing me over the top rope… I was heading towards the floor… No, I managed to hold on… I rolled under the rope and got up, getting punched in the face… I fought back… I whipped him into the ropes and ran at him with a clothesline… We both went over the top and…

I sat up suddenly in bed… My eyes strained in the darkness… I looked at the digital clock on the bedside table and it read 3:06… I fell back on the bed and I started to see the intricate patterns on the roof, as my eyes started getting use to the darkness. I suddenly realised that I needed the toilet…

I threw the covers back and swung my body out of bed. My feet seemed to melt into the soft carpet but only for a few seconds, as the coldness sank in and made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. I wandered over to the bathroom, still a little groggy. I turned the bathroom light on and I quickly closed my eyes… It also made my head ache and I realised I had a small hangover… I hoped they'd let me fly tomorrow… As I entered the room, it seemed to get colder. The cold tiles underneath my feet made me long to be back in the warmth of the bed.

After using the toilet, I flushed it and washed my hands… I stared into the mirror above the sink and the man stared back… I splashed cold water on my face and rubbed my eyes… He was still there… Did this man have what it takes to get to the final stage of Survive and Conquer?

He nodded…

Did he have what it takes to win the event?

He just looked straight into my eyes for a while before finally nodding his head…

For some reason, I felt quite powerful… I felt like I could win the rumble… I wanted to win it, there was no doubt about that… but I felt like I could win it…

The man nodded and smiled, making me feel confident… Then he turned and left…

I switched the bathroom light off and got back into bed. It was cold now. I just lay there staring up at the vanilla coloured ceiling. Now I was awake and with the coldness, I was finding it hard to get back to sleep. I lay awake, thinking about the date with Tiffany and how great she was… Then the image of the man in the mirror flashed into my head with his confident smile… he was a winner…

The referee was holding someone's arm in the air and the crowd were going wild. Who was it? Was it me? I couldn't see his face… The referee moved out of the way…

I blinked and looked up into darkness, lit up slightly by the moonlight shining through the windows. It was raining, creating a gentle rhythm against the windowpanes. I looked at the clock and it read 4: 51… I thought about what Hank had said…

“Give 101% and you will do it”

I could tell that Hank believed in me… It was this eagerness and determination which was why I was glad he was my partner… Sure, he was a great competitor but it was our shared determination that made sure we could overcome any odds. But I knew that it would be tough getting to the final four, never mind winning the event.

Could I win it? Could I beat the likes of Mac Bane and Doc Holliday? Several hours earlier, dancing with Tiffany… I would have said yes… Now I wasn't so sure… They’re some of the best in the world and I was just a tag team wrestler…
But I was one of the tag team champions… a champion… a champion means something.. It stands for something.. Perhaps I could do it..

I finally fell back to sleep and when I next awoke it was 10:13am. I had a slight hangover so I took a couple of tablets. I got dressed into my suit and packed everything away… Wait… I was missing something… Tiffany's number… Oh wait, there it was on the table. I grabbed it and put it in my wallet and locked up and left. I caught a taxi to the airport, where I was due to catch a flight to London for Survive and Conquer where I would have a couple days to relax and prepare.

As I was sat in the waiting area, drinking some coffee from a vending machine, a small group of people rushed passed me… As they rushed past I heard one of them say,

"Good luck Lance…"

I looked up from the plastic cup and swirling brown coffee… It was a family with a small child… maybe 8 or 9 years old. He turned and waved. I waved back… Then they disappeared through Gate 4. I smiled… I took a sip of coffee, the kid's words echoing in my head… If some little kid thought I could do it… Then I didn't want to disappoint him… Not only did I want to win… I thought I could win…

I hope everybody is ready for a little Cold, Hard Justice ‘cos one half of the Vice Squad is coming to play.



Copyright Vice Squad Productions.

[J-Hop]

GET WELL OR DIE TRYING: NO REST FOR THE WICKED

I walk around with OJ's glove knowing it fit
Fif to the toilet we taking over this shit
The Yaowa waited, salivated like man I know I can spit
I was knocking for quite some time but you wouldn't open this bitch

“Asylum” – SLAUGHTERHOUSE

---------------------------------------------------------

“Jesus Christ, you look like shit!”

Staring at myself in the mirror of this … this self-peeling bathroom, the expression on my face, the ‘nappiness’ of my hair, the sloppiness of my attire. I really did look like pure, rotten, unsaturated shit. This ‘flu’ shit was spreading faster than the neighborhood slut, Regina at this point. It got everybody screwed up and coughing. Those above and below me, the hearing of constant coughing and raunchy, disturbing noises, it was an apartment that needed cleansing all the way through. For me though, I couldn’t do anything about it. It was a ‘lost cause’.

This flu, it caused more than sickness. It cost me to loose all that I had going forward in my career. I never expect to blame sickness on defeat, but I should’ve put in a last minute ‘rain check’. However, that’s not me. I fought with all that I had left but it seemingly wasn’t enough to overcome that of the rising star, Aubrey J. Parker and her ‘partner’, Logan Alexander. They took all we had and served it right back our way. I give it to them, they did well but they shouldn’t be partying over it.

Instead of worrying about past history, I was in need to worry about what was I say, fifteen to twenty minutes away. A trainer, someone Bailey had gotten me to hook up with as an alternative to that of my mentor, Juan Ramirez. As badly as I wanted to cancel the appointment, it was too late to do so. I needed to wake the hell up and get ready; stop squealing and moaning.

[ KNOCK, KNOCK ]

The bold sound of one knocking at my door, my head leaned and smashed right into the mirror, not cracking it but it was a loud thud. My head was hurting even worse than before. Thanks Jair, thanks for allowing yourself to get ‘fucked up’. Now you had to deal with a ninety-minute training session. Time for business.

“Who is it?” I asked the proverbial question, knowing exactly who it was to begin with.

“Sheila McCarron. I’m here for the scheduled training session you signed up for.” She said, as her voice sounded overjoyed.

My fate seemed to already be sealed. No backing out now. I walked, head aimed downward to the floor as I unlocked the five deadbolts on the door. Opening it, my head raised up and her facial expression changed from ecstatic to confused.

“Uh, I should come back another time.” She said, backing off slowly.

“No! No, everything is fine. I’m just a little ill. I’ve been heavily on the road for the past few weeks. It’s like coming down from Space after a long period of time. I’m perfect.” I said, knowing damn well all of what I just said was completely a lie.

Fact is, I didn’t feel like doing this shit another day. Also I had to learn to persevere. Plenty of people fight through conditions like this. While it’s rough, it makes you better. In remembrance to the quote, “What doesn’t kill you, makes you stronger”, I had to realize that in this situation. Hell, sweating it out might be good for me in the end.

“You sure?” She said, raised eyebrow and all, curious to seeing me look like a bum off the street.

“Lay your gear, work pad, whatever and let’s just get it done. I’m not letting my money go to waste!” I spoke with a clear intent that I wasn’t going to back out of this.

She nodded her head before setting down her gear. Her blue work pad was in her other arm as she dropped it to the floor before rolling it out. She stood tall again as she looked around, moving and pushing furniture. With my arms folded, I watched as things were spaced out further from me.

“You ready, Jair?” She asked, taking her shirt off as she was all ‘machine’ underneath. She had a body even a man would be jealous of. This chick wasn’t a joke.

I was in for the worst.

“First, we’re going to stretch. Follow my movements!” She said as she raised both of her arms in the air for the starting point.

Once her arms were in the air, she stretched them out wide before bending over and touching her toes. She then from that position, bent her knees, flexing them a few times up and down before raising back up to the normal posture. Her arms went back out wide before going up in the air. They remained in the air for almost a half-minute before flapping them to her side. The stretching seemed to be done.

“Wow, that actually, I actually feel slightly better from that!” I said, showing a rare smile.

“Don’t get happy yet, this is just the beginning. You’re going to feel like a hundred men just jumped you in an alley after this process.” She said as her words weren’t soothing at all. Yet again, maybe it was her plan to torture me both verbally and physically.

“Well, at least it will give me sense of what to feel come the 27th.” Rather than cutting my eyes and giving her the finger, I used what she said as fuel for the event, Survive and Conquer.

I just hope this shit would be out of my system by then.

“Get down on the pad and raise your knees to your chest!” With a demanding voice, she ordered for me to ‘fold’ myself with my knees to my chest. Easier said than done.

Seeing me struggle, she grabbed both my legs and pushed downward, causing me to yell in slight pain as I could see this was going to be a long, painful session.

“Let’s repeat this process a few more times!” She said as she had to be out of her mind.

She assisted with pushing down, to help with the ‘flexibility of the ‘crunches’. I couldn’t do this fully on my own at the moment but after a few, you could feel some minor improvements. She let up as I paused, stretching back out.

“This will help you in the long run with your flexibility, if you didn’t know or think about it. It’s going to hurt, but you’re going to feel so much better from it. I’m not trying to kill you!”

I wondered to myself if she put Bailey through these kinds of ordeals. I’m not going to complain, I actually felt good after a stretch and one set of leg exercises. My body hasn’t shriveled up yet so all seemed to be well.

“Time to continue, no breaks Jair. No breaks!” Sheila said as she stared at me below.

No rest for the wicked, it seemed like a pattern. Being on the road for the whole week and some and to come home and have a trainer put me through all kinds of hell. Yeah, perseverance was surely key in this environment. No doubt about it!

--------------------

“That’s it boy! Right, Left and another Right!”

My body was mad as shit with me with all of this work, training scenarios. I just survived through the mayhem that struck me the other day with that trainer. Now here I was today at “Golden Boy’s Studio” Wrestling and Boxing school, punching the hell out of the leather punching bag that was swaying side to side from the punches I just laid into it moments ago. Ramirez had a damn whistle in his mouth, acting like a Drill Sergeant.

“You’re looking good man, treat that bag as your worst enemy.” The uplifting words from Ramirez, he was all for getting me hyped up and ready for this war.

It was him who took part in it last year. I found myself laughing as he told me of how long he was able to last in that event, thanks to that of Johnny Rebel. He was steamed as shit about it. He wanted nothing more but to see me shine through this event. The feel of being truly a target to everyone’s eye. Keen senses were favorite in this kind of environment. Know your place in the ring.

“I don’t know if I can go any longer, homie. This cold is still trying to take rights over my body.” I told Ramirez as the whistle that was between his lips, dropped out. Ramirez just shook his head.

“Don’t let anything take over your body. That’s YOUR body. You have to fight through it. It wants you to fail. It’s against everything you want to do. Fight it!”

Fight it. It was going to be a difficult task to perform. The sweat, rolling down my arms as the details of my arm muscle were growing more visible. Work, work, and more work. Ramirez gazed into my eyes.

“You have to remain hungry, kid. You just came off a tough loss, losing your belt in the process. You have to fight back, you need to stand tall in the trenches man. You’re about to walk into a warzone, out of focus. Not good.”

Throwing fists into the punching bag, those words were sinking in heavy. I still couldn’t get over losing the tag titles but I also knew that in due time, a rematch would surface.

“Survive and Conquer, it’s going to be a huge learning experience for you. Don’t believe much into that team shit. It has its flaws too. It’s all about you, no one else.”

Yeah, that was going to be the toughest part. Coming in at the 44th spot, I was going to have to watch out for only me. Bailey, Williams, we would have each others backs but come time, we have to achieve our own goal of being a survivor. It is after all survival of the fittest. Stamina was key in all of this.

“Hey, can I grab a minute of your time?” Said the Caucasian lady who stood behind Ramirez with a camera man along her side.

“Sorry Miss … We’re in the middle of a workout. Come back later or something!” Ramirez said, throwing his hand out for the woman to ‘shoo’ on away from us two.

She held a disappointed look on her face. She and her camera man turned around as Ramirez looked to go back into ‘sparring’ mode. I paused his actions as I looked back into the direction of the young lady.

“Hey … you want that interview?”

She pivoted around on her left foot, her head slightly down as she nodded.

“Yes, just a minute of your time. I’m doing a bit for the city newspaper. I’m an intern and I needed something that was exciting to write about around here. That’s when your name popped up.”

God, flattery was a damn weakness. I could see that she was on a mad hustle to get something written in order to pass her class. I couldn’t let her down. Looking back at Ramirez who stood a few feet away from me, was biting down on his lip, seemingly disappointed.

“I promise it won’t be long!” She said as she turned to her camera man, readying to record this piece.

“Okay, so in a couple of days, you will find yourself amongst hundredth thousands of people inside Wembley Stadium in London, England rooting for you. How will you be able to handle that and remain focused at the same time?”

That was a good question from the young reporter to start out with, it was actually a startling question. I took a moment to think about it before choosing to answer.

“To be honest, it comes with the territory of being a wrestler. Although happy for the people cheering me on, I can’t let it get to me. I will have over fifty people to worry about once I enter that ring. Those butterflies will be roaming, no doubt. I just have to do what got me to this point. Battle.”

“In events like this, it’s likely that team work will come into phase often. Will there be a chance that you and Bailey will actually get to team up in this event?”

A smirk came across my face as I knew it was possible but the entry of order, it seemed like a long shot of happening.

“It could, I won’t doubt the possibility. Eleven and Forty-four, it’s a long, long ways apart. Anthony has the ability to outlast the competition. If it somehow happens, it will be a great sight to see. We look out for each other as a crew, as ‘brothers’, as a family. But really, when it comes down to it, we can only worry about ourselves. It’s going to be a massive friggin’ war in Wembley Stadium. Worrying about stuff like that is last on my mind.”

She nodded, approving of what was said.

“I wish you the best of luck in there. Pull a miracle for us!” The female reporter said as she held her hands in a prayer, taking a brief bow. She departed seconds later, as they both exited the facility.

“Heh, a miracle.” Laughing to myself, I turned around to see Ramirez exerting himself into the punching bag, power strike after power strike.

“I wish I had ‘KO’ strength to knock a dude out!” I said, marveling over the power in each of Ramirez’s fists.

“It’s in the DNA. I was born with this shit.” Arrogant as ever, Ramirez was, he was the best ever to do it. A multi-athlete. His skills were top-notch. It’s why I’m glad he’s my mentor.

“Well I wish I had your DNA.” I said, really wishing I had the ability he had.

He shook his head at me.

“Nothing is wrong with what you have. You got elite speed man. You’re small, light and fast. You just have to learn how to use it to your advantage. Speed kills, learn to use it.”

Speaking like a scout, he slammed his fists repeatedly again into the punching bag before stopping. Taking off the boxing gloves, he passed them back to me for use as he grabbed the loose white towel to wipe his face.

“You also need to stop being so damn nice. That woman had plenty of time to come back to gain an interview. You needed to work, not give material to an intern.” Ramirez said as he continued to wipe his face.

“Well, I looked at it from a different perspective. She was living on the grind, trying to find fresh material to write about. She wants to climb that ladder to success in her field. It’s similar to me and what I had to go through to climb the ladder. I’m just giving back.”

“Jair, always remember one thing. Nice guys always finish last!”

Well that was pretty much a message to remember. I always found myself to be the nice guy or that was at least to not be the bad guy. There were too many of them types.

“I guess you may have a point there. However I can’t change the way I am. I finish last, that’s a good thing for me going into Survive and Conquer.”

“That’s not what I meant in saying that!”

“Oh I know what you meant with saying that. Me being the good guy, being naïve, it will falter. We generally will finish last because we will always somehow get fucked over. Oh I know, Juan. I know.”

A smile crept on my face after saying that.

“I’m just saying, in this case, I don’t mind coming in last. If I can last to the end, I’ll have a good shot at pulling this out. Small, speedy, I can use that to help me out. Not just being a person pulling ‘De La Hoya’ moves around the ring, juking and diving out of harm’s way. Fight smart.”

Juan nodded his head.

“Yeah, all I can say is that you’ll probably do better than I did. You got madd’ credentials. You got good friends around you. Even if you don’t win, I know you want the million bucks but in due time, you’ll be making that kind of dough. Just stay on the right track.”

That’s what I hoped to do, stay on the right track. Kind of hard to do when every time you turn your head, there’s temptations following you all around. Peer pressure and people wanting you to fall into traps. It’s not a game. So staying on the right track, that’s a challenge all by its self.

“I think we should finish up on this training, Juan. I gotta’ get all I can get in before I take flight.” I said, fitting back on the white and black boxing gloves.

“Yeah, let’s get it in then!” Ramirez responded as he went behind the punching bag, sticking the whistle back in his mouth as he went to hold the punching bag in place.

This was it. It was time to get the last bit of training in before I shipped off to the UK. I heard all about the Wembley Stadium over there. It was going to be a blast entertaining the people over there. Being determined man, it was another key to hopefully being victorious. Not being thrown over the ropes, fighting like rabid pit bulls. Bee Gee’s “Staying Alive” and Gloria Taylor’s “I Will Survive” were fitting tunes to hum over repeatedly.

----------------------------------------------------------------

THE HUNGER GAMES II: STAY THIRSTY, MY FRIEND

“Define the word “Strength”. Sure it means in the form of being physically strong and imposing. Everyone gets that but do they get the other form of it’s definition. Mental strength, being able to remain strong during certain moments. How do I feel being considered as a ‘former’ champion, knowing that just week before last, I stood as one half of the current tag team champion. How do I feel overall? That question has been asked all week, did I take the competition too lightly, did I get to high up on the horse that caused me to tumble over. Nope. It was a just a moment that happens to the greats and the non-greats. They lose concentration for a moment, a moment that can and will cause you to fall.”

“There were a lot of things that were going through our heads. The other team took advantage, simple as that. Only a few have the ability to bounce back from defeat like that. Anthony has bounced back greatly from certain moments. I, myself while not holding any other titles. I’ve had moments where I wasn’t myself and with regaining concentration and focusing, I was able to bounce back. Some people can’t bounce back from failure. Like this for example, Survive and Conquer. So many folks are putting everything on the line in this match just for the money. When reality strikes them and they are on the losing end, they are going to go insane. The strength, the will to bounce back strong, some can do it, others will remain flat on their faces wondering why it had to be this way. Even the last man in this event, Leon Stone. Being the last guy isn’t always the ‘golden key’. He can come in and get bounced right out. Will he be able to bounce back or will that though haunt him for the rest of his career. It’s all about standing strong and knowing how to be mentally tough to not let the past keep you down.”

“I’m going into this thing like I do any other match. I might last a bit, I might get booted right out myself. Just fight the fight, enjoying myself and doing whatever I can to remain alive in battle. That million dollars is sitting pretty atop of everyone’s mind. They want the green dollar bills, fuck bragging rights in their case. I’m not gonna lie, I want that money myself. I can do a lot of good things with that money. For one, getting out of the ‘stink hole’ I’m in. Move to a better place, somewhere out west. I use that as my inspiration to remain hungry. I want to move up like the Jefferson’s too. I’m a man, living out a dream, while it may not be beneficial in cases. I’m out of the streets, out of prison lock ups. I’m on a straight and narrow path heading North. I’ve tasted gold, I’m happy about it. I’m going to taste it again soon enough. It’s kind of funny because I’m three spots ahead of one half of the new tag champs in Aubrey J. Parker.”

“We’re going to have our eyes locked on each other at some point. I’m proud of her though. She did everything the right way it should be done. Not many are giving her credit for that. She’s taken a lot of shit and she’s throwing it in their faces. She knows in a sense that we weren’t ourselves. Time will come again but for now, I applaud her efforts. If she’s still in there by the time my number calls, everyone will be hoping for us to lock arms and do battle. It will be a crowd pleaser for most folks but for me, it’s whatever. She’s going to dish out all she can to survive, I’m going to be doing the same.”

“There is the slight chance that ‘The Dying Breed’ will actually have a chance to team up in the contest. People find anything to get excited about. As I stated to the female beat writer, it all depends. I can’t worry about that aspect. I had to defend me and only me. Every person for themselves. It would be beneficial for both of us if we could do that but hey, we can’t win everything. We will look to represent throughout the evening. With “The Smooth One” taking on TJ for the TapOut Title and me and Anthony participating in this battle royale, one of us will walk out on top, that’s all there is need to be said.”

“Fighting back illness to compete, that’s a feat all by itself. The doctors wanting me to stay at home, in bed. I can’t do it. I can’t miss out on a chance of a lifetime in battling fifty six others for a shot at a million dollars cash and some bragging rights. I couldn’t pass up the opportunity. Three weeks went by quick since the announcement. Wembley Stadium is going to be rocking in full-force. Those butterflies will be in effect for a good minute until all sinks in.”

“I want to be a millionaire, so freaking bad but you can’t always get what you want, even when fighting for it, it can evade you. If I win, good deal. If Bailey can pull through and win, I’m damn happy for him. If anyone else wins it, enjoy it. That’s a powerful dose of money. Invest, save it, bank for the future. Buying expensive cars and other pointless shit, it will hurt you in the end. Be smart. All I need is a little bit to be happy. Like Ramirez told me, if I lose, hey … in year’s time, I will get there near that range of pay. Just staying on the road to success and not failure.”

“This is just me getting my foot ‘wet’, an experience of a lifetime. Putting on a performance in front of thousands of people. It can’t get any better than that. May the best man or woman win.”

[Eric Donavan]

Surviving the Dragon, Conquering the Flames

There’s something to be said for simplicity, for going utilitarian and minimizing distraction when there’s a point to be made. That’s the first thought to come to mind when we see the room before us: plain concrete walls that have seen better days, an old folding chair in front of a rickety table and a small television so old school that it still has a VHS slot (kids, ask your parents for more information). Light offered by the fixture above is bright to a near-harsh degree, showing every crack in the floor and walls, every chipped bit of paint on the table and gleaming as it strikes the Survive & Conquer poster which has been hastily taped up on the back wall. It wouldn’t be so potent if this moment weren’t being viewed in black and white, numbers and frame graphics evident as some kind of superfluous HUD in front of all we see. Voices are audible from somewhere outside the room, eventually made understood as a heavy, creaking door opens.

“…trust me for once. Everything is under control.”

Both the smile formed around the words and the distinctive brogue lurking within them perhaps gives away the identity of the speaker. His comment prompts a response from another, one whose voice is like thunder rolling through storm-ravaged mountains.

“You’re not taking this event as seriously as you should, Eric. A match of this magnitude, the first of its kind in the history of this business, is not to be dismissed. There are 99 other competitors in this match, some of them who you know from personal experience as dangerous competitors.”

“Sensei…”

That at least gives us some clue to the second person, though fans of the Irish Dragon would recognize that wrath-of-God voice from the first syllable. It belongs to the man known in his native Japan by the nomenclature Oni Kaminari, and to the rest of the world as Hiashi Shinsuma. Eric is within our sight and walking to the table before he completes his response to his trainer. He’s still a bit blurry, being so close to the ‘screen’.

“…I think you’re taking this TOO seriously. Do you think for a moment that I give a damn whether I win this match or not?”

The comment seems to shock the twenty-plus year veteran into silence. Eric walks further into the room, his image clearing up as he turns to face the direction of his entrance. His custom-tailored Armani suit is impeccable without a speck of dust or a thread out of place. His dark brown hair is restrained by a simple band at the base of his neck, hanging halfway down his back and his silver-framed sunglasses, ever-present, mask eyes so dark they’re nearly black. Eric watches as another more massive frame moves into view, adjusting his cuff links and almost smirking in the giant’s direction.

“In other words, it’s a joke to you.”

“You’re taking my words out of context. This match is not a joke to me nor am I taking it lightly. I’m just being realistic.”

“You’re being a defeatist.”

Eric lifts a hand and looks over the rings on his right hand as though searching for an answer within their glow. The one on his pinky, a gold affair with a large emerald and distinct engraving upon it, is his family’s signet ring…something he treasures a great deal from how he regards it. The other is also gold but simpler in that it has a few diamond chips and simpler effects: his ACW Hall of Fame ring. Hiashi, now standing off to the side with thickly-muscled arms folded across a barrel-sized chest, stares at his top student as he awaits a response. Eric sighs quietly and shakes his head.

“I told you just like I told Aurelei and everyone else when I put my name in the hat for this match, Sensei, that I’m in it for one reason above all others: to bring the wrestling world’s attention upon New Era Wrestling. Not because I need another accolade added to my long list. Not because my pride got the better of me or because I feel like I have something to prove. And certainly not because of the million-dollar prize, either, because if I do happen to win I’m just going to donate it to charity.”

Lowering his bedecked hand, Eric turns to his trainer and speaks in a firmer, more intense tone of voice.

“I’m not even here to get my hands on James Stall before I take my shot at his title at Evolution. This match isn’t about any one person in it but the spectacle itself. Anyone who thinks otherwise and paints themselves as that ‘one above all’ will just be making an ass out of themselves. Would I like to make a statement at the champion’s expense? I wouldn’t turn down that opportunity. Would I perhaps like to last until Tombstone makes his way into the match and have another go-round with my most intense rival in years? You’re damn right I would. And if it’s within me to do so I’ll fight my ass off to last to the end just for another chance to lock horns with my old friend Logan Alexander. But NONE of those, sensei, are why I’m here.”

Hiashi regards Eric with an unwavering stare and to his credit Eric doesn’t shy away from it. He locks eyes with the man who brought him into the business and who he’s gone round and round with between the ropes more than once. The silent battle of wills goes on for several moments before the once-titled Thunder Demon exhales and shrugs his shoulders.

“You’re set on this…this way of thinking and attitude about this match. I can respect that whether I agree with it or not. But…here?”

The Japanese legend gestures to the room they stand in and Eric looks around for a moment, unable to restrain a few notes of laughter as he shakes his head.

“With all the history in this room here, I think it’s as good a place as any. Besides, just look at me in this very moment: do you think I’m going to take it that far?”

“Whether I think that or not…you’re plotting something.”

“When am I not?”

“When you’re sleeping?”

Both men break into laughter at that comment, with Hiashi stopping first as he makes his way to the door out of our line of sight. He pauses and turns to Eric once last time.

“Good luck, son.”

The Irish Dragon nods to his trainer, watching his departure until several seconds after the door clicks shut behind him. Shaking his head slightly, he turns to face the poster with his back to the screen, his hands clasped behind his back as he stares at the promotional piece. His shoulders shake slightly as a ripple of laughter surges within him though it isn’t one we can hear. Without warning, the screen fades to black…

…and returns a few moments later with Eric in the same position in which we left him. The difference is that the view is no longer angled but dead-on and we’re back to full-color and crystal-clear HD. He’s aware that he’s “on” at this point, giving a half-glance over his shoulder toward the camera, but hasn’t deemed it necessary to speak just yet. Milking it for a few more seconds, he finally turns to face us with his patented smirk etched in place.

“APW fans and, in fact, wrestling fans across the world no matter your company of choice…welcome.”

The room is battered and broken and he knows it, but he still gestures grandly to it with a grin before walking up to the table, his hands coming to rest upon the back of the old folding chair.

“Right about here is where I’d tell you a little bit about myself, perhaps tout my accomplishments in the business…the titles, the milestones and all that rot. But something tells me that the good people tuning in for the lead-up to the biggest battle royal in history would just be bored by that, the same thing that no doubt half the participants in this match are going to do. So if not that, what then?”

Straightening up, one arm folds across his chest while the other lifts, stroking a neatly-trimmed chin thoughtfully. It stops short of being mockingly thoughtful though Eric makes no attempt to hide that he’s enjoying the hell out of this.

“How about some long spiel about how I’m going to dominate this match, throwing out every poor fool who gets in my path en route to one million dollars, a bucket-load of bragging rights and a shit-ton of confetti? How no matter the experience level, what they’ve done or where they’ve been, no one in this match is going to stop me from being top dog when the final bell rings? That’d sure work the other 99 people into a lather, wouldn’t it? But…”

Lowering his hands into his jacket pockets, Eric shakes his head again with a small grin.

“Not a chance. Maybe there’s another route yet to be taken…”

Slowly, Eric reaches up and removes the sunglasses from over his briefly-closed eyes. Opening up the inky pools, he stares at the camera almost coldly for a moment before breaking into another smirk.

“How about if I just pick out the people in this match who I’ve associated with in some form and talk about them? Oh, the secrets I could tell…”

One dark brown brow elevates as though he’d seen someone off-camera making an expression of interest.

“Like what? Well, how about Logan Alexander’s weird pre-match rituals? I’ve never seen anyone do that with a towel before, I’ll tell you that much. He could be in the circus. And who else…hmm…how about his partner, Aubrey Parker? I’d keep your valuables close to the vest in her presence if I were you, folks. She makes Wynona Ryder look like a kid stealing bubble gum. I speak from experience boys and girls. And AC Smith? He might have left law enforcement behind but he didn’t leave some of the…gear…behind if you catch my drift. We won’t even get started on Aurora Jansen because we’d be here all night. But in case you’re wondering, the rumors are true: she’s a screamer.”

Laughter peals from deep within the Irish Dragon’s chest, coming out clean and clear in the small room. To sharp ears there was an underlying chill to it, however. The same brand that emanated from his eyes when he unmasked them to stare at the camera a minute earlier. It would seem that the layers of amusement at his address were slowly peeling away.

“On a more serious note I could tell you a few hard-hitting tales about the fellow NEW members who are in this contest. The undying devotion and intensity of one Reya Serra as well as the determination and class of the No Limits Champion, Matt Slater, will be on full display Sunday night. This could be my first chance to compete against them and that would be an added bonus to the already-considerable privilege I have to appear in this match. But I would be remiss if I didn’t speak of two of the most dominant and powerful men I’ve ever been in the ring with, no?

I’m referring, of course, to the Television Champion, Tombstone, and the World Heavyweight Champion, James Stall.”

Mirth is nearly a memory now as Eric turns the television on the table to face the camera and turns it on. As he now faces the poster on the wall behind the table, the view locks in on the television screen. It zooms in until the view shifts to a full-screen shot of what’s playing: a six-person Hell in a Cell Match including the aforementioned Stall and Tombstone as well as Eric. The massive German takes a huge spill off the top of the cage after putting another man through the roof…which prompts Eric to execute a shooting star press through the roof of the cage and onto said hapless sack, earning an elimination.

Flash forward a bit and we see Eric nailing a Dragon Fang superkick that sends a barbed-wire sledgehammer into Stall’s face before taking a brutal Graveyard Shift double-underhook piledriver onto it head-first to end his chances of winning that match. Further altercations between the three men commence in post-match assaults, in-ring segments and matches including one where Eric earned his first win over the mighty Tombstone to put him where he is now: as number-one contender to the biggest title in New Era. Such is also the moment that the montage, set to “Too Close to Hate” by Sevendust, ends. When we see Eric again, his back is to the camera again and he’s shedding his suit jacket.

“That should say it all as far as I’m concerned. Tombstone is in prime position to win this match based on his talents and his entry number. Myself and James Stall? Not so much though there’s a fair chance that we’ll clash for a while before the night’s over.”

Eric takes a few steps to his right and drapes the jacket neatly over a coat hook that’s been somewhat-sloppily drilled into the bare concrete wall. Without warning while he walks back to the table, he hauls off and kicks the television to the floor. The table itself nearly topples over from the force of the shot and the device lands in a pile of broken glass, cracked plastic and sparks flying. The Irish Dragon stares at the damage dispassionately as he puts his right hand to his left sleeve, undoing the cuff links as his demeanor darkens.

“I’m in this match to make a statement and, arrogant or not, to advance my own agenda. Part of that is to strengthen the company that I currently call home. Another is to test the waters elsewhere and perhaps to set up a few…contingencies. Winning is a pleasant thought to entertain but reality is not so kind. I will enter that ring and I will accomplish my share of eliminations. I will deal damage to everyone in my path whether I know their name or not. Victory isn’t necessary to make a statement and when someone gets the better of me and sends me to the floor? They’ll know they earned something. As I’ve heard it said…I may go down, but I won’t go down raw.”

The charming smirk returns for a few moments as Eric pockets the cufflinks and starts rolling up the sleeves of the pure white silk shirt beneath the black vest and crimson tie of what remains of his suit. He draws from his pocket a roll of white athletic tape and with a method refined through constant repetition begins to tape his hands. He stares hard at his progress in this simple act while addressing those watching through it.

“By now some of you are wondering why in the Nine Hells (Dungeons & Dragons represent) that I’m even bothering to compete if, seemingly, my intention isn’t to win. It’s because I don’t need to. I don’t need the million dollars or the bragging rights. I sure as hell don’t need the ego boost. Let the rest of the expatriates and nameless who have gathered for this put all their chips on the line to win. I can get what I want by simply going out to the ring and doing what I do best: burn down pretenders.”

Turning to the poster on the wall, Eric takes it down and neatly rolls it up, setting it in the corner. Behind it are many web-like cracks in the wall created by constant impacts over the years. The kaleidoscope of red smears and splatters, some more faded by age than others, show how the indentations got there: by repeated strikes from powerful fists. Looking upon the collage of destruction makes Eric chuckle to himself and he runs his fingertips along the tattered wall. The merest touch causes old, broken-down chunks of concrete to fall to the floor in a trail of airborne dust.

Slowly, this room is becoming what it is meant to be. It’s a fair bet that only a few people in the match will understand what this room is, having only seen it sparingly and in an entirely different light, figuratively and literally, over the time that Eric’s been in the business. Turning and looking up and over his shoulder at the light fixture, his taped hands fall upon the metal folding chair. Picking it up and folding it, Eric grasps the legs and smashes the simple, overly-bright fixture, bulb and all, sending a smattering of broken glass and wiring to the floor. The room is pitch dark at this point until someone opens the door and steps in, giving us a glimpse of Eric once again facing the wall, the chair tossed aside. The sultry, female notes of the new entrant emit smoothly around gentle laughter with an undertone of malice.

“You’re planning on saving some energy for me later on tonight, aren’t you? I’d hate to see you waste it all here…”

The squeak and scrape of metal on metal sounds as the woman goes from tempting words to a soft, hissing intake of breath though we can’t see why yet. It’s only when the old light bulb is screwed in the wire-hanging fixture, offering a patently dim light to the room that we see her, a fire-haired woman with crystalline blue eyes and a short black dress that shows off a lithe, powerful body. The kind of woman that you admire from a distance because you know she’d eat you alive if you got too close. Eric has stepped up behind her, his hands upon her waist and his lips gracing the curve of her neck…the act which prompted the hissing sound. His tone drops to a whisper.

“There’s always time and energy saved up for you. Once business is settled here, of course.”

Aurelei Donavan leans her head back a bit and presses her glossed lips to Eric’s before drawing away from him and leaving the room with a few notes of low laughter. As the door closes, Eric turns his back to the camera again and moves toward the wall. He’s pretty much out of range of the light, which starts swinging on the end of its wire as he starts throwing fists at the tattered, blood-stained wall.

*WHACK!*

*WHAM!*

*THUMP!*

*CRUNCH!*

There’s enough power in the shots that they cause the light to sway considerably now, the shadows in the room dancing as Eric’s breathing becomes a little heavy. He drops into a focused and violent state that’s reflected in his words between blows.

“Those of you that mistake…my lackadaisical attitude…toward winning and think…that I won’t be a threat…as a result are…in for a rude…awakening.”

A series of rapid shots send dust and debris into the air and chunks of concrete to the floor. Eric pops his neck to one side, then the other, bringing up his taped hands and staring down at them idly as already a light smear of red is soaking into the tape. Something that makes him laugh.

“It’s the short-minded sorts to whom victory is everything that will be the easiest victims Sunday night. The ones who would sell their soul for a victory that may be remembered for a year, if that. Fans are far more likely to remember a spectacle, an act of unbridled violence and fury…or watching one man throw out ten, fifteen or perhaps twenty of his fellow competitors. A milestone that is far less easily reached than simple victory carries more weight. It turns hearts and minds toward the source of destruction and the company he calls home. It makes those who still have the fire in their gut to succeed wonder if they could reach such a level. And the rare few who take that plunge are rewarded for their gumption with an opportunity to be just as great.

That, ladies and gentlemen…”

*BOOM!*

*BAM!*

*WHAM!*

Eric slams his fists into the wall a few more times with the echoes of impact reverberating in the small room.

“…is how a statement is made. It’s within my power to win but I’d rather my violent exploits bring some fresh blood to New Era. I want to see this company grow, to gather more top talents for me to test myself against, to keep us strong. And I’ll do that by hurling anyone in my way over the top rope and beating the hell out of anyone who tries to stop me. Old friends and current enemies alike are going to be laid waste to just for breathing my air in this massive match. It’s nothing personal of course. It’s just something that…has to be done. The truly intelligent people will understand. People like the aforementioned Tombstone, Logan Alexander and AC Smith, for instance.

Most others won’t get it but that’s on them. They’re too blinded by what the business has become to remember what it once was. Not the kind of comment you’d expect from a man who hasn’t even invested five years into the business, but it is what it is. I thank my trainer for putting that kind of thinking into my head from early on. ‘Victory is all well and good,’ he would say, ‘but without perspective and a clear head, the true joy of it is lost.’”

Turning on his heel and walking to a point directly under the light, which he stills with a careful grasping of the hot bulb, Eric stares into the camera with his taped hands held up. The tape is worn down quite a bit, tinged with the gray of cracked mortar and the red of shed blood.

“Ask yourselves how far you would go to achieve victory. Ask yourselves if it is truly the only goal worth reaching for. Then consider what you’ll have to go through to reach that goal: the pain, the suffering and the loss of years off your career earned by going through someone like me. All for some footnote that will fall by the wayside before your own memory of it turns cold. Then consider what I’ve said here and compare…and ask yourselves one final question:”

The camera zooms in a little, focusing on the stoic expression and the near-black eyes of the Irish Dragon as he glares into the camera, still hyped up on adrenaline, pain and fury.

“Are you willing to burn for your convictions?”

His lips peel back into a grin as he turns his back to the camera and moves back to the wall.


“You’d better be. Because Sunday night, everything burns…courtesy of the Irish Dragon.”

The impacts start again as the scene fades to a full black.

[Legion]

The scene opens inside a dimly lit room, the likes of which are unfamiliar to the APW crowd. The little bit of light in the room reveals glimpses of various forms of wrestling torture, from barbed wire baseball bats to tall ladders. In the midst of the insanity, we find the source of the light: a table lit aflame, as a figure steps out from the shadows. The figure approaches the table, allowing the light to reveal its true identity: the Experts veteran, Legion.

“What an interesting predicament we find ourselves in. We’re just a few days away from APW’s Survive and Conquer, and people have already begun casting doubts on a number of the participants…myself included. Since everyone is so worried about what my intentions are in this insane match, allow me to elaborate on what I’ve already promised before.

For the past several months, I’ve watched as many of these so-called wrestlers have taken their respective spots in title matches and big-time celebrations that are better reserved for better people…people like me. I’ve watched as the likes of One Ring Circus have fallen to the wayside, as men like Domingo Cruz who don’t deserve a second chance at LIFE are suddenly thrust into the spotlight in the TFWF. Congrats on your new success, buddy. Enjoy it while it lasts, because once the spotlight gets shut off everyone’s going to forget you again.

But the worst offender of all is James Wallace, the man MOST of you know as Black Death. Former three time True Expert, World Champion in many a promotion, and what does he have to show for it? A violation of the TFWF Wellness Policy that led him to run out on me with his tail tucked beneath his legs. And now HE’S given a second chance, while I’M stuck out in the cold? I did everything I could for that company, and I was run out by the Circus. Thanks for nothing, TFWF.

Pardon me if I’m ranting and rambling a bit, but the fact is I’m more than a little pissed off. For over five years I’ve shed blood, sweat, and tears for this business, and all I’ve ever been shown for it is stupidity from promoters, other wrestlers, and the so-called fans that turn their back on you the moment you start to enjoy your success. So when the opportunity arose to be a part of quite possibly THE biggest match in professional wrestling, I jumped at the chance. After all, with a pretty sweet million-dollar prize, a fancy little trophy, and bragging rights as big as my…ego, why not reach out for the brass ring?

It’s time for Legion to make his name known again in professional wrestling. Expect me.”

With this, Legion simply grins walking away. The flames on the table slowly die out as the scene fades to black.

[Chris Shields]

***OOC: Sorry about the lack of anything more than trash talk. Thought I wasn't working tonight, but I got a call that they're still having a show, it's just gonna be a smaller one. Wouldn't make it back before deadline.

He sat there, crimson USC Football shirt covered in sweat, a simple white towel over his down hung head, water bottle dangling between thumb and forefinger. He knew that the camera was on him, but he really didn't care. At least not until it came around to get a shot if his face.He raised his hands and brought them to the towel, pushing it off his head as he raised up and just sighed.

"Yea yea yea, I know what you're thinking to yourself. Oh God, another promo from a gym. I bet you're wondering if you're gonna get some training montage set to Survivor's Eye Of The Tiger or Whitesnak's Here I Go Again, or maybe even Tom Petty's I Won't Back Down. Let me answer you in my own special way. Fuck no you buttchugging assholes. Look, you can call the fact that I'm doing this promo from a gym cliche, played out, unoriginal, whatever. I really don't give two monkey farts what you people think. I'm Chris fucking Shields. The face of professional wrestling, the best wrestler on this planet or any other. I'm a damned national treasure. You want to know why the gym promo is so unoriginal? It's because these asshole companies are telling professional wrestlers that they have to do at least one video where they address their match, opponents, and whatever the hell else. As if we're not focused on the match unless we talk trash."

Shields pulls his water bottle up and starts to chug, drinking nearly half of it in about ten seconds.

"People see me on TMZ leaving some club with a porn star, or in, insert trashy gossip magazine here, having lunch with a supermodel, and they think that's all I do. Fact is, the majority of my free time is spent training. I'm either on a treadmill or a bike or lifting weights or in the ring doing drills. I'm sure you're thinking that sounds kind of boring and well, you're right. Congratulations American public, it was bound to happen at least once. The life of a professional wrestler, it is often very very boring. Now I go out and have fun, I hook up with incredibly hot women, occasionally I get in to fights with mall Santa's because I had a few too many drinks. More often than not though, I'm training and traveling so I can step inside the ring and prove that I am the best wrestler on this planet or any other. That is what has brought me to APW for Survive and Conquer. Some are here to win the money, some are here to represent their federation, some are here because a rival signed up."

Shields pauses and takes another swig of his water before standing up and throwing the towel over his shoulder.

"Me though, none of that matters to me. I'm a billionaire, so I damned sure don't need the money. As far as representing my fed goes, well I told them to kiss my ass. Rivals, I have no equal in this business so how could I see anyone as a rival. I decided to do this battle royal for one reason and one reason only. I know that I can win. I know that I am the best wrestler that has ever lived. I know that I am better than all ninety nine of the other people in this match combined. However, I don't have to worry about the other ninety nine people in this match. As a matter of fact, there are only six people that I need truly concern myself with. Ruby Winters, JT Cash, Adrien Specter, Logan Alexander, The Guv'nor, and Leon Stone. The people who drew numbers ninety five through one hundred. The only people that I am absolutely guaranteed to face in the match. When I come in to the battle royal, there could be twenty people in the ring, there could be ninety three people in the ring, or there could only be one person in the ring. Make no mistake, I will do my research on each and every person in this match. Hell I've already watched at least one hundred hours of footage since I signed up for this match.

The people I will watch the most from though, Winters, Cash, Specter, Alexander, Guv'nor, and Stone. The only person I have any real knowledge of except for what I've learned from footage, Adrien Specter. He is an absolutely insane bastard, and a tough son of a bitch. I'm still a far superior wrestler and vastly more intelligent. I mean, I'd never cut out my own tongue for one thing. Still, there's no secret that he's dangerous and coming in at number ninety seven certainly makes him a possible favorite for this match. Still, I'm not worried. I've been in too many battle royals to count during my career. Ten man, twenty man, even a forty man battle royal once, and while I didn't always come out on top, I won far more than I lost. I won because of skill and intelligence. See, a lot of wrestlers are going to focus on a few big names or their rivals, not me. I am focused on the six people that I know without a shadow of a doubt, will be in the ring at the same time as I am. I am focused on the six people that I know I have to beat to win. I am focused on the six people who think they are better than me. I am focused on the six people I must eliminate in order to show each and every one of you that I am exactly what I say I am. The best wrestler on this planet or any other."

Shields drops his water bottle by a leg press and then sits down as he continues to train.

"I already said there wasn't going to be a training montage. Now get the fuck out of her, get the tape set up, and send it to whoever you have to. Nothing interesting or crazy is going to happen. It's just gonna be more and more training."

Shields flips off the camera as he does a few more leg presses and then it finally cuts off.

[Anthony Bailey]

"Expect trouble as a part of life and when it comes, hold your head high, look it squarely in the eye, and say, 'I will be bigger than you. You cannot defeat me.'" – Ann Landers

Anthony Bailey was at a peculiar place in his life. Coming off two losses in a row, the hunger to prevail was beginning to stir inside of him more than ever. He didn’t feel as if he needed to prove himself to anyone, he was operating for an audience of one…himself. Bailey had confronted a rut in his momentary career, but he vowed to himself and to the rest of The Dying Breed members that things would not remain this way. He would conquer this obstruction no matter what…even if it meant the ultimate sacrifice of costing him his life.[/color]

{{The scene opens to the front yard of Anthony Bailey’s luxurious townhouse located in St. Augustine, FL. The sun is beginning to set on this chilly January evening as former Tag Champion Anthony Bailey is spotted sitting on a chair in his driveway enjoying the cool breeze. Bailey is wearing a black and gray hoodie that says The Dying Breed across the chest, blue jeans, and a pair of black, white, and gray Jordan sneakers. As the camera zooms in closer on Bailey, Bailey slightly leans forward in his chair. Not flashing his usual smile, The Promise slowly begins to speak.}}[/color]

Anthony Bailey: Good evening everybody. As everyone is already aware, we are only a few short days away from the soon to be memorable and highly anticipated fifth annual Survive & Conquer pay per view event being held at Wembley Stadium in London. By God’s grace, I refuse to let Survive & Conquer be another missed opportunity. My life has never been an illustration of should’ve, would’ve, could’ves and in no way do I plan on beginning that condition during this moment of my essence. A moment so pivotal that I am unable and unwilling to do the minimum just to simply get by. A moment when dropping the ball must not even be perceived. This past week's editions of both Sunday Night Asylum and Monday Night Meltdown were sufficient provisions of corroboration that proved to me and to the fans that I have not been in my zone lately, so to speak, and it is evident.

With great eagerness to find myself, to analyze the reasons behind my lackluster in-ring performances as of late, and to top it off, losing to Aubrey J. Parker on two separate occasions. Once in the battle royale and once in the Tag Team Title main event match, the past week for me has been a bizarre chain of experiences with me going through a tough time emotionally but I felt that now was the proper time to address it. There’s perfect justification as to why I haven’t been feeling like myself lately. Though I am one who likes to be transparent with others to a certain extent, you want to be careful with what articles of "clothing" you choose to air as your dirty laundry. Especially when it comes down to my private life behind closed doors, that's sacred and how I maintain my sanity. But also because I am who I am, I feel that as a public figure whose prominence continues to grow along with his allies J-Hop and William D. Williams, I believe that you all have the right to know what has been going on with The Promise. Why have I seemed so out of it and so dissuaded? Please take a moment to see for yourself…

{{The scene shifts to a recent but never before aired clip of Bailey and his girlfriend Tasha, who surfaces a few short minutes later. The footage was intended to be used for one of Bailey’s latest shoot styled promos but, with the sudden turn of events that you are about to witness, never made it to APW Television until now.}}[/color]

Anthony Bailey: What’s my opinion on Aubrey J. Parker? She’s a sweet girl and an excellent wrestler from what I have gathered so far. The way she worked herself up the ranks over on Meltdown and the performances she has been giving on Asylum have been unparalleled so I respect that. But to be honest, the poor girl needs to stop leading Talon Wilkinson on. I see it all over Twitter and I just can’t help but to laugh at myself every single time. She’s just using him to get into the mind of The Smooth One; the one she truly wants a deeper relationship with but because of who he is aligned with, it’s a minor conflict of interest. They have history with one another and Aubrey desperately wants the past to become the present. Do your thing though Aubrey, I’m not mad at you.

Off Camera Voice: Interesting take on the whole Aubrey and William thing. I hope that things work out the way that she wants them to.

Anthony Bailey: It will work out the way that she wants them to. People underestimate Aubrey but she’s a smart girl who knows exactly what she is doing.

Off Camera Voice: Please fill me in on this whole Jason Kash ordeal. You two constantly have some strong words for one another via social media. Could a third bout between you two be in the works for the near future?

{{Bailey smiles as he begins to shake his head.}}[/color]

Anthony Bailey: I honestly don’t know what Kash wants from me. I don’t owe him anything but he talks to me as if I do. I addressed him an ample amount of times in my autobiography and our two matches last year did the job in my opinion. If he or Schmidt or The Food Network wanted us to go at it once more, the situation would have to be right. The first two times around, I was the one aspiring to bring commendation to myself. But now, I have taken the time and labored to make a name for myself. No longer do I need a Jason Kash to help me ascend to the next level of Asylum because I did that and it was at his expense. I can’t stress enough the fact that I think Kash is one of the greatest to ever step foot in a ring but the Twitter rants directed towards me make Raab’s resentful tweets look like something the Dali Lama would recite.

{{Bailey and the interviewer both laugh synchronously.}}[/color]

Off Camera Voice: A bit of a stretch there, don’t you think?

Anthony Bailey: Yeah maybe just a little...

{{Tasha suddenly emerges from behind Bailey and appears as if she has a question.}}[/color]

Tasha: Babe? Do you have a quick minute?

{{Bailey turns around in his chair to meet eyes with her.}}[/color]

Anthony Bailey: Hello love. Give me one second though; we’ll be wrapping this up in a few minutes.

{{Tasha looks disgusted at Bailey’s nonchalant acknowledgement of her.}}[/color]

Tasha: You see??!! This is the kind of stuff that I’m talking about!

{{Bailey’s eyes widen in astonishment.}}[/color]

Anthony Bailey: Whoa whoa whoa. We’re going to do this right now? I promise once we’re done I will be all ears. I’ll rub your back, cook for you, anything you want me to do.

Tasha: That’s it!!! I have had it! I’m done Anthony, I’m done…

{{In tears, Tasha storms off in the opposite direction as Bailey goes after her. The camera then decides to follow both of them. Passing up the opportunity for juicy footage was nullifying in this business.}}[/color]

Anthony Bailey: Tasha, where are you going? Come here.

Tasha, Anthony’s girlfriend ever since his senior year of high school (Bailey graduated from Calvary Christian High School in Clearwater, Florida in May of 2008), had vocalized how she always felt inferior to Bailey’s true love of wrestling from time to time. But it seems as if she has finally had enough.[/color]

Tasha: Oh so now you want to talk? Just like you weren’t able to talk all those other times, neither am I. I’m going to pack my things. I’ll be staying with Bianca for a few nights.

Bianca was Tasha’s closest friend in St. Augustine and the one she spent the majority of her time with whenever Anthony was on the road traveling and she was unable to accompany him due to school or work obligations.[/color]

Anthony Bailey: Wait a minute, where is all of this coming from?! You know how it is when I’m doing my promo work babe. The smoother each take goes, the faster I can get done. Any interruption, regardless if it’s you, Frank, J-Hop, or WDW, puts me behind schedule.

Bailey would have been better off leaving her out of his potential interruption list, but he was trying to make a point. The more he attempted to reason with her, the less she wanted to hear him out.[/color]

Tasha: You just don’t get it do you Anthony? Five years and you still don’t get it?

{{She wipes the tears flowing from her eyes.}}[/color]

All I ever wanted was to be number one in your life. I know this sport is your calling and that you are having the chance of a lifetime to live your dream and travel the world, but what about me? What about my needs?

Anthony Bailey: Haven’t I been meeting your needs? I can’t when I’m on the road obviously, but when I’m here? I’m here to serve you and you know that. If you’re asking me to choose between you and wrestling, then I can’t. Wrestling is what I do and it’s who I am and you…you’re my future wife and the future mother of my children. I have invested five years of my life with you and to think that I do not care is unreasonable.

Tasha: I’m not saying your investment with me is invalid, I’m just saying maybe I’m not cut out for this lifestyle like you are. The constant attention, the cameras following my every move...

{{She points at the nearby camera since the guy manning it is not being covert or mindful about invading their privacy.}}[/color]

Anthony Bailey: What are you trying to say?

{{Silence fills the room as Tasha inhales and exhales deeply.}}[/color]

Tasha: I’m saying….that….I think we both need to reconsider our relationship and if we’re truly meant to be together.

{{Bailey looks stunned as if he has just detected a ghost.}}[/color]

Anthony Bailey: You’re not serious are you??

{{Tasha remains silent as she slowly makes her way upstairs. Bailey is left speechless.}}[/color]

Off Camera Voice: Though this probably isn’t the best time to mention this, don’t worry about what just happened getting out to the public. I can edit every single bit of this out.

{{Bailey, still dismayed over what just happened, responds.}}[/color]

Anthony Bailey: That won’t be necessary…..

{{The scene fades to black and changes back to Bailey still sitting in his driveway. With his hands now inside the pockets of his hoodie due to the weather being cooler than before, Bailey continues his monologue.}}[/color]

I mean, how could a person possibly remain the same after something so tragic like that happens? Now I know some fans might not desire to see the soap opera that has become of my life or they might not even care to begin with, but your sake, I’m trying to make sense of me being eliminated in the battle royale at the hands of Slade Craven and not lasting longer. I’m trying to make sense of why J-Hop and I seemed to virtually hand over the Tag Titles to M&M. Nothing against Slade, Aubrey, or Logan, but I’m known to put up more of a fight than I did. Slade might not know firsthand since that was our first encounter but M&M knows good and well what The Promise is capable of. They caught The Dying Breed on an off day and that’s not making excuses for our loss, it’s the truth.

Contrary to popular belief, I have had to deal with my fair share of trials. Especially since arriving here in APW. Rich kids that grew up in the suburbs have the same problems just like everyone else from various walks of life. Growing up, my biggest issue was making friends since a lot of the kids at school refused to hang around me because they thought that I was stuck up or that I was better than everyone else. But once they got to know me and saw that I was a normal child who played with the same toys and watched the same cartoons that they did, everything naturally unraveled. Once I decided to pursue my dream of becoming a pro wrestler, those trials as a kid seemed so petty. And it seemed that way because in reality, they were.

Who would ever think that I would get to witness the day of people breaking into my home and trying to send me a message?

Grand Slam Champion Jason Kash broke into Bailey’s townhouse this past summer prior to their World Title Lumberjack match at the Test For The Best pay per view event. Bailey didn’t want to press charges but Tasha insisted that they did. Tasha later pressed charges against Kash without Bailey’s consent.[/color]

Who knew that my relationships and friendships would become so estranged? Who knew that living your dream was actually a more glamourized way of saying that you would be living out of your suitcase and be in airports all of the time? Now I for one do not regret my decision of volunteering whatever free time I had during college with Frank Cavalli and the FAWA to learn the ropes of the business. I do not regret signing the dotted line on my APW contract. The Promise does not live with regrets and the person who does is not truly free.

That’s my lifelong motto and that’s also what I try to instill in J-Hop and William D. Williams as well. This isn’t a cop out or a way to rile myself up to get motivated for Survive & Conquer. Motivation is apart of who I am. I don’t have to conjure it up like some kind of magic spell. Mark Mania identifies this as my “fall” from grace. Oh Marky Mark, the day that I fall from grace is the day that Hell freezes over. Not saying that it’s impossible because I’m only human, I’m just saying the probability of me doing so is unlikely. If Mark really knew me like he pretended to during his little promo, he would know of the tune that I have been singing since the beginning. A piece of leather and gold with the APW emblem etched into it doesn’t define who I am. It never has and it never will.

Do I want Jair and I to get a rematch and defeat M&M for the Tag Titles? Yes. But Jair isn’t lesser of a man or subordinate to Logan or Aubrey if he fails to do so. Do I want William to defeat TJ this Sunday night and get his first taste of gold? Of course I do. But if he doesn’t? So be it. He is still one of the best megastars on the entire roster and I get the favorable opportunity of calling him my brother and aligning myself with him in The Dying Breed. And Mark, arrogance isn’t what drives me. Confidence does. Who wouldn’t be confident with essentially coming out of nowhere, quickly rising up the ranks, and capturing three titles in his rookie year? I didn’t have a history to point to Mark. You had the UWWF to point to, and Evan Envi had another company to point to, and Terry Marvin had a previous company to point to also.

Me? All I had going for me was the old moldy building in Jacksonville, Florida where FAWA held frequent events. Amateur wrestling was my antiquity Mark and I didn’t even do it for that long. So you see, when you come from that to where I am now, you’re humbled over the fact of God even allowing you to experience this in the first place. But you’re also confident in your skills. No big time connection or rich relative was my meal ticket; it was just hard work assimilated with some blood, sweat, and tears. Be educated on the entire situation before you decide to prematurely speak the next time Mark, it’ll spare you the embarrassment…

And the same thing goes for Keaton Saint as well. Assuming that my entire determination is to hold out in the Rumble until J-Hop, who is entrant number forty-four while I am entrant number eleven, comes to the ring is amusing. Though the idea is wise and will even be entertained upon completion of this promo, what gives you right to even comment on the intent of my motives? I have no beef with you Keaton but apparently it seems as if you might be recalling One Night In Hell when I was the one who crushed your chances at becoming the World Champion that night by eliminating you from the Chamber. If that’s what this is about, then I’m sorry but not authentically apologetic at the same time. You were my opponent and it was what I had to do. Sunday night you will be my opponent once again, except there will be ninety-eight others this time as opposed to four, and I don’t expect the outcome to be any different between you and I than before.

{{Suddenly a Toyota Camry unhurriedly pulls into Bailey’s driveway as Bailey squints his eyes at the brightness of the headlights. When the headlights and the ignition are turned off, Bailey notices whom the car belongs to as he stands to his feet cracking a smile. The mystery driver proceeds from the car with something clutched in his left hand and it is revealed to be none other than Frank “The Tank” Cavalli, Bailey’s mentor and good friend.}}[/color]

Frank Cavalli: Hey kid, what the heck are you doing out here? It’s freezing!

{{Frank’s strong Italian accent made Bailey snicker as Frank set his car alarm.}}[/color]

Anthony Bailey: I was waiting on you man. Why else would I be out here freezing my butt off? I wanted to see you before I flew out to London.

Frank Cavalli: Aww, that’s so kind of you.

Bailey was used to Frank’s keen sarcasm after the few years that they’ve known each other.[/color]

Anthony Bailey: Whatever. Let’s go inside though…since you’re forgetting that we live in Florida and thinking that we’re somewhere stranded in the Arctic.

Frank Cavalli: Florida or not, cold is cold where I’m from.

Anthony Bailey: I didn’t know that it got chilly under rocks.

{{Frank jokingly hits Bailey in the arm as they approach the front door and walk inside.}}[/color]

Frank Cavalli: You’re even lamer than what I can remember from last time. I’m glad to see you’re doing better though. I was worried at first.

Frank was aware of Bailey and Tasha’s recent breakup.[/color]

Anthony Bailey: I mean it still hurts every time I think about her…but life must go on.

Frank Cavalli: Life does go on my friend but just be sure to take it one day at a time. These things take time to heal. But being the stand up kind of guy that I am, I brought something that might take your mind off of everything for a little while.

{{Frank reveals to Anthony what he has been holding the entire time since he got out of his car. It’s a DVD inside of a clear case.}}[/color]

Anthony Bailey: Please don’t tell me you came over here just so we can watch a bootlegged copy of Jack Reacher?

{{Frank laughs.}}[/color]

Frank Cavalli: Not at all. This is much better than that.

Anthony Bailey: I guess we shall see…

{{Bailey has a seat on his black leather couch as Frank pops the DVD inside of the DVD player and turns the TV on. As the video begins to play, Frank has a seat on the couch beside Bailey. The video is a taping of one of Bailey’s first matches for Frank’s company, the Florida Amateur Wrestling Association. Bailey, in the video, is much skinnier than he is now. The match had to have taken place in either 2009 or 2010. His opponent’s identity is obscure.}}[/color]

Oh wow!! I remember that night as if it were yesterday. I was so nervous!

Frank Cavalli: I remember this match too. There were only about fifty people in attendance for the event that night and you were trembling like a cold little puppy. But timid or not, you did a remarkable job. From performing in front of a crowd of fifty to where you are now is amazing. Don’t let this whole breakup ruin you Anthony. You are not your failures. You have what it takes to win this match at Survive & Conquer. Some people don’t think you do and even you probably don’t think you can but I believe that you can. I believe in you kid.

{{The scene fades to black as Bailey entertains nostalgia while viewing his old match and sitting in silence for a moment to soak in Frank’s impromptu pep talk. The next scene opens up to the present time, which is a few hours after Bailey and Cavalli’s hang out session. It is pitch black outside as Bailey, standing on his back patio in a plain white T-shirt and the same blue jeans as before, faces the camera and begins to address his opponents for the pay per view one final time.}}[/color]

Anthony Bailey: Though I have been tussling with heartbreak and I have been dying to fight for genuine joy lately, I am dying to conquer and overcome ninety-nine other talented men and women this weekend at Survive & Conquer. Anyone in their right mind would acknowledge that a serious relationship with someone you care intensely about is a valid impediment and that it shouldn’t be glazed over or undermined. But The Promise not being broken is more than just some cliché slogan that I coined. It is something that I abide by. If I have survived this past week’s occurrences, the only thing left to do from here is for me to conquer…to conquer the resistance…to silence the pessimists.

And that is going to be the only thing on my mind as I stand eye to eye with present and future hall of famers inside of that ring at Wembley Stadium on Sunday. Tasha’s beautiful face plagued my mentality on Asylum and on Meltdown and all of the countless memories that we shared together seemed to be on repeat. But at Survive & Conquer, don’t look for that to be a hindrance on me or my performance any longer. Emotions will be suppressed, dreams will be demolished, and reality checks will be distributed. Sally Talfourd, Kid Dynamo, Donald Deruty, Omen, friend, foe, whomever…please realize that Anthony Bailey is a man of a mission.

It has always been that way but now, the mission is narrower. Making a name for myself on Asylum was good, spearheading the movement of The Dying Breed was excellent, but winning Survive & Conquer? That will do wonders beyond my imagination. It will solidify who I am and the truth and virtue that I have sought to embody. Sustaining through ninety-nine opponents will not be an easy task and that’s the purpose because it was never meant to be. This operation is not compulsory for the delicate. Because when it comes to one’s true purpose, whatever that may be, the road to acquire it won’t be effortless. It will require your all.

I have given my all to many things in life. To my ex girlfriend, to my family, my friends, this business…but on Sunday, I’m looking to exceed that. I do not want to step foot back on American soil knowing that I didn’t pour my heart out in that squared circle in London. I might return to the United States exhausted and battered but I want to return successful. That is my ultimate goal and objective. If you have been unfamiliar with me up until this point, after Sunday night you will be quite knowledgeable of who I am. And to give you a little head start, I am Anthony Bailey…APW’s only Promise…the only Promise that can't be broken. Until we meet at Wembley Stadium…

{{The scene slowly fades to black as Bailey continues to glare into the camera.}}[/color]

[chaos lite]

THE GOOD

”So... like, have you ever really sat down and thought about what you would do if you won?”

”I mean, I’ve had some thoughts. An idea, here and there... the occasional burst of inspiration to work toward something better.”

”Ha. Yeah... tell me what’s better. Better than a million dollars.”

”I mean, like, I wanna help people with it. Or s-”

”HAHAHAHAHAHA, AUBS, COME ON!”

”Erm... I’m serious, Cass.”

What was audio at first eventually gave way to a black-and-white themed scene. The APW Suicidal and Tag Team Champion, Aubrey J. Parker sat with her legs crossed on the amusingly-long wooden bench that sits outside of an unnamed shack, which looks like an old-fashioned tavern. We can judge that it was late morning or early afternoon time.

Adjacent to her sat Cassandra McPherson. For two decades, the girls had been best friends. For nearly two decades, they had been coming to this “shack”, which was aptly named the “Soda Shak” as long as Aubrey could remember. The words etched into the wooden frame above the door had long since faded, and local kids made a game out of stealing the sign that sat near the road. Aubrey knew... because she had done the same thing as a kid.

”Okay...”

Cass flicked her hair behind her shoulder and raised the previously unacknowledged glass bottle of soda up to her lips, tapping it against her chin as she studied her friend, exploring her eyes for signs of illegitimacy.

”Well, who would you help?”

”I dunno. People I grew up with. The small businesses that helped me when I was starting out. First with the fashion thing, and then with... all this.”

”Mhm.”

Cassandra couldn’t suppress a grin, thinking about whatever it was she was about to say, as she took a swig of her cola.

”Yeah... give back to the multi-million dollar community you came from. Makes a lot of sense to me.”

Aubrey sighed.

”If they’re doing so well, why’s Gordon going out of business?”

”It’s Old Man Gordon. He’s been going out of business since OUR parents were kids. It’s a goddamn Soda Sh...”

Cassandra lowered her voice to just above a whisper as she leaned forward to address Aubrey, realizing that “Old Man Gordon” could easily overhear.

”...It’s a ‘Soda Shak.’ Are you expecting the business to be thriving? Pepsi. Coke. They killed him, and that was happening before we were even thought of. It doesn’t matter how much money you throw at him... no one wants to drive ten miles to the middle of Bum-Fuck, Nowhere, just so they can buy a few bottles of homemade soda.”

As if on cue, the girls were interrupted by the sound of crunching gravel. They turned as a black Ford Expedition pulled off of the road (which was in desperate need of re-paving) and took place in the small, makeshift parking lot, next to Cassandra’s car.

”Well, I guess some people do.”

”Cute. Well, when they come up here, why don’t you ask them for their opinion about your frivolous spending?”

”It’s not frivolous spending!”

”Bitch, you have to beat NINETY-NINE PEOPLE to win that money. Anything that you spend it on could be considered frivolous spending. You know what I would do if I won a million dollars after going through some gladiator shit like that?”

”What would y-”

”Nothing. I would do nothing with it. What the hell is wrong with you?”

Aubrey raised an eyebrow and shook her head in disappointment, but quickly turned her attention back toward the parking lot as a pair of doors slammed, revealing an older man perhaps in his mid-fifties, and a younger man around Aubrey and Cassandra’s age, who Aubrey immediately tagged as his son. Both of them were dressed fairly casually, in white t-shirts, flannel jackets, and blue jeans. The old man proudly wore his military-style buzzed haircut, in all of its gray glory, but the younger one covered his ruffled red hair beneath a New York Yankees baseball cap.

Upon seeing the girls, the younger man stopped with wide eyes. It was as if he had seen a ghost-- or a celebrity. Aubrey found herself more satisfied by assuming the latter. She turned to Cassandra and shrugged.

”Fine. I’ll ask them.”

She turned and waved to the pair of men, who’d seemed to have just stopped in the middle of the parking lot.

”Hey! Could I ask you guys a question?”

The younger man turned and said something to the older one that might as well have been inaudible to the two girls. The older man didn’t wear the same excitement that the young man did on his face, but the younger one took a few more steps forward, removing the hat. Behind Aubrey, Cassandra gasped.

”Erik!”

Aubrey turned to her with another arched brow.

”Erik? The Erik?”

”Cassie! Oh my God... You look just as beautiful as you do on TV... and as you did back wh-”

”Is this the asshole that left-”

”Holy shit! I thought you were like... dead.”

Aubrey turned back to him, looking unimpressed. She was mildly unsettled to see that he was already looking at her, sporting a wide grin.

”And Ms. Suicidal herself... Aubrey J. Parker.”

Aubrey crossed her arms uncomfortably and looked around, first toward Cassandra (who was making the goo-goo eyes toward this guy) and then Erik’s father, who seemed nearly as perturbed as Parker.

”Sorry... I don’t think I know you. Not technically anyway.”

”But I know you. Survive and Conquer. One hundred people. You’re going in there as a double champ. I’ve- I’ve always heard a lot about you through Cassie and I followed you since day one. And now I see you here, in person, and I’m... in awe. Haha, girls, please- I am not worthy.”

Erik takes a step back and bows before the girls before giving them both a wink, which makes Cassandra absolutely melt if you question AJP about it. Aubrey continued to stand there with her arms folded.

”So what did you want to ask? Was it about Survive and Conquer? Are we on camera?”

”I have a feeling you’d love that.”

Erik’s smile never faded. There was never a moment that it even threatened to leave his face, but he chuckled and raised a hand to the back of his neck.

”You caught me. I’m a bit of a camera whore.”

”Camera whore? From what Cass said, you-”

”AUBS, Jesus Christ, where are your manners? Introduce yourself!”

”Mmm. Hi. I’m Aubrey J. Parker.”

”Erik Pocaczek.”

”...Hell of a name.”

”Yay, yay, we’re acquainted! Can we go inside now?”

”Depends. Are there cameras inside?”

Erik winked at Aubrey, albeit playfully. She rolled her eyes and nudged Cassandra toward the entrance of the Soda Shak.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

THE BAD

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Aubrey and Cassandra sat across from Erik and Mr. Pocaczek, who Erik had introduced as “Bob.” The kid was just so charismatic. It was almost painful. He had this humorous air about him and spoke with this laugh resting on the back of his throat all the time, so it was kind of difficult to tell if he was telling the truth or not. He could be a Grade-A bullshitter. Or he could just be the most confident man in the world.

”I’d bet cold hard cash that you’re gonna win Survive and Conquer.”

Bob Pocaczek snorted, or possibly just coughed. Aubrey didn’t know, and didn’t want to start trouble, so she didn’t even glance at him. She tried to suppress a smile as she responded to Erik, moving her fork through her salad.

”Oh? Well... what makes you say that?”

”You’re the most rapidly improving Megastar in the business. Today... maybe ever. It’d be stupid to bet against you, I think.”

”And now you’re just hamming it up for the cameras.”

”Haha, no way. And I know that you’ve got a bit of a wager going with Aurora Jansen from Phoenix Wrestling. I know that she’s going to be on your mind throughout this entire match, and you’re always going to have to watch your back.”

”Aurora’s a great friend of mine. I’m sure I-”

”Sure you’re what? Sure you’re not going to have to watch your back? Who else is going to... Aurora? That’s only going to last for so long.

Bailey? Hopkins? No. You probably burned your bridges with them a long time ago.

And if you even want to see Logan in this match, you would ideally have to make it to the end.

The very end.

All the way, I mean. Do you get that?”

”...Excuse me. Who are you again?”

”Eric Pocaczek.”

Aubrey laughed a little at that.

We had a smartass.

”And what makes you so confident about all this?”

”Erik’s going to be a wrestler someday.”

Cassandra blurted it out and Aubrey turned, giving her a mildly confused look. Cassandra said it in the same tone and with the same swagger that a fourteen year old girl would say when bragging about her boyfriend in front of all her other friends.

”That’s right.”

Aubrey rolled her eyes back toward Erik, who took a bite of the hamburger that he’d been babysitting in front of him for the better part of the past five minutes.

”Really. And where are you gonna wrestle?”

”Well, APW of course!”

”Right. Not just anyone can make it in APW, you-”

”You did.”

”Pardon?”

”YOU... DID.”

Aubrey slammed her fork into the salad and glared at him. His wit had stopped being funny a few minutes ago.

”And what’s that supposed to mean?”

”Goes back to what I said earlier, Ms. Parker. You’re probably the most rapidly improving Megastar in the business. You didn’t even start training for wrestling until 2010, when you were forced into a match. And then you got addicted. You felt good, knowing that you were able to hurt other people and you wreaked havoc in American Championship Wrestling.

Pa and I loved every second of it.

You were... evil. Personified. You cut bitches. You put people through tables. And you didn’t do it because you had to do it to win. You did it because you liked the feeling you got by hurting. And somewhere between the end of 2011 and August in 2012, you lost some of that.

Pa and I noticed.”

Aubrey turned and looked at Mr. Pocaczek, but he turned away, looking out the window, sipping a birch beer. He was modestly eating from the basket of french fries in front of him, but seemed completely removed from the conversation.

”Okay? So I don’t enjoy playing the role of a raging bitch anymore. Obviously that’s done nothing but help.”

Erik looked at her as if studying her for a few moments and then smiled.

”We noticed that too. Kind of disappointing though, all the same.”

”What exactly-”

”What was that question you wanted to ask us?”

Aubrey looked over at Cassandra, who literally had her chin propped up in her palms, elbows resting on the table, looking dreamily across at Erik. Aubrey audibly groaned and turned to the smooth talker, speaking matter-of-factly.

”I was going to ask if you guys thought that helping small, local businesses like this one would be a good choice... when it came to figuring out what to do with the million-dollar earnings from Survive and Conquer.”

Gordon looked up from his post behind the counter. He didn’t contribute to the conversation... he rarely did. Like Erik’s grandfather, Gordon had been nearly stoic and silent the entire twenty-plus years Aubrey knew him. He was a friendly man nonetheless... something that Aubrey didn’t detect from Mr. Pocaczek, who looked at her eyes for the first time since his arrival.

He and Erik turned to each other and Erik laughed a little, turning back to Aubrey. He leaned over the table and shook his head.

”That’s not what you wanna do with this money, is it?”

”Well, obviously I considered it or I wouldn’t have asked you. Talking to you hasn’t exactly shaped up to be my favorite hobby.”

”Ha! The answer is no, Aubrey. It’s not a good choice. You could throw money at a little place like this and yeah... it’s a nice thought at first, but think about what you’re doing. You’re pumping money into the system to keep this little business afloat, while all the while, other restaurants are popping up all over the area. McDonald’s. Burger King. Wendy’s. And not to mention the Cokes, the Pepsis, everything. You would just be prolonging the inevitable.

Or you could pump money into the machine expecting something back. You could elevate this place. You could expand. You could win the hearts of people across the city, then the state, and then the nation. HELL, if you got big enough, you could take over the world, Aubrey... with the right followers.

Talking about business. Of course...

...but then think about the odds of that happening. This isn’t you we’re talking about. This isn’t an attractive female wrestling for a multi-million dollar wrestling company trying to gain some fans on Twitter. This is a small, tired, relatively unknown business. NO OFFENSE, MR. GORDON!”

Gordon doesn’t respond, but nods slowly, turning his attention back toward the register. He was counting the money again, and again. A nervous tick. After twenty years, you pick up on these things.

Aubrey turned her eyes back down toward her salad and began to fork through it, sighing.

”You’re kind of a prick.”

”Aubrey!”

”HA! I’m a ‘prick’ because I speak the truth. I’ve come to terms with that. And that’s fine... I apologize, Aubrey. I apologize if I approached you or reacted to you in the wrong way.

But do you wanna know what you should really do with that million dollars?”

She doesn’t answer. It’s unnecessary, because she knows that his continuation is coming. The guy always stopped a few words short of a goddamn tirade.

”I think you should do what you really want to do and spend all of it on yourself. Get yourself a new manicure. A bunch of new clothes. A second house... maybe another car or two? I know there’s a lot you want. And I know why you won’t do that.

And it’s because you’re so afraid of being perceived as the bad guy here in APW.”

He smiled softly.

”I can think of about 99 other people that don’t give a flying fuck about whether you’re the angelic soul that you seem to want to appear as, or Satan himself.

I think you would be the World Champion by now if you hadn’t gone soft.”

”I never went soft.”

”Then why do you care about what everybody thinks about you?”

”I don’t-”

”Eric Donovan. Remember him?”

Aubrey’s eyes widened and her mouth remained opened as Erik cut her off in mid sentence, and her grip tightened around her fork. Cassandra’s face grew a bit pale as well and she turned to look over at her friend.

”Nearly ruined everything over that man. You fucked with him, and you fucked with him, and then when he showed you that he wasn’t one to be fucked with, you pushed him anyway, and he went over the edge. It cost you your relationship. It cost Evan Harrison his career at one point. Hell, it nearly drove Donovan out of the business!

And now he’s one of the 99 people that wants to kill your momentum and throw you over that top rope. He can get the revenge now that he didn’t get in 2011.

Terry Marvin. Vannah White. Mark Mania. Adrien Specter. Logan. All of them... all of them will rip you the fuck apart if you go out there with the same happy go lucky attitude that you’ve had in APW up until this point.”

”I think that’s enough Survive and Conquer talk for the day, isn’t it?”

”No.”

Aubrey sighed and gave a slight shrug.

”He’s right.”

”He’s... what?”

”Of course I am.”

”Erik is right. I can’t go into this match worrying about what people are going to think, or how people are going to react... or even how people are going to retaliate.

Last week on Asylum, I joined forces with Sally Talfourd and other women involvedin the matchup to make sure Level One and Terry Marvin couldn’t bully Vannah out of the Survive and Conquer tournament. I watched them torment and torture her for weeks because she posed a threat to Terry.

...There are 98 other people in this match, but it was Vannah that they were so afraid of. It was Vannah that was wronged, and had to relinquish her position.

And then, for some reason, I helped her get it back.

And every night since then, I’ve wondered if I made a stupid decision by sticking my nose in their business. I thought that if our Undisputed Champion and Level One are so afraid of her, then I have a reason to be too. And... she’s just one person. It just takes one person to change everything.”

Aubrey turned to Cassandra, sliding both of her hands under the table.

”You don’t win Survive and Conquer unless you have the classic never-say-die attitude.”

”And you learned how to die.”

Aubrey turned back to Erik and smirked.

”And I learned how to kill too.”

THE UGLY

”OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOAAAHOOWWWWW!”

Cassandra and Mr. Pocaczek sprang from their seats in alarm. Aubrey and Erik remained seated. Erik stared at Aubrey with a look of utter terror and his hands moved down his torso, down past his waist and to his left thigh.

”Aubrey, what the hell did you-?”

Cassandra’s eyes widened as she saw Aubrey pull her hands back up on top of the table, with her left hand sprinkled in blood. She moved her thumb up to her lips as if debating tasting it... but decided against it. That shit’s unsanitary.

”OOOOWWWHOooohohohoho, YES. GOD, YES.”

Cassandra looked between Erik and Aubrey in utter confusion.

”What in the hell?”

Erik reached down to his thigh and with a heavy tug, removed something from it. He winced and pulled the bloody fork up onto the table, throwing it into the center.

”THAT’S the shit I was talking about.”

”Aubrey, are you fucking insane?”

Gordon leaned over the counter, his eyes wide with fear.

”God... God, should I call an ambulance?”

”Ha, no! No, let it be. I deserved this.”

”You did not!”

”You didn’t deserve that, Erik.”

Aubrey looked at him unapologetically.

”That’s what you wanted though, right? You guys didn’t come here on accident. You didn’t come here as some sort of surprise to Cassandra, or to support the business... you knew we were here, and you came here to get fifteen minutes of fame. You came here to lecture me, so if I win Surv-”

”When you win.”

Aubrey glanced at him, but rolled her eyes once more and continued.

”...So if I win Survive and Conquer, you can use this to elevate your career. You’ll look back. You’ll tell everyone you told them so... and then you’ve got your own cute little spot in history.”

”You’re so closed-minded.”

”Stop.”

”’Stop telling me the truth about myself, Erik, I can’t take it because I’ve been spoiled by Hollywood and I can’t do shit without Talon holding my fucking lady dick.’”

”I will reach across this table and slit your throat.”

”Do it then.”

Aubrey reached for the knife that accompanied her salad since the fork was already indisposed... she stood up and raised the knife, but Cassandra stood up as well and grabbed her wrist.

”I guess it’s time to go.”

She turned and frowned at Erik.

”I’m sorry! This was so abrupt. We can meet up soon, right?”

”No, you can’t, because he didn’t come here to see you. He came here for that.”

Aubrey yanked her wrist free and gestured toward the APW camera man that was trying his best to sit discreetly in the darkest corner of the Soda Shak, but apparently failing miserably.

”I’m no worse than you, are I?”

”Shit, Erik, I don’t know. Apparently I’m a horrible human being underneath it all so I guess you’re not.”

”Survive and Conquer is another gig to you. It’s a publicity stunt. You NEVER thought you could win it. Was that tired monologue on Asylum last weekend supposed to prove to me that you care?

You just want your name to be intertwined with the biggest wrestling match in history. You don’t care who wins. Hell, you’d probably be content with just outlasting Aurora, but even if you don’t, who’s gonna remember a few weeks down the road, right? You don’t have to get embarrassed if you come up short. 98 other people came up short too.

I guess that’s a perk of being the most overexposed wrestler in history.”

”Ain’t no reason for women to be wrestlin’ wiff men no’way...”

Aubrey slammed her knife down into the table and turned to the old man, Bob Pocaczek, that had dared to say what he said.

”Well, how about we step outside grandpa, and we’ll see if we can’t change your opinion.”

Cassandra looked flustered. She took a step away from Aubrey, and Erik stared up at her with a broad grin.

”Yes...”

”I dun’ need to be talked to that way bah YOU of all people, young leddy. Ain’t no reason for women to be in there with the guys. I know it. You know it. She know it. Erik know it... stubborn ass just won’t say it.”

”Don’t mind him. He’s a little touched.”

Mr. Pocaczek threw his hands up in frustration.

”It’s wrong!”

”Why? Because I’m better than half of the men that are out there? No-- better than MOST of them?”

”It’s time to go...”

”Girl. You may think that. But you in for a wicked reality check one day. Might be Sunday.”

”Are you gonna be watching?”

”We’ll be there. Third row.”

”Wish it was the front, so I could catch you when you flyin’ over the top... juss’ so I could say I TOLD YA... and I pray to the Lord that you don’t get hurt, girl. I do. I hope you survive.”

He pushed his chair in and nodded to Erik.

”We gonna go. Ain’t no need for us to be hangin aroun’ here. Erik got a... a big ol’ gapin’ wound in his thigh now, thanks to you.”

”I hope Jair Hopkins throws you out. Or better yet, Anthony Bailey... Or Eric Donovan.”

Erik groaned as he pushed himself to his feet, using his father as a support to hobble to the door. He stopped and angled toward Aubrey, wearing the same grin.

”I’m not going to press charges. I want you to think about this. Let it aid you. Let it build you. Ha.”

He nodded toward Mr. Pocaczek and the two proceeded to make their way out to the front porch. Aubrey made her way to the door, leaning against the frame of the shack for a moment and then uttered final words toward the two.

”Mr. Pocaczek.”

The old man turned and gave Aubrey a cold look, which she returned with a smile.

”I’m going to do more than survive on Sunday. I’m going to win. And when I win the million dollars, I’m going to use every single bit of it... to make sure that people like Erik have a future in this business. I’m going to figure out a way to use my earnings to make sure you get to APW, Erik. I’ll build your career. And then I’ll take everything right back away from you, like a professional... fucking... thief.

I’m real good at that.

I...”

She paused, and her mouth slowly curved into a smile.

”I’ll see you Sunday.”

fin.

[jer]

APW Presents:
A Gray Nation Production:
::War Never Changes::

Voiceover:War... war never changes.

As the voice echoes into darkness, the screen crackles to black and white footage of the ending of the 2011 Survive and conquer match.

Marvin reaches up, and he's barely a fingertip away from the brief case! He takes another step up and reaches up again, but as he does so, Ruckus is somehow up, and he musters all the strength he can to push the ladder over and send Marvin falling all the way down through the announce table! The fans explode into loud exclamations of “HOLY SMOKES! HOLY SMOKES!”

Harvey: OH MY GOSH! OH MY FREAKIN' GOSH! TERRY MARVIN MUST BE DEAD!

Chase: WHAT A FALL! HOW IS HE STILL BREATHING!

Ruckus looks over the edge as he holds onto the ladder, seemingly shocked at what he's done to Terry Marvin. As he snaps out of it, Ruckus realizes that there's nobody to stop him from reaching the briefcase, so he sets up the ladder, and takes his time climbing up it, taking it one rung at a time, reaching up and grabbing a hold of the briefcase, unlatching the handle from the clip, and claiming the Surive and Conquer Briefcase while the crowd boos him loudly! DING! DING! DING!

Voiceover: Since the dawn of human kind, when our ancestors first discovered the killing path with rock and bone, blood has been spilled in the name of everything, from God, to justice, to simple psychotic rage.

Another flash of white before the screen comes back to colored footage of last year’s survive and conquer, leading to the final ten.

BAD ASS and Seth Black Start attacking Rebel. Johnny Knuckles is fighting with Aloith Starr. Gorean and Chris Hart are fighting. Goeren grabs Chris and lifts him up for side belly to back suplex, but sits him crotch first on the top rope. Goeren shakes the top rope and Chris bounces up and down. Goeren shoves him towards the outside, but lands on the ring apron. Goeren with his foot ties to get Chris off the apron but Chris rolls back in. Kurt Noble rushes over and starts attacking Goeren. Level One see’s Chris getting to his feet and Level One runs and hits Chris with a big running boot, sending him over the top rope and to the floor.

ELIMINATED: CHRIS HART

With Seth and BAD ASS double teaming Rebel. Rebel starts fighting back, hitting the both of them with punches. BAD ASS knee’s Rebel in the gut and throws him into the corner. BAD ASS charges at him, Rebel lifts him up over the top rope and BAD ASS lands on the apron. Rebel grabs Bad Ass by his head and drops it over the top rope. BAD ASS says on the apron. Rebel goes to Seth and Seth kicks him goes for an RKO but Rebel shoves Seth off, sending him right into BAD ASS, knocking him off the apron

ELIMINATED: BAD ASS

Seth turns to see Rebel running at him and clotheslines him over to the mat.

ELIMINATED: SETH BLACK

Chase: And then they we’re 10. And 8 of them are APW guys.

Harvey: I am getting word that #ALLAPWFINAL4 is trending world wide on Twitter right now.

Voiceover: In the year 2013, after millenia of armed conflict, destructive nature of man, could substain itself, no longer. The world was plunged into an abyss of pain and agony, 100 lost souls remained... fighting... surviving..conquering.

Images of the various competitors of Survive and Conquer 2013 were shown in rapid succession and suddenly it stopped with an explosion as the briefcase they would all be fighting for appeared on the screen. and the voice came back.

Voiceover: But war... war never changes.

APW PRESENTS: SURVIVE AND CONQUER 2013!

****

With the big opening cinematic out of the way, the camera comes to life in what appears to be a post apocalyptic setting, complete with swirling dust and sand. As the camera pans around, it catches the sight of a rusted out vault with the number ‘10’ on it. As it slowly opens up, a figure emerges from within it’s dark confines, forced to face the light for the first time in who knows how long. Their hand quickly pulls up to shield their eyes from the sun’s harsh rays before shaking their head. And when the hand lowered, the camera caught the glimpse of the vault dweller and it was revealed to be FFW’s Jodie Gray. She stretches her arms out wide and looks off into the vast wasteland that laid in front of her.

“Oh it’s my turn now?” Jodie asked as she looked to the left of her to notice that nine other vaults had been opened already and off in the distance she could hear gunfire and explosions. “Jesus Christ, they are wasting no time trying to lay waste to one another!” she screamed out before darting down the hill and stopping when she noticed a mailbox at the end of it. Her head tilted to the side slightly before she shrugged her shoulders and opened it up and found a nine millimeter pistol, a magazine, and a baseball bat in it.

“O....K. The gun and this survival magazine I understand being in here, but how can a baseball fit?!” Jodie exclaimed as she grabbed everything in it and placed the gun on her hip and held the bat firmly in her hands, smacking it gently against the mailbox. Happy with what she had, Jodie continued down her path but it didn’t last long as she heard the sound of a gun clicking from behind her... “Let me guess, you’re from number 11?” She asked as she turned slowly around to see a five-seven pistol pointed right at her skull.

“Yes, I am! You have wasted too much time, number 10!” The male voice of number 11 proclaimed as Jodie rolled her eyes and without so much as thinking about, kicked the man in his nuts and took his five-seven and pointed it right at his head. “You know I’d kill you right now... but I don’t want to upset the liberal media who might think I’m glorifying violence!” Jodie turns to face the camera and winks a bit.

(Jodie Gray everyone... the FFW’s Queen of Games. Oh, who am I you might be asking? I’m nobody important, just the producer of her promos and segments. I like to chime in from time to time with my own witty banter or my woeful pleas when she breaks something loaned to her for these things... that poor land speeder...)

“So instead of killing you, I’m just going to do this.” Jodie muses before she puts the gun away and makes a gun symbol with her fingers. “BANG!” She screams out and number 11 just lays there still, a look of confusion on his face. Jodie starts to walk away and number 11 gets the bright idea to try and start to run after her, but before he can move an inch, his body starts to disappear and fade away.

”ENTRANT ELEVEN HAS BEEN ELIMINATED BY NUMBER TEN!!!!!”

Jodie looks up into the air. “Where the hell did that voice come from?!” She screamed out before turning her head to face the camera and nod her head as she continued her walk within the wasteland.

“APW, in case you’ve not figured things out just yet; I like to have a little fun with these promos of mine. I’m not going to do what everyone else is going to do; I’m not going to walk to an empty ring and claim I’m a master of this business and then proclaim to the heavens above that I’m going to win this thing. I won’t sit in some dark dank room and be all broody and dark. Hell, I won’t even send in an open letter and set my sights on anyone and everyone.” Jodie comments as she twirls her fingers into the air and chuckles to herself. The wind picked up a bit and she started to struggle a bit within it.

“Survive and Conquer is kind of a big deal is it not? I mean why else would one hundred of us would be entering this thing to begin with? To create a legacy? Fulfil foolish desires to prove one’s worth? To show the world just who we are? The fame, the money... the bragging rights. With one hundred of us in this, the reasons are as varied as the entrants themselves. I know my ‘hero’ wants to just test herself... to stop me maybe? Misty, my hero, my soul sister... I hope she’s still around when I’m making my way to enter the fray. I’m her only friend out there until Mr. Dallins arrives after all, she needs me as much as I need her.”

”ENTRANTS TWO AND FOUR HAVE BEEN ELIMINATED BY NUMBER FIVE!”

The booming announcement brought a smile to Jodie’s face as she nods her head. “That’s my hero...” She mused to herself as she continued her trail down the waste land towards what appeared to be the remains of a supermarket. She looks around the corner to ensure another surprise like earlier occurs before she leans her body against the wall and looks back at the camera.

“I want to let you all know why I’m in this little contest. It’s not for fame, I’m pretty damned famous as is. It’s not for fortune, I have enough money to last for some time. It’s because I want to watch the madness of the men and women trying to their hardest to prove a point, to backstab each other all for the chance to proclaim victory... and all the while, I’ll be there, picking my shots, taking no unneeded risks. Letting the rest of you do all the work for me until it’s the final four. Then I’ll let my skills do all the talking for me as one by one your heroes will fall to me until I am the last one standing, that briefcase in my hands and I am called your winner of APW’s Survive and Conquer!”

(So much for no proclaiming victory, Jodie...)

Jodie chuckles to herself before shaking her head. “Oh I’m sorry, I’m getting ahead of myself, proclaiming such notions of victory over defeat... I mean it’s not like I’m on a nine match win streak as of today right? or I won’t be on a ten match one going into Survive and Conquer when I face off against my hero the night before at FFW’s Cold Blooded Pay-Per-View. It’s not like I just won an award for breakout star of 2012 in FFW as well. I’m an unknown and how dare I have faith in my own abilities right? How fuckin’ dare I believe I can outlast 99 others!”

”ENTRANTS 30, 21, AND 9 HAVE BEEN ELIMINATED BY ENTRANT FIVE!”

“God Damn, Hero, keep it up!” Jodie proclaims as she finally kicks up off the wall and sees two of the other ‘vault dwellers’ rounding the corner. She without so much as thinking cracks the baseball bat into both of their ribs and runs into the supermarket.

”ENTRANTS 13 AND 3 HAVE BEEN ELIMINATED BY ENTRANT TEN!”

“Survive and conquer this was not what I was expecting what so ever! But god damn am I enjoying the rush this is bringing me! This kill or be killed mentality, it brings out the best and the worst in us all. Normal people become monsters... monsters become savages... and savages? Well Savages become me. I’m not a nice girl, don’t let my looks fool you. I’m in this to win it all, I’m in this to take down as many of you as possible... I’m here for the infamy of becoming Survive and Conquer winner. I’m not here to get money to get a surgery to repair a severed tongue. I’m not here to make friends... I’m not here for some failed attempt at a comeback. I’m here to win, nothing more and nothing less. To add another notch on my headboard. To add another check on my ‘to do list’...”

Jodie makes a check mark in the air before blinking her eyes. She looks around the supermarket for any more entrants that may have had the same idea... so far none were in sight. This would be a great place to lay low, she had the advantage, plenty of ambush spots... just how she liked it. “I don’t care that I’m the tenth person in this little affair, I’m not bothered by it what so ever. In fact I like the fact I’m coming in so early, more chances for me to leave my mark, to never be forgotten here in your little home, APW. Because I promise you after Survive and Conquer, you won’t forget the name Jodie Gray. You’ll be too busy placing my name on the hall of all the past Survive and Conquer winners to do so. You can call this cockiness, I call it confidence.”

Jodie folds her arms together before she heard the door open up, quickly she darted towards the darkness, looking at who it could be that had entered her choke point. She smirked when she noticed who it was. “Hero...” she whispered to herself before coming out of the shadows and eyed entrant number five and smirked.

“You ready to play?” She asked out loudly as number five smirked at her and nodded her head slowly, getting into a fight position. and before the world could find out what happens the camera quickly fades to black...

[/i]Game Over[/b][/i]

[Vinny]

Swathes of orange brighten the deep blues on the far horizon as the sun rises to start the day. A cold wind whips in off the ocean that surrounds Boston's Logan International Airport. The early morning vacationers and business travelers shuffle in wearily, as the first flights of the morning begin rising off into the lightening sky. Amongst the early departures scheduled is British Airways Flight 238; non-stop from Boston, Massachusetts to London, England.

Terminal E6 in the International wing is sparely populated at this early hour with most of those waiting to board trying to retrieve some of the sleep they surrendered to get to the airport this early. But sitting off in the corner, away from the patiently waiting passengers, is a man dressed in a faded black leather jacket over a grungy black hooded sweatshirt, tattered blue jeans and a pair of unlaced work boots. The man is not seated on a chair, but rather with his back lodged against the meetings ends of the corner, with his dirty blonde hair hanging in tangled, knotted clumps over his forehead and face. Despite his slumped posture, he is very much awake; practically trembling.

The man is Frontier Grappling Arts wrestler, Malcolm Drake. His is a name of little acclaim and, in the waiting area of Terminal E6, of zero regard. Drake does not look dissimilar from the other travelers, with the exception of his disheveled and unkempt appearance, as a modestly sized young man carrying only a small black duffel bag tucked under his slumped right arm.

Presently, Drake runs a hand up his face, pushing the dangling strands matted hair from in front of eyes and running the back of his hand under his noses.

“Hi,” he says unceremoniously, “For those of you who don't know me – and it is probably safe to assume that is most of you – MY name is Malcolm Drake. It's not a clever name. It's not a name with any alternate spellings or catchy nicknames embedded in it. It's not a name that most people know... yet. But it is MY name. And along with a handful of wins and a pocketful of spare change, it is ALL that I have. Hmmm.”

Drake's voice rises and falls in an almost sing-song cadence. His eyes dart surreptitiously around the area before he continues to speak.

“There are a lot of things that I am not. I am NOT a multi-million-dollar superSTAR... I am not a larger than life behemoth. I... heh... I am not the kind of man that inspire cheers and applause from small children and simple-minded men. I am not yet a known commodity in the wider wrestling world, but I am slowly, patiently carving out my niche. I am carving it deep and hard into what remains of my victims.”

Drake flashes a sinister grin.

“There are some that call me a violent psychopath. Well... that's only half-true. There are some that call me a FREAK. I am NOT a FREAK. No. No, no, no, no. No. What I am is a survivor. Everyone in this sport and in this business wants to toss around hyperbole with their cute little nicknames and their talk about being 'the best,' or about 'conquering' or about 'surviving.' Do you know what surviving is? Hmmm? I do. I know what it is like to starve. I know what it is like to freeze. I know what it is like to eat from dumpsters and trash cans. I know what it is like to fight wild dogs for a meal. See most people don't like to acknowledge the dark places in their pathetic lives. They ignore the guy on the subway begging for change. Me? I grew up in those dark places. I know TRUE survival, not the fantasy-land 'survival' of professional wrestling. I... am a survivor.”

Spittle erupts from Drake's lips as he practically spits the words out.

“And I am the X-factor. I understand that everyone expects one of the mega-stars to win Action Packed Wrestling's Survive and Conquer match. Everyone is putting their money down on their favorite superSTAR to emerge from the stack of 99 other bodies. No one expects me to win... And that makes me very, very dangerous indeed.”

“Frontier Grappling Arts, my home promotion, they're paying my way across the Atlantic and into this Survive and Conquer match. Most other Americans could probably pay for their own ticket, but I am still living off SCRAPS. So FGA made a deal with the Devil. They paid my way and slapped their horrid name on my back and said 'go make us known, Drake.' They may not like me... but they know what I am capable of. Or at least they thing they know. They want exposure. They want me to put their name out there. And I will. I will scream it when I crack someone's skull. I will yell it when I break someone's neck. I will write it in the BLOOD of 99 other men across the APW canvas.”

Drake suppresses a cackle my digging his teeth into his bottom lip. He shakes his hair loose so that it falls back down, obscuring his face.

“But this isn't about FGA. This isn't even about winning. This is about me. You see I don't CARE about your precious little baubles and trinkets. I don't care about your shiny titles and your empty accolades. I care about making a statement. I care about making myself and The Murder known to the whole WORLD. I don't just want to make a name for myself, I want to carve 'MALCOLM DRAKE' across the headstone of Professional Wrestling. I wanted to hear my name screamed in terror. I want to hear it whispered... shhh... in fear. I want to hear every one of my opponents curse my name as they draw their last gasp of breath. I want to watch the light go out in their eyes.”

Drake yanks on a handful of his own hair as if to emphasize his point.

“But I'm not going to go ON and ON. I'm not hear to break out the measuring tape and brag about how far I can PISS like the rest of these troglodytes have been doing. I'm not hear to regale you with tales of my past or of my accomplishments. I don't want to, and you don't deserve to hear them. I am not a storyteller. I am not an entertainer. Hell, there are those out there that will tell you that I'm not even a wrestler. I don't care what YOU call ME. I don't care whether I have ninety-nine opponents or one. I don't care who I have to injure, who I have to hurt, who I have to maim or who I have to... remove. There is NOTHING that I won't due. And that is not your run-of-the-mill pro wrestling hyperbole. THAT is the promise of a man... a very dangerous man... that knows what I really means to survive.”

The announce system crackles on and the flight attendant announces they are about to begin the pre-boarding process. Drake cocks his head to listen and slowly pushes himself his feet with his bag in tow.

“My first ever time on an airplane... For the sake of all of you, pray that it crashes. I am Malcolm Drake. Memento mori.”

With those final words, Drake shuffles in amongst the throng of passengers awaiting his turn to board.