Group 1 RP's

[President Jeff]

If your name is below, post your RP for Survive and Conquer here

1 RP, 4000 Word limit


James Stall Vs Brandon Bash Vs, Sir Lionel de Montbar Vs Anathema Vs Roy Speede Vs Lawrence Blackburn Vs Roscoe Shame Vs Scott Wilson Vs Pat E Nigma Vs Stefan Raab Vs Jason Blade Vs Paradox McSweeney Vs AC Smith Vs William Wallace Vs LUNA Vs Jack Benevolence Vs Rex Evans Vs Amy Zing Vs El Pablo Vs Xianlong

[epftw]

*[[ The scene opens on darkness, though the absolute audio-visual stillness this brings is swiftly punctuated by the somewhat-hushed tones of a lone male voice. ]]* 

Who am I? 

*[[ Spoken as if answering to an unheard question, the verbalisation is followed immediately by a soft chuckle, lasting no longer than a few seconds. ]]* 

...Man.. that's a tough one to answer. 

Especially now. 

If you'd asked me six years ago, when I first started out in this whole deal... that would've been easy; a grass-green graduate of papá's education station that had come to the Land of Opportunity to follow in some familial footsteps and see if he couldn't make a powerful, permanent impression on Planet Pro-Wrestling. I was a good kid.. maybe a little TOO smilin' and public-profilin', looking back... but, man.. the kinda situations I kept finding myself caught up in? 

*[[ At this point, the darkness suddenly begins to clear, the sound of a roaring, raucous crowd becoming audible in the background as our eyes are introduced to what appears to be footage of a professional-wrestling contest. It quickly becomes clear that certain efforts have been made in post-production to conceal the identities of some parties involved; however, what is certainly very clear is the sight of one man dressed like some kind of too-cool-and-sexy grandmaster piledriving a man dressed like an overweight janitor off a ring apron through a flaming table. Soon after impact, the darkness closes in once again. ]]* 

Heh.. that pair of shoes didn't stay goody for long. 

*[[ The screen clears again, this time to show that same grandmaster leaping forward off the top of a ladder to come crashing down on another individual and through a pair of (non-flaming) tables. ]]* 

I quickly established a reputation as one of the most "extreme" young competitors on the circuit... 

*[[ Another retreating of the darkness leads to a close-up shot of a title belt being held aloft, a large gold "X" displayed prominently across the central nameplate. ]]* 

...I certainly think I shed more blood in those first few months than anybody else in that company then or since. 

*[[ A timely shot of "grandmaster" lying on his stomach and elbows on the mat, as blood drips at a considerable rate from his forehead onto the canvas below. ]]* 

I waged war with all the classic elements of this industry; chairs... 

*[[ "Grandmaster" is shown getting smashed in the face with a steel chair wielded by a man with an artistically-painted face and artistically-coloured hair. ]]* 

...ladders... 

*[[ The individual and a "Homicidal" Mexican team up to drive a pair of ladders into the sides of a monstrous vampire's head, sending him toppling off the ring apron through a table on the floor. ]]* 

...thumbtacks... 

*[[ "Grandmaster" attempts a triple-jump moonsault press onto "vampire", who sidesteps, leaving "grandmaster" with nowhere to go but crashing down onto a mat full of thumbtacks. ]]* 

...fire... 

*[[ "Vampire and "homicidal" execute a combination-chokeslam-powerbomb on "grandmaster" off the top of a ladder in the ring, sending him crashing through a flaming table on the outside. ]]* 

...glass... 

*[[ "Grandmaster" pulls "paints" up on the top of a cabin of a flatbed truck.. hooks him up and drags him off, sending both men crashing into the flatbed through fifteen panes of promptly-shattered glass. ]]* 

...more glass... 

*[[ "Grandmaster" is dragged off the top turnbuckle by a muscular individual with short blonde spiked hair stood on the apron, then pulled into a Tombstone position and driven headfirst through a glass table on the outside. ]]* 

...actually, there was a LOT of glass... 

*[[ Blonde-spikes marches around ringside with a pane of glass held in his hands.. a pane of glass that "grandmaster" can promptly be seen charging towards at full speed, eventually spearing his body through it and driving both the shards and his own shoulder into the torso of his opponent. ]]* 

...Jesus, what the hell were we thinking? 

*[[ Blonde-spikes picks up a load of glass fragments in his hand, then smashes it into the conveniently-obscured face of "grandmaster", grinding his palm back and forth as "grandmaster" screams in pain. ]]* 

Anyway.. s**t was mad cray... but then... May 29th happened. 

*[[ The darkness clears once more, thought this transition feels a little more permanent than the previous as a small block of text fades into the bottom-left corner of the screen: 

Combat Pro presents: May Massacre 

May 29th 2008 

Rogers Arena 

Vancouver, BC 

As we look on, the near-20,000-strong crowd is on their feet, watching on excitedly as "grandmaster" hoists the groggy body of "paints" up onto the top turnbuckle in the corner. With "paints" just about settled, "grandmaster" then climbs up after him, stepping up onto the very top rope as anticipation audibly reverberates and grows around the arena. "Grandmaster" steadies himself.. then leaps, looking for a Frankensteiner... only to have "paints" suddenly hook his arms around "grandmaster's" thighs.. twist.. and dump "grandmaster" to the concrete floor on the outside in a sickening-looking powerbomb, "grandmaster" landing right on the back of his head and shoulders as the crowd immediately reacts with some distress.  

"OH.. NO! MY GOD.. EL PABLO JUST.. HE JUST GOT POWERBOMBED.. FROM THE TOP TO THE FLOOR... FOR GOD'S SAKES THAT LOOKED.. WE NEED HELP OUT HERE NOW, PEOPLE!!!" 

*[[ At this point, darkness slowly creeps back across the screen, all light and sound from the video fading into the abyss. After a few moments, the voice of our narrator slips back into sound. ]]* 

...Everything's kind of a blur after that. 

*[[ A burst of light suddenly flashes across the screen as "Party Hard" by Andrew WK tears onto the soundtrack, Yakuza Kicking the darkness into last Tuesday and cuing a rapid-fire sequence of shots and skits, each broadcast in bright and brilliant technicolour... 

()

As the clips continue to fly by at an ever-increasing rate, the music is suddenly nudged into the background by the emergence of a new, female voice. ]]* 

Uhhm... 

*[[ Another flash of light appears, calling an end to the seizure inducement and transporting us instead into what I am quite sure will be recognizable to everybody watching as the corporate offices of APW. A confused and exasperated woman - who I am quite sure will be recognizable to everybody watching as a member of APW's corporate office staff - sits behind a wooden desk, leaning back in her chair as she glances up at a man dressed, well, in a manner rather out of keeping with our present environment; A white hooded vest, a long-sleeved white undershirt and loose-fitting white pants, all topped-off and trimmed with bright pink fur and accessorised AWESOMELY with pink, fur-covered boots and a belt made of pink and black feather boas, tied at the back with excess strips hanging down behind to create the image of a series of "tails." As the camera scrolls up this.. striking.. attire, we finally conclude at this individual's head and face, which has been concealed beneath a white lucha mask, adorned on either side with a pair of furry "rodent" ears. Having afforded us opportunity to make an initial survey of the presumed star of our proceedings, the camera pulls sharply back, returning us to a position of neutral bystander as the masked man stands with his hands on his hips, gazing off misty-eyed into the middle-distance. ]]* 

OFFICE WORKER: ...that's great and all.. but I just meant, like, what's your name? You know.. so I can fill out your application.

*[[ The camera closes back in on the face of the masked man, now suddenly tinged with sheepishness, his eyes darting from side to side as he chews a little on his bottom lip. ]]* 

MASKED MAN: ...Ah.

*[[ The masked man spins a swift 90 degrees, dropping into the seat and planting an elbow on the desk beside him. ]]* 

MM: It's Pablo. El Pablo.

*[[ The woman sighs, nods and swivels to face the computer positioned at one corner of the desk as the screen suddenly fades to black. ]]* 

----------*****---------- 

*[[ After only a few seconds, the sound of a rather-more muffled rendition of "Party Hard" signals the dispersion of the darkness once more. As our eyes are afforded vision, we find ourselves just outside APW HQ, as El Pablo - now sporting a pretty sweet pair of pink-and-black-paint-splattered shutter shades - digs into his vest pocket and pulls out a cellphone. He glances at the screen briefly, before pressing upon it with his thumb and lifting it to his ear. ]]* 

EP: BABY! Heyyyyy baby.. baby baby baby baby... how you doin', baby?

*[[ The screen is suddenly and dramatically swept in half by the appearance of a thick black bar down the center. EP remains on the left, while on the right, a beautiful young woman appears. Her straight, dusty-blonde hair hangs down to brush the shoulders of a bright-pink fur coat, her face concealed in similar manner to EP's beneath a slightly less encompassing lucha mask; largely black and decorated with rainbow-coloured trim (I realise this may jar with my description of her as "beautiful", but, trust me.. she's a smokeshow). She, obviously, has a cellphone currently pressed to her own ear, and - in what is already becoming a recurring theme - she has a look of slight confusion upon her face. ]]* 

MASKED WOMAN: That's a rather large amount of "baby"s...

EP: No it's not, it's a COMPLETELY normal and acceptable amount of "baby"s.. nothing shady or secretive going on here, nosiree-NAH!

MW: Uhhh-huh... so, what are you up to?

*[[ That sheepish expression spreads across EP's face again, the psychedelic squirrel apparently unwilling to divulge any details of his present whereabouts. ]]* 

EP: I am... doing a.. promotional.. thing... for SCW! In... uuuuualbuquerque..? Yes. Albuquerque. So...

*[[ The masked woman smirks, clearly not buying whatever BS EP is selling. ]]* 

MW: Ohhh wowww.. Sabra's actually letting you get on the PR stuff now, huh? Even after all you've done to her?

EP: ......Yes.

MW: Fascinating!

EP: Why, what are you up to?

*[[ The woman's eyes noticeably widen all of a sudden, apparently caught off-guard by the redirection of the line of questioning. ]]* 

MW: I am... you know.. the same. Innnnndianapolis!

EP: Dianapolis? Where's that?

MW: INdianapolis.

*[[ EP's eyes now narrow, clearly about as trusting of this woman's word as she is of his. ]]* 

EP: ...I see.

MW: ...Yes.

EP: ...Will you be home for dinner?

MW: ...In Vegas?

EP: ...Yes.

MW: ...Sure!

EP: ...Alright then.

MW: ...Awesome.

*[[ EP's face suddenly snaps into a big, beaming grin. ]]* 

EP: See ya later, baby!

*[[ A matching grin spreads over his baby's face. ]]* 

MW: Okay; love you, babe!

EP: You too!

*[[ Both hang up their phones, as the black bar slides out through the bottom of the screen.. to reveal them standing side-by-side, literally 3 inches from each other. After leaving the situation to linger for a hilarious couple of seconds, EP turns... ]]* 

EP: FU-

*[[ ...and collapses backwards to the floor, equal parts caught off-guard, startled and surprised. The masked woman looks around, presumably hoping no-one has witness this event, as EP scrambles back to his feet. ]]* 

EP: Heyyyy, Cristal!

CRISTAL: Heyyyy, El Pablo!

EP: What, uh.. what are you doing here?

C: ...You're asking what I'm doing at APW during Survive & Conquer sign-up week?

EP: Yeah!

C: ...I'm painting the floors.

EP: Huh.. don't they have carpets, though?

*[[ Cristal rolls her eyes, though a smile creeps onto her face as she gives EP a playful slap upside the head. ]]* 

C: I signed myself up for the tournament, dumbass!

EP: You did? Babe that's grea-awwww, wait...

*[[ Cristal appears confused. ]]* 

C: What?

*[[ EP digs into his vest pockets once again, pulling out a crumpled sheet of paper. He opens it up and runs his eye over it... ]]* 

EP: See, check this bit; "One applicant per person."

*[[ Cristal looks between the paper and her lover, apparently none the wiser even with this new information. ]]* 

C: ...And? How does that affect you and I signing up for it?

*[[ EP casts his eyes to the skies, apparently trying to formulate some kind of answer or explanation on the fly. ]]* 

EP: BECAUSE... I only feel like half a person when you're not around me... so.. THEREFORE... your half and my half.. our two halves together... must make up one whole person!

*[[ Cristal's eyes well up, her hands clasping together against her chest as her heart swells to, like, three times its regular size. ]]* 

C: AWWWWW... I think I just caught diabetes!

*[[ EP smirks. ]]* 

EP: Hey, if you've only just caught dat s**t NOW...

*[[ EP digs into his pockets again and pulls out a packet of Skittles, promptly pouring out a handful and tossing them into his mouth. ]]* 

EP: ...we're doing pretty good.

*[[ Matching smiles linger on the faces of the lovebirds as they gaze into each other's eyes.. at least for a few moments before the reality of the situation settles in once again and they let out stereo sighs, tucking hands into pockets with a synchronicity that only a couple of Rainbeaus can possess. ]]* 

C: So... I guess, if the both of us can't Survive and Conquer this thing... what do we do?

*[[ EP shrugs. ]]* 

EP: I dunno.

*[[ After a further moment or two of thought.. Cristal turns to face her partner. ]]* 

C: ...Fight you for it?

*[[ EP turns to meet his girlfriend's gaze, initially a little perplexed, though his mouth soon curls into a smirk of some confidence. ]]* 

EP: Well... if you REALLY insist...

*[[ The screen fades to black once again. ]]* 

----------*****---------- 

*****A TEN-HOUR FLIGHT TO LONDON, A ONE-HOUR DRIVE TO PORTSMOUTH AND EXACTLY 3.6 SECONDS LATER***** 

----------*****---------- 

*[[ The darkness clears, having transported us in the meantime to be some kind of home wrestling gym, decked out all around with various banners and bits of decoration depicting the words "La Mazmorra Volando" ..whatever that means.. probably, like, "The Volando Dungeon" or something. Anyway, our attentions are focused specifically one one ring, right in the centre of the room.. where we see El Pablo screaming in pain from within the clutches of a Stepover Toehold Inverted Cravate, perfectly and ruthlessly applied by Cristal. After struggling for as long as is necessary to drive the point home, EP starts tapping frantically on the mat, as a bell rings and a man in a referee's shirt who looks remarkably like a Mexican Marty Jannetty and is, I am quite sure, immediately recognizable to everybody watching as legendary luchador and father of El Pablo, "The Flying Kid" Chico Volando steps into shot. ]]* 

DING DING DING! 

CV: Damas y caballeros, el ganador de este concurso a través de la sumisión hilarante rápida, y aparente portador real de los pantalones peludos en esta relación... CRISTAL!!!

*[[ Cristal releases the hold and rolls to her knees, throwing a pair of triumphant fists above her head as Chico takes her by the wrist and lifts her to her feet. As the dungeon master and his kinda-sorta daughter-in-law celebrate, the defeated EP drags himself through whimpers and gritted teeth towards the ropes. ]]* 

CV: Buen trabajo, Cristal! I see my teachings have not gone unremembered...

*[[ Chico turns towards his son, a smirk on his face. ]]* 

CV: ...by some, anyway.

*[[ EP drags himself over the bottom rope, his head and shoulders half-hanging out of the ring as he attempts to get his breath back. ]]* 

EP: Does anyone else taste blood? ..or sugar? ..or.. I guess both?

CV: That's just vergüenza y culpa, mi hijo.. shame and blame!

*[[ Chico turns back to Cristal, who is still subtly celebrating to herself. ]]* 

CV: I tell you, cariño, you pull out some mueves like that in the tournament.. you're gonna surprise an awful lot of people!

C: Thanks! But, uh.. I'm not gonna be in the tournament. I never actually signed up.

*[[ Confusion falls upon the ring, not least on the face of El Pablo, who snaps his head around to stare up at his smirking girlfriend. ]]* 

EP: Wait... HUH!? Then why di.. what the hell wa.. I mea..... HUH!?

*[[ Cristal looks to EP.. then to Chico.. then just shrugs. ]]* 

C: ...Funny.

*[[ Chico laughs, as does EP - though the latter's is notably rather less sincere as he dramatically pulls himself up to his feet using the ropes.. then charges wildly at Cristal.. who calmly sidesteps and trips EP down to the mat, dropping down right on top of him and locking him in the exact same hold again. The camera scrolls back up to Chico, who just looks down at the action with his hands on his hips and a shake of the head. ]]* 

CV: ...Idiota.

*[[ The screen fades to black once again. ]]* 

----------*****---------- 

*[[ After a couple of moments, the darkness fades. We find ourselves still inside the ring inside the "Dungeon," though the positions of our hosts have changed. Cristal sits Indian-style in the corner, her back propped up against the turnbuckle as EP lays on his back in front of her, his head resting in her lap. Just in front of him is Chico, sat literally ass-backwards on a steel chair, his arms folded and resting on the top of the
back. ]]* 

CV: So... Survive and Conquer, huh?

EP: Survive and Conquer!

CV: That's some big-time mierdas, right there.

EP: It don't get much bigger! Cats and campeones from every single summit in the sierra de lucha libre all coming together in a single stellar showcase of insanity and s**t-cray stipulations! Just look at the list of promotions being represented; APW, SCW, KCW, NGIW, SNW, Phoenix-W, WARPED-W, , WW2, Nosferatu...

C: I don't think all of those ar-

EP: One of the dudes in this thing is a legit vampire, Cris, I swear to god!

Tell you what, though.. putting some Paints into THAT undead Face would make a perfect little side-shot to my plan...

CV: Plan?

*[[ A smirk spreads across EP's face, as he employs the aid of his girlfriend to push him into a seated position in front of her. As he talks, he digs into his pocket and pulls out another bag of Skittles, which he promptly begins tucking into. ]]* 

EP: Oh yeah... see, there's one very specific reason I decided to sign up for Survive and Conquer this year...

CV: You mean besides it being a completely ridiculous, utterly absurd and needlessly over-the-top display dancing dangerously on the verge of draping itself in far too many dazzling decorations and bits of fluff for it to still be taken seriously by the purists?

EP: ...Granted, there is a certain.. "qué coño" ..about the whole set-up that speaks to me as a personality... but, no, bells and whistles and campanas y silbatos is not the mayor motivation for me sticking my name in the fluffy, rainbow-coloured hat.

CV: So.. what is?

EP: WELL.. you know how there's been this whole ongoing.. "conflict" between myself and the Sin City string-pullers over the last few.. forever..?

CV: Because you tried to feed some cerdo to a judío General Manager? Si.

EP: I DID NOT KNOW SHE WA- ...ANYWAY.. since then, it's become pretty apparent that whatever glass ceilings one usually finds themselves beneath in a brand new company have been taken out in my case and replaced with concrete and cement and stones and boulders and any other kind of perfectly-fitting dull, grey, emotionless, unbreakable substance you'd care to associate with a dynasty dealing in darkness and doom-mongering!

CV: You realise you constantly referring to those tiradores de cadena as "dull and emotionless" probably isn't helping your case either, right?

EP: Right.. but then, I'm not doing this for me.. I'm doing this for everyone who comes to sit in the stands of the Luxor and has to watch a morbid mob of malicious malcontents mooch around hawking shady deals and sob-stories, instead of the thrills and spills and "OH MY GEE, DID YOU SEE THAT, DUDE!? THAT S**T WAS KILLED!" their hard-earned and high-rollered money deserves!

Thing is - and I accept that this kinda ties in with your point - any actions or attempts at impact I try and make are always gonna be kinda.. muted.. in their effect and resonance if those impacts aren't being made on the biggest names beneath the brightest spotlights that this business has to offer.. and I think recent history has made it quite clear that Sabra and the rest of the marrionetch-a-sketchers have absolutely NO intention of risking me making any kind of meaningful mark on their main event scene!

SO.. what's a fluffy, rainbow-coloured squirrel to do?

Simple... take his revolution to a place where the stature of opponents is determined by the luck of the draw, rather than the whim of the wh-

C: WOAH WOAH woah woah woah...

*[[ Cristal leans forward and gently pats EP on the shoulder, a desperate attempt to stop him making a volatile situation even worse. She also strokes his "ears", which is.. weird... ]]* 

EP: What I'm saying is... Sabra may be able to stop me getting at her big money-makers on home soil, but in APW? At Survive and Conquer? All bets are off.. all skies are clear.. and any and all faces...

*[[ EP pours a handful of Skittles into his.. hand... tossing it gently as he looks down with a wry smile. ]]* 

EP: ...are ripe for the painting.

Can you IMAGINE what the reaction would be if a multiple-million-strong audience sees a man dressed like a polychrome polecat slap a legend like Doug E. Fresh around the face with a palmful of Skittles? You can't tell me something like that ain't gonna fall out back into SCW!

*[[ Chico smiles, though it quickly becomes tempered with a tinge of hesitation. ]]* 

CV: Sounds great... but, what happens if - and I'm just thinking out loud in an assumption on which I could not possibly have any inside-or-outside information given our current position on the time line - you don't get drawn in the same group as Doug? What happens to the Rainbowlution then?

EP: Well, I mean, it doesn't HAVE to be Doug E. Fresh specifically. It could be.. I dunno.. Paradox McSweeney, Doug's kinda-sorta friend and ally or whateva - not to mention the current Vegas Champion. Hell, it doesn't even have to be someone currently linked with SCW; if some proud, strong-style, muscle-bustin' cat like a Roscoe Shame or a Jack Benevolence finds themselves Tasting the Rainbow and winding up on the very worst side of an old-fashioned point-and-laugh.. you can bet they'll immediately start doing all they can to roll on down to Vegas and try and get them some revenge!

CV: So, basically.. your gran idea for Survive and Conquer is to humiliate, embarrass and just generally piss off as many prominent pro-wrestling people as possible.. so they'll come to SCW with their profiles and paychecks and contractual demands that all add up to management HAVING to put you in the main event where they try and pummel some payback into you?

*[[ EP spreads his arms out either side, that smirk still on his face as he looks his father dead in the eye. ]]* 

EP: Viva la madre-amante Rainbowlution, papá.

Only one will Survive.

Only one will Conquer.

But, mark my words.. when it's all said and done, EVERYBODY...

...is gonna Taste Dat Rainbow.

*[[ EP tilts his head back and drops the handful of Skittles theatrically into his mouth, as the scene fades to black for the final time. ]]*

[amyzing]

::The last run of Action Packed Wrestling, the first of the final two pay-per-views, Survive and Conquer and RassleMania are here. This weekend, Action Packed Wrestling will present Survive and Conquer. Wrestlers from APW and around the world have come to compete in this huge event.::

::As it would be with any pay-per-view, even one of the last, there is always events to hype them. This particular event is an autograph signing for the release of APW: 2013 A Year in Review on Blu-ray and DVD, one of the final home media products the company will ever release.::

::Sitting in the back of a limo, in a nice pants suit with an APW logo t-shirt underneath her open jacket, is a woman who managed to end her 2013 pretty well, “the Hong Kong Sensation” Amy Zing. Next to her, on the seat, is the APW North American Championship title belt. She looks at the title belt.::

“I honestly do not know why I even brought this with me. I suppose it is something of a force of habit, having it for so long. It may even be a rare moment of ego as I just want to show off the first title of my entire career one more time before the doors close, before the belt loses meaning, though it will never lose meaning or value to me. It is the first belt I ever won and no matter what happens to it, it will always be special to me.”

::With the back of her hand, Amy brushes the plate, designed to look like a part of the American flag. She slides the back of her hand over the strap and side plates, one bearing the flag of Mexico and the other with the flag of Canada on it. After a moment, she stops and looks away from the title belt.::

“Although it is probably a good thing that I did as I may have to turn it in. I doubt they will let me keep it, though I can’t imagine what they would do with it once APW closes down.”

::Amy sighs, sounding a bit forlorn at what she just said, as if she has known this day is coming, but didn’t seem to expect it to hit her so hard, or didn’t realize it was so close. Like knowing something is coming, but not wanting to deal with it, or hoping it can be avoided.::

“The final Survive and Conquer is finally here.”

::Amy smiles, shaking her head a little.::

“I am not a superstitious sort of person, but I do find it something of an unfortunate coincidence that within a year of my signing with Action Packed Wrestling, the company closes down, because the same thing happened in American Championship Wrestling. Now, granted, I know that it was not me, as I am not that important, or that arrogant to believe that I was somehow responsible for somehow causing the two to close, nor would I want to, but still, there is a coincidence there. I would blame someone else, if I was the type to do so, but I do not recall anyone else from ACW signing with APW around the same time I did or afterwards. I mean AC Smith was already here when I arrived, so I cannot blame him, or point out coincidence. Now if he had left for awhile and returned, then I could say it was coincidence, but I cannot. And it is an unfortunate situation all around as I was really enjoying being here, and not just because I happen to be a champion. Honestly though, I do wonder if my title reign is still going on, because I still have the championship as you can see and I do believe that if my reign is still ongoing then it would mean I have been the North American Champion for over five months, and I think that may have beaten Logan Alexander’s record as the longest reign. Having APW close down and not being actively wrestling here except for the occasional live event to fill out the required dates APW still has and independent bookings in Mexico and Japan is not how I would like to have accomplished that though. I fully intend to defend this championship one more time, like RassleMania, because I want to go out proving I did indeed deserve my reign, however long or short it was…and I am rambling.”

::Amy stops herself and closes her eyes. She takes a deep breath and slowly exhales to calm herself and regain her focus. She opens her eyes.::

“I can’t really imagine anyone here will miss my doing that; rambling on about nonsense or whatever. One would think I could be bothered to work on that and maybe fix it. I really don’t know why I haven’t. I mean I have had the time in between the occasional match and appearance. But no, it seems I could not be bothered. And honestly, I don’t even realize I am doing it half the time. It is just something I do without knowing why as I cannot see it being cute or endearing. I just sort of start talking and then it just becomes a ramble about something that may have nothing to do with the topic at hand and really barely seems to contain any brilliance or insight whatsoever…and I’m doing it again.”

::“The Hong Kong Sensation” makes a face, almost like a mix of looking embarrassed, or sheepish maybe, and pouting. She sighs deeply and manages to regain her composure. She seems to have recovered as she sounds rather excited, like her old self.::

“Regardless of what I say or do, Action Packed Wrestling will be closing down. As hard as it was to hear, and is still hard to accept, the time has come and the countdown to the final show RassleMania has begun. And it begins at Survive and Conquer.”

“Last year, at my first Survive and Conquer, I was in the opening match. Now here we are, a year later, and I am entering the Survive and Conquer match itself, and it is going to be just bloody awesome.”

“I am going to be in the ring with the likes of James Stall, AC Smith, and a bunch of other people, some I have heard of and never heard of, but most of who I have never been in the ring with, either as a team or as an opponent. If I survive that, I get to move on against more people who I may or may not been in the ring with, and again. And first we get battle royals, then a Hell in a Cell and then a ladder match and then the final four, the elite survivors that made it to the end get to wrestle a ladder match inside a Hell in a Cell, which I have no idea how that is going to work, but I really would love to be one of the four trying to compete in that one. I mean, honestly, how does something like that work? I know how a Hell in a Cell works and I know how a ladder match works, but I cannot picture how the two can be combined effectively to produce a match.”

::The last person to ever win the North American Championship pauses for a moment, looking as if she is in thought, trying to visualize a ladder match taking place underneath the Hell in a Cell cage. After a moment, she seems to come back, having ended trying to picture whatever that will look like.::

“However, as I look at the field in front of me, at the army of wrestlers all of whom want to win and be the last person to ever win Survive and Conquer, I realize that I honestly do not stand a bloody chance in hell of winning this thing.”

::Despite this declaration, Amy Zing appears to be smiling. She knows she is not even a dark horse or a long shot by any stretch of the imagination in this match, but she does not care. She is simply excited to be a part of the Survive and Conquer match.::

“I mean honestly, on the list of people I would assume people would bet on, that wrestling experts and analyst would pick to win this match, would be people like a James Stall, Aubrey J Parker, AC Smith, Stephan Raab, Aurora Jameson and so many others who have made their names in wrestling and probably been around longer than I have. None of them is going to stand up and state that “the Hong Kong Sensation” Amy Zing is their pick to win this, or going to say that they see me as the dark horse to win. I know my fans will be there, cheering me on, wanting to see me win, but I really do doubt anyone of them bet money on my victory or believes I am going all the way to the finish.”

“And you know what the strange part is, is that I am not upset by this or insulted, but used to it. I am the underdog, the dark horse, the person that people want to see win, but more often than not gains that victory. I tend to fight uphill battles a lot of the time. And I know this. I know what people say about me online, or on commentary or in promos. That is their opinion, and I can only try to prove differently. I may never change their minds, but I can try.”

“However, just because I do not have a shot in hell of winning this does not mean that I am going to walk out to that ring and try. It means the exact opposite. If there is only ONE person on the planet, aside from me, that thinks I may have a chance to win Survive and Conquer, then I am going to go out there and I am going to do everything I can to win.”

::Amy glances at the title belt, the North American Championship that has been in her possession since August of last year. So many times she tried to win it, tried to become a champion, not just in APW, but other places as well, only to be denied or fall short each and every time, until that one moment when she finally pulled off what is considered the biggest win of her career by becoming APW North American Champion, the moment people stopped mocking her for her Playboy spread and started calling her champion.::

“I do not accept the idea that I cannot do something. I do not accept that something is out of my reach. I will never give up, never surrender and never quit. I may fall and falter on occasion, as everyone does now and then, but I will always pick myself up and try again. True failure only happens when you give up.”

::She allows herself a rare, but amused looking smirk as she turns her attention from the belt.::

“However, this time, I do not get the chance to try again. This time is going to be the last Survive and Conquer ever. This is the last time anyone is ever going to be able climb that mountain of wrestlers and be the last person standing, the last person to win Survive and Conquer. It is one thing to beat out almost one hundred other wrestlers to win this show, but to be the last person would have to be bragging rights.”

::Amy glances up.::

“The last Survive and Conquer ever.”

::She lowers her head, looking down and leaning forward in her seat.::

“I am sure there is some great saying or quote from some famous writer or philosopher or someone along those lines, but I really cannot honestly think of one that just says everything ends without sounding so blunt.”

::It is rare to hear it in her voice, or see it in her eyes, but Amy Zing seems to be sad. This is the second time she has been part of a company around the time of its closing, and yet, she clearly looks like that doesn’t make it any easier to deal with, like it is not something she or anyone can just get used to.::

“And yet, as sad as that concept, that at some point in time, everything ends, it somehow makes it mean more. It is because things end that gives them value, makes them mean something or makes it special. There are those few items, like the Mona Lisa or the pyramids, the things that stand the test of time, that are wonders, but they mean so much more because the people that created them have passed on, and some of those things are only appreciated AFTER the creator has died, which is a little sad when you think about it, but it does not necessarily make the point I was trying to make any less valid, that APW is about to come to an end, but the time it was here meant so much to so many of us that got to be a part of it, regardless of how long we were here and to those out there that have been watching from day one.”

::Leaning back, she reaches over, taking the title in her hand and holding it to her chest. She sounds nostalgic, still a little sad, but there is a happiness in the memories she has of her time here.::

“When I think about all that I have accomplished, all that I have been through here, it makes me a little sad. There were lows…a lot of lows actually. But I had those few great moments of triumph; those moments when it all became worth it, like when I won the first title of my entire career, or finally beating a couple of people I managed to beat.”

“Maybe it was not the greatest run in the history of wrestling, but as personally, I would like to believe that it was a run worth having, worth experiencing. It may sound arrogant, but I would like to believe that, for the short time I was here in Action Packed Wrestling, I burned as brightly as I could. Maybe I was not the greatest North American Champion of all time, but I would like to think that while I held it, I held it with pride and honor. I may not have been the biggest draw in the company, but I hope a few people came to see me perform for them. I know I was not the biggest name or the most popular person here, but, if at least one person came to Meltdown or Asylum or Overdrive, or whatever pay-per-view I was on, and for one night, even just a few minutes, I made them feel something, I made them cheer, I made them feel excitement, if I gave even one person a show, the very best I could, then it was all worth it.”

“I feel truly blessed to have had the chance to Action Packed Wrestling and due what I love. I am honored that the fans here embraced me, even though I lost a lot, and really tended to ramble more than I should have, and, as I have heard, came off really way to nice and polite, I am still grateful to them. Survive and Conquer and RassleMania will be my goodbye to all the wonderful fans here and to those I have managed to call friends and even a few opponents I have had.”

::Amy wipes her eyes. She was not crying, but she was starting to tear up a bit. However, she shows no shame in having done so. “The Hong Kong Sensation” smiles.::

“I know it may be a little early to do this, and I am honestly not one hundred percent sure if RassleMania is happening, though I think it is as it is supposed to be the final show, but there is no one in Action Packed Wrestling I would rather face for my final match here than Robina Hood. There are a lot of people I would love to fight, but it just feels right to go out, to say goodbye to APW at RassleMania against the person who has been my toughest opponent here. Robina, what do you say to just one more match? After everything we have done to each other, been through, fought over, no one else feels right to face for my final APW match.”

::She is still smiling. It is a genuine happy and excited smile. She is like a kid on Christmas morning, although this kid is going to have to fight off about one hundred other people for presents, it is still like Christmas to her.::

“I may not have a shot in hell of winning Survive and Conquer, but I am not going down without a fight. This cycle is over, but a new one is going to begin. Like a phoenix, my time in Action Packed Wrestling is over. Sometime in the near future, I am going to rise again. I have no idea where or when, but I do know that I will rise again.”

“But before I go, before the fire of this phoenix here in Action Packed Wrestling burns out, I have a bit more time here left. I am going to make sure I go out with a blaze of glory.”

“There are nearly one hundred wrestlers in this match. I have no idea if I am going to take any with me on my way out, but I am going out there one more time, one of the final times here and I am going to kick someone’s head off. I am going to show as many of them, and everyone here, why I am simply Amy Zing.”

::The vehicle stops. Amy unbuckles her seatbelt and grabs the title, managing ot wrap it around her waist. The door opens just as she manages to get it into place and fix her close. Outside, there is a large crowd of people waiting for her to enter and start signing. A cardboard cut out of her in her wrestling gear with the North American Championship around her waist, with her arms out and a sign advertising the signing is in front of a long line of fans, waiting for her. She exits the limo to cheering and bends over, touching her toes, then starts to rise, spreading her arms outward to her sides, with her index finger extended out, and then bringing them together with her hands and index fingers touching; her signature pose. The crowd erupts into louder cheers. She pulls the title off her waist and holds it up as she walks towards the entrance, pointing to the fans gathered for the signing. The scene fades out as she enters the building.::

[A.C. Smith]

BIG APPLE ASSKICKER PRODUCTIONS PRESENTS:
A SALUTE TO CINEMA: ROCKY IV

Our scene opens today in a crowded boxing arena in Las Vegas, Nevada. Anyone who's anyone in Sin City is hobnobbing in floor seats, and the anticipation is building for the night's main event. Both sets of boxers and trainers are in the ring, and the ring announcer has opened his mouth to speak.

Announcer: “Tonight's special event features two great athletes. In the blue corner...”

We cut to one corner, where Stevie the Slovakian Slobberknocker is shadow-boxing in red, white, and blue boxing gear next to A.C. Smith, who is acting as his trainer. Somehow, an afro wig stays still on Stevie's head, which is constantly moving as he looks to pump up his fans in the crowd.

Announcer: “...the former heavyweight champion of the world, the Dancing Destroyer, the King of Sting, the Count of Monte Fisto...”

A.C.: “You think you have enough names?”

Stevie: “Be patient. We're almost done.”

Announcer: “...the Master of Disaster, the one and only, APOLLO CREED!!!”

The crowd cheers, and we cut to the other side of the ring, where an imposing figure in red trunks with a gold hammer and sickle stands unimpressed with the former champ's ring presence. He stands very tall, with a chest and arms so muscular that they might as well have been chiseled out of stone.

Announcer: “And in the red corner, gold medalist and undefeated world amateur champion...the Siberian Bull, IVAN DRAGO!!!”

The two fighters advance to the center of the ring to touch gloves.

Stevie: “It's time to go to school, son.”

Nothing from Drago.

Stevie: “Get your hands up. Do you need an interpreter?”

Drago: “You will lose.”

The two fighters finally touch gloves before going to their corners.

Stevie: “Back in a minute.”

The bell rings. Stevie begins dancing around the ring, throwing loose, easy jabs and looking extremely confident. Drago tries to counter, but is overagressive, and Stevie strikes back by moving the Russian against the ropes. However, that doesn't last very long, as Stevie gets thrown halfway across the ring to the gasps of the crowd.

Drago pounds away with several right hands, knocking Stevie back into the ropes where he is helpless to avoid more punishment. Finally, the bell rings, and that's the only thing saving Stevie from total annihilation, at least for the moment. He stumbles back to his corner looking dazed and confused as Smith tries to talk some sense into him.

A.C.: “Champ. Look. This fight's over. I gotta stop it.”

Stevie: “No, no.”

A.C.: “Look, you can't do no more out there!”

Stevie: “I'm here to fight.”

A.C.: “He's killing ya. I gotta stop this thing.”

Stevie: “I'm here to fight. Promise me you're not gonna stop this fight.”

A pause.

Stevie: “I want you to promise me you're not gonna stop this fight, no matter what. No matter what!”

A.C. is clutching a white towel, but he can't bring himself to throw it in as the bell rings to start the second round. Oblivious to the bruises on his face and the pangs of physical agony rushing through his body. Stevie staggers to the center of the ring, only to be met by several huge punches that lift him off his feet. It's as if he's asking to die in the ring, and Drago obliges, throwing the lethal punch that sends Stevie's lifeless body to the canvas.

A crowd rushes the ring to tend to Stevie, while the members of the media flock to Drago, who delivers several sentences in intimidating broken English.

Drago: “I cannot be defeated. I defeat all men. Soon, I defeat real champion.

“If he dies...he dies.”

Drago's eyes meet Smith's as our scene fades to black.

---

Several weeks later, A.C. Smith's Rocky Balboa has been flown to Russia to train for his Christmas Day matchup with Ivan Drago. Even his wife, Adrian, believes the match is a lost cause and that the world champion is risking his life by doing battle with the Russian, but Smith refuses to be talked out of the encounter with Drago and has left her behind in Philadelphia.

Siberia is as you'd expect it to be. One gets shivers just looking at the cold, mountainous terrain, one covered by a thick white layer of snow and some ice to boot. Smith's training accommodations are simple: A log cabin with only the bare essentials. The cabin is far removed from civilization, with no electricity and only a fireplace and wood stove available for heating. Smith and his house guests are in charge of cutting and transporting wood, and furthermore, instead of going to a state-of-the-art gym every day to work out, the man beloved by millions of fans around the world has taken up training in a nearby abandoned barn underneath his new trainer, portrayed by Bobby the Bavarian Man-Bitch.

Speaking of Bobby, he walks into Smith's bedroom late at night with a purpose, showing a somber look on his face as he opens his mouth to speak.

Bobby: “Hey, Champ.”

A.C.: “Hey.”

Bobby: “Can I come up?“

A.C.: “Yeah, sure.”

Bobby: “Some weather we're having here, huh?”

A.C.: Yeah, it's pretty rough.”

Bobby: “But it's perfect for what you gotta do. It's good. Toughen you up.”

A.C.: “I guess.”

Bobby: “I know you think you're gonna have to do everything by yourself, but you know I'll be with you.”

A.C.: “Yeah.”

Bobby: “Apollo was like my son. I raised him. And when he died, a part of me died. But now, you're the one. You're the one that's gonna keep his spirit alive. You're the one that's gonna make sure that he didn't die for nothing. Now, you're gonna have to go through hell. Worse than any nightmare you ever dreamed. But in the end, I know you'll be the one standing.”

A.C.: “I'll try.”

Bobby: “You know what you have to do. Do it. Do it.”

A.C.: “Thanks, Duke.”

The two exchange knowing looks, realizing that the boxer must do what is seemingly impossible: Defeat the unbeatable Ivan Drago and avenge Apollo Creed's untimely death. We fade to black on that exchange, and after a few seconds, two familiar words pop up in the middle of the screen in bold red text that jumps off the screen when juxtaposed with the black background.

DIRECTOR'S CUT

We fade back up, and instead of being on a movie set or a wrap party, we're in a New York cemetery. Bobby the Bavarian Man-Bitch and Stevie the Slovakian Slobberknocker are nowhere to be found. Instead, the only man we see in front of the camera is the Big Apple Asskicker, A.C. Smith, and he's sitting, bundled-up, on a bench underneath a bare elm tree that's felt the cruel touch of an Empire State winter.

Nobody knows the meaning of the word “cruel” more than Smith, who's seen staring at a headstone. The stone has the words “Smith Sr.” inscribed on it, and sits six feet above A.C.'s father, who passed away several weeks ago after long battles with pancreatic cancer and the New York State legal system. The old man had been convicted of several break-ins in the early-1980's and jailed, but he was pardoned mere hours before his death, due in large part to the efforts of his son.

A.C.'s face is emotionless, and the glare wrestling fans have come to know and love over the past 11-plus years is on full display. The Big Apple Asskicker seems to pay no mind to the camera for several moments, and when he finally opens his mouth to speak in front of an APW camera for the first time in three months, Smith speaks softly, and in a measured, gravelly tone of voice.

A.C.: “I've done my Salutes to Cinema several times before, for many different reasons. None, however, have resonated with me quite like this one. Some see 'Rocky IV' as cartoonish, others as some sort of gospel that helped end the Cold War. In my case, though, the story of a man going to great extremes with a motivation deeper than his profession or his ego fits perfectly with what I'm trying to accomplish over the next few weeks.

“Everyone in Survive and Conquer wants to win. Everyone thinks they'll be the one standing tall over 79 others later this month in Munich, and everyone thinks they have some kind of magic set of directions to get there.

“Everyone wants to win. But me? Not only do I know how to win. Not only do I have experience in this match to build off of. But I NEED to win, for reasons far greater than ANYONE else in this match may conjure up out of thin air.”

It's a bold proclamation, but Smith's demeanor remains matter-of-fact in nature. With the exception of a few rare word accentuations, the Big Apple Asskicker is as level-headed as humanly possible, and that doesn't change as he finally turns his shoulders and head toward the camera.

A.C.: “Over the next couple of days, you APW fans are going to hear a lot of nonsense. You're going to hear a lot of overly confident wrestlers saying they're as ready as can be for this challenge, that 2014's renewal of Survive and Conquer is destined to be theirs for the taking. I feel sorry for you, ladies and gentlemen, because it's all a bunch of crap.

“You want to talk about motivation for Survive and Conquer? You want to talk about overcoming adversity? Over the last couple of months, I fought the battle of my life, and it wasn't in a squared circle. It was in a court of law, where I threw everything but the kitchen sink at the legal system to prove to the world that my father, who I never really knew until he was dying, was an innocent man.

“It took EVERYTHING I had, and one can argue it took what little energy my father had left, too. But we did it, together. When that group of seven judges convened and ruled in favor of my dad by a 4-3 margin, it gave me the kind of rush that my six world championship victories COMBINED couldn't produce. Lawyers told me we couldn't do it, that it was a lost cause, but I knew we could do it, and we did.

“We celebrated Christmas together in his hospital room. We all knew the end was near, but nothing could stop Dad from smiling from ear to ear all day long. His life meant something now, and the last thing he told me before he passed away is something I'll remember for the rest of my life.”

Smith pauses. He takes a deep breath, drawing on every ounce of strength in his 6'8”, 275-pound body to avoid shedding tears in front of his fans.

A.C.: “He told me he was proud of me. He told me he loved me. And he told me how sorry he was that he wouldn't be around to see me wrestle at Survive and Conquer, because he knew how determined I'd be to win it.

“I tried to hold it together in that hospital room as best I could, but damn if someone wasn't chopping the onions down the hall on me.”

Another pause as Smith wipes the bottom of his eyes while letting out a chuckle.

A.C.: “I'm not like anyone else in Survive and Conquer. I don't need to use this event as some sort of launching pad to bigger and better things. I've had a career most men would kill for, and I wouldn't trade mine with anyone's in this field. I'm not here for some sort of payday. I've got my New York City penthouse, great friends, and everything materialistic I'll ever need in this life.

“I'm here because the man I'm here to visit wanted me to be here. He knew how much Action Packed Wrestling meant to me over the last two years, how much I lived, slept, and breathed this business. He knew I loved being a wrestler, and regardless of how much pain he was in, the thought of me being happy and doing one of the few things I have yet to accomplish in my life gave him a joy that made everything just a bit easier to take.

“I know exactly how hard winning Survive and Conquer is. I came in last year fresh off of winning the APW Xtreme Championship the previous month. I did reasonably well despite a tough draw. I lasted a decent amount of time, longer than a lot of wrestling's top stars at the time, and it took Rex Evans, who lasted more than an hour and a half, to eliminate me. To a lot of guys, such a performance would be respectable. Admirable, even. But if I was to replicate that sort of performance and outcome this year, after everything that's happened to me in the past 12 months, I'd consider it a huge, HUGE disappointment.”

Smith's intensity returns to his face, and we're instantly reminded of the no-nonsense competitor who provided APW with several of 2013's greatest moments.

A.C.: “I'm a completely different person. I developed a lasting bond with my father, who I never knew growing up. I fell in love with Roxanne, which has been nothing short of a total blessing. And in the ring, I've never been better.

“I carried my APW Xtreme Championship to every single APW event in 2013, and never once did I leave without it. Some experts regard it as the longest Xtreme title reign in history since I technically still hold it, and along the way, I dispatched some of APW's finest, guys like Michael Lively, Nathaniel Havok, Delikado, and Buckson Gooch. I was a semifinalist in Test for the Best, where it took one HELL of a competitor in C.J. Gates to beat me. At APW's final 2013 event, One Night In Hell, I held true to form, defeating both Leon Roberts and Mad Mumf as they tried everything they could think of to take my championship away, and most recently, I shared APW Champion of the Year honors with Terry Marvin, who held the Undisputed Championship for an insane amount of time.

“Facts are facts, and the truth is that I'm firing on all cylinders. When I roll into Munich, Germany, it's going to be with one mission and one mission only: To not just put forth a good showing at Survive and Conquer, but to win it. Not for glory, not for the money, and not for any sort of pride, but as a dedication to my father, who spent his last few months making me realize how great a man he really was.”

Smith looks at the headstone, nodding several times before gazing back at the camera.

A.C.: “It's not going to be easy, far from it. This year, the battle royal is split into four groups, and mine is stacked with talent. Just looking at the list is like reading a “Who's Who of Wrestling.” You've got guys like James Stall, Paradox McSweeney, Jack Benevolence, and Rex Evans, all of whom are legends and among the best in the world at this craft. Amy Zing, much as I despise her, was a champion here, as was Stefan Raab, and Roy Speede was a hell of a hand in APW for a long time, too.

“It's a stacked group, and I respect the talents of everyone in it. Believing otherwise would be the most stupid thing I could do. That said, respect and fear are two totally different things. I won't be running to the ring with a “deer in the headlights” look, far from it. Instead, I'll be attacking the challenges head-on, ready for whatever comes my way as 19 others in my group try to attack the giant bullseye on my back.

“I have no doubt that all 19 of my fellow Group One wrestlers want the same thing I want, which is to advance to the final four. But as I mentioned earlier, there's a difference between WANTING to win and NEEDING to win, one I will be taking full advantage of on January 26th. These wrestlers are all great in their own ways, all perfectly capable of winning this thing on their best days, but on January 26th, they'll be stepping in front of a damn TANK.”

Smith's nostrils flare, and a hint of red begins to rise to the surface of his cheeks as he continues.

A.C.: “This message goes out to everyone else in the other groups, too. There are plenty of names I recognize in the mix. Gordon Fury. Aubrey Parker. Adrien Specter. Delikado. Doug E. Fresh. Johnny Knuckles. Aurora Jansen. Jason Kash. The list goes on. Heed this warning: There's a lot more to this match than going in with a plan of attack and hoping it works.

“There is no motivation stronger than the one I have going into Survive and Conquer. None. Everyone here has their own personal reasons for entering, whether it be the money, the glory, or just the ability to call one's self a Survive and Conquer winner for the rest of his or her career. I've ALWAYS been more complex than that, though, and this time around, I go in with as much confidence as ever. Not because of how many people will be watching, and not because of what's at stake, but because I've been dealing with things most people could never imagine going through, and because jumping through so many hoops and doing something most said was impossible gave me a kind of strength you can't get from a gym or a protein shake.

“Rocky Balboa specifically asked for no money when he signed to fight Ivan Drago. He conceded the location and even the date, which wound up being Christmas, because the honor of his fallen comrade was much more important than anything else. When he knocked out the invincible Russian, he wasn't doing it for the winner's cut of a purse, or to win over any fans. He did it because he had to, because his friend, Apollo Creed, needed to be avenged the only way Rocky knew how.

“THAT'S why I re-enacted 'Rocky IV,' and that's PRECISELY why I will win Survive and Conquer. I could just as easily retire to my penthouse here in the Big Apple and count my money, but there's work left to be done. My dad knew that, and he used some of the last breaths he took on God's green Earth to give me all the motivation I could ever need. I've won six World titles, I've headlined cards from New York to New Delhi and everywhere in between, but knowing how much my dad wanted me to win Survive and Conquer, and how sad he was that he wouldn't get to see me try, made all that I've been lucky enough to accomplish in what's been one HELL of a career pale in comparison to what HASN'T been done yet.”

A.C. stands up, putting his hands in the open pockets of his thick winter jacket as he looks at the headstone one last time.

A.C.: “Dad, I'm gonna do this. The next time I come back here, it'll be after I outlast 79 others in winning Survive and Conquer, and it'll be because of everything you said to me the last time I saw you.

“You were a hell of a man, and I wish we had more time together. Now that you're gone, I can't do much for you, but everything I do over in Germany? Every punch, every kick, every slam, every time I throw someone over the top rope to the cheers of the greatest fans in professional wrestling? Those will all be for you.

“I hope like hell you'll be watching from somewhere.”

Unable to contain his emotions any longer, the Big Apple Asskicker covers his face as he exits the camera shot, presumably to block the view of tears that have begun to stream down his face. Once more, the camera zooms in on the headstone of Andrew Smith, Sr., and after a few seconds, we fade to black for a final time.

[Tritch]

Sure I am of this,
That you have only to endure
To conquer.

-Winston Churchill

---

What is reality?

I asked Siri. All she did was bring me to a Wikipedia page. Stupid bitch.

But honestly, what is it? Is it a tangible thing? Is there really a set meaning? The page talked about actualization and existence. But if something exists to me, who are you to tell me it isn’t reality?

My point is… fuck you. I do what I want.

Warren Zevon’s smash hit blasts into my eardrums, the smell of burnt rubber and tobacco smoke flooding my Challenger. A cigarette pressed between my lips, I pound the palm of my hand on the outside door, pointing at women as I pass.

“You hear him howlin’ around your kitchen door, you better not let him in,” I pull my sunglasses down to the tip of my nose, eyeballing a particularly voluptuous street rat as I take a drag of my cigarette. “Little old lady got mutilated late last night. Werewolves of London again.”

Flicking the cigarette out the window, I pull to a stop, and start pounding on my steering wheel, bobbing my head, as the chorus hits, cranking the volume as loud as it will go.

“Ahoooo-“ the light turns green, and I fiddle around in the passenger seat, grabbing my flask and taking a big swig. As the car in front of me turns out of my way, I slam my foot down on the gas, tilting my head back as I scream. “AHOOOOOOO!”

The wind flies through my hair, and ruffles the fur on my coat. I glance back at the road, not even sure where I am any more. People still stare at me as I pass them by. How fast am I going?

“Ahooooo, Werewolves of London!” I start laughing, throwing my head back on the rest again. Something interrupts my song though. What is that? A horn? I glance back down, and a crowd of pedestrians are in the middle of the street, trying to cross. “AHHOO-FUCK!”

Slamming on the brakes, my flask flies onto the floor. Smoke instantly goes everywhere, as my wheels screech to a halt. Screams echo out over Zevon’s voice. The Challenger skids to a stop, and I sit there for a moment, hands clenched tightly around the wheel. I guess the light turned red?

“JACK!” I quickly unbuckle my seatbelt, lunging over the center console to feel around on the floor. There she is. Suddenly my door opens. “Can I help you?”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” A man in a powder blue polo is standing there, checking to make sure I was all right or some shit. Fuck ‘im. I unscrew the top, taking another swig. “Somebody call the cops!”

Come again for big fudge?

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, no need for police. Nobody was hurt, right?” The man turns, looking at me with disgust as I step out of the car. He eyes me from the feet up, his expression not changing. He clearly knows nothing of fashion. Flip-flops, black skin-tight jeans, and this gorgeous white fur coat? Fuck him.

“No, but-“ I swing a hard punch right into his nose, a gasp echoes throughout the crowd, and I turn with a grin, bending for an exaggerated bow as the man falls to a knee cupping his face.

“Now someone has been hurt, and the police are welcome! I say good day,” without hesitation, I spin in a circle and hop back into my car. The engine roars, and I step on the gas a few times to disperse the crowd, reaching for their cell phones. With the press of a button, Warren Zevon’s voice echoes again and I hang my head out the window just as I slam my foot on the gas. “AHHHOOOOOOO!”

---

January 20th, 2014 – The Darkhorse Gentlemen’s Club; Las Vegas, Nevada

A gaggle of men and women in suits stand around confusedly, just at the end of a short red carpet. They murmur to each other, none exactly sure why they are there, at what appears to be a strip club. The door suddenly swings open, and they all quiet down and turn towards the darkened entrance. A figure with his hand raised to block out the light takes two steps forward.

“God damn it’s bright out, why don’t you all join me inside where it’s more appropriately lit?” They recognize his voice, but are still unsure of whom they speak to. Glancing between each other in confusion, no one steps forward. “Ah! Pardon me, where are my manners?”

He drops his arm, clapping his hands together and stepping out from the shadows to reveal a snarky grin. “It’s Rex Evans, ladies and gentlebitches! Now get the fuck inside, y’ bunch of assclowns,” he chuckles, a loud exaggerated laugh, bending over and clapping as he laughs and ushers the businesspersons into the building.

With a loud thud, the door slams shut and the scenery is completely different. The only thing that remains the same is the sheer confusion plastering the crowd’s faces. Rex turns, and holds out his arms at his sides, palms facing up.

“Everybody, I’d like to welcome you all to my new headquarters, Misfit Mabel’s. What do you guys think?” He looks between them, looking for some kind of affirmation but receiving none. “Oh okay, fine. You guys are going to play hard to get; I get it. Why don’t you all take a seat? Destinee is just pushing the tables together for us. Jewels? Valentine? Why don’t you ladies see what everybody would like to drink?”

Rex walks past the members of the crowd, making neither eye contact nor discussion with anyone. He talks to a redhead behind the bar, and she produces a large bottle of Jack Daniels and pours a little bit too much into a glass of ice. As the businesspersons casually, and still very confusedly, take their seats, two barely clothed women come out from around the bar with pads of paper.

Rex, straw in his mouth, spins around and begins walking to the “head of the table,” the empty side with a bigger velvet chair. He spins and falls into it nonchalantly and it almost engulfs him like a throne. He looks around, flashing his eyes from side to side, all the while sipping his Jack & Coke very hurriedly, as each and every one of them asks for something non-alcoholic. He rolls his eyes.

“So! As I’m sure you all know, this used to be a prominent gentlemen’s club called The Darkhorse, but years ago it became a failing business. Until two weeks back; I purchased the building and transformed it into… drumroll,” Rex pauses, turning his ear to the table and waiting… “Where’s my fucking drumroll?”

After another moment, someone finally drums his fingers on the table to Rex’s delight. “Misfit Mabels! A bar in the morning, a nightclub with strippers at night. Fucking genius!”

The people around the table exchange the look that now seems to be the only action they are capable of. Finally, one young looking man with a blue tie raises his hand and begins to speak, but Rex immediately cuts him off.

“Why raise your hand if you’re just going to talk before I call on you?” Rex flips his fingers around in the air, and within seconds Valentine, assuming that’s her name given the heart shaped stickers over her nipples, produces another Jack & Coke for her new boss.

“My apologies, Mr. Evans. And I don’t mean to be rude, but what does this strip club have to do with us?” Rex stares at him, chewing on the straw from his last drink, without blinking, without looking away, without so much as moving a muscle besides his jaw.

“Absolutely nothing, I simply wanted your opinion,” Rex starts laughing, slamming his hands on the table. “Jesus CHRIST you guys are a wound up group, huh?”

He nudges the gentleman closest to him, probably a little too hard, before relaxing back into his chair.

“Fuck, man. Can’t a guy get a little quality assurance?” Rex shakes his head, throwing the used straw across the room. He then raises his voice, startling some of the people around the table. “DECEMBER! Why don’t you get on stage and show our guests some moves?”

The women exchange looks again, this time in disgust instead of confusion, one then raises her hand and this time she knows to wait until called upon.

“Mr. Evans, I’m sure you’re a busy man, so why don’t we get this meeting underway? My assistant said you had some sort of pitch?” She questions, and Rex excitedly jumps to his feet, clapping his hands together again.

“YES! But Martha, we should save the baseball for later and get down to business you sly devil, who wants to know why I gathered you here today?” Rex sits back down, moving to the edge of his seat and rapidly tapping his fingers on the tabletop.

“My name isn’t Martha,” the woman mutters beneath her breath.

“You lot run some of the most important companies in Las Vegas, and I wanted to give you all an equal opportunity at purchasing the rights to my product, so I thought- what better way to do that than by collecting you all and bringing you right here to my headquarters, am I right?” Rex is still very excited, but his overdone smile almost looks feigned. The people around the table aren’t sure what to think, so they just listen, attentively.

“I’m going to throw some numbers at you. 3. 6. 17. 19. 81. 93. 100. Anybody know what these mean?” A couple of the men and women around the table had been jotting down the numbers. For the first time they all seem interested, except Not-Martha, she still seems upset. He let’s them stir for a moment, averting his attention to the upside-down woman on stage.

“Excuse me, Mr. Evans-” the man sitting closest to Rex reaches out and places his hand on Rex’s arm. He immediately shoots up, staring down at the man with hate in his eyes.

“I… do not like to be touched,” the man nods rapidly, as Rex very aggressively adjusts his suit jacket before sitting back down. “I’m tired of waiting, I’ll tell you what they mean.

“Three, the place I came in during the 2013 Survive and Conquer match during my rookie year. Six, the number of people I threw over the top rope during said match. Seventeen, the number I entered the match at. Nineteen, the maximum number of people I can, and probably will, throw over the top rope this year. Eighty-one, the amount of people I outlasted during the course of last year’s royal. Ninety-three, the number of minutes I was in the ring BEFORE the cage lowered.

“And lastly, one hundred,” then Rex pauses, leaning forward and very calmly planting his palms on the table. He grins, that evil, shit-eating grin he adopted from his former nemesis, glancing from person to person, each intently listening. “The amount of ribs I intend on snapping in half during the course of the FINAL… Survive and Conquer match.”

Rex leans back, letting the information sink in. Not-Martha is the first to speak.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Evans, but what exactly is your product?” Her tone is filled with condescendence. Rex picks up on this. He drops his head, visibly biting his tongue, before muttering…

“Are you fucking mental?” He jumps up, not just to his feet, but to the top of the tables. He thrusts his arms to his sides, grinning again, surprisingly to the group’s delight. “Rex fucking Evans is the product, Not-Martha. I am selling you the 2014 Survivor, the 2014 Conqueror, the FINAL Survive and Conquer Winner, the former CRW Heavyweight Champion, the future SCW Global Champion, the most talked about man in professional wrestling, the Code Red Con, the Loose Cannon…”

As he rambles on, he slowly saunters across the tables, making eye contact with each of the businesspersons on his way toward Not-Martha, like a good and proper salesman. Until at last he reaches her, and thrusts his hand down to grab onto her chin, slowly pulling her up to him.

“The most feared man in professional wrestling, the most feared man behind bars, the only person to break Brandon Garcia, a man marked for death yet still walking,” he grins at her, and now the other patrons start to look worried. A tear slides down her cheek.

“Please, I have children-” Rex let’s out an audible growl before letting her go and flipping his hands at his sides.

“I do not like to be touched, literally OR metaphorically,” he spins around to look her in the eyes and points viciously toward the door. “Bleeding hearts outside!”

Rex pauses in the middle of his trek back to the throne, glancing first at December as she continues her unwatched routine on the pole, before clamping his eyes shut and pounding on his forehead, running his free hand through his hair and gripping tightly. 

He whispers, “I have always survived. I have always endured. I will conquer,” and then yells… “GET THE FUCK OUT, NOW!”

It startles everybody, and they very quickly gather their things and charge out of the building, leaving Evans alone with his naked women.

-alone with his thoughts.

---

[This video was uploaded to the Survive & Conquer homepage via YouTube.]

A poor quality video feed snaps to life from black after a few seconds of buffering. The image of a shirtless torso is hunched over the lens, messing with something behind the camera. After a few seconds the image jumps to reveal the shirtless figure of Rex Evans, a white and grey fur coat barely clinging to his shoulders as he rests casually in a leather desk chair.

His hand, elbow resting on the arm of the chair, presses into his cheek as he stares into the lens. He says nothing, and makes no movement. The image then cuts again, this time the chair is empty and Evans can be seen distantly in the background rummaging around in a refrigerator. It jumps another time; Rex is back in the chair but positioned sideways as he takes a long pull from a half empty bottle of Jack Daniels.

After another jump, the bottle is in clear view resting on the desk beneath the webcam, and Rex’s face is right in front of the viewfinder, elbows placed firmly on the desk with his chin resting in his palms. There are dark circles around his eyes, and his hair is a mess, but the ever-present shit-eating grin sits stubbornly on his lips.

“Can you hear me?” He laughs, moving backward quickly to swipe the Jack off the desk and pushing the wheeled chair backwards to spin around a couple of times. As it comes to a stop, he kicks back the bottle for another lengthy swig. “Can you fucking hear me, Survivors? Conquerors?”

His words are slow, packed with a tinge of anger and mockery. He laughs again, trailing off to a silent chuckle as he averts his line of sight to the lens again. He suddenly jolts to his feet, knocking the chair over as he does, and screams “DO YOU KNOW WHO I AM?”

The image immediately cuts to Rex’s face, almost pressed against the lens, just as he yells, “DO YOU KNOW WHO THE FUCK I AM?” before splicing to a new feed of Rex spinning in the chair, the bottle in one hand, tipped back at his lips, and the other hand outstretched forward with his middle finger sticking up. It jumps again to Rex sitting on the floor next to the tipped over chair, open bottle of Jack sitting between his pretzel-legs, as he laughs almost maniacally.

The image settles on a shot of Rex to the left of the screen, leaning against a wall with his knees pulled in, one elbow sat upon his knee with fingers shoved deep into his hair.

“I’m Rex Evans. And yes, cough Shawn Alexander Cage cough, if you don’t know who I am you’re fucking stupid,” he sits there, without speaking, for a painfully long moment before picking up the liquor and polishing it off.

“Terry Marvin,” he states in a plain tone, and then the image cuts again to Rex standing on the opposite side of the room, his jacket slung far down his back, as he stares at the ceiling, shaking his arms violently, screaming “TERRY FUCKING MARVIN” before the image cuts immediately back to Rex leaning against the wall.

“Last year Terry Marvin had my number. But my number was seventeen; his number was fifty something. I wrestled for close to three fucking hours. I threw six people out of the ring. Match that, Terry fucking Marvin.”

A pause, as Rex lifts them empty bottle above his mouth, trying to scavenge some tiny, non-existent droplet from the bottom of the barrel. He throws the bottle angrily toward the kitchen, glass smacking against a wooden door and shattering to pieces.

“So he beat me. Big fucking deal. I still accomplished more on that night than he’s done in three fucking Survive & Conquer matches. I made my name. I sparked my career. How long has he been in this industry? And how long did it take for everyone to know his name? This is the second year of my career.” A jump cut to a close up as he repeats very clearly and separated “SECOND… YEAR!” before returning.

“I was the man to beat in that ring last year. Everybody knows it. Jeff fucking knows it. Why do you think he split the rumble up this year? Four groups? What the fuck is that? He’s trying to give everybody else a fair chance against me because everybody knows that NOBODY can do what I did,” another cut to Rex standing on his chair, squatting down and holding onto the arms, “NO FUCKING BODY.”

The camera lingers there as the chair starts to shake and rotate slightly, but Rex’s cold eyes stay trained on the lens. The image changes again, and Rex is back at the fridge, muttering to himself with the occasionally audible profanity interspersed. It cuts back to the chair, and Rex is lying sideways in it, his legs draping over one arm, his head over the other, which is quite the sight for a man who is 6’5. He has a six-pack of beer cans resting on his chest, with one cracked open and chugging. He crushes the can and throws it at the kitchen, before looking back at the camera.

“But Jeff fucked up. He tried to give everybody a level playing field, but then he put me in the first group of the night. By the time the final four comes around, I’ll be the best rested. I’ll be 100% again. They won’t stand a chance.” The image jumps to Rex standing to the left of the chair, the beers dangling from his fingers with another open one in his free hand, overflowing with foam.

“Of course I’m going to the finals, who the fuck is going beat me? James Stall? A.C. Smith?” Rex chugs the beer and throws it over his shoulder at the kitchen as the scene changes again, Rex is on the opposite side of the chair, but now he has it in his hands. “PARADOX? JACK FUCKING BENEVOLENCE?”

He hurls the chair at the kitchen with a thunderous growl, his body heaving up and down as he breathes. “ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?”

Cutting again, the remaining four beers are now sitting where the chair was, and Rex is above them doing push ups as he yells. “Jack fucking Benevolence can suck my dick. He hasn’t been relevant in months. He’s gone soft.” He mutters something under his breath before the image changes again. Rex is now pacing in a circle around the beers, the third in his hand unopened.

“I’m not going to drone on and on about who can’t beat me because you should already fucking know that. No. That’s not what this is about,” he stops moving.

Just stands there. Staring off camera, swaying ever so slightly.

Jump cut to Rex in the doorway of the kitchen as he stabs a knife into the can, quickly pulling it out and throwing back his head. The beer is gone in three seconds and he beats on his chest.

“REX. FUCKING. EVANS.”

The chair is back, and Rex sits very calmly, the grin having returned to his lips. His left leg is crossed over his right knee, and one hand is outstretched to tap his fingers on the desk at an increasing speed.

“I lost last year. That’s what people will focus on,” he adopts a mocking tone. “Oh, Rex Evans, he’s not so tough. He’s not so bad. He lost last year, look at him! What’s he done since CRW closed? He’s not even in jail any more! Who cares about him, right?”

He abruptly raises his arm high in the air, slamming his fist onto the desk hard, causing the webcam to crash down onto the table. The image returns with Rex in the middle of the room, his back turned to us, with two beer cans in either hand stretched high above his head, pouring into his mouth. As he finishes them, letting out a primal scream and throwing the cans into the kitchen, the screen cuts back to Rex in the chair, fingers tapping.

“Wrong. You should care about me. I lost last year because my head was filled with fanciful ideas of a grandiose future that would never fucking exist. Could never fucking exist. Because life isn’t a goddamn fairy tale,” and in a sarcastic, drawn out tone… “Brother.”

“I lost last year because I wanted to win for other people. I wanted a million dollars so I could pay off the medical bills of some chump kid who got what was coming to him. I wanted to win so I could make Code Red Wrestling a better company, with the best competition. I wanted to win to prove myself. Well guess what?”

Jump cut to Rex nearly pressing his face against the lens again, “guess fucking what?” before the image returns.

“That’s bullshit. Because I AM the best competition, I HAVE proved myself.”

He stares at the lens, jaw tensed, an uneasy gaze. He slowly leans in, tapping his fingers faster than ever. This time the image doesn’t cut, but Rex quietly stands, turning around, throwing his arms up at his sides. He walks a few steps and then bends down to grab the final beer. Now the image cuts, Rex is in the chair, perfectly centered in front of the camera with the beer, opened, on the desk in front of him. He reaches out, grabbing the computer and pulling himself towards it, slowly getting closer as he speaks in a venomous tone, spit flying.

“I’m going to fly into Germany. I’m going to drink a lot of fucking whiskey. I’m going to waste a lot of fucking money. And then I’m going to break a lot of fucking people’s ribs. Because I am the best in this fucking business. Because I am a fucking survivor. Because I am a FUCKING CONQUEROR!”

The video cuts again as Rex lets out another battle cry, hoisting the chair high over his head and slamming it repeatedly onto the floor until it splinters apart.

Then there’s one last cut, the door in the background is swung open, and Rex is chugging the final beer. As he finishes it, he simply drops it to the floor and walks out of the room, slamming the door shut viciously behind him. The video lingers for a second, slowly fading to black, and then it ends.

[foremole]

Lionel glanced at the paper within his hand.

Sir Lionel de Montbar: What is this sorcery? This many combatants in a single battle? Surely the Gladiator arena is unable to sustain such a massive battle.

Lionel placed the paper down and glanced in the mirror in his locker room, the light buzzing above his head. It had been a while since he has put himself in a situation where nobody cared for him, where he was unknown. Eighty competitors spread into four different groups, setting up twenty people for each battle. Each and every one of them all hoping for victory, it is going to be brutal, and chaotic. Lionel stared at his reflection, his armor glinting in the light. He stared into his own eyes, the eyes of a warrior from long ago, the survivor of crusades on Jerusalem, sieges on English castles by the French, and campaigns to faraway places.

Lionel stood up, brushed some dust from his shoulder pad and grabbed his items before leaving his locker room. It would be a long distance to get to where this battle was going to take place. It would give him time to meditate prior to the battle. With such overwhelming odds, it wasn’t likely that Lionel would come out the victor; however he still had to try.

His foes were all peasants; they knew nothing of honor, nothing of keeping themselves pious enough to survive the brutal onslaught of the masses. Lionel walked to the congregation location of the weird hollow metal horse they called a “bus”. Such a weird creature, It would transport a person only if they fed it a weird green paper, however Lionel got lucky and was given a weird tablet that wasn’t stone, and wasn’t metal but was a lot more smooth and resilient than wood. He pressed it against the belly of the beast and entered its hollowed out body. Sitting on one of the carved out chairs, he began to think about the match that was coming to fruition before his eyes.

A massive match, eighty competitors, anything can happen. Some were previous champions in their own gladiatorial games, and some were just trying to get their own name on the recognized by the peasants in this strange land. Some were very popular gladiators that the peasants almost worshiped and were going to destroy everyone in the match with ease. They were used to massive competitions such as this. Lionel wasn’t trained as they were, he was trained in true combat, meant to kill and maim his opponents, not just injure them. He didn’t fit in this group of competitors at all, they weren’t trained like him. Hell, if they were thrown into a real gladiator arena with random weapons along with Sir Lionel de Montbar, things would be different, and then the best man will win, through skill or by luck, someone would win that battle to the death. And Lionel would be that victor.

But this isn’t a battle to the death; no it is a different type of games. It isn’t very clear as to what the actual reward for winning the gladiatorial games is, but the fight for the relic is a journey within its own rights. Having a unique name too, Survive and Conquer, survive the foes onslaughts, and a true warrior can conquer anything. Lionel thinks back on some events he had taken in before.

There was the full roster battle royal, anything goes, blood, destruction, carnage, broken bodies, everywhere, booze spilled along the floor, a broken statue, tons of seats crushed and smashed in the massacre that ensued. And yet, when the dust finally cleared, there was a single victor, his hand held high in the air, and the first owner of the most prestigious relic the federation had to give. Even though that was about two years ago, the experience gained in those types of battles never dies, they live inside the warrior, and they strengthen him to greater feats of even greater strength.

Lionel thought about his past wars, a lot different than the battles in this strange weird land. He thought about the crusade he once was in on Jerusalem. It wasn’t like the battles today, no, it was meant for total dismemberment and not just wearing one down. Death was the ultimate goal, not just exhaustion. Lionel’s eyes glossed over as he recalled his memory of the crusade.



ℐℯℜùşåℓℯℳ 1099 AD



Lionel wiped sweat from his brow with the back of his gauntlet. The gauntlet was blackened from the heat and the fire they were currently using to besiege the city of Jerusalem. His trebuchet was wreaking havoc upon the city. He stretched the twine back again, pulling the thong down to the ground to load yet another boulder covered in a thick resin from the few rare trees in the land. Using as much strength as he could, Lionel pushed the boulder into the thong with the aid of his best friend and mentor Sir Galager Robin. Robin wiped his hands off on his pants to try and remove the resin from them. He turned towards Lionel and grimaced.

Sir Galager Robin: Oi, Lionel, this reminds me of that one Norse girl I slept with that one time. Except she was a lot harder to get rid of then this stupid tree sap, hahaha.

Sir Galager Robin and Sir Lionel de Montbar stood back from the trebuchet as the third member of their group pressed a torch against the sap covered boulder which instantly ignited.

Sir Galager Robin: She was even more flammable than this stuff too! Hahahaha.

The third member pressed the lever which pulled on the pulleys of their trebuchet which sent the boulder flying overhead and into the city with a thundering crash. All that can be seen over the walls of the city was fire which began blazing within the city. Lionel sighed as he began pulling on the twine again, bringing the thong back down to the ground. They pushed another resin covered boulder into the pouch, grunting against the heavy stone. Lionel sighed and sat down to regain his breath from the constant effort put into laying a siege onto the city. He looked up at Galager who sat down next to him.

Sir Lionel de Montbar: I was wondering Galager. When we finally take the city, then what? Do we just get to go home, all of our sins gone, or do we have to stay and defend this city forever?

Sir Galager Robin: I am not sure Lionel, but I do know one thing, that priest who got us to join this war won’t be anywhere near the front lines, and what sort of sin has he committed to be here with all of us, sweating and burning underneath this sun? Covered in god knows what type of shit, and eating even worse things. Lionel, I know our sins will be paid for, and I plan on returning to England and becoming an honest farmer.

Sir Lionel de Montbar: Hah, I know that is a lie right there Galager, there is nothing honest about you, and I know you love fighting too much.

Sir Galager Robin: You caught me there Lionel. There are three things that I love more than anything else. Booze, battle, and babes. And in any combination too! Hahaha.

Lionel grimaced at the thought of his mentor fending on foes with one hand, chugging ale in the other, and pleasing a woman below.

Sir Lionel de Montbar: That is a gruesome thought Galager. Battle comes naturally, and we will be in the city soon enough, and there you will get enough battle to fulfill one hundred lifetimes Galager.

Sir Galager Robin: I know this Lionel; however you must remember that we aren’t immortal just because we are fighting for God. We still bleed, and we can still die just like the heretics inside the city. Sure we are all human, we both bleed, and the only difference between us is where we were born Lionel. Remember this, because one day it won’t matter that you are a part of the English army today, what will matter is what you gain from today. A fresh slate is enough to drive any man to do anything commanded. We all want to go to that castle in the sky, and if it means we destroy everyone inside that city right in front of us, so be it. I have done some things in my life I am not proud of Lionel, and I will be damned if I won’t be able to clear it here by raiding this city.

Lionel stood up as their third member lit the boulder with the torch and sent it crashing into the city walls, stone crumbling on the ground. Lionel glanced around the battlefield. Many different siege equipment rained death down into the city and trying to pierce the city’s walls. Fire burned within the city as bells and alarms rang out. People in the city were dying with each well placed boulder, and the wall became a little weaker and weaker with each blow. There were attempts to bash through the city’s gates with rams, but each time the ram got in position, the ram and the people using it would get covered in hot oil which would kill the soldiers almost instantly. Lionel shrugged and began to load yet another boulder into the trebuchet.

. . .

Lionel pulled his sword from his sheathe, the hole in the city’s wall large enough for the entirety of the crusaders to enter. Sir Galager Robin stood side by side with Lionel, their shields and their swords at attention. The men in front of them pushed into the city, corpses of both Muslims and Christians littered the ground and were trampled into the Earth. Galager rapped Lionel’s shoulder with the butt of his blade. Galager yelled at the top of his voice to be heard over the din of the battle, the screams of the dying, and the blood curling war cries from both sides.

Sir Galager Robin: Remember Lionel; just think of that woman with the long legs back home! Remember what I told you in the last skirmish Lionel! A man who knows how to wield his sword on the battlefield knows how to wield it in the bedroom! I plan to be called Uncle Robin before I die! I already know I have about twenty brats that are ready to call you Uncle Montbar in twenty different languages too! Hahaha! To Battle Lionel, we will send them to death’s gates over and over and over again! CHARGE!

Sir Galager charged into the clearing with Lionel right by his side. Lionel blocked a thrown spear with his shield by raising it just in the nick of time. Swinging his sword he slew the owner of that spear before charging deeper into the city following his mentor. Lionel parried a sword thrust with his own sword before kicking the man in the gut and piercing him in the stomach with his blade. Sir Galager Robin was risking everything trying to flank their foe to give their allies more of a breach within the wall. Lionel killed another warrior that couldn’t have been more than fifteen years old after he failed to stab him with a spear. It was kill or be killed, and there couldn’t be any mercy for someone who would take up arms against a true knight.

Sir Lionel de Montbar turned around and saw the priest charge forward on a white horse, trying to raise the moral of the Christians charging into the city. He had a banner with the Papal State’s signet on it. It had a sharpened end on the reverse side pointed into a lance tip. The priest brought up speed and stabbed one of the heretics in the chest, bursting him open. One of the Muslims stabbed the priest in the side with a spear and dragged him off the horse. The once white horse was now crimson as it whinnied and trampled back into the Christian forces before retreating out of sight.

Sir Lionel de Montbar turned towards the enemy forces and continued fighting onwards.



Present Day



Lionel snapped out of his memory when the hollow animal came to a halt. Lionel stood up, grabbed his items and proceeded into the massive building bustling with a ton of peasants. Lionel walked towards a woman who was standing looking at some sort of paper.

Sir Lionel de Montbar: Excuse me madam, but perhaps can you aid me in locating my destination for me?

The woman turned and eyed the knight up and down with weary eyes.

Woman: Um, I don’t work here; you should ask someone who knows where everything is.

Sir Lionel de Montbar: Alright, where can I find someone who works here?

The woman pointed towards a table looking thing with a man standing behind it. Lionel approached the man who looked bored and didn’t even look up from whatever he was reading.

Assistant: Can I help you?

Sir Lionel de Montbar: Can you aid me in finding my destination?

Assistant: Sure… can I see your flight ticket?

Sir Lionel handed the man a bunch of papers that he was given by an aid from his federation prior to this event. The man looked at the items carefully before handing them back.

Assistant: You will be on flight 297; your gate number is 13. It is over that way.

The man never once looked up and Lionel marched off in that direction. He found a line full of peasants and decided he didn’t want to wait behind them because of his status as a knight. He marched toward the front until a dark skinned woman stopped him.

Woman: What do you think you are doing? Get to the back of the line!

Sir Lionel de Montbar: I am a knight, I shouldn’t be waiting behind peasants, let me through.

Woman: No, you get in the back of the line like everyone else. I don’t care who you are, I don’t care if you are the president of the United States, get to the back of the line.

Lionel sheepishly goes to the back of the line, not wanting to draw any attention to him. Eventually he reaches the front of the line and the woman just stares at him, not realizing the first time he was wearing full plate armor.

Woman: Really sir? Take off your suit.

Sir Lionel de Montbar: I shall not. This is my armor; I am not going to take off my only defense. I am unable to take my weapon along with me anywhere anyways, but my armor is my own!

Woman: You need to take the armor off or we can’t let you through sir. Please don’t make this harder for us than it already is sir.

Sir Lionel de Montbar: I am an English knight madam; it is dishonourable to request me take my armor off.

Woman: Alright sir, you don’t have to take it off, but then you can’t go through. Next!

Lionel stands still for a few seconds before finally taking off his armor and placing it onto a table. The table begins moving much to Lionel’s astonishment. He watches the sorcery take place as it moves underneath a cave like thing. Lionel goes to try and save his armor and the woman stares at him.

Woman: Sir… are you on drugs? Go through the metal detector and you can get your stuff on the other side.

Sir Lionel de Montbar: A metal detector? There is a dog here? How am I supposed to go through a dog?

Woman: Sir… I am losing my patience, we should search you but it has been a long day… please step that way and get your stuff.

Lionel walks through a weirdly crafted doorway and sees his armor sitting there. He picks it up, straps it all back on and picks up his items. He walks towards Gate thirteen and waits with a lot of the peasants sitting around. Finally they begin lining up and they board a hollowed out dragon…

…

Lionel entered his chamber and placed his belongings onto it. He pulled the material away from the window and looked at the gladiatorial arena sitting across from his chamber. Lionel sat down on the bed and began to take his armor off. He thought about his federation across the sea. Flying on the hollow dragon was not a fun experience, the speed of the beast and being so high in the air did not sit well in Lionel’s stomach, and being in a land he once was in during conquest long ago. Germany, home to the Great Holy Roman Empire, it was a land full of warrior blood, and these peasants weren’t true warriors, but they had warrior blood in their heritage.

Most of the warriors of the Holy Roman Empire were parts of the Germanic tribes that were assimilated into their ranks. Of course they were ruthless warriors, but they were part of the main forces that took event in the crusades. Being in this land, which is hosting a major event featuring over ninety different combatants in multiple different matches; it was as if the medieval ages had returned. Blood will be spilled in the ring, and bodies will be shattered and broken beyond recognition. Just in Lionel’s match alone, there are names that are spoken even here in the Germanic lands with awe. Lionel was a knight out of time, and a knight out of his land. He didn’t belong here in Germany, and he certainly didn’t belong in this time.

Lionel began thinking about all the men he had fought, in wars, and in the gladiatorial games. Men of all types, sizes, abilities, they were all skilled in some way with weapons or just by talent. He had beaten so many, and lost very few, but he knew in his heart that this battle was likely lost. He was in unknown territory. Sure he knew how to beat his opponents, but not of this scale. With so many competitors, it was too difficult to prepare for a single opponent in a match such as this; it was easier for Lionel to prepare for a long battle, instead of just a simple swift fight. He was ready to fight the battle like a true siege, outlasting his opponent until his last breath.

Lionel turned towards the window and looked out at the coliseum that would hold the games that would leave many bodies crushed. 80 competitors, a single victor, there would be 79 crushed bodies within that arena, all destroyed, shattered, decimated. Victory was the only goal, and yet only one could achieve it. The only way to succeed was to take out the biggest threats as swift as possible, as the battle continues, things would only get harder. The more eliminations a warrior committed the better chance he had at victory. It didn’t matter if he succeeded in victory if he crushed others in his path.

It was these types of games that would ultimately kill a warrior. Sure they weren’t meant for death, but for entertainment for the poor peasants and their sickly pleasures. The battle was going to ultimately become a battle of a few, striving for victory. Battling brutally for the chance to be called the ultimate victor, a warrior among peasants, a wolf among sheep, a god among men. The difference between Lionel and the rest of the competitors was that he was a knight, he was used to fighting under exhaustion, fighting to his last breath, and no sparing anyone until the goal was met, no matter how difficult the fighting was.



…



Lionel got up and glanced at the sun in the sky… The event was going to start soon. Blood and sweat were going to be shed in the arena, no body left unscathed. Lionel picked up his armor and slowly began to strap it on. Sure the rules stated that he couldn’t wear his armor as it gave him an unfair advantage and it could seriously injure someone, however it was his only connection to his old world, his old life, full of blood and sin. Back then, Lionel knew who his enemy was, his comrades were truly his comrades until the very end, until the last breath, as many of his comrades ended. In this mad and crazy world, everyone was Lionel’s enemy, he couldn’t rely on anyone. Alliances were always temporary, and they did more harm than good. However, in a war such as this one, a temporary ally could only benefit him, as long as he didn’t turn his back on them.

Lionel did need any ally; otherwise there would be little chance for victory in this mad war. He finished strapping on his armor and left his dwelling and marched his way towards the arena where the carnage would ensue. He noticed a lot of peasants already gathering to watch the bloodshed commence. They wanted to see everyone knee deep in blood, broken and battered, for their entertainment. Lionel marched forward, skipping the line of the peasants and handing a big tough guard a piece of paper. The guard nodes, unleashes the weird red rope blocking his entrance and allowing him to enter the arena where the conflict would be.

Lionel headed towards where the competitors would group up preparing for the battle. With so many warriors, many were given different locations to prepare themselves for the destruction. Lionel found his room where he entered it any already saw a bunch of warriors preparing themselves. He sat down at the far side of the room and watched everyone else get ready for the slaughter that would destroy many. Lionel noticed someone who he had fought against before. Johnathan “Firestorm” Mills sat preparing himself with, putting his glove on and playing with it a bit, sparking a little here and there. Lionel just sat and watched. He glanced around and realized everyone in this room already had their own plans for victory, for domination of the war that would ensue. Many of these competitors were fighting in the other matches, but there were a few who would fight against him. They glanced over towards Lionel who sat stoically, like a solid sentinel awaiting his crusade to begin.

Lionel closed his eyes and mixed up realities. He opened them again and saw soldiers, mercenaries all preparing for battle. They all strapped on their armor, sharpened their weapons with whet stones, spears, blades, axes, all sharped to rip, pierce, and cut flesh. Their battle-hardened eyes scanned the room as they prepared themselves. Lionel shook lightly, glanced down, seeing his iconic ruby studded sword lying in his hands, one he somehow lost in a battle a long time ago, in a different land, in a different time, in a different place. Lionel looked up and smiled. Everyone was prepared, ready for the slaughter, all in top form and bringing everything they could to be crowned the victor.

Lionel closed his eyes and opened them again. Reality returned; his foes were still preparing themselves. Lionel stood up, smiling, there was little left to do. He was prepared physically, mentally, and emotionally. Little stood in his way for this upcoming massacre, he was ready. He confidently walked towards the door, his grin increasing. He was in top condition now, a warrior primed for battle, even in this strange time, he was ready to fight. His mind was clear; he walked towards the door and walked out into the bustling hallway. He walks towards where the competitors all began to group up for the battle, ready for their turn to enter the fray. Lionel heard his name, and turned around. The Knight was ready to fight to the death.

[Lord Raab]

Coming back to Germany from Norway three days after the 2010 Eurovision Song Contest. Hannover, Germany. Tuesday 1st June 2010

Back in two thousand and ten, Germany won the Eurovision Song Contest and Stefan mentored Lena who led Germany to win the contest for the first time in twenty eight years for their country. Lena won the Unser Star fur Oslo casting show against twenty other candidates to represent Germany in the song contest for Eurovision. They'd got off the Lufthansa plane with Stefan standing on the stairs, waving the German flag with Lena following Stefan out as they make their way down the stairs from the plane to get crowded with lots of press cameras surrounding them who knew both of them were arriving that day.

They'd had lots more pictures taken before they went in the airport with Stefan waving the German flag, as he's walking to get his bags. As they got their luggage and after Lena was interviewed, Stefan was stopped by two German interviewers and one of them begins to speak in German.

Interviewer 1: “Herzlichen Glückwunsch zum Gewinn des Eurovision Song Contest, Stefan. Lassen Sie mich Ihnen diese Frage. "Als Deutschland die Gewinner des Wettbewerbs, was waren Ihre Gefühle durchmachen zu der Zeit bekannt gegeben?"

“Congratulations on winning the Eurovision Song Contest, Stefan. Let me ask you this question. “When Germany was announced the winners of the contest, what were your emotions going through at the time?”

Stefan was still trying to sink in the emotions he had now, even though the contest ended two days ago, but he couldn't help but be overjoyed with the win his country got against the other European countries around the world as he begins to speak.

Stefan Raab: "Ich war fast in Tränen aus und war schockiert, als so, wie wir Lena war wie für uns selbst, das ist für echte verdammt, dass wir tatsächlich den Wettbewerb gewonnen? Wir sahen dann die Stimmen voraus waren und mit über hundert Stimmen über den zweitplatzierten Land in den Wettbewerb der Türkei. Ich war glücklich wie die Hölle, zu wissen, ich habe das ein Ziel, das ich wollte schon immer in meinem Leben zu tun und das ist, nach Deutschland, um den Sieg im Eurovision Song Contest als Sänger oder einem Mentor führen getan. Ich habe es endlich geschafft und es ist etwas, ich werde für den Rest meines Lebens erinnern."

“I was practically in tears and shocked as so was Lena as we was like to ourselves, is this for damn real that we actually won the contest? We then saw the votes and were ahead with over one hundred votes over the second placed country in the contest Turkey. I was happy as hell, knowing I've done the one goal I've always wanted to do in my life and that's to lead Germany to victory in the Eurovision Song Contest as a singer or a mentor. I've finally done it and it's something I'm going to remember for the rest of my life.”

Very short answer, but was relevant to the question as the third interviewer already had another question to ask for Stefan, something everyone wants to know what Stefan meant by other goals and he begins to ask it as Stefan drinks some water.

Interviewer 2: "Du hast erwähnt Gewinn des Eurovision Song Contest für Deutschland war eines Ihrer Ziele so, welche anderen Ziel oder Ziele, die Sie erreichen wollen?"

“You've mentioned winning the Eurovision Song Contest for Germany was one of your goals so what other goal or goals you want to achieve?”

For Stefan, it was quite an easy question as he saw something on TV he would love to be apart of one day as he has a smile on his face, knowing the one thing he wants to do as well to achieve his goal as he talks about it.

Stefan Raab: "Das ist eine sehr gute Frage, denn niemand hat mir diese Frage gestellt vor . In letzter Zeit , während ich vor dem Fernseher , I'd Flick über der Fernbedienung, um eine Wrestling- Veranstaltung, die jedes Jahr im Januar statt Ruhr genannt Action Packed Wrestling Silvester Retribution Pay Per View . Es verfügt über eine Rumble- Match genannt Survive and Conquer , wo all die Ringer aus der ganzen Welt , um an diesem besonderen Ereignis, bei dem man im Grunde werfen Gegner über das oberste Seil mit beiden Füßen den Boden berühren zu nehmen. Dann würde sie diese Reihe von Übereinstimmungen, wenn es bis zu den letzten vier Menschen in der Rumpel links war . Die Spiele waren ein Stahlkäfig , Straßen Kampf um die letzten drei Ringer und Hölle in der Zelle Ladder Match für die letzten zwei Ringer und Victor Hades gewann den Rumble in diesem Jahr. "

“That's a very good question because nobody has asked me that question before. Lately while I was watching TV, I'd flick over the remote to watch an wrestling event that's held every year in January called Action Packed Wrestling New Years Retribution Pay Per View. It has a rumble match called Survive and Conquer where all the wrestlers from around the world to take part in this special event where you basically throw opponents over the top rope with both feet touching the floor. Then, they'd have these series of matches when it was down to the final four people left in the rumble. The matches were a steel cage, Street fight for the last three wrestlers and hell in the cell ladder match for the last two wrestlers and Victor Hades won the rumble this year.”

Stefan got distracted by fans wanting his autograph as he proudly signed them and even had pictures taken with some of the fans as well as once they went away, he continued to talk again.

Stefan Raab: ""Als ich es sah, war ich wie verdammt, wie ich würde gerne in der Survive and Conquer-Rumble-Match zu kämpfen, vor allem, wenn das Ereignis überhaupt nach Deutschland kommt, weil ich so nah an den Ruhestand entfernt, ein Entertainer und bewegte meine Karriere Richtung Wrestling. Das ist mein Traum, der Gewinner des Survive and Conquer-Rumble-Match vor meinen heimischen Fans, so dass sie stolz darauf, dass mir der erste deutsche Ringer je, die Rumble-Match zu gewinnen, etwas zurückgeben zu diesen fantastischen Fans hier und wo immer sie sich in Deutschland. Ich werde erobern das Grollen in Deutschland und gewinnen. Sie können mir glauben, dass".

“When I watched it, I was like damn, how I'd love to wrestle in the Survive and Conquer rumble match, especially if the event ever comes to Germany because I'm so close on retiring from being an entertainer and moving my career towards wrestling. That's my dream to become the winner of the Survive and Conquer rumble match in front of my home fans, making them proud to see me become the first German wrestler ever to win the rumble match, giving something back to these awesome fans here and wherever they are in Germany. I'm gonna conquer the rumble in Germany and win. You better believe that.”

Interviewer 1: "Vielen Dank für Ihre Zeit Stefan und ich hoffe, Sie auf der Eurovision Song Contest im nächsten Jahr wieder und Gratulation zum Gewinn des Wettbewerbs zu sehen."

“Thank you for your time Stefan and I hope to see you at the Eurovision Song Contest next year and congrats again on winning the contest.”

Stefan Raab: "Ich danke Ihnen sehr und ich werde mein Haus, um den Sieg mit meinen Freunden und Lena feiern. Tschuss."

“Thank you very much and I'm going to my house to celebrate the win with my friends and Lena. Bye.”

Stefan went to spend more time with the fans that came to Hannover Airport to visit him as he again had lots of pictures taken and asked a lot of questions the fans had for him as after they'd all left Stefan alone, he got in the limousine, getting himself back home to where he lives in Cologne, Germany.



Raabinator against the world the movie. Munich, Germany. Saturday 25th January.

Stefan was invited by a film producer to have a movie of Stefan fighting against the world as a human robot machine, going up against lots of Raabinator robots as the film producers thought since Stefan was going to face against the world tomorrow night, they thought this would be perfect to do the ending for the movie today. Usually the film producers wouldn't like people being around on filming things for movies, but because Stefan was going to talk about the Survive and Conquer rumble match, he invited his friends and his fans to come down to watch the filming of the movie as well.

The ending scene was going to be where Stefan rides a bike with a gun to blast the other Raabinators away and then Stefan stops to go in the shed to fight against the toughest Raabinator robot in the world, R6. Stefan was dressed up, wearing a biker jacket with biker trousers with sunglasses and he's sitting on the bike ready to go. The film producers said action as Stefan begins to speak.

Stefan Raabinator: “Ich can't believe I'm going to be in the Survive and Conquer match that I've dreamt taking part in, ever since two thousand and ten in Germany. Sure I was in the rumble last year, but nothing compares to this where I'm the main face of this country in the match. Ich got to go up against twenty other guys in my group who I heard some just entering in the rumble match for the first time, dreaming to be in the match for a long while but for me, it's the dream of being in the match in Germany is the reason why I placed myself in this match. You see today, I'm not going to disrespect the fans because Germany is the only place that Ich could never say bad things towards these fans and that's not my goal for today.”

What I'm going to do instead is talk about how much I'm hated around the wrestling world and talk a little bit about my opponents, but not that much since today, I'm filming a movie about myself being hated around the world, fighting against these raabinator robots who also want to take over the world. It's exactly how I feel in wrestling these past two years that people hate me only because Ich refuse to give and show them any respect in the wrestling which in my view is pathetic. I've never wrestled to gain or get respect from anybody in wrestling, since it's complete utter Bockmist that just because you stupid wrestlers may have achieved a lot in your wrestling careers and the amount of hard work you've done in the sport, that doesn't mean Scheisse to mir at all and honestly, I don't give a Affe Arsch of what you lot done because it's not relevant at all.

You wrestlers nowadays are far too soft with showing respect and becoming friendly towards each other like the stupid punks all of you really are. Where's the hatred and violent rivalries gone? Where's the days of wrestlers talking shit towards each other before matches have gone? There's barely to never any rivalries like that any more because everyone is afraid of getting hurt and beat by other wrestlers. Not me because that's how a true wrestler should do to hurt other wrestlers and to hate one another, not showing respect and being friendly trash going around these days and it's no wonder why the sport is dying because you fickt are too scared to have other wrestlers ganging up on you to be hated against the world.”

Stefan was still on his bike as during his talk, he had to shoot lots of raabinators, trying to destroy Stefan from taking over the world which was proving to be difficult with them being robots as well. He's already used a shotgun to take out the raabinators only to realize he'd ran out of ammo with the R5 jumping on the bike behind Stefan to strangle him.

Stefan Raabinator: “Sohn von Hündin”

“Son of a bitch”

Stefan had to flip the R5 robot over and uses vicious punches and throws him to the road where the R5 got crushed by other cars which Stefan smiled as he continued to ride the bike away from the other raabinators coming towards him, including the R6 that was now stuck in the mix with things. Stefan then continued to talk about the match for tomorrow night.

Stefan Raabinator: “Last year when I was in Survive and Conquer match, I was only focusing on President Jeff and my rage with his company, this year however I got nothing to focus on. Recently, I've been fired from Phoenix Wrestling just because I assaulted their wrestlers and the fans off camera but a few minutes later, I got a DM from Inferno Wrestling on twitter asking me to join with them and I did straight away, so thanks to them, I've already moved on from them and I thought APW was bad? At least they didn't fire me over something stupid like that.

So I'm glad I chose to represent WEW because as I said last year they are the only company that really want me around, well so far anyway, unless the Four Corners Wrestling and Inferno Wrestling bosses can convince me wrong, but Alakai loves the work I do for his company and there's no other company I'm happy to wrestle in other than World Elite Wrestling because Alakai Burke who's the owner of WEW even came to visit me in prison and Jeff only came down once to announce that APW was closing down and then he bailed me out, considering I was going to do a whole prison trial without doing any house arrests until my realise from prison.

There's a lot of wrestlers who are very well known in my group I've been placed in like Rex Evans who I know wants to face me in the ring for a long time who like me was also in prison, but the only difference is he came out of prison under house arrest. I heard about you drinking alcohol everyday like a ficken coward you are on trying to kill yourself. Since you want to fight me and you finished third place in the rumble last year, I have no problems on throwing your ass out of the ring.

Wrestlers like AC Smith who was and still is the current APW Xtreme champion and recently his father died hence why he's in the match. You're dad is dead get over it and trust me, your dead dad is going to be watching his son getting his ass kicked and then being thrown out of the ring by this home town guy. Nobody in the crowd will care about you wrestling for your dead dad when I'm out there because they will be cheering me instead of you.

Amy Zing is another big name in this match because she's the current North American champion in APW as well but that honestly doesn't mean anything to me and you aren't American at all. You are from Hong Kong and I'm surprised nobody is offended when you carry that title around knowing you aren't from any part of America. You're an insult to your country and I do aim to throw you out of the ring. I renamed my Suicidal title because to show I'm proud to be a German and these fans are going to be behind me, not you tomorrow night. Tough scheisse if you don't like it cos it's the truth.

I almost forgot about Roy Speede being in this match who's never really bothered me at all during the times we wrestled in both WEW and APW companies. In fact he's the only guy outside of WEW that's given me respect and never really bad mouthed me once at all. Sorry pal, but being from Germany means you are stepping in my country looking to be thrown out over the top rope.

There's one other name in this match I've heard a lot about recently with all the hype surrounding one guy that's been a multiple time Experts champion and that's Jack Benevolence. From what I've seen in the tweets is a man who's a lot like me on being arrogant and having a lot of people hate him. That's ladies and gentleman is what you call a real wrestler and he's been in prison as well and sure I consider that man a threat, but like everyone else nobody is going to care once I'm in the ring and by god I really like you and you're a living breathing legend around here, but like everyone else, I'm the guy that people are looking at and I wouldn't have any problems throwing you out of the ring either in the match.”

Stefan finished up talking about his opponents after fighting off a lot of raabinators that came from all over the world to own the world from their machines. He'd defeated all of the raabinators except for one, the strongest raabinator on the planet, the R6. Stefan arrived at the shed that's full of aeroplanes as he got off his bike and stands right in the middle while he cracks his knuckles, being prepared for the fight of his life as he finally sees the R6 entering where Stefan was as he says this.

Stefan Raabinator: “Bringen Sie es auf du Stück Scheiße.”

“Bring it on you piece of shit.”

They started to swing punches and kicks towards each other as Stefan continued to speak while he's fighting the R6.

Stefan Raabinator: “Ich didn't mention anybody else because I don't know the rest of you due to not catching my attention with anything you've done in wrestling at all or I've been told to keep my comments to myself regarding Phoenix Wrestling. I got the world of robots going against me just like I got the world of wrestlers that want nothing more than to throw me out of the ring, embarrassing me except the WEW guys and girls and Jason Kash because I get along with them, but the rest of you, I have issues with, but then again I have issues with everyone in the rumble, especially the Phoenix pricks. If I end up being in the finals of the rumble, I will knock every single wrestler out of my sight asides from the WEW guys and girls and Jason Kash that we'll bring the house down, showing them how talented we are around the world that WEW wrestlers and Kash fully deserve putting their blood, sweat and tears on the line for the business each time they wrestle.

Everyone else is underneath the level of these guys and girls above although I wouldn't mind if someone from 4CW or Inferno Wrestling companies come out looking strong either because I'm in those companies as well as World Elite Wrestling, but WEW will always be the company I represent all the times I'm wrestling around the world, kicking people's asses in wrestling tournaments and putting my heart and soul into that company every time I wrestle in the ring. WEW will always come first because it's my first true home of where my wrestling career was born before I discovered APW properly, but joining APW has helped my career as well as thanks to them on preparing me for my against Angelica, I got a win over her in my first steel cage match and I've been undefeated in cage matches ever since. Beaten Mephisto in a cage match at the T-Act Cup and beaten the APW team in the war games match at One Night In Hell in October.”

Stefan took some really heavy shots against the R6 robot as he'd been dominated the whole time he was fighting it, but then he found the strength in him to fight back to say this.

Stefan Raabinator: "Payback ist eine Schlampe."

“Payback's a bitch.”

Stefan then swings back at the R6 robot and he continues to fight while he talks more about the match.

Stefan Raabinator: “I've been promoting Survive and Conquer PPV for the last two weeks that I've been here, but it's something I was assigned to do by Jeff purely because I'm the only German guy that's in this match and I've got another match to talk about later on after I've done the press conference with Jeff about the event itself. I'm really looking forward to this match being in my home country and I'm so god damn hyped for it that I'm dying to get stuck in the match and beat the hell out of all of my opponents like I'm doing right now to the R6 robot.

I know there's a lot of big names in the match, but I have no fear because everyone is stepping into my country thinking they got a chance to win? Nope none of you do because I'll be the one having the crowd behind me and cheering for every single thing I'll do in that ring because they are the only set of people that are my true fans. The other fans I have aren't because the fans here have supported me throughout my entertainment career and other things as well while the rest of the fans around the world only became a fan of me when I started wrestling.

I know from my actions on twitter lately that I'm their number one target to be thrown out of the ring as well as me being German. This event is already special to me because I'm the only German guy in the match and the only German guy capable of winning this thing against seventy nine other men and women, well technically I only got to win against twenty three other men and women in the match to win the whole thing, but yes I'm more than confident enough to be able to win this match for Germany. If I could do what I did with Lena with the Eurovision back in two thousand and ten, I can do it here as well in Germany conquering against the world by being the last man in the ring to go through to meet the final three wrestlers in a cage match, a street fight and the Hell In The Cell ladder match, winning lots of money for myself, WEW company and the fans here in Germany.”

After Stefan gets the R6 down, he gets a bucket and gets some hot magma that's pouring in the building and pours it over the robot hearing it scream as it was melting for Stefan to say this while crouching down on the floor.

Stefan Raabinator: "Sie alle werden von der deutschen Sensation morgen Abend Raabinated werden."

“You all will be Raabinated by The German sensation tomorrow night.”

Then the movie finished filming after the film director told everyone to stop as Stefan looked at the time and realized that he was late to meet up with Jeff to do the press conference so he got his things and ran straight towards the arena and goes inside to sit next to Jeff for the press conference to start before doing other promotional things for his other match later on today.

TAGS; Everyone in the Survive and Conquer rumble
WORDS; 3945 without coding and 4080 with coding
OUTFIT; The above picture for scene 1 and biker jacket and trousers with sunglasses and black boots for scene 2
NOTES; What I've done with this RP is I translated some of the words in German and the words I wrote in English are in italics so people know what the interviewers and Stefan himself are saying in the interview and in the movie as well. I will also be doing bits of German translation again in my Fatal Four Way match as well due to the location of the event itself. Anyway that's more for the judges to know than everyone else. Good luck to everybody in this match.
CREDITS; FlawlessGFX Exclusive for STEFAN RAAB
LYRICS; “Cannibal” by Static-X

[Pat E. Nigma]

I wasn't much for inter-promotional events but to say the temptation wasn't there to begin with would make me the liar everyone claims I am. Although with that being said, I was always watching, waiting for the opportune time to strike and like a snake in the grass I was always around, you just didn't know it. But following the precedent of being so truthful, I'll have to admit I kind of liked the idea of being unknown after all, I was Pat E. Nigma.

I had been doing some soul searching as of late traveling the world with Phoenix Wrestling in hopes of rekindling the spark that I had lost some time ago and after a trip back to where it all began I found something but still I had an emptiness in my heart that ached to be filled. As I said I was always watching and the fact that the buzz was so loud I couldn't exactly ignore it...Survive and Conquer was looming closer and closer as most mainstream media had begun to pick it up and combine that with the talk amongst the PW locker room? I was starting to feel that itch again, my reaction was rather mixed towards it, after so many years of holding a grudge against the wrestling industry and those that have such a stranglehold on it, I started feel the way I used to, back when I loved the sport and was so young and innocent. But in the same breath, I opted to ignore it chalking it up to looking for the east solution so time passed on and the sign up deadline had passed, but the itch burned harder and harder so much that it began to eat me alive, this was it...

-01/08/14-

As I sat on the plane headed back to the United States I sat with my headphones in trying to ignore any social interaction that might come my way from the man seated next to me. He had tattoos, I had tattoos; you could see where the conversation would have went so I buried myself in some Bouncing Souls and continued to think. I hated to admit it but for once in my life I found my attention divided between two separate goals, I wanted to ruin the monarchy that the higher ups of PW had formed and I would do that by any means necessary but on the opposite side of things I still found myself salivating at the hype built up around APW's pride and joy, the more time I let it percolate the more I felt like I needed it. I was a proud straight edge man with no vices, but the more I thought of it I started to realize that my addiction was competition and being the proverbial dark horse served only to amplify that. By this point I had crossed numerous time zones and the fact still remained the same, I couldn't stop thinking about and despite the fact my eyes were shut my mind was racing, I guess the old saying was right “no rest for the wicked”.

The plane had finally touched down and the rest of the passengers began to stir, I however remained deep in thought, most of the people were likely happy to be back home or eager to get to their next destination, but I knew just exactly what was waiting for me at the baggage claim, an angry PR representative for PW, I guess they didn't like roster members going AWOL and flying to the other side of the world on a whim, I was in for an ear full. I had always tried my best to blend in with the rest of the general public, you know; shorts, band or edge shirt, Nike sneakers. But I couldn't help but feel like I had a target on my chest and sure enough from a distance throughout the busy airport I heard the sound of heels clacking around the floor at an alarming rate, the ammunition of choice? A woman in a pants suit; hard and fast.

“Just who the hell do you think you are? Do you think it's ok to just jump on the earliest flight across the entire damn world?! What if there was an accident? What if there was bad weather and you were stuck there? We have an event coming up that you are specifically needed for, and as much as I'd rather you fall off the face of the earth so I didn't need to deal with you anymore, I don't want to have to-” Did I mention that I had a habit of pissing people off? If not let's make that perfectly clear right now, because she was mad, she wasn't afraid to make a scene but the major problem was that I didn't care and I let her know as I grabbed my bags and shot her a sideways glare.

“I don't care...” I continued along my way with a conniving grin plastered across my face, I'm sure you could see smoke come out of her ears as recalled faintly hearing her roar with rage. I however, was too focused on other things that were on my plate to really pay much attention to any of her nonsense. I had tunnel vision and was en route to the exit and I almost made it out in what I could only imagine to be record time until a promotional poster caught my eye. Once again, I laid my eyes on Survive and Conquer and I got that feeling again, unsure if this would haunt me til the end of my days I took the poster and continued my exit.

-01/10/14-

I had finally settled into my hotel room but to say I was relaxed just wasn't accurate. I couldn't get it out of my mind, arguably the biggest event in the history of pro wrestling and I wouldn't be apart of it and what burned me up the most was that the more I thought of it the more I realized there wouldn't be another shot. APW had announced they would be shutting their doors for good and this would be the Survive and Conquer, I died a little on the inside at the thought as frustration wreaked havoc throughout my brain. I wasn't much for regret but there is always a first for everything, I wish I had have acted sooner.
I surfed through my twitter account and watched as names and groupings were announced, also sifting through the odd insult Ashlyn Deluca would throw at me. I was beginning to come to terms that I would miss out as the day had passed me by until the official APW twitter posted that Shawn Alexander Cage had dropped from the match. I froze, it was like my brain knew what exactly to do and was screaming for my body to react to this but the connection just wasn't made, was I second guessing myself? The competition was arguably the steepest I would ever face in the remainder of my wrestling career but it was unlike me to have such uncertainty. I let the idea bounce around with part of me hoping that someone else would take the spot, but after a few hours of it remaining vacant I knew that that spot belonged to me. I wasn't much into fate and other similar ideals but part of me knew this was meant to be, part of me knew I was supposed to take that spot as my own, and when opportunity knocks? You answer.

I snapped out of my frozen state and I made a late night phone call to APW's own President “Hurricane” Jeff. “I'm in.” there wasn't much room for conversation as I made my intentions quite clear all he had to do was oblige—which he did. I ended the call quickly as I pulled out the poster I had taken from the airport and began to look at it deeply, I was salivating at the thought of my participation, I was scared to death but as the smile on my face grew wider I knew I found that missing piece to the puzzle; desire.

-01/16/14-

A few days had passed me by and to say that I was still in relatively rough shape would be a bit of an understatement. I had it in my grasp, the Phoenix Wrestling International Championship and I had it taken from me and as much as I'd love to say it was by someone so undeserving I didn't have it in me to tell the lie, strange isn't it? Ashlyn had guts she wouldn't quit and stood toe to toe with me for the entire fight, I wouldn't dare admit this to her but somewhere along the line I might have actually gained some respect for her. I remember finally pulling myself together in the doctors office as they pulled splinter after splinter out of my back, turns out crashing through several tables can make such a thing happen. Accompany that with an ache in your back that would make you believe you've all but crippled yourself, you'd think one would reconsider the profession they chose. But I couldn't bring myself to such a place mentally, after all that had happened to be within the last few days put me in a place where I might not have been learning to walk again, but I was certainly looking back over my actions and coming to a moment of clarity. I had made an attempt to distance myself from Chris Chaos and whoever his flavor of the month protege just happened to be, but I guess he opted to have the last word on the situation; for now. He put the boots to me pretty bad before my match in a fit of rage but I wasn't about to let that keep me from competing, after all I had a knack for thriving in such situations. So here I was 4 days removed from a crushing defeat and I was back in the gym training. Call me foolish but I refused to be side tracked and with the assistance of my moment of clarity I was gearing up for the fight of my life. Sit ups, pull ups, crunches, you name it I did it, I wasn't the strongest that would be in the battle royal but I felt that I would have an edge if I could increase my stamina. While some guys would start getting blown up I would just be hitting my stride, or at least that was the hope. I honestly had no idea what each person would bring to the table in such an event, I had heard of some of the contestants but that was the extent of my knowledge, the only thing truly certain was uncertainty, something I happened to know quite well. There got to a point where I hit a wall in my training, my body was still not fully recovered and I was pushing it really hard in hopes of working through any discomfort but something had to give unfortunately my music would only go so loud and could only carry me so far. I sat up against a wall and rested my music continued to blast through my headphones as if talking to me directly...

“Goodbye to a world that never loved, and hello uncertainty, millions lined up the churches door to repent for their sins and just kept sinning. We are the greatest plague the earth has ever seen.”

Suddenly the music stopped and my ringer came through on my headphones and much to my chagrin it was PW Public Relations and Advertising.

“Yes?” I've never really claimed to be a people person so I didn't quite understand why people were caught off guard by it. It didn't help matters that I loved getting under the skin of upper management at every waking opportunity, it made for some interesting conversations.

“So, when the hell were you going to tell me you were entered into Survive and Conquer? Did you not think that I should maybe know about this? You're lucky...lucky that I like putting up with your bullshit. We're going to set up something to promote your participation in Survive and Conquer, you don't just represent yourself you know, you represent Phoenix Wrestling.” The tone of her voice spoke louder than her actual words, the entire time I felt as if she was rubbing it in my face that I was apart of PW and that she pushed me into a promotional bit for the big event. I couldn't do anything but oblige plus I needed to say a thing or two. We exchanged details for the promotional bit and ended the call and almost as if some form of epiphany my music kicked back in.....

“I'll hold my breath til I come close to death and once my heart stops beating, I won't have to see this world crumbling. I won't see anything....”


-01/18/14-

I had just gotten off the bus and began walking to my destination, I couldn't help but have those lyrics run through my head as if the clip was on repeat. I felt some sort of connection to them as if I was going through the same thing. I had been on a crusade for so long against injustices and unjust preferences, yet even through all my efforts I found myself bested by a woman who I claimed was soft and undeserving; I felt a small part of me die. My destination was only a few blocks away from my bus stop so I got there rather quick, which didn't exactly leave much time for reflection especially considering I was greeted at the door immediately by corporates bane to my existence.

“Alright Pat, take off that sweater of yours and put this in.” She cut right to the chase as she lobbed me a balled up shirt, I was caught a little off guard at this since I wasn't exactly a dress up type, hell I usually just wore whatever I so happened to be wearing that day to interviews and live events but I caught the shirt either way and unfolded it so I could get a good look at it; this wasn't good. I looked at the shirt as I held it outstretched and I was almost floored at what I was looking at. I took my time to really let it sink in before I peered over the outstretched shirt shooting a confused glare at the woman.

“...This is a joke right?” I honestly thought it was, and deep down I really hoped her answer was yes, and my heart sank as she stood before me sternly shaking her head. “You know, I'm not exactly what could be defined as a team player..” I tried to reason with her about it, I mean I did feel as if a part of me had died on the inside but that didn't exactly stifle my disdain for PW or the idea that I was supposed to be apart of their 'team' I always have always been a lone wolf and I hoped that was going to stick this time around. She looked at me and with every ounce of spite in her slender feminine body she leaned in and said “I don't care...” clearly mimicking my actions from days prior in the airport. I shook my head and quickly changed shirts, I didn't like it but I was finally starting to learn when to pick my battles, resulting in becoming the proud owner of a PW t-shirt. Was it any wonder why I had a hatred towards women? If so this was one of the many reasons. I walked in front of the stationary camera as many people readied themselves to begin filming my message to the world. I repeatedly kept clenching my fist as I waited with obvious impatience, it was something I developed in my early teens for when I would get angry or frustrated almost like squeezing an imaginary stress ball. In all honesty if I didn't have so much to get off my chest in regards to where my head was at in regards to Survive and Conquer I likely would have never put the shirt on, but as she counted me in those lyrics began to feel like a reality.

3.....
2.....
1.....

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

“Survive and Conquer...” I said as I let out a small dry laugh and flashed a grin that perfectly showed my anticipation. I rubbed my hands together and looked to the ceiling before tilting my head back down and regaining my focus on the camera.

“A series of four over-the-top-rope battle royals where the winners of their respective battles will face off in arguably the most grueling fight of their lives. Four participants – one winner, on potentially the biggest inter-promotional stage in the history of the sport of professional wrestling. An event that one can either make or break their career, and draws the line between the best of the best and all the rest. Pretty intimidating right?” I laugh as I try to make light of the situation momentarily before moving forward.


“But it doesn't stop there because, you see unlike the years before it there is no 'better luck next time'. There is no 'I'll really blow them away with my next run' because after January 26th, there will be no more Survive and Conquer. Recently it's been reported that APW has opted to close it's doors once and for all with only a few events left on the schedule. So one could say that things are a bit more dire than they were in other years. So I guess that brings the question of what part I will have in all of this, and that's what brings me here today. As most of the people who follow this great sport likely already know, when the deadline for Survive and Conquer entrances had come and gone, yours truly was not one of the people that threw their name in the hat, and the more I sat on the idea of missing this the more it burned me, the more it pulled at my moral fibers, and the more I began to hunger. So I went on a soul searching mission in hopes of finding myself before my match at Risen, and as you can probably tell by the lack of hardware over my shoulder or around my waist, things didn't exactly go according to plan...but that's OK. Because days before all that the opportunity of a life time came knocking, and like the old saying goes 'when opportunity knocks, you answer...” I hung on that thought for a brief moment as I glanced to my right and left using my peripherals limbering up my shoulders and my still relatively sore back before raising my index finger as if to say “but wait there's more.”

“...and is it ever an opportunity. Four groupings of arguably the-absolute-best talent in wrestling and I find myself smack dab in the middle of it all, and I'm certain that most if not all of the combatants, with the exception of the rest of the PW participants, have no idea just who the hell I am and while I am a virtual unknown to many I just want to say that I have nothing but respect for all of the participants. Now that might not amount to a hill of beans to any one of you, but that's where I come in. I'm here to make each of you give a damn about Pat E. Nigma, and if that means I have to slug it out in Group 1 with names like Rex Evans and Jack Benevolence than so be it. But the fact that many have begun to place bets on who they think will be crowned the winner is a slap in my face, especially considering that quite a few of the people pegged to win this thing just so happen to be in my grouping. Hell, many have even gone as far as pegging Group 1 as the most lop sided group ever to be in Survive and Conquer, so much so that some have thrown in the towel before the bell has even rung. Yet here I stand cool, calm, and collected because I have nothing to lose and everything to gain. Any impression that I leave is far greater than anyone is expecting of me, but don't let that be confused with complacency. I fully intend to leave my mark on professional wrestling by walking out the survivor of Group 1 and into the Final 4...” I flashed a smug grin upon my face as I drew my head to the right and chuckled to myself.

“and I know that might sound ludicrous to most of you but if there was ever one thing that I just so happen to excel at it would be survival. They've been trying to break me since I entered this damn business and have failed at every attempt, they've been trying to make me turn and run because they don't believe in me.” I said running my index finger across the PW shirt that I wore as if providing a visual of who “they” might be.

“Even the people who just so happen to wear the same colors as me don't believe in me. So I'll be keeping tabs on everyone in each group awaiting the outcome of who I'll be facing in the finals and I can only hope it's one of the people holding the PW flag, because when it comes to any allegiances...” I ripped the PW shirt from my upper body revealing my tattoo covered arms and chest sending a message that I was an island unto myself not PW or anyone else as I looked beyond the camera and stared into the eyes of my corporate bane.

“everyone will be conquered.” I didn't waste anytime as I walked from in front of the camera and grabbed my things. I walked directly past my bane as if to rub it in her face, I don't take a look back as I walked out the door, I was far too focused on the end goal; maybe that little piece of me didn't truly die.

[Jason Blade]

Monday, January 13, 2014

I began to question my purpose in entering a match like Survive and Conquer. This was the type of match one would generally sign up for if they were desperate for cash or fame. As I had originally predicted the signups consisted of mostly people who were more interested in the prize rather than the journey. That’s where I drew my line; wrestling was never about money or fame. It was about the journey for the championship gold and seeing just how long you could hold onto it until someone eventually knocked you off from the top. Once you got knocked down it was a long journey back to the top.

Most of the stars that had been attracted to APW’s Survive and Conquer struck me as just that; stars. These people could wrestle a match, but if you put them in a life or death situation they would run with their tail between their legs. I always respected those that paved the way for the new generation. Those that fought with everything they had in every single situation. It was that aspect which drew me to Survive and Conquer.

I had an opportunity to prove myself against the industry’s greatest talents in one of the largest matches of the year.

Ryan Blade: This highlight reel is pretty snazzy!

Ryan’s comment pulled me back into reality. He was watching a highlight from Ignite 177 featuring my match against one of NEW’s best talents. While I had ultimately lost that match not long ago, it was one of my favorite memories and one of my favorite matches.

Jason Blade: That right there was one of the most painful moments of my life. Absolutely nothing I could do could put him away.

Ryan Blade: You fought well, but that man just cannot be stopped.

Jason Blade: That he can’t. He’s going to be the longest running Youngblood in NEW’s history. I can feel it.

Ryan Blade: Indeed. I’m proud of how long you survived that, though. I think 2014 might very well be your year.

Jason Blade: Indeed. What do you think about my odds in Survive and Conquer?

Ryan sat forward in his seat as his relaxed demeanor had been replaced with a more serious one.

Ryan Blade: You’re against 79 other men and women from all walks of life. There is going to be a controlled chaos in a sense. If you get eliminated from the match it’s over, but until then this can be pretty much anyone’s game. Think about that for a moment. You’re going to be facing ex-champions, current champions, rising stars, industry legends, losers, sinners, and prostitutes.

Jason Blade: I’m not too sure about there being prostitutes in this match…

Ryan Blade: That’s beside the point! I want you to think about this seriously. You have a lot on the line here.

Jason Blade: I don’t have anything on the line in this match.

Ryan Blade: Do you?

Jason Blade: I don’t.

Ryan Blade: Oh… well… regardless this is going to be a very difficult match. Under the assumption that by some miracle you’re able to make it into the final four you now have an opportunity to win the match, but you’re going to be standing face to face with three others who are out for blood. For many this is an opportunity to win some money or to get spotted by the largest names in wrestling. What does it really mean to you?

Jason Blade: If I were to be completely honest I am in this for the challenge. There are a lot of people in both New Edge and Sunrise that think I am worthless. I am supposedly a waste of time. I have enemies in the ring but I actually don’t have a single friend. I’ve made some acquaintances in the ring like Bobby Backdoor, but I don’t have anyone watching my back. Hell, you don’t even show up to my matches.

Ryan Blade: I do when I have time.

Jason Blade: Which match have you shown up to?

Ryan Blade: Fair enough.

Jason Blade: I don’t care about the money. If I win I’ll just donate it to charity. I don’t care about the fame. I won’t accept the offers from other federations that I would get. The entire point of this match is to get the experience of having faced some of the most ‘influential’ men and women to enter the ring. I need to show everyone that I am a force to be reckoned with. People like Ryan Pugh don’t bat an eye when they hear my name. People like V mock me and tell me that I am not worth their time. People like SIXXX want to beat me within an inch of my life. I have a lot to worry about going into this, but I have shown my ability to adapt to any challenge.

Ryan Blade: That is true.

Jason Blade: I’ll be completely honest. There is not a single person in this match that I have ever shared the ring with. I know of Adrien Spectre very well, but we aren’t even in the same group. The chances of us meeting in the ring are going to be very small.

Ryan Blade: That is very true.

Jason Blade: When I see the names of people like Jack Benevolence I think of the raw opportunity to eliminate someone who has already made a name for themselves. I think of the future challenges that is going to present for me and the opportunity to prove someone wrong. There are a lot of people in New Edge that have absolutely zero confidence in my ability to become a graceful champion. I couldn’t defeat Bobby Backdoor in that ring but I was able to showcase my ability to survive nearly everything that was thrown at me. The matches I have lost outside of that one have been out of my control.

Ryan Blade: That’s a good point. You’re entering a match that you have historically had problems with.

Jason Blade: Right. I have never won a match like this. That being said, I have shown that I am generally quick witted. Think about Evander Cage. That man did everything he could to eliminate me from the match and make himself the winner. It almost seemed like God himself wanted him to win. A helicopter actually dropped a fire proof suit to protect him from the flames in that match. Did that stop me from winning? I am not going to let anyone in that ring get the best of me. I’ve worked way too hard to let some cocky ‘stars’ get in my way.

Ryan Blade: I think regardless of your intent or your energy you’re going to be in trouble here. You’ve got 19 other people in your group that if threatened will be willing to target and eliminate you first. If you are a high profile going into the match the chances of actually winning the match actually shrink because everyone wants to eliminate a big name. You’re drawing a lot of attention to yourself in New Edge. That’s going to be a major problem for you.

Jason Blade: On the contrary. There are names in there larger than my own. I may have a lot of momentum going into this match, but there are still a lot of people who bet against me in every single match I am in. For good reason too. My history isn’t exactly stellar. These people don’t see what my opponents find when they face me. I am not an easy person to defeat. My opponents have to find ways to circumvent me in order to win. I have to be triple teamed just to be eliminated. In addition to that, my opponents generally have to win through other means. Roger Wright, a NEW legend in many eyes, had to pin the other man in the match to get a victory against me. Let’s face it. It takes a lot of pain and suffering to knock me out. Going into this match I am adapting my strategies to survive as long as I can. This is SURVIVE and Conquer. I have everything I need to be able to survive the match. I am more of a survivalist than most others. I am going to do anything and everything I can to not be eliminated. More importantly I know what a rumble match takes. I’ve been through so many of them recently. I am starting to hit that point in experience where it’s just another match to me. At the end of the day these people are going to have to kill me if they are going to eliminate.

Ryan Blade: Well put. You’re going to go places even if this isn’t going to be your night.

Jason Blade: It’s going to be my night. I will show everyone in Sunrise and everyone in New Edge that I am a force to be reckoned with. I am going to send a message to Ryan Pugh to not underestimate me because I am new. I may not have that many years of experience but I have a killer instinct and I am adaptive. I can adapt to any situation regardless of difficult road ahead of me. I am going to show SIXXX that I am not going to be an easy target. I am not going to make it easy for anyone. Not someone in the likes of Hunter Valentyne or Jack Benevolence or V or Ryan Pugh. None of these people have any idea the kind of hell I am going to bring this industry once I find my place. I am going to bring about a-

Ryan Blade: Please don’t say ‘new world order.’ That’s so cliché.

Jason Blade: I was going to say new age.

Ryan Blade: That’s pretty close to-

Jason Blade: Shut it.

Ryan Blade: I’m just sayin’. Look. Regardless of your originality or lack of an interesting catch phrase or the fact that you don’t have an entourage you’re going to be a world class wrestler. You practically already are minus the title around your waist. You’re approaching a time when you can consider yourself a champion. You even have an opportunity here to crown yourself the NEW World Heavyweight Champion.

Jason Blade: I will do whatever it takes to pave my future in this business even if it means having to break some arms along the way.

Ryan Blade: Hold on. I actually had something I wanted to show you.

Jason Blade: What?

Ryan walked over to the DVD player and placed a disc into the player. After a moment a stereotypical title screen displayed without any discernable title. Ryan press play on the remote and a match had started up. Depicted on the screen was Jason Blade’s very first LCW Heavyweight Championship match against King Zilla.

Jason Blade: Wow. You had that?

Ryan Blade: I knew a guy that had a lot of LCW tapings.

As depicted on the screen, Jason Blade executes the Blade Theory on King Zilla and moves in for the pin. After the three count, Jason Blade slowly makes it back to his feet to be crowned the LCW Heavyweight Champion.

Ryan Blade: You’ve already tasted the gold before. I know you can remember what it felt like to truly be the top dog within a federation. You must want to taste that again.

Jason Blade: You’re right. That was the best feeling in the world. I had a large number of competitors attempt to knock me off from the top of the world. I defended that title often enough to bring honor to that belt. It was a belt whose sole honor was built based on my platform and everything I stood for. Not a single person went on to hold that belt with more honor than myself.

Ryan Blade: You have precisely what it takes to do that once again. In New Edge and in Sunrise. And in Survive and Conquer.

Jason Blade: I will do everything it takes to win that match.

Ryan Blade: Good. Don’t let any doubt get in that head of yours. Sorry to cut this short, but I didn’t realize it was getting late. I have to meet a few associates for a meeting.

Jason Blade: Alright. Later.

I waved to Ryan as he got to his feet. Nonchalantly he left the room, leaving the television screen paused. I looked at the screen for a moment seeing myself standing there with the LCW Heavyweight Championship around my waist. It had truly been a long time since I had accomplished a major achievement like that night. It had been years.

Sunday, January 19, 2014

I slammed my fist hard into the wall as blood dripped onto the floor. I withdrew my fist from the wall to find cut marks from the impact. Opening the fist a feeling of pain circulated through my right arm, but it quickly subsided as my body adapted to the pain.

It was the same feeling I was beginning to grow accustomed to. Despite the threat of being beaten and bruised I had always found a way to push the limit and prove myself worthy of being called a rising star in this business. I may have merely been an afterthought in the minds of many, but I was already starting to gain momentum in 2014. Despite the threat of losing the opportunity I had worked so hard to gain, I was very determined to prove the world wrong about me.

As Hunter Valentyne had so elegantly demonstrated I was not being considered to be one of the biggest threats in the ring. There were quite a few people in the business which would consider me a rather worthless or uninteresting opponent. A large number of people had entered Survive and Conquer under the assumption that they could become the next big thing. They were already making plans for how to spend the money and how they were going to celebrate their victory. That was a lot of confidence being built despite the overwhelming threat of accomplishing absolutely nothing.

I was fully aware of just how much of a bloodbath Survive and Conquer could become and what it would take to survive. A rumble match changed people and often times turned friends and family against each other. It was often the ultimate opportunity for both achievement and betrayal. Fortunately I have absolutely no friends or family in this business to join me in that ring. There was absolutely nothing stopping me from going absolutely berserk in that match. I was very interested in performing research in real time to identify the greatest weaknesses of those competing against me.

I was all alone for the most part. This little game my brother and I were playing was cute and all, but at the end of the day I had come to realize that most of his interest in my career was financial. He made his appearances when they were most convenient for him. It was something I was starting to become quite accustomed to given that I had been through three managers up until this point.

I was absolutely alone with everything to prove.

[williemacgregor]

Scene One
In the Pub.

The scene fades in to William Wallace sitting in the corner of pub with two pints sitting in front of him. He is currently on a call on his cell phone. “Aye, am up for that” he says and pauses while listening to the person on the other end. “German, that nah bother, big Gef will be delighted.” He replies and again he pauses. Gefahr, the William Wallace insurance policy comes into the shot and sits down next to Wallace. Wallace throws up to fingers and mouths the words two minutes to Gefahr who picks up one of the pints and begins to drink it while he waits. Again Wallace replies to the person on the phone. “Aye mate, that’s fine. Just have the plane tickets waitin for us at the airport an a will see you in a couple a weeks. Right C’yeh later” Once he has finished speaking he pulls the phone away from his ear and hangs up the call. He sits the phone on the table, picks up his pint and begins to drink as if nothing has happened. Gefahr is sitting staring at him in anticipation of Wallace telling him what is going on. The anticipation quickly turns to anger and Gefahr gives Wallace a little nudge on the arm. Wallace puts his pint down and begins to laugh.

Wallace: A have great news big man…yir goin home.

Gefahr moves back and looks a bit confused; he looks Wallace and growls for answers.

Wallace: Aye, we are goin to Germany, a have been accepted into this year’s Survive and Conquer and it is Munich, so you get to go home for a bit. Are you up for it?

Gefahr smirks at Wallace and picks up his pint, he hold it towards Wallace and the two clink their glasses and have a drink.

Wallace: A will take that as an aye then, will a.

The two continue drinking as the scene fades out.


Scene Two

The scene opens to a living room. The wall at the back of the room has a Saltire and a Lion Rampant hanging down and in front is a black leather sofa. There is a table at the side of the sofa with a bottle of Jonny Walker Black label Scotch, a glass with a little Scotch in it and a lit cigarette. William Wallace, wearing his usual kilt and t-shirt, is sitting on the sofa reclined back looking at “Farming Monthly” as Gefahr stands just behind the table with his arms folded looking as menacing as ever.
Wallace lowers the magazine and sits up a little looking over his shoulder to Gefahr.

Wallace: Check her out big man now that is a good lookin sheep. A’d destroy that. What do you think?

Wallace holds the magazine up for Gefahr to see, the big German looks disgusted and starts to shake his head.

Gefahr: Nein

Wallace pulls the magazine back down and has another look

Wallace: A wouldn’t say she was a nine, more like an eight. If you think she is a nine, you’d need an underwear change if a showed you ma ten.

Gefahr then nudges Wallace on the shoulder with the back of his hand, Wallace turns around and doesn’t look please the Gefahr had interrupted him. Gefahr points towards the camera and Wallace turns his head. He realises the camera is recording and shoots up in the recliner.

Wallace: Fuck…we can edit that part out mate, don’t worry about it, no one needs to find out about your attraction to sheep!

The magazine is quickly slammed down on the table as Wallace grabs the glass of Scotch. He finishes what is left in the glass and slams it back to the table before clearing his throat and setting himself to speak.

Wallace: Action Packed Wrestling, allow me to introduce ma self…a am William Wallace! Now before a get down to business a want to get some stuff out of the way. First, aye ma name is William Wallace an Naw it has nothin to do with Braveheart, Fuck Braveheart an fuck Mel Gibson, the washed up piece a shit. Second, if you are unaware of who a am an what a have done in this business, where the hell have you been for the last three years, Siberia? Get your pathetic arse on YouTube an get yourself educated.
Now to business, for the last three years a have sat back and watched Survive and Conquer unfold from this very sofa. Each year random nobody’s from “no one gives a fuck championship wrestling” or “I am only here to make up the numbers Entertainment” entering into one big cluster fuck of a match in the hope they are the lucky one to come out on top at the end of it, in the hope they are the one to walk away with the prize money, in the hope they can finally justify their shitty existence. For the last three years a have watched this all unfold however a have never been able to enjoy it because as a have been watchin only one thing goes through ma head, it repeats constantly…hell even after the match had finished it keeps goin. As a sit back to relax an enjoy Survive and Conquer the voices in ma head stop and all a can hear is “why don’t you enter?” A watched on as all these wrestlers took part in something huge but a couldn’t enjoy it because a knew it could be me. A knew a could do better than most of the idiots that appeared, a could out preform the majority, hell a believe a could have had a great chance at winnin the damn thing if only a had the motivation to drag ma arse of the couch an sign up. A am not to say the winners weren’t worthy winners, let’s be honest if you survive a battle royal with that many people involved and after it you are willing to put your body through the punishment of the Mark’s wet dream which follows, you deserve everything you get, but what annoys me is that it could have been me. Instead of tryin, instead of competin, instead of takin the chance a sat ma arse on the couch, a dranks some beer an a watched as someone else took the glory. Three years in a row a have seen someone else walk away the winner, three years in a row a have thought a can do that, an a can do it better, but a have never actually to the action to prove it. So finally a have put the beer down, a have dragged ma arse off the couch an a signed up. A have finally took the necessary steps to be involved, A will finally grace APW with my presence, an for the first time all you fans will see exactly what the APW has been missin all these years.

Wallace pauses for a minute, he opens up his sporran and reaches inside, pulling out a carton of cigarettes. He takes a cigarette and lights it before putting the carton back into his sporran. He continues to speak while puffing away.

Wallace: By entering into Survive and Conquer this year a will cross another item off my bucket list, not just by entering into the match, a match with such prestige attached to it, but also the fact that for the first time in my ten years as a professional wrestler, a get to wrestle in Germany. Not to mention it will be the first time in ma life a get to go to Germany an you better believe a will be takin part in all them touristy things. A will have a Frankfurter in Frankfurt, a will have a Hamburger in Hamburg, a will…have a munchkin in Munich? A dunno, a will think a somethin. All a know is a can’t wait to get over there. A have always felt a connection with the German people, maybe it is the fact that they also hate the English, or maybe a am just attracted to their efficiency, either way a can’t wait to finally step into the ring in the middle of the pitch in the Allianz Arena. The event will truly be another massive milestone for the arena, another impressive feat despite its short history. A fine stadium in the world of football, or soccer for the uneducated among you, it plays home to the mighty Bayern Munich, the champions of Europe. It was the venue for the Semi Final of the World Cup eight years ago, it played host to the Champions League final two years ago, not to mention playing host to the German national team on may occasions. There has been many massive football matches played out within that arena, but come Sunday January 26th it is time for one of the biggest events on the wrestling calendar to take center stage an a want to be the last man standing when it is all over. “Survive and Conquer winner 2014 William Wallace”, it just rolls off the tongue doesn’t it. It would be another impressive milestone for me too, another accolade to add to my already glittering career that’s for sure. Since my return to the business in 2011 a have held six World Championships, in some of the biggest promotions in the world, spanning two continents. A am a three time World Champion of WARPED Wrestling, one of the best independent promotions in America, it happens to be a title A have held that more than anyone else. A have held the GFC World Heavyweight Championship in Pro-Wrestling Frontier, one of the top Promotions in the UK, a title a won by winnin a battle Royal, rather similar to that of Survive and Conquer. Startin at number one and lastin all the way to the end. A was the last man standin that night, an a hope a will be the last man standin come Survive an Conquer too. Let’s take into consideration A have wrestled all over the world from the Tokyo dome in Japan, to the MGM Grand in Las Vegas to Hampden Park in Glasgow. A have done the lot, a could retire tomorrow an a still would have accomplished more than most in this business, a just want to put the cherry on top by adding Survive and Conquer to that list.

Wallace puts out his cigarette in the ash tray next to him and picks up his glass only to find it is empty. He throws the empty glass off into the corner and grabs the bottle of Scotch instead, he takes a couple of mouthfuls and offers it to Gefahr who stands almost motionless with his arms still folded. He slightly dips his head to look at Wallace before shaking it declining the offer. Wallace sits back in position and continues to speak.

Wallace: Ok so this year the format is a little different, a only need to go through twenty guys instead of the full eighty, but come one, doe that make it any easier? The four winners still get have to dust themselves off an pretty much fight to the death, somethin don’t have an issue with, a am throwin it out there, a will do what needs to be done to win. A am not goin to be that guy, a am not goin to sit here an guarantee victory, am not goin to tell you a will make it to the final four. There are too many competitors for that it makes it too difficult to tell. A am however in a better position to do it than a have been before. This year there will be no sittin on the couch, a am there to compete, a am there to put on a show. Bein honest, A would love to walk out the winner, but failin that a am just there to dish out as much punishment as humanly possible. A am out to make sure no one forgets the name of William Wallace. A will see you all in Germany.

Wallace winks at the camera and picks up his Farmers Monthly again reclining back on the sofa. After a few moments he realises the camera is still rolling, he sits up and stares confused at the camera.

Wallace: Gef, deal with that thing for me.

Wallace points towards the camera and Gefahr begins to walk towards it as Wallace again reclines back. Gefahr stands in front of the camera for a moment before he kicks it over and squashes it as we cut to static.


Scene Three
The Airport

We fade it to Glasgow airport inside the main terminal building. William Wallace is talking through the automatic doors wearing his wrestling gear. He is accompanied by Gefahr who is following behind carrying the bags. As they walk through the terminal building Wallace is approached by a TV reporter who begins to ask him question.

Reporter: Mr Wallace…

Wallace doesn’t look pleased as he turns around rolling his eyes.

Wallace: What?

Reporter: Are you heading out for Survive and Conquer?

Wallace: Naw, am goin to Disney Land son. Where the hell do you think am goin, of course a am headin out for Survive and Conquer. Me an the big man here are headin over to Germany, an Gef is goin to take me out for a change, he can show me the German night life.

Reporter: What do you think your chances of winning the match are and bringing that prize money back to Scotland.

Wallace: A have the same chance as everyone else, if a win, a win, if a don’t a don’t. but if a do, every penny of that prize money will go to my Scotch fund. A canny be kept goin with the stuff, it is like petrol for my body.

Reporter: And what are you looking forward to most about your trip.

Wallace: Eh? What have you been smokin son, a am goin to wrestle, what do you think am lookin forward to most? A’ve had enough a your pish, chase yirself, the pub is call in.

Gefahr pushes the camera away as Wallace walks off and we fade out.

[Speede]

January 4, 2014

We find ourselves in the home of Roy Speede; it’s a quaint, quiet little home back in the woods, probably somewhere you’d expect to see deer, raccoons, squirrels, and other furry little creatures, save for the layer upon layer of icy, frozen precipitation we term ‘snow’. Smoke rises out of a brick chimney that rests atop what almost resembles a cabin one might use to go camping, the foundation layered with stones and topped by a radiantly-painted brick-red wooden outer layer of wall, although it cannot be presumed from this angle whether there is more to it.

Turning around past a blue pickup truck with jacked up tires, the trees shimmer with frozen and icy white, and not even a leaf can be seen on the frozen, presumably hibernating trees until there, face to face, stands-

AHHHHHH!!

The infuriated face of a mountain man, beard scraggly and camouflaged hat stained from sweat can be seen front and center. A checkerboard-patterned jacket topped with a similarly camo hunting vest adorns him, and for a moment, this image lingers before the man chuckles, shakes his head, and speaks.

Man: Really? Why did you want to go for a walk out here in this cold? It’s like twenty degrees in the middle of nowhere! I mean, it’s not like we’re in Richmond anymore. We don’t get the heat effect of a big city when we’re living in the only home for about five miles in any direction. I get that you don’t like staying in the house all the time, but That’s a worse idea than when I accepted that open challenge from Kurt Noble on Overdrive.

--CUTAWAY!--

A clip of Kurt Noble hitting Roy Speede with the Noble Neckbreaker and subsequently pinning him on the first Overdrive of 2013 plays, lasting all of about five seconds before the image returns to that of the scruffy man who is, apparently, Roy Speede. A voice can be heard, and looking over past him is a brunette with rich, caramel-colored skin, dressed seemingly even more warmly than Roy is.

Woman: Well, I wouldn’t exactly say that; it’s kinda nice out here. And I’m not even layered with that horrible beard, either.

Roy Speede: Take that back! I LOVE MY BEARD!

Woman: It looks like it hasn’t been washed in days! I swear, you look more like a psycho killer from one of those old horror movies than a former professional wrestler.

Roy Speede: Former?! I’m STILL a professional wrestler, dammit! I’m just, well, you know, taking a break is all!

Woman: Uh huh, and that’s why you haven’t even been out of the house in a week, right? You’re SUPPOSED to be preparing for some big match or something, aren’t you?

Roy Speede: Geez, Ally, get off my case, will you? I’ve got like three weeks before that match! And should I really even expect to win? This is the Survive and Conquer match we’re talking about here. It’s one of the most hyped matches in the history of wrestling, and since it’s only a special event for the APW people, it might be the one of the last ones EVER. Hell, it might be THE last one. I’m just glad to be in it and representing perhaps the greatest wrestling company I have ever worked for and will ever work for.

’Ally’: AKA, you’re sucking up to the boss in case he can hear you while you’re in the middle of the woods, hmmm?

Roy Speede: Allison DiLaurentis, shut your mouth!

’Ally’: For the last time, it’s Diaz. Allison DiLaurentis is one of the characters from that stupid teen drama you watch, what is it, liars, um… something Liars…

Roy Speede: Don’t you call Pretty Little Liars stupid! GOD is that one girl hot, though.

Allison Diaz: Which one?

Roy Speede: Um… uhh… yeah, all of them? Not gonna lie, I like that show.

Allison Diaz: You’re worse at staying on topic than Congress, you know that right?

--CUTAWAY!--

Jump to the image of Senate Majority and Minority Leaders Harry Reid and Mitch McConnell watching the Weather Channel and talking about golf; five seconds later, Roy and Ally are in their cabin, Ally sitting by the fireplace as Roy stands in what appears to be the kitchen area, microwaving… Something.

Roy Speede: Marshmallows?

Allison Diaz: I guess I’ll have a couple, but you shouldn’t even be having hot cocoa if you want to stay in shape for that match of yours.

Roy Speede: Will you cool it with the match already? I’m trying to enjoy my last week or so here before I have to travel to Germany and prepare for this match that I’m nervous about because I haven’t competed in a while, and here you are talking about me cutting back on the things I love. Why, if I weren’t afraid of breaking my hand and being unable to compete I’d punch a hole in the microwave, and you wouldn’t have any hot cocoa either!

He opens the microwave door and pulls out a purple, steaming hot mug with a brownish liquid inside. Plopping a couple marshmallows into the cup he turns toward Ally and starts across the room.

Allison Diaz: Geez, sorry Roy. I’m just trying to look out for you.

Roy Speede: If you were looking out for me, you’d tell me more about is in this match against me so I know who to prepare for.

Allison Diaz: You mean you don’t know?

Roy Speede: Well, I did read the names, but I’m going to let my past experiences with some of the better competitors settle this for me rather than spending all my time watching footage or looking up stats. I don’t want to be stressing out about it and find I’ve gotta go up against Jesus in the first round or something.

--CUTAWAY!--

Jump to a shot of Jesus, yes, the biblical Jesus, in boxing shorts and boots with a fancy, flashy boxing jacket on and boxing gloves, swaying from side to side like Muhammad Ali.

Jesus: What? Don’t blame me. I’m just comic relief because Roy said something ridiculous.

Return to Roy handing Ally her cup of cocoa and walking down the hallway toward his room. He opens the door, and there on the bed sits his cousin, Alex Haden, with a box of chocolate coated snack cakes in his hand and smeared brown chocolate stain into his beard.

Roy Speede: ALEX! What the hell? Get out of my room!!

Alex Haden: Oh my god, Roy, these Chocodiles. These Chocodiles, Roy, oh my god, Roy, these Chocodiles, oh my god.

Roy Speede: Yeah, they’re good. That’s why I hide them from you. Now GET OUT OF HERE!!

Roy crosses the room at a rushed pace and grabs Alex by the collar of his shirt, dragging him hastily off the bed and causing him to drop the box of snack cakes as he throws Alex out of the room and slams the door particularly loudly, locking it behind him and going over to his computer, moving the mouse and turning on the monitor to see that it was still left on, and that of all things loaded up, it appears to be some sort of porn website.

Roy Speede: DAMMIT ALEX!! I SAID NO PORN!!

From outside the door, Alex starts singing at the top of his lungs.

Alex Haden: The Internet is for porn! The Internet is for porn! Why you think the net was born? PORN, PORN, PORN!

Roy sighs, clicks out of the porn website, and gets up, crossing the room and opening the door only to see Alex standing there, and he tries to push into the room. Roy pushes him back and then grabs him by the collar as he walks across the hall, opening a door and finding the bathroom where he grabs a box of sanitary wipes. Roy yanks Alex back and rushes into his room, again closing and locking the door before pulling out one of the baby wipes and scrubbing down his keyboard, mouse, and then the frame around the screen of his computer in an attempt to not have to deal with the nasty things one can imagine might exist on the computer’s exterior.

Upon tossing the wipe away, a few clicks and some typing later, and Roy pulls up his webcam software to record a video. Another click, and a little red light shines on the webcam, and Roy leans back in his chair, taking a deep breath and sighing before even opening his mouth.

Roy Speede: Greetings to anyone who may actually care enough to be watching this video right now. It’s yours truly, Roy Speede, here with another exciting edition of ‘The Silver Lining’, seasons one through three now available on DVD and Blu-Ray, and uh, it looks like in another week or so, I’ll be traveling halfway around the world to Munich to prepare myself for the upcoming Survive and Conquer match, and as of now, I’m not stressing out about it; I’m not gonna lie, I doubt I even know half the guys competing in this match, and I heard the way they were running it this year is different, but rather than freak out and find out I’ve got to pin my opponents one by one to eliminate them or something, I’m just going to figure out the setup once I cross the Atlantic.

And yeah, I’ve got a bit of a different tactic planned this year, since this year it’s in Germany this year… I’m going to say everything from now until after the match in German! *Fick YEAH!

Okay, I was kidding. I don’t know German. But I gotta get a laugh in somewhere, right? Anyway, I guess since I’m going to be traveling to Munich in about a week, I’m going to wait until then to learn how this match is set up. And since I’m waiting to learn about the setup, I’m not wasting my time memorizing the list of people in the match against me; some names I’m expecting are the big guns, Terry Marvin, Aubrey J. Parker, Jason Kash, AC Smith, maybe even Kurt Noble, but I guarantee that even as many people as are in this match, I probably only recognize about twenty names to begin with. As of right now, I literally know as much about how this match is set up as Jed Clampett does about speaking Spanish.

--CUTAWAY--

Jed Clampett, the very same guy from The Beverly Hillbillies, is sitting on his porch trying to communicate with a Hispanic child.

Jed Clampett: What do you mean **‘yo k-ro l aqua’? What the heck does that mean? GRANNY?! DO YOU SPEAK SPINACH?

The recording refocuses on Roy, who by this point is hunched over his computer with his face closer to the webcam than he probably had intended.

Roy Speede: But since it’s in like two weeks from now, I’ll just give it time. I’ll learn what I can when I get there, and until then, I’m just going to enjoy my winter weather. So until next week, folks, Roy Speede signing off.

He powers off the computer and takes the remaining Chocodiles, still in their box, hiding them in the drawer of his nightstand before going to the door and exiting the room, a mild jump of surprise when Alex isn’t actually standing outside the door looking for more snack cakes. Walking past, the scene fades.

---

January 11, 2014

A rushed Roy Speede, who appears to have finally shaven off his beard and trimmed his hair, rushes through the airport terminal with his two traveling companions, Ally and Alex, in hot pursuit, bags in their hands and an urgent look about them, weaving in and out of other travelers in Home Alone 2: Lost In New York style.

Roy Speede: Hurry up, guys! You don’t wanna be like Macaulay Culkin, do you?

Alex Haden: I don’t (GASP) know (GASP) He dated (GASP) Mila (GASP) Kunis!

Roy Speede: So did Ashton Kutcher! Do you really want to date someone with such a horrible taste in women?

Alex Haden: But (GASP) She’s SO (GASP) So hot!

Roy Speede: So? You don’t see me accepting roles in pirate movies so I can date Miranda Kerr, do you?

Allison Diaz: HA! Orlando Bloom joke!

Roy Speede: HURRY UP, DAMMIT!

Roy finally gets to the check-in counter and his breathing catches up to him, heavy as the other two file in, Ally well ahead of Alex who is quite out of shape.

Roy Speede: Are we too late for (deep breath) our plane to Germany?

Attendant: No, sir, you’re right on time. We’re about to announce our last call for boarding, now.

The three check in their bags, and then file into the loading bay, walk across the ramp, and onto the huge air-liner, searching for their seats with their carry-ons.

Allison Diaz: That was way too close for comfort, hombres.

Yep, that signature Diaz Spanish accent.

Roy Speede: You’re telling me? That was closer than the final score of Super Bowl Forty-Three.

--CUTAWAY--

A snapshot of a newspaper showing the Pittsburgh Steelers holding their super bowl trophy with the score, 27-23, outlined and a shot of Santonio Holmes’ winning touchdown catch with less than a minute left just below it. However, the focus on inside the airplane, the three travelers in their seats, returns a few seconds later.

Alex Haden: Hey, it’s Super Bowl Ex-El-Ai-Ai-Ai, say it right.

Allison Diaz: Or you can just avoid it, since you know I’m a Cardinals fan.

Roy Speede: No, I was saying that because it was an amazing game. It sucks that they lost, but my inner Steelers fan loved it, at least...

Allison Diaz: Your inner Steelers fan, yeah, yeah, whatever. Shut up, Roy.

Silence sets in for a few seconds.

Alex Haden: And now, THIS!

---

Upon checking into the hotel room, Roy, Ally, and Alex had all made their way up to their room and found that it was perfectly quaint, but Alex, never one to stay in the same room for very long, decided to go out and do something more entertaining; after all, Germany was a once in a lifetime trip for some, and it seemed Ally had the same idea, because now, both of them were out of the room and leaving Roy to his own peace of mind in the hotel room, leaving him to his own thoughts, and all that seemed to happen was a lot of internet browsing via laptop and a couple of stray phone calls without much real conversation.

But, after some time, however, Roy finally turned on the webcam of his laptop and started another recording.

Roy Speede: Good evening; live from Munich, Germany, this is Roy Speede, the one and only Silver Lining, and a proud representative of APW in the upcoming Survive and Conquer match. I’ve done some research, made a few phone calls, figured out more about this match, and I’m pleased to announce that I’m going to be a part of group one in the group stage of this match, and I sit here and speak to all my fans out there with great confidence going into this thing because I know that, in addition to being a part of a group with several other notable names from the wrestling world, I’ve also got the opportunity, upon winning the group stage, to get the most rest and the longest break before going on to the final.

Now, I will admit that it’s a little arrogant of me to automatically be assuming I’ll move on to the final, and in reality, it won’t be an easy task by any stretch of the imagination, and in all reality, the odds of me actually winning this thing are like… I think 80:1 is the proper ratio if I give everyone the same chance, but I’d bet people are looking at me and saying ‘this kid? What a loser! Six hundred to one!’ And you know what I’d do? I’d shell out the money and take those sorts of bets every single time, because I’m Roy Speede, and that’s just what I do.

Now, for reality’s sake, let’s just take a list at some of the names from the group I got thrown into, shall we? I’m not talking about the guys who nobody has ever heard of before like Lawrence Blackburn or Sir Lionel de Montclair, err… Montbar, whatever it is. I’m talking about the people I’ve heard of, the people you all have heard of, the people who actually have made a name for themselves in the past, people like Amy Zing, people like James Stall, people like Stefan Raab even.

Looking at the group I’m in, there are a few names here that are clearly a cut above the rest, and I’d like to think of myself as one of them. However, among those names that stand out are a few APW megastars from its glorious past such as Amy Zing, Stefan Raab, and AC Smith, all APW Champions during their careers, and two of them even champions at the close of the company. All three are formidable opponents and all three are truly megastars, and it would be marvelous to see any one of the three hold their arms high in victory upon winning the Survive and Conquer match. However, every opponent has their flaws, and in the case of these three, it is a variety of things.

Looking at these three, I see their pride, their confidence, their ‘swagger’ if you will, and I realize that they’re all weakened by their physical inabilities such as size and strength or their emotional and mental capacity for competing be it pride or pity, and while I would love to congratulate any of them for coming out victorious, I know that it just won’t happen.

Then, there are the names that stand out from this group because of the legacy surrounding them beyond the APW’s ropes but have name recognition because they are superstars from elsewhere; I look at only my group, and names stand out like Rex Evans, Paradox McSweeney, Jack Benevolence, and James Stall, and I feel… Slightly intimidated, actually. All four of these guys on their own are formidable opponents, but all four in the same ring at once would make some of the weaker wrestlers shit their pants. Taking a look at this list of names, I can’t help but wonder who out of the group will actually be moving on to the finals because, while all four are great wrestlers, they are only a small group of the guys in this match, and even a small portion of the Group One wrestlers. What I want to know, who will survive, and who will conquer this one lone group.

I look through the names, and deep down, I have a gut instinct that it will be me, Roy Speede, who pulls through in the dark of night because, straight up when I get the chance to show my stuff I’m more impressive than Barry Bonds before the steroid injections.

--CUTAWAY--

Barry Bonds is sitting on the bench in the Giants’ Locker room with a needle in his arm injecting… something… with a syringe. He looks up at the camera.

Barry Bonds: WHAT ARE YOU LOOKING AT? GET THAT CAMERA OUT OF MY FACE! SECURITY!!!

The sound of Roy’s scream draws attention back to him.

Roy Speede: WHOA! NO! NO, NO, NO! I said cut the feed before that, damn computer! Geez!!

Sorry, where were we? Ahh, yes, The Silver Lining winning Group One and going on to the final four. I’m not in the least bit certain about it, but I’m very confident about my success in this match, and in the case that I do go on to the final of perhaps the most significant match of my career, I’m looking forward to knowing just who I’ll be going up against in the final.

Group Two is especially fascinating for me because, unlike my own group, I can honestly say that I don’t see any real big-name threats from that group. Sure, there’s Gordon Fury, there’s El Lobo Grande, there’s Elizabeth Devereaux, who I recognize more significantly from my past as a girl named Apathy. But seriously, who in this group stands a chance at taking out the Group One winner, or the Group Three winner, or the Group Four winner? I can honestly say that not a single soul in this group has impressed me in the past, and out of this group, any of the competitors, no matter the name, advancing to the finals will be as significant as any of them will ever get. I’ll give them credit, making it into the finals is no laughing matter no matter who you are, but a winner will not be coming out of group two, or at least I’d imagine; there are a few names here, but nobody who I couldn’t get past.

Group Three looks like it’d be a lot of fun to compete in, seeing as among its competitors are several people from APW’s past, and a couple names from my past. Looking through this group on paper, I see Jordan Caliban, a guy who I met at an event for a former company of mine who I think said he was about to ink a contract with APW when they shut down, Delikado, the man I faced to attempt to earn a spot on the Overdrive roster back in early 2013, and Aubrey J. Parker, who I competed against when trying to win the APW Tag Titles way back when. Granted, those are just a few names that I’ve had experience with, but other big names like Reya Serra, Adrien Specter, and Diego De La Vega, who all have made big strides with other companies, exist in this group, and several of these competitors have an opportunity to go far. Even looking beyond the people I know, I see a few names that just stand out as great ring names for potentially grand wrestlers, and I’d love to go up against a guy like The Nameless or Prince Wadjethotep in the final. Group Three looks pretty formidable, and it’d do APW proud to get past all these guys and into the winner’s circle.

Group Four is incredibly dangerous, and I wouldn’t be surprised if the winner, despite the least rest of any of the four group winners, was the guy or girl who pulled out the victory in the whole thing. Doug E. Fresh, Rowyn Starr, Aurora Jansen, MDK, Jason Kash, Johnny Knuckles… The big names in this group are endless, and the accomplishments some of these guys have made in the past are mere stepping stones toward a victory in a match as big as this. I’m telling you this, going up against any one of these competitors in the final would make for a huge final, and whether it’s an APW Megastar or a competitor from some other company stepping into the final, this group’s champion will be tough to beat, but I look forward to being the guy to do it.

He sets the laptop down, and the antsy Roy Speede begins to pace about the hotel room.

Roy Speede: I’m so excited for this match in two weeks, I can’t even sit down, but while changing my sleep schedule and preparing myself so differently for this match is going to be a challenge, competing in this thing is going to be an even bigger challenge, and one I looking forward to meeting, because in the end, I came, I’m ready to Survive and Conquer, and I’m ready to win this for APW. And that is the Silver Lining.

The door bursts open.

Alex Haden: Who ate all the Pecan Sandies?!

[blackdeath]

Survive and Conquer

Growth

Xianlong was sitting on the mat of his Martial Arts School . He was sitting in lotus position , with his eyes close , he is shirtless wear black sweat pants and no shoes, his hands are resting on his knees. He same to be meditating at the moment. He is breathing is calm, his face serene and he opens his eyes and begins to speak.

Xianlong: Stars rise and than fall, this is not surprising. Many of them do not understand themselves, so after their failure, they will feel dishearten. They should ask themselves if they had any substantial reason to support their success, or if they succeeded through luck. If they are willing to calm down and reexamine themselves, they will feel better. But it’s been my experience that not many stars are like this. When they succeed, they are blind , thinking that they are the greatest star in the worlds. So, in the end , when the god of luck leaves them, they feel unfortunate.

My name is Xianlong , I was born in a small village in China, I do not remember my parents , for as long as I could remember I was raised in a temple by monks. I spent the first 18 years of my life trying to reach the final level , to reach perfection. Now you may ask what is perfection. It is reaching harmony, making your mind , body and soul become one. I spent the first 19 years of my life , training , reading , keeping my body pure , because I believe that it would help my achieve that goal. But I was only half right . The way that I life only bought me half way to my goal. It took me meeting a man from a different land , A man that live in the world of violence, in world of hate , man that also look to achieve my goal to show me that my way was not the complete way. His name was James Wallace , He convince me that one can not reach perfection without living life , You can not hide away from life . But you must embrace it , each part is connected , there is no good without bad, no darkness without light , no peace without violence . So he brought me to America , He help me open my school , because teaching can open one soul , we are here on this earth to pass down knowledge , that is how we grow as a person and as a species . You pass on our knowledge and make the world a better place when we leave than when we came in. He also help me get into wrestling, I need to forge my body , hammer it into a sword. I had to be like a piece of steel , heated and hammer, shaped and molded correctly. That what brings me to this match

I was told about this Survive and Conquer match by James , who was in the event last year. He told me it was a great test of ones skills , You face so many different and strange opponents . It is an event that has to be experience least once . So I decided to sign up for it and test my skills . I will be honest I have not been in the wrestling business very long and I do not see myself winning this match . There are to many great wrestlers for me to prevail , but that is not the reason that I am in the match . Winning is not the end all be all of me . It about growth , about perfection , To grow , to discover , we need involvement which is something s I experience everyday , sometimes good , sometimes bad . You can not fear the unknown , you can not let something that same undulating stop you , I know my limitations at the moment , but you have to constantly push them . I will fight will all the hear t and skill that I can muster . I will not back down and I will not quit . They men and women will fins me a tough person to beat and I will grow from this experience as the better person. Maybe one day in the future I will win this thing , but in the end I will be the better man for in this match . I do want to leave every with this words …

Defeat is a state of mind; no one is ever defeated until defeat has been accepted as a reality

[Paradox]

“Though Specters of your Shame are Legion, Blades are out for recompense,
Your Fury’s Fresh, it Shields you from the Burden of Benevolence,

Nameless masses drag their Knuckles, quite content to Creep and Bash,
Whilst Hardy souls and Violent Men want Starr status or dirty Kash,

Your Faith is an Enigma, Vycious Stryfe defines your Destiny,
To Stall would be Anathema to you, a Madman’s remedy,

If you endure the melee it could prove to be a Rotten Treat,
For cages Smith’d from steel can Herald much the bloodier defeat,

But scale the heights with Speede and Zion’s Waters will be visible,
Even if your street fighting credentials are quite risible,

From there you go to hell and on the ladder Brave Hearts fear to step,
Nothing could be worse, but finding rhymes for Prince Wadjehotep,

To bathe in the Aurora of your conquest would be glorious,
The Amber Sands of paradise await you if victorious,

But Watts the matter, are you merely opening Pandora’s box?
Survivors make for bigger targets – therein lies the Paradoooooooox!”

(With an emphatic mashing of piano keys, the song – sung capably to the tune of “A Modern Major General” by SCW’s Vegas Champion Paradox McSweeney - is brought to a close. Red-faced and breathless, the man with the apparently limitless gas-tank tosses away a lyric sheet and slumps down on the threadbare couch that now takes up at least a third of what remains of his tiny Las Vegas apartment, once you account for the full-sized piano that currently dominates the room. How it even got in there is a mystery, although several deep gouges in the flaking off-white paintwork of the walls – and the ragged, splintered edges of the piano itself - provide clues.)

”That was nice… but there are still forty-one names missing from the song.”

(The voice coming from behind the piano is a soft, halting Quebecoise, at once beautiful and somehow out of place in almost any setting – much, in fact, like its owner, with her snub nose and deliberately unfashionable hair serving only to accentuate her exotic good looks. Mallory Robideaux may have enjoyed a very brief tenure on SCW’s camera crew but since her dismissal and subsequent re-hiring as part of McSweeney’s personal media crew, she has been an almost constant fixture at the side of the Vegas Champ, despite his almost complete lack of need for media support. That nobody quite fully knows why is a testament to the evolution of a man who once thought “privacy” meant switching off the night vision filter on the bedroom cameras.)

”If they wanted to be in the song, they should have chosen names that mean something. Besides, there are EIGHTY of us in there and I want to have SOME breath remaining for the actual match. Breathing being generally considered a positive in this type of contest, you understand.”

(Mallory giggles at this, in turn bringing a smile to Dox’s face – an easy, genuine grin that has returned in recent months, after what seemed an eternal absence.)

”Alright, but I still think that if you can find a rhyme for ‘Wadjehotep’, you can come up with SOMETHING for Rex Evans or Arkia Fisk.”

”True, but it’s well established that I already created the best possible Rex Evans pun like three months ago. Any more at this stage would just be overkill.”

(Paradox gets up off the couch and walks towards the apartment’s kitchen area, miming drinking a bottle of water and glancing over at Mallory, who nods in response. Dox has to force himself between the wall and the ridiculous, mangled piano to get there and as he squeezes through, Mallory casually fires off a question that stops him in his tracks.)

”What will you do with all that money?”

(McSweeney pauses, pinned between wall and piano, his expression momentarily entirely vacant. Of course his expression is often vacant, but this time it’s because he’s deep in thought.)

”The money?”

”Yes of course the money, the million dollars for winning the match, silly! I mean, whatever is left after your mother takes her share, obviously.”

(Dox’s squints thoughtfully, his lips moving slightly as if processing something immensely difficult. With a grunt, he forces himself free of the piano’s deathgrip and into the kitchen – clearly, this is the kind of thinking that can only be done whilst unhindered by an inappropriate percussion section.)

”Actually… my mother is entitled to her cut from my salary, from any royalties I earn on DVD sales and the like, to almost every penny of my merchandise sales, to appearance fees from specific events… to half my cut from Pay Per View revenues… Jesus… Mal, pass me the papers I keep in my laptop case, please.”
(His politeness is underpinned by a real sense of urgency and after a brief rummage, the papers are produced. Dox scans what are obviously legal contracts, his eyes shuttling rapidly from line to line and then over again to check for anything he missed. After what must be a fourth reading, he drops the papers on the kitchen worksurface and speaks in a leaden monotone, the jovial charm of moments earlier a distant memory.)

”There’s not a word here about prize money from winning one-off events. Not a single damn word.”

”So that means…”

”…that means if I win, every penny of that million dollars goes to me.”

(Mallory’s eyes light up and her hands fly to the sides of her face in unalloyed delight at this statement.)

”That’s amazing! We could move… (Dox catches her eye and she immediately blushes bright red, then takes a moment to compose herself before continuing)… I mean, YOU could move out of this horrible apartment, maybe even buy your mother out of the contract… or hire lawyers to pick it apart… Dox, if you win this match, you could buy your FREEDOM! Oh why didn’t you check this out before, it’s such great…”

(She trails off as she catches McSweeney’s ashen face and troubled expression.)

”…news. Dox, what’s wrong? This is an amazing opportunity, why aren’t you happy.”

(Seeming to ignore the question, Paradox finally picks up his bottle of water and another for Mallory, forces his way back past the piano and takes a seat on the couch. He sits in silence for a while, eyes downcast, lips moving silently, processing. Just as Mallory seems about to finally break the silence, he does so himself.)

”Ever since I came back last year, I’ve had no reason to step in the ring except to prove that I was better than whoever they put across from me. Even when things got personal with that piece of human refuse Adrien Specter, even then it was about the wrestling… for the first time in my life, I had a focus that was PURE. There was no reality show, no internet series, no ridiculous pursuit of “glamour”… with that hateful shrew leeching away my income, I had no distractions, no excuses! Why do you think I haven’t lost since September? It’s not because I’m a better wrestler than I was a year ago, it’s because I’m JUST a wrestler now! I thought I could go into Survive and Conquer like that, with no bullshit, no distractions… and now I’ve got THIS hanging over me…”

(Mallory leans her head to one side, quizzically regarding her… friend, partner, employer, whatever the relationship may be… then seems to reach a conclusion.)

”Then it is easy… you take the money out of the equation. Promise that if you win, you give it all to a charity of your choice, Amnesty International or the Free Chelsea Manning fund, say… then you are free from the stress of fighting for money… TA DA!

(She smiles and makes a jazz-hands gesture to underline this exclamation and Paradox can’t help but chuckle slightly at the endearing gesture, but his gloom soon descends once more.)

”Thanks, but that doesn’t change a lot… even if I do that, then losing means the money goes to whatever moron or psychopath goes on to win the match, instead of my chosen charity. I’m just swapping the pressure to take back my own life for the pressure to do something for others.”

(Silenced by this doom-laden statement, Mallory looks away awkwardly, then searches for a way to change the subject. After trying and failing a few times, she rolls her eyes, mouths the words “screw it” and launches into a surprisingly ferocious diatribe.)

”You know, ever since you grew a social conscience, you’ve become such a freaking HIPSTER.”

(Her Quebecoise accent makes this last word come out as “Eep-Stair”, which would be hilarious if not for the genuine fury of its delivery. Dox looks to respond but she cuts him off before he gets a word out. When she speaks, it is in a bizarrely accurate imitation of McSweeney’s own coarse South Manchester accent.)

”I’m too cool to ‘ave normal problems any more, I’ve got meta-problems, innit? Just ‘lacking confidence’ is so two-thousand and four, I’ve taken it to a whole new level. Making the excuse that I’m no longer without excuses, that’s bloody genius, no wonder everyone suddenly accepts me as some kind of left-wing intellectual, even though I was doing Britney routines on an ice-rink in a jungle full of Z-listers eighteen months ago.”

(Dox’s eyes narrow and he fixes Mallory with a piercing stare. She holds his gaze defiantly for a moment but then the rage drains out of her and suddenly she’s nervous, trying and failing not to look down and away. After the nineteenth or twentieth long dramatic pause of the afternoon, Paradox speaks.)

Actually… it was more like twenty months.

And my Britney routine is GOLD.

(The tension is broken and they both break out in peals of unbridled laughter, filling the room with their mirth as the scene fades out.)

---

19th January 2013. The village of Kirchtrudering, near Munich, Germany.

(The camera joins Paradox in front of a small memorial, a traditional depiction of Jesus on the cross set between two fir trees. The trees are dusted with snow and a bitter wind can be heard howling in the background – Dox is wrapped up against the cold in a thick grey woollen coat and matching scarf, along with gloves and a hat pulled down tightly around his ears. He smiles to someone just off camera and then motions for them to zoom in on the memorial itself. At the base of the plaque that bears a few sentences in German and English. The English words read as follows:)

"In the memory of the victims of the air disaster of 6.2.1958 including members of the football team of Manchester United as well as all the victims from the municipality of Trudering".

(With great effort and shivering from the cold, Paradox rolls up the right sleeve of his coat and reveals a small, stylised red devil tattoo, bordered with the letters “MUFC”, symbolising his support for the soccer team whose players were decimated in the air crash that is commemorated here. Once this has had time to sink in, he speaks directly to the camera.)

”You know, growing up supporting Manchester United, it was pretty much gospel that the crash here was the single most tragic occurrence in the history of air travel. In fact, it wasn’t until about twenty minutes ago, when I first set eyes on this memorial up close, that I started to question if… maybe there was ANOTHER time when a whole lot of Englishmen flew to Munich and it ended in tragedy. To question if maybe that OTHER thing was a hell of a lot more significant than the one that happened to affect a sports team I’ve cheered for. Why didn’t I question this before? Is it that all my life, I’ve been too incredibly shallow to appreciate the difference between a few dozen lives lost in an accident and a few thousand lost in a brutal global war and SUDDENLY, in the last half hour, I’ve become a better person? No, of course not. It’s simply because sometimes, human beings need the proper cue to make them re-examine certain perspectives.

You see, just as I thought that this sleepy village, just miles from the Allianz Arena, was the site of the greatest tragedy in the history of mankind until I came here and actually thought about it, I also THOUGHT I was over the idea of wrestling for any reason other than to be the best in the world, until I became aware of the opportunity to reclaim my life.  Because the fact is that however much somebody claims to be over their material obsessions, we ALL have our price and lets be honest, for most of us that price is a good sight less than one million dollars US.

So I have to decide... do I let that dangling carrot of financial independence distract me from my goal to defeat and eclipse the greatest names this sport has ever seen, or do I let it drive me on, more so than ever?  That's not a question I can answer on the microphone, not even to myself.

But at least I know I'm not going to be alone out there, struggling with new perspectives.  Take my old friend and ally, Doug E. Fresh, over in the third group.  Doug is the last of everything.  It's kind of his "thing" - last True Expert, last CWC champion, last CWC tag champion - although I got a share of that dubious honour myself - Doug wins something, and then that thing dies.  Only... APW is already dying, openly and with as much dignity as anything can muster in this business.  So now he's challenged not to take something that's at its peak and slowly drain the life out of it until it withers and expires, but instead to take something already in its death throes and revitalise it, even if only for one last glorious flowering.  Can he bring energy as well as entropy?  We'll find out.

Then there are the likes of Jack Benevolence, the Monster of Siberia, the man Doug drove to outright madness and the man who denied ME my chance to reign as True Expert when he closed the doors of that jail house for good.  Men like M.D.K, another tyrant... in a weird way I owe my place here to him because without the humiliation I suffered at the hands of that irredeemable prick, I would never have pushed myself as far as I have in this business.  These men have spent there lives questioning the right of others to intrude upon their world but now, THEY are the intruders. This world is no longer their own and now they're forced to fight not to assert dominance but simply to claim their place within it. How the hell does a mind like that even process that scenario.

As for the rest, they'll each bring their own perspectives and leave with new ones but the one change that will be universal, is in the way they see ME.  Because whoever comes out of that cage bloody, broken and triumphant next weekend at the Allianz, whoever stoops to conquer, NOBODY will look at me again and see the nearly-man who does not belong with the very greatest names in this industry. 

(The scene fades out as Paradox walks away from the scene, scratching his arm where the red devil tattoo sits.)

[Kaji Fireson]

Lawrence Blackburn
(voiceover)
My name is Lawrence Blackburn, and I'm not your typical professional wrestler.[/div][/color]

The scene opens on an image that would seem to contradict Lawrence's initial statement. He's in the middle of a large weight room. He is dressed in a skin hugging gold-colored tanktop and shorts-length tights, also gold. His skin is pleasantly colored, a lightly tanned complexion gleaming much like his tights without washing them out. The uniformity of color in his attire makes any other color stand out, particularly the green of his eyes, which is the point that the cameras are centered on at the moment. They are surrounded by a frame of healthy, shining blond hair which make the emerald hues pop even more.

Lawrence Blackburn
I'm certain that I look like one, and that is not by mistake or coincidence. I don't aim specifically for "professional wrestler," but I spend a lot of time and effort keeping myself in the best physical condition. This is typical. What I think sets me apart, however, is the fact that I spend just as much time on mental and emotional conditioning.

Lawrence rolls out of the ring and the cameras follow him out of the weight room and into the hallway. On the other side of the double door entrance to what you’d expect the main area of a gym to be, we find something that looks less like a gym and more like a school. The hallway itself has tile floors and walls of that off-white supersized brick that you remember from high school. The doors also evoke this image, as they are nicely finished wooden doors with those vertical window slats in them so you can see through them into the room behind. On the other side of these windows, some of the rooms seem to fit the theme of a gym fairly well; in a couple of rooms, patrons are practicing yoga. Behind another is a room that looks like a mix between the home ec classroom and a chemistry lab. This room is helpfully labeled “Nutrition.” It’s very well equipped, though what exactly they are doing to further their knowledge of nutrients and how they work in the human body is a story for another day.

Some other rooms are definitely more school-like. Several are even set up like typical high school classrooms, with about twenty desks arranged in front of a whiteboard. The uses for these rooms vary from the typical to the unorthodox. (Given their place inside a...gym? you can decide for yourself whether History and Use of Herbal Supplements or Survey of English Literature After 1500 would count as typical or unorthodox.)

Lawrence takes a right after the English Lit class and enters a shorter hallway. On the right, after the first classroom ends, there are two doors to what look like a school head’s office; a cushy chair and a sofa for if more than one person will be using the study, a fireplace, and lots of bookshelves populated with books on all sorts of different topics, and for the fiction section, all imaginable genres. However, Lawrence enters neither of these, hooking left into the single door found there. When the camera picks up the sign on the door, it’s no surprise he went this way.

Lawrence Blackburn
Owner

Lawrence enters his office, which has a few bookshelves of its own, but is anchored by a large desk in the middle of the room. He picks up a collared shirt that is laying there and slips it on over his lycra top. It’s white, but it’s clearly layered, as we can’t really see the gold top under it.


Lawrence Blackburn
As you can see, I do my best to foster a culture not just of physical fitness, but of mental and emotional well-being. That’s why I don’t like to refer to my businesses as gyms. Occasionally I’ll slip and call them fitness centers, which is fine since I encourage mental fitness, but I prefer “well-being facility.”

Lawrence has been standing behind his desk, but now pulls a beige jacket off the chair and slips it on as well. He then sits down in the chair.


Lawrence Blackburn
If someone walks into my building, it’s because they want to improve themselves, and I don’t know of anywhere else that they can do that in such a comprehensive fashion than here. I hope to eventually have facilities all over the world, but for now I’m happy to have the two that I have now.

Lawrence is rummaging around down below the desktop with something. We can’t see what he’s searching for, but after a couple of distinctive hops in his desk chair, we can see that he has pulled on a pair of khaki slacks, meaning he’s now dressed professionally for whatever he encounters next.


Lawrence Blackburn
Now some have already accepted that I’m different than a typical professional wrestler just based on my desire to improve strangers’ lives, but I am hardly the only person in the industry that feels that way or pursues this. What sets me apart from them?

Lawrence pauses for a beat or two, then shrugs.


Lawrence Blackburn
Nothing, really. I’m in a loving relationship with my girlfriend, my parents are supportive, if eccentric to most outsiders’ eyes, and despite what I fully admit was a terrifically mediocre run in my short time in Sin City Wrestling, I was pretty pleased with my time in the business.

The sound of someone clearing their throats is heard from somewhere behind the camera.


Lawrence Blackburn
What is it, Stephen?


Stephen Wright
(off-camera)
I don’t have much experience, but that seems pretty atypical to me.

Lawrence smiles.


Lawrence Blackburn
Alright, fair enough.

Lawrence takes a moment to grin and nod to Stephen, straightening his jacket while he does to give the people watching the video something to look at while he does.


Lawrence Blackburn
So I guess that means I am something of an oddity in professional wrestling, but that hardly makes me better at wrestling. In fact, the safe bet is that I am quite a bit worse at wrestling because I’ve done so little of it, and accomplished all of nothing in the short time I was a wrestler.

Well, those people will easily forget that you don’t have to be an active competitor to train in wrestling. I still spend at least two days a week training with an amateur wrestler and a practitioner of Brazilian Jiu-Jitzu who hopes to get into MMA. He has good striking and grappling. If only he could learn to focus more, he’d be a real threat.

But that’s beside the point. The point is that I train regularly in skills that will benefit me in a professional wrestling ring. So if there is anyone who saw what I did in the ring in Vegas and thought “That guy could really be something,” well that hasn’t gone away just because I’m no longer signed with SCW. I have actually been thinking about going back.


Stephen Wright
(off-camera)
Really?


Lawrence Blackburn
Sure. It’s little more than idle consideration, but having Wildcard to look forward to every week gave me something to break up the routine. That’s not to say I couldn’t lead a fulfilling life without wrestling professionally, but I feel like I could reach so many more people when I was being shown on television every week.


Stephen Wright
(off-camera)
So you liked the free advertising?

Lawrence chuckles.


Lawrence Blackburn
That certainly helped, but no. I enjoyed the competitive nature of the matches themselves--

Stephen snorts; Lawrence raises an eyebrow.


Lawrence Blackburn
What?


Stephen Wright
(off-camera)
If there was anyone that thought you were normal before, they certainly don’t now.


Lawrence Blackburn
There are others that enjoy the competitive nature of professional wrestling.


Stephen Wright
(off-camera)
Yeah, well those people usually don’t enter big matches like Survive and Conquer, where the prize for winning is a million dollars. People who enter matches like that usually want the million bucks.


Lawrence Blackburn
Fair enough. I won’t lie, the million dollars would be nice, but I don’t know what I’d do with it. I am not wealthy enough to build a Scrooge McDuck pool of money, but I do well enough for myself. If I lose, it won’t be the end of the world for me.


Stephen Wright
(off-camera)
Well watch your back. There are 79 other people in this match, some from a dead federation, and I’d be willing to bet that at least a couple people in the match are desperate for the money to pay debts, or because they want to fill THEIR gold coin vat, or because they want 79 people to suffer and later consume copious amounts of alcohol and cocaine.


Lawrence Blackburn
Well there’s always that danger when you step into the ring. Even in a match with only myself and one other person, I always practiced conservative wrestling. Defensive wrestling?


Stephen Wright
(off-camera)
I don’t think that means what you mean.


Lawrence Blackburn
Well either way, that’s what I mean. When I’m wrestling I am always careful not to injure myself, or anyone I am in the ring with. It will be exceptionally difficult to do that after a while, as energy is drained and people get tired and I get tired, I’ll have to dig deep just to continue and survive. If I get to that point, I feel confident I can go the distance. I have not wrestled long matches before, but I have been honing my body and endurance for years and years. No one should count me out of the final stages of the match if I win my group rumble. I can keep going and going, so I will do my best not to hurt anyone, because I would not wish serious injuries on anyone, but I accept the possibility that someone will get hurt, and it might be by my hand. I will not do it on purpose, but if I’m put between a rock and a hard place, I’ll defend myself.


Stephen Wright
(off-camera)
Okay, you’re out of time. You need to go meet Beatrix in town.


Lawrence Blackburn
Okay. Well, just know this Group 1 participants. I’m aiming to defend myself and throw people over the top rope. I don’t want to hurt anyone, but if someone tries to hurt me, I will defend myself against it.

He straightens his jacket out again and walks out from behind the desk.


Lawrence Blackburn
Now for a nice dinner with my girlfriend. I’ll see you all later.