Post by Chris Madison on Jun 1, 2013 4:05:14 GMT -4
A creak of an old decrepit door to a dive bar in Oakland California is heard as the silhouette of a man stands in the doorway allowing sunlight to creep from behind into the dark, dingy establishment. The smell of alcohol punches the silhouette as he steps forward. After a few steps in he looks down to the ground as his feet stick the unkempt floor like a mouse caught on sticky paper.
The bartender snaps his head up to greet the entering customer with, "How ya doin' fella"? Followed by a moment of silence and then, "New to these parts? I ain't never seen you before".
The patron takes another step forward and stands underneath a hanging light which is flickering on and off, buzzing like a swarm of bees. He is revealed to be APW's newest signee, Chris Madison. He strolls to the bar and drags out the bar stool creating an ear piercing metal screech. Madison glanced up to the bartender and didn't utter a sound. He took a seat while digging into his pocket. Madison pulls out a cigar and a metal lighter which he flicks open sending a clanking sound through out the bar. With one end of the cigar in his mouth Madison slowly torches the other with the blazing orange flame from his lighter. After a few puffs the bar begins to get a little hazy from the smoke and a noxious stench takes over.
"Watcha think you're doin'?" the bartender questioned while cleaning out a glass with a white dish rag.
With a long slow drag of his cigar, Madison simply replied "whatever I want".
Those three words said it all. Cocky, arrogant, a chip on his shoulder, Chris Madison always felt he could do as he pleases. He took another long drag of his cigar turning the lit end a bright orange. "Now get me a jack daniels, on the rocks." he demanded.
The bartender turned his back and reached to the shelf to grab the bottle of liquor. In the mean time some the regulars have gathered around a pool table in the far corner of the establishment. Outfitted in leather vests with white tank tops underneath, denim jeans, and black boots; the patrons begin to whisper amongst one another. The bartender places the drink in front of Madison with a look of disgust and quickly turns away.
Sipping on his drink with ash scattered all over the bar in front of him, Chris takes inventory of the people in the bar. Madison takes the end of the cigar and mashes it into the wooden bar top generating grunts and moans from the locals that watched on.
"What the fuck!" the bartender yells while wiping the ash and cigar into a trash can. "Fella, I think it's about you find yourself the door."
For the first time Madison cracks a smile. Something about being unwanted actually makes Chris feel gratified. He looks at the bartender as he finishes his drink. "Pour me another fucking drink." he demanded while throwing a hundred dollar bill that he had fished from his pocket onto the bar.
"I ain't pouring you shit...You've more than outlived your welcome." the bartender exclaimed while throwing his wash rag over his shoulder.
Madison stood to his feet and reached over the counter grabbing the bartender by his shirt and pulling him forward. "You really want to go down that road?" Madison asked with a sly smirk as if he came looking for a confrontation.
The bartender peered passed Madison and noticed his local clientele approaching from behind armed with pool cues. The first one swings and breaks the stick over Madison's back, breaking free the grip he had on the bartender. Madison turns around and is met by a punch being thrown his way from the same patron. He grabbed the patron by the arm, blocking the punch. He pulls his head down and meets him with a knee. Madison then takes him by the head and smashes it into the bar top, knocking him out cold.
Madison turns his attention to the next two and his met with a beer bottle shattering over his forehead. Chris stumbles backwards against the bar. One steps forward and is introduced to Madison's foot right where the sun don't shine. Madison then doubles over and flips the biker over the bar in one effortless motion causing the flimsy shelves to come crashing down atop of him. A bottle of Jack Daniels lands on the bar top. The final guy swings his pool stick but Madison ducks. While rising back up he shoves the biker causing him to stumble and lose his balance, falling to one knee. Before the biker could regain his footing Madison charges and hits a shinning wizard.
He pressed his hand onto his forehead and peeled it away admiring the blood in his palm from a small cut created by the broken bottle. After surveying the damage Chris locks in on the camera following him around. "I do things my way..." he whispered before a couple of deep breathes.
"It's been a long seven years. Seven years since I have competed here in the United States. During that time I have truly found myself. Competing in Japan has refined my capabilities inside that ring and changed my whole outlook on this business. I used to think it was all about the titles, the glory, and all the rewards that come along with being the poster boy of the company. I was that cocky kid, a fresh face who demanded respect without merit. A big mouth that always got him in trouble. But something was missing. I felt it in my core. Fast cars, fast women, tons of money...none of it ever really satisfied me. At times I felt overly protected. Protected by management who didn't want to see their investment hurt. The level of competition I faced at times was less than worthy but I could care less because I was young and stupid. But not anymore."
"Now I say Fuck You! Fuck You to the management...Fuck You to the establishment...Fuck you to anyone who thinks they can tell Chris Madison what to do. I beat to my own drum. I'm not some dumb kid whose blinded by the glitz and glamour of a shiny title belt. My purpose in life is to compete. Plain and simple. I want the best of the best in front of me. I want to look across that ring and see the same fire that burns deep within me, in my opponents eyes. I don't care about winning or losing. It's just a number on some dusty old record book. I don't care about championship belts. I am looking to simply beat people up. You step in the ring with me and win, lose, or draw I can promise you one thing. You will wake up feeling like you have been a car wreck!"
"In a few days I make my APW debut. The powers to be, President Jeff and Meltdown general manager Sienna Harrison felt the best use of their newest acquisition was to team him up with someone he's never met in his life and pair them against one of APW's newest tag teams The Unforgiven. They must think highly of you boys. Grooming you guys to be the future of the tag team division. You see they figure they throw you a couple of bones to get the momentum going. Feels good doesn't it? Starting off with a huge win. Making your debut against a team who signed their release forms almost quicker than it took for the ink to dry on their contracts. Now to really test you the brilliant idea is to put you against two guys who couldn't point each other out of lineup. Man they must really have a hard on for you guys."
"You know Zachariah, I'm surprised we've never crossed paths before. We've both practically been nomads in our careers here in the states. Never really finding that place to call home. Never really fitting in and always searching for just a little more. We've both spent extensive time over seas in Japan, sharpening the tools of our trade. Developing a passion for that famous strong style of japanese wrestling. In a weird way we're not that different. Just a few exceptions. You labor for pain, while I seek only competition. That desire is what keeps us going. It's keeps us breathing, fighting, and always returning for more. It's our drug. I also don't prance around like a psychopath pretending to be the baddest man on the planet only being tamed by the woman at his side. Sure I'm in your face and I have a big mouth at times. But it's because I don't like authority and have always been able to hold my own. I don't take claim that I'm unbeatable, just that I will give you a fight."
"Maybe that's why I actually look forward to squaring off with you Zachariah. At times to me names blend as people become clones of one another in this industry. Points of my career are just a blur of one cookie cutter prototype after another. I respect the path you've taken to get here. Keep in mind that I've fought those japanese death matches just like you so I know the character it builds. It's not for everyone. We have similar scars and have survived the same punishment. But barking like the mad dog that you try to portray is not going to intimidate me. It might work I want that woman of yours to let go of the leash. I want to face the best you can be. Don't hold anything back, I beg of you. I've won in that ring and I've lost in that ring. Either way, no one has ever had an easy go inside that squared circle."
"Then there's Sentinel, what to say about a man who doesn't say a word. Others might get intimidated by your size, your presence. Not me. I've fought bigger and badder. I've gone toe to toe with true giants. Gladiators who don't need a woman to speak for them. I'm sure she serves a purpose for you. Perhaps you're too damn stupid to speak for yourself. Just let her sit in some bogus set belonging to Tales From the Crypt Keeper and try to install fear into your opponents. Unfortunately the dark overtones and ominous setting doesn't shake me. You and Miss Cleo can read as many tarot cards about my future. I'm sure it will fabricate tales of destruction and sacrifice. No ones buying that sci-fi channel garbage."
"Come Monday I'll stand in that with or without my partner and I'll wait for this wonderful band of misfits to make their way to the ring. When the dominatrix, her gimp, the mute, and Miss Cleo stroll down to the ring I'll be ready. I'll be ready to show the APW what real wrestling is. I'll be ready introduce this reject foursome to their first taste of defeat. Sure the odds may not be in my favor. You two are familiar with each other. There is chemistry. Even if that is the case and you win...you won't walk out the same. I can promise your that."
"See unfortunately for you boys I'm not afraid of the dark. I've danced with the devil. I've stared death in the eyes and sent the reaper packing. I am unlike anything you have ever had to deal with..." Madison reaches to the bar top and grabs the bottle of Jack Daniels. He takes off the top and throws back a swig. "Man that hits the spot." he sighed with relief.
"Oh and Brian Hollywood...You better show up and don't get in my way." Madison takes a slow stroll towards the doorway as the scene fades to black.
The bartender snaps his head up to greet the entering customer with, "How ya doin' fella"? Followed by a moment of silence and then, "New to these parts? I ain't never seen you before".
The patron takes another step forward and stands underneath a hanging light which is flickering on and off, buzzing like a swarm of bees. He is revealed to be APW's newest signee, Chris Madison. He strolls to the bar and drags out the bar stool creating an ear piercing metal screech. Madison glanced up to the bartender and didn't utter a sound. He took a seat while digging into his pocket. Madison pulls out a cigar and a metal lighter which he flicks open sending a clanking sound through out the bar. With one end of the cigar in his mouth Madison slowly torches the other with the blazing orange flame from his lighter. After a few puffs the bar begins to get a little hazy from the smoke and a noxious stench takes over.
"Watcha think you're doin'?" the bartender questioned while cleaning out a glass with a white dish rag.
With a long slow drag of his cigar, Madison simply replied "whatever I want".
Those three words said it all. Cocky, arrogant, a chip on his shoulder, Chris Madison always felt he could do as he pleases. He took another long drag of his cigar turning the lit end a bright orange. "Now get me a jack daniels, on the rocks." he demanded.
The bartender turned his back and reached to the shelf to grab the bottle of liquor. In the mean time some the regulars have gathered around a pool table in the far corner of the establishment. Outfitted in leather vests with white tank tops underneath, denim jeans, and black boots; the patrons begin to whisper amongst one another. The bartender places the drink in front of Madison with a look of disgust and quickly turns away.
Sipping on his drink with ash scattered all over the bar in front of him, Chris takes inventory of the people in the bar. Madison takes the end of the cigar and mashes it into the wooden bar top generating grunts and moans from the locals that watched on.
"What the fuck!" the bartender yells while wiping the ash and cigar into a trash can. "Fella, I think it's about you find yourself the door."
For the first time Madison cracks a smile. Something about being unwanted actually makes Chris feel gratified. He looks at the bartender as he finishes his drink. "Pour me another fucking drink." he demanded while throwing a hundred dollar bill that he had fished from his pocket onto the bar.
"I ain't pouring you shit...You've more than outlived your welcome." the bartender exclaimed while throwing his wash rag over his shoulder.
Madison stood to his feet and reached over the counter grabbing the bartender by his shirt and pulling him forward. "You really want to go down that road?" Madison asked with a sly smirk as if he came looking for a confrontation.
The bartender peered passed Madison and noticed his local clientele approaching from behind armed with pool cues. The first one swings and breaks the stick over Madison's back, breaking free the grip he had on the bartender. Madison turns around and is met by a punch being thrown his way from the same patron. He grabbed the patron by the arm, blocking the punch. He pulls his head down and meets him with a knee. Madison then takes him by the head and smashes it into the bar top, knocking him out cold.
Madison turns his attention to the next two and his met with a beer bottle shattering over his forehead. Chris stumbles backwards against the bar. One steps forward and is introduced to Madison's foot right where the sun don't shine. Madison then doubles over and flips the biker over the bar in one effortless motion causing the flimsy shelves to come crashing down atop of him. A bottle of Jack Daniels lands on the bar top. The final guy swings his pool stick but Madison ducks. While rising back up he shoves the biker causing him to stumble and lose his balance, falling to one knee. Before the biker could regain his footing Madison charges and hits a shinning wizard.
He pressed his hand onto his forehead and peeled it away admiring the blood in his palm from a small cut created by the broken bottle. After surveying the damage Chris locks in on the camera following him around. "I do things my way..." he whispered before a couple of deep breathes.
"It's been a long seven years. Seven years since I have competed here in the United States. During that time I have truly found myself. Competing in Japan has refined my capabilities inside that ring and changed my whole outlook on this business. I used to think it was all about the titles, the glory, and all the rewards that come along with being the poster boy of the company. I was that cocky kid, a fresh face who demanded respect without merit. A big mouth that always got him in trouble. But something was missing. I felt it in my core. Fast cars, fast women, tons of money...none of it ever really satisfied me. At times I felt overly protected. Protected by management who didn't want to see their investment hurt. The level of competition I faced at times was less than worthy but I could care less because I was young and stupid. But not anymore."
"Now I say Fuck You! Fuck You to the management...Fuck You to the establishment...Fuck you to anyone who thinks they can tell Chris Madison what to do. I beat to my own drum. I'm not some dumb kid whose blinded by the glitz and glamour of a shiny title belt. My purpose in life is to compete. Plain and simple. I want the best of the best in front of me. I want to look across that ring and see the same fire that burns deep within me, in my opponents eyes. I don't care about winning or losing. It's just a number on some dusty old record book. I don't care about championship belts. I am looking to simply beat people up. You step in the ring with me and win, lose, or draw I can promise you one thing. You will wake up feeling like you have been a car wreck!"
"In a few days I make my APW debut. The powers to be, President Jeff and Meltdown general manager Sienna Harrison felt the best use of their newest acquisition was to team him up with someone he's never met in his life and pair them against one of APW's newest tag teams The Unforgiven. They must think highly of you boys. Grooming you guys to be the future of the tag team division. You see they figure they throw you a couple of bones to get the momentum going. Feels good doesn't it? Starting off with a huge win. Making your debut against a team who signed their release forms almost quicker than it took for the ink to dry on their contracts. Now to really test you the brilliant idea is to put you against two guys who couldn't point each other out of lineup. Man they must really have a hard on for you guys."
"You know Zachariah, I'm surprised we've never crossed paths before. We've both practically been nomads in our careers here in the states. Never really finding that place to call home. Never really fitting in and always searching for just a little more. We've both spent extensive time over seas in Japan, sharpening the tools of our trade. Developing a passion for that famous strong style of japanese wrestling. In a weird way we're not that different. Just a few exceptions. You labor for pain, while I seek only competition. That desire is what keeps us going. It's keeps us breathing, fighting, and always returning for more. It's our drug. I also don't prance around like a psychopath pretending to be the baddest man on the planet only being tamed by the woman at his side. Sure I'm in your face and I have a big mouth at times. But it's because I don't like authority and have always been able to hold my own. I don't take claim that I'm unbeatable, just that I will give you a fight."
"Maybe that's why I actually look forward to squaring off with you Zachariah. At times to me names blend as people become clones of one another in this industry. Points of my career are just a blur of one cookie cutter prototype after another. I respect the path you've taken to get here. Keep in mind that I've fought those japanese death matches just like you so I know the character it builds. It's not for everyone. We have similar scars and have survived the same punishment. But barking like the mad dog that you try to portray is not going to intimidate me. It might work I want that woman of yours to let go of the leash. I want to face the best you can be. Don't hold anything back, I beg of you. I've won in that ring and I've lost in that ring. Either way, no one has ever had an easy go inside that squared circle."
"Then there's Sentinel, what to say about a man who doesn't say a word. Others might get intimidated by your size, your presence. Not me. I've fought bigger and badder. I've gone toe to toe with true giants. Gladiators who don't need a woman to speak for them. I'm sure she serves a purpose for you. Perhaps you're too damn stupid to speak for yourself. Just let her sit in some bogus set belonging to Tales From the Crypt Keeper and try to install fear into your opponents. Unfortunately the dark overtones and ominous setting doesn't shake me. You and Miss Cleo can read as many tarot cards about my future. I'm sure it will fabricate tales of destruction and sacrifice. No ones buying that sci-fi channel garbage."
"Come Monday I'll stand in that with or without my partner and I'll wait for this wonderful band of misfits to make their way to the ring. When the dominatrix, her gimp, the mute, and Miss Cleo stroll down to the ring I'll be ready. I'll be ready to show the APW what real wrestling is. I'll be ready introduce this reject foursome to their first taste of defeat. Sure the odds may not be in my favor. You two are familiar with each other. There is chemistry. Even if that is the case and you win...you won't walk out the same. I can promise your that."
"See unfortunately for you boys I'm not afraid of the dark. I've danced with the devil. I've stared death in the eyes and sent the reaper packing. I am unlike anything you have ever had to deal with..." Madison reaches to the bar top and grabs the bottle of Jack Daniels. He takes off the top and throws back a swig. "Man that hits the spot." he sighed with relief.
"Oh and Brian Hollywood...You better show up and don't get in my way." Madison takes a slow stroll towards the doorway as the scene fades to black.
