Group 3 RP's

[President Jeff]

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

1 RP, 4000 Word limit

Decker Watts Vs Tobias Burden Vs Chris Shields Vs Destiny Loveheart Vs Ethan Brody Vs Kucci Mane Kuwop Vs Donathan DuPaul Vs Prince Wadjethotep Vs Mr. Rottentreats Vs Madman Szalinski Vs Reya Serra Vs Aubrey J. Parker Vs Adrien Specter Vs The Nameless Vs Diego de la Vega Vs Michael Hardy Vs Jordan Caliban Vs Oskar Kruger Vs Delikado Vs Sean Sands

[madmanszalinski]

Posted January 11, 2014 to CheapWhiteFoam.com/Videos
Uploaded to YouTube.com & Linked to Official APW Website

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

A webcam is flickered to life, the image in high quality but its stand shaky. Finally, the blurs cease to reveal a man with a black and white lucha mask along with a black Cheap White Foam Studios T-shirt.

"YO!"

With clear audio, Madman thumbs up into the camera, before sitting back at his desk near a large computer monitor with much cluster visible in the back ground; from a pack of Montclair Blacks with only one left in it, to a dozen with none left, to several lighters, and several empty packages of bacon jerky along with one near-empty one.

"It's ya boy Madman Szalinski here..."

"BARK! BARK!"

Madman looks down to his feet off-camera, taking several pieces of bacon jerky and tossing it onto the floor.

"Peach, go. Daddy's cutting a promo right now."

"BARK!"

A flash of brown and white fur buzzes in from the bottom-left of the screen. A chubby beagle-weiner mixed dog puts its front paws and head up onto Madman's knee briefly, then disappears again when she smells the food on the floor.

"Love you, fatshit."

Szalinski throws the pack back onto the desk after getting a piece for himself, looking back up as if he had never paused speaking. Even with bacon jerky in his mouth, he still tries to talk with an echoing voice akin to that of a sports commentator.

"I apologize, my puppy was hungry. Anyways, I'm Madman Szalinski here, and while my wife's in the shower..."

"No I'm not..."

Madman's neck and head snap back, and he turns toward his hallway.

"DAMN WOMAN! I didn't even hear you get out! Sorry folks..."

Szalinski turns back to look at the camera again. He shakes his head, rubbing at his temples slightly, but regains composure quickly.

"My wife Ariel Shadows is a ninja bitch, if you didn't know. Moving along...I'm gonna tell everyone why I've chosen to sign up to be a part of this momumental APW Survive & Conquer event, which I hear might could be the last one and it's definitely the largest this far! Everyone's gonna be there! Pay Per View and shit! Top shelf catering! Do I even need a reason? Well, yeah, since after you strip away all the glamour and glitz it's the most brutal competition there is in pro wrestling, bar none. Yeah, I'll tell you why I signed up."

With a hard swallow, he reaches for an open glass bottle of A&W Root Beer.

"Actually, I'll tell you why I haven't signed up."

Szalinski folds his hands, setting them on his lap. This does not last long, nor does his confident and firm tone. He shrugs frequently, also waving his arms around as he speaks.

"I didn't do it to go to Germany for the event. Been there already, like it, got tore the fuck up and ate four pounds of sausage at once. While I'm there this time, I'm probably doing it again and going for five. I didn't do it because I won the last big battle royal I signed up for in Open House II back in FRONTIER last year. I also didn't do it because people on Twitter asked me to. If the fans love me, I love them too. But I tend to stay away from what everyone else likes to do. I never liked Harry Potter, I'm 0 for 6 on Star Wars, no Big Lebowski, no Resevoir Dogs even. And I don't sign up for major battle royals just because they're so big you need to have five seperate matches just to determine a winner!"

Having reached for a lighter and the final cigarette while keeping much of his body and all of his face on the camera, Madman is able to light a cigarette and quickly resume speaking, tossing the lighter back into the corner of the desk and turning on the Mario ? block lamp. The empty pack also rejoins the others on the desk.

"I mean, I love the big feeling when everybody's there and the media's out to get you with their flashbulbs. I love running into people I haven't seen for a long time before. And it's cool to know I might be potentially working with such names as Katherine 'Wonder If She Figured Out What 'Heat' Was Yet' Stryfe to William 'FREEEEEEEEE BEEEEEERRRRR!!!!' Williams to Shawn Alexander 'Despite All My Emo Rage I Am Still Just Another Talent In The' Cage...hey, think I touched with Chris Shields once or twice before, maybe he remembers..."

After dropping his hands (having used them to form quotation marks with each of the names) Szalinski ashes his cigarette on the floor, taking a decent drag before continuing. With a free hand he holds up a finger with each name he exclaims, putting them away at the end.

"Then I got peoples who I KNOW are serious bidness...like Sean Sands. Pat Gordon Junior. Gordon Fury. Persephone Waters. About a dozen others who are gonna be salty because I didn't mention them...there's a lot of people in this thing. And they all want that money and that trophy. Hey, a million bucks is good money. And there ain't a price you can put on that trophy...not to mention the glory that comes with it. Whoever does win that thing definitely deserves the credit for living long enough to see it. "

Madman shakes his head while speaking, bud nods it upon finishing. Pausing to get a drink, he continues with a pang of reluctant acceptance in his voice.

"Look, by mere numbers alone, regardless of who the names are...my odds are 1 in 80. Even if I got through the first 20 and made it to the final four, I'd have to go through three more seperate matches of straight Hell on earth. Cages, ladders, street fights, everything you can god damn dream of! Robocop wouldn't even win this thing! So, why in the Kentucky Fried FUCK would ANYBODY want to partake in something like this?"

The rambling gives way to calm, reassuring tone through Szalinski's next words. However, this is because Madman now takes many more hits from his now half-depleted cigarette.

"I don't need the money. Everybody knows that...and I don't need the trophy. I've won plenty of them in my fourteen years...it's just one more place to hide the weed when somebody knocks on the door. I'm a man without it; if I wasn't, I wouldn't ever be one with it...I'm telling you...and I definitely don't need the violence....I've shed blood and I've spilled it, I have felt the sinew draining like a sponge as I continued to mangle the bodies below me. And I've felt my own bones crushed under the weight of something that even I do not understand. And I don't want to. No...I'm not in this for money, fame, glory, or even just because I like getting my hands dirty. I was built to be violent, but I don't like it. And I don't have to give into it, either. No...I'm not here to win, I'm not here to hurt people, and I'm not here to get famous."

With a couple of flicks and a few more drags in silence, Szalinski takes a monent to look around before he talks again. Szalinski snubs the cigarette butt into an ashtray, increasing in agitation and volume steadily.

"I'm here because this is what I do! Ich bin ein Madman! I am a man who knows that there is more to life than being a champion, or being on television, or owning two houses and five cars. I am a man who does not allow the temptations of this life to control who he is, nor what he does. I CHOOSE to be here...to let all these people try to kill me over a prize purse they'll have spent within six months, and a trophy that'll be on eBay by the end of the decade...to run the risk of falling short and being made a fool....to run the risk of having my career ended...I CHOOSE to take this challenge. And if I win, keep the money. Split it amongst everyone else who's risking it all just to say they gave it their best shot. I will accept the trophy out of respect for those who have won it before me, and those who competed for it. But I do not need to brag about it. I will have survived. Conquering will be the last thing on my mind. And bragging won't even be an issue. I'm doing this because of two little words...what if?"

Madman rubs his chin through the mask, looking off to the side. While speaking, he is oblivious to Peach hopping on her hind legs to reach the desk. After three tries, she is able to procure the bacon jerky package in her mouth. Pulling it open with her mouth, she gets her snout inside and backs away, the package on her snout still and bacon jerky rapidly disappearing into her stomach.

"What if I DID win? How embarassing would that be to the other 79 people, if the little pothead actually could out-wrestle everyone like he said he MIGHT be able to, if y'all just gave him a chance? Huh!"

Peach stumbles around with the bag on her face, but through his words Madman still does not notice. Madman sticks his tongue out, making a goofy face briefly. Then he relaxes himself once again, talking with a moderate demeanor.

"WHINE!"

Peach runs into the wall, barely visible at the bottom-right corner behind Madman.

"What if I DID win? I've won before when nobody thought I could. Want me to name names? It doesn't matter. The point is, I'm just as accomplished in professional wrestling as anybody else in this fuckin' motherfucker, and I have never had to cheat or take any shortcuts to do it! I never sold out my beliefs or who I was to make a buck! Everything I've ever done, I've done on MY own, on MY terms! You want a tangible reason why I'd wanna do this? To keep one of these prima donna fuck dick prick bitches from high-stepping and cheap-shotting their way to some kind of greatness! To get the chance to beat the holy fuck out of Dom Harter in a cage! To at least give people somebody to cheer for who isn't a complete fuckin' half-gallon of bullshit!"

A hand shoots up to Madman's chest, as he holds the other one up for a moment.

"..."

Szalinski pounds at his chest a time or two, then nods with a few deep gasps. He soon looks back up, and resumes speaking (although a little bit softer.)

"So, yeah. That's why I'm going to Berlin, Germany on the 26th. What if? What if the twenty-eight year old kid that sleeps in Mario pajamas and a dimesack hidden underneath his mask when he comes to the arena manages to win it all in Berlin? What if he was right all along, and he didn't smoke that weed until after his match? What if he really did care about things like honor and respect? What if he did restore the GFC Commonwealth Championship to active glory for the first time in twenty years? What if The Human Anomaly...the guy whose Twitter handle is 'autotunemypenis' legit..."

Szalinski stretches his arms out, looking up and around to his ceiling.

"DOES have what it takes to not only survive...but conquer?"

Szalinski curls his eyebrows with intensity for several silent seconds, before a glib sneer randomly appears on his face as he leans back into his chair.

"Yeah, that's crazy. Me? What would I know? I'm just a former 12-time champion in a 14-year career with diabetes and neuropathy! What do I know about surviving and conquering anything?"

Madman's head falls back, the man roaring out with booming, enunciated laughs.

"Hahaha! I've gone mad!"

Out of nowhere, Madman's roaring laughter stops. With bugged eyes and pursed lips, Madman points up slightly with his index finger.

"Hey...we all get a little bit mad sometimes!"

Szalinski attempts to keep his serious glaze at the camera, but soon bursts out with a smile and warm, soft chuckle and head shake.

"Me win Survive and Conquer...what am I gonna want next? My own show with Guerillas on BlogTalkRadio? Jesus...I know they said that new batch was powerful, but damn! Baby, you been hallucinating off this weed any?"

"No, baby. Maybe you should have stopped when everybody else passed out."

"Not my fault. Gotta stay hip if ya don't want skipped."

As Madman's head is turned back to look towards the hallway (where Ariel is presumably hiding from the camera) the video is abruptly ended.

[wadjethotep]

He peers deep into his bag like its going to tell him something. As if this inanimate object is going to have all the answers to the questions and thoughts running through his mind like a hamster on a never ending wheel. Everyone who is close to him and knows what happened over there tells him he is crazy for going back. He even agrees with them for the most part.


He stands up tall running his hands over his face, a deep sigh escapes his lips as he looks onto the dresser that contains the last piece needed before he can close the bag. He picks up his mask and stares into it. Trying to convince himself that once he puts it on everything will be ok, because he won’t have to be himself. That he can just slide it on and then he is Wadjethotep. Ty Hall will cease to exist for a brief moment in time that just may be too brief.


The mask is then laid down gently upon the rest of the contents of his bag. He zips it up and places it on the bed. He then lies down himself. Eyes affixed on the eggshell white ceiling. While his experiences in Europe were by far the worst of his life, his time in Germany wasn’t terrible. Once he reached Germany it actually signaled the end of his time being homeless. The promoters gave him a place to stay. He remembers how it took him nearly two weeks to get used to hot showers again. Each drop felt like lava upon his skin. The bed however was a welcomed change back to normal. He never spent anytime in Munich. He stayed in Oberhausen, nearly half the country away on the eastern side of Germany. So while there are no emotional ties to Munich there are still many terrible emotional ties to the continent as a whole.


The match comes in and out of his mind frequently. Initially only agreeing to sign up for this because Arkia wanted to do it. Now he doesn’t even find himself in the same group as her. Still the moral support is better than no support at all. Yet he is not walking into that ring without some sort of alliance. He and Kucci have the agreement that they will work together until they are the final two. While there is that part of him that is unsure of if he can trust him, he hopes that he knows it would make PDW look very good if they were the final two from their group.

Groups one, two, and four also weighed on his mind. He obviously wanted Arkia to win group four. Group one looked to be a very difficult one but he knows it isn’t a smart move to bet against Jack Benevolence. As for group two there was someone he wanted to win. Alex Zion. There isn’t a lot of people he holds hate for in this business but Zion was a man who spurned his hatred. Zion recently put Declan Black on the shelf. Declan has done a lot of things for him. He has given him money, he got him a job at Grindhouse Wrestling, and he treated him like a true friend. He wasn’t able to save Declan at the time of the incident and because of that he now has a mind filled with revenge. His motivation to reach the next round is the hope that Alex Zion will be there, so that he can give him a special greeting.


His group though is incredibly tough. The number of established names is disheartening fact. Its nearly enough to make a man look at that sheet of paper and just hang it up. He nearly wanted to. But he also knew he wasn’t going to fly all the way to Germany to look like some bum. Tobias Burden, Kucci, Reya Serra, Aubrey J. Parker, Adrien Specter, Diego De La Vega, Delikado, and Sean Sands are all well establish names. He knows for sure AJP, Diego, and Sands are all people who have held World championships. He can only imagine what that means for the rest of the group. His list of great accomplishments is quite short, because there are none. There are no titles to brag about. No list of world beaters that he has vanquished. He’s just that guy in the cobra mask. But he knows he needs to turn that into a positive. There isn’t really any pressure on him to perform like the rest of the group. He can go out there and lay everything on the line. Sacrifice his body in the name and chance for everlasting glory. A chance to lock horns with some of the best of the world and to leave the ring with the scars and stories to prove it. The chances for times like these are few and far between. And even if he doesn’t win Survive and Conquer he will win a ton of experience that he would never learn otherwise. He will hold his own. He will turn heads and tear the house down. And he will do it all with a smile behind his hidden face as he will try to claw his way to the win.


This is the biggest match of his career. Both figuratively and literally. He has never shared the ring with so many people in his life. And then come all the stipulations. This is nearly a death trap. But these are the situations that bring out the best in people, or the worst. Either way it brings out that primal instinct to survive at all costs. Something he had to do the last time he was in Europe. He knows this whole trip is just going to stir up a myriad of emotions and memories that he would rather not experience again. But ever since he started dating Dani the nightmares haven’t been as frequent. Maybe this is the next step to leaving the past behind. Yet it still doesn’t feel like the past. He left Germany in September, and here it is only four months later and he’s already coming back looking to close the book. He just hopes this doesn’t add any extra pages.


He hears Dani call for him downstairs and he knows that it must be time. He quietly clenches his teeth and sits up. He grabs his bag and heads downstairs.

______________________________________________________________________________



The camera opens up on a dimly lit room. The large number of candles the only light. On the floor sits a man in a black robe, his only distinct feature is his cobra head. No emotion can be seen through the darkness.


Wadjethotep: Survival is something not easily accomplished, but it is in our primal nature. It has been engraved in our DNA since the beginning of human history. Since Australopithecus afarensis took its first steps survival has always been something locked deep inside our brains. It is what makes us pull through in the worst situations. Situations where our backs are put against the wall. Situations like these.



His hands move in his lap. Revealing he is holding the Staff of Anubis.



Wadjethotep: Soon I find myself thrown into a ring with nineteen other opponents. All wanting the same thing. To survive to the next round. To where they plan to conquer. Each person with their mind set on one goal. A goal only one person can achieve. All of us aware of this fact. And all of us to be at each others throats. Me included. This is not a match for the weak. Only the strongest, the smartest, and the bravest shall reach this ultimate goal. To reach the top of that mountain and claim to be dominant in the large herd that surrounds them. We all want this. We all want the chance to show we are better than those around us. That for one night, we were unbeatable. But in the end there is no we, just an I. I hope that I is uttered from my lips.



He raises the staff, holding it towards the base as it towers over him.



Wadjethotep: I have nothing to lose, I have plenty to gain. The fame my name would achieve overnight would be immense. I would be that viral video, reaching one million views in one night. The world would know my name. A new bullseye would be affixed to my chest, and more people would come hunting for me. Wanting to beat the man who won survive and conquer. This match has its upsides, and then there are the millions of downsides. A match like this changes you. It can send you into the brightest spotlight, and it can cast you into the shadows. I’ve already been to the shadows, and its a place I choose not to return to. So I shall walk into that light. I shall hold my head high as I walk into battle. My emotions my weapons as I step between those ropes. I shall look to the heavens for support. They will not let me fail. And if I do, then it is not my time to do so. I leave it all to my mother. Wadjet knows my destiny. She lays it out before my feet as I walk along this golden road to the redemption of the 18th Dynasty. So I will leave it all to her. It is in her hands, the hands that cradled me to where I am before you now. Yet I will not falter in my fight. I shall shine diamonds in a ray of sunshine. I will enlighten like the sun. The name of Wadjethotep will echo through the arena. In the halls whispers of my name will be spoken. Whether or not Wadjet carries me to victory I shall remain a victor. For you will all know my purpose, and you will all know my name.



The camera fades to black.

[decker]

From the e-mail of Decker Watts:

Hey dudes. I'm totes heading to Thailand to recover from the vicious beating I received at the hands of Tobey Burden. I will prob show up and win anyway, but I don't have time to address all the losers that I'm gonna be tossin over that top rope, son. Peace out!

-DW

[Deleted]

[ON CAMERA]

"Survive and Conquer, huh?"

Sean Sands, the former Frontier Grappling Arts Heavyweight champion, is seen sitting in the middle of a ring of a dimly lit gym. His long dark brown hair is all up in his face as sweat continues to drip down his entire body. Wearing only a pair of black shorts and an elbow pad on his right elbow, a smirk appears on his face as he keeps his gaze to the mat in front of him.

"Let me tell you a little story.

There once was this kid who was pretty good at wrestling. He was actually very good. Made states and even got pretty far before being bounced out in the final four. After finishing his senior year in high school, this kid went to Ohio State on a pretty good scholarship. Most of his school would be paid for him, so he obviously took the scholarship and joined the Ohio State wrestling team.

But the kid ended up having to sit in his freshman year and watch his team become one of the best wrestling teams that year. He got to wrestle a bit his sophomore year, taking over for the senior who was in front of him in the weight class he was in while the senior was injured. Then, his junior year came around and the kid finally got his chance to start...and he was doing pretty well, looking like a nice solid contender for that weight in the conference...only to get injured. But, the kid did not give up and came back his senior year to do very well in the conference. So, you'd think the kid would have probably tried to go to a pro wrestling school, then look for work in the pro wrestling biz, huh?"

The smirk on Sean's face disappears as he continues to gaze at the spot in the mat in front of him. He then slowly shakes his head, letting out a sigh while doing so.

"Nope. The kid instead decided to get his degree in a field he really didn't care for and decided to go back to his high school where he became the coach for the junior varsity team while working a part time job as a substitute teacher. Life was okay for him for a while. He made a decent amount of money and had a loyal girlfriend.

A few years later, the kid, who was now a man, went to substitute teach a math class. In said math class, there were multiple wrestling fans of a certain promotion that was going to be holding tryouts in the man's hometown. One kid in that class was also on the wrestling team the man coached and knew that the man was part of the Ohio State wrestling team and decided to hand him the info about the wrestling tryout. The man was hesitant at first, but finally agreed to the tryout.

The man then went on to train for professional wrestling and was ready to fight. When he went to the tryout, the man survived in an all out battle royal and earned a contract with the company. The man had become a professional wrestler and had found a different...a better purpose in life.

That man is obviously me."

Sands stops staring at the mat and looks right up at the camera, the smirk returning on his face.

"Ever since I joined the world of professional wrestling, it has been about surviving and conquering for me. Most would say I have done more of the former and much, much less of the latter. Most would say that I've gone from company to company, winning titles and just keeping myself around. Keeping myself from getting fired and falling prey to the bigger dogs. So, yeah. I truly do know a lot about surviving.

Conquering is something almost foreign to me. The only time I can truly say I conquered anything would have to have been something in this past year with Frontier Grappling Arts. Maybe I conquered over seven other superstars to win the Frontier Lion's Cup and a shot at the FGA Heavyweight championship. Maybe I was conquering FGA for two months when I was their Heavyweight champion. Besides that, I've always been sort of the runt of the litter. I've always been that guy in the back, just staring as others reach the top and holding that title high up in the air.

So, why did I join Survive and Conquer? I did it for myself. I did it to see if I could go up against some of the best and survive. And conquer. The way I see it, if I don't survive and conquer, it isn't that big of a deal. If I do, everything changes. If I do, I walk away with a great win. I walk as a survivor and a conquerer.

Here's hoping for the best. I'll see you out in that ring, ladies and gentlemen."

Sands nods his head before the scene cuts and the static begins.

[Chris Shields]

Alpine: Shields has done it, he has won the buried alive match, and perhaps he has put to rest, the final demon from his past.

I didn't yet know those words had been spoken as I stood there at the top of that burial mound I had paid to have built. This mound of dirt and grass and rock that had cost me thousands of thousands of dollars to have constructed, all so that I could throw Elizabeth Devereaux into a grave and bury her alive. I stared down into that hole, and realized that I had completely covered in dirt, a woman that I once loved. I looked to the gravestone that I'd had made, and felt sick. What I did next, I have no idea why I did it, I just know that as much as I wanted her gone and out of my life, I hated myself for throwing her into that grave. After I placed my hand on the gravestone, I had absolutely nothing left and just let my body fall to the ground. The rest of the night was nothing more than a blur of EMT's, nurses, doctors, IV's, stitches, and wondering what the hell I had done. Eventually I just passed out from a mix of blood loss, exhaustion, and the really good drugs that they'd been pumping me full of.

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

Here I was once again. Three days before my match with Apathy, I'd secluded myself in this training center, as I analyzed, agonized, and basically obsessed over hours and hours and hours of match footage, and now just three days after the match, I was doing the same thing. Once again, I had a pile of DVD's in front of me, and the only difference was that they now bore names instead of match descriptions. Decker Watts, Tobias Burden, Diego de la Vega, Reya Serra, Jack Benevolence, Doug E. Fresh, Adrien Specter, Delikado, Aubrey J. Parker, Dom Harter, the list of names went on and on. Of course, I had footage of the nineteen people in my group, but I'd my best to get footage on all of the other groups. There were of course some names that I knew, Nigma, Raab, Rex Evans, Rowyn Starr, Aurora Jansen, Elizabeth Devareuax of course. I'd either been in the ring with each of them, or seen them in person. There were more than enough that I knew absolutely nothing about though, especially in my own group. Lovehart, Kuwop, Kruger, Caliban, Hardy, DuPaul, that prince guy, all of them were complete and total unknowns.

"What the hell was I thinking?"

I massaged my temples as I tried to stay awake, even though I knew this wasn't a good idea. I'd practically driven myself crazy by doing this before my match with Lizzy, and once again, there was that purple fucking monkey. I knew he was fake, it was just a hallucination, and the sign that I should relax, get some rest, and get back to training in the morning, but it wasn't that easy. I had something to prove in this match. With Lizzy, it was personal, it was about revenge and payback. Survive and Conquer, while being something completely different, held just as much importance to me, maybe even more. This match, this one was for me. Survive and Conquer wasn't necessarily about my career, or even my pride, or about proving that I still have what it takes, it was about proving that the man I was, would never again be the man I am. That was what this match was mostly about. That's what this obsessive behavior was all about, and that's what I needed to tell the World. I suppose now is as good a time as any. Sure, I could wait and do things all professional like, hell, I still have a cameraman on staff... but there's something comforting about doing things the way I did way back when I started out. Just a simple camera and me, that was all I really needed to be able to address the people. I simply started it up and sat down just like I was ready to talk to an old friend.

"Survive and Conquer 2013 was... a disappointment, an embarrassment, a debacle, and there is only one person to blame for that... myself. I came into that match in a great position, entering at like ninety two or ninety three, I can't recall exactly, I just remember that it was a prime spot. I was in a position where I could have won the whole thing. Instead, I didn't even make it to the final four, I didn't even get in the top ten, hell if I made the top twenty five, it's only because seventy four people had already been eliminated before I got in the ring. In that match, I didn't make a single elimination, and I wasn't in the ring for five minutes. There's a reason I disappeared after that match,why I left wrestling behind completely, and it's because I was ashamed of myself. There's also a reason why I was the very first person to sign up for this years Survive and Conquer. I need to make things right, not for me, but for the fans, the fans of APW, PW, and wrestling. I let down each and every person who ever believed in me, and that isn't going to happen this year."

I just stopped and sighed as I thought back to that night. After my quick departure, I didn't storm to the back in a huff, I didn't run to the back to finish watching the rest of the event on a monitor, I didn't even hang my head in shame, even though that's what I should have done. Fact is, I was so drunk that I barely even registered what happened. I knew I was out the match, and I knew that meant I could now leave, find the nearest strip club, get a bottle of something, and soon enough I'd be snorting some blow off a giant pair of fake breasts. Oh crap, I really hope I haven't been quiet for way too long. Well, I guess that's what editing was invented for.

"So, I've told everyone why I'm in this match, so now here's the part where I'm supposed to talk about everyone in the match. I'm not going to do that though. Simply put, it would be a waste of time, both yours and mine. Now, there are certainly people in this match that I'm not exactly a fan of. My group in particular, Decker Watts is not only the kind of asshole that I used to be, but he's actually better at it. When I look at the other groups, Pat E. Nigma and Stefan Raab aren't exactly on my Christmas card list, and of course there's the woman I buried alive, just a few nights ago, Elizabeth Devereaux. But for all the people that I don't like, there's even more that I respect. Let's go with my group, just like for the people I dislike. Adrien Specter, Reya Serra, Aubrey J. Parker, fantastic competitors and I know that Specter and Parker are two of the favorites, not just in group three, but in the entire tournament. Outside of Group three, Phoenix Wrestling is very well represented, by people I have gained an immense respect for. Aurora Jansen, Rowyn Starr, Arkia Fisk, I've been in the ring with each of them, and it would in no way surprise me, to see one of them as the winner. Of course, there's always those X-factors, the wild cards, and for me, that covers at least half of the group I'm in. I've studied and watched footage on each of them, but that can only do so much for you. Not to mention, I don't know if I'll enter first, second, or eighteenth. I could step into the group three rumble with nineteen people to beat, or with one person to beat. Add in the fact that I have no idea of who could come out of the other groups. I could be in the final four with the last two men to hold the True Expert championship and the woman that I recently buried alive. Just as easily, it could be two men that I hold wins over in Rex Evans and Takasu Kaoru, along with a woman I've never been able to beat Aurora Jansen. Same time, it could be three people I know nothing about, like Scott Wilson, Victor Creep, and Ethan Drake. So, I'm not going to talk people down, or brag about what I'm going to do, because it's pointless. The only thing I can do, is go out to that ring, leave absolutely everything I have out there, and try my damndest to win. If I do that, there's no shame in not bringing home the cup, but I will not have a repeat of last year."

Last year, I had to be able to move past that humiliation, but still remember that I was fighting to overcome it. I was fighting to make up for it, I was fighting to get rid of that stigma. I am fighting to prove that I'm not that guy anymore. How was I suppose to let it go, and still use that motivation? Oh damn it, I stopped for too long again. Hell, maybe it's time to just lay things out on the table.

"I can't have a repeat of last year, but what happened last year, I absolutely and one hundred percent deserved. I haven't said it, but I'm sure anyone who watched that match or has watched it since, could tell that I was in no position to wrestle. I was drunk, I was high, I was barely coherent. I would like to say that the shame and regret set in the moment I was tossed over the top rope, but it took awhile. Now, I won't lie and say that I wouldn't take pride in winning Survive and Conquer, but who wouldn't? The money would go to charity, I have no need of it, and there's a lot of people it could help. I guess what all of my rambling comes down to, is an apology and a promise. An apology for the man I was, and how I disrespected every single person who stepped into the ring, not just in the last Survive and Conquer, but in the history of wrestling. Here's the promise though, it will never happen again, and I will sweat, I will bleed, I will fight to win this match, and I will give fans everywhere, something that they can be proud of."

God I hope I can live up to that promise, and that I can edit out that nervous look I know I just gave. Stop recording, best thing in the World. Recording done, editing to come later, and for now, relaxation. I stared over at the pile of DVD's and just turned my chair around, leaning back as I turned on a little music, and just sang along.

"Lately I've been measuring
Seems my time is growing thin
Wind me up and watch me spin
Watch me spin, watch me spin

Skin and bones, skin and bones
Skin and bones don't you know?
Skin and bones, skin and bones
Skin and bones don't you know?
I'm just skin and bones"

"What are the chances that you actually come to bed tonight?"

I didn't have to turn around to know who was talking. Sure, she was the only other person in the house, but I would have been able to pick out her voice in a sea of noise.

"I'll be up soon, I promise."

"I've heard that the last few nights Chris. I know you're focused and determined to win this, but you're going to drive yourself crazy."

I leaned forward in the chair and stood up, finally turning to see her. Lenora Reynolds, beautiful as ever, especially considering she wore the little red number that I loved, and no matter what anyone in the World says, the most beautiful part of a woman, is her ability to put up with my bullshit.

"I'm sorry Lenora."

The words had been said by me to many a woman before, but I completely meant them when I said them to her. I completely meant it when I told her I loved her, and I completely meant it when I told myself that I was going to marry this woman.

"You're right. I've got to stop obsessing over this, at least quite so much."

I just gave her a grin and a little chuckle, but didn't get much in the way of a response.

"I just want you to be okay Chris, I love you."

"I love you too Lenora, let's go to bed."

I pulled her close and gave her a simple kiss before following her up the stairs.

"You know, if I would have known you were wearing that, I would have been up a long time ago."

[pancho]

Just outside of Chihuahua City, Chihuahua México

February 2013



Absent the moon, only a flicker of light coming through a window was all the light that could be seen from his distance. “Hold your positions,” they said over the communications. Slowly Diego; going by another name in another life, carefully adjusted his night vision goggles over his face and turned them on. To the outside world this was a peaceful property. The owner never caused problems. People would see a car drive up here every now and then but otherwise they kept to themselves.



But the owner never existed. Forged documents and signatures left a paper trail to nobody. Months of investigation revealed this location. Why so off the grid? What secrets was it hiding? “We’ve got a body coming out. I’ve got a clear shot,” someone said over communications. The man was 50 wearing a leather apron. He had blood on his apron and he carried a Carta Blanca in one hand and a machete in the other. A soft whisper and the man fell to his knees the bottle crashing by his side. “Target has been taken out. Approach with caution.” The command had been given. Diego moved towards the house staying crouched with his 9mm safely in hand. His tactical team moved in quickly clearing the corners and moving throughout the ranch. “IN HERE!!”



The team quickly moved through the house when a pungent odor molested the nostrils. It felt like a fog was choking you and when Diego entered into the room where his 5 other officers were standing he saw the reason why. The table had piles and piles of body parts. Flies buzzed around the room as human waste and excrement were piled up in a corner. A large hole was dug into a ground with cracked cement that was half filled with body parts. One of the men throws up from the smell. This small lonely ranch with only a passing truck coming and going was a graveyard for the cartel. When they wanted to you to disappear and never be heard from again they sent you here. Chopped, carved and gutted your final resting place was with 100 other poor souls dropped down a hole and covered with fresh cement. Diego put his hand on the table touching the partially dried blood. That smell. The paperwork was wrong. The owner for this place did exist. Death lived here.



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



Diego wakes up from his sleep to a bright light. The sun shines filling the room with light. He looks down at his fingers still expecting to feel the thick blood between his fingertips but such is not the case. A hand grabs his. He turns to see the face of his beloved Maria Salazar. She reaches up with her other hand to touch his cheek. ‘You were having a bad dream. You kept repeating the word death in your sleep. Where were you?’ Her voice was so soft. His heartbeat had been going a mile a minute but just feeling her touch and hearing her voice his breathing calmed down. ‘I was back in Chihuahua.” He said exhausted. “The bodies …” his voice was cut off as she put a fingertip over his mouth. Her finger pressed against his lips. “That was a scary time for you. But I’m here now. You’re safe with me.”



Diego lifts himself up on the bad sitting on the edge of it. Maria wraps her arms around him kissing his shoulder. ‘How long can you stay this time?’ he asks her. ‘I wish you could stay forever.’ He turns back to her brushing his thumb against her nose. ‘You know I can’t.’ Diego kisses her on the lips. The soft kiss fills his lungs with air. ‘I’m so sorry Maria. I should have saved you. I shouldn’t have left your side.’ She pushes back away from him. A trickle of blood flows from beneath her nose; another from her left eye.



‘Diego? Remember what you promised. Save her. Do what it takes but SAVE HER!’ Her eyes roll in the back of her head. Diego grabs her as she goes limp in his arms. He shakes her trying to revive her but her body withers away from the beautiful woman that she was as her hair falls out and skin peels off. Diego is left holding a rotting corpse.



“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO …



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

Present day 2014



“OOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!”



Diego finally awakens from his torturing dream covered in a cold sweat. His room is dark except for the glowing red lights from his clock. 4:45 AM. Every night a new torture haunts his sleep. Tonight he almost got 5 hours. Best sleep he’s ever had since the day she died.



Maneuvering in the dark had become second nature to him by now. Diego reached over and grabbed his mask … his face almost at this point. The man who was beneath this mask died a long time ago and is resting peacefully with his beloved. The man in this room is a walking shadow of the man still on this earth to complete his mission. End it. All of it.



Diego unlatches the deadbolt to his room and walks out towards the kitchen not surprised by his friend and accomplice Wayland Jackson. Wayland has a fresh pot of coffee going as he reads off his laptop.



“Can’t sleep either,” Diego remarked. “Damn knee keps mah awake at aw ‘ours. Can’t take no pills far it. Loss dat pribiledge long tame ago.” Wayland was an ex junkie. Any pain pills of any kind would send him spiraling out of control destroying the sobriety he had built for himself. Wayland had started wrestling as a way of spreading his faith filled message. He targeted those that made themselves appear pure on the outside when nothing but evil lurked within. It made him very unpopular especially a man he had earmarked since day one. Back then he was known as the “Code Red Convict.” Wayland only knows him as a destroyer. A physical altercation in the ring and Rex Evans had made sure Wayland would never walk straight again let alone wrestle. Wayland limped from the counter over to the kitchen island with a fresh cup for Diego. These meetings at dawn had become a regularity between them.



The Peruvian blend smelled fantastic. Wayland reached over and grabbed the remote turning on the television. The glow from the television illuminates the kitchen. We get a better look at Diego and while his mask hides his face his body is riddled with bruises and cuts. The damage he has placed on his body seems overwhelming but Wayland Jackson does not flinch at the sight of his friend in such a state; as if it is the norm. The news runs through its daily routine: news headlines, weather reports, traffic reports. Half hour through the program though a familiar face comes on screen that makes Diego clench his teeth.



And in entertainment news today the “IT” couple of wrestling, Talon Wilkinson and Aubrey J. Parker were spotted sharing a personal moment in public. I think it’s quite endearing that a man who has everything seems to cherish her more than anything. You can actually tell they’re in love look how often they touch each other. This isn’t one of those celebrity couples this is the real thing!



“Turn it off,” Diego mumbled. Wayland didn’t hear him but he did notice the loud crash of the mug breaking against the kitchen sink. “I SAID TURN IT OFF!” Wayland pressed off the power button and limped over to turn on the overhead lights. “Aw ben meanin’ ta say dis but dis lil quest we on. Da one path you been put awn. You said dat Maria told ya to save a gurl jus like her. What if dat’s her?”



Wayland turned the television back on where the media was discussing Aubrey J. Parkers fashion sense. Photos passed on the stage of many dresses she’s worn on the red carpet events that her fiancé takes her too. Diego stares at the screen focusing on Aubrey’s face; her auburn eyes, jet black hair and bronze skin.



The screen cuts to another picture where she is planting a kiss on Talon Wilkinson’s cheek. The mood is lost. “She is no innocent. She is not worth saving. The love they have for her is superficial. Their nothing beneath her shell but ego and narcissism. She deserves to have it ended; just like the rest.” Wayland lets out a sigh as a blip comes across the screen. He looks down at the laptop screen looking down once and forgetting about it. He looks back down a second time and almost spit takes his coffee.

He sits down on the stool putting his mug down and clicking on the new email he has just received. “Sun-bitch,” he says laughingly. “I never thought he’d go for it. Diego you’ got your meetin’. He’s agreed to meet.”



“Then we proceed as planned. If he agrees to it then Survive and Conquer will become a formality.”



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



August 2012

New York City, New York



“I don’t know what you are so nervous about. You’ve gone out drinking with your boss before.” Maria was enjoying poking fun at the nervous Diego de la Vega. He was sporting a white tuxedo with a black skinny tie and black handkerchief. “You look nice by the way.” Diego flashed his boyish smile at the compliment, “It’s easy to look good when I have you on my arm senorita. But I’m nervous because it’s one thing to go out drinking on the road in Vegas – and don’t you even think about bringing that up – and quite another to be invited to your boss home for a party!”



“The only thing that keeps me calm is knowing that I’ll have the world’s most beautiful woman on my arm. I’ll make sure to introduce you when we get inside.” Diego roars back with laughter as he eats a punch right into his arm from the prideful Maria. They move through the lobby and into the private elevator as they go all the way up the penthouse. The doors open and the party is well underway as a DJ gets the dance floor going. Overwhelmed by the situation Diego is saved by the host himself, Talon Wilkinson.



“You made it! And you brought quite the date!” Ever the charmer Talon Wilkinson quickly makes the two feel at home. “Oh no Talon don’t try to swindle me like I’m one of your angels. Which Victoria secret model are you on now?” Maria jabbed at Talon. He flashes a smile. “I’ll have you know Lindsay Ellington is more than just a pretty face. I’ll introduce you.” The night was in celebration to Code Red Wrestling joining the ranks of the Experts; a behind doors deal that Talon masterminded when everyone was chasing for power in the Experts Tournament 2012. The night continued with many drinks; Diego sticking to light beer; dancing and humor. At a Wilkinson party no expense was spared with an excellent spread of food and drinks. To a common man like Diego it was overwhelming and very intimidating taking the woman of his dreams to his boss’s prestigious penthouse knowing that at the end of the night he would have to return to his small one bedroom apartment.



As the night continued Lindsay had proven to be more than a face. She was a fantastic impressionist and a blast to be around. The highlight of the party was watching her and Maria perform karaoke when Talon pulled on his arm to come to a private room. Diego looked at Maria on stage seeing her enthralled in her performance and quickly dipped out to have a word with his boss in the other room. “There’s something I want to give to you. Follow me.”



Diego and Talon worked their way down the hallway littered with fancy art. They turned into a private room where Talon moved a wall panel to reveal a private safe. He punched in a code and then his thumbprint to open it pulling out a box. “What you did this summer Diego for me and my company can’t be measured in worth. Thanks to you championing the company you’ve taken us to bigger and better places. I thought about how to repay you. I know you’re not much of a flashy guy though I’m glad the suit fit. So I got you something you could give.” Talon Wilkinson opens the box and inside is a diamond with a glorious amber diamond. The shine alone brightens up the room and the white gold band is flawless. “This is for you to give to Maria. One day you’ll marry that woman. She’s good for you. She’s great for you.” Talon hands over the box to Diego who picks the ring out of the box. Holding it up in the light just makes it shine brighter. Diego is speechless but he puts the ring back in the box closes it up and put’s it back in Talon’s hand.



“Mira, I know you mean well and that was a very generous gift but I can’t accept that.” Talon looks confused and then wonders if he offended the Mexican. “Look I didn’t mean to intrude …” Talon begins saying before he is cut off by Diego, “ No it wasn’t offensive. It was actually very generous. But I can’t take that gift. I imagine that ring cost more than my apartment right now and one day I will give her a ring. But … but I want it to be from me. I don’t have a lot Talon. But I’ve got her. And I’ve got you. Your friendship is more than enough.” Talon shakes hands with Diego and they embrace in a hug. Talon sets the box back in the safe and closes the door just as Maria comes barreling in a little drunk. “Still trying to steal my man from me Talon?” She says giggling. He responds, “What can I say you’ve got quite the catch.”



Diego picks up his drunken love with both arms as her shoes go flying in the air. She lets out a joyful scream as the three go back out to re enter the party. “I love you,” she says.



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



The cold wind of a desert night bites at the skin. Diego is not one to make public appearances but for this man and this meeting he’s willing to step outside his comfort zone. So here he stood outside of a church … a place he had not been in many months. Wayland stood next to him as they moved towards the rear of the church where a park was located. There at the park stood lights that lit up the benches where two men were already seated.



Diego stops Wayland and motions for him to give him room for privacy. Wayland pulls out a wooden box from inside his coat and hands it to Diego. He moves toward the bench with two men as one of them steps up and gets right in Diego’s face. He stares into his withered face as he speaks to him, “ Diego if this is some ploy, some trick, to hurt my brother. I’ll make you pay. I swear.” Diego looks right back at the man gazing through his mask and into his eyes. “Nice to see you too Richard.”



Richard Specter moved away from the bench as Diego set down the box on the table. Across the table from him sat Adrien Specter. His face as usual lacked an appropriate amount of color truly invoking his nickname “The Ghost”. Diego opened the box and out fell out wooden pieces belonging to a chess set. Diego spoke first, “Rumor is you picked up this game while you were in jail. Give us something to do while we talk.”



The two men went about placing the pieces into their appropriate position. Adrien signed to Diego, “Before we begin I have been curious as to where and why you learned to sign. That’s not something you knew when we first met.”



“No Adrien it wasn’t. After taking you very lightly and a glutton for punishment it was Maria’s idea to learn to sign language and show you the respect I had grown for. I simply never had the chance to show you and now … she’s no longer around.” The last words coming from Diego are almost torture to say out loud. Adrien doesn’t flinch having retreated within himself since his battles with Insomnia but he wavers for a moment as he nods calmly to agree with Diego. “Yes Adrien you understood the kind of woman she was. One of a kind. But … there is another. One that she has beckoned for me to save. And I don’t intend on letting her down.”



“Yes you mentioned your mission in your message. And while the end is admirable. The means are what troubles me. I’ve seen your work first hand.” Adrien was referencing the battle between his STS and Team Doug in which Diego was the sole survivor of a 5 on 5 elimination match featuring Paradox McSweeney, Doug E. Fresh, and of course Adrien Specter. “My methods aren’t so different from you anymore Adrien. Just as when we first met. Look at your body what it’s been through for all the years. You’re a head shot away from never getting up again and still they cheer for you to put yourself in harm’s way. And for what? A dollar figure? Some company wanting to ride out in the sunset one last time. Why Adrien? You have everything you need. A loving woman. Beautiful children. A brother who cares. Why do this to yourself? The fans don’t care if you die in that ring. In fact some of them want it to happen just for the entertainment. Join me. Make your life mean something. Stop fighting people and start saving them!” With all the pieces set up Diego being the white piece moves first. A few chess moves later and Adrien has allowed the words to sink in. He moves his rook to take a misplaced pawn from Diego.



“You think I’m not aware of my own mortality? I more than anyone know what this body has been through and how much more it can’t take. But you asked me why I continue to do this. One punch to the head and BAM lights out Specter. That’s all true.” Specter smacks his own head to emphasize the fragileness of his life. He places a bishop to the far side of the board. “If it’s true then why do you fight me. I have nightmares every night tortured by what I lost. But you … you can save those you love. Don’t you realize one day some young punk is going to use them to get to you! And for what? FAME!? GLORY?! MONEY!?” Diego brings out his queen sweeping pieces off the board taking a commanding lead in the chess match. Adrien snaps his fingers in front of Diego making the luchador focus on his hands for what he signs next he signs very slowly, “I feel great pity for the man who makes that mistake.” And then suddenly in a move out of nowhere Diego’s queen is taken. Oblivious to the larger game Diego loses the second most important piece of the game. What follows next is only a formality. It is not long until the king falls. Adrien gets up from the seat having said his peace. Diego grabs him by the arm as he tries to get and leave and feels his bicep flex within his grasp.



“If you were never going to entertain my partnership why even meet with me?” Adrien simply signs one word. Diego scoffs, “ Heh, your continuing belief in hope. Save it. Nothing stops me anymore Adrien. Survive and Conquer isn’t going to be a celebration of APW. It will be its funeral.” Diego let’s go of Adrien’s arm happy to have gotten the last word in. But Adrien does not leave. He places his hand on Diego’s cold shoulder and whispers into his hear audibly.



“An’ I wull be der do stawp you … ol’ fren …”



Adrien walks of leaving Diego alone in the cold. He looks down at the chess board and in anger throws them all off the table in anger.



*********



In wrestling these things almost become second nature, one more move, one more match, ONE MORE SHOW! A.P.W has felt its itch and decided to scratch it putting on a final Survive and Conquer. But it’s mistaken. That itch it feels isn’t a sign of life reaching out for glory … it’s the last twitch of a dying body.



So here I am, death itself, Diego de la Vega, arrived to put the final nail in the coffin. Was it the million dollars that caught my attention? The recognition? Or to trade mark the nickname “The Last Survivor?” Such superficial desires are beyond me now. No, while those desires might bring out the hopeless, the desperate, and the narcissistic I am driven by a more pure motivation; vengeance.



While everyone will look forward to celebrate A.P.W and all its glory over its years I am here to reveal its dark underbelly. For every story of perseverance and achievement of one there are 20 more of dreams shattered and broken. A.P.W was a machine that needed regular feeding and it was fed the hopes and dreams its roster. How many careers were ended before they ever started all in the name of money and ratings? Don’t confuse yourself into thinking this was about good triumphing over evil. Look at a list of who’s who of A.P.W Mega-Stars and you’ll see a list of men and women who learned to play both sides of the same coin. They’re not heroes. They’re politicians.



And it’s time we stopped celebrating it. Just look at what this place did to a man, a man so pure of heart that if he were a doctor or a scientist or anything else he would have held a joyous life. But he was a wrestler and when his time came the machine didn’t hesitate. It ate his body and when it wasn’t filled it destroyed his mind. Kurt Noble now walks the earth as a shell of himself and all of it happened on your television sets; to your applause.



That’s what the machine does. That’s what this business does. It takes, and it takes, and it takes, never giving back anything of substance. Gold plated belts? Dollar bills? I would trade every glory I’ve ever accumulated in the wrestling world if it gave me back 1 hour with my beloved Maria. But this compassion and charity doesn’t exist in the machine. So I will show it none. I will now take from it as it has taken so much from me. And before you think this the ravings of a mad man understand that I have been there at the end of both The Experts and C.R.W. These are not threats I make. They are PROMISES.



The day of glorifying this abomination is over. When the doors close on A.P.W it won’t be to a round of applause or a heartfelt goodbye. It will be at the horror of what I’ve done to send this bitch to its death. The names in the matches don’t matter: Ghost, King, God … everything dies. You may strike me, you may cut me, you may break me but I will not falter, I will not fail and I will not quit. I am eternal. I am death.



As they all look upon me seeing Death victorious in battle again; and my competitors in ashes. Then A.P.W. you have my permission to die.

[Adrien Specter]

One Dollar

An American one dollar bill has been in use since August 8th 1786.

It makes up 48% of all money printed within the United States.

It has a life expectancy of 18 months.

On January 26th 2014, 80 people will battle for the chance to win $1 million.

This is the story of one of those dollars.

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

“What do you mean you’re going to meet him?!” Richard asked as Adrien opened the car door and stepped out of the vehicle. Slowly he turned back to his brother as Richard joined him, before raising his hands and began signing to him.

He said he wants to see me.

“Did he say why?” Richard asked, climbing out after him, walking around and beginning to fill the car with gas. Adrien slowly shook his head in reply as he looked into the backseat, seeing Gabriel strapped in. The pair of them looked to one another before slowly the child raised his hand, waving to his mother’s partner. A small smile left The Ghost’s lips as he slowly raised his scar ridden hand, and returned the gesture.

“Alright, but I’m coming with you. If anything happens-“ Richard began before suddenly Adrien rose up and clapped, catching his attention mid-sentence.

Nothing is going to happen.

“Oh really, and after the way he’s been acting as of late, how can you be sure this isn’t a ploy to get you out of Survive and Conquer early? You outlasted him last year, and he’s probably looking for an easy way to get rid of you!”

Because after Legacy, he knows he can beat me. And given the chance, if he’s looking to take Survive and Conquer, he’s going to want to do it over anyone who’s attempting to stand in his way.

“Regardless, I’m still coming with you.” Richard explained as Adrien simply shook his head in agitation before turning towards the store and stepping inside. His eyes looked back to the car, and the child in the back before pushing the door open and stepping inside the store from the courtyard. His eyes scanned the wares for a moment, before finally finding the candy aisle and picking up a chocolate bar. Quickly turning towards the counter, he looked at the man standing behind the counter. His arms were covered in tattoos, and his face pierced in his mouth, nose and ears, he greeted Adrien with a smile. Slowly Adrien placed the candy on the counter, as the cashier slowly narrowed his eyes at him.

“…You’re who I think you are, right?” he asked, as Adrien looked to him with a raised eyebrow. Slowly the shop worked leaned forward towards him. “You’re Adrien Specter…”.

Slowly Adrien released a sigh, before nodding his head, much to the delight of the man before him. Nodding his head as he scanned the item before him, he looked to Adrien once more.

“That’ll be $1.00, Mr Specter.” The cashier asked, as Adrien brought his wallet out of his pocket, before pulling the cash out of it. Handing over the single note, Adrien quickly picked up the candy before turning to make his way back to the car. The cashier smiled to himself as suddenly he head the door go once more, looking as a scruffy looking young man made his way into the store.

“Hey man, pack of Marlborough.” The man asked as he quickly put his hand into his pocket, and pulled out the money for his cigarettes, clearly in a hurry. Swiftly the casher turned his back to the shopper, before pulling a pack off the wall behind him, and placing it on the counter. Taking his money, the cashier opened the register, before handing his change off towards the man in front of him.

“Thanks man, you’re a life saver.” The shopper explained, as quickly he turned and ran back out towards his car. His eyes quickly looked to the selections of coffee in the passenger’s seat, held in place by their cardboard cup holder. Swiftly he put his keys into the ignition, and started the car, causing his radio to pick-up.

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

“That’s right ladies and gentlemen, we have two tickets for you and a friend to Munich, to see Survive and Conquer live, front row on the 25th of January thanks to our sponsors at Action Packed Wrestling. All you have to do is be over 18 to enter, and answer this simple question: As we all know “Showtime” Terry Marvin took the victory last year. Our question…What number did he enter at? You call us on Skype, you get chosen, and you could be off to Germany next week!”

“That’s quite a prize there, Omar.”

“It is, Andrew. However it’s nothing in comparison to the million dollars that are up for grabs in the match itself. Now, as we all know Mr Marvin has decided not to take up the chance to defend his S&C crown this year. So, I ask you, who’s going to be the one taking it this year?”

“Personally, I see this going one way. Rex Evans. Came third on his first attempt last year, has been running riot in SCW, and to me takes up his namesake of finisher. He. Is. Unstoppable!”

“And by that I’m assuming you mean Marvin isn’t in this year to tap him out again.”

“I’d like to see you try and tap him out.”

“I bet you would, however, someone I’m sure everyone is waiting to hear from our lovely producer, Ms Moneypenny.”

“Oh Ms Moneypenny…”

“Tell me Olivia, out of all the muscles and baby oil, who gets your vote for the winner this year?”

“Well it’s not so much muscles and baby oil as pain and blood, because I’m looking into the death squad that is Rumble 4 for my vote.”

“Oh, the English rose like to show her thorns it seems.”

“She does indeed. Well, given the selection of talent in the apply names “death squad”, who are you looking to come out on top?”

“Well obviously you’ve got people like M.D.K, you’ve got legends like Rowyn Starr, Jason Kash, Aurora Jensen-“

“SHWING!”

“Oh yes, very shwing…”

“But past all of them, past Jonathon Mills, Ariska Fisk, Skyler Faith, Katherin Strife, past ALL of them, one stands out. That man is Douglas E Fresh. True Expert Champion, CWC World Heavyweight Champion, CWC Tag Champion, 7 time Global Champion, the list goes on and on and on…And soon, the final Survive and Conquer champion will be added to the end of that list.”

“Seems Ms Moneypenny is getting all flustered over a man who lost the Global Championship to J.T. Cash of all people…”

“Alright then, who have you got your money on?”

“Three words. Decker. F’ing. Watts.”

“Hey, watch your language!”

“I’m just giving him his official title! Don’t hate!”

“So you’re a Deckhead then?”

“Please, I was a Deckhead before being a Deckhead was cool.”

“So you’re a Hipster Deckhead then?”

“You just don’t understand…”

“I’ll tell you one thing that I do understand, and that’s the intern just came in with our COFFEE!”

“YES! Our caffeine saviour has returned. Tell us Greg, who’s your money on to win on the 26th?”

“Oh, umm…Stefan Rabb?”

“…”

“…”

“…Just leave the coffee and get out.”

“Seriously, go sit in the corner and think about what you’ve done.”

“And while he does that, you stay right there and think about the answer to our contest. What number did Terry Marvin enter at last year to go on to win Survive and Conquer? Call us on skype with the right answer, and this time next week, you could be listening to us from Munich, Germany from front row seat at the Allianz Arena. Right now you’re listening to the Omar and Andrew show-“

“With the lovely Ms Moneypenny…”

“And we’ll be right back after these messages.”

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

“Stefan Rabb…really?” Omar asked as the radio show went to commercial, and Greg began handing out the coffee he had just collected.

“What? I don’t know half the people in this contest…”

“How do you know Rabb then?” Omar asked as he took his starbucks cup from Greg’s grasp.

“I dunno, it was just a name on one of the flyers APW sent out to us.” He explained as he passed the change from the drinks and the cigarettes to Olivia with a smile. She mouthed a quick thanks to him before he slowly turned back the two hosts of the show.

“And this is why you need to keep your eye on the situation. They send those flyers out to everyone, and you’ve got to do your research. Do you really think Decker Watts is going to get anywhere in this? The man’s going to get his ass handed to him by people like Aubrey J Parker and Tobias Burden.”

“Then why didn’t you say that before?”

“Because it doesn’t make good radio. We’re here to entertain, and for that, sometimes we’ve got to bend the truth a little.”

“Pretty like wrestler promo’s if you think about it.” Andrew chimed in as Omar nodded his head in agreement.

“You see? I’m sure I could tell the truth about a lot of things, doesn’t mean it’s going to be funny, or entertaining in the slightest. The harsh reality is that Jack Benevolence hasn’t been seen in nearly 6 months, MDK hasn’t been around in years, and the only reason Doug holds the Experts title is because Drake Mosa was there for the distraction. But people still think they’re going to win, because they bend the truth in order to make themselves SEEM like they’re going to win. Really, it’s all chest puffing until the fists start flying. And past that point it’s anyone’s game.” Omar explained as suddenly Olivia felt something vibrate in her pocket.

“So who do you think is going to win then, really?” Greg asked as Moneypenny pulled her phone out, and looked at the message she had received.

“Honestly? Adrien Specter. Guy cut his own tongue out, has set himself on fire numerous times, tapped out countless world champions, and perhaps most importantly, he killed a guy.” Omar explained.

“Wait, really?”

“Yep. In Cancun last year. Straight up killed a guy in front of the world to see. Even went to prison for it.”

“How did he get out?”

“Technicalities. Police did some shady things to him while he was in custody apparently, and that gave his legal team enough to get him out and back stateside.”

“That, and you know…everything legal in Mexico.” Andrew pointed out with a smirk.

“Jokes aside, a man who’s willing to kill for a victory is a man to be feared…and I wouldn’t want to be one of those people stuck in the ring with him…” Omar finished before raising his coffee to his lips and taking a sip.

“If you’ll excuse me for a moment, Gentlemen.” Olivia said as slowly she stood up and made her way to the exit.

“You’ve only got three minutes…” Omar pointed out, looking at the timer on his computer screen.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be back.” She pointed out as she quickly made her exit from the room. Quickly opening the fire exit, she rushed down the stairs towards the car park in the back of the office, and swiftly opened the door. Standing before her was a hooded figure, looking around as if expecting someone to jump out at him at any moment.

“You couldn’t be any more suspicious if you tried.” Moneypenny pointed out as she stepped up to the man, his attention swiftly turning to her. “I also asked you not to text me at work.”

“You’re the one asking for stuff. That means you’re on my timeline.”

“I thought we had an agreement.”

“We do. However I’m seeing my supplier today, which means you’re going to have to make an exception.”

“Which means I’m getting the bottom of the bag?”

“You’re the one who couldn’t wait a few days.” The man explained as Olivia shook her head before pulling out her purse. Slowly she pulled out the cash before handing it over to the man, as he quickly placed a small bag of marijuana and placed it within her hands. Her eyes scanned it for a moment, before looking up at her dealer.

“It looks light.”

“Looks can be deceiving.”

“You’re telling me. Just make sure you call me when you get restocked.”

“Same place next time?”

“As long as it’s not here again, I really don’t care.” Olivia explained before quickly turning and rushing toward the door, trying to get back to the studio before the ad break finished. The hooded figure watched her leave before placing the money within his pocket, and turning away. His eyes looked down the road as he began to make his way from the office block, and towards his destination. Putting his headphones in, he listened pressed play on his old CD player, before making his way down the street.

He walked for at least another hour before he finally reached his destination, an old apartment block that was run down and covered in graffiti. Slowly, he made his way over to the intercom section, before pressing down on one of the buttons.

“Who is it?” A female voice asked down through the speaker.

“It’s Tony.” The dealer explained as suddenly it went quiet down the other end. He waited in silence for a moment before suddenly the door buzzed, indicating for Tony to pull on it. Making his way into the building, he made his way up the stairs; remember the apartment that he had visited time and time again, before finally reaching it. His fish bashed on the door a few times before finally it opened, seeing the woman from the other end of the speaker earlier.

“Hey Tony, how you doing?” She asked, her face pale and her skin dry and tight.

“I’m good. Is he in?”

“Isn’t he always?” she replied before stepping aside, allowing Tony to enter. The dealer quickly made his way into the front room, looking at the man seated on the couch. His eyes watched as his supplier was working with an electronic weight, possibly the most up to date device in the entire room. Even the TV seemed at least a decade old.

“Sup Man?” Tony asked as the man on the couch slowly raised his hand, waving him off for a moment as he continued to weigh up his goods.

“Take a seat.” The Supplier suggested, as Tony sat on the far end of the sofa, his eyes scanning the television. Quickly, an advert came up for Survive and Conquer explaining how to order it on PPV.

“You been paying attention to that?” Tony asked, looking over his shoulder at the man with the scales before him, only to notice that he was paying no attention to him.

“I have…” The woman explained as she made her way back into the room from the hallway, and taking a seat on the floor next to the TV.

“Who do you think’s going to win then?” Tony asked, trying to keep up the conversation.

“I dunno. I like El Pablo.”

“Why am I not surprised?” The supplier asked, as the woman narrowed her eyes at him, not that he was paying attention.

“And what is that supposed to mean?”

“The man is a walking acid trip. You do the math.” He explained, as slowly the woman lowered her head.

“What about you Tony, who do you think’s going to win?”

“I dunno. I don’t really pay attention to wrestling much.” Tony replied honestly.

“Oh come on. Everyone knows at least watches Survive and Conquer. You’ve got to have someone you think can win.” The woman continued to press.

“He said he’s not interested.” The supplier stated bluntly, turning to look at her. Suddenly she went quiet once more, before the man on the couch slowly turned to Tony. “Sorry about her. Here’s your stuff.”

Slowly, Tony went into his pocket, pulling out his money, before counting it out and handing it to the man next to him. Quickly the supplier took the money before counting it out himself, before passing it onto the woman before him. “Take this and go get me some more Clingfilm so I can wrap this back up.”

Quickly the woman stood up before walking over to the supplier, and taking the money from his hands. Swiftly she turned, making her way to the exit, as she could hear the two men she had left behind.

“Sorry about her. Sometimes she doesn’t think before she speaks…”

Quickly closing the door behind her, the woman made her way down the stairs of the apartment block, before finally walking out onto the street, her heels clashing against the pavement. The corner store was only a few blocks away, before she found herself standing out in front of it. Making her way in, a small beep echoed above her head, ringing out to announce her arrival, before she made a b-line to the kitchen utensils. Swiftly picking up the Clingfilm she had been sent for, she made her way to the register, greeted by an Indian man, who narrowed his eyes at her.

“Anything else?” He asked accusingly, as she slowly shook her head at him. “$3.99”

Quickly placing the money on the counter, she picked up the wrapping and made her exit, just as the cashier opened the register and placed the money within it.

And there, the dollar lay dormant. It’s view of the world opened from time to time as the register opened and closed, watching as it’s clones both arrived and left in payment and change. This continued, until finally the day was done, and the cash register was emptied.

The shop opener took the cash, before taking it to his apartment above the shop. And there he counted it, writing down the totals in his ledger, before placing it within his bank bags, ready for collection tomorrow. An hour later he was done, unsatisfied with his totals, but there was little he could do about it now. Slowly getting up from his chair, he slowly made his way to his bedroom, before getting undressed and climbing into his bed.

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

“Hasan?” his wife’s voice called out, as slowly the shopkeeper’s wife popped her head around the corner, “Time to get up.”

Slowly Hasan rose from his bed, his eyes still slightly groggy as he looked to his clock on the side table.

7.30am.

Finally climbing out from under the sheets, he rose, before swiftly getting dressed. Swiftly he made his way out of the room, before walking up behind his wife, kissing her on the cheek as she put the kettle on.

“You’re going to have to watch the shop for a little while, I’ve got to go to the bank.” Hasan explained as he walked back over to the table. Picking up the moneybags, he swiftly made his way to the back entrance of the store. “I’ll be back in an hour.”

Quickly making his exit, he made it towards his car and swiftly made his exit towards the bank. A few minutes passed as Hasan drove down the street, before finally reaching his destination. Turning into the bank’s car park, he quickly made his exit from his vehicle, picking up his bags of money as he left, and made his way towards the entrance. He walked over to the depositing booth, a place he had been week after week, before handing over the bag to the woman within it.

“I’d like to make a deposit.” Hasan explained, as the woman took the money from him with a smile. Her eyes quickly looked over the bag with his business address clearly printed on them, before she gave him a quick nod in acknowledgement.

“Thank you Mr Shepi.” She replied as he nodded, before making his swift exit. Slowly she rose and placed the money down a sorting shoot, making sure the bag was correctly sealed before sending it on it’s way, before returning to her seat. She paused for a moment to enter the information of Hasan into the computer system, before slowly another man approached her booth.

“Hello, how can I help you today?” She asked as slowly she turned to look at the man before her.

“I’d like to make a withdraw.” The man replied slowly.

“And how much will you be taking out today?” She asked, as slowly the man raised a metal suitcase upon the counter with the words ‘Survive and Conquer 2014’ printed across it’s front.

“One million dollars…” President Jeff replied with a smile.

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

As President Jeff made his way towards the ring, he felt something of a sense of elation. He got the same feeling year after year at this time, knowing what was about to come to fruition. It was time for him to make an impact upon the wrestling world once more. Year after year his federation called out for those who deemed themselves worthy of a true test. And year after year a selection of unquestionably the greatest talent in this wrestling age came forth.

However, this year was different. That sense of pride was partnered with a bitter melancholy taste. For this year would be his last at making this same walk. After years of making his way into the empty arena, and stepping between those ropes, placing that final prize within its rightful place. In a number of hours, millions of people will look upon this ring as 80 competitors all look to claim that final prize.

Many would do it for the money. Some simply for the glory. A few attempting to reclaim their lost opportunities from years before. The harsh reality that regardless of reason, there would be only one winner.

Slowly Jeff climbed between the ropes, the suitcase handcuffed to himself as slowly a cable lowered from the ceiling. He watched as he stood under it, his eyes scanning it as it approached. Slowly he raised his arm, uncuffing the case from his wrist, and attaching it to the cable before him. As he slowly clipped it onto the rope, he finally took a step back, and watched the case rise for the final time.

He paused for a moment, looking as the case rose up out of his reach. Out of the reach of any normal person, but perhaps that was the point. No one wanted to see any mere mortal win. No man or woman who was nothing more than talk. They wanted a true test. They wanted to prove they were better.

Finally, after a moment, Jeff took a step back, before turning and exiting the ring. He turned his head back to look at the case one final time before climbing off the apron, and making his way to the back once more.

And there our singular dollar waits. Surrounded by 999,999 other dollars just like it. It’s journey coming to a close as it passes from hand to hand. However now it waits. It waits to see who can rise above. It waits to see who hand it will cover in a few hours time.

It will wait to see who truly will Survive and Conquer.

OOC: Word count: 3901

["Ballistic" Bryan Deas]

Everyone is gearing up for the 2014 Survive and Conquer event. A lot of people are going to do whatever it takes to win, but many want to know why people don’t concern themselves with this one person and that is the woman who is named Destiny Loveheart. Everyone is concerned about who is going to win, but what people need to worry about is Destiny! I mean, just think about it, if people don’t worry about what is in front of them, they may not look like a winner, but a loser! And right now, Destiny is standing in front of the camera as she begins to speak.

Destiny: Well, a lot of people aren’t really that concerned about yours truly!!! They are more concerned about winning this damn event…..well?

Destiny pauses for a minute before speaking.

Destiny: So am I, bitches! You see, there were rumors going around that the man who entered this thing last year, and yes, you all know his name…..

Another pause is met.

Destiny: What? You don’t know his name? Well, most of you know the man known as “Ballistic” Bryan Deas, and why didn’t he enter this year? Well, when I heard about this Survive and Conquer thingy, I went to Bryan himself and asked him if I could take his place, but Bryan just laughed at me and he said, “Destiny, this is my time, and I don’t need no second rate wrestler to take my place!”

Destiny just laughs at that.

Destiny: Second rate wrestler, huh? Well, you know, there is a price for anything, and anyone can be bought at the right price, so, when Bryan turned me down, and when he signed up for this thing, I went back to my roots, and I pulled out some money out of my trust fund! Yes, I have a trust fund and that was some of the fund, mainly over $250,000! So, I went back to Bryan with the briefcase, full of the money, and said to him, “Here, Bryan, will this be enough to get me into Survive and Conquer?” Well, without him saying another word, he took the briefcase and said, “Knock yourself out, Destiny, but remember, if you lose, it will be YOUR fault!” So, there you have it folks, the man who is a legend in his own mind has a price, and apparently, money is root of all problems in life! Now….

Destiny pauses again.

Destiny: Now, that I am in the Survive and Conquer event, I am not going to tell you about how I am going to win, but I AM going to win….confused? Well, let me explain……

Destiny just takes a deep breath before speaking.

Destiny: You see here, my name says it all, and I don’t need to come up with a gameplan in how I am going to win this event. I am just going to go out there and just win it all. Even though I can win cash money, a trophy, and bragging rights…..this is going to be a very special night for this Loveheart, and rest assured, even if I don’t win this event, I will make sure that no one ever forgets the name of Destiny Loveheart. So…..

One last pause from Destiny.

Destiny: So, to everyone in my group and to everyone else…..don’t ever count out the underdog or in this case, don’t count out YOUR Destiny!!!! See you in that ring, folks!!!

With that said, we fade to black.

[rottentreats]

KSCHHH!!!!
The static fades into blackness.

“Hi guys and gals. Mr. Rottentreats here, aka the Whole F’N Sideshow, aka The Pagliacci of Professional wrestling. Whoop whoop to Pat Gordon Jr. for coining that last one! However, I’ma take those whoops because he talked me into this mess. Sorry ya aren’t seeing my beautiful painted face right now. The thing is, I’m tucked in a deep dark corner of St. Andrew’s Hall. And to be quite frank, I should be focused on what’s about to go down here. My dad would be pissed if he knew I was thinking beyond the present. Anyhoot. Survive and Conquer. I don’t really know if I’m excited or anxious about this deal. A battle royal, followed by a cage match, followed by a street fight, followed by a hell in a cell ladder match, followed by.. Oh wait, that’s it isn’t it? What.. In.. The.. Fuck..”

A photo of Mr. Rottentreats overtakes the darkness. His painted face buried in his bright white gloves; his fluorescent green hair hiding the tips of his fingers.

“Come to think of it, it’s not anxiety or excitement. I’m still wondering where the unneeded object on a pole is in this match. Yeah, I’m shit talking a match that I actively pursued a spot in. I told you I was bullied into this by Pat. Gordon, not Kay Anthony.. I’m doing it as a favor to Pat. But don’t get the wrong idea, I’m not going to be helping him dump people over the top rope. Or am I? Maybe, just maybe he’s promised to split the winnings with me if I helped him out. Or maybe, he just offered me an ice cold, Candy Apple Faygo..”

The photo of the Whole F’N Sideshow is swiped away by a picture of Pat Gordon Jr. and Mr. Rottentreats. The two seem to get along just famously. Upon closure inspection, that’s not PGJR at all; it’s a rather realistic manikin.

“It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve participated in a dastardly deed for a bottle of dee-licious pop. I helped my homie Douglas Divine survive school, and he paid me in Faygo. I mangled many a face, for many a 24 ounce Candy Apple. You know what, that’s my motive. And as much as it’s going to piss off my lovely fiancé if I don’t win that Milli Vanilli, I’m not in it to win it.. I’m in it to help Pat Gordon Jr. win it! Three scoops of WHOOP for Pat Gordon Jr. WHOOP, WHOOP, WHOOP!”

The WARPEDWrestling “W” spins onto the screen, stamped by a prohibition sign. Both are quickly covered by the goofiest looking photograph of Pat Gordon Jr. in existence.

“There you have it trolls and trollops, you heard it here first! I’m not representing WARPED, I’m representing Pat Gordon Jr.! Unless, my other homeboy Madman Szalinski sweetens the pot with a pound and a jar of his finest. I guess we’ll find out on the twenty-sixth, right? That is if I’m healed up from tonight. Truth be told, I’m just doing this in hopes that promoters without a hard on for hardcore bullshit will see it and give me a shout. Despite my clownish good looks, I can actually fuckin’ wrestle ya know. See ya in Munich.”

KSCHHH!!!

[Reya Serra]

The Day Of The Herald

It has been months since I had last stepped into a wrestling ring for an event. Months since I was eliminated from a battle royal hosted annually by Sin City Wrestling, the particulars of which now I only vaguely remember. I had decided then that it was best to take some time off, to rest and recuperate from the injuries I had sustained over the course of the last year or so battling from one corner of the world to the other. I could have walked away for good if I wanted. Though a few would have mourned my retirement, I have no doubt that there would have been several times as many people celebrating…

Yet those rumors of my retirement have been greatly exaggerated. With my injuries fully healed, my period of recuperation is complete and I am looking forward to getting back into the ring. I want to compete again...and for those that doubt me I will assure them that my best days are far from being behind me.

I suppose those people cheering about me hanging up my boots will not be celebrating now, will they?

“So where are we going?” the young brunette in the dark blue dress better known as my best friend Paxar Vega asks curiously as we sit inside of our limousine as it travels through the countryside. “Another trip to the Berlin Wall? I know we’ve been there before, but...”

“No,” I reply, cutting her off as I keep my gaze on the countryside view through the window.

“Brandenburg Gate? It looks pretty in pictures I’ve seen on some of those travel brochures,” Paxar states as she continues pondering. “I wonder if they allow weddings there…”

“We are not going there either,” I tell her clearly, breaking my gaze to look into her chestnut eyes. “Also, you are yet to even be engaged…”

“It’s gonna happen, Reya. I know it,” Paxar states emphatically. “Michael’s the love of my life. Other than you he’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me. It’s just a matter of time before he gets down on one knee and pops the question. Before you know it, we’re going to be married and I’m going to officially be Mrs. Paxar Jennings.”

“That is unless he would prefer to be Mister Michael Vega instead,” I say to her with a hint of humor and a bit of a smile.

Narrowing her eyes at me slightly, Paxar appears somewhat agitated. “Nope. Absolutely not. Not gonna happen. Now quit trying to change the subject, Reya...where are we going?”

“You shall see when we arrive,” I declare with a nod.

Paxar lets out a heavy sigh. “I swear every time you say something like that we end up somewhere creepy and Germany’s a creepy enough country as it is. I already feel like I’m coming down with a case of the Raabs just from being here.”

“Perhaps you should see a physician to have that looked at once we leave,” I tell her jokingly. “In any case, we shall not be in Germany for long. We are only in the country for this event.”

“And what about when it’s over? Then what?” Paxar inquires, raising an eyebrow at me as the limousine comes to a stop.

“We have arrived at our destination,” I state to her, ignoring her previous questions. “Come, they are expecting us.”

Opening the door of the limousine I step out, instantly feeling the cool German air upon my face. Paxar follows behind almost immediately beginning to shiver from the cold as she takes a look at our surroundings.

“T...This…” Paxar stammers, her teeth chattering slightly. “W...What is this place?”

“This, my dear, is Dachau,” I declare with a strong tone of somber seriousness as I walk away from the limousine towards the entrance.

“Da...Cow?” my friend repeats, butchering the pronunciation in the process as she follows me closely. “Never heard of it.”

“No, no…” I say to her, shaking my head. “The name is Dachau. It is one of if not the most well known of the German concentration camps from the Second World War.”

Suddenly, Paxar stops dead in her tracks directly in front of the entrance gate. “You...You can’t be serious…You want to go in there? You’ve spent too much time near Manic…”

“Not only am I going in there, Paxar...but there are still barracks here after all of these years. I have made arrangements for the both of us to spend the night here,” I tell her.

“N...No...No way, Jose Canseco,” Paxar declares loudly, shaking her head wildly in disapproval. “Not gonna happen. I’m not stepping one foot in that place, let alone staying the night.”

“You would rather I stay alone?” I inquire, raising an eyebrow at her curiously. “I shall if I must, though you do not appear to have another alternative seeing as I instructed the limousine driver to leave us and not return until morning.”

Turning around, Paxar looks back the way we came to discover that what I had said was accurate before turning back to me. “...Fine,” she grumbles angrily as we resume walking into the camp, passing through the gates.

Noticing them almost immediately upon going beyond the gates, the two of us spend the next few minutes quietly making our way to the barracks and entering them. “Now tell me, Reya...why in the world do you even want to do something like this anyway? Coming to Germany, spending a night in a fracking concentration camp of all places...nobody even expected you to take part in this event to start with, so I doubt they would’ve been disappointed…”

“Perhaps it is time for one last bow, before my career is put upon the shelves,” I speak softly as I walk over to one of the bunks. “Or perhaps merely another chapter of it begins now, when the clocks start striking twelves…”

“Well that was kind of a wishy washy answer,” Paxar complains, frowning slightly. “I just hope for your sake that going through all of this is actually worth it, that you accomplish whatever it is that you want to accomplish…”

Paxar pauses for a few moments before speaking once more as she makes her way to a bunk and sits down on it. “I...I’m going to try and get some sleep. I probably won’t be successful what with the ghosts and general creepiness of this place, but I’m going to try. Good night, Reya.”

“Good night,” I say to her as she lies down on her bunk and I take a seat on mine. Staring across the room, I begin to mutter to myself. “This...this is a test of strength. I am not yet finished. No, I am just getting started. God willing, winning this match against all of these competitors shall prove that to be the case…”

“You are not going to win.”

Feeling slightly surprised, I glance over to Paxar who appears to be sound asleep on her bunk. Shaking my head slightly, I turn my attention back to gazing across the room. “I shall win this.”

“You are not going to win, Reya...”

I take another look at Paxar, but still she sleeps. “I shall win this. I have faith in myself that I can do so.”

“Where has that faith ever gotten you? Bruised, bloodied, and beaten...every single time. You are not going to win this, Reya. Just accept it.”

“No,” I respond angrily, trying to keep the volume of my voice down. “I cannot and will not accept that. I will win this…”

“No, you will not. You are destined to lose. Try as you might, but the result shall be the same regardless. You shall not win.”

“I will win…” I snap back. “I must.”

“But you will not. You are a failure, Reya Serra Janason…”

“I am not a failure,” I growl furiously.

“Yes, you are. You always have been a failure. You always will be.”

“I AM NOT A FAILURE!” I shout loudly at the top of my lungs as I stand to my feet, startling Paxar to the point of waking up from her slumber. “DO YOU HEAR ME? I AM NOT A FAILURE!”

“Reya, what in the fudgecakes is going on?” Paxar asks as she gets up and makes her way towards me. “Why are you yelling?”

Ignoring her, I begin to break down slightly with tears starting to roll down my cheeks as I continue shouting. “I WILL SHOW YOU! YOU SHALL SEE!”

“Show who? Who will see?” Paxar questions as I fortunately collapse into her open arms.

“I am not a failure…” I mutter softly as I cry into the shoulder of Paxar. “I will win...I must...I must...”

✝

To whom it may concern,

Most who will read this were probably not expecting to hear anything from me for quite some time or perhaps ever again. After all, I was not even expected to take part in this match given my choice to take some time away from the ring. Yet here I am fully recovered ready to compete, and compete is exactly what I shall do.

Seeing as it has been so long since I wrestled in an event, perhaps I should remind you all of just who I am. I am Reya Serra Janason, The Herald of Holiness herself. Those that have stepped into the ring with me in the past, they know that I am not one to be taken lightly nor should they do so now. I am every bit as formidable as I once was, if not more so now that I am one hundred percent healthy.

As for those that have yet to stand across from me in the ring, here is a glimpse of how tough of an opponent that I can be. Now, being an upstanding Christian woman one would think that I have participated in barbaric matches...and while I can state with certainty that I heavily dislike such matches that I have taken part in several of them. I have made men more than twice my size bleed more blood than I contain in my entire body. I have buried a man alive and even gone so far as to crucify one upon a cross. I myself have even been nailed inside of a casket, barely managing to escape.

I have faced kings and queens, standing my ground and even going so far as defeating them in battle on more than one occasion. Masked men, a man who now lacks a tongue with which to speak, men who fought amongst themselves for control of a Siberian prison...I have stood opposed to them all...and still I stand today.

Even a stray lightning bolt that struck me down could keep me down for long. My faith in the Lord keeps me going, it sustains me longer than the stamina and through more pain than most of you can possibly endure. You may knock me down, but I shall get back up. You shall make me bleed, but I will still continue on. It will literally take everything that you have to defeat me...and even then everything that you have may not be enough to finish the task.

Some of you are going into this match thinking that this is your time to shine, to either make a name for yourself or to cement your legacy in this business. My name was made long ago and my legacy cemented long since, but I am sad to break this news to all of you boys and girls…

This is my day.

This is the day that I have my hand raised in victory while standing tall over the bodies of seventy nine other men and women. This is the day that marks my return to the sport that I love, even if that return ends up being short lived.

This is my day. Not the day of the mute, or of the benevolent one, or even the day of the darkest star. This is the day that the one that many thought was a failure captures one of the biggest and most prominent prizes that this sport has ever had. I will win the day and leave the rest of you wondering about what could have been, but never would have been.

Today is my day.

Today is the day of The Herald...and I suggest that you do not get in the way of what I seek, nor ever forget where you were on this special day. Do not forget what you see when I step into the ring, ladies and gentlemen. It could be the dawn of a new age or perhaps my final swan song. In either case, I will leave everything that I have in that ring with no regrets.

...and when the day is over? I shall stand victorious over the lot of you, an inspiring image to remain for all to see for the rest of eternity. I shall have not only survived, but I shall have conquered.

In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti.

Sincerely,
“The Herald of Holiness” Reya Serra Janason

[kuwop]

"What the hell do you want with ANOTHER million dollars, Kenny?" She just couldn't ponder it. As we rode on the Jersey Turnpike, I slumped down a bit, leaning against the door. From the corner of my eyes, I saw her roll her eyes and shake her head. It was all for good reason.



She always thought I was greedy when it came to my fortune. After all, both of us were raised from humble beginnings. In the south suburbs of Chicago, we played on concrete lawns. My family in particular wasn't dirt poor but we made it look that way to everyone on the outside looking in. "Trina..."



"You want to a million in cash nigga? Because the bank is still open, and even if it wasn't, you can call Marvin up right now." Marvin, my personal banker, has been working for me for a good three and a half years. He's seen me withdrawl duffle bags full of cash and deposit twice that amount. He was the man I had wire 70% of my capital assets to various accounts in countries with only the most stable economies. Anyone with half a brain could see that I wasn't a fan of working under the system.



But what can you do? I was pretty much untouchable, and everyone who truly knew me knew that. "That's what you don't get Trinie." I sat up for a second readjusting my seatbelt that was irritant to my neck. "I didn't even know there was a cash prize when I signed up. Thought it was purely bragging rights." APW's Survive and Conquer has been something I've looked forward to every year since dabbling in the wrestling business. This is my first year actually entering, however, and there's good reason for it. I opened up the glove compartment, pulling out a small box of Swisher Sweets and a glad bag piled to the zipper with greenery.



Yes, I'm a pothead you're judging me right me now aren't you? Fuck off, it's medicinal. Well no it's not but still fuck off. I pull one of the blunts out of the package before tossing the box back in, all the while contemplating what I'd even do with the money if I won it. Unfortunately, I didn't get a chance to be alone with these thoughts. "What are you even gonna do with another million dollars? And investing it isn't an answer, Kenneth." Dammit.



"Why does any of this even matter to you? We haven't really talk-talked in months." It was true, Trina was a woman of my past. The only reason I'm in the car with her is because she agreed to give me a ride to New York City from my friend Brandon Banks' house in south Jersey. "I mean, seriously, I don't even know what I'd do with the money. Probably just give it away."



I was never a man to live beyond my means with extravagance and lavishness unless it was necessary for the occasion. I still parlay in my old hood. I still shop at walmart and only buy what's on sale. This pack of blunts were on sale 5 for the price of 3. "Give me a break. You are far from a philanthropist."



"Really? You don't know me at all. I don't give money to these fake ass organizations like Make A Wish or Susan G Komen so that means I don't give back?" I didn't believe in mainstream charities. My trust fades the more someone tells me they're a not-for-profit group...especially if that's what you devote all of your time to. I wouldn't dedicated my life to something unless I could actually live off it. Shaking my head at her false assumptions, I threw the blunt foil into an empty styrofoam cup, licking the cigar vertically before cracking it down the middle. Everything I did was calculated and clean. "I have my ways. As unorthodox as they may be to some, the shit I do makes sense to me and that's all that matters quite frankly."



Trina couldn't help but let out and nod while doing that cute thing with her lips that she always does. Sometimes I wish things didn't end the way they did with us. As the blunt guts fell slowly into the cup, I looked at the old brown tobacco and it disgusted me. Opening the bag of Kucci Kush (yes I developed my own hybrid strain, you should try it), I pulled out a random nugget not caring about the size as long as it looked sufficient. She looked over at me and couldn't help but crack a smile. "Ugh you just never quit do you?"



"Whatcha mean?" I closed the bag up and threw it back inside of the glove compartment before shutting it. I start breaking the weed up, not looking at her directly but knowing exactly what facial expression she had painted on. After all, I've known her all my life. Seen her grown from a little girl to a grown woman just as she saw me from a little boy to a bigger boy. "You know you miss my blunts. Don't front yo."



She let out a chuckle. "Not that stupid...even though you maybe right. I meant with this whole Destiny thing you're always on about." I look up ahead for a second thinking 'here we go again'. "Destiny this. Destiny that. I'm gonna fuck her tonight. She's just playing hard to get. Blah blah blah." I talked about reaching my destiny as if she's a woman. I never had a problem getting women so Destiny should be no different right?



"Whatever you say Trina. I didn't sign up for this because of that either." I leaned back in the seat, luckily the slight sag I had in my basketball shorts made for the perfect table to hold my phone, lighter as well as a working station for the blunt rolling. At this point I was more focused on the pearl of the roll than I was on the conversation. I just didn't get why it meant so much to her. "Again, why does any of this matter to you?"



"Because I care about you and your health. In 21 days, you're going into the biggest match of your career. Hello? Reckless Endangerment Three? Main event? Platinum chamber for the Platinum championship? Is any of this ringing a bell in that thick pale head of yours?" As if I had no idea what I had on my plate. Shit, if she knew everything I was dealing with right now (professionally and personally), she'd turn the car around take me to a psychologist. "I just don't think you know realize that this isn't the Survive and Conquer of 2013, 2012, 2011, and 2010. You aren't just going to be throwing guys over the top rope. Once you get past that part you're moving on to a steel cage. Then if you make it out of THAT you're going into a street fight. THEEENNN if you make out of that unscathed you're going into a HELL IN A CELL LADDER MATCH KENNY!!!



"You're assuming I make it that far." Which I highly doubt.



"You're Kenny Kasual...or Kucci Mane Kuw--" She can never get through saying it without laughing. No one can say it with a straight face. "Look I know how fucking good you are better than you do. You're going to make it to the finals and you're going to rip yourself apart doing so. Seriously, how the fuck are you going to deal with all of that AND be a hundred percent to compete at Reckless Endangerment?" I had no idea but that was the whole point of this. I wanted to test my limits. I wanted to see just how much I could withstand.



Once I had all the weed packed into the pocket of the swisher, I started tucking and rolling slowly making sure nothing fell out and everything was tight. "I'm taking this shit one step at a time. How close are we to the GWB?" She looks up at the exit sign we were approaching. It was exit 15X passing Secaucus Junction.



"Probably about 15-20 minutes depending on traffic...don't change the fucking subject Kenny."



"I'm not. We can't cross the GWB until we get to the GWB. And I can't fight these battles until they come. One. Step. At. A time." I saw the frustration in her face lighten up a bit. She knew there was no telling me anything. The more someone told me what I couldn't do, the more incentive I got to do it. Just my Natural nature. She let out another laugh.



"I understand all of that. But just think about it logically. If you make it to the end, win or lose, you're spending a day or so in the hospital. As soon as you get out, it'll be crunch time for Reckless Endangerment." Not gonna lie, hearing her talk to me about all of this was a bit of a turn on. No other woman I was ever involved with (including my current pregnant girlfriend) was that interesting in my wrestling career.



I guess that what was so special about Trina. We've grown together and through thick and thin. She'll always know me better than I know myself. "Guess what?"



"What Kenny? You know you're not as invincible as you think you are. You'll literally kill yourself."



"Maybe I'm trying to."



"...Excuse me?" Her eyes squinted up as she scratched her hair. "What the fuck are you talking about?" She wouldn't understand without me telling her shit she can't know.



"I don't know Trina. Maybe somewhere in a dark place in my mind, I want to burn myself out. Maybe I want to push myself over the edge. I really don't see how it can be any worse than how things are right now." Just as I finish licking down the last section of the blunt, I feel a pain in my chest. These are pains I've been feeling sporadically for a month now.



"Kenny you aren't making any sense. You have everything right now. A kid on the way, all the money and fame. You're on top of PDW...hell you're one of the hottest in the industry right now. All your friends are behind you..."

"And still I have nothing." I light the blunt up, taking a long hit talking as I exhale. "My father's still on death row. My friends are getting killed left and right. I have this shit going on with Vino and Rafik. I'm in a relationship that I don't want to be in. I literally trapped myself." I took another hit, looking out the window because I know her facial expression right now is shocked and she's about to ask hella questions. "Wrestling is the only thing in my life I'm satisfied with and that's only because I've gotten so much better and I've gotten so close to solidifying a legacy in this game. Imagine if I win Survive and Conquer AND manage to pull off winning the Platinum Chamber? If I die doing that, I'll die happy."



She really didn't have anything to say. I passed her the blunt and she grabbed it while keeping her eyes on the road and on the lookout for police. "Kenny...why do you do this to me?"



"I didn't wanna tell you all that and that's just a piece of it. Don't take my bullshit as a burden. I can handle it on my own." I've done it all my life anyways. No one's ever handed me shit that I didn't flip into something much greater. I make a living out of making meringue pie from the lemons of life.



"It's not a burden. Know I'll always be here for you." She says passing the blunt back to me.



"Yeah but how long will I be here for you?"

=====================================================================



K.U.C.C.I



Kenny usually creates controversy inevitably. It's just something I've been prone to do since I was a little kid. Looking at all of the names in the Survive and Conquer groups, my name stands out the most. I guarantee you all thought I was a parody of Gucci Mane the rapper. Good, I want you to take me as a joke. In fact, I'm banking on you doing so.



"I'm not your average wrestler." Everyone says that don't they? Everyone thinks they're just so original. Everyone wants to convince you that they're this larger than life persona that is destined for greatness. Who the fuck are you to me? A jury? Judge? I'm no fucking lawyer. I'm an artist.



My work paints the picture for you clearer than I could ever with simply just words. Now I'm quite familiar with APW and have been for a long time. I've seen the Level Ones, Red Shield Mafias, Hurricane Jeffs, Terry Marvins, Sally Talufords, Biggs and Matts, you name it. I've watch wrestlers from all over the world, and they all have one thing in common: They break their necks to get people to see them in a separate light from others.



You aren't getting that here. I'm not the guy that sits in my basement with piles of wrestling tapes each week to study my opponents. I'm not the guy that doesn't take any of his opponents seriously either. A true realist.



A true Natural.



I've neglected to sign up for the past Survive and Conquer events for the simple fact that I didn't think I could compete. I spent years perfecting my craft inside of the ring and with all of the titles I won, I still never felt confident enough to enter. Sure, I could have thrown my name in the hat just to see, but that's not who I am.



When I do something. It's because I plan on finishing it. Me finally signing up for this means I have every intention on winning. I'm ready to go the distance. I'm ready to destroy whoever the fuck I gotta destroy to win.



I'm not a supernatural being that's talking to you from an obscure alley. I'm not a thug just because I'm from ChIraq. I'm not a preppy entitled fuck like you'd expect a man as rich as I am to be. For what? You've seen it all before. I've seen it all even more. The gimmicks. The catchphrases. The attempts at intimidation. All the physical obstacles that come with this competition.



It doesn't faze me.



I'm too hungry to be caught off guard. I don't need a million dollars. I don't need a trophy. I don't want a new fanbase to kiss my ass and stroke my ego. I don't have shit to prove to anyone but myself.



K.U.W.O.P



Kenny usually wins on purpose. Nothing I do is on accident. I'm coming into this match with one thing on my mind: winning. No disrespect to my opponents...some I know personally some I know of some I have no clue about....but you're all grey drones as far as I'm concerned. That doesn't mean I'm downplaying you. It's just the mindset I must have if I want to win this thing.



None of you know what it's like to always be one step from the top of the mountain before falling off. When the people closest to you can't even comfort you enough to pretend they believe in you, you can somewhat relate. When I told people I was entering, I just got a head nod and shoulder shrugs. Maybe some good lucks.



I know I'm not on anyone's radar to win and quite frankly I don't give a fuck. This isn't going to be a popularity contest. I don't care who won last year...I don't care that this maybe even be my last chance to prove myself in this kind of match. I'm taking it one step at a time.



It's kind of like rolling a blunt. No matter how well you pack the weed, some may fall. It's about how you adjust to make sure it's the best blunt it can be. If you do it right, it'll smoke. You'll get high. I'm putting my body through hell because I want to test my limit. I'm sick of living so complacent that I no longer take risks.

I'm not going to run down a laundry list of accomplishments because they don't matter. I'm not going to call any of my opponents out by name but that doesn't matter either. Half the battle is a mental war. I'm more concerned with getting inside of my own mind than getting inside of any of yours. But you best believe....and I mean BELIEVEEE. After Survive and Conquer, win or lose....



You'll never look at my name and laugh again.

[Evan De Parker]

”BEAUTY: A WORK OF FICTION”

January 17, 2014
Frederick, Maryland
6:28 P.M.

Yo.

So… I’m not sure who my target audience is right now. I’m coming to you as what they call an “e-fedder” which is a… writer, for fictional events that occur in the confines of text and occasionally pixels on a variety of websites. I mean-- I guess if you stumbled upon this, then you’re already fairly aware of what that entails, so I won’t bore you with the details, y’know? I do have an interesting story for you, however.

You can choose to believe it. Or you can take the smart route and interpret it as a work of fiction. Whichever.

My name’s Dimitri. I created and at points may be guilty of vicariously living through the characters Evan Envi, Ashlyn De Luca, and possibly most notably, Aubrey J. Parker.

This isn’t an ironic story about how hard I plan on working to win APW’s Survive and Conquer. This isn’t even a story about Aubrey J. Parker’s life, or her journey from a vanilla, cookie-cutter side-character in the late two-thousands, to the self-proclaimed “wrestling juggernaut” she is in 2014. This is the incredibly brief, maybe fictional story about what happened when I met Aubrey J. Parker.

Maybe.

*****

”So it’s a book about witches…”

”Uh-huh…”

”And it has spells in it that supposedly real--”

”Totally real.”

”Right, totally real witches used and got killed for. Am I getting this right?”

”You nailed it.”

”So you basically brought the devil’s work into my house.”

”Youuuu definitely have a way of putting a really negative spin on these things, but yes.”

”Fair enough. And what are we gonna do with it today?”

”Makin’ shit come to life.”

Now-- what you just witnessed is the totally nonfictional account of my conversation with my best friend and aspiring voodoo practitioner, AJ Parker. Yes. Her name… is indeed… AJ Parker, so go ahead and judge me, chubby internet troll.

We were standing in my room, which was unfortunately a harmless endeavor due to my prolonged visit to the friend-zone, but a welcome one nonetheless. She had this huge, leathery book in her hands and it bore significance here because, upon seeing the book, just memorizing its image, I used its supposed powers and mysticism to create this sort of paranormal persona for an aforementioned character of mine, Aubrey J. Parker. She existed in a universe that I couldn’t even attempt to explain to even some of my closest friends. She was important to me, and that was something that I couldn’t express to anyone. Not without stumbling all over myself.

That was why today was so interesting. My aspiring voodoo practitioner and myself were balls-deep in dark magic and sorcery for the purpose of creating a walking, breathing, perfect best friend for ourselves; Aubrey J. Parker. ‘ Upon realizing that I’d created a fictional character, loosely based on her, AJ was (as you can imagine) originally caught off-guard. I don’t remember how she found out. I think she Googled my name, or her name, or something, and three skeptical texts and an annoyed voicemail later, I was left with no option but to explain to AJ who AJP was.

Fortunately, as you can see, it went fairly smoothly. She was more flattered than she was creeped out. And when she came at me with the proposition ”Dim, let’s make her real” you can probably imagine my completely indifferent reaction.

”Sure.”

What could it hurt, I figured at the time.

So we did everything we were required to do, and it was a surprisingly small amount. We boiled the water. We found a Polaroid-- an original Polaroid that captured the image of one Lea Michele that AJ had spent hundreds of dollars on, and we foolishly threw that into the water. We threw in sugar. We threw in ginger root. We threw in shed snake skin. We got weird.

She chanted in Latin. I watched, criticizing her for being crazy and white, but I couldn’t do it aloud, because I agreed to this shit. I think at one point, my ass was chanting right along with her. I guess it was a good thing, because after minutes, after absolutely nothing happened, we laughed. I said something along the lines of

”Glad we got that taken care of. Pack up the bong.”

And unsurprisingly, we didn’t think much about it after that. We probably got high and forgot about the jar of odd ingredients that sat on my kitchen countertop. We probably wouldn’t have acknowledged it if what happened next simply hadn’t happened.

But it did.

It happened.

goin’ up to the spirit in the sky…

jan.18.fourteen5:14am

”Don’t fucking move.”

My eyes opened, and I was awake before you could’ve counted to one. My room was still dark. I frantically tried to recollect the events that transpired shortly before I fell asleep. I knew AJ was theoretically somewhere in my house, but that voice-- it didn’t belong to her.

”What-- who is that?”

”...I should be asking you.”

I went to sit up, but she hissed a warning toward me.

”I said not to move!”

Maybe I was more afraid of what would happen if I didn’t move, but I propelled myself upward, off of my bed and to the floor. I didn’t care if it was a rough landing… I was entangled in the sheets. Kicking them off of me, I scrambled over toward the wall, feeling my way up to the frame, using it to guide my fingers over the cool wooden finish of the wall and onto the lightswitch, flicking it upward…

”Holy shit.”

Aubrey J. Parker.

That’s all I got.

”A-- Au-- Auh-- Auuubb--?”

Standing there in what I could only best describe to you as “nightwear”, Aubrey J. Parker, the supposedly fictional character manifested within my own mind, drew her hand back and thrust four knuckles into my throat. I gagged. I coughed. I may or may not have vomited. And I went down, collapsing in a heap as Aubrey J. Fucking Parker stepped over me and scrambled out of the room. I tried to crawl after her, but it took several seconds before I was even able to taste another precious breath of air. Finally, after what seemed like ages, I made it to my feet, and I stumbled out of my doorway-- into the awaiting arms of AJ.

”Was that--?”

”I… ow… think so.”

AJ’s eyes lit up and her lips curled into a grin.

”It fucking worked!”

”Excruciating pain. Ow.”


jan.18.fourteen5:42am

And I didn’t know it at the time, but Aubrey J. Parker, the newest inductee into the real world, was having a far more difficult time than either AJ or I could’ve possibly imagined.

”Ma’am, I can try to transfer the call to the number you requested, but I can assure you, we don’t have a Talon Wilkinson here in our Sprint records. And we certainly don’t list any area codes beginning 555.”

”Thanks. THANKS. You guys are fucking worthless.”

Aubrey hung up the phone. She hardly recognized the area she was in. She knew due to the bitter cold and the time displayed on every clock available to her that she was somewhere in the northeast U.S., or mid-Atlantic. With a sigh, she turned the camera of her iPhone on, flash and all, and turned it on herself, trudging through the streets of what she would later discover was Downtown Frederick, Maryland.

”For anybody that stumbles upon this video… it’s finally happened. I’ve lost my actual fucking mind.

I don’t know how I did it, and I don’t know how many drinks and painkillers led to this, but I’ve found myself in what I think is Mayland. I’m maybe a week or so away from the biggest event in my career and I don’t even know how I GOT to this place. And… ha, that’s just fucking fantastic, right? I guess it makes for the perfect story in the long run. Aubrey J. Parker, the girl who has it all, suddenly finds herself in the unemployment line, not once, but TWICE in a matter of months. She’s prescribed some painkillers and then on top of what motherfuckers are incorrectly labeling as a pre-existing drinking problem, she literally LOSES herself, finding herself hundreds of miles from where she calls home…

...and then she shocks the world as she’s become so accustomed to doing. The ultimate APW Undisputed Champion fights through her addictive personality and overcomes the likes of Tobias Burden, Adrien Specter, Jack Benevolence, Doug E. Fresh, and even Aurora Jansen, AND SHE FULFILLS HER DESTINY, and wins Survive and Conquer 2014. It’s a whole fuckin’ turnaround.

This is just a setback.”

She turned the camera off and looked over her phone, opening her contacts once again. Scrolling through, she realized that every number was useless. Standing there in Downtown Frederick, feet away from a darkened bar known simply as “Mirage”, Aubrey had started to lose hope. In one more final attempt at salvaging what she knew as reality, Aubrey closed her eyes and took a deep breath, begging and wishing to the closest thing she knew as God to just take her home--

”Aubrey!”

”What the…”

She opened her eyes and I guess that’s when she saw me. AJ pulled up the rear, jogging behind me. Both of us were out of breath. Stoners to the grind. We don’t run.

”You can’t just run away like that. You hit him… in the… GODDAMN we are out of shape.”

”Oh God. Let me sit down for like-- two.”

And Aubrey watched behind half-lidded eyes as AJ Parker and I sprawled ourselves on the sidewalk, begging our hearts to not explode in our chests.

”Can we not? It’s bad enough that you people kidnapped me, but I can’t even get a signal in this stupid town. I don’t have time for this psychotic celebrity-kidnapper bullshit, okay? I have like, EIGHT DAYS to prepare for--”

”Survive & Conquer.”

”We know.”

Aubrey folded her arms and turned her nose up at us, responding in a quiet tone.

”Well, yeah. Anybody with a TV would know.”

That’s when it really hit me. Whatever AJ had done… it was real. I would’ve chose not to believe it given the option, as you were, but I wasn’t. Aubrey J. Parker was standing there, unaware of what universe she was in. A part of it was sad, but a much larger part of it was endearing.

”Aubrey… nobody is gonna--”

”Dim?”

AJ nudged me, and for good reason. How do you approach somebody and tell them to their face that they don’t exist? Aubrey looked between the two of us, unimpressed, and then sighed, glancing at the clock on her phone.

”How much do I have to pay you guys to get me on the next flight to Vegas?”

”Er. Nothing. You don’t have any money.”

”The fuck are you talking about, kid?”

”I mean… we probably can’t get you to Vegas. Not on a plane, anyway. We’re gonna need to find a way to get you back home.”

”Dude, whatever. Just figure it out. Ugh… where can I get a drink around here?”

AJ looked at Aubrey with a grimace.

”At six in the morning?”

”Umm, yessss, simple bitch. You two are stressful, and I’m apparently so hungover that I don’t even FEEL my hangover. So let me get on my own level, mkay?”

”Oh… Uh…”


jan.18.fourteen6:10am

So we did.

We made our way into the only open bar in Frederick at the time, Lucky’s Tavern. Needless to say, upon making our entrance, all eyes fell upon Aubrey. We were lucky that none of the sweaty, greasy hillbillies in attendance recognized her for her completely unrelated (and nonfictional) counterpart, Lea Michele.

Unfortunately, it only took three drinks, which were consumed in rapid succession, for Aubrey to begin spilling her life story to our Frederick neighbors.

”...and then I made Sally tap out. That’s how I became the final Action Packed Wrestling Undisputed Champion. And the crowd, they booed me, and they threw things at me, and they told me I sucked…”

”Bastards!”

”They don’t know what real rasslin’ is!”

”Bahaha, ohmygod, RIGHT?! That’s what I said! But it’s whatever. The past is the past, and in about eight days, I’m gonna be in Munich, Germany. And I’m gonna beat like, seventy-nine other people, and I’m gonna win Survive and Conquer 2014! You watched me last year, right?!”

”Hell yeah!”

They didn’t.

”We order it every year!”

They don’t. It doesn’t exist.

”Mmmmmm, then you already know what you’re gonna see this year, right? I mean, all these motherfuckers are trying to say that Jack Benevolence is supposed to win, or maybe even Adrien Specter, but why does everybody forget about Aubrey, ya know? Like-- I am the best fucking wrestler to stumble her way into an APW ring and they never wanted to give me the respect I earned! Annnnd… mmm… I need another drink.”

No she didn’t.

”Get the lady a drink!”

Roughly five or six feet away from the bar, at a table, enjoying a glass of orange juice which tasted oddly like dish-soap, I watched behind tired, bloodshot eyes as AJ flipped through her book of witchcraft and sorcery. Maybe it was the crankiness, but I couldn’t help but urge her to hurry the process along.

”Seriously, dude. Is there anything in there we can use to just… send her back? She’s gonna run off sooner or later, and then there’s gonna be a whole fuckin’ federal investigation and then they’re gonna lynch us. Or burn us. Or whatever they do to witches.”

AJ rolled her eyes from behind the pages of the book.

”Dim, please. It’s 2014. They’re gonna think Aubrey’s some crazy foreign chick with no form of identification, lock her away for the rest of her newfound life, aaaaaaaaaaaaand-- I found it!”

”You found the spell to send her back?!”

She raised her eyes from behind the book to meet mine with a devious smirk on her face.

”Do you hear how silly you sound?”

”I’m serious. Can we send her back or not?”

”We caaaaaaan, we can. We just need everything we gathered up before. Water, sugar, ginger-root, snake skin…”

AJ lowered the book and looked down at it for a few moments with what I can best describe as a hopeless expression. She sighed and shifted her eyes. Her gaze never raised toward mine again, but she responded in the softest tone.

”And she needs to drink it. If she wants to go back, she has to take herself back.”

I could hear the doubt in her voice, but I clenched my jaw, refusing to give in.

”Fine. Then she’s gonna come back with us right now and she’s gonna take it. AUBREY, LET’S G--!”

Pushing myself up from the table, I glanced in the direction of the bar. Aubrey, and her two redneck mystery men had disappeared. I felt my neck grow hot. I felt this odd tingle run down my spine… like when your kid’s been away from home for too long and you can just vibe when something’s amiss. It was like that. They were gone.

”Well, shit.”

I turned to AJ and groaned.

"Now what?"

She gave me an uneasy, unknowing look followed by a shrug.

"Iunno. How do you feel about prayer?"

gotta have a friend in jesus

jan.18.fourteen6:31am

”Greetings, Survive and Conquer fans. It’s me again.

After a HELL of a mishap with a couple of hooligans somewhere in Maryland, it appears that I’m back on track. With the assistance of my new friends-- err… what were your… names?”

”Denny!”

”Ben!”

”Uhhh… yeah. With help from Ben and Denny, I’m making my way back to Vegas, away from this monstrosity of a town with their rabid, criminalistic fans, no offense, guys, and I’m preparing to come straight at all nineteen of you in Survive and Conquer’s third group. If I’ve gotta do it, then I’ll launch each and every single one of you over that top rope. To be honest, I’d prefer it that way. I’d love a chance to send an entire legion of Deckheads headed back home with their heads hung in shame.

Hell, I’d love to watch the fans that came in droves to support the STS collapse BACK into their seats in disappointment when Aubrey J. Parker kicks Adrien Specter right in the side of his head and sends him head-over-heels over that top rope.

It’s not my goal to disappoint you people, but the way I see it is this… seventy-nine of the best in this business are gonna be disappointed after next Sunday, so why not allow myself to be MOTIVATED by that? Huh? What’s wrong with feeding off of that negative energy? There’s gonna be a ring full of men and women that are gonna be doing everything in their BEING to crush what I’ve spent the past calendar year working for… and they’re not gonna be able to do it.

These people-- they look at me, and they mistake me as someone that's good enough to almost get it done, but they FOOLED themselves into thinking that I'm not following in Terry's footsteps, ha. I did have the most impressive year in wrestling, and do deserve to follow it up with my name in lights, with my hand RAISED after a hellacious Survive and Conquer series. I earned that, and I'm gonna prove it next Sunday. One way or another, I'm getting to Munich and I'm taking what's had my name on it all along... Right, boys?”

”Hell yeah!"

”That spot ain't goin' to no one else if we got anything to say about it!”

Actually, they didn’t have anything to say about it.

Aubrey was seated between Ben and Denny in the cab of a 1984 Ford F-250. She scrunched her nose, occasionally fanning her face to avoid the harsh smell of Newports as they drifted from Denny’s mouth and nostrils, right into her own, but it was what came next that truly raised the Undisputed Champion’s blood pressure.

”You guys got any food?”

”We got jerky.”

”Fuck, my blood pressure… ah, hell, give it to me.”

And what happened next raised it even more.

”Denny, who the hell’s that flyin’ up on our ass?!”

It was us.

”Hell if I know! Sheeeeyit, maybe it’s them kids from the bar! You high-tailed it outta there with their woman!”

It was.

”I’m not their woman! They’re some crazy wrestling fans and they kidnapped me so I couldn’t make it to Munich. It’s a part of some kind of fucking conspiracy to prevent moi from taking home that Survive and Conquer trophy!”

Alright-- that one was pretty far off-base.

”We’ll handle this right now. Pull over, Ben!”

AJ and I were surprised to see the flicker of brake-lights from the F-250 ahead of us. They stopped in the middle of the road, which I should’ve found odd at the time, no matter how dark it was… and no matter how empty the road. Perhaps we should’ve been a little bit more apprehensive when we saw both sides of the cab fly open, and both of the burly hillbillies we’d encountered earlier made their exit from the vehicle. I turned toward AJ, who sat in the passenger seat, frozen in complete and utter panic. Throwing the car into park, I sighed and asked her in my calmest voice:

”Do you think they’re coming over he--?”

And I was promptly yanked from my seat, thrown roughly to the asphalt below.


jan.18.fourteen6:40am

I was only able to remain calm because, not that it’s any of your business, this isn’t the first time I’ve been pulled out of my car and thrown viciously to the ground in Frederick back-roads by drunken rednecks. Hardly.

”Ow… um… mornin’, fellas? It appears that you’ve got something of ours--”

”I told ya, Ben!”

He did.

”Shu’p!”

The burlier of the two, Ben, is the one that I assume was standing over me. His eyes were like black holes. He was wearing a sleeveless white shirt which looked like it used to advertise Pepsi. He wore two leather, fingerless gloves and raised one into the air, pointing a grimy, unwashed finger toward Aubrey, who finally stepped out of the truck.

”You know who she is?”

”Yeah… Yeah.”

”TELL HIM WHO SHE IS, BEN!”

”That’s the former APW Tag Team Champion. Former Suicidal Champion. North American Champion. Test forrrrr theeee BEST winner! UNDISPUTED Champion. You know who she is, boy?”

”Yes.”

”You know what she’s gotta do in eight days?!”

I looked at Aubrey from my position on the ground. I tried to push myself up, but I was met with a familiar boot to the gut instead. I groaned and lied back down on the cold, unforgiving ground. These country roads… they were singing, whistling in the night as the wind blew through the trees and birds did what they could to wake the surroundings neighborhood. In spite of its serenity, I remember wishing I was anywhere else. I remember wishing I was home, writing a fucking roleplay for S&C.

”In eight days, she’s gotta win Survive and Conquer. But she’s not gonna do that if she goes with you.”

AJ watched from the passenger seat of the car with wide eyes. She sat there, shaking, frozen in fear, but she listened just as Ben and Denny listened.

”Aubrey is one of the best things I’ve ever imagined. But that’s all. Imagination. And with her help, I’ve placed her in these surreal situations that I could never imagine myself recreating… not in this universe… I mean, I’m guilty of it. I lived through her, in this sick kinda way, and I hid it from people, y’know? I guess I liked this idea of her accomplishing all of these great feats on her own. I liked the idea of her being her own person… ow…”

I sat up again, wincing, bracing myself to be struck, but I was silently relieved when that never came.

”But that’s not what it is. It’s a team effort, and she could run away, and she could cease to exist within hours, or-- or whatever the fuck happens when the spell wears off, and maybe I’d never remember making her. Maybe I don’t win Survive and Conquer, but that’s fine. I’ll get over that. But Aubrey deserves to come back with us, and she deserves to win. She deserves that life, y’know?”

Denny turned to Ben with an arched brow.

”What’s he yappin’ about?”

Ben had no answer, but Aubrey gradually drew closer, the same skepticism painted on her face all the while.

”So you’ll take me back to Talon?”

We all turned to her. I stared at her. Maybe she ignored everything I’d said, or maybe she didn’t believe it… maybe she didn’t care. I didn’t have the heart to tell this stranger the truth.

”Yeah.”

Almost instantaneously, her demeanor changed. Her smile broadened and she clutched her handbag to her side, making her way over toward AJ and I.

”Good. I mean, this is like, WAY more hitch-hiking than I’d like to participate in for one day, buuuuut when a million dollars and the most prestigious ‘title’ in the world are what hangs in the balance, you gotta do what you gotta do, right?

This is one of those things… that I’m gonna look back on in a few years, and I’m gonna be disappointed in myself for letting myself get inebriated to the point where I don’t even remember my own travels, but it’ll just be another piece of this beautiful story. CONGRATS, children! You’re a part of my long, tortuous journey toward the mountaintop!

You too, had the tiniest part in Aubrey J. Parker climbing alllll the way uppp… and winning Survive and Conquer.”

With that, she slid into the backseat of the car and looked up at me, expectantly. My heart still pounded heavily in a mixture of pain and exhaustion. AJ was still frozen in the passenger seat, knuckles white as she formed fists on her lap, refusing to move. Aubrey leaned forward between the seats, shooting me a wink from the inside of the car.

”Beep-beep, driver-boy… my time’s valuable.”

A work of fiction.

[Delikado]

The scene opens with Delikado, your favorite guy ever for a FACT, sitting at the computer, typing with intensity not unlike that shown in the ring every day when he actually shows up for matches. The door behind him opens, and in steps the Cuban’s protégé, Jimmy Gooch. The young man eyes Deli with a look of initial surprise.

Jimmy Gooch: Whoa, Delikado, what are you doing at that computer? Shouldn’t you be getting ready for Survive and Conquer, which is, like, soon?

Delikado spins about in his non-rolling chair and faces his Padawan, smiling with an energy that is great and stuff.

Delikado: Fear not, Delikado’s redneck boy sidekick, for Delikado already has all the means at his disposal to face the Survive and Conquer, not to mention come out ultra-victorious.

Jimmy: Really, how so? I’m sure the whole world wishes to know your secrets, Boss!

Delikado: As should they, for we are in some part of Germany, Jimmy boy, and the Germans ALWAYS want to know the means of obtaining power. Fortunately, a Cuban will show them how it’s done, just like the first time around, and then the Cold War will be back on; rest assured this time the right side will win…LIKE A BAWSE!

Jimmy: I don’t think—

Delikado: Jimmy! What did Delikado teach you?!

Jimmy: …Oh yes! “Thinking is for stupid people.” Thanks for the save, Boss. But, err, how DO you plan to bestow power upon the Germans through Survive and Conquer?

Delikado holds up his left foot, which is covered in a boot.

Delikado: “Game.”

And now he hoists up the right foot.

Delikado: And “Match.” BAMMY-O-BAM! Heh-heh-heeeeeeeh…

Jimmy: Cool! And so what are you doing on that computer?

Delikado spins back around in his chair to the computer, motioning young Jimmy to join him.

Delikado: Delikado has found this cool new game that’s going around on the Interwebs. It’s called “e-fedding.”

Jimmy: “E-whatting?” Sounds pretty high-brow, Boss. Are you sure it’s legal?

Delikado: Totes-whatevsies one way or the other! Delikado’s got too much SWAG to be put down by “legal” or “illegal” or “statutory.”

Jimmy: Well what is it?!

Delikado: It’s where some guy creates a website where some other guys come together and write. But…..competitively. As wrestlers, make-believe, in a make-believe company. Right now, Delikado’s signed himself up for this e-fed called…well, it’s not important. As himself!

Jimmy: Whoa.

Delikado: Get ready to whoa the whoa outta that whoa, cuz the e-fed’s hosting a make-believe Survive and Conquer, and Delikado’s thrown his imaginary hat in the game!

Jimmy: My whoa just got pregnant with another whoa! So how do you win? You know…competitively?

Delikado: You just write and hope you out-write the other guys in the eyes of your judges.

Jimmy: Could we bribe the judges with Paypal?

Delikado: We could! But if there’s one thing that’ll prove our manliness in the eyes of the world, Jimmy, it’s beating strangers over the Interwebs in a battle of cut-throat wordplay. For see the future ahead, as we can write ANYTHING we want in e-fedding! Anything goes in this Survive and Conquer of the e-fed Delikado is presently in.

Jimmy: But what about the Survive and Conquer of RIGHT NOOOOOW?!?!

Delikado: One in the same, for if we can rule them here, we can rule them in reality. It’s science, Jimmy, science with a little bit of nanotechnology and interracial porn!

Jimmy: You’re pulling my leg!

Delikado expertly cracks his knuckles.

Delikado: Pshaaaaaaw! Delikado’s already got his group in the Survive and Conquer, and everyone in the really-real match has signed up on the website to challenge ME, Delikado, in the battle of e-fed Survive and Conquer, where winner takes all and is a GOD! We gotta jump on that shit, Jimmy! Let’s get crackin like blackin!

Delikado pulls a champagne bottle out from under the desk he’s sitting at, pops the cork, and downs half the bottle. Inspired, he and Jimmy lean in toward the screen and begin to “crack like black.” The screen gets fuzzy as dramatic music plays.

OUT-WRITE THE FOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOLS!
SURVIVE AND COOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONQUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUER!

Fade-in to the words “Survive and Conquer: TONIGHT!” on a big-screen. Delikado and Jimmy Gooch are seen walking coolly.

Announcer: You know him. You love him long-time. And you’d make him your “Fuhrer” if one guy hadn’t ruined it for the rest of us. He’s the 2014 Survive and Conquer winner, Delikado!!!

Cue montage: Delikado is seen hoisting a ‘Survive and Conquer’ belt in the air as money rains down on him. The Cuban jumps up and down as applause echoes all around him, piles of bodies, his rivals to the glory, lying in a jumbled mass in the background.

Now Delikado is skiing into the ring elsewhere sometime later, as more applause and cheers resound throughout the arena for his very physical awesomeness. Off-screen voices echo.

Fan #1: He is, like, THE greatest thing ever. And I should know, I’m one-year-old and I taught myself English just to say it!

Fan #2: The way he beat--*static* at Survive and Conquer, to win the whole thing?! I mean, did you SEE how he *static* **static* in the face, or maybe it was his chest or *static*. Yeah. We all knew it was something different happening that night! …..Oh, whoops, guess I better fly this plane now.

…*explosion*

Fan #3: He’s been Boss, he was Rabid, and even POPE! Now I think we’re gonna be talking about “Conqueror” Delikado in the many eons to come. The Cuban Conquest has begun, bitches! Here! Deli, if you’re watching, take my crown!! I’m not giving it to that stupid fucking Royal Baby or NOBODY! Nobody but you! You! YOOOOOOOOOOU!

Announcer #2: Introducing the Man of the Year 2014--Eternity: Delikado! The Survive and Conquer Winner!!

All: Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay!

The montage continues with Delikado, dressed like Thor for no reason, walking on-stage and giving the masses of people a wave.

Fan #4: You know WHY all wrestlers aspire to be like Delikado? Cuz he personifies the best stuff about being a wrestler. He can be ANYBODY and still be great! And if some new smooch comes along, Deli can take on his personality and, like, his SOUL too! He’s deep, cuz. Ultra deep and shit!

The dramatic music gets ever dramatic-er as more voice accumulate on the previous ones.

Hater #1: He’s stupid! Turn off your televisions when that CLOWN comes on it! Better to follow the likes of, I dunno, Christian Kane. He’s super cool and sexy, and I’m not just saying that because I’m Christian Kane…DAMN IT! PS, I’m sexy.

Announcer #3: Russell White and Jack Benevolence riled up the Russell White Supremacist group today, along with all the losers from the rest of the Survive and Conquer, not to mention the even more watched E-fed Survive and Conquer, and the legions of Deli Haters burned down Deli Tee Vee for the twenty-sixth time.

Announcer #4: In a retaliatory strike, Delikado discovered five new planets this afternoon, and proceeded to tell all his defeated and “super jelly” foes that they were not welcome to anything except the lack of oxygen if they tried to invade Delikado’s new worlds and say he was not the winner of Survive and Conquer 2014.

Announcer #5: Please welcome the FOURTH addition to the human being sex: Delikado!!!

Delikado skips through flowers in a dress while smoking a cigar. He tosses it over his should and gaily frolics as fires start to burn behind him.

Announcer #6: It’s horrible! Even though he won the match over 300 years ago, the losers of the 2014 Survive and Conquer have just bashed down the laser gates to Delikado’s space palace and have begun to deliver all their finishers to him…AT THE SAME TIME! I’m not even sure HOW he got moonsaulted while simultaneously taking a kick to his chin and being pile-driven into a chokeslam DDT chokehold Crippler Crossface, but BAH GAWD DELIKADO DID IT!!! And by Harald Hardrada’s underarm hair, the fans have all been poisoned against their Cuban Conqueror and have begun to wedgie his fallen form! Wake up, Deli! WAKE UP!!! Armies upon armies upon armies! It’s a massacre toward this beloved wrestling demigod-made-actual-God! The entire galaxy’s population! And the next galaxy just arrived by taxi to aid in the carnage! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!

But wait…WHAT IS THIS?!

Delikado just got up…AND SHRUGGED IT OFF! HE NO-SOLD THEIR MOVES, ALL THEIR WORDS AND ATTRIBUTES AND OTHER STUFF! It…It must be the power, the power nestled deep in the Cuban’s boobs ever since he wrote that super awesome roleplay that won him the e-fed Survive and Conquer 2014, which in turn won him the REAL Survive and Conquer 2014!!! He just defeated all his old foes AGAIN! And he just cleanly defeated two galaxy’s-worth of people!!! Delikado has survived….AND CONQUERED…AGAIN!!! And now he’s flying away in the sun with his trophy! Thank you, Deli! Thank you!

……

We return to the real-world where Delikado is verbally speaking the lines he’s typing on the screen for his roleplay for the make-believe contest. Jimmy and several other people are standing in the room, staring at the Cuban in a mix of confusion and embarrassment. Delikado has been oblivious the whole time as he finishes his work and does a fist pump. The dramatic music drops and the Cuban looks over his shoulder. A long awkward pause follows as Delikado’s smile lessens and he slowly turns back to his roleplay on the computer screen.

Delikado: Eh….maybe Delikado exaggerated a little bit.

Staffer: “A little?” Your roleplay gave me Type 8 diabetes.

Everyone mumbles in agreement and begins to file out of the room, except for Jimmy who shrugs.

Jimmy: I liked the “Russell White Supremacy Group” bit.

Delikado: Somehow that doesn’t surprise Delikado…

Delikado cracks his knuckles again and returns focus to the computer.

Delikado: Let’s see…

The camera focuses on the computer screen as Delikado opens a new Word document and begins to type. We follow the words as they appear on the screen:

The stage is set, and there’s no way of knowing just what Delikado, Da Bawse, will bring to Munich, Germany for Survive and Conquer 2014.

The screen gets wonky again as we enter a new dramatic video based off Delikado’s competitive writing shenanigans.

BOOM! BANG! BLARGH!!!

Delikado: Fools! Delikado’s adversaries for the Survive and Conquer!

Delikado stands on a podium dressed like Marlon Brando in “The Godfather.” Smoke billows all around him as he wields a pimp’s cane and twirls it expertly. Suddenly, Christian Bale as seen in “American Hustle” hobbles into the shot alongside the Cuban.

Christian Bale: Oh, they done it now! They’ve called you OUT, Deli! Summoned YOU!

Delikado: And Deli’s got the power! Puppet master before your EYES, magnetism to your EARS!

Bale: Four groups, only one man can be the Conqueror!

Delikado: So listen to ME now, and you’ll know what’s what! Delikado’s back on the scene, and despite having served suspended animation since last year, he gonna waste ALLL YOUR ASSES in Suspended. DAMNATION!

Bale: I’M BATMAN!!!

Both men extend their arms at their sides, suddenly wearing Batman-like capes, and they fling themselves off the podiums as dramatic music and pyro go off just because I said so. We see mirages of all the other Survive and Conquer competitors, standing in line and at attention, dressed like Nazi soldiers. Delikado and Bale land before them, snap up almost over-dramatically (like such a thing could exist), and robotically spread their arms, breaking the Cuban’s opponents up into groups of four.

Bale: We’re gonna chew through them inch by inch, little bit by bit! It’s a game of thrones, only it’s not a game and there’s not really a throne! There’s just Delikado, and then there’s NOT-Delikado’s! Just listen to this man’s words, never raise any lip, and be told nothing but Delikado-supported-enforced scientific FACTS!

Delikado appears within the ranks of the “Group 3” and marches among them dressed like an 11th century Crusader. He pulls a sword out of his sleeve, points it at a few of his mirage opponents, and speaks out to none of them in particular.

Crusader Delikado: Deli sees you all, doesn’t recognize any name but Aubrey’s—

He drops and then appears beside the “AJP” mirage. She stands at stone-statue attention, like she’s not even real, but it doesn’t stop Delikado.

Delikado: You’re hot, but not hot enough. Pretty sure in another life in another business, we might just bang. Not to say we wouldn’t bang NOW!

Delikado proceeds to smack “AJP” on the butt and then licks her cheek (face cheek, pervs!)

Delikado: Nothing personal, baby, but nobody ever heard of a “Conqueroress.” SHWING!

Delikado swings his Crusader sword, dropping the girl into a hole that appears in the ground. Delikado twirls his chain-male clad body about and marches among other foes.

Delikado: All you weird-name people, raise yo fucking hands!

Everyone but “The Nameless” raises his hand, to whom Delikado leaps toward next. The Cuban pulls out a sharpie and a “Hello, My Name Is_____” nametag. He scribbles something on it and then slams the tag onto “The Nameless’s” face. It reads “Dunce” in the open space.

Delikado: Come back to Delikado’s match when he knows what to call you, BITCH! Oh wait—SHWING!

Again he swings the sword, dropping the nameless foe into another magically-appearing pit. He snaps to the other silent rivals of the Group 3.

Delikado: Now be clichés, tell Delikado you’ll “Survive and Conquer”! Do it over and over til you wanna explode!

The remaining foes turn to face each other and begin to rabble out “I will survive and conquer” over and over as Delikado smiles.

Delikado: Because how will the tards know what to do in the match unless the Pay-Per-View TELLS THEM!? KEEP SAYING IT, DELIKADO SEES YOU READY TO BURST FROM THE GENERIC!!!!

A few men begin to snap, crackle, and ultimately POP from “Survive and Conquer” overload, getting a squeal out of Delikado.

Delikado: Now call your companies and tell them you’ve preemptively FAILED! With Delikado in your Group, they’ll understand! CALL THEM! IN HELL! SHWING!!!!

Delikado throws the sword like a boomerang, dropping the rest of his group. Group 3 promptly explodes, and Delikado turns to the other remaining Groups.

Delikado: And now to deal with the rest of you—

BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEW

*power outage*

Delikado sits in a dark room, the computer having gone out.

Delikado: My…My…My roleplay!

He drops to his knees.

Delikado: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! ….Ah well, at least Delikado gets to see Jack Benevolence again.

The End!

[kylico]

* * *

He’d been in Vegas for the better part of the week, even after his match on Wildcard had culminated in victory for him. He could have been on his flight an hour after his match ended, in his own bed beside his own wife and content with his lot that week slotting right into the ‘not complete shit’ category... frankly by this point, as he climbs out of his cab by the gaudy lights of the Luxor casino – where he’d often plied his craft for Sin City Wrestling – he’d much prefer to be back in LA.

Not to say he didn’t have a soft spot for Vegas, quite the opposite, he’d had some of the best moments of his personal and professional life there. It’s just that he simply wasn’t there for pleasure, or even to wrestle on this day...

... no, Tobes stayed behind in Vegas, as opposed to going to be with his family, for something else entirely.

The familiar sight of the building isn’t what raises the hair on the back of his neck, rather, where his destination that lay within it did. He takes a deep breath to steel himself and walks on...

* * *

{Our camera fades in from black to reveal one Tobias Burden, grey-blue eyes staring into the lens as he sits on the edge of a weight bench, his t-shirt soaked almost clean through with sweat and auburn locks tucked beneath a worn baseball cap}

Tobias Burden: So here I am, I guess. Finally on my way to an APW event.Finally in this veritable cluster fuck known as Survive and Conquer. That’s right folks, Tobias-goddamn-Burden is finally here. Among the likes and gracing the same ring as Aubrey J Parker, Level One... and Terry Marvin. Cue the streamers and the parades and the endless “Oh fuck, he’s here” comments

{At that the former CRW Apex champion starts laughing. Bitterly. He gives his head a shake before glaring into the lens again.}

Tobias Burden: Oh wait, I forgot. I’m not Jack Benevolence, or Doug E Fresh, or Adrien Specter. I’m just that guy that one day appeared in Code Red Wrestling and annihilated a good portion of their roster, but nobody anyone cared about. Nobody that would make a fed full of deluded motherfuckers the likes of which would claim that someone like Sally Talfourd is just the Bees-Knees sit up and take notice of me.Even though they bloody well should have.

{A pause}

Tobias Burden: But alas, such is the fate of my career and everything that follows it, eh?

{A humorless smirk crosses his face}

Tobias Burden: I’m not the favorite and I never have been. Every place I’ve ever ventured into, ever looked to battle at, they don’t know me. They’ve NEVER known who I am or where I came from. Even when I spell it out for them it always boils down to the fact that I’ve never wrestled anywhere they heard of, nor beaten any of the top guys they know. I’m never worthy of their respect nor admiration. I get no quarter nor fear...

{He pauses as he wipes a strand of sweat running down towards his eye}

Tobias Burden: I have constantly had to rebuild myself because every time I sign my name to a contract I get a blank slate, a clean history. No signing bonuses, no ridiculously lucrative signing bonus. Not a goddamn thing. You know, I reckon that a good deal of people would be more than happy to have that type of anonymity, that kind of luck to have zero expectations put upon you when you enter the ring and look to go to war with a whole slew of new faces that will inevitably run the gamut from rivals to bitter enemies.

{Tobias snorts derisively}

Tobias Burden: Unfortunately for me the last time I signed for a company I needed that notoriety. I needed to be a name, a face to be feared and respected and I just didn’t have that. There were no expectations put upon my shoulders and thus, no signings boons, nothing from the people up top that’d let me know my interests were their interests, and their interests were in keeping me happy and pacified....

{His head cranks to the side, earning a satisfied grunt as his neck pops}

Tobias Burden: Code Red Wrestling soon learned their mistake. I injured some of their top earners and embarrassed others, I forced even the least critically thinking mouth-breathers shelling out hard-earned money for over-priced pay-per-views to take a good look at where that money was going. To the glad-handers and proverbial – sometimes literal, in Siobhan McKenna’s case – dicksuckers all that cash was going to while us on the outside. Just there to do a good job were constatly ignored and swatted aside until we became a problem too big to ignore.

{A predatory grin crosses his face at this.}

Tobias Burden: Some of these names you see and excited to witness on the message boards and dirt sheets know, though... about the type of chaos I can bring with me when I’m inspired to cause very literal anarchy. It’s half the reason CRW isn’t even a company anymore. It’s why Jun Mazuki was wheelchair bound for half a year. It’s why I managed to convince Gryphon to put me in an environment where I was allowed to take a fucking cheese grater to a man’s face on national television. Because as much as you all - from you in the seats and watching television right this very moment, to the interviewer backstage, to the guy’s in head office hand selecting their stars based on how clean-cut and safe they look – claim to hate me, you’re also compelled to watch me. To see the violence a person like me can breed...

{A chuckle}

Tobias Burden: ... of course, that also requires you know who I am in the fucking first place. As it is the lot of you are primarily wondering who this short, squat motherfucker that none of you recognize thinks he is, what with all this shit I’m speaking. So I’ll make this brief...

{He runs a hand through his hair as he takes a breath to sort his thoughts out}

Tobias Burden: I’m a journeyman of this sport. I’ve been to places most of you would be hard pressed to remember or have even heard of. You may have hated the places I’ve worked at – like TKOW – or heard tell of the company of old – like IGA – right down to even wondering what type of sociopathic critter could even comprehend the type of place I worked and thrived in – Hardkore World, in this case. At every place I’ve brought my best, with no intimidation or regards to the fact that you people may claim that my opponent could be the very best, ever, bar no discussion. I stood across the ring from Adrien Specter, and Terry Marvin, and Rex Evans. I’ve fought them all, tooth-and-nail with every bit of blood and rage I’ve had, and even if I hadn’t managed to beat them I have left them all knowing, hurting, and sometimes regretting that they stood across from me. Or maybe I assume too much but the bottom line remains, the indisputable fact: ‘They fought Tobias Burden’

{He points into the lens}

Tobias Burden: ... and they will never forget that fucking name for as long as they have their wits about them. By the end of Survive and Conquer, I hope to have had the same effect. For as many people will rush me, and try to send me over the ropes to the outside, a heap of shattered bones and broken effort I will leave everyone I meet gobsmaccked at this man they overlooked or never considered a threat. If that means I have to launch them to the floor, punch them in the face, or pitch them off a ladder that has no earthly right being on top of a fuck-mothering cell, then I’ll do it, and slip into the realm of hushed whispers and promised violence once again.

{He leans into the camera}

Tobias Burden: ... hope you’re ready...

{Fade to black}

* * *

Their eyes are on me again and it damn near makes my skin crawl as I continue my trek through the parking garage. Eyes accusing or curious, but mouths silent. They recognize me just as they always have in this building, but it wasn’t time for another Wildcard and I certainly had made it more than clear that I didn’t live in the area.

I round the corner and come to a stop. The brown doors are a surefire marker I’m close, after all, I’d studied the tape almost religiously. The security team’s eyes still trace my every step as I venture across the laneway until... yes, this is it...

It’s almost non-descript now, the blood and the investigative tape long since a thing of the past. Whether it was the casino’s doing that it was clear and no longer being viewed at to impede their clientele’s joyous trip to losing their saving’s accounts within, OR if the LVPD just didn’t take pro-wrestling seriously I wouldn’t know.

No doubt about it though, this is where the body landed.

In the end one great man had gotten his wings clipped, not by another person, but by the roaring of an engine and a bumper.

No clue who, no leads

I hated to admit I admired the man in question but I couldn’t lie to myself, many a time did I reflect on what had happened to him and get consumed with anger. It wasn’t fair, I’d never get my loss back.

The I considered who it was I was talking about and knew better, he could claim different, but one day down the line, it’d happen...

... Terry Marvin would rise back up...

... I’d be the first in line to greet him...