Group 4 RP's

[President Jeff]

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

1 RP, 4000 Word limit

Doug E. Fresh Vs Rowyn Starr Vs Pat Gordon, Jr. Vs Johnny Knuckles Vs Ethan Drake Vs Persephone Waters Vs Milla Vs Aurora Lynn Jansen Vs Riley Owens Vs Arkia Fisk Vs Dexter Jacobs Vs Lord Peter Vycious Vs Johnathan Mills Vs Faith Skyler Vs M.D.K Vs Charlie Luzon Vs Shiloh Chapman Vs Jason Kash Vs Brytain Montgomery-Rollins Vs Katherine Stryfe

[lordvycious]

Survive and Conquer. It did not seem like such a bad motto at all. In fact, it suited him perfectly. Since his introduction to the duelling world a little over three years previously, Lord Peter Vycious had, by and large, managed to Survive. Now, come APW's big invitational event, he hoped it would be his time to Conquer.

It had all been Claressa's idea, of course; just another step in her plan to garner a level of exposure the likes of which his career had never benefited from before. Torneo Extremo, a few weeks before, had been the first, and his appearance as a last-minute replacement - albeit for the wrong team - had worked wonders. Claressa was confident Survive and Conquer would be all that much better - after all, as she had so sensibly pointed out only the other evening, he would not be a mere replacement this time, but one of the names on the roster. This was bound to draw in whatever fans Peter had managed to amass throughout his career, while simultaneously exposing him to an entirely new audience ripe for the captivating. Circumstances, they both agreed, could not be more perfect.
She really was an angel, his old friend, Peter mused with a vague smile. Helping him through such a difficult patch in his life, striving with him to relaunch his career at a higher level than before, always keeping his best interests in mind. He owed her a great deal, and he silently vowed, by fair means or foul (but preferably fair), not to let her down at the upcoming event.

To achieve this goal, however, he would first have to become familiar with the opposition, and it was to that end that he turned his gaze and attention back to the tablet screen across from him. On it, a series of PDF and DOC files, YouTube videos and web-site biographies painted the possible picture of the nineteen opponents in group D of the Survival match. Of those, he had only managed to gather sufficient intelligence about one - Pat Gordon Jr., who competed in the same promotion as the son of a friend. Young Nigel had been more than happy to oblige, and as a result Lord Vycious found himself in possession of a wealth of information regarding the FRONTIER wrestler. He had also hoped for a confrontation with Victor Creep, the cad who insisted on humiliating him at his home promotion, NGIW, but regrettably it was not to be. Still, there remained eighteen names about whom he knew precious little, and whom he would have to measure forces with in scarcely more than a fortnight.

He heaved a great sigh, in spite of himself, and looked at the clock on his iPad screen. The display indicated it was two-thirty in the morning, well past his usual bedtime. Faintly, as a ghostly whisper in his mind's ear, he heard the melodically reproachful tones of his young wife: "Pookie! Come upstairs, it's, like, really late!" He shuddered, but before he could etch any other type of reaction, another voice emerged, drowning out Brandice's: "PETER! Focus! You want to win, don't you?"

"I do, my dear", he heard himself respond, softly. Then, as if driven by some invisible force, his hand reached for his mobile telephone, and before he knew what had befallen him he was dialling Claressa's number.

"Did I rouse you, dear?", he asked with a touch of concern upon his manager's sleepy reply. Claressa was visibly trying to keep the exhaustion out of her voice as she replied:

"No, Peter, it's fine. What are you still doing up? You need your sleep if you're going to Survive and Conquer!"

"I know, my pet", the Lord stated, wincing at the reproachful, scolding tone in her words. "I was assessing the opposition, and I had the queerest urge to telephone you all of a sudden..."

"Well, you've telephoned me now", Claressa said, sleepiness creeping into her voice despite her valiant efforts. "Now go to sleep. I'll speak to you in the morning."

"One moment, dear", the gentleman pleaded, fortunately missing the slight gasp of exhasperation his words were met with. To him, therefore, there was absolutely nothing amiss when Claressa replied:

"What is it, Peter?"

"I...well..." He did not know how to properly word his question so as to not come across as doubtful or uncertain. The truth was, the unearthly voice from miles away, just a moment ago, had unsettled him, and made him assess the situation in an entirely new light. Finally, after a moment's dallying, he opts for: "Do you believe we are doing the sensible thing? With Brandice, I mean, and my personal life, and my career?"

"Of course we are!", his manager retorted, with more than a hint of hurtfulness. Oh dear. "Why? Are you having doubts? Don't you trust me?"

"Of *course* I trust you, dear", the Lord assuaged her. "Do not be silly. I place my entire life in your hands, do I not? It is simply that...well, I sometimes wonder..."

"You 'wonder'?" Claressa's tone was increasingly dry, and Peter felt a knot forming deep in his stomach. "Do you want to go back to her, Peter? Is that it? Don't you LOVE me after all?"

Peter could not stand it. This was not what he had in mind when he dialled his old flame's number. He wanted a spot of pleasant conversation, perhaps a hint of flirtation; he certainly did not want a row.

"Of course I love you, darling", he soothed. "I am just weary, and tired, and being incredibly silly."

"Yes you are", the sultry brunette at the other end replied, her tone convivial once again, a touch of that huskiness Peter liked so well creeping into her words. "Do you need your darling Ressa to cuddle you to sleep?"

Suddenly, Peter realised this was an excellent idea. Claressa and himself had no more than a few rooms separating them; why on Earth were they on the phone?

"Yes, dear. That would be lovely", he said, with a grin. Then, as his manager and special friend promised to be no more than a minute, he reached across and switches off his iPad. Survival in the duelling ring could wait; there would be days for him to become acquainted with his opponents. Right now, he thought as a devious grin took over his features, it was time to enjoy what he had already conquered.

[vastrix]

"Firestorm" Johnathan Mills is seen doing what he does best. He's at a local RPG Hobby shop, playing Yu-Gi-Oh with another local gamer.



Mills: "I summon Dark Magician in attack mode! Then I attack with him!"



His opponent, a young boy of maybe 12, looks under his trap cards hopefully. He has no monsters on the board. He slumps in defeat.



Boy: "You win."



Johnathan stands up with his arms over his head in triumph.



Mills: "I win! The boxed set with all of the rares and the Egyptian God cards is mine!"



The boy wipes a tear away and walks to the entrance as the boy's father walks in through the front door. After a brief discussion, the father angrily walks up to Johnathan.



Father: "My son said that you beat him! He has a bruise on his cheek to show for it! What do you have to say for yourself?"



Johnathan glances over at the devious child who is using a bit of make up to deepen the color of said "bruise" with a wicked grin.



Father: "I would think that physical abuse would mean disqualification. Hand over the prize!"



Johnathan slips his stuff into his bag and shoulders it.



Mills: "I never touched him. Why would you-"



Father: "You're that wrestler gamer, Johnathan Mills?"



Johnathan cocks his head in confusion.



Mills: "Yeah. Why do you ask?"



Father: "I heard about you. Always coming into shops like this and taking advantage of children playing a game like you ain't effing grown up yet. I will beat you into the ground and take all of your cards!"



Johnathan leans back in the chair and grins.



Mills: "You sure you want to take on a professional wrestler? I have a huge Interfed match coming up. A big multistage battle royal."



The Father shakes his head.



Father: "If this was the case, you would be getting ready for your match instead of hustling kids for cards. Get up and face me like a man!"



Johnathan stands up. The father takes a punch, but Johnathan side steps the blow, and slips out through the door to the store. The father runs out of the place and opens the side door to a waiting van.



Father: "That guy hit my son and stole away his cards! Get him! Kick his ass!"



Johnathan glances back to see five guys jump out of a van. They all have matching shirts. A bowling team?



Mills: "Who travels with their entire bowling team with them? Crap on a Cracker!"



Johnathan ducks into an office building with the men hot on his heels. He dives into a closing elevator and hits the button for the top floor. He smiles at the people staring at him like he's an idiot.



Mills: "Bit of a misunderstanding."



Johnathan patiently waits as the elevator stops at the floors for the other people and it arrives at the top floor. Johnathan steps into the hallway and leans against the wall.



Mills: "Maybe I should have been prepping for my match instead of playing a card game, but all those rare cards are so valuable and damned powerful!"



Just then a man bursts in from the stairs while holding a cell phone



Man: "He's on the top floor! Come quick!"



Johnathan leaps at the wall, springboarding off of it and slamming an elbow into the side of the man's head. He hits the down button on the elevator and the doors actually open right up. He drags the man in and hits the button for the ground floor. He picks up the dropped cell phone and climbs out through a window. He reaches up and climbs the last few feet to the roof. He pulls his foot out of reach just as the father looks out through the window.



Father: "He's on the roof! After him! Get to the roof access door!"



Johnathan shakes his head while on the roof. He had forgotten that there would be some kind of roof access. He gazes across the alley to the next building. He had also forgotten that his hotel was next door!



The Father breaks through the door to the roof with everyone except the guy that Johnathan put on the elevator. They see Johnathan set his open bag down and take a running leap off of the building. A misses a balcony and plummets to the sidewalk.



Father: "What an idiot."



The man who Johnathan threw into the elevator walks out from next to the door behind the people. He looks down at the mess far below with a smirk.



Man: "Messy."



The man jerks his thumbs at the father.



Man: "He and I will take care of the bag. The rest of you head down to the van."



The man and the father watch as the others head through the door. The father walks over to pick up the bag, but his hand passes through it.



Father: "What the hell?"



He looks at the man with him, but his outline blurs until he is Johnathan Mills and holding his bag. The bag on the ground vanishes.



Mills: "That's one perfectly good holographic projector down the drain. You know that you cost me, but we can deal with this now that we are alone."



The Father looks Johnathan up and down with a grin.



Father: "I could break you in half."



Johnathan starts walking toward the father. He puts his right arm into the bag and comes out with an over-sized metallic gauntlet that has electricity arcing between the fingers. He drops the bag to the floor, his facial features taking on a cruel aspect.



Mills: "Oh I don't think so. If I was just using my wrestling skills like I will be doing in my upcoming big battle royal event, you would be on the ground in seconds. You would get back up though. With this little beauty?"



Johnathan pats the gauntlet, bringing out an electrical discharge that wreathes the device in an unholy glow.



Mills: "This little beauty will make sure there won't be enough of you left to fix inside of a match box."



The Father takes a couple of steps backwards with an uneasy smile.



Father: "I think we got off on the wrong foot. I'm sure you beat my son fair and square. I uh-"



Mills: "You know of course that's a lie? I used my holographic projector to make the card I laid down look exactly like the one I needed it to be. I have the most extensive card collection ever."



The father continues to back up with a nervous grin.



Father: "Well, he's a bit of a spoiled brat anyway. You keep the cards. I'm just going to go. Alright?"



Mills: "You know with all of this talk of holographic projections. It's cute that you think I'm really in front of you."



The father's eyes go wide as he backs into someone and the Johnathan Mills in front of him vanishes.



Mills: "It's time to say goodbye. I have a major event to dominate."



Father: "Then I can go?"



Johnathan raises the metallic gauntlet as it flashes brightly with gathered power.



Mills: "Not quite."

[Jason Cashe]

Driven By Addiction

"I get to enter an APW ring once again! I will be more than prepared.."

This was one of the last, the final shows in a Promotion Jason Kash loved. He represented Action Packed so hard that now he stands as a Member of a faction with the same namesake. Even his GTA V crew was labeled as such, he was feeding off the name, the place he once cashed paychecks from. This was important to him, not to just win but to compete. One last time to stand in that ring he had done so much in during the last four years of his career.

"Group Four is stacked with top names! From Doug E. Fresh to Pat Gordon Jr! You have the best of the best entering this Match and competing for a place in the Final Four..."

He knew Tidus Howe was trying to sell the competition to get him motivated and pumped. To train harder, to focus more going into the event but Kash wasn't needing any of that to be prepared for this. He was prepared to compete tomorrow if it was needed and wasn't going to let everything else mess with his game plan.

"You forgot to name drop guys like Ethan Drake or MDK...I'd say Knuckles but the world knows better than that right?" His questioning of it had purpose. The last time he had seen his former partner was when Knuckles under a mask as Reaver turned on him and cost their team the War Games match at APW's final Official PPV 'One Night In Hell'. "Oh please don't set your sights on him, he's not worth it. He will cause you to forget about the others..."

How could he forget? The others would be putting their fists into his face, his stomach, laying their boots into his ass just the same as he would lay into them. There is no forgetting a match filled with top talent and everyone trying to become that ONE who stands tall.

"What is evident is that the lack of APW names in this match is disappointing. Guys like Level One or Terry Marvin or Sally Talfourd. Where is Anthony Bailey or Young Mannie? Did all those guys just up and decide that they were too good for this event? So for me it's not about ONE man, if I get my hands on Knuckles then fine but he like I knew when we started Foul Play was that it would only end with one of us turning on the other. Just as it is with Stefan Raab now in AP. I am a representative of what use to be the best..no the Greatest Wrestling Promotion on this Planet. I might be with another company but I am now and forever Action Packed..."

"It worries me that you are that much of a Loose Cannon with Alliances.." But it shouldn't have surprised him. Kash had been in 3 Groups or Tag Teams in the 4 years he was with APW. He was in another one now with Action Packed. He didn't need a posse but he had one and felt they could hold their own. That is all an alliance is to him. If everyone holds their own weight then it works, when someone finds a reason to hate or fumbles their weight then it stops working. Kash was never the one to fumble the weight he carried.

"Stop being worried. Unlike every other group or team I've been apart of, I want and helped create Action Packed to do one thing and that's survive. Survive and...Conquer..." The voice at the end there had an echo to it. One that Tidus Howe picked up on. "Where are you right now? Your voice is echoing.."

The scene opens to Jason Kash sitting with his pants down on the Toilet. His cell phone sitting on the skin of his thigh as he smiles wanting to be able to see the face of Howe as he finds out Kash's location. "Sitting on the toilet..." The moment of silence was priceless and it was soon interrupted by the loud laughter of Kash as he knew Howe instantly felt uncomfortable being on the phone with his client.

"Haha! You alright man?"

The moment again passes of silence before Tidus Howe finally responds. "I'll let you finish up, I was just calling to make sure you had a place to prepare for the match." His care WAS limited and that only had Kash laughing again. "Alright buddy, later."

He had been done using the bathroom, got wiping out of the way when the phone rang. He decided to enjoy the peaceful time remaining on the 'think tank' as it's been called. The stall door opens and the camera pulls away from him as he stands from the throne and pulls up his pants. He does a courtesy flush before leaving the stall. The door sways a little as he steps to the row of mirrors and sinks lining the public bathroom. As he turns on the faucet and the spray of water is heard. His reflection stares back at him.

"I don't care..I don't care about those who say I'm some uneducated, foul trouble maker. I just don't find a bone in my body, a thought in my head where I give a fuck. See I do me regardless, I don't convert to what's 'hot or trending' so that I can say people REALLY like me. With that attitude though has come up and down alliances, partners who for the most part is a temporary fit until eventually them or I make our move to step over one another. Now if you know me then you know from my past alliances and friendships I am usually the one stepping over someone. Michael Lively is retired thanks to me. Johnny Knuckles has all but disappeared other than this very event where he will make an appearance and possibly take his last unsupported breath of air."

Flinging his hands down into the sink, he reaches over and grabs some paper towels. He shuts off the water and leans in closer to the mirror and checks his smile for food in his teeth. Blowing air through his side teeth, he draws a line with his pinky across his right eyebrow and smiles.

"See I got me some conflict of interests going into this match. Yay I get Knuckles in my Group? Cool because he knows, those who know me know that someone puts a knife in my back and I seek redemption, I seek to trade that with a knife to the chest. Same is known when I turn on someone, they come at me full speed like a Fat chick laying their eyes on a Buffet. Sometimes even in slow motion like said fat chicks usually move like..Heh. Am I offending anyone? Fat people being the new Gay joke these days.

But at the same time I have an eye out for Knuckles, I have an eye on one Million dollars. I hate the guy but I have the desire to go Millie in this bitch like Lil' Wayne. Just less tats and homo feel to the swag! One MEEEELLLION Dollars..That ain't no joke! I'm not gonna sit here and play to the fabrication that someone like Young Mannie might put down. I don't sign on with Sponsors, does this look like a Smile you want to slap on your Brand? My last name is Cashe, I rock Kash and Money is a hobby we all have interest in collecting. Competitions like this that pay not based on who is Prom King but who lays it down and survives the carnage that is put before each and everyone of us...That's where I make my money long."

The palms of his hands lift and slam down hard on the edges of the bathroom sink. The mirror shakes in the jolt of his pounding. All the assumption that comes from matches like these. The names, the predictions, the favorites and odd man out. The sleepers who could but likely won't. It's all just fun and games to a handful of people but to Kash..It's more than that.

"Since APW I've been signed to 2 different Promotions now. One at a time, I've always been more exclusive to one promotion. I know people like Stefan Raab can spread out and work multiple places and to me that increases the drama that is forced upon you in this business. Now I enjoy drama, anytime, anywhere, I am open for fucking business. Not too hard to solve, not too hard to comprehend because like most people who dislike me and want to downgrade me will tell you, I am a simple bastard! I've heard it all and I will continue to hear it because people can only call me stupid in so many ways before their mouths are swelled up and they are gurgling blood as they try to make out the words to insult me.

Heh...Hehe...

I was talking to a fan the other day after the last 4 Corners show. They told me I reminded them of someone. Someone simple but vicious. They said Robert DeNiro from Cape Fear. I was taken back. I have a Southern draw but damn, am I really that vile? Am I that mentally FUCKED that I can't see it myself? APW has seen me shit on windshields, kidnap girlfriends and I can say these things repeatedly to myself, to other people and I still believe they haven't seen the worst thing that floats around inside my head on a daily basis. These final shows...S&C and then RassleMania...I plan to show them some new tricks, some new acts from "The Influence" and it won't be two friends 'hugging' it out in the end or just LAYING down for someone else to claim this prize of 1 Million Dollars."

He holds up his hands like he forgot and is trying to take a step back. Kash grins and scratches his thick black beard. He leans forward and shakes a finger at his own reflection.

"I know, I know..How could I forget that it is Doug E Fresh's match to win. He's the golden ticket going into Group Four of this Match right? Awesome. I'm glad he's earned his name in such light over in CWC and The Experts and every where else he has laid his hat but this isn't The Experts. This isn't the CWC, this is Action Packed Wrestling and while the reputation is tainted at times, hated in other groups, it does one thing that has stood to gain it the respect it has and that's that it has been around, giving ALL levels of talent a chance to showcase their stuff and do it on a National and World Wide stage that wasn't filled with politics and bullshit behind closed doors.

I'm not claiming Doug E has had politics in his corner. I'm just saying here more than anywhere else I've seen or been...ANYTHING can literally happen when everyone has an equal level of opportunity. I beat Sally Talfourd, I beat Chris Strike. WHO would have bet on me beforehand? Anthony Bailey as a Rookie became World Champion. An unknown in AC Smith dominated his Division of Xtreme when people didn't see him coming. So in APW, at least for Survive & Conquer...You can EXPECT one thing but then your eyes will bulge wide open as you see a man standing with the sharpest blade to your Mother's throat...Heh..he.."

He holds up an index finger to get a minute.

"Maybe I am a little off after all! A match like this though, an event like this from a place I gave my heart too only brings out the worst in my thoughts. The people who stand across from me, who clash with me, who trade blows with me give me a feeling of the worst kind. That's mostly just how I feel about those in Group four and that isn't even the end of things. What happens when the world is shocked and I move on to the Final stage? It could be ANYONE from any of the other groups who end up there. Gordon Fury, James Stall, Brandon Bash is someone people need to keep an eye on. Legion, and the almighty Jack Benevolence who even with his status, I will walk up and spit in his face before punching him to the mouth...Hahaha...Maybe I am a bit slow, stupid even but in this business it's those kind of people, guys like me who have nothing to lose, who have no fear of it being their last match or making it someone else's last match that are the most dangerous...Kucci Mane Kuwop knows what I mean, What up big Homie!!"

He begins snorting, building up a loogie in the back of his throat. He coughs a bit and spits in down into the empty sink bowl. He turns on the water again to wash down the hack job. Cupping some water in his palm, he takes a slurp and again shakes his hand, flinging the water.

"It's hard to forget the names in this match, often there is too many to go down a list. Often there is not enough time in the world to go over each and every name deserving of a mention. AJP knows how I feel about her and it isn't hugs and kisses, we have issues from the past, have let them settle and the bitch still owes me some socks. This whole roster in each group is a Complete who's who of opponents you'd only dream to be able to say you've competed against. People who have put you in awe as both a fan of this business and a competitor wanting to face the best. But this match isn't about stroking each other's cock and getting everyone a fair shake or motorboat of attention. You want to be the winner then it will come with hard work and being at your best. Not everyone can be that, not everyone can achieve this and I'm not going to brag about making it to the Final Four like some shortcoming Pretenders because it's Top of the Mountain, King of the Throne or I go home as a Loser of the night like everyone else who can't gain this feat..I need to blaze up, shit got me wanting to fight! RRRaaah!"

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

In a bean bag chair, Jason Kash is seen again sitting Indian Style with a blunt being rolled up in the grips of his fingers. He licks the edge of the cigar wrap and begins to tightly roll it and get it securely together. He grins at the finished product and holds it up for the camera to see. The inside of an Office is shown, more of a Meeting Room for more people but Kash sits in the room without the big, long table that would usually be in these rooms.

"This right here is what helps keep me out of Jail, out of Prison by calming me down when the urges to fight, to rip a hole in someone's chest cavity begins to scream at me. Some people will pop somas or bars or whatever kind of pills people abuse these days and it's an addiction that has become far worse than even the Cocaine epidemic in the 80s yet nobody really cares because so many people are abusing pills. What does ANY of this have to do with me or this Survive & Conquer match? Well..."

He adjusts some like he's about to start telling a story to a group of children but Jason Kash has never been one to make time for punk ass spoiled children so fuck that idea altogether.

"It relates because the epidemic in Pro Wrestling is how Hype can lead to the promotion of complete jackasses. Tyler Graves, Chris Strike, there have been a good few in APW's History and Survive & Conquer it has been seen more so than not. Big names get their spotlights, head to the ring and are thrown the fuck out and eliminated in mere seconds. So hype should NEVER been taken into consideration going into this match. Low names like Faith Skyler or Dexter Jacobs should be just as important as those who are getting all the attention because most of us never know the talent we will see shine in a match like this. Maybe Faith is the exception since her biggest claim to this business is that she is sucking the dick of Rex Evan's brother Tommy.

But Dexter? This dude is right up my alley! He's got that Southern draw in his voice. He speaks a language only few can understand and comprehend. So we have that in common at times. Haha. Yet the difference between us is more than the 30 words of his vocabulary because a true Redneck Hillbilly only has about 30 of them he uses in life. The biggest difference is that I've made a career finding the weakness of my opponents and exposing it like broken bones in the breeze. I had to sit and listen to Stefan Raab give me a lesson of who Dexter Jacobs even was so my insight on the low man, the simpletons of this Match is known and Raabies says Hi! Will either of them matter in the end? Maybe, maybe not but it's these names, the low man on the hype ladder that should be considered the biggest danger inside this match. It is to me, I will look and seek out names I know, people I want to clash with but it is the names of the unknown and unheard of that will stand brightly and surprise the people watching at home or live from the audience. German is about to host a new War and race won't be the primary issue but like with every war the desire to be that Super Power will determine the lines drawn in the sand. The first punch landed will start this war and it will be my hand, my Influence that stands on top of the pile of rubble at the end of the night!!"

After lighting the blunt, Kash inhales a few lung fills. His cell phone rings but at the same time it begins ringing he can hear the door being knocked on. He pushes to his feet and brushes off some excess weed crumbs and ashes that fell in his lap while sitting. He answers his phone as he heads out the Hotel room and towards the door that has a Chair up under the knob to keep people from entering.

"Yeeeoooo, who this is?" The slang in his voice is more than evident but the response catches him by surprise. "Hey brother.." and the voice stops his progression. He knew the voice, he had thought about hearing it but only in screams of pain. It was Johnny Knuckles. Kash stares blankly over to the door of the room. Is Knuckles here knocking too, how did he find this location? Kash wasn't sure he could be civil. He had that itch, that urge to cut someone or fuck someone. Couldn't be Knuckles could it? He tries to kill some time."Heeey..." The drawn out sarcastic feel to the way he said it caused a silence for at least a few passing moments.

"I know there is unsettled issues you have but I wanted to call and say I thi--"

"Look Kinfolk, I'ma tell you straight up. You know the drill, you got your pound of flesh, did what you thought was needed at the time. I'm getting mines so keep eyes open in the back of your head because I will crack that skull if I get the opportunity. Bet that shit like the reaper. You have a nice day...BROTHER.." He shuts off the call with a forceful push of the "End Call" button. He reaches out, knocks the chair out from under the door handle and turns the knob to yank the door wide, ready to strike.

Tidus Howe ducks as he throws his arms up to block the surprise of Kash jumping at him. The laughter of Kash gives the signal to stand tall and try to gain some composure back. Howe though decides to pretend he didn't just flinch like a dog with a newspaper. "I heard voices..Who are you talking too?" He steps past Kash and then realizes his mistake. "You talk to yourself. I forgot I'm in business with 'Inner Voices' and The Doped Out Psychopath. Do you like this though? Nice building, big enough right?"

"Ehhhh. It's a building. Here hold this, I've got to take a piss and I got some on the blunt last time I took it with me."

As Kash leaves he leaves Tidus Howe holding the blunt but his mouth is dropped open, stunned by what Kash had shared with him. 'TMI' was an understatement in most cases with Kash but there was always something about him that people either LOVED or they outright HATED. Not many sat on the fence with him. After Kash is gone, Howe looks around the room before his eyes meet with the filming camera. He holds the blunt up and shrugs a bit at the shoulders before his voice fills the room.

"He is a different kind of athlete. That is only doubted by him I'd bet but a lot of the time I am asked by fans or by critics 'Why'? I am asked why I wanted Jason Kash as a client? He fired me, left me sitting on the side of an unknown road when I was last seen in APW so why come running back? It was an easy decision to be honest with you because he might be a handful of wrong but he holds a lot of right in who he is. For someone who at times puts his head down and rushes the challenge, he does it better than most. He scraps like he's fighting for his life everytime, no matter the level of opponent. What more could I ask for in a client?"

He grins as he waves off some of the rising smoke from the blunt. Holding it out away from him, his voice continues to be heard.

"He has his addictions as he will tell you and break down in various ways but he will also point out the truths about other people's unseen addictions that hurt them more than it helps them. Everyone has an Addiction and Jason shows that and gives that to everyone. From biting your nails to eating too many Frosties at Wendy's. Gambling, drinking, cigarettes, driving fast, sex, being annoyed when the bed isn't made to your liking. It's an addiction that many have tried to label compulsions. Everyone from Ted Bundy to the President of The USA has addictions and everyone of them can be abused and come at you like an Overdose. Jason Kash lives by this, he drives himself, is motivated by his Addictions.

Cutting him off, Jason Kash enters the room. His voice echos as he snatches up the blunt and takes a fill of his lungs.

"Yeah so you can tell a story..." (Puffs hard on blunt, inhale/exhale) "Give people that Day Time Soap Opera and maybe that gets you the votes of being The King of Hype, bets to be the Odds on Favorite. Maybe that gives you the hype of Godzilla in New York but in Germany, in 2014 I am fighting for Action and you can bet your LIFE I will beat every motherfucker down like I'm beat boxing the pussy...Wake the neighbors, call the cops because I will come in there NOT playing Yu-Gi-Oh but coming at you Criminal Minded so be ready to sit back and watch as MY HAND is RAISED..

Victor...

Champion....

Survivor and Conqueror....."

Kash slaps Tidus Howe to the back as he puts the blunt to his mouth for another intake as the scene fades.

[fresh]

"15...16...17..."

(The counting is from Doug E. Fresh as his body is upside down and he uses his arms to push it upward repeatedly. Sweat is dripping from him forming a puddle below. Eighteen is more difficult and nineteen barely gets up. In the midst of number twenty he collapses, folding over and falling to the floor. He pounds the floor in disgust.)

CLAP CLAP CLAP

(Suddenly his attention is caught by a tall man from the doorway of the room. His scraggly gray hair covers one of his eyes and the beard is reminiscent of Doug's with the exception of a more significant portion of grays.)

"This isn't what I expected of you. I figured your own personal exercise room would have some extra weights and a couple more machines."

(Doug gives him a look of intrusion.)

"I primarily workout alone. Only the necessities are required."

"What about when you have to travel?"

"Extra running. I'll use a local gym at odd hours where attendance is far from peak."

"Fair enough."

"Why are you here?"

(Silence. The two are locked in a stare.)

"I..."

"And be serious with me. No lectures like the last few times you just seem to magically appear out of thin air right before important matches. I'm not in need of a father. So let me ask one more time and be straight. Why are you here?"

"I just wanted to spend some time with you."

"You're fooling yourself."

"Hello pot. Name's kettle."

(Doug ignores the snide remark and goes to the rail against the wall to grab a towel. He throws it down onto the puddle of sweat.)

"Lies are all we've ever lived on. You just as much as I Doug. Even your mother."

"Leave her the fuck out of this. Your right to go so far as even think of her was revoked years ago."

"And the biggest fallacy of all is not how often we lie to each other but rather how much we lie to ourselves. Personally, I believe self-deception keeps the world spinning on its axis. It allows us to create a consistent narrative for ourselves that we end up actually believing. Of course I'm not saying that the truth doesn't matter. It just seems that self-deception is how we survive."

"I thought we agreed on no lectures."

"Its true. You went around telling everyone you were a God to the point that you believed it."

"This isn't a fairy tale. I am on that higher level."

"Your ability was transcendent for a period of time and yes I just allowed myself to use that term but humanity is wearing you down. Because you're not a God Douglas. You're human. And its only a matter of time before you run out of gas."

"You don't even know me. Here you are giving me yet another talk about leaving wrestling. I've got plenty left. I'm in my prime and that's why I entered Survive and Conquer!"

"Prime? Its twilight Doug. I do watch you. I've hardly missed a match whether you want to believe that or not. You're not winning in dominant fashion anymore. You're symbolizing supremacy coated in apathy. You LOOK like you're supposed to be the best whether you are or not. Its circular logic and self-evident that you're better than everyone else in the ring. Doug, you have nothing to prove, no motivation to try, and there isn't even any reason to question if that makes sense. That's going to stop feeling true and you're going to collapse into a black hole. You're clawing and scratching to get by as it is."

"Idiot! Achieve victory by any means. Its what you do to WIN. Measures I take to get there are irrelevant. My HEART wants the win. But you wouldn't know anything about heart would you pops."

(Doug's eyes are wide open. He's almost shaking while waiting for a response. Its the first time in a long time that he referred to the man in any kind of a father fashion.)

"I'm just saying there's more to life than wrestling."

"Not in my life. Wrestling is everything. Wrestling allows the intellectual part of my brain to evolve while at the same time leaving the emotional part unchanged. It has a liberal cerebellum and a reactionary heart. This is all I ever wanted from everything, ever. I've developed brilliance in instinct. That cannot be matched."

"The lies sustain you well. You are your father's son."

"Shut up!"

"I've worn out my welcome."

"That happened years ago."

(The old man looks heartbroken. He turns his back to Doug and starts to walk out the door.)

"I only hope that when your heart inevitably lies to you that you won't suffer the same pain I have."



----



The Next Morning

(Within the walls of the upper floors of the Luxor Casino in Las Vegas lies the offices of Sin City Wrestling. On this afternoon, there's a lot of internal discussion going on between some of the board members of the direction the company is heading with the new year upon us. The general manager of SCW, Sabra Kellar is sitting in on a specific meeting as there were a couple board members with interest over who will be the next challenger to recently crowned World Champion, Brad Jackson.

Outside the Luxor, Doug E. Fresh stares towards the sky, the sun was casting the pyramid's shadow over the surroundings but clouds are starting to hide its brilliant light.)

"Drake Mosa has a rematch. Seems to be the obvious choice for the top contender."

"And have the same match that closed 2013 pay per views open them in 2014?"

"Certainly there could be stipulations."

"We need to attack the fans with something that's marketable! That match did not deliver as intended."

"Are you insane? Did you read the numbers?"

(As the bickering among the board members presses on, Sabra just sits there with her arms crossed and eyes closed. She's biding her time until something is actually worth speaking of.)

"Let me ask the rest of you one question. What one wrestler continues to line our pockets? Who sells the most? And who was our top draw when we were in this same position the last two years?"

"Doug E. Fresh"

"Precisely!"

(One of Sabra's eyes opens.)

"Coming into 2012, he was our champion. Right before 2013, he ended one of the longest reigns in the history of the company. He's always dependable to headline."

(Sabra speaks.)

"And what case do you have that supports just handing Fresh a title shot. I respect him much not only for what he has done but also during our time spent wrestling together. But he certainly has not put himself in a position to be considered for title contention."

"Our champion is Jackson. He's new blood to SCW but a fine veteran. But there's a big sell to be had here. Doug's the old guard. And in their ONLY match together, Doug was the victor. This has the potential to spill emotions left and right!"

"Maybe so. But he and David Cyclone are presently working together and there is nothing that should serve as a reason to sever that at this time."

(Suddenly, the door opens. Its Doug himself!)

"Forgive my intrusion. I was told that despite being on maternity leave, Mrs. Kellar was here in this meeting."

"There he is Sabra! Its a sign! Anoint him!"

"Anoint me what?"

(Sabra stands and interrupts.)

"Actually, this seems like a perfect opportunity for a recess. Until moments ago, you two were quite boring me. That...and it looks as if Doug wishes to speak with me privately."

(The professor nods his head.)

"It is settled then. I will take Doug to my office. We will continue this discussion later today."

(Doug accompanies Sabra as they leave the board room and walk past the inattentive secretary into her personal office. Not a lot has changed other than the design of the interior.)

"What are you doing?"

"This was my office once. And Tenegra's."

(He feels along the wall and presses in on a spot. A portion of the wall folds down with two glasses and a few different bottles of liquor.)

"Best thing I ever had put in here. You may recall that I fully suspected that I would be the one returning to the desk and not you."

"Well, from what I gathered earlier, there are still at least one or two board members enamored with you."

"People are easy to manipulate. Its about proper triggers and how much you pull them. Do you use persistence or aggressiveness? I'd offer you a drink but..."

(Doug pours himself a scotch.)

"I will pass. And I agree it was quite easy for people to follow you."

"Those men you were meeting with are just as easy. One might think its as simple as not taking no for an answer but honestly, that's how rapists think. Its a waste. On the other hand, never take maybe for an answer. 90% of the time, maybe means probably. You sell yourself and you don't bother selling to those who can't be convinced. Sway the indifferent. Remember the Sinistry? Fairly certain there wasn't a single member whose origin of faith was catholic. Nor would I go out there and claim that my actions in wrestling were for Jesus. They wouldn't believe. I had no need for them."

"Why are you here?"

(There's hesitation in his response. Perhaps he's thinking about how often he used that phrase in his last conversation.)

"I came here to inform you that I will be competing in APW's Survive and Conquer. This is not a request for permission."

"Did I ever claim there was a need to?"

(Doug shoots his scotch down quickly while looking out the window to see that a storm has just begun.)

"Tell me Douglas. Why now? All out of inter-feds to claim and destroy? Or are you just bored?"

"Destroy?"

"Consider those not my words but rather the ones used by the population. I wanted to hear how they would sound from myself."

"Regardless. I have my own reasons. The motivation is there and I simply will not disappoint."

"Very well. I am pleased to hear that you will join several others in representing SCW. This also creates a simple resolution for those trying to convince me to give you a Global Title match."

"Come again?"

"They suggested that I let you face Jackson. But you are simply too preoccupied with preparation for Survive and Conquer that you would not be the best choice for top contender."

"Now why would you tell me that Sabra? I'm just going to be pissed."

"When have we ever been anything but honest with one another Doug?"

(There's a short silence as the two stare at one another when the secretary comes in.)

"Mrs. Kellar, we've just received a correspondence. The father of one of our wrestlers has just passed away. I've already attached a bereavement form if it ends up necessary."

(As the secretary is about to turn away, she looks towards Doug and suddenly turns pale. She doesn't even flinch after Sabra says thank you.)

"What's gotten into her?"

(Sabra reads the letter in full. Even her expression turns to resemble that of some sadness.)

"I am...I am sorry."

"Sorry for what?"

"Doug, your...your father passed away this morning."

(And that moment, Doug opened his eyes like they never have been before. He puts a hand on his chest and almost goes to one knee. His breathing is heavy. Sabra tosses the letter down and approaches him. When she puts a hand on his shoulder, he moves it away. He's upright once more but visibly trembling.)

"I...didn't know. Does it say how he passed?"

(She doesn't want to respond.)

"Heart attack."

(His head sinks. With great haste, he exits the office before Sabra can even utter another word. She rushes to the doorway and along with the secretary they watch Doug push and slam his way through everything until he's on the elevator that returns to the ground level of the Luxor.)



----



A Few Days Later

(The sky is like a dark grey slate resembling the headstones below it. Rain dampens the few patches of grass that have yet to hold a past underneath. Despite the weather, few patrons still arrive to pay respect to the loved and the lost. Doug is among the small crowd today.

He's walking down a path on the far west side of the graveyard. Stopping by a triangular stone, he kneels and touches it. Doug smooths his fingers over the word 'wisdom' that's carved below his mother's name.

After kneeling in silence for a few minutes, he proceeds to stand and start walking again. About 50 meters from his mother's grave is where the father now resides. It was purposely arranged that they were not buried next to one another but they share a graveyard due to being from the same hometown. They separated when Doug was of a young age.

Doug stands over the headstone of his father. Below his name is written 'courage'. He grinds his teeth at the sight of it. He drops to one knee. The rain starts to pick up. He holds a hand over his heart, clutching it while remaining in silence.

Minutes have passed. While still kneeling, Doug hears footsteps behind him. He doesn't bother looking up. A smirk comes across his face for a moment but it quickly evaporates.)

"Why are you here?"

(The man behind Doug undoes the top collar of his jacket and reveals a large neck brace being worn. He has a hood up and a cigarette freshly lit. A drop of rain splashes onto the red of his two-tone sunglasses.)

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"I didn't ask for your condolences Ryan."

(Doug remains kneeling and keeping eye contact from who is indeed Ryan Ruckus, familiar to many from when he outlasted Terry Marvin to win Survive and Conquer back in 2011. But he's not here for anything to do with wrestling. He and Doug have been friends, tag team partners, and hated enemies. They're from the same hometown. They wrestled together as teens. Its a special bond considering the a fore mentioned neck brace is also something Doug is responsible for.)

"And he probably didn't ask for yours though like still very appreciative."

"The FUCK do you know?"

"First off, its Ruck. Second, you know you're not pissed at me so don't go projecting decades of emotional baggage on the Real Thing."

(Doug stands. He turns and stares into Ryan's eyes prompting him to remove his sunglasses. For a moment it looks like rage but Doug suppresses his feelings and bows his head.)

"You're always right. Always have been."

"I should be."

"I'm sorry I broke your neck."

"You should be."

(Doug reaches out his hand. Ryan knows exactly what he's asking for and obliges. Doug's not a smoker. He's pledged how important cardio is and how much of a hindrance cigarettes are to it and yet there's always one individual who he would smoke with and that's Ruckus. In this scene, its symbolic of family as they both stare down at the father's headstone respectfully.)

"Are you done being delusional?"

"I might be done with everything."

"Everything as in...the God spiel?"

"Everything as in I'm leaning towards retirement. Wondering why I'm even here."

"Probably because you have some sense of obligation. Or its actually possible that you want to be."

"You know what he wanted me to be? A math teacher. Of all the hated and poorly paying jobs, that was the path he desired for me the most."

"I believe it was Bertrand Russell who said, 'I like mathematics because it is not human and has nothing particular to do with this planet or with the whole accidental universe'..."

"...because like Spinoza's God, it won't love us in return."

"Makes sense. Nothing in mathematics could of driven you so emotionally at the time. And hell, weren't you pretty good at math in school?"

"For some reason I'm not surprised you recall that."

"There's a ton of crap to wade through just to teach nowadays. And besides, I can't see you quitting. You've been through and beaten enough already."

"It's within the realm of possibility."

(Ryan grabs Doug by the shoulders.)

"Why are you even here?"

"To apologize. For not giving him a chance. For letting wrestling consume all my time. For having my heart devoted to the things it shouldn't be."

"Look at how human you are."

"Fuck off."

"Ahem. Its Ruck. Get it right. Take the time you need and lace your boots because you're not walking away unless its your own terms."

"These are my terms."

"No they're not. They're his."

(Ryan points to the grave.)

"As remorseful as you're feeling Douglas, the fact of the matter is that you're still that asshole who at the end of the day wants to be the best. You can drop the God facade. A lot of people wanted that to be done with months ago. But you're not done. Its just another rebirth. You remember when I came back to SCW?"

"Yes all twelve or fourteen times."

"The first time...ass."

(Doug nods.)

"I walked away from the game because it was literally taking my life from me while you seem to live more because of it. I got my second chance and it was like a fresh start. Did I change my approach? Ruck no. I never stooped so low as to renounce myself. If I reject the person who I was born as, then that's just as good as losing. I live who I am and this is my revenge on life! I was cast aside with a branding iron on my ass and I came back and took the biggest prize in the world from the brander. My fate has never been sealed. Neither is yours."

(Ruckus takes a long drag from what's left of his third cigarette since appearing.)

"You'll survive Dougie. And you'll still wrestle for SCW and you'll still do the APW thing. I know it. Because you're a stubborn prick. AND you're jealous that I've won it so you've gotta have it too."

"Fuck off."

"For the last time its RUCK!"

(They share a handshake that's been used between them for well over a decade. Doug takes a look down at his father's gravestone one last time. The rain comes to an end.)



----



Now

"The world is ending. It's ending in dissonance and in fire."

(A bright fire lights a dark room to where we can see the shadowy presence of Doug speaking.)

"Our world is cruel and if allowed, it will absorb your heart. I've let this happen on numerous occasions to where I must keep asking why am I here? Why am I alive. I live to break happenstance. Whether I call myself a God or a Man what's truly real is that I make my own ceilings out of glass to shatter.

Why am I competing in Survive and Conquer?

I am the best wrestler in this world. This is my final opportunity to participate in an event that features everyone who can be considered great. World Champions, True Experts, and talents who need not a title to feature their expertise will be acting like cornered animals clawing and scratching to stay alive. That is the flow. It's always been my personality to go against said flow. I'm no piece of garbage being swept up by it. That's not how you survive.

Why am I here?

With recent events, some are viewing me as a bad person. I don't give a damn about being a good one. It's a poor phrase, only referring to people you use for your convenience. There is no one who can be that to everyone.

How I view myself has changed. I used to be meticulous, studying everything about my prey, not just the maneuvers he or she likes best but things like least favorite foods or morning routines. I wanted to know everything. Now I lack that desire but have replaced it with a different spirit. Blind ambition. Desire to achieve everything from knowing nothing.

But I'm no good person. I only value myself above anything. I have the worst personality imaginable. I live for myself and I'll die for myself and I'll destroy before i ever protect. I'm vicious. This is what I've learned about myself recently. I hold an irrepressible tenacity that scares so many others but scares even me.

Why am I here?

My heart yearns for the competition. The reason I wrestle is to test my abilities against the finest competitors that can be found for me. And I lost sight of that. This became a hassle. Life became work when it should have been reversed. But I am a man who can live through that.

However, I've manipulated countless individuals who do not deserve to suffer like that. For that I must atone. For the time being, what I can give to everyone is the truth that I will be competing in this match for the same reasons I wrestle. Of course my mentality will be that of win or failure and I'm cutthroat. I will deceive. I will lie. That is clear.

But my motivation isn't solely to win. I want to be measured up again. I want someone to say that Johnny Knuckles or Reya Serra is better than me. I've spent more than the last year of my career with little to prove. And I'm sick of it.

Why am I here?

Every time I fall I rise.

I've survived losing everything in my life. Family. Love. Material possessions.

I've survived career ending injuries, including 19 concussing chair shots from the devil who will be in my group rumble M.D.K.

I've survived sitting...living in a cold Siberian jail cell.

I've survived being buried alive by another man in this match, Adrien Specter.

I've survived being replaced as the torch bearer of all wrestling by Terry Marvin who is now believed by many to be the absolute best.

I've survived everything God has thrown in my way.

I've absolutely survived matches, deaths, my own blood, battle royals, cage matches, ladder matches, ladder cages of hell, street fights, the list goes on and on and on.

And I will not be stopped from doing so one more time. I respect all eighty wrestlers. There is greatness in this contest. I've stood beside Paradox McSweeney as a brother and also laid underneath him for a three count. I've taken Jack Benevolence and James Stall to the limit for the greatest championships on the biggest stages. I've bested the best.

So many of you I can name but I wish not to disrespect those who are unfamiliar to me. There are men and women I've never beaten, men and women I've never faced. And although most of them I won't even come in contact with, I will show everyone what made me a world champion, a True Expert, and the very best wrestler in our lifetime. I will give away my throne when its time to stand down. No one will take it from me.”

(Right at this moment, the fire is burning at its brightest. Then it is extinguished.)

“Why am I here?

To conquer.”

[flx]

The Grandest Fight

“What’s it Mean?”

A word that gets thrown around a lot in wrestling circles is “Heart.” If you ask 20 different people what “heart” means, then you’ll probably get 20 different answers. To be honest though, there is no true definition. “Heart,” at least in the context of wrestling, is something that is seen and felt; it’s is something that is shown or exhibited.

I guess it’s kind of like obscenity...you know it when you see it.

But, like everyone else, I have my own views on what Heart is. To me, it’s kind of a mixture of Courage and Honor.

I think that’s a good blend.

Here’s an example that we can play with: a coward. Does a coward have courage? Well, how could he if all he does is run away; how can he have Heart if all he does is back away from life’s challenges?

What about a cheater? Well, a cheater doesn’t have Heart either. A cheater doesn’t have Heart because instead of squaring up like man, he decides to use underhanded tactics to pull out a win.

Do I have Heart?

I’d like to say yes.

Clearly, I’m usually not the biggest dog in the fight; in most wrestling circles I’d probably be considered a “vanilla midget,” I’ve heard that term thrown around. I’m also not the most muscular guy on the block; in no way am I shaped like a Greek God.

To be honest...I just love a good fight; maybe that comes from my upbringing and martial arts background. You see, my uncle Brad raised me and my sister; our parents died when we were just babies. Uncle Brad was a Catch-as-Can wrestler over in Ireland before he raised us; needless to say, he was one of those rough-and-tumble type of dudes.

One of the things he taught us early was to never back down. “It doesn’t matter what type of challenge you are facing, never back down―never quit.”

That’s something that always stuck with me, in both martial arts and professional wrestling.

Never back down―never quit…

Over the past few months I’ve had the pleasure of sitting down and chatting with various veterans of the Business. One of them tipped me off to Survive and Conquer. Right away I knew it was something that I had to be a part of. You see, most people would shy away; but I see this match a great challenge. Last year about 100 competitors; those wrestlers came from all over the world!

My dream is to become one of the best wrestlers in the world.

So, I how can I become the best wrestler in the world if I only face a selected few opponents? How can I become the best if I don’t push myself? How can I become the best if I don’t ever wrestle the best?

Well, Survive and Conquer is all about facing and wrestling the best!

Look, I’m a realistic guy. I know that the odds of me defeating 79 other wrestlers are very slim. But, I’m not going to let the odds deter me from going out there and giving it my all. Most of my life, I’ve been viewed as the underdog; this match probably won’t be any different.

But, do you know why I always keep moving forward; do you know why I’ve gotten to where I am?

Others view me as the underdog...but that’s not how I view myself.

…

Before I can write another word, my hotel door opens; in walks Zoey. She steps in carrying a bag of food. She sets the food on the little side table; she then sits on the bed and slips off her shoes.

“So,” she says. “I found a nice little Chinese place close by. I got you some beef lo-mein...is that ok?”

“Thanks Zoey, that’s perfect.”

Zoey and I have been dating for a few weeks now. Actually, I got introduced to her by my sister, Tammy. The two of them work together; they work at on the marketing team of some huge company in Miami.

Zoey is a lot different than most of the girls I’ve met. You know, you listen to the podcasts and interviews, and you hear how it used to be for guys back in the days; women used to flock to you if you were a wrestler. However, most of the women I met were turned-off when I told them I was a wrestler.

Not Zoey though.

She won’t fully admit it, but she has a passion for wrestling; that’s what attracted me to her. Zoey loves watching matches with me; a few times I’ve caught her watching matches by herself. Even my sister, who doubles as my unofficial agent at times, won’t watch more than couple matches before tapping out.

So yeah, her passion for the Business is attractive...that, and the fact that she is a total hottie.

...Who says that anymore?

Anyway, Zoey looks like Monica Raymund...so yeah, she is quite a looker.

“Hey Riley,” Zoey says. “Do you mind getting some ice? I got use some tea while I was out too.”

“Sure thing.”

I get up off the bed and slip on a pair of Vans; I then grab the ice bucket and head out of the room.

Anyway, where was I?

So, this is actually Zoey’s first live wrestling event. I’ve been wrestling on the indies for about four years now; normally I just drive or fly to the shows by myself. Once in every blue moon Tammy will tag along; but it’s rare. However, when I told Zoey that I was going to participate in Survive and Conquer she got really excited. She begged me to allow her to come with me, so of course I said yes.

I walk down the hallway, past a group of screaming kids, and small laundry room. At the end of the hall there is a tiny ice machine. I walk over, fill up the bucket, and then head back to my room. I walk in and set the ice bucket on the counter.

“Thank you,” says Zoey as she gets off of the bed. She walks over and picks up a glass from the counter and fills it with ice. She then grabs a bottle of iced tea from a bag that she had brought in. She opens the tea and fills the glass. “Do want a cold glass too?”

“No, thanks ok. I’ll take the little bit that’s in the bottle though.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yea,” I say. “I don’t mind room-temperature drinks.”

She walks over and punches me playfully in the arm...that kind of stings though.

“Why didn’t you tell me silly,” she says with a laugh. “I wouldn’t have made you get up if I’d known.”

“It’s fine dear; I don’t mind.”

Zoey gives me a kiss on the cheek, and hands me a bottle of tea as she grabs the bag of food. She takes out two boxes; she hands me the larger box. She opens up her box―it looks like chicken and broccoli. I get a whiff of the soy sauce covered food that she begins to stir up.

“That smells really good,” I say to her.

She picks up some of the food on her fork.

“Open wide.”

I open my mouth and she feeds me a bit of food.

“Is it good?”

“Amazing!”

“Good,” she says. “Now you owe me a bit of yours,” she says with a smile.

I open my box to see a beautiful spread. It weren’t just lo mein noodles and beef; there’s some broccoli, some carrots, etc. I grab my fork and twirl it around a bit. After getting a good forkful, I turn to Zoey.

“Open up.”

She opens her mouth as and I slide the food into her mouth.

“Is it good?”

“Yours is awesome too.”

For the next half an hour we eat our food and watch a bit of TV; Law and Order: SUV was on. After eating, toss my trash away and hop back on the bed. I lie back, and look up at the ceiling. After a few moments, Zoey looks over at me.

“What’s the matter?”

“Nothing,” I say. “I was...I was just beginning to think.”

“About this match?”

“Yeah.”

Zoey places her hand on my arm.

“Aren’t getting nervous are you?”

“No...I just…”

I’m not nervous. I’m not afraid to step into that ring; I know that when I do, I’m going to rock it. But, I do feel a bit...uneasy. There are four brackets this Survive and Conquer. I drew number four. Now, I’ll say this; there are some awesome wrestlers in event. Everyone who is in it deserves to be in it.

But, I truly believe that bracket number four is the most challenging.

Did I think this whole experience would be a cake-walk? No, of course not. But, I’d hoped that I would be placed in a position to shine a bit.

“Zoey, I don’t know how well I’m going to do in this match.”

Zoey nods her head.

“Let me ask you something.”

“Sure.”

“What are you hoping to get out of this experience? What’s your main goal? Is it to win the whole thing?”

“Well…”

“Babe, let me say this; you are an amazing wrestler. You have the ability to win. But, you also have to look at the odds. There are 80 wrestlers signed up for this event; that means you’ve got 79 other opponents. That also means you’ve got a 1 in 80 chance of winning.

“1 in 80 equates to a 1.25% chance of you winning.”

Damn―why is my girlfriend so smart!?

“So, realistically, what do you want to take away from this match?”

“Well…

“I just want to get out there and show that I can hang with the big dogs you know. Many are saying that I’m placed in the toughest bracket; I want to show that I can compete with those guys.”

“And, what is it that you’re uncle taught you?”

“...Never back down.”

“So that’s just what you are going to do. You are going to walk into that ring, and you are going to fight. You’ve been doing it all your life.

“Babe, that’s what you were born do―fight!”

I nod my head. I want to say something, but I can’t at the moment. I just put my arms around her; she smiles and embraces me back.

“Thank you.”

She kisses me on the cheek.

“You’re welcome; I knew this was probably going to happen.”

“Did you?”

“Yeah,” she says with a laugh. “Tammy told me you always get a little amped up before a big match.”

“Yeah, that’s true.”

“Well, now you’ve got me to level you out...you know, when you become over amped.”

…

Bracket number four―Many say that this is the toughest bracket. Maybe they are correct; and if they are, then I’ll have an even greater challenge ahead of me.

But maybe...maybe I have been placed in a position to shine. This match is going to be tough, to say the least. But if I can stand up, if I can stand up and face the best of the best…people will have to respect me.

People will know that I’m serious about becoming the best wrestler in the world.

APW has given me a nearly impossible mission―but that mission will be accepted.

Now that’s Heart.

“F Complex”

Fighting…

All my life I’ve been fighting. When I was extremely young, my parents passed away in an aviation accident. My uncle was a fighter...Catch-as-Can. He was over in Ireland at the time. He came back to the U.S. to raise me and my sister.

That’s when we started to fight…

Not with each other of course.

My uncle thought it was important to teach us. We both started learning Catch-as-Can under him. Later on, Tammy moved on to taekwondo; I moved on to Greco Roman wrestling and Muay Thai.

Fighters…

Now many years later, I stand here before you, about to walk into the toughest fight I’ve ever encountered. Survive and Conquer is one of the largest events in professional wrestling. People struggle and scrap their entire careers to be able to make into this event.

And, well...here I am.

It’s an honor to be able to participate in this match.

But I know what everyone is thinking. “Who the hell are you?” “We couldn’t get Level One, but we got you?” “What makes you think you can stand up against all these legends?”

Well...you all are absolutely right.

I’m not Level One, or Terry Marvin, or even Rex Evans. I’ve never wrestled for a national or global promotion; hell, I’ve only had one televised match in my career. The fact of the matter is I’m not a big star.

But you know what―this match is mine for the taking.

I’ve got something that a lot of wrestlers these days don’t have…

Heart!

…

I was never supposed to become a wrestler. Hell, in most people’s minds, I was probably was never meant to do anything of importance.

I realize that my uncle took me in; he raised me and my sister the best way that he knew how. But, the simple fact of the matter is we were orphans. We lost our parents; he was basically drifting throughout our lives with much direction. My sister Tammy, well, she was the smart one; she realized early on that martial arts wasn’t for her. She practiced them to appease my uncle, but she set her sights on something greater; she worked hard and got a scholarship for college.

She found purpose!

Me...I never really had a purpose growing up.

I was never book smart like my sister. I mean, I got decent grades; I got C’s. But to be honest, going to a four years college would have been a waste of money. I would have been just another disappointment.

I started doing the martial arts because my uncle made me. After a while, I started to enjoy them. And don’t get me wrong, I love Muay Thai; but I knew Muay Thai wasn’t my purpose. I knew I’d never make a living off Muay Thai alone.

I was simply doing Muay Thai just to do it.

I didn’t have any real goals―until I found professional wrestling!

Once I was introduced to the Business, I knew I could be something; I knew that I could make an impact, if I just had the chance.

I knew that if I had the chance, I could become one of the best wrestlers in the world.

So, I worked hard. I joined a wrestling school and started to learn. I wasn’t enrolled in some fancy facility; no, we just had a ring and a few weights. But, I think that was for the best you know; it helped to keep my objectives in perspective. Because you see, people get into the business for many different reasons. So people just want to become famous; the want to hear thousands of people cheering their name. Others just want to get rich; they only see wrestling as a means to obtaining wealth.

But that’s not why I wrestle!

...

I had humble beginnings in life, and I had humble beginnings in wrestling. I started at the bottom of the barrel. After wrestling school I began to work. I didn’t have a big contract lined up for me. So, I went to the indies. At first I worked tiny shows; we’d be lucky to get 50 people to show up. But, I didn’t really care about all of that; all I really cared about was getting out there and working. I cared about getting out there and gaining experience.

Now, I’m not going to stand here and lie to you, like some other wrestlers would. I wasn’t particularly good when I first started. I wasn’t terrible, but I wasn’t anywhere as good as some of my peers.

But then I realized something.

Every time I cut a promo…

Every time I got a chance to interact with the crowd…

Every time stepped out of that ring…

I got just a little bit better. And, you know what happens when you get better; you get more matches, more money, and more opportunities. Eventually, I was getting calls from companies from all over.

I continued to work and travel. But, I’ll be honest; I still wasn’t content. It was at that time that I did start caring about how many people were going to these shows. True, I was becoming a better wrestler...but very few people actually knew about me.

Very few people had seen me wrestle.

I knew if I were to achieve my dream of being one of the best, then I would have to make some changes―I needed to branch out and showcase my skills on a larger stage!

Insurgency Wrestling Federation was my first choice. My “agent” contacted the company; they showed interest in me. At the time, I thought Insurgency would have been the perfect fit for me. They are a large company and their weekly TV shows are broadcast all over the country. Hell, they even do international tours.

It sounded like the perfect opportunity!

But―trouble reared its ugly head.

Before I was allowed to sign on the dotted line, I had to meet with Insurgency doctors; you know, standard testing. I took their tests, and I passed all but one. Apparently, I had some elevated levels in some of my enzymes.

The doctors felt it was too risky to sign me; so, my contract was ripped up.

Most people would have gotten down on themselves; some people would have felt sorry for themselves. But, I realized that things were out of my control. So, I held my head up and did what I do best...wrestle. I immediately made some calls and got some bookings.

And then, I was contacted by Frontier Grappling Arts; they told me they were interested in offering me a position, an opportunity. It was a chance to make it on DVD, a chance interact with fresh fan base; and a much larger fan base.

…

I thrive off competition, that’s one of the best perks of wrestling on the indies; you can’t face the best of the best in every company.

I was excited to debut in FGA. My first match was a six-man tag match; I won’t bore you by listing everyone’s name. But, trust me, I remember that match very well. I remember standing near guerrilla; I remember being anxious. And I remember that anxious feeling melting away once my music hit. The six of us went out there and had an amazing match. I went out there and I did everything that I possibly could to pull out a win for my team...but we ended up losing. One of my teammates didn’t give 100 percent; he was the weak link and ended up getting pinned.

Like I said, I thrive on competition, so that lose eat me up. I replayed the ending in my mind 1000 times, just to see if there was something more that I could have done. But there wasn’t, and I accepted that. Once again, I picked my head up; I started to train and prepare for the next match.

I handled my next opponent with relative ease; his moniker was “the God among men,” so my win was classified as a bit of an upset.

Then there was the four-way match for a title shot; myself and I guy named Jack Reynolds tied; he and I then squared once again, along with another person in the contender ship match.

It was interesting, because many people didn’t think I deserved to be in that match. I both of my competitors were undefeated at the time; and the fact that I tied with Reynolds rubbed some people the wrong way.

I lost that match, but I gave 150 perfect out there. I didn’t win, but people started to take notice. Both management and the fans realized that I was serious.

…

I didn’t have the best life; and, I haven’t had the best wrestling career. But instead of wallowing in self-pity, I hold my head up high. When I start to get down, I have to remind myself that I’m a fighter…

I’ve been a fighter all of my life!

I was destined to be some type of statistic, but I fought back. I fought back, and I changed that destiny.

Now that’s heart.

And in this upcoming match up, Survive and Conquer, I have a chance to show the world just how much Heart I have. I’m standing on the cusp of greatness; this match is a great opportunity. I’ve gone through so much in my life just to get to this match; I’ve face adversity, I’ve faced Death.

But I’m still standing here, ready to fight!

I know the odds; but I’m not going to let those odds hold me down. Just like every other time, I’m going hold my head up high, and fight…

Like I’ve always done.

[Reaver]

ATTENTION GRABBER!!

(lets try this again)

(it’s cheap I know, but it worked didn’t it?)

I’ve spent a lifetime trying to get somewhere. A career, sacrificing life and limb, just to be noticed. My very sanity…lost….just to get to where I am today. It took me four years in APW to finally become a champion, and quite frankly; I don’t think it would have happened were it not for the release of my alter ego Reaver. Time after time, loss after loss. I found myself going further and further down the ladder with no hopes of reaching anything. The same old; same old. I mean, who really cares if a two bit loser like me ever wins anything right? So this becomes a tale of my own personal….

                    NEVER ENDING STORY!

(a tale of loss…)

The scene opens as Johnny Knuckles is on his way to a local gym in Germany to help gear himself up for this years, and possible final, APW Survive and Conquer event. In past matches, he took 7th, even 4th but last year was such a disappointment of not even placing that he wanted to push himself beyond every limitation he could come across. On his way, he decided to give his old friend Jason Kash a call, to explain what has happened to him over recent months. They haven’t spoken since One Night In Hell where his alter ego, Reaver, took it upon himself to cost his team the match by turning on him. After a sentence or two, Jason hangs up on Knuckles; leaving him distraught.

What’s done is done. I can’t take back One Night In Hell. I don’t have time to worry about Jason’s “feelings” so to speak. He can stew in knowing that he now has a loss to the likes of Stefan Raab, Germany’s own.

Knuckles makes his way to the gym where he begins his cardio regimen. To make it in a fight against 80 high strung “superstars”, one must be willing to go the distance. Something Knuckles has always prided himself on. Not always the winning formula though, especially in his own case. He knew that in order to make it, he couldn’t continue using the same strategy that has failed him over the years. After a hard and rigorous workout, he finishes up with a hot and steamy shower. (sexy time ladies) He doesn’t realize how late it is as the gym starts shutting down it’s lights. Just then, Knuckles stumbles and falls. Good thing nobody was around to see him eat shit.

Oh for fuck’s sake! Do they not check to make sure everybody is out first before they turn off the lights?

He stumbles his way to the door only to find out that it’s locked from outside.

Greeeeaaaatttt…….now I have to go locker diving in hopes of finding a flashlight or something.

Looks like we can finally make looooovveee to each other under candlelight. HEHEHEHAHAHAHA!!

Shut the hell up Reaver!!

He ignores his “other half” and tries his luck in the lockers. He forces his way through some of the locked ones and comes across a flash light. Using the light, he looks around trying to find something he could possibly jimmy the door open with but finds nothing.

Might wanna’ get dressed there Knuckle-head. Shrinkage is starting to set in HEHEHEHAHAHAHAHA!

Knuckles starts getting dressed and notices a book on the floor with an odd symbol on the cover. The symbol was of two snakes coiled and wrapped around each other while swallowing the tail end of the other. A symbol in which Knuckles was all too familiar with. THIS, was the Auryn.

NO WAY!! I haven’t seen this movie since I was a kid!

Um, John. That’s a book. A - B. O. O. K! Not something you have experience with. Besides it’s still shrinking down here HEHEHEHAHAHA!

No shit asshole. But I never read the book and only seen the movie. Might as well cover up and read it while we’re stuck here.

Knuckles gets dressed, opens the book and begins reading under the flashlight. For some strange reason, the intro song to the movie begins to play and he looks around the locker room; wondering where the noise is coming from. He ignores it and continues reading.

Batman and Turbo the Racing Snail are sitting around a campfire; enjoying a nice meal when all of a sudden, the ground rumbles with a type of anxiety that could only come from a person in dire need of help. Rushing through the forest; was a giant pinkish rock-like creature that could only be called, a pillow biter (lisp and all). He plows his way through on a stone tricycle of sorts trying to escape.

Batman:……I am Batman!

Turbo: Sure you are…

Pillow-biter: HEY FELLAS! Look, I’m sorry for interrupting your little brunch session or whatever. But is it ok if I stop to rest for a while? I’ve been travelling ALL day and my little tootsies are just soooo sore. (don’t lie, you read this with the lisp didn’t you?)

Turbo: Oh sure feel free. What’s the rush though?

Pillow-biter: Well, I came from this little place called Santa-Monica. I woke up this morning to enjoy a nice fat free latta’ but for some reason, it wasn’t there anymore.

Batman:……I am Batman!

Turbo: What do you mean? Like it vanished?

Pillow-biter: No, I like totally mean it was gone. Just a pile a smoke, an empty void like Johnny Knuckles career. So I’m rushing to the emerald city to see The Wizard of OZ.

Turbo: Wrong movie.

Pillow-biter: Oh sorry, I totally mean the heart of Fantasia. The Ivory Tower.

Batman:……I am Batman!

Turbo: Us too! Me, from the west and Batman here from the south. Our towns too have gone missing like Johnny Knuckles winning record.

Batman:……I am Batman!

Pillow-biter: So let’s all skip along together. We must hurry!

SEE! Even these guys know how much you suck; HEHEHAHAHAHAHA!

I don’t remember the story being anything like this. Anyway, the group sets their sights onto the heart of Fantasia and the Ivory Tower. After much travelling, they all make their way to the top where a group of people are huddled around the center at a black Father Time. (yes I went there) He tries to calm down the crowd who seem worried that their towns will all disappear.

Father Time: Alright, Alright! I understand you all are here for the sake of your tribes. Let me assure you that the Underage Child-like Woman will be more than happy to fix things but has fallen gravely ill. We are just waiting for a warrior to show up by the name of Betrayu.

Betrayu: Yo, where my hoe at!? Bitch owes me some motha’ fuckin’ money, Nyah mean?

Father Time: Such disrespect, and from such a small boy.

Betrayu: Look who’s talkin’ old man! Maybe I wouldn’t have come if you peeps didn’t keep doggin’ on me. Why did you beg me to come if you didn’t want me?

Father Time: We sent for the warrior Betrayu. Not some loud mouthed prison bitch.

Betrayu: Oh it’s like that huh? Just cuz’ I got my pants half way down my ass, all of a sudden I’M the prison candy huh? I’m the only one in my hood named Betrayu. Or should I just go back to low-jackin’ fools.

Father Time: WAIT! If it’s really you, then you must go on a quest to save her. No weapons and with only this symbol of our world, The Auryn. It will guide you to Survive and Conquer; where you need to go.

Betrayu: BLING BLING SON!!

And with that being said, Betrayu drops his glock on the floor as Father Time puts the Auryn around his neck. He mounts his noble 72’ Deuce and a Quarter (Buick Electra 225) he calls Artex and heads off into the sunset. Flying across the open plains for days, he finally finds himself in a dark and meek area surrounded by dense fog and thick muck on the ground. This place is known as the swamp of sadness. The place where Johnny Knuckles dreams fall apart? What the hell?

HA HA! I’m telling you, this book is all kinds of fucked up but I love it!

I seriously don’t remember this being the original story but oh well. Just as Betrayu makes his way through the slush of the swamp, another type of evil begins its hunt to stop his quest. A pair of green eyes; peek out of a dark cave but seem to be surrounded by what the medical industry calls, “Pink Eye.” In a flash, the beast flys out of the cave and in Betrayu’s direction.

Meanwhile……Back at the Legion of Doom……sorry wrong story…

Back at the swamp of sorrows, Betrayu and his trusty Buick continue their trudge. As he pushes on with pride; in search of Moolah the money hungry turtle whom might have some information to help him with his quest, he is quickly stopped by his Buick which seems to have stopped. He tries to step on the gas harder but realizes that the car was sinking.

Betrayu: AWWW man! I just got new rims on this…..

No sooner then he gets out, the car sinks away. He pushes on anyways, However, the sadness starts to get to him and he feels worse and worse. He eventually finds a giant hill in which he could climb and get out of the muck below. After a few moments, it starts to rumble and “bucks” him off. Quickly, he runs up a tree only to find that this giant hill is nothing more than Moolah the money grubbing turtle in hiding. And with one swift motion, Betrayu pulls back and cold-cocks the turtle across the face.

Betrayu: WHERE’S MY MONEY BITCH!?

Moolah: Huh? I am certainly not one of your hoes Betrayu….

Betrayu: How did you know my name?

Moolah: I know everything. And I also know you’re on a quest to save the Underage Child-Like Woman so you may win Survive and Conquer.

Betrayu: So how do I save da’ hoe?

Moolah: You must go to the southern orifice….or was it oracle? I can’t remember. Anyways, it’s about 10,000 miles in the other direction. And further more….uh…uh….uh CHOOOOOO!!!

She lets’ out a huge sneeze that knocks him off the tree and down into the swamp, covered in a sticky white film……

DUDE!! That stuff is all over the place!!

Knuckles leans back and he too is covered in a sticky white film. There’s even a couple of pages stuck together as it seems.

That wasn’t me I swear…

Uh huh, riiiiight. HEHEHEHAHAHAHAHA!

He uses his towel and wipes himself off as best as he could; only to continue the story.

He continues his journey out of the swamp towards the southern “orifice/oracle”. Harder and harder it seems as his despair begins to get to him which ultimately make him start to sink.

Meanwhile……(no not that again)

The beast with green-pink eye; catches the scent of what he’s been hunting and fly’s through the swamp to catch Betrayu. Further and further he tries to continue but the swamp has hold of him and he seems to be sinking as the beast draws closer. Just as all seems lost and he’s about to fall completely under, AND just as the beast is about to devour his prey, a giant; flying white Dotson Dog comes from the heavens, swoops down and picks him out of the swamp at the very last second. …..leaving the beast to feast on failure. Much like Johnny Knuckles.

Ya’ know, I keep seeing your name come up. Aren’t you even a tiny bit suspicious of this story?

NOPE! Seems legit! Time passes and the next morning, Betrayu wakes up in a new place he’s never seen before. His body is completely clean from being covered in muck, his wounds are dressed and healed, and for some strange reason is naked. He tries to get up without waking it but it notices him trying to escape.

Dragon: HA HA! Going somewhere? *winks*

Betrayu: Ya’ to da’ orifice son!

Dragon: Well it’s a good thing you’re naked HA! *winks*

Betrayu: Been wonderin’ about that, wanna’ tell me wassup homie?

Dragon: Well I needed to lick your wounds and clean you. My name is Gaylord. I’m a luck dragon and it’s a good thing I came along to save your life. Besides, where you need to go is JUST over that gate over there. Be careful though, most men who try to walk through it die. *wink*

Betrayu: Don’t suppose flyin’ over the duo gate of death ever crossed ya’ mind huh?

Gaylord: Nope. *wink*

Betrayu: What’s with all the winkin’? And why do you look like a dog?

Gaylord: I’m not a dog, I’m a luck dragon. I believe it’s a series of small strokes I’m having. *wink* I didn’t fly you over because I didn’t want to drop you. I like you. I have a thing for children.

Betrayu: Why don’t that surprise me? If you weren’t a dog homie, why do ya’ gots’ all that fur?

Gaylord: Nevermind, there’s two more people in that cave that would like to see you.

He looks over and peers into the nearby cave where sounds of clanking metal and arguing can be heard. He walks in and sees Bert and Ernie yelling at each other.

Bert: God I hate being the only guy to study those damn statues.

Ernie: I wish you wouldn’t drink so much Bert.

Bert: Well Ernie, I wish you didn’t eat COOKIES IN THE DAMN BED!!

Ernie: Bert, you’re shouting again…….

Bert: *sigh*…….

Betrayu: Uh-hem?

Ernie: YES! You’re finally awake. Here, have some more of my bat wing broth. It’ll make you feel better. Then again, people like you know this stuff as Jesus Juice.

Betrayu: Got any Henny?

Bert: Enough with this, you and I need to go see those statues.

Wasting no time, they make their way up to his giant telescope as to show Betrayu the first of two gates he must pass in order to reach the southern “Orifice/Oracle”. They notice a knight trying to cross but watch him get obliterated by the statues.

Betrayu: OH FUCK THIS!

Bert: But you MUST if you want to get to move forward and win Survive and Conquer.

Betrayu makes his way down and just looks up at the statues. He realizes that if he has doubt or fear, then he won’t be able to pass. Taking a deep breath, he decides to book it as fast as he can. The eyes start to open with an eerie and dangerous glow. Faster and faster he runs as the eyes open wider. Suddenly, a strange kid is seen running next to him wearing metal on his legs…..

RUN FOREST RUN!! HEHEHEHAHAHA!

SHUT UP! The eyes open up all the way and shoot out a pair of light beams out from each statue towards the center. Betrayu kicks the legs out from the kid, leaving him to take the decimation from the light allowing Betrayu to make it past the first gate unharmed. His breath is heavy as he looks up with a sigh of relief; knowing that he escaped death’s door. Well, I guess you’re only as fast as the person next to you right? HA! Bert comes FLYING down from the telescope as fast as he can only to find that Ernie is giving Gaylord an “injection” of his own.

Bert: HE MADE IT! What the hell are you two doing?

Ernie: I’m giving him an injection of Vitamin C, Chemical Castration since this pervert can’t keep his hands off of small children.

Gaylord: OWE!! I just wanted somebody to scratch behind my ear….*wink*

Ernie: Your ear isn’t down your crotch though. I swear I won’t fall for THAT one twice in a row. Or was this exlax? I can’t remember. Now give me back the Ether you stole from my cabinet! That’s for Bert later…

Bert: Didn’t you hear me? I said HE MADE IT!!

Ernie: That’s great isn’t it?

Bert: Yes but you don’t understand, the second gate is even HARDER!!

Betrayu finds himself in the middle of a snowstorm with nothing in sight. He continues to push through the freezing winds and slowly walks up to a mirror to see the demon he must face in order to save the Underage Child-Like Woman and win Survive and Conquer. The mirror looks deep into his soul only to show an image of a guy holding a flash light and reading book….jerking off. He looks up at Betrayu and for the first time, he and Johnny Knuckles lock eyes in that very awkward moment that only being caught can do.[/i]

Knuckles jumps up and throws the book against the wall.

Knuckles: It’s NOT REAL!

Reaver: Oh? Then why are you naked and jerking off?

Betrayu finds himself face to face with the Southern Oracle which looks EXACTLY like the first gate but glowing with a blue hue.[/i]

Oracle: Ahh yes. Come forth Betrayu. We will not harm you.

Betrayu: That’s what that dog said until I realized I was standin’ in front of him with no threads on.

Oracle: You seek wisdom in saving the Underage Child-Like Woman and winning Survive and Conquer.

Betrayu: That’s how I roll!

Oracle: All she needs is a name….

Betrayu: That’s it? She can have any name she wants. Shaniqua, Shante, Precious! She can even be my bottom bitch yo!

Oracle: NO! THEY SUCK! Besides, she needs it from an Italian mook. The same mook that’s been following you. Please, you must hurry.

Betrayu: Wait, I don’t understand……

The earth begins to shake as the Oracle begins to crumble before his very eyes. He doesn’t know what to do when suddenly, Gaylord swoops in and fly’s away. They head towards the Ivory Tower when Gaylord’s stomach begins to rumble from the exlax injection. He blows a giant load of diarrhea all over the air which forces Betrayu off his back, falling thousands of feet to the water below. He wakes up on the shore of a ruined castle where the walls are painted with his travels as if he was being followed. He looks up to see the Pillow-biter sitting down and holding a pair of rocks. The Pillow-biter realizes that the kids is watching him then suddenly stops rubbing them. Two more giant rock creatures stand up awkwardly and walk away.

Pillow-biter: Call me later fellas’ so we can finish up! Sorry, was a little busy using my BIG STRONG HANDS if ya’ know what I mean!

Gaylord: Big strong hands huh?

Gaylord swoops down and starts humping the giant’s leg. The Pillow-biter smiles knowing he just made a new friend. Betrayu cringes and runs off only to come face to face with the green-eyed beast with pink eye. It steps out of the shadows only to take off the rug it was wearing to find three nerds holding pieces of wood.

Betrayu: Who dat is?

Dork 1: We are the DORK! Don’t mind us, we WERE playing Lord of the Rings….

Gaylord: HA HA NERDS!!

Dork 3: But now we are in the middle of Larping.

Dork 2: LIGHTNING BOLT! LIGHTNING BOLT!

Gaylord: NERDS!

Dork 1: It’s better than writing stories online about trying to be a wrestler.

Betrayu: ……

Dorks all: …..

Gaylord: ……

Betrayu: What ya’ want?

Dork 1: We were looking for some guy named Betrayu. We were sent by the Nothing to stop him from winning Survive and Conquer.

Dork 3: Us and 79 other guys.

Dork 2: SHH!!

Dork 1: Our job is to make him lose over and over again like in the past. I also want to make note that this story is HIGHLY inaccurate….

Gaylord: NERDS!!

Betrayu: You in luck, That be me! Time to bust-a-cap in yo’ asses! LIGHTNING BOLT BITCHES!

Betrayu doesn’t hesitate and pulls out ANOTHER glock and makes the Dork into swiss cheese. Gaylord and Betrayu mount up and find themselves heading towards the Ivory Tower once again only to see that the nothing has taken over but the tower is floating on a rock, untouched. (you thought of somebodies wife here didn’t you?) Betrayu hops off and talks to the Underage Child-Like Woman who seems to be smiling.

Betrayu: Sup! So how do I save Fantasia and win Survive and Conquer?

Underage Child-Like Woman: All I need is a name.

Betrayu: So pick one!

Underage Child-Like Woman: It must be given to me by a human Italian mook who’s been with you this whole time.

Betrayu: With me? That guy watched my car die, almost get killed and shot at and fall thousands of feet. Where he at so I can ghost him. Why ain’t he help me?

Underage Child-Like Woman: Because he doesn’t realize what’s going on…..

They can’t possibly be talking about me? Can they?

DING DING DING! Guess who finally decided to join the conversation….

The walls of the Ivory Tower start to crumble and fall apart all around them. Earthquakes and lightning storms surround them. They both begin to cry and panic as death himself is there.

Underage Child-Like Woman: Why won’t you say my name? What’s my name? SAY MY NAME BITCH! (cmon’ you saw this coming)

Knuckles: OK!..... I WILL! ………. SALLY TALFOURD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The scene pans back to find Johnny Knuckles with a dumb-founded look on his face inside a corporate office where a bunch of executives are pitching him this idea for a really bad movie.

Executive 1: Then maybe we can have you ride his back into Germany and scare everybody out of the ring to eliminate them making you the instant final four participant?

Executive 2: What if Lamb Chop also played in the movie and did her song? Can’t have The Never Ending Story without The Song That Never Ends right? It’s sure as hell better than doing a parody of “How I Met Your Mother”. Who the hell wins Survive and Conquer with that?

Lamb Chop: This is the sooooong that neeeveeeer eeeeeennndds…….

Knuckles doesn’t say anything but stands up and bitch slaps the hell out of the executive and walks out of the room. He slams the door on his way out as the scene fades.

Knuckles: Never in my life have I ever heard of such bullshit….I swear. *grins*

It took me this long to FINALLY become the Suicidal Champion but for what? For the doors to close? This career started at Survive and Conquer and I can’t go on knowing that my failures have all mounted up to end it here once again with yet another loss. “So close; yet so far” will be posted on my tombstone when I die I swear. Everything I am and about is to simply get back up. Every loss, every failed attempt. So what makes this any different? I really don’t know to be honest. I’ve been struggling with myself for so long that I don’t even know how to conquer my own mirror image less alone a match with 80 people in it. All I know is that this is my last chance to do it. Who knows if APW will hold this again next year so I have to make this last chance count. I’ve always been the survivor but do I finally have what it takes to conquer the demons within? I don’t really have much of a choice but to go head first, balls deep and guns blazing.

I have to…

I need to…

Finally end things on a high note…..

I guarantee you will never see this movie the same again.....you're welcome!

Word count: 3,998

[iamthewalrus]

Survive.



It's a funny word, isn't it dudes? I mean, one word it carries so much weight in only seven letters. But people just throw it around all willy nilly like it's "the" or "and". Seems like it's kind of common in this business though. People say what they need to so they can sound impressive. It's an industry where flash and hype outweigh substance. I should know this firsthand, I've been around it my whole life. When I started my career, all I cared about was the appearances.



Don't get me wrong, I'm still addicted to this industry. More than I might want to admit. I tell people I want to get out by age 30, but I know better, because I know addiction. What I guess I'm saying is, it'd just be cool if people didn't keep throwing words they don't know the true weight of around until they've lost all their gravity and can just float away.



Conquer



Too many people come into matches like this, just focused on that aspect. Like, I've seen so many twitter bets about people saying they'll win it all, that they'll throw it this guy. So many people are so cocky about something they've got a one in eighty chance of winning. Don't get me wrong, I'm confident dudes. I just think some people are bound to forget the first 50 percent of the um ... equation here.



Some people can say this is because I haven't done enough conquering in my career. I'm in a hot patch, but I've got a track record of "good but not good enough". They'll also look at everything but what I do in the ring, to try and say I'm not prepared. I might be a bit slow on the uptake, but I always get there by the end.



They can say what they want.



Words won't win this.



I'm more ready than any of them know.

---

April 2010



A career that had start with a boatload of promise had screeched to a crashing halt. Following a beatdown from a one time friend of hers backstage, Persephone Waters had revenge on her mind. Instead, she was shown her walking papers and released from her first semi-major professional contract. It seemed to come out of nowhere, but had actually been some time in the making. While the average fan just saw a brash high flyer, ready to run her mouth at a moment's notice, or to make some not so thinly veiled pot references, the warning signs had been there behind the scenes. The erratic behavior clearly not just being for show, the blurry nights filled with bad decisions, the mornings waking up by piles of vomit in strange places.



She lived the rockstar lifestyle and paid a heavy price for it. The girl wasn't a rockstar, she was just that, a girl. A mentally fragile, easily impressionable girl in an unforgiving industry that used brave warriors up and sucked them dry ... that simply ate up and spit out the weak, or unprepared. She was a hot prospect yes, but on this day she seemed just like so many others. Someone who got too much too soon and fizzled out. A name that would be forgotten in a few years time, maybe remembered as the answer to an obscure trivia question if she was lucky. They told her she needed to get professional help. Rehab at the very least, maybe psychiatric help to boot. If she got her act together, maybe she could come back down the road. They didn't expect her to though, those were just the token words thrown her way so they didn't seem too heartless. For all intents and purposes, she was done at an age when many were just thinking of getting started.



The girl hadn't even wanted to a wrestler out of any great passion for the industry. Rather, she became one out of force of habit. A second generation performer, her parents had Sephy and her sister Dani using the trampoline as a pseudo-ring at a young age. She did her first arm drag before she could remember. The expectations were clear; she'd take their teachings and make the name in the States that they never did. She tried to rebel from their expectations like many children do, but rather than immersing herself in a different career path, she simply decided she'd go against their teachings. Instead of technique and precision, she had dreams of big high spots, fancy dives and crazy flips. And despite her dimunitive size, she had the talent and fearlessness to pull them off. But now, she didn't know what to do without the business she'd never even wanted as a part of her life. She didn't have many other considerable skills ... she didn't have anything.

---

Present Day



Looking typically goofy and addle brained, Persephone charges into a room at her tag partner Brian Sasso's palatial estate, looking absolutely ecstatic. He raises an eyebrow as he leans back on a leather sofa, but decides from experience to just let her talk instead of asking questions.



Persephone: Good news, Sass Man! I did it! I signed up for Survive and Conquer!



Brian: Good, good. I mean, the cast might make it a bit tough, but I'm glad to see you branching out.



She nods enthusiastically.



Persephone: Now ... all I have to do is find out how this match works!



That causes him to facepalm hard.



Brian: Of course you'd sign up before you read the rules.



Persephone: What? I figured you could tell me!



A soft sigh is let out in return and he looks back up.



Brian: Listen, it's a battle royal, then a cage match, street fight, then there's a ladder on a cell ... there's a lot to it. You should probably just read the rules ... and keep a copy with you. Short term memory problems and all.



Her eyes light up in childlike glee; she always was much more fond on gimmick matches than him.



Persephone: Ooh! Are there sharks? I still want a shark tank scaffold match! The beecage happened after I left Code Red, I won't miss out on this one!



He glowers slightly at her.



Brian: Stop it, this is serious; you're gonna get hurt if ...



Persephone cuts him off indignantly.



Persephone: I AMserious!



His stare doesn't relent, until she finally throws her arms in the air.



Persephone: Fiiiine.



Sidling up and plopping onto the couch about a foot or two away from him, she shoots him a curious glance.



Persephone: Riddle me this though, Sass Man. Why were you so eager for me to sign up for this, or Iron King, or something like that? You know I don't like uh, need the prize money.



Brian: You're a Champion, going out and representing our brand is part of the job.



Persephone: I already do Make-A-Wish and charities for underprivileged goats! What's really going on, dude. We're a team, and I don't see you doing any outside booking since that charity deal last fall.



Uncomfortable silence fills the air, as he considers whether to divulge this information to her.



Brian: Listen, I've talked to you about this being my last year before. And ... I'm going to milk this run of ours all I can, but I want you to also look towards the future.



All he gets is a blink in return, the subject matter had gotten a little heavier than she expected.



Brian: I've seen how far you've come from where you started out, but I've also seen the crap thrown your way. We've gone over half a year as a team without taking a loss, but you're still just the goat lady to half these people, and then others try to use the tag thing against you. The same crap all sorts of other tag wrestlers have heard. You get carried, all that garbage; of course most of them don't have the balls to say it to your face. Hell, remember when you beat Rex and SalTal? All Rex would say is he speared you after the match, that it was Tobias who pinned Sally. I guess ... damn proud as I am with how we've repped this tag division, I'd like you to have that ace up your sleeve that you can throw at people and tell them to shove it when it comes time for you to branch out on your own. This is the last Survive and Conquer ... history. You don't even have to win, I think you can because you find ways to prove people wrong, but all you have to do is create a memory people won't forget, you know?



He stops himself there, realizing he's starting to ramble. For her part, Sephy tries her best to lighten the mood, but her voice cracks slightly.



Persephone: Damn dude, I didn't expect you to get all Hallmark Channel on me.



She shares a forced meek smile.



Brian: And hey, there are some really smug bastards in this one. Evans won't shut up about how nobody can stop him, you know Benevolence will never let anyone live it down if he does. If you can just stop one of those entitled pricks from winning, won't it be worth it?



Her eyes narrow in response.



Persephone: I have a sneaking suspicion that Benevolence isn't actually that dude's Christian name.



A chuckle comes in response.



Brian: Always quick on the draw. But you should probably get to training for it, and brushing up on your German.



Hopping up to her feet, she bounds away with a flourish.



Persephone: Achtung, baby!

---

May 2013



She'd done it again, been her own worst enemy.



Sephy'd had a cushy gig, she really had. Two steady jobs, she was well liked. Sure she wasn't the biggest name, but she was still a name of sorts. But she'd grown frustrated; there was one beatdown she didn't get saved from, and one person she'd beaten getting shots up the card too many. Something in her snapped.



She joined every group she could to try and change her fortunes. Beat the Tag Team Champions out of Code Red with a railroad spike. The crew she joined called Veritas vowed to bring the truth forward and cause change in the company. She burned bridges with several wrestlers that ended up on the receiving end of a group beatdown, and with her own sister. It didn't matter though, she was ready to blame everyone else for her problems and was looking for any way to get ahead- even selling bootleg merchandise out of a van. Things got tense between her and Brian, the one constant she'd had in her life. But still, bad as things were, she still had something.



Her bad decisions bit her again though.



She decided things weren't going to change in Code Red and left the company following a high profile tag match win. After all, she still had another job. Then, she got turned on by her group at her other place of employment. They'd been using her as a means to an end, then dumped her when they were done. Directionless, her behavior became increasingly erratic and she was released after a spat with the front office.



Once again, she was left with nothing. She'd overcome her bad choices before, but this time might be too much.

---

Present Day



The cameras click on, Persephone is in a rather plain room, seated in similarly plain wooden chair, wearing jeans and an oversize t-shirt. Sometimes it's about the message, not the setting. With a wave of her cast adorned hand, she begins to speak.



Persephone: Hey peoples, I'm Persephone. A lot of you know me, a lot of you don't. If you do, it's probably from CRW or SCW ... you know, the good one. I could talk about how awesome I am and how I'm gonna kick all your asses. Or I could talk about how I want this or need this more than any of you. I actually was thinking of giving all you fine folks a run down of all the close calls I've had, the multi man matches, and battle royals where I've made it to the end only to come up just that short. It eats at me dudes, I admit it.



There's a glimmer of a pained look in her eyes as she says that.



Persephone: But, a lot of it happened at places that have no relevance to any of you, and I doubt you want to here about it, you know? And to be totally honest I don't know if I deserve this the most, I've messed up a lot in my life, but I'm trying my best to change that. Even if I did though, if there's one thing I've learned. Life isn't fair; bad breaks happen to good people and good breaks happen to bad people. The way to fix that isn't to prattle on about what you deserve, it's to start making your own luck. As far as accomplishments? People have longer lists of them than me, and some are less accomplished and could get a bigger jump in recognition and whatnot. That's cool, I'm not really in the mood to have a dick measuring contest. Not that I uh ... have a dick, you get my point though.



She squints and wrinkles her nose, she doesn't always have the greatest way with words.



Persephone: It's one of the biggest collections of talent in the business. People can compare resumes, or they can make sure people remember them. The first one just seems so ... cliche to me. It's all been done before, that's not going to stand out. I mean, is anyone going to tell us about how awesome they are with the flair that Terry Marvin did?



A shrug of her shoulders accompanies that honest question.



Persephone: Even so, some dude named Alioth won, then got his ass kicked back to his Indy in Texas ... so I don't see any point in running your mouth about your resume like matches are won on paper. So no, I can't tell you dudes about any of that stuff. But I can tell you about what makes me up, where I've been. And for that, I think a picture probably speaks best.



Reaching down, she pulls her shirt off, stripping down to a sports bra underneath. Standing up, she walks closer to the camera and turns around. Lifting her arms up, she reveals a bruised and scarred back. You might infer that she's standing back first to hide the story her arms tell, but that's not the case.



Persephone: I know, a lot of us all have these scars. But I'm trying to make a point here. I can remember almost every one of these. There's a lot of things I forget from day to day, but no matter how many crazy falls I take, I carry most of them with me in everything I do. Like I can remember that this one ...



She reaches back with her left hand and runs it along a long gash.



Persephone: Was from taking a bad spill through a table, getting sliced by a shard in CRW in the match to crown their first UnderArmour Champ. Or that this was where they had to put a plate in my skull a little over three years ago.



Waters continues, pulling back some hair and bending forward as she turns around.



Persephone: I'm 21 years old. Started around the same age Faith Skyler there did, I know others like Rori started young too. I'm 5'4 and less than 120 pounds. Put that all together, and it tells my story. Maybe it's one that says I'm not always too smart. But it tells a story of someone almost always outsized, I've been going for a while with this cast on my hand too, who keeps falling, but keeps getting back up. Who's experienced more of this business and of life by this age than some people a decade older have. Whether it's been my fault, or life threw something my way though? Every time I've fallen, I've gotten back up.



Stepping back, she straightens back up.



Persephone I've fallen to pieces outside the ring and I've gotten back up.



A deep breath follows.



Persephone: I got told that concussions might end my career, I got back up.



Picking her shirt back up, she slides it back on, given there's no real reason to be shirtless anymore.



Persephone: I've been a prospect, sputtering midcarder, loved, hated, tried my hand at commentary, reffing, until I found myself here representing SCW as a Champion. So I know I can handle any situation, even one where I know I'm not expected to win, with names like Rori, Doug E Fresh, MDK, Rowyn, Arkia, just in my group. With Benevolence, Rex, Burden, Specter, Gordo, Dom, Doxy, Diego in the whole field. I was expected to make the jokes about goats or whatnot. A lot of people like to make guarantees, but in a match this size? I dunno man, I've had some crazy trips in my day, but I don't know if I've ever been that far out there. So I'll just make you all one guarantee. I'll walk in knowing I've shown I can survive. And I'm pretty damn sure I can conquer.

---

She'd talked a good game, but there was still one lingering problem. For all the progress she'd made, there was still that lingering fear. That scared little girl was still inside her somewhere. Sephy was actually successful now, she had some stability in her career. No, she wasn't Doug E. Fresh, but this was still the best things had ever gone for her. She'd patched things up with Brian, she'd won back the goodwill of the fans, it was hard not to think back to a year ago and wonder if she was taking a good thing for granted once more.



If she had a bad showing here, she could be exposed. All those whispers she was supposed to be silencing by entering would just be exacerbated. This was her lithmus test against the best, she couldn't fail it. Of course, the cruel irony was that it was these very doubts which were the most likely to sabotage her.



79 other people in the field, 19 others in her group, yet she was the toughest adversary she'd have to overcome.



The more she thought about it though, the more she was able to quell those fears. She'd fought this battle before, and every time it looked like she was down and out, she found some way to rise from the ashes. No more questioning how many more times she could do this, it was time to do exactly what she said and create her own luck.
Her tale wasn't necessarily a sympathetic one; sure she could create excuses and say she was put in positions she wasn't ready for, but she wasn't here to score sympathy points. She was here to overcome another of her demons.


And if she could defeat her worst enemy, like she was now confident she could? Everyone else could be in trouble.



Fin.

[B.A. Styles]

For short and quickly made RP...I somewhat enjoyed it, lol.

---

DAT SPEAR
a blog written by @millasheva

In a few days time eighty people enter a war. Eighty seeking glory, fame and obviously the money…well seventy-nine of them are. I’m in this match because my trainer, an angry bald guy called Chris Middley, suggested me to join this Survive and Conquer thing. I had no clue what such a thing is I asked a couple of fellow trainees Adrian Gallahan, who entered last year’s Survive and Conquer match, and Jericho Agbonlahor, the guy who entered the match the year beforehand. From what they told me it is a massive over the top rope match while the last few enter a stage of matches to decide the winner. Since neither one of them have actually made it to that stage I decided to look into the “Q&A” section of APW.com to find out about the match. So there are four separate battle royals, approximately twenty in each one, and the winner of each match enters the main event in a fatal four way match of some kind to decide the ultimate winner. I am a bit nervous I will admit but I feel so damn thrilled at the same time. :-)

Who wait, who am I? My name is Milla Shevchenko and, like my last name suggest, I was born in Kiev…the capital city of Ukraine if any of you were wondering. Shevchenko and Ukraine, if any of you are asking about that famous footballer Andrei then, to be honest, he did adopt me a little bit before doing AC Milan. Sure he did admit it was a drunken bet but hey, daddy has been a very nice guy to me so I ain’t complaining. ^_^ He was so nice that, when I expressed an interest in having a go at being a bodybuilder he gave me all the support I ever needed. And then, a few days before Christmas I asked if it was okay to go to America with the aim of becoming a professional wrestler…and he said yes! Thank you daddy!!! :-) I will admit though that I seem to have grown an addiction to the weights at the gym ever since trying to be a bodybuilder. >_>

But back to this Survive and Conquer thing. When I looked at the forums on APW.com I quickly found out that while Group A is an amazing group, Group D is a Group of Death with the likes of Doug E Flesh, Jason Kash, Aurora Lynn Jansen and Reaver. I’ll give you only one guess to what group this Ukrainian found herself in for her first ever pay-per-view appearance…well it might be my pro wrestling debut as well, it just depends on how long it’ll take for WEW to broadcast the tapings of the recent TNT episode, the one I debuted on. Am I nervous? Yes. Am I nervous about my chances of winning this megastar-studded group? Hell no. What am I nervous about anyway? Well I’ve never had the opportunity to performance at a pay-per-view before, let alone in one as famous as Survive and Conquer. What about my chances? What about them? I’m too excited about this match to care if I win or lose. After all, it is the experience that counts the most…and making some friends, like Stefan Raab, isn’t so bad. ^_^

From what I hear Doug E Fresh is considered as one of the clear cut favourites while others think that Jason Kash could shine brightly on that night. I’ve even heard that, due to the event being at his homeland, Stefan Raab is considered as the dark horse to win the entire thing…which, to be honest, would be a pretty damn cool thing since we’re both representing World Elite Wrestling. I’m not sure if there is any other WEW representative or not but I don’t mind, since I plan on having a blast…you never know though, I might be able to win this whole thing, or at least eliminate somebody. Sure everyone in this match has more experience than I do but every problem ever made has an answer…SPEAR! Annoying interviewer? SPEAR! Perverted Stalker? SPEAR! Uber-strong opponent that could win Group D? SPEAR! One spear and I can take down anybody. ^_^ Sure a spear can get countered (>_>)…but hey, the element of surprise is a useful ally when you’re a nobody like me!!! No one will expect a dumb blonde to do well, so they’ll look away from me - expecting to fight someone stronger - and I’ll capitalise on that opportunity with a SPEAR! Wait…did I insult myself? o.o

Maybe I’m a little too pumped up for Survive and Conquer…but who cares? I’m so excited and I can’t hide it!!! Maybe I should go to the gym and bust some weights again! That’s a great idea!!! Oh yeah…maybe I should give you, my dear readers, some advice about what exercises to do. That’s another great idea!!! This Ukrainian is on such a roll! ^_^ I’ll go with an easy one first…bicep curls. These bad boys can get your biceps so pumped up you can grab people like Charlie Luzon and Ethan Drake and throw them out of the ring like they’re tiny little balls. Basically you hold arms straight out, each one having a weight - preferably dumbbells - in the clutches of your hand. Then, using the biceps and elbows, you simply bend your elbows to weights are up to eye-level before slowly putting them back down. Since I’m guessing that you all aren’t pros or rookies I think five minutes, or every waking thirty minutes, of doing this non-stop will be advisable. Feel free to do it for longer if you believe you can, I won’t barge in and SPEAR you like how I plan to SPEAR some of my opponents at Survive and Conquer. ^_^

Well I think I should end my first blog here, since I’m running five seconds behind in my gym schedule. Thank you for reading every and hopefully I’ll become more frequent with these blogs. This has been @millasheva and I hope you’ll read my future blogs. ^_^

[Aurora Jansen]

Risen
Time Warner Cable Arena: Charlotte, NC
January 12, 2014

In the end it had taken thirty minutes and fifty-two seconds for that one moment in time to happen.


[[Georgie kicks Aurora in the gut and hooks her looking to dive off the top rope with a modified Ego Breaker! Aurora stands up quickly almost falling off the top rope. She grabs Georgie’s hair to keep from falling. Georgie slaps her hand away but Aurora uses a feat of strength to shove her hard and sends Georgie tumbling from the top rope to the outside!!! The fans groan and boo, and the boos grow louder as Aurora grabs the head of Arkia Fisk now on the middle rope, turns and uses the top rope to kick off, flipping up and over and driving Arkia’s head and back through that table with a Ghostly Kiss DDT!]]

Alpine: OH MY GOD! What a move!

Corazon: Look at the grace of Aurora Jansen as she kept her balance on that top rope all that time and used her quickness to destroy Arkia.

[[Aurora crawls over to Fisk, drags her off the rubble and makes the cover!]]

ONE!

[[Georgie is up and sliding into the ring, crawling toward Aurora. ]]

TWO!

[[Georgie gets her hands on Aurora’s boots and tries to pull, but doesn't have the power!]]

THREE!

Corazon: SHE DID IT! SHE DID IT! Aurora Jansen is one win away from realizing her dream of becoming the PW World Champion! And she gets her long awaited one on one match for the title.

Alpine: WOW! That was exhilarating. All three ladies are down and badly hurt as EMTs rush out. And I’m not so sure Aurora knows she’s won yet!

[[Just to prove Alpine wrong, as the EMTs examine the ladies, Aurora raises her arm in victory incurring boos from the crowd. ]]


Aurora was on the homestretch now, and she would not be denied. Finally, what she had sought for so long and done so much to prove she deserved was in her grasp. The Phoenix Wrestling World title would be hers, and she'd fight with everything in her to gain it. That one of the only three people to defeat her in an entire calendar year now held that belt just made the anticipation sharper, sweeter. Ja-Gi Kyung Moon. He'd been the first, and beaten her clean. Ashlyn De Luca...she'd lost her temper and refused to release her gogoplata choke on Ashlyn when the referee insisted. That one had cost her the Television title that she'd come into Survive and Conquer with last year...a title reign she'd broke a record with, ended with a wave of the referee's hand. Alan Pryor, trained by the legend and multi-time True Expert Sandy Makel, he was the third and most recent, he'd taken her out of the BA Invitational, a tournament set for a shot that many said she should have had six months ago.

She didn't begrudge him one instant though, that victory. Alan was a competitor, a warrior, a wrestler... he was for real in all the right ways. But now, she had the measure of him. Now, she knew him in ways he likely would wish she didn't, after being in the ring with him. What had caught her last time he'd have no hope in pulling off the next.

Part of Rori wondered if he knew and if the thought had him sweating.

Aurora Jansen had made a habit of backing up what she said she would do over the course of this past year. She had told the world that she would stop Drake Mosa in the Pentagram match, and she had with the novel use of a ladder in her EVP choke. She had said she would earn her place as the rightful Number One Contender to the big gold, and she'd done that too.

The sky was the limit at this point. The ashes of her past were burned away, and this Phoenix of shadows was fully risen.

==

January 14th 2014
Chicago Illinois


A Starbucks' Caramel flan latte with a shot of mocha warmed her hands as Rori relaxed after her latest dip in an ice bath and then straight into a warm whirlpool bath. Aurora Lynn Jansen considered herself quite spoiled, honestly but she hadn't let it change her. It pleased her beloved Legacy to do it, and that was that. Her lips quirked in a smile remembering part of the speech he'd given when he'd appeared on SCW's Wildcard for the first time.

I don’t try to drag your adoration out of you. I don’t give a fuck what you think. You’re going to buy the shit SCW decided to stamp my logo on and I’m going to go buy my girlfriend shoes that cost more than your house. Why? Because I can. I’m going to drink a bottle of scotch tonight that costs more than most of you make in a month. Why? Because I can.

So much had changed since last year. She'd been thrilled to participate in Survive and Conquer, managing to eliminate two and make a big impression on Rex Evans. He made her laugh, he'd quite forgiven her the kick to the junk over pulling her hair and sworn the tornado DDT she'd dropped him with had hurt worse. Rex had gone on last year to almost win it, Aurora had been eliminated by Matt Slater after taking out Reya Serra and Stefan Raab.

She'd really and truly enjoyed herself in that violent spectacle, the rush of all those people involved and dealing out the violence. Other people could find themselves quickly overwhelmed in a match like this, but not Rori. She'd had a very rough, very violent match two days ago against Arkia Fisk and Georgie Nickles and won. Arkia and she though, there was truth in the saying there's no rest for the wicked though Arkia might deny she was all that wicked! They would be joining their fellow PW wrestlers in Munich for Survive and Conquer and lo and behold...most of them had been drawn for Group Four.

Texts were sent. She lit up Twitter. While it was true she had long-term issues with one Rowyn Starr, she was magnanimously willing to put all that past aside for one night. One didn't get Wrestler of the Year by passing up opportunities like this and going 'nahhhh'.

No matter what, it would be inevitable that PW would dominate with numbers Group Four. If they could stick together, they could ensure that despite the presence of True Expert Doug E Fresh and the ever vile M.D.K., that a PW star would end the night as the winner of the group. It was a unique situation, likely never to happen again, but what they had at Survive and Conquer was a good old fashioned faction.

Now, it was certain that Fresh and M.D.K. were not the only threats in the group outside of the wrestlers from PW. But no matter what might be said, she knew for example that for all he would want a win, it would be very difficult for Jason Kash to forgive the knife that had been inserted into his back by his 'brother' Johnny Knuckles. Who knew when Kash would get his next shot for well-deserved revenge after all? There were others that could be called dark horses if you didn't know them, like SCW's Persephone Waters, PDW's Charlie Luzon, former CWC Tag Champion Katherine Stryfe...each person in the match would have something going for them that could prove to be a surprise.

So she did the ice baths, had the extra checks. She was battered but she wasn't weak, and coming off a win like she had, she felt good going into this. Rori wouldn't guarantee a win, not even of her own group. Let others talk about how they would 'conquer'. It was the stark truth that at this point in her career, Rori didn't need a win in Survive and Conquer to make her name. But as with all she did, she wanted those who watched the Group Four match to be slack-jawed with awe at what they were witnessing.

It was the second best thing she did, creating that feeling of awe in the hearts of wrestling fans whether she cared about them personally or not.

Everyone knew what the first best thing she did was.

Win.

==

Make yourselves sheep, and the wolves will eat you.
Italian Saying

==

November 23rd 79 AD
The Bay of Naples


It began like many such things do...ignored by the general populace. On the 19th or so, small earthquakes started and over the next four days kept happening and became more frequent. But small quakes happened quite often in the region Romans called Campania, and while a few began to wonder if there might not be a larger quake coming as had been endured seventeen years prior it did not stop the day to day business of the city dwellers. Over the next two days, an estimated sixteen thousand people would die, suffocated or burned alive by the pyroclastic flows and thick falling ash. As Herculaneum and Pompeii burned, buried under tons of volcanic ash and lava two sets of green eyes watched, from the deck of a small ship taken from the rescue fleet launched by Pliny the Elder. Centuries from now someone would describe what had happened those two days, trying to reconstruct what it might have been like to those that endured the eruption of Vesuvius to watch it as it happened and they imagined that it would have been as if the very mouth of hell opened up to spew brimstone down upon the sinners that lived there. Considering some of the frescoes uncovered they might not have been too far off on the sinners portion of that statement.

The man who had commandeered the ship was unusually tall, and striking in his appearance. He finished rolling the last corpse of those that attempted to keep him from taking the ship into the sea. He might have let them go had they just let him take the ship, only because time was of the essence here. A Tsunami would follow the quakes after the volcano erupted, he knew that. Perhaps another would worry about being on the Bay during such, but he had been a sorcerer in the court of more than one King, so to speak. He ably got the ship away from shore, the waves should have kept him from departing went still as glass for him. Others would burn alive this day, but not he and his lady. He turned to check on her, bundled in her gauzy garments of rich and fine linen as she rested. She was as singularly dangerous and as beautiful as a hunting cat, her green eyes nearly glowing as she looked up at him from under her raven lashes. There were a few tiny burns on her feet, unavoidable all things considered, but other than that her pale skin was unmarred and untouched by the ash that choked the very air in the city they had fled.

He closed his eyes for a moment, and it was a look of ecstasy that came over him, hearing the screams of all those lost souls, lives cut so dramatically short.

Her voice was low and soft, holding a hint of wonder as the sky darkened and their ship sailed on, the sea smooth as glass for them but turbulent as they passed.

“Oh! Do you see them, beloved? Do you see all the lights?”

His emerald eyes opened and a crooked smile came to his lips. The lights like fireflies, were markers for each body that fell, each man woman or child that was crowded under an arch or roof seeking safety only to have their lives ripped away from the heat, lack of oxygen from the ash, or from the fires that the lava brought. His voice held a note of indulgence for her.

“Of course I do.”

==

January 18th 2014
Blog, published on aurorajansen.net


It's just amazing how much things have changed since I was last poised to enter a Survive and Conquer. Obviously there's no way I could have predicted all the changes and challenges that I have endured over the course of that year. I had my stated goals, I knew what I wanted and what I needed to happen. I had just begun my own personal road to redemption, won the first title since my return to wrestling and I was curious. It's a flaw of mine I suppose, that curiosity so like a cat. We've all heard it before how that story ends, but I'm here to tell you that just because “they” say so, doesn't mean that it's right, that it's fate, that it's set in stone. After all, I was never supposed to come back and yet I just finished the best year of my career. I held that Television title proudly from January 14th to July 14th and broke a record. I gained the tag team titles and still hold them...though it looks like I'm going to need a new partner soon! Now, they have no choice but to recognize me for what I am. I'm the standing Number One Contender to the World Title. A title that in other places I was told I would never be 'enough' to hold simply because I'm a woman.

I'll let you absorb how absolutely backwards and stupid that was.

Like it or not, like me or not, I stand where I do because I'm very, very good at this. I've long said that I may not be the best person in any given match, but I am the best wrestler. That ring is where I'm in charge, where I'm faster and just better than most people would ever give me credit for. Until they've had to fight me, and end up on their ass, or had their head DDT'd into the mat, or...well you get the picture I'm sure. After all, no one reading this doesn't 'get it'. At least, I'd hope so.

Looking at the names of all those I'll be sharing a ring with for certain in Munich, thinking about those that might just be waiting if I manage to pull a shadowy little miracle out of my absolutely amazing cleavage... I've always said I love a challenge. A real challenge, you know? The kind where it's impossible to tell how the chips will fall, and who's going to be left standing when the smoke clears. There are a couple of people in this whole shebang I'd love to face, I won't lie.

Some just to say I got to punch them in the mouth, because I'm kind of like that. It might not be the most ladylike thing to say, but I'm comfortable with me, and my seven foot tall fiancé who let me make the fair city of Chicago my home pretty much makes me feel I win at life. Legacy is pretty much one of a kind, and after all I deserve the best. So I look at this field of wrestlers not as numbers, or little green diamonds winking over a field of SIMS...or however else they've been quantified before. I see people I want to drop on their heads with one of my DDTs, smack them a hard one right in the mush...you know, all the things that make a match fun.

Well, fun for me.

However, this group...the way they've divided things up before we really get down to it, instead of one huge seemingly never-ending OTR Battle Royal, we get four smaller more easily managed ones. In a way, that's keen. It gives an individual wrestler a better chance to shine, for as long as they're in the ring. At least, I'd hope so. There are always going to be one or two that seem to rush in just to rush right back out again. What was sort of fun for me though was seeing just how my group shaped up, and after I got over the fact that I might get to be DDT'ing the infamous MDK or Doug E Fresh...it was like I had a moment where I simply couldn't believe my eyes.

I may or may not have heard the refrain from a Queen song in my head.

Granted, not all of us get along all the time. In fact, I can state quite plainly that on any other day I would stand up and tell the world how much I despise Rowyn Starr. Arkia and I, we get in the ring it's usually a war, but afterward we're thick as thieves. I'm a bit of a fan of Dexter, and I get along well with Faith. What an absolute coup it would be, if we were able to band together and toss the rest of you out to leave the group with a definite Phoenix Wrestling winner! So that's the offer loves. Us against them, on a really truly large stage and then let what happens happen.

Would I like to be the one? I'd be lying if I said no, because there's a potential I'd get to fight me some Rex Evans, Diego de la Vega, or Jack Benevolence...hey, I have my own bucket list and it's nothing personal, I just love to challenge the best and again, I think I deserve the best. I've worked my ass off to get to that spot, and you can bet I want to enjoy it as much as I can. Plus if Dom makes his way out of his group and I make my way out of mine, we can have a little #BroetteVsBro...heh.

One of us from each group is going to have a cage match to look forward to, and then three move on to a street fight, then the final two in a Hell in a Cell Ladder Match. All I can say is...someone is going to have a long night full of pain, and they're going to have to prove they have not just the heart, not just the skill, not just the will to win to get through it. They're going to have to have zero conscience about what they have to do, to get the win.

It isn't about what clever words you can dream up to twist around the name of the event. Or talk of how you've 'survived' and how you'll 'conquer'. It isn't even really about that million dollars they're ponying up for the winner...not for most of us.

What it comes down to is who you're ready to make bleed and toss aside to claw your way up to where you want to be.

Believe.

==

Somewhere in Germany...Munich, maybe.

Rori posted her blog, and gently closed out her internet on the tablet she'd written it on. The extra travel was a bitch, but in this business you did what you had to. Maybe, she should have sat this one out. After the match she'd gone through, she doubted if anyone would have said a word to her...or Arkia for that matter. But they weren't like that, not either of them. Sometimes too, it wasn't so much about the win as it was being a part of something unique. Wins were nice, she couldn't deny that. But a loss in a field of this size could still mean something. Rivalries could kick off or have a proper ending. There were as many stories to be told as there were wrestlers in it, of that she was certain.

With a twist of her clever fingers she removed the cap from her bottle of Johnnie Walker Blue and poured herself a nice glass, over ice the way she liked it. A bottle would last longer if it was just her, but considering who else would be drinking it with her she couldn't say that she minded how quickly it went then.

She swirled the amber liquid, making that ice clink against the glass and a slow smile touched her lips as she lifted the glass in a silent toast.

He'd know. He always did.

[Word Count 3385 with coding]

[thatjerguy]

::A New Nightmare Rises::
Survive and Conquer


****



“All living things contain a measure of madness that moves them in strange, sometimes inexplicable ways. This madness can be saving; it is part and parcel of the ability to adapt. Without it, no species would survive.”

― Yann Martel, Life of Pi



Tick, tock. Tick, tock.



The sound of a grandfather clock echoed off in the distance as a camera slowly came to life; showcasing itself to be within a manor long since forgotten by many, saved for one soul. Years upon years of her younger moments had been spent in this very place; now rundown and in ruins; a forgotten relic for the world to one day find and maybe make it a monument to tell the tale of all those who once called this place home.



"Why are you bothering, Katherine? You do realize that the chances of you winning this thing are slim to none, right?! You are in the group of death; facing down living legends for christ sake!"



A soft but elegant voice broke through the shadows of the hallway, followed soon by the sound of feet clicking against the marble flooring. As the camera panned towards this, she would appear, dressed in a fiery red dress with black knee high stilettos. Katherine Anne Stryfe, a living legend in her own right stood in front of the camera for the first time since her last appearance in Femme Fatale Wrestling. Much had changed since that moment in her career; for starters she had went on a hiatus from the wrestling business; citing a need to let her body recoup from the years of abuse it had endured. The one big change however was purely cosmetic; gone was her once crimson coloured hair, replaced now with a pure blonde look. Her evolution so to speak; the new nightmare had risen as she herself had said on twitter.



"I like a challenge, and I like my odds. I wouldn't want this any other way; my return to the wrestling world for this one night affair in Germany to further cement my legacy in this business. You want to know how I plan to do that? By becoming the first woman to ever win Survive and Conquer; because all it takes is to look at my resume and you'll see I'm the "Queen of Firsts" in this business of ours."



Katherine smirked a curt smirk at the camera as she walked down the hallway, her hand trailing against the wall, touching picture frames in the process. Her head tilts to the side before she stops at the entrance to a room; her hand coming to rest on the tarnished silver door knob.



"Just in FFW alone, I was the first triple crown champion, first woman to hold two titles at once and as of this video, still the first and only grandslam champion in that company's history. That netted me a Hall of Fame in that company and still I'm not satisfied; my thirst for immortality in the wrestling world not quenched. Because if you dwell further down the rabbit hole you'll come to see that FFW was only my last stop in this business for me where I took it by storm. No there were others before it; much like this event will not be the last after it. Before Doug E. Fresh became a dual champion in the CWC; I was. I held the CWC Hardcore Championship along with one half of their tag titles. Before Doug E. Fresh along with Paradox McSweeny became 'the longest reigning tag champions' in CWC history; I was first alongside my sisters in battle; Valerie Lamb and Emma MacNamara as Nightmare, Inc; giving us two CWC Tag Champions of the year honours. But unlike Mr. Fresh and Mr. McSweeny; Nightmare Inc faced much stiffer competition; we put the CWC on the map; we took it from meager beginnings to the striving company it had became until it started to crumble. Is it Doug's fault? Maybe it is, maybe it isn't... but as far as I and many others care; their 'reign' has an astrax around it."



The Beautiful Nightmare's eyes blinked twice before she opened the door; dust particles flying in the air as flashes of the sun's light crashed into the camera's lens. She would enter the room slowly; surveying what was left of it; mainly a single dresser drawer and a bed that sat in the far corner of the room; and at the foot of that bed would rest a chest that had seen better days; rust had taken over its once brilliant shine; stripping it of any youth it once had. Katherine walked towards the chest, running her hand across the top before dropping down to one knee; looking at the lock; she would produce a key from the side of her footwear and unlock the lock; placing it on the floor. With her free hand; she slowly opened the chest, sending dust flying into the air as she did so. Reaching into the chest, Katherine pulled out an old photo album, placing it on the bed.



“You see the difference between all of you and me is... you all talk too much. I don’t need to talk, I’ve let my actions speak for me over the years and it has spoken volumes. I’m a survivor and a conqueror and everything has lead me to this very moment in time. Seventy nine of us will fall short and only one can survive. I will be that one; not because I think I can do this; but because I KNOW I can do this; I’ve proven time in and time out that when you count me out; I come back stronger than ever. I also make no bullshit claim that I’m doing this for the ‘experience’; you can leave that for the rookies and the liars. I’m doing this to prove I’m the best damned wrestler this business has ever known; I’m doing this for the fame and the money. Anything else being said about this event and why they have entered are all lies; we all do this for the fame. It’s our mistress, our vice... without this, we would crumble by the wayside. It’s like a crack fiend needing his next hit just to survive the night; we’ll lie, cheat, and steal for it. I’ve given my blood, my sweat, and my tears for this business and I’d gladly do it all again.”



She opened the album; the camera quickly taking in all the pictures; showcasing that they were of her and her family and when Katherine reached a certain photo, one hand touched the photo and the other reached for a necklace dangling from her neck. She took a breath, removing her hand and the camera caught a glimpse of what could only be of a young Katherine with her father and mother.



“I fight because she never got the chance to. Taken from me too soon; from us... she has always been my guardian angel. Every time I’ve been knocked down, I hear her voice telling me to get up, to fight, that I’m not done yet! That mindset has served me well and it will do the same here. I’m not fighting for just me; I’m fighting for her, I’m fighting because she sacrificed herself so I could live; it’s the least I could do.”



A flip of the page and another stop when she reached a photo of her son shortly after his birth; a smile on Katherine’s face followed this and remained as she looked up at the camera and nodded her head.



“I fight for him, my son; Matthew Stryfe. I fight so he can have a safe life; a life free of the pain and the torment I had growing up. I fight so he can see that somethings are worth fighting for... family being the biggest one. As long as air is escaping my lungs; I will fight for him. No matter how banged up I am; no matter how many Norman Bates showers I endure; I fight.... I survive... I conquer.”



She would flip to the book one more time, this one landing on a photo of her late husband, Jacob Stryfe. Kat bit her lip hard, drawing blood and her hand once more clutched onto the necklace around her neck; fighting back the emotions.



“I... fight... for him, my late husband; taken from me out of bitterness and a dick measuring contest. I’ve never forgiven those responsible for it and I never will; no matter if they were involved directly or not... guilty by fuckin’ association. So I fight to show that you never broke me; you only made me stronger. I survived it... and I conquered it. and one day, I promise that you will get your just deserts; every last one of you involved in it.”



One last turn of the book and it lands on a very recent photo; showing her happy with a beautiful girl wrapping her arms around her waist; smiles on both of their faces. Katherine chuckles to herself; removing this photo and placing it close to her heart and winks at the camera.



“And now... now I fight for her as well. At my worst she brought me back from the brink of destruction. She fought for me when I had no fight left... my love, my heart, my soul, my everything. So I fight for her, I fight for our love, for our future. Zoe, I love you, you saved my life and I wanted you to know that. No matter how many times I fall short of the glory you bestowed upon me; I know I’m forever good enough for you. So I fight for you, for us. and even though we still live in a world where we are shunned... together, Zoe, you and I... we will survive and we will conquer.”



Katherine closes the book and places it back into the chest, slamming it shut with her foot. She looks right at the camera and smirks; her eyes showing a sign of fire deep from within.



“To the nineteen other souls in my group, I want you to realize something. You all fight for our own reasons; but I’ve been fighting my entire life.... and this right here? It’s nothing new to me, this feeling I have burning deep down inside my chest; I’m saving it for when we fight. One... by....one... you all will fall and I swear as god as my witness; I’ll be the last woman standing and I will go on to win the entire damned event. Because there is but one simple rule every last one of you need to know.... if I live...”



The camera pans closer to her eyes.



“You lose!”



Fin
No one is untouchable

[Rowyn Starr]

January 24, 2014
Oberwesel, Germany
Castle Schönburg, Room 12


It was a dark and stormy night.


The view from the window that looked out over the Rhine was enshrouded in darkness. Every few seconds, a fleeting view of the river valley and the houses below came through sporadic flashes of lightning. Rowyn Starr sat staring out the window, not seeing the occasional picture afforded through the flash photography of nature’s chaotic paparazzo. His attention was on the voice speaking into his ear, courtesy of his cell phone.


“School’s been off and on. With the snow we’ve had since the start of the new year, we’ve only had four or five days of class. But it’s enough to know I don’t miss Advanced Chemistry. Or Calculus, especially when Mr. Brinkman piles on the homework. I don’t see how you managed to slog your way through these classes when you had to have them for college requirements.”


Rowyn threw back his head, starting to laugh at his younger sister Crystal’s despair with her state of high school academia. Behind him, he heard the rustling of bed sheets as Dierdra Petrova rolled over. He quickly stopped laughing, holding his breath to see if his laughter had shaken his moy unalii out of her restful sleep. Just being here was a dream come true for her. Ever since her days of travelling through Europe as a university student, she’d had a fascination with castles. Not long after they’d officially became a couple, she’d confided to him that spending the night in an authentic castle was one of the things she’d wanted to do in her lifetime. With Survive and Conquer taking place in Munich, Germany, Rowyn had started researching online and making inquires to make Dierdra’s wish come true. The search turned out to be harder than expected. Most of the castles in Germany were privately owned, and the rest were only open to the public as museums. Exceptions to the rule had included a couple of spots closer to Munich, but both of those had been youth hostels instead of hotels. Finally, he’d discovered Castle Schönburg. Even then, he’d almost failed to secure lodgings due to needing reservations outside of the seasonal operating times. The establishment wasn’t open for lodgings from mid-January to mid-March, due to the winter weather and the cost to keep such a place warm during the off-season. It had taken three days of phone tag and several calls to reach the senior manager. Only by offering to pay triple the cost for a night’s lodging, plus the cost of heating for the room as well as a huge cash deposit up front was Rowyn finally able to secure a night’s lodging and turn Deirdra’s fantasy into a post-Christmas reality. Watching her sleep, Rowyn realized that it was all worth it.


Especially with what little time he had left before his day of reckoning.


When she didn’t move, Rowyn got up out of his chair and over to his side of the double bed and stepped into a pair of bathroom slippers as a clap of thunder boomed outside the windows of the cozy room.


“Seriously,” he heard Crystal whine in his ear. “How did you do it? I’m about to just throw my books out the window and come follow you around the world. You’re becoming quite the globetrotter.”


“Don’t remind me. I’ve got to be on a plane for Las Vegas after Survive and Conquer is over with. Globetrotting isn’t what it’s cracked up to be,” he said, speaking at a low volume. “I got help from a couple of my friends who had a better grasp on the subject than I did. Besides, Mom and Dad’s rule was that if I came home with C’s or worse on my report card, they’d yank me off the baseball team and the track team. Not being able to play sports was motivation enough for me to toe the mark on grades.”


Rowyn silently picked up his room key off the nightstand and slipped out the door and into the carpeted hallway. Locking the door behind him, he shivered as the cold, damp air seemed to seep into his soul. Since the night of his birthday, the day before New Year’s Eve, Rowyn had made the effort to talk via phone to his family once a day, no matter where he was. It was something that brought him closer together with them, but it was also the result of what he’d come to realize on that starry, starry, night three weeks ago.


His time to die was fast approaching.


Not suicide. Not a death of choice. Just a sacrifice of necessity. Through his passing, one soul would be spared while another tormented soul could cross over and find peace.


Rowyn walked through the hallways of the ground floor to keep from shivering as the topic of conversation between himself and his sister advanced from school subjects to upcoming spring track meets to the boy Crystal was currently dating. Rowyn grinned in spite of himself when she told him that he wasn’t Cherokee.


“Am I going to have to find this young man and give him the ‘sharpening my tomahawk’ lecture about respecting you?”


“Dad already beat you to it. And Andy’s behaved himself on what dates we’ve been able to have. He’s even brought me home on time. Mom seems to like him pretty well. With Dad, it’s hard to say. Do you think he’d be overprotective of me?”


“You’re his daughter. It’s his right to be overprotective.”


“To a point. So how do you think you’re going to fare in Survive & Conquer?”


The question had caught Rowyn off-guard. He hadn’t really thought about just how far he could go. In the distance, he could hear the faint sound of rolling thunder from the storm.


“If I’m lucky, I won’t get thrown out right after I enter the ring. There are so many alpha males and alpha females in my rumble group. I’m high on my bones, but maybe I’ll take a couple of people out and make a good showing before I’m eliminated.”


“You can take this.”


“Oh, really? What makes you so sure of that?”


“It’s the last one. And after watching Risen and what could have been your last match? You really stepped it up. You’ll do the same in this match.”


Rowyn laughed. “You want to come and take my place? I’d put money on you to win it all, as confident as you’re sounding.”


Crystal giggled in response. “And leave poor defenseless Andy to the mercy of my tomahawk wielding big brother? I don’t think so.”


Rowyn’s footsteps had brought him to a door with a glass pane. Through the pane, a spiral staircase ascended upwards inside the dimly lit interior.


“I’ve got to go, Brother. Mom’s got supper ready for us. She wanted me to tell you she and Dad love you and that they’ll talk to you again tomorrow.”


“Tell them I love them, too, Sis. Love you, too. Goodbye.”


As Rowyn hung up, he slowly opened the stairwell door and stepped in. As he did, he caught a faint whiff of orange blossom perfume. A feeling of uneasiness crept over his body, causing him to shiver even more.


Is she here?


A shadow moved against the backside wall just below and under the spiral staircase. Rowyn shrank back, knowing that the game had changed since the last time that smell had reached his nostrils. A harbinger that signaled painful memories of cowardice to a time of saving grace now gone to a time of worse things, such was the smell of orange blossoms to him. He thought it was a time of worse things before he stepped to the wall and realized the shadow cast against it was his own.


Breathing a sigh of relief, Rowyn walked over, stooping under the staircase. With his left hand, he reached out and touched the shadow on the wall, feeling the cold, dank, dampness of the stone beneath his hand.


Just my imagination. Could it be that I’m starting to crack up this close to the end? You got a little spooked, but there’s nothing to be afraid of. Just relax,and get back under the covers with Dia where you belong.


He leaned against the back of the wall, taking a moment to build up the courage to begin the trek back to his room. As he placed his right hand on the stairwell wall for support, he felt the stone under his palm move forward just an inch. At the same time, he felt the wall behind him move under his weight and he scrambled forward to keep from falling backwards. As he looked around, he noticed a crack in the wall under the stairwell that hadn’t been there before.


Rowyn gave the wall a puzzled look before his curiosity got the better of him. Moving to the wall, he slowly pushed against it. A low grated rumble echoed in the stairwell as he moved the previously hidden stone door back until it thumped into an unseen obstruction. The opening, pitch black, was now wide enough to fit through. Looking around, he moved back and shut the outer stairwell door. Using his cellphone as a makeshift flashlight, he slowly approached and slipped into the passage beyond.


Waving his cellphone around, Rowyn saw that he stood at the top of a spiraling staircase covered in a layer of dust and thick cobwebs on either side of the wall. He slowly descended the stairwell. leaving a footprint on each step as he slowly circled downward, counting each step. When he reached seventy-nine, the stairs had ended on a small landing.



Directly in front of him stood an iron door, covered with spots of brownish colored rust as well as several strands of cobwebs. He brushed the cobwebs aside, coughing briefly as a small cloud of dust found its way into his mouth and throat. He reached out and pulled on the door handle. It wouldn’t budge. Rowyn turned the handle and pulled, then pushed on the handle with the same result.


Whatever’s in here, I can’t get to it, he surmised. Suddenly he noticed that a small frame had been cut out of the stonework surrounding the door. Above the frame was a small ledge.


No one would be crazy enough to hide a door key up there!


He ran his finger along the ledge. Halfway across, he hit paydirt, knocking an iron key from the top of the frame. He picked up the key and stuck it in the keyhole and turned it to the right. A small feeling of satisfaction washed over him as a tell-tale clicking sound indicated the door was unlocked. Rowyn pushed open the door and stepped inside.


The room was no bigger than a small bathroom, but Rowyn had felt as though he’d walked into a chamber of horrors when he saw the tattered red flag with a white circle and swastika in the middle hanging across the opposite side of the room.. A small desk with a simple wooden chair and a metal filing cabinet took up most of the space in the tiny room. On top of the desk stood a candelabra that held two burned and partially leaning candlesticks. Next to the candelabra was a silver lighter with a swastika emblazoned on the side.


Rowyn stepped to the desk and picked up the lighter, flipping the silver top open. Just holding the lighter filled his soul with wretched loathing at the thought of having such a symbol of universal hatred, violence, and death. Grimacing, he flicked the lighter, not expecting more than a rebellious spark, but a bright yellow flame sprung up as the lighter caught fire. Taking care to adjust the candles, he lit the fuses. A wave of uncleanliness washed over him as he tossed the lighter aside and began searching the room.


Until Rowyn opened one of the desk drawers and discovered the manilla folders, a search of the furnishings had turned up nothing but a couple of rotten wooden pencils. Several of the papers within the folders were yellowed with age. Slowly, Rowyn flipped through each file before setting it on the desk.


At first, all the files were in German, a language he didn’t understand. In addition to documents, he skimmed through a few maps, also labeled in German as well as a few diagnostic blueprints of new and improved creations of German weapons and artillery. Everything remained the same until the last file. That one was marked, ‘Manhattan Project’ - CLASSIFIED.


I’ve heard this somewhere before. But where?


As Rowyn flipped through the pages, he noticed a handwritten letter in German. Putting that to the side, he scanned through the rest of the file. One section of the file was a chemical blueprint for nuclear fission, including diagrams of cause-and-effect reactions according to chemical make-up. More documents included schematics of aerial bombs, weight and load ratio of payloads for each type of bomb as well as the physical structure and characteristics of the aerial bombs themselves. Other documents included pictures of men and women from a previous error at stations along the line, pushing buttons and turning wheels while looking at gauges built into the steel walls of their workstations. Another picture included some type of circular track and other pictures were aerial shots of work plants. As he looked through the photos, he noticed a handwritten scrawl.


“Y-12 Plant. Oak Ridge, TN.” Sept. 1944


Whatever secret this file held wouldn’t have been good for the Allies in World War II, but Rowyn wanted to find out more about what he had and for that, he needed his laptop. Closing everything up, he quickly blew out the flames and retraced his steps back to his room, resealing the hidden passages as he left.


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


In the early morning hours, Rowyn stood in the hotel’s lounge, feeding each individual paper within the file into the hungry maw of the flames in the fireplace, his face white with shock. He wasn’t sure if what he was doing was wrong, but he was sure it wouldn’t bring more recognition to a madman responsible for systematically trying to exterminate an entire race from the face of continental Europe and who’d almost brought the world to its knees.


The end result of three hours of research was horrifying. Rowyn was holding classified documents on the creation and development of the atomic bomb. Even then, he’d not been absolutely certain, but his use of Google Translator to decipher the letter had been the final key to understanding what he had. Even as he put the translation to flame, he felt his skin crawl as he recalled the words..


My Führer,


A bright day is dawning for our fortunes within this war. I hold in my possession sensitive data provided to me by our agent within the Soviet NKGB, passed on to him by the American traitor David Greenglass.



The data contains all of the necessary formulas and supplies for the construction of the atomic bomb. While the American military is in the final stages of production, it is my belief that this material is not only the breakthrough key for Uranverein, it will provide the edge that is needed for our beloved Deutschland to build their own atomic weapon before the Americans and the Soviets and turn the tide against the Allied forces that gather around our borders.


We have the resources and while one strike would not deal a decisive blow to the Allies, it will create confusion and dissary, as well as buy our armies the time to recover and regroup to take the offense. Due to my association with my Soviet contact, I’ve recently come under suspicion by either the SS or Abwehr, quite possibly for being conspiring to commit treason against our beleaguered motherland, which could be no further from the truth. I stand by you, as I stand by my country. Hail Deutschland! Hail Hitler!


Josef Rheinhandler

November 7, 1944


Shaking, Rowyn fed the fire. Josef had disappeared two days after his missive to his superior guide, possibly murdered by one of the two groups he’d written about. Quietly, he disposed of evidence that would only serve to embolden a moment of history for a fanatical and evil group that the rest of the world wanted to forget had ever existed. It wasn’t just the horrible atrocities of the Holocaust that was fresh on his mind. It was Jesse Owens, the African-American track and field athlete that Hitler refused to shake hands with after he’d just won an Olympic gold medal. It wasn’t just Jews that were looked down on, but those that the Nazi party considered to be lesser races, not supreme. And that included Native Americans like himself.


Rowyn stirred the ashes within the fireplace, making sure that nothing remained of the papers. History was all about moments, but this was one moment that Rowyn wanted to ensure would stay dead and buried.


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


Growing up, I never once said, ‘I want to be a professional wrestler’. When I lost my place within my tribe and sat out to wander, I discovered what I wanted to be.


Me.


To be me, I had to find out who Rowyn Starr really was. I found out that he was of a proud people and I found out he wanted to bring a sense of honor and pride to those people whom had given him life with both their heritage and bloodline. I found out that he was a man that had the inner strength to pick himself up and dust himself off whenever life dealt him a bad card from the deck. I found out that he was someone who refused to quit in the face of adversity. I found out that he was a warrior, full of spirit, toughness, and heart.


To simply put it, Rowyn Starr is a wrestler. He’s also a survivor. That’s me in a nutshell. And I want to make history as a professional wrestler in Munich, Germany.


I have no delusions of grandeur about how hard, if not statistically impossible it is for me to come out on top in this match. Seventy-nine superstars will be on hand, looking to make their mark on wrestling history. Just take a look at my pool of competition in this match. It reads like a ‘Who’s Who of Professional Wrestling’ and if I may be so biased, I believe my rumble group is the toughest one out of all four groups in this contest of controlled warfare. Just to be the last one standing out of this group would be a highly successful accomplishment in itself.


When I step into this match, I’ll see quite a few familiar faces. Like me, they’re going to be in there representing Phoenix Wrestling by standing tall and fighting hard just like I know they can. To have someone representing the company I now call home to take home the prize would be a testament to just how tough of an organization we are. Solidarity in numbers can go a long way, but the awareness must remain that with each elimination, the closer we get to understanding that there’s nowhere we can hide and that conflict will be a certainty. If I lose that awareness, I know full well that anyone will be ready to pounce, seeking the chance to end my time inside the ring by a forced eviction over the top rope.


But there’s something that stands out to me, crystal clear, that may seem gray and dim to everyone else. This is the last time we’ll ever see a match of this magnitude like Survive and Conquer ever again. This is the last one, ladies and gentlemen. This is the one where we play for keeps. Once this match is over and a winner is decided, the ring won’t be set up again next year.

As a competitor, this will be my final appearance in this match, just as it will for everyone else.


I didn’t come to Munich just to get tossed over the top rope ten seconds after I slide in under the bottom rope. I didn’t come to Survive and Conquer just to hang around long enough to make a decent showing. I didn’t come to this match, looking to seek revenge against anyone for old wrongs.


I came here to compete as a warrior and competitor by outfighting nineteen of the best superstars to ever share time together in a ring. I came here to show my ability to adapt to a hostile structure and to escape from it. I came here to show my ability to hang tough and to go tooth and nail at a moment in time where anything goes. I came here to rise to the occasion, climb the mountain, and stand tall as I take in the view that only grabbing a briefcase hanging above a steel cage can grant. This is the last match, both for me, and for Survive and Conquer itself.


And I will be doing myself and the fans watching in Munich and around the world a severe injustice by not competing like it’s the last Survive & Conquer match because I’m going to wrestle as if it were the last match of my professional career.


This is where I make my mark on the history of professional wrestling. This is where I hold nothing back. This is the moment where I will stand and I will fight as if it were my last fight. I challenge everyone in this match, from established veteran to aspiring rookie, to reach down within yourself and fight as if you were wrestling your last match on Earth. All of you are in this match for your own reasons, but let me give you another reason.


This will be the last time.


There will be no next year.


I won’t guarantee anything except that I will give the best that I have to give of myself in this match, but rest assured I’m going to be doing everything that I can to stay in this match for as long as I can because there will be no more chances after it’s all said and done.


If there were ever a time for me to rise to the top and to shine brightly, Survive and Conquer is that time. If there was ever a time for any of you to show what you can do in this type of match, now is the time to step up, grab this opportunity with your hands, and make the most of the time that you have to show.


I call myself the Darkest Star...but I’m just one star out of eighty. If there’s anything that I can say that will stick with any of you, it’s this: let your star shine as brightly as you can.


And if we all do that, we’ll end Survive & Conquer the way it deserves to end: with a match that will live on forever in the hearts and minds of all the competitors who were there as well as the fans who got to bear witness to one of the biggest matches in wrestling history.


Alasdi nasginai gadousdi duyugodv!


FIGHT FOR WHAT'S RIGHT!

[arkiafisk]

OOC: 3994 according to Google Docs.

Dear resounding unknown public with a few known fuckers,

My name is Arkia Fisk...

I know, I know who the fuck cares right? Unfortunately for the lot of you, thinking that way makes you a complete short bus idiot who probably has no chance of making this extravaganza any level of interesting. The amount of shortsighted dare I say overall blindness in this profession is extraordinary. So believe me when I say I know most of you read that first sentence and didn't give two reasonable sized shits...

You are the ones I look forward to meeting the in that ring. Not to say I'm not a big deal but...

Yeah, I kinda am. Sure there are places I haven’t reached and pedestals I would still like to achieve but they will come. They will because I’m willing to do what it takes to reach them. They will because I’m still within my prime in a lot of ways. More than that I’m one of the most hardheaded, stubborn, and competitive professional wrestlers on the planet. I don't play this shit for fun or your fucking amusement, I'm here to throw bodies over ropes, then throw them to the mat, then throw a mill in the air. The real reward being the bragging rights more than anything. Lets be real, most of us involved in this are successful in their own right. For those of us that have truly been about our business in our careers a million dollars ain't shit. Personally, I got multiple times that sitting in the bank but its not about the bragging of commas in our bank accounts. Again, this is more about the right to say

I Came

I Survived

I Conquered…

Those last two rarely go hand in hand for most of us. Times in our lives where surviving simply isn’t enough. I am currently at a place in my wrestling career where that’s what I have been doing on a regular basis...surviving. I recently survived getting my head driven through a table at blinding speed by another participant and PW representative. She’s currently the number one contender to the World Title. She’s in group 4, a woman that I merely survive against but have never conquered. I think you can imagine my discomfort with that fact. Its funny because through that distaste there’s still a well known love and respect for this woman. I just hate standing across the ring from her ass. Aurora Jansen, I tend to survive you. I will not rest until I conquer you.

Other names reach my eye as this year seems to be quite Phoenix Wrestling heavy. It does pride me to know that we are so well represented but it all gives me pause cause the weaknesses are always known better by your peers. The value of being unknown and chance for surprise is lessened when I see my Phoenix Wrestling constituents but still there are those that will look at me and say, 'the hell is that?' Whereas others don't really have that luxury.

Doug E. Fresh...

M.D.K...

Wrestlers whose reputation precedes them my miles. The type of wrestlers who become favored to winning my group simply because their name is listed. Its respect that's been well earned and upheld by their success.
You know what, I take it back…y’all are the ones I look forward to seeing in that ring the most. I know how to survive, been doing it my entire career. When I know I'll be looking at some of the current greats in this sport, the multiple champs, True Experts, Hall of Famers...this is my opportunity to see where I measure up. If I can stand up to those greats with my one former World Championship reign and hang? If I can do more than simply survive..

Maybe, just maybe...I'm bound to become more than a survivor. Maybe a conqueror, with an everlasting legacy.

I plan to make you all remember me.

Sincerely,

Arkia Fisk

$*$*$*$*$*$*$*$*$*$

"You think you can actually do this?" The scoff to follow relayed to young Arkia quickly how much faith he had in her current aspirations.

Arkia and Andrew Fisk, the 4th and 3rd born to Daniel and Linda. Closest in age in comparison to the other 4 children in the house they have always shared a common bond or closeness unlike the others. Their birthdays are exactly 10 months apart. That whole waiting period after giving birth Linda and Daniel completely ignored. Thus a mere month after Andrew was born, Arkia was cooking. Within their close bond there's a bit of a rivalry. Arkia being the only girl in the house most let her get away with anything...Andrew didn't. He challenged her, made things a lot harder on her than her other brothers. At first Arkia hated his guts for it but as she got older she understood. Those days hadn't quite came yet.

The 12 year old Arkia sat beside her older brother both watching the professional wrestling show barely wanting to blink in fear of missing something big. Every time Arkia watched the hours of action it affirmed more and more to herself that this is what she wanted to do with her life. She wanted the challenge, the roar of the crowd, and the respect from others knowing this particular career path was one less traveled and even less achieved. No one listened to her when she verbalized her dreams and those that did gave her the reluctant 'yeah sure' pat upon her head. None of them realizing she was dead serious. This wasn't just a child's dream of becoming a firefighter, if given the opportunity she would take full advantage of it.

"Ohh ohh ohh! Here it comes!" Arkia yells excitedly at the screen as one warrior places his hand around his opponent's neck. "There he goes..."

BOOM BOOM BOOM! The echo of the body hitting the mat was quickly tuned out by the shouts of enjoyment by both preteens.

"OHHH THAT HAD TO HURT!!" Arkia stands up and starts feigning the chokeslam move on her personal imaginary opponent.

"FINISH HIM LIKE MORTAL KOMBAT!" Andrew stands and joins his younger sister with an imaginary opponent for himself. They both prance around practicing their own personal versions of the move as the match on screen has become secondary to their attention.

Andrew pauses in his own world and watches Arkia. "You're doing it wrong."

The smack of Arkia's lips tells him otherwise. "No, you're doing it wrong."

Andrew waves her off. "You didn't even see mine. Bet I do it better than you."

Arkia grims him. "I bet you don't."

"I bet I do." Andrew replies.

"Bet what?"

"Next time Dad takes us to DQ, I get your sundae."

"Fine."

"Let's go."

MINUTES LATER...

Both siblings are bouncing on the trampoline bought by their father last Christmas, as soon as the weather permitted the fun was on. They spent most of their summer break becoming their favorite wrestlers and battling it out for hours much to their mother's dislike. Today, the battle of the chokeslam. The stakes were high it's not like Daniel Fisk took them to Dairy Queen everyday and to lose out on a hot fudge sundae would be heartbreaking. Arkia knew she couldn't allow her older sibling to have another up against her. He won enough battles, when it came down to ice cream...it became war.

"Ok we will decide by who goes higher." Andrew lays down the rules. "Whoever has the biggest bounce off the trampoline. If you go higher in the air, I win. If I go higher in the air, you win. Ok?"

Arkia thinks about the set rules for a moment and they make sense to her, she nods. "Okay okay but who first?"

"I'll throw you first so you see what you can't reach and just give up." Andrew smiles toward Arkia. "I'm bigger than you, I'm going to win this."

Arkia's eyes narrow at the verbal challenge. She hated being pushed aside because of her being a girl and her size. It always jolted her to do anything the boys could do better. "Fine. I can't wait for TWO hot fudge sundaes. I might make yours strawberry just to be different."

Arkia stands in front of her brother and he places his hand around her neck while grabbing at her jean shorts. He nods the count and they slightly bounce together on each one.

"One.......Two.....Threeeeee..."

Andrew picks her up Arkia smiles as the air flows fast around her. At the apex of their jump Andrew unexpectedly loses grip of his sister leaving her to free fall from the apex of the jump to the trampoline, the bounce was wild and uncontrolled and flung Arkia back...way back...to the edge of the trampoline and the uncovered metal ringing around it.

Metal vs. Bone...metal wins everytime.

PAAAANNNGGG!!!

"MMMMMOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMYYYYYYY!!!" Arkia's screams are immediately followed by crocodile tears.

$*$*$*$*$*$*$*$*$*$

"I don't know how many times I told you all to stop play wrestling on that damn thing. Daniel shouldn't have bought the thing in the first place. ¡Jesús Arkia! Cuántas visitas al hospital en este año? (Jesus Arkia how many hospital visits in this year?)" Linda Fisk allows her anger and frustration to shine through in classic Cuban fashion inside the personal hospital room for her only daughter.

Young Arkia laid in the bed with a cast covering her right arm from her hand to elbow. She broke her arm in two different places assuming on impact and the other break as she fell from the trampoline altogether. She got her favorite color for the cast, a vibrant green. A nice color to match her eyes. As she laid there feeling better overall due to painkillers her head still couldn't help but hurt, her mother had a lot to do with it.

"-in the world were you and your brother thinking? !No levanto la estupidez! (I don't raise stupidity) You are just lucky I have insurance or we would have wrapped your arm next to a 2 by 4. Aren't you done with this whole phase Arkia? When you gonna start calming down and wearing dresses? Doing your hair? You know, girl stuff? I swear you are-"

"Where's my babygirl?" A large African American male with a short Caesar haircut walks into the room with a stuffed Minnie Mouse in hand and Arkia's favorite candy, Reese's peanut butter cups. He interrupted his wife midrant which Arkia would love him forever for, the stuffed animal and candy was just an add on. Stopping that storm was the real gift.

Arkia's eyes brightened. "Hi Daddy." She took the candy and stuffed Minnie from him. "Thank you."

Daniel Fisk followed up his presents with a kiss upon his daughter's forehead and after doing so sits at her bedside. "Broken right arm. You have officially broken every limb on your body at least once. Are you made of glass Key Key? You keep shattering on me."

"I keep telling her stop roughhousing. She plays outside with the boys constantly, basketball, football, wrestling. She needs to stop this sweetheart." Linda addresses her husband since he entered the room. She didn't appreciate his interruption as much as Arkia did.

"But I like to wrestle, I...I want to learn how to do it like on the tv." Arkia rubs her cast with her free hand as she looks at both her parents. "I wanna learn how to wrestle like on the mats and stuff."

This is the first either of her parents had heard of her true aspirations. Before she just watched as her elder siblings would laugh at her and disregard her. This was the first time she had told her parents about having a vested interest in anything. Most of the time her reaction would be a nonchalant shrug or an unreadable look in her eyes. This was different, this was something she was approaching them with instead of the other way around. They both were very surprised but then the reality of what was being asked hit Linda's face.

"Absolutely not.." She shot it down quicker than a shotgun aimed at a duck.

Arkia's face dropped as she looked at her father for any hope of help.

"Now Lynn, let's talk about it first." Daniel turns to face his wife. "This is the first time Arkia has ever been interested in something maybe we should see where it will end up."

"I can tell you where it will end...right back here with another broken something. She already proved that with her brother today." Lynn shakes her head. "Wrestling isn't for her. This phase will soon pass."

Arkia hated the word 'phase' made it sound like she was some kind of alien but comparing her and her mother they were as different as night and day.

"Maybe she'll get the proper instruction and not hurt herself and learn something while enjoying herself. You've been talking about how all your children need a hobby, maybe this is hers." Dan grabs Lynn's hand and looks at her. "Come on for all we know it may not last a month but at least let her invest in an interest. Hmm?"

Linda looked down at him and the face of her pleading daughter and exhales heavy. "If we put the money into it, she better have more than a month's interest."

"Mommy I'll have more than a month's interest, I promise." Arkia smiled at both of her parents getting the answer she was wanting. "I can't wait till my arm gets better. I'm gonna become a wrestler! I'm gonna be good at it too!"

$*$*$*$*$*$*$*$*$*$

"Ok ladies lets just focus on zoning in right now. A warm up in a sense. I want to make sure you all are at ease before we really begin. Eyes closed, bodies limp. A few deep breaths to begin...in..."

Arkia has been told and warned numerous times about her light switch temper. The uncanny ability to go from 0 to 60 in .3 seconds has brought her more trouble than it's worth. After going to therapy and it adjusting only momentarily another option was brought for her to try out. Yoga, a place where the energy can be cycled out in a positive way. Known as a clean competitor in the ring there were becoming more incidents that were outside of the 'clean' persona she went by. The worst part being most of those incidents were happening outside of the ring. Anger being the foundation of each. Something needed to be done and this was Arkia putting in her effort to curb her less attractive traits. Traits that would only hinder her from her goals.

"Ok..exhale slowly ladies....slowly."

The yoga instructor stood in the front of the small classroom of women of varied ages helping them find their blissful calm before starting the first pose. Arkia Fisk stood toward the back taking her slow exhale while standing barefoot on her mat. She had on the normal gear a pair of black yoga pants and a red tanktop with her chest always making itself well known. Her eyes closed she rolled her neck slightly before exhaling slowly again. This being her 3rd week she saw a slight difference in her reaction in losing a number one contenders match in Phoenix Wrestling. Such a damning loss would have had her on a death to all rampage. The loss still hurt and was very disappointing but she was able to leave North Carolina without attempting to blow half of it up, which was definitely an improvement.

"Ok ladies, calm...relaxed. Mountain Pose...reach for the sky. All your aspirations and wants, they are there for the taking, just breathe and reach."

Arkia stands tall with her feet together, shoulders relaxed, and her arms at her sides. She raises her hands overhead with her palms facing each other with arms straight. She breathes steady and reaches for those aspirations, one she failed at the last time she was a part of Survive and Conquer.

All you've done is survive...never making a dent.

Arkia's eyebrows furrow at the thought.

You were a part of this before, you were so forgetful you've even forgotten when. Were you even in the ring when the 2010 winner Victor Hades entered? Barely even a stain on the canvas huh Business?

Arkia's mouth curls into a slight snarl before coursing back to normal. Her threaded eyebrows kept to an angered arch.

"Okay let's adjust to the Tree Pose...slight easy adjustment ladies. Keep to your breathing."

Another soon to be failed business venture huh? Have you learned your place is not to be among the greats but a subpar humor? Level One destroyed you verbally then killed you physically. Don't you remember? Not much has changed in 4 years has it? The only difference will be the name that takes you out this year.

Arkia sighs heavy exhaling and inhaling much faster than what is normally ordained during the exercise. Her mouth as turned in full displeasure and her focus is waning.

You will humor your group. Be the little spitfire that you are known to be for a few minutes and then you will go back to who you always have been, survival...failed survival. The wounded fawn holding on to its last breath before the stronger competitor and predator does away with you.

Arkia places her foot down on the floor and steps completely off the mat. She begins gathering her belongings as the instructor notices her motion.

"Uhh..Ms. Arkia? Is something wrong?" She asks looking to get Arkia's attention but she doesn't even get a glance in her direction. Arkia has since packed her things and headed for the door.

Arkia mutters to herself as she pushed the glass door open with force rushing through it.

$*$*$*$*$*$*$*$*$*$

The scene opens up to the face of Arkia Fisk standing tall behind a desk with three cardboard boxes seeming to be covering items underneath. They are lined up next to one another each with a letter on them accordingly 'A - B - C'. Arkia gives her best Vanna White impression toward the three unknowns as she addresses the camera in front of her.

"Welcome ladies and gentleman to 'What's REALLY being said' a new game show by yours truly. Something that fits the mold in many ways and if you find yourself not fitting inside these classifications, congrats you just might…might be doing it right. Oh but who am I to judge huh? I'm just similar to the day to day editorials saying my piece. A blog for entertainment but after Jan 26th some of you may see it as truth. But, let's not waste time right?"

Arkia places her hand over box 'A'

"The ‘achievers’ in this upcoming battle. Those that have had their glory ten times over and according to themselves have 'nothing else to prove.' Everything that could be done in professional wrestling they have done, this is just an alternative to sitting on their polar bear lined furniture eating corn chips. Yes the ones calling this the last hurrah or weighing their legacy being set in stone. You have told us this is just a warmup. It doesn't matter what happens because you are you and there's nothin we can do about it. You are better by default. Here...is what you’re really saying."

Arkia removes the box and a taped note sits on top of a mini coffin, she pulls the note from the coffin and begins to read.

"I'm a bitch...I cannot deal with the idea of my career coming to an end. My name must stay in the mouths of thousands...no millions. Without that I am no one and my mid life crisis will not give me the means to deal with that. So many cars I’ve bought but it still doesn’t erase the pain. I come into Survive and Conquer hoping someone kills me in the ring that way my name never dies and I am always remembered. Also I need my AARP card so I can make the early bird special at 5 am. Oh my god...DIE ALREADY!"

Arkia throws the paper over her shoulder completely disinterested and points to the coffin.

“Use it…anyway next.”

Arkia places her hand upon box ‘B’

"B...of course for the babies. The young ones who come in bright eyed looking at the business like the fucking first day of school. They are all about the goodwill of the match. Willing to shake every competitor’s hand in their grouping and maybe even give them a pre-match hug if the rules allow it. Here to enjoy a new experience, all with a smile on their face. Let me just go ahead and tell you what this group of people are really saying..."

Arkia picks up the box and sitting next to an unused diaper is a box of tissues.

“I am not ready. I am still the baby learning to crawl before walking and I am walking right into this pissing on myself with every step. I come knowing I have absolutely no shot in hell so at the very least I can get an autograph or two. I mean these are big names, how can I do it? Maybe if I smile enough they won’t eliminate me. Maybe I can get by on being nice. I give great hugs. I’m such a great person.”

Arkia scoffs before pointing at the diaper.

“Proceed to eject your baby back bitchness OUT of the ring. Thank you. Compete or drown.”

Arkia moves a little further down the table and smiles at the last box.

"Lastly C...the confused. The foolish. The ones in complete denial about themselves and the situation. These are the ‘I’ma win it just because’...type of competition. No rhyme or reason just the ones you should put your money on without a shadow of a doubt because ‘they’ say so. The ignorance being blissful, I don’t know if that will readily apply...I see a lot of pain in their future. As much as this match screams the inability to prepare there is the mental knowledge that anything can and probably will happen, the amount of people looking to reach that echelon and are willing to do much to get it. These are things to prepare for. The need for mental stability. But no, this is what they are really saying.”

Arkia uncovers the box and shakes her head with pity. A wrestling figurine with a strong build lays underneath the box, both feet melted off and the head laying beside the torso.

“I would wait until I get into the ring to have someone shoot me in the foot or cut my head off but as you can see I’d rather do that myself. I am the fucking terror that flaps in the night and can see through walls like Superman. Darkwing Duck bitches! Don’t you understand these are the reasons why I will walk into Munich, Germany and tear down the walls of each of my competitors. Yes I know it was in Berlin but Germany is Germany and I am the one meant to Survive and Conquer because God himself can’t defeat me or my army guns and…”

Arkia sighs completely taxed.

“You know what, I might just shoot those fuckers myself. Do they do security checks in Germany? A .38 might work. If you find yourself feeling some kind of way or personally attacked, congrats...you’re doing it wrong and I will be more than happy to show you how wrong you are come Jan 26th. Thanks for playing.”

Arkia says nothing more and just walks off screen.

[mdk]

Hobo: “Spare some change? Sir? Spare some change? Spare some change sir? Some change maybe?”

(We find ourselves outside a set of high street shops in London and we can see a homeless man slumped in a doorway holding out his hand as he repeats his lines over and over. Everybody who walks past him doesn’t even acknowledge his existence. The man has clearly hit rock bottom. An elderly gentleman walks past, glances at the hobo slumped in the doorway and crouches down to speak to him. As he gets closer, we can see a dog collar around his neck.)

Priest: “My son, hard times have befallen you. Allow me to help.”

Hobo: “Have you got some change sir?”

Priest: “No, I have an opportunity for you to better yourself. Come with me and I shall look after you.”

Hobo: “I think I’m too old for you buddy… And I won’t be sucking your cock…”

(The priest looks to the sky, mumbles a brief prayer to himself before looking down and smiling at the unfortunate creature.)

Priest: “My son, I have no carnal desire with you, I simply wish to help you back to your feet. Here… take my hand.”

(The priest stands up and extends his hand to the filthy individual who sighs, and slowly accepts it as the priest helps the man to his feet and gasps a little. As the hobo gets to his feet, he has a towering stature and stands over the priest with shoulders of immense breadth.)

Priest: “You… you are quite the behemoth aren’t you?”

(The priest places a hand on the back of the homeless man and pats him warmly as he leads him away. The camera fades away and we cut to an old-fashioned style living room. The priest enters the room with a tray laden with sandwiches and drinks and sets them down as the homeless man enters the room with fresh clothes on and his hair and body freshly washed. With the grime and grease removed from his face, he looks a few years younger and there is a familiar glint in his eye. The priest smiles at the homeless man as he walks in and gestures to the 1970s style floral sofa for the man to sit on. He sits down and the priest passes across the tray of sandwiches and the man snatches a couple up and gorges on them quickly.)

Priest: “When was the last time you had a decent meal?”

Hobo: “Three… maybe four days ago?”

Priest: “You unfortunate lamb… what is your name?”

Danny: “Danny…”

Priest: “Oh Daniel…”

Danny: “Danny…”

Priest: “Danny… what has led you to this dark place? What misfortune has befallen you? How have you fallen on such hard times?”

(Danny looks down as he finishes his sandwich, clasps his hands and twiddles his thumbs.)

Danny: “The business I was in, I was at the very top. Globally renowned, respected, adored… well not adored but I had everything I could have wanted; money, power and women… I took liberties of people’s good will, I manipulated, I bullied and I violated anyone and everyone who stood in my way. I had no limits, I had no boundaries and I had no control…”

Priest: “And that was your downfall? Your greed got the better of you?”

Danny: “Far from it… Boredom was. Boredom saw me get complacent, boredom saw me lose focus and boredom saw me walk away… Walk away from the power, the glamour and everything else that came with the territory. I walked away from it all and went native. I’ve left everything behind to live wild on the streets and after a while, people stopped looking, stopped wondering… stopped caring. Cast aside, I kept to this life for the past year. Gradually I became used to this and the opportunity to go back became increasingly difficult and left me like I am today…”

Priest: “Is there no way to go back?”

Danny: “My bridges have been burnt and the doors are closed. It’s too late for me now. I have nothing left…”

Priest: “Danny, no bridge is ever burnt beyond repair and no door is locked from you. There will always be a chance for a man to have a second chance at glory. You will get that chance and you will thrive again.”

Danny: “How? How can I possibly hope to do that…?”

Priest: “Use this moment as a start point. Then use the ideal of being where you once were. Then use your knowledge and your experience to make your way back to the top and remember your past mistakes to be where you were yet better than before!”

Danny: “Do you think I can do that?”

Priest: “Of course you can! For the past year, you have survived… now make 2014 the year that you conquer…”

Danny: “Maybe you are right… But how do I get there?”

Priest: “You need to head home, and take the next step. The first was taking the help I have offered you.”

(We cut away from this and segway to the front door of the priest’s house. Danny clutches a bag in his hands containing his belongings and has a coat placed on his shoulders by the priest.)

Danny: “Thank you so much for what you have done for me… It can’t be easy to take a stranger into your home… and you have done just that.”

Priest: “It is what my calling has helped me do… I hope you can pass on the help I have given to you.”

(The priest shakes Danny’s hand and they smile to each other. Danny checks his hand and finds money in there. He looks up at the priest.)

Priest: “Use that to take a taxi to wherever you need to go… Take this – and my blessing – and flourish.”

Danny: “How do you know I won’t spend it on drugs and drink?”

(The priest smiles at Danny.)

Priest: “We both know that you won’t.”

(Danny smiles back and walks down the street, turning once to wave at the priest. Danny places the bag over his shoulder and places the other hand in his pocket. He rounds the corner and walks onto a main high street of this city. He smiles to himself and he approaches the empty taxi rank. As he waits, he looks up at the billboard advertising APW’s Survive and Conquer Pay per View event in Germany. He smiles as he enters deep thought and a taxi pulls up beside him. He walks towards the awaiting vehicle and places his hand on the door but then is thrown out of the way by a grumpy looking man in a hooded jumper.)

?: “Out of the way fuck-knuckle…”

(The man climbs into the back of the taxi and we see the cautious eyes of the driver as he eyes him. The man sits forwards, pulls his hood back and sits up with a smirk on his face and reveals his face to be none other than M.D.K.!)

M.D.K.: “Heathrow pal… Terminal 5…”

(The cab starts to drive away as Danny gets to his feet and scrambles the money into his hands again. He starts to hurl abuse at the cab and M.D.K. smirks at the man and flips his middle finger at him before turning to face the front and looks directly at the camera.)

M.D.K.: “What, did you expect me to have fallen on hard times? You expected this to be some sort of riches to rags to riches story where you watch me rise to the top yet again? You want to have seen growth since the last time I stepped into a wrestling ring? You want to see how I have changed? See that life has been tough out of the public eye? Away from the week in, week out drudgery of professional wrestling? Well keep looking bitches because look at me. I’m still the toughest son of a bitch in this industry, still the most malicious mother-lover in the game and still the fast thinking, ego sinking, second blinking demi-god of professional wrestling and always will be…”

(M.D.K. relaxes into his seat a little more as he rests his arm on the back of the sea, crosses his legs and continues.)

M.D.K.: “You see, I threw you a bone back there with the hobo and the priest. I allowed you to believe that for some reason, I had fallen on hard times, that I had regret over my history or that somehow, some way I had followed the path of every other wrestling failure and fallen into a realm of poverty, drugs and even worse than that; obscurity. Victor Hades… Ryan Ruckus… Sally Talfourd… Level One… Remember them? The name might get a nod of nostalgia, might raise a smile as a memory is jogged but which of them is going to be there at the very end… the one time would you want them to be there, where are they?”

(He sits forwards and aggressively gestures to himself.)

M.D.K.: “I might have been gone, but I am far from forgotten. I am here, I will be there and I will be dominant once again. The mere mention of me has seen the fan-girls blush, the fan-boys gush and each and every one of the 79 peons, peasants and pissants that are taking part rush… to get clean underpants.”

(He offers a wry smirk to the camera for those that know of his usual repertoire.)

M.D.K.: “You can ask yourself why now? Why Survive and Conquer? Why in an event that I have been less than stellar in my performances? Why not the Extreme Tournament or an SCW pay per view or any other event? I ask you why the hell not? Survive and Conquer is an event in which I have been agonisingly close in the past when I came fifth in the first, I have been a warrior in the past when I survived well over thirty minutes but it is a prize I have yet to win, it is a space in my trophy cabinet I have yet to fill and I want it… I want that glory, I want that prize and I want that legacy and want to have yet another accolade that nobody else has.”

“Why wouldn’t anybody who was worth something want to be a part of this event? Why wouldn’t anybody want to be a part of history – not just of APW but of professional wrestling? That is why I look at the potential line up and see the likes of Paradox McSweeney, Legion, Jack Benevolence, Chris Shields, Arkia Fisk… Doug E Fresh…”

(The mention of the last name brings a glower across the face of M.D.K. He breathes heavily and pauses before continuing.)

M.D.K.: “I see the dignitaries in this match; faces of the past, the new hotshots greener than a lettuce with half the personality and the perennial also-rans and never-will-bes that turn up to every single event and underwhelm each and every time. I see them lining up to appear – each and every one of them – and see the expectancy in the eyes of the fans as they wait to see this historic moment. 79 superstars waiting for the chance to put themselves in position to emboss their name in the annals of APW history. 79 men and women waiting to become immortal. 79 mortals who should be preparing themselves for disappointment…”

(The taxi comes to a stop and M.D.K. looks out to see he’s arrived at his destination. He hands the driver some money and climbs out of the cab, grabbing his bag as he goes. He swings it onto his shoulder and wanders into the entrance before walking through the lobby and the camera follows.)

M.D.K.: “So what I suggest is you watch very carefully as I am about to rock the very core of APW and bring 79 peons, peasants and pissants to their knees…”

(He walks through the lobby and we are treated to a montage of airport related things. As with anything visual in a montage, we get a shot of a plane taking off and then of one coming into land. Why do they do that? I mean, we are all worldly wise, we know what an aeroplane is, we know that a journey from an airport is going to involve these things and yet we feel the need to show this. At least we haven’t got it in the generic private jet I guess. Do you think that every bastard in wrestling is able to charter private jets? M.D.K. has in the past but for the general travel of every day wrestling, private jets are unnecessary… Still, I am rambling and being the bracketed narration, you don’t want my waffle… Still M.D.K. has arrived in Germany and is strolling through the arrival lobby with a smirk on his face and is chewing gum cockily… God, I hate his walk. I haven’t missed his walk… or his smirk… but alas, he pays well. He steps out of the airport and holds out an arm for a taxi. As he waits, a homeless man shuffles up to him holding out his hand.)

Hobo: “Bitte ersparen Sie etwas Geld?”
[Spare some change?]

(M.D.K. pauses, glares at him as the taxi pulls up.)

M.D.K.: “Geh und fick dich.”
[Go fuck yourself.]

(He climbs into the taxi and the hobo stands there with his mouth agape as he closes the taxi door.)

M.D.K.: “Allianz Arena bitte…”
[Allianz Arena please]

(The taxi drives off and we cut to the imposing Allianz Arena where M.D.K. saunters up to the main entrance and he glances at the signage casually before strolling into the building looking around as he does and taking in the atmosphere. A suited gentleman smiles at M.D.K.)

Suit: “Entschuldigen Sie mich. Die Arena ist noch nicht fertig. Kann ich helfen sie?”
[Excuse me. The arena is not ready yet. Can I help you?]

M.D.K.: “Wissen Sie, wer ich bin?”
[Do you know who I am?]

Suit: “Ja, naturlich.”
[Of course.]

M.D.K.: “Sprechen sie Englisch?”
[Do you speak English?]

Suit: “Ein bischen.”


M.D.K.: “Then get the fuck out of my way if you know what’s good for you.”

(M.D.K. brushes the man out of the way and goes to walk on but the man in the suit grabs the arm of M.D.K. who quickly spins on the spot, grabs the man by the throat and drives him into the wall.)

?: “Boys, boys, boys… will you calm down.”

(Both men turn to see long-time friend of M.D.K. and former manager ‘Fast Car’ Eddie Simmons suited up and looking like a – slightly chubby – million dollars. M.D.K. smiles but still doesn’t relinquish his grip.)

Eddie: “Hans, as welcome as it will be, stop putting your throat in the way of Mr Tenegra’s hand.”

(Hans looks at M.D.K. who glares at him before releasing his hold on the German, turning to Eddie and the two embrace. We cut to an office in the arena where Eddie pours M.D.K. a large whiskey.)

M.D.K.: “What the hell are you doing here?”

Eddie: “Business administrator for the insurance company looking after this event so the fewer of the APW and arena staff you hurt, the easier my job is. Understand?”

M.D.K.: “Of course!”

Eddie: “What are you doing here man? I thought you had given the game up!”

M.D.K.: “Never given up, never dead… just resting my eyes. Besides, an event like this is not one to pass up.”

Eddie: “Do you know, the moment I saw the poster go up, saw the advertising and I just knew that you would be here… I knew that you couldn’t resist the chance to be an asshole all over again.”

(M.D.K. smiles as he takes a drink.)

M.D.K.: “You know, I nearly didn’t come.”

Eddie: “For real?”

M.D.K.: “It’s true. I’ve enjoyed the retired life. Waking when I want, travelling where I want…”

(He pauses for a moment before collapsing into a heap on the desk.)

M.D.K.: “It’s been soul destroying! I have been so bored! Do you know, I actually kept a telesales rep on the phone for forty-five minutes the other day. He was begging me to hang up! I need this!”

Eddie: “You alright man?”

M.D.K.: “I don’t know! I just don’t know anymore! I’m here and I can’t wait to get back in that ring. I can’t wait to get into that ring and prove my point!”

Eddie: “Why don’t you go back? There isn’t a company that wouldn’t take you on in a heartbeat!”

M.D.K.: “Because there isn’t anything left to do for me… Tell me Eddie, what does a man do who has done it all?”

Eddie: “That’s easy… You do it all again.”

M.D.K.: “When did you become a little black Yoda?”

Eddie: “When you wake up surrounded by six unconscious prostitutes, itchy genitals, half a kilo of cocaine and a bloodied katana you gain a little clarity.”

(M.D.K. looks at Eddie with an astounded look. Eddie smiles and finishes his drink.)

Eddie: “What you need to do, is evolve. Others have done so, others have never given up. You don’t need to.”

M.D.K.: “Others haven’t achieved what I have achieved. Others haven’t been admitted into multiple halls of fame.”

Eddie: “And don’t you think you can use that to your advantage? Don’t you think that the big target on your back and the urge to survive isn’t enough incentive enough to keep going?”

M.D.K.: “Maybe you’re right…”

Eddie: “I know I am! People will want to take you out just based of your name alone. You are the one people want to take out.”

M.D.K.: “You do realise that I have all the incentive for this I need?”

(Eddie slips a piece of paper across the table to M.D.K.)

Eddie: “How about a little more?”

(M.D.K. reads through and it lists the plan for Survive and Conquer including the divide of the groups for the four separate rumbles. A smile creeps across his face.)

M.D.K.: “This is legit? A genuine list?”

Eddie: “You know it.”

(M.D.K. points at a name on the list.)

M.D.K.: “And him…? My group.”

(Eddie nods and M.D.K. grins broadly as he stands up and extends a hand to Eddie as he waves the piece of paper.)

M.D.K.: “This… this is all I need.”

(We cut to the ring of the Allianz Arena. It is still being set up but the ring itself is fully erect and ready for action… Cross-legged in the centre of the ring with the paper laid out in front of him sits M.D.K. with his head bowed.)

M.D.K.: “Eighty men, divided into four groups of twenty. Each group determined to prove their worth in the final ever Survive and Conquer on APW programming. They come from all over. From every federation in every corner of the world they have come to leave a mark on this company and the wrestling world. Of those eighty men there are champions, chumps and glorifies chimps in trunks. Every one of the eighty men has a chance at the glory but only one of them… is me.”

(He stands up and circles the paper.)

M.D.K.: “One more chance at this, one more opportunity to go down as undoubtedly the greatest wrestler of this or any generation. One man and one man alone can win and that man consists of three simple letters… M… D… K…”

“When the likes of Jack Benevolence step out here for Survive and Conquer, they believe they can win this beyond a shadow of a doubt. But the likes of Jack are known to me. I know what makes them tick, I know how to crush them, I know exactly how to win when all eyes are on me.”

“The best part of this is that there are no eyes on me. My name and my name alone has proven to be a ratings spike while the names of Fisk, Benevolence, Starr and Fresh are the bookies favourite to be standing tall at the bitter end. People remember my name but forget exactly what I can do. They forget I bought TFWF to its knees, they forget that I took SCW to the stratosphere it lives in now, they forget that I was the most valuable player of every major event in wrestling history. I rocked each and every Extreme Tournament I graced, I shocked the world at On Hallowed Ground and in Survive and Conquer, I outshone and outclassed people from your very own company.”

“I have been a dominant athlete in this sport for the best part of a decade. The top of my game, the elite of the elite of the god damned elite. I have spent a year away, the WD-40 has been applied to the rusty joints, the body is still sculpted, the ability is still here and the wrestling mind which took me to the top never left me. I walk into Survive and Conquer a fearless, peerless demi-god. If you know what’s good for you, you will stand aside or by my side… To those I know, you have a chance to align yourself with me, to make the right result happen at Survive and Conquer. To those who don’t know me, you have a chance to witness an icon making history. So hop over the top rope, take to the front row and witness history in the making as I render 79 peons, peasants and pissants truly and utterly… inferior!”

(He stamps down on the paper and twists his foot down upon it. As he does, the spotlight over the ring goes out and M.D.K. is left in shadow. We witness his silhouette leave the ring and his footsteps echo throughout the arena as the camera fades out.)

[blameskyler]

08/04/2013 – Code Red Wrestling Proving Grounds

Standing behind the curtain, she can hear them. The people who fill the stands, weekend warriors, dreamers, desk jockeys, pencil pushers and number crunchers. Who spend their hard earned money for this, the opportunity to forget, just for a few hours, all the worries, all the fears. They won't be worrying about making rent, or paying the power bill, or Little Suzy's next semester of tuition. For a couple of shining hours the world will be condensed to this. A battleground. An arena, where giants dance and legends wage war on one another and somehow, someway she's found herself among them. She hasn't been able to eat, her stomach won't let her, tied up in knots and filled with terrible 'what ifs' that flutter on thick moth wings. Maybe she's not ready. Maybe she should have waited. Maybe...maybe she shouldn't be here. As soon as the thought enters her head she squashes it, viciously. It's a lie. The doubts are all lies. This is where she belongs. This is exactly where she's supposed to be. This is what she's worked for, her entire life. All the sacrifices, all the training, for this. For the opportunity. And by God, she's not going to waste it.


01/15/2014 – Paradise Nevada

She'd made good on her threats to convert part of the huge house that had been a Christmas present from her fiance into a home gym, which...turned out to be a damned good thing, since she'd walked into two and been sent right back out the door. They didn't want the liability, apparently. But honestly, the implication that just because she's a “little bruised” she needs to be coddled had really just pissed her off. Then again, it doesn't really take much to set her off in a fit of temper. And what she calls a 'little bruised' would have most people curled up in a fetal position popping pain killers and muscle relaxers like they were made of candy. Her torso is mottled, some bruises still dark, that ugly purpled bruise that screams that there's still a great deal of blood pooled under the surface of the skin, others faded to an even uglier yellowed brown that suggests that they're at least beginning to heal now. A lesser person might have been ready to throw in the towel. Someone with less passion for what they do maybe...but that isn't Faith, and it never will be. She gave herself a couple of days, after each of her grueling matches, two days to be exact. To find her bearings, recover a little, stop coughing up blood in one instance, and then it was back with her nose to the grindstone. Her mind wanders, drifting back to that first match, which seems an eternity ago even though it's only been five months. Five months Jesus. Is that all it's been? She was so nervous, so scared, terrified that she was going to screw up. She was going to disappoint everyone. But when the moment came, and the music hit there was this moment of clarity, a moment when she realized that what happened after she set her feet inside the ring, didn't really matter. Because at the very least, she could look back, and say that she dared. She dared, with the majority of the world telling her 'you can't. She dared. It's something that she's tried to remember going into every match. The end game doesn't matter. It's about the moment. It's about seizing the opportunity. Five months. Sixteen matches. Eleven victories. One Championship...not a bad start for a seventeen year old girl that three quarters of the world has been falling all over itself to tell how much she absolutely, positively does not belong.

And now she's prepping for match number seventeen. A match unlike anything she's ever dreamed of undertaking. A match that could easily turn into three if she's very, very lucky. Battle royale. Street Fight. Hell in a Cell Ladder match. Two of those are new to her, but that doesn't necessarily mean anything. War Games was new to her as well, and her team still left the victors. But the magnitude of this...Queen of Sin was an over the top rope battle royale too. With more participants than any one of the four groupings for Survive and Conquer, twenty-seven to the twenty. But there's more at stake here. This is the last. The last chance that anyone has to make themselves a conqueror, the last chance that anyone has to earn bragging rights that too few can claim. That makes this more than just a learning experience. She needs it. She wants it. So badly it leaves a dull, throbbing ache somewhere deep in her chest. Because if she can do this. If she can overcome all the odds, if she can emerge at the top of a mountain built on the crushed hopes of seventy-nine other people, then no one can ever tell her that she doesn't belong again. No one can throw a number in her face like it means something. They can't mock her for her youth, deny her passion or her ability. It's not about the bragging rights. It's not about the money. It's not about the trophy. It's about one simple thing. Validation..

Sweat beads across her skin, plastering blonde hair to the sides of her face and the back of her neck. There's a barely perceptible tremble that runs through her limbs, muscles that scream for reprieve, but she won't stop. She can't. Again and again flesh snaps against the heavy leather of the bag suspended from the ceiling, making its chains jingle softly from the force. Every breath feels like a screaming agony, still healing ribs shrieking from the forced movement. But it's a pain she ignores, because she has to. She can't afford to give into it, not now, not ever. There's too much at stake, too much that stands to be gained or lost. Again, and again her fists drive home, refusing to let herself be slowed down by something as frivolous as pain...until there's a soft, half amused voice from the doorway behind her.

“Is it the punching bag you're hitting, or something else?”

“Every person who has ever told me that I'm a joke. Every person who's ever told me that I'll fail. And every person who has ever told me that I don't belong.”

“That, seems to be a very long list.”

“Yeah...I guess. What are you doing here Mom?”

“There was a time when my little girl would have come to me herself, when she was getting ready for a match of this large of a magnitude.”

Faith sighs, heavily, shaking her head as she finally allows herself to stop, stepping back, breathing heavily as she turns to face the dark haired woman standing in the doorway.

“You would have told me no. You would have told me that I need to heal, that I shouldn't be doing this...and I don't need to hear that right now. I don't have any choice in the matter. But you won't see that.”

“Won't I? I think you forget sometimes that I walked this road a long time before you did. I understand, I do. I just...I worry that you might be pushing too hard, too fast. But then I look at everything that you've accomplished, already, and I realize that you have more potential than anyone understands. You're seventeen, you've only been competing professionally for five months. You're a champion, you were invited to join STS, which is, from what I understand, fairly exclusive. You have more passion, more talent, and more potential than any of the people who tell you that you don't belong. They do it, out of fear. They're afraid of what it means if you succeed...and they're right to be. You represent the future sweetheart, and I think it's a future that we can all be proud of.”

She's her mother of course, and it's her job to say things like this, to reassure her when she begins to doubt too much, she knows this...and yet, it does help. A small smile tugs at the girls lips as she reaches for a towel to mop her face.

“Alright. So, tell me Oh Experienced One. Any advice?”

“Don't get thrown out over the top rope.”

“Ha ha. Very funny...but seriously Mom.”

The older woman sighs shaking her head slightly.

“It's simple Faith. They aren't going to be paying attention to you. No one is. Their eyes are going to be on the Gordon Furys, the Jack Benevolences, the Rex Evans', the Aurora Jansens, the Rowyn Starrs, the Arkia Fisks, the M.D.Ks, the Diegos.”

No matter how much truth there might be in the words, they still sting. Faith sighs, lowering her gaze as if she finds a spot on the floor terribly interesting. Until her mother reaches out to hook fingers under the girl's chin and raise her gaze once more.

“Make them remember. Win or lose, you walk out of that match knowing that they will never forget the name Faith Skyler”


01/19/2014

“I am in so far over over my head I can't even see the surface anymore.”

It's the closest that she'll ever come to admitting that she might be in too deep, that she might be drowning. But oddly enough, there's not even the faintest hint of of despair in her voice as she speaks, but rather a sense of confidence.

“But there is no better way to learn to swim.”

And there it is, the slightest of little smiles, just a faint tug at the corners of her mouth as a hand lifts to push blonde hair out of her face.

“But seriously? I know I'm in too deep. I knew it the second I put my name on the dotted line. I knew it the moment that I decided that this was something that I was going to do. I watched last year you see, from my mother's living room floor. So I knew the magnitude of the match, before I ever signed up, and I knew, that I was jumping in head first. So why did I do it? Well now that's simple. Survive and Conquer is about overcoming the odds. It's about proving that stats scrawled on a piece of paper don't mean anything. It's about the challenge. It's about throwing dozens of competitors from all sorts of philosophies, mentalities, styles, and every walk of life imaginable in the same place, at the same time, and seeing what happens. Can you think of a greater learning experience? But it's more than that. This, is my only chance. And it's a lot of people's last one. The final Survive and Conquer. The last chance that anyone has to cement their name in history, to make sure that in some way, shape, or form, that they are never forgotten. That even if they accomplish nothing else, there will always be this...now that's a scary thought. No, it's actually a downright terrifying thought. There are eighty of us. Heroes, villains, monsters, legends, giants...and underdogs. Eighty men and women who all want the same thing with every fiber of their being, all striving to prove that they are the best. And it's worse right? For me. Because a lot of these people I know. A lot of these people I consider to be my friends. A lot of them I just simply respect. That...that makes this harder than if I were facing a bunch of people I didn't know, and had never heard of. Because I know what they're capable of. And I know, that if I want to win, which I do, I'm going to have to fight, claw, stomp, and crawl over their dreams. I'm going to have to stop them dead in their tracks. Which is something that I know no one really expects me to be able to do. I can't blame them for doubting me. Not really. I mean on paper I know it has to look ridiculous. Here I am, a seventeen year old girl, five foot two, a hundred and forty pounds. I've been through hell the first half of this month. I'm bruised, I'm battered, I'm tired, and even breathing hurts. And yet...well...

Okita Soji was only twelve years old and was defeating kenjutsu teachers at rival schools. At eighteen he was labeled a master of his style and became a founding member of the Shinsengumi. Today, he's revered as one of only thirteen Kensei, and is considered to be one of the greatest swordsmen in Japanese history. Augustus Octavian Ceaser was only eighteen when he led a force of veteran troops into Rome, to drive out the assassins of Julius Ceaser. He was named to the Senate at nineteen and after defeating Mark Antony had sole command of eight Roman legions. He would go on to become the first emperor of the Roman Empire. St. Joan of Arc was only sixteen years old when King Charles VII granted her request to travel with the French army and dress as a knight. At seventeen she led the charge on Les Tourelles herself, suffered an arrow wound to the throat, and still returned to lead the final charge, and is still regarded as the heroine of that battle to this day. After which, she was given Co-Command of the French army, a girl, at only seventeen. At sixteen years of age Alexander the Great ruled as regent in his father's place, and led a small force against revolting Thracian Maedi. At seventeen he was given command of a small army and sent to put down revolts in Thrace.

I suppose, what I'm saying, is that age is not always an indication of skill, or of ability. Alexander the Great is regarded today as the greatest military commander of all time. No one will ever forget the name of Joan of Arc, or her story. Or Augustus Ceaser, or Okita Soji. They were mere children in the eyes of many, scorned and underestimated but they would not be stopped...and neither will I. Like Okita Soji who began his swordsmanship training at age nine, I have been preparing for this my entire life. Which is something that no one seems to take into consideration. So while I know what the “stats” on paper say, and I know how things must look...at the same time, I know exactly what I'm capable of I have, just as much of a chance to win this, as anyone else. Maybe just a smidge more really, because the rest of you are going to over look me. You aren't going to see me as a threat, because I'm not “intimidating”. I don't have the reputation of Dough E Fresh or M.D.K. I don't have the prestige of Aurora Jansen or Rowyn Starr or Arkia Fisk, my career's too new for that. So you're going to look at me...and then right past me. Which is when I'm going to come out of nowhere and kick your ass right out of the ring.”

The smile that tugs at her lips now is almost mischievous.

“Because this means too much to me. It's not about the bragging rights, although hey, those are huge right? It's not about the money...although a million bucks would be a nice chunk of change to put towards my friend Ally's medical bills. It's not about the trophy...but it would look damned nice over the fireplace. This is about me, proving, once and for all, to every person who has ever doubted me, to every person who has ever told me that I'll never make it...that they're wrong. I might be smaller, I might be younger, but I am, by God, a force to be reckoned with. I've busted my ass to get here. I've bled. I've hurt. There are days I've woken up questioning what in the hell is wrong with me that I keep doing this to myself by choice. And then the music hits, and I'm down the ramp and in the ring and nothing else matters. But it gets old. It gets really old, being told that I'll never climb to the top of the mountain, that I can't reach it, not because I'm not talented, not because I'm not good enough, but because I have a pair of tits and that makes me not good enough. Dude. Arkia Fisk has been a World Champ, and she's got tits bigger than my head doesn't that seem like a stupid argument? “You won't succeed because you're a girl”. It's infuriating! It's...totally off topic from where I was going.

Before I go absolutely any further, I do want to take a moment to point something out. Dexter, Arkia, Rowyn, there are five of us in this match. Five out of twenty, and the way I see it, that increases each of our opportunities by a quarter...because Aurora's right. The best thing for all of us, is to stand together, because I can guarantee that everyone else is looking at the list for this grouping, and already plotting to divide and conquer us. Whether we choose to stand together or not, they're going to assume that we will, and they are going to work together to make sure that one by one we go out over that rope, then they'll turn on each other like a pack of jackals. Who knows what we're each capable of better than ourselves? We see each other every week, we've waged war against each other. But this match isn't just about the individual, it's about representing your company. I remember talk last year, about how, for a time, Code Red Wrestling had the top four finishers from Survive and Conquer signed to their roster. It was a big deal, it brought a lot of prestige and a lot of attention to the company. As representatives for Phoenix Wrestling, we should be doing everything in our power to make sure that prestige comes home to Phoenix with us. No matter whose name is attached to it. So, think about guys. Aurora, I've got your back...at least until the last Non-Phoenix competitor goes out over that rope. Then all bets are off.

Now...where was I? Oh right. Look, I'm not going to sit here and bore you with everything that I've accomplished so far, because there's no point to it. It won't matter, it'll just be words in the wind and that's all it'll amount to. Until after. Because I am the unknown, and while that means that there aren't a lot of people giving me much of a chance in this thing...I know the truth. The unknown is the most dangerous person in a match. Because you never know what to expect from them. You never know what trick they might pull out of their sleeves. You don't know what they're capable of, if they're vicious, cruel, kind, or honorable. So by all means ladies and gentlemen, you go ahead and you put your focus on those big names. You worry about the M.D.Ks, the Jansens, the Fisks, the Starrs, the Dougs, the Jacks, the Gordons, the Diegos and the Rexs. And while you're worried about them? Us underdogs are going to come up from behind and kick you square in the teeth. Because me? Personally? I'm done being sold short. I'm done being looked down on. I'm done being a foot note. I don't care who I have to march through. I don't care whose dreams I have to grind to dust beneath my boot heel. I don't just want this, I need it. I crave it, with everything that I am.

There has never been a female victor of Survive and Conquer. I mean to change that.”



Word Count: 3346 With Coding

[Shiloh Chapman]

Date: Thursday, January 16th, 2014



I had just flown back home from Insurgency’s last show, which was held in Milwaukee, Wisconsin. I decided to relax and unwind in my, personal, favorite - with my girlfriend, Marty. She and I were cuddled up on the couch, watching a movie. I always loved these times. Especially the times when she doesn’t come to me for shows, and I’m gone for several days.



Shiloh Chapman: …. I’m not gonna lie… This movie kinda sucks. Then again it is on the SyFy Channel…



Marty Townson: I usually like SyFy though.



Shiloh Chapman: I usually like their terrible movies because they give me the lolz but this one… This one is brutal.



Marty Townson: Yeah. I guess it doesn’t seem very scientifically correct does it? I mean movies are supposed to have believable bullshit and the bullshit they are giving us in this movie? is just bullshit.



I chuckled a bit.



Shiloh Chapman: Excellent assessment Miss Townson. They need to pay you to write movie reviews.



Marty Townson: Yes. Yes they do. But I would be too blunt about everything. ‘SO HOW DID YOU LIKE THE MOVIE!!!’…. ‘It was… SHIT.’ ‘CAN YOU ELABORATE!?’.... ‘Can you really elaborate on shit?’



I lost it with that one, laughing pretty hard now. After I settle down, I let out a sigh.



Shiloh Chapman: For what it’s worth, I would totally read all of those reviews. They sound awesome.



Marty Townson: Short, sweet, to the point. I say they would be an easy read.



Shiloh Chapman: Beats the hell out of those long winded reviews, with people trying to sound all sophisticated and stuck up.



Marty Townson: Hmm? You lost me. I dozed off.



Shiloh Chapman: Exactly my point… Hey, anyways, I got a surprise for you.



Marty Townson:..... Is it a teddy bears?



Shiloh Chapman: … It’s not… Do you want a teddy bear?



Marty Townson: Cliché.



Shiloh Chapman: Actually, I have the up-coming week off. And… I dunno, I figured maybe it’d be good if we got away for a while and had some fun… So I booked us a little vacation to San Diego.



Marty Townson: Just shut up.



Shiloh Chapman: For realz.



Marty Townson: THEY HAVE A LEFT HAND STORE!!!!!!!!!! That is right up my alley. Everything for leftys.



I smiled, seeing how excited she was about it.



Shiloh Chapman: We’ll have plenty of time to go to the left handed store and any other places you want to go. I booked us for 4 days. We leave tomorrow, come back on Tuesday. I also figure it’ll be good just to have some alone time for a few days, since I have to leave for Germany, for a couple of days, at the end of the month.



Marty Townson: Awe. Ok.



Shiloh Chapman: I didn’t realize at the time when I signed up for this Suvive & Conquer event, that it was going to be way over in Germany… But I guess it’ll be a good experience to have, as a wrestler, to wrestle somewhere other than the states or Canada. I is gonna miss you though.



Marty Townson: You can stuff mes in your bag.



Shiloh Chapman: I would like to. Unfortunately I only have one ticket. This is a big month, I can feel it.



Marty Townson: SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO, speaking of which. How was Vance man? You know the bro man. The secret bro man that happens to be the secret that he is in fact your bro…. and a man.



Shiloh Chapman: He was cool. He’s…. Huge. Like… Really huge. Dude’s about 6’5 and probably around 285 pounds. All tattooed up and stuff too. But he seemed like he was a good guy.



Marty Townson: A true david and goliath story. Did you hit him in the head with a stone Shi Shi? …. Oops. You said cool. MY MAD!



Shiloh Chapman: I wouldn’t believe we were related if he didn’t have all the proof… And even if he wasn’t cool, no way I would have hit him in the head with a stone. Dude would probably crumple me up in his fist like a piece of paper.



Marty Townson: But you have wrestling experience. He may have the mass? Assuming he was as big as you say. You could outsmart him and roll him up and spin him around drop him on his head and all that good stuff.



Shiloh Chapman: I suppose so…. Anywho, I should probably start getting my stuff packed. Our flight is at 8 tomorrow morning.



Marty Townson: WHAT THE FUCK SHY!? Don’t give me any type of preparation time or nothing.



Shiloh Chapman: That’s what makes it a surprise!... Besides, I’ll help you pack when you’re ready. It won’t take me long, I don’t need much.



Marty Townson: Guess we should start NOW!



Shiloh Chapman: Then now we shall start! I’ll give you a ride to your house…



I jumped up off the couch. Feeling sorta bad that I sprung this on her last second, I decided to throw something in.



Shiloh Chapman:... I’ll even make it your favorite… A Shy-Shy piggyback ride…



Marty Townson: Pleased Marty is pleased.



I smiled.



Shiloh Chapman: A pleased Marty makes a pleased Shiloh.



I turned around so that my back was to her.



Shiloh Chapman: All aboard the Shy-Train. There’s only room for one, so first come, first serve!



She stood up on the couch and jumped onto my back.



Marty Townson: GET ALONG LITTLE DOGGY!



I laughed, walking out of the room with her on my back. It was like a 10 minute walk to her house, from here, but that’s okay. I knew she liked it when I did this and that’s all that mattered to me. I walked out of the front door, turning around so that she could close it behind us, and started the trek to her house.

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

Date: Saturday, January 25th, 2014



I sat in a chair, in my hotel room in Germany. I had it facing out the window, which gave me a pretty good view of the area since it was up several floors. It was strangely calming looking out onto a place I was so unfamiliar with. But I needed calming. My stomach was in knots.



Shiloh Chapman: It’s weird man… I grew up in a small town in Indiana. Never left the state until I was 19, when I went to LA to meet with Insurgency officials about my contract. Ever since then, I’ve been all over the United States and even went to Canada. For an average kid like me, that’s pretty amazing you know? Like, one day, I’m just a regular guy, playing basketball with his buddies, eating dinner with his parents, all that stuff. And now…



I look around at the town in front of me. I pressed my lips together, thinking about it all, taking everything in.



Shiloh Chapman: Now I’m sitting in a hotel room in Germany. Freakin’ Germany, man! In a matter of months, I went from being like every other 19 year old, to traveling all the way to Germany for this APW show. It doesn’t even feel real. Even though I’m physically here, I still can’t believe that I’m in Germany.



When I became a wrestler, my goal was to make it out of Indiana and to travel a little around the mid-west. Maybe even get lucky enough to, one day, hit the East and West Coast. I thought it would be cool to one day, wrestle in front of more than a couple hundred people. I would have been content if I didn’t because I love wrestling that much.



Here I am now… Traveling to different countries and wrestling in front of thousands of people. Only in my wildest dreams did I ever picture this. I’m signing autographs, taking pictures, doing media interviews, having websites dedicated to me, getting fan mail, everything. And all of that… It’s just… Overwhelming but at the same time, it’s amazing to me. These people see me as something larger than life. But I think of me as… Just me. Shiloh Chapman. The same guy I’ve always been, except now certain aspects of my life are played out on television. I don’t know, it’s just hard to believe that I’ve come as far as I have.



I stopped for a moment, thinking about all of that. It really was incredible to think about.



Shiloh Chapman: Making it into Insurgency Wrestling Federation has really opened my eyes to a lot of things. I’ve gotten to go places I’d probably never gotten the chance to go to. I’ve met people I’d never have met, otherwise. I’ve gotten chances and opportunities that I never would have had, because I was offered a contract with them and I took a leap of faith by signing with them.



I was scared at first. I mean, like I said, I was 19 when I signed. This is a big time wrestling promotion, known all over the globe. Some of the top competitors call it home. And here I was… Little Shiloh Chapman… Wrestling in small Indiana promotions, just trying to live out a boy hood dream. But I swallowed my fear… I signed that contract… I pursued my dream and I continue to do so today. All of those things bring me to my reasoning for signing up for APW’s “Survive & Conquer” event.



I leaned forward a bit, placing my elbows on my knees, still keeping my face forward and looking out the window.



Shiloh Chapman: I realized that, no matter how daunting something seems, if you know you have a huge opportunity, you need to take it. And that’s what “Survive & Conquer” is. A huge opportunity to advance my career. Not only that but it’s a learning experience and an experience that I won’t get to have again, since this is APW’s final show.



I firmly believe that, as a growing wrestler, you need to take every opportunity and ever learning experience that you can. Not only to better your career but to better yourself as a person and as a competitor. Especially ones that will push you beyond your limits and ones that will take you out of your comfort zone.



Insurgency is my comfort zone. I know the people. I know what they’re all about. I know, each match that I have, what I’m going to be up against. And while I know there are plenty of people on the roster better than I am, it’s still my comfort zone. It’s my home. It’s what I know. “Survive & Conquer” on the other hand…



I took a deep breath and let the air out.



Shiloh Chapman: It’s a whole new territory. Sure there may be a couple of familiar faces in there but 98% of these people, I’ve never encountered before. I know of a lot of them. And I know that most of them are highly accomplished competitors. Ones that have been around for years and have accomplished huge things. A lot of them are people I respect and admire, as a fellow competitor. And that’s why I’m looking forward to this so much.



I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t nervous. I am. I’m wrestling against new people, in front of new fans, for another company, in a country that I’ve never been in before. I just turned 20 years old last month and that makes me, probably, one of the youngest competitors in the entire thing. Not to mention, I’m probably one of the most inexperienced ones as well. I’ve never been in a match like this, before. I’ve never been involved in something, so unique.



I’m clearly one of the true underdogs of this match… And that’s completely find. That’s basically been the theme of my life. I’ve always been too short… Too skinny… Not serious enough… Not experienced enough… Less talented… It’s always been something. And that’s okay. Really. I’m not one of those people who take that kind of criticism and get bitter about it. It doesn’t make me mad or anything like that. I use it as motivation.. But in a positive way.



See, the way I see it… If people doubt you, you’ve given them a reason to doubt you. Not in a bad way… In a good way. How? Because most people that doubt others, need to find reasons to make themselves feel better. If people aren’t doubting you, then you’re doing something wrong. In my opinion at least. So, I like to think that if I’ve got doubters, I’m doing the right thing. I’m sure others will think that’s stupid or not the right way to go about things but hey, to each their own right? There’s 79 other men and women. All of them are going to have their own ways to motivate themselves to do well. That’s my motivation.



So for every Gordon Fury… For ever Aurora Jansen… For every Dom Harter… For every Doug E. Fresh, Madman Szalinski, Mr. Rottentreats, Arkia Fisk and Brytain Montgomery-Rollins… For every man or woman that is considered a heavy favorite to walk out as the winner of this thing…. There’s just as many Shiloh Chapman’s. There’s just as many people that no one is giving a chance, that no one is looking at as a legitimate contender for this thing, like me. And one thing I do know about these past events, is that there’s always someone that sneaks up on people. Someone that comes out of nowhere and surprises the world with their showing. Will that be me, this year? I hope so. But I won’t say it will be. Because there’s plenty of other candidates in this thing that could come out of nowhere and prove to the world that, despite the doubts, they deserved to be in this thing. That even though they haven’t made the name or accomplished as much as a lot of these people… They have what it takes to one day, potentially, be considered to be good enough to be listed in that company of competitors. Can I do that, with my showing at “Survive & Conquer”? I don’t know. But I’m definitely going to try my hardest.



I sat back in my chair, feeling pretty good after getting that off of my chest. This was one of the biggest moments of my career… Of my life… And I needed to be ready. I needed to have my head on straight and have a clear mind. Two things were going to happen in this match, for me: Once this was all said and done, either I was going to be in the minority of the remembered or I was going to be in the majority of the forgotten. And I really didn’t want to be in the forgotten. I needed to be on top of my game here and fight like I never have before. While I was nervous, I felt I was ready. But I would only know for sure, in about 24 hours…

[dexterjacobs]

Detroit, Michigan
January 15th, 2014
2:52 A.M.

He was a failure.

That was the thought that kept roiling through Dexter Jacobs’ mind as he laid awake. It didn’t matter how he tried to push the thought aside, how he’d tried to distract himself, it was always there, turning over and over in his mind, mocking him. Wicked had done her best to keep him occupied since he’d arrived back in the Motor City, but even his infatuation with her couldn’t keep his brain from going back to that night in Charlotte…And his failure.

Dex sighed, sitting up, being careful not to agitate the tattooed woman sleeping peacefully next to him. He’d considered waking her, but only for a moment. She was exhausted, and had enough on her mind as it was. This was a cross he’d have to bear himself. He reclined back, letting his head rest against the poorly stucco’d wall as he reached to the nightstand, feeling around until his fingers found purchase on the bottle he’d left there, taking a swig and giving it a swallow as he grimaced. The beer was long since warm, and hadn’t been that great to begin with, but it was going to have to do for the moment. Dex narrowed his eyes, swishing the remaining liquid around in the bottle as the thought began to run through his head yet again. He’d been right there, right on the cusp…so close he could taste it. His first Championship reign in a real company, the first real step toward reclaiming his life…and putting Stefan Raab out of his misery, all in one fell swoop. He’d been right there, ready to put it all to rest…And of course, that was when everything had gone awry.

“Same as it always was, I reckon.” The words slipped past Dex’s lips as little more than a whisper, still being careful not to wake the sleeping woman curled up beside him. It was true, though. After everything he’d done, after how long he’d spent trying to set the old Dexter Jacobs aside, it had reared its ugly head again at the exact wrong moment. He’d had Raab dead to rights, ripe for the picking, any other cliché a man could think of…But he’d looked at that face, stared right into those beady, pig eyes, and something inside him had just…snapped. It was a feeling Dex had known all to well before. He’d thought he’d put it aside. That it was a thing of the past…That he was in control. But he was wrong. Dead wrong. As soon as he’d caught Raab staring back at him, everything else had gone out the window. All that was in his head was the way he’d been slighted by the man. The way he’d attacked him from behind like a coward. The way he’d tried to spit on him, slander him…the way he carried him as a complete and utter fucking disgrace both in and out of the ring. All of that anger that he’d been hanging onto since Redemption 68 finally found its target, and boiled over.

Dex barely remembered what had happened after that. All he’d felt was fists slamming into flesh, the warm spatter of blood across his knuckles…Hell, he’d made it all the way backstage with one of the man’s teeth buried in his knuckle before the trainers had caught it. There was no ring, no roaring crowd, no referee…All he saw was red. There was no match left to win, no other objective. The only thing Dex had his eyes set on was giving Stefan Raab EXACTLY what he deserved…And in turn, the next thing he’d felt was his eyes rolling back as he went crashing to the mat.

Dex shook his head, sneering at himself as he took another swig. Stupid. So damn stupid. He’d promised himself he wouldn’t let it happen again. Worked so hard to push those feelings down, to make himself…better. And in one moment, one single moment of hubris, he’d thrown it all away.

And in doing so, he gave Faith Skyler exactly the opening she needed.

He couldn’t begrudge the girl that. Given the same opportunity, Dex would have done the exact same thing. She’d seen her moment, seized it, and won it cleanly, fair and square. If he could have been a half second faster, things might have been different, but “ifs” should never have even come into it. He never should have been on his back to begin with. He should have dealt with Raab, spiked him on his head, taken him out of the equation, and given his full and undivided attention…but he hadn’t.

He’d fucked up, and he’d failed.

The fact Dex’s shoulders hadn’t been pinned to the mat did little to quell the sour taste in his mouth. The announcement of his one-on-one match with Faith at Redemption 70 had been welcome, sure, but even with that, the thought still coiled around his brain like a python, squeezing tight and refusing to let go.

And now, here he was…mere days away from Survive & Conquer.

Dex couldn’t help but roll his eyes as he took another swig. His timing, as usual, couldn’t have been more perfect. After everything he’d gone through to get to this point, in a single night he’d almost managed to piss it all away…right on the cusp of the biggest event of his career. He would have told himself it was unbelievable…But Dex had seen this movie before. In a starring role, no less.

He sat there, staring into the silence for a long time. He’d failed. Plain and simple. He’d reached for his opportunity, tried to grab the brass ring, and he’d come up short. His last chance had been dealt its first blow…

But Dexter Jacobs was still standing.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. He’d expected the end to come at any moment. After everything, he was constantly waiting for the carpet to be pulled out from under him, for the dream to die not with a roar, but with a whisper. Maybe it was stupid, maybe it was more than a little melodramatic…but with the way his life had gone, it seemed the most likely outcome. But it hadn’t come. Not this time. He had failed, sure…But he was still alive. Still standing. Right on the brink, sure, but still standing….where the old Dexter Jacobs would have long since fallen.

“Never again.”

The words rang out through the room, far more loudly than Dex had intended. He felt the body next to him shift, wincing slightly as he shook his head. She didn’t even roll over, just reached out behind her, grasping for him as she mumbled sleepily in his direction. “Mm? What’d you say?” Dex couldn’t help but smirk slightly, helping her hand find his and squeezing it slightly. “Nothin’, Doll. Go on back t’ sleep.” She mumbled something at that, before turning back, pulling the thin hotel blanket back up around herself as she curled back up. Dex watched her for a moment before turning his attentions back out to the space before him, finishing the final swig of warm beer with a grimace. He’d failed, that was true. He’d stumbled, and he’d nearly let old habits drag him back down…But he’d survived. He was still here, still employed, still fighting…Still breathing.

He’d failed, sure.

And now Dex was determined to work that much harder to make sure that it never happened again. And as far as he was concerned…

Survive & Conquer seemed like the perfect place to start.

==Give It A Name==
Survive & Conquer
January 19th, 2014

Survive ‘n Conquer.

One of the biggest, most prestigious events in pro wrestlin’ history. Ain’t a man or woman in this sport who, if’n you walked up to ‘em and asked ‘em about Survive ‘n Conquer, wouldn’t know exactly what the fuck you were talkin’ about. The biggest names in our sport come out for this lil shindig, year in, year out. Legends. Icons in the business. Killers, monsters, bad motherfuckers, and some of the best professional wrestlers in the damn world. Household names, and people lookin’ to become household names. Winnin’ this thing ain’t just a feather in your cap. Ain’t just another accolade. It’s the sort of thing that puts y’ on the map for years t’ come. The sort of thing folks don’t ever forget.

An’ this year…

This year ain’t no different.

One last time, Survive ‘N Conquer, comes callin’. 80 names linin’ up for a shot at glory. 80 names lookin’ for they shot at greatness. Legendary names. Pillars of this fuckin’ industry. World Champions, an’ future world champions alike. Then there’s the folks flyin’ beneath the radar, the dark horse candidates who everybody gotta watch out for. Guys who are lookin’ for that one shinin’ moment t’ grab the brass ring an’ make the entire world remember ‘em. Hungry dogs jus’ lookin’ t’ get fed.

An’ then there’s me, right smack in the middle of it all.

Not that ya’ll would know it. An’ Hell, not that I’d even expect ya’ll to. This ain’t ‘bout a guy like me, after all. I’m not the one folks are talkin’ about. I ain’t Paradox McSweeney, gettin’ hyped to the hills as the dude t’ make the next big plunge an’ make his name winnin’ this thing. I ain’t somebody like Aurora Jansen, on the streak of a lifetime, tryin’ to put ‘nother feather in her cap on her way t’ greatness. I ain’t a big name like Doug Fresh, or Adrien Specter, or my girl Arkia Fisk, who’s got the resume t’ back up any claim I lay on victory here. I ain’t a former World Champ, like Dom Harter or Gordon Fury I ain’t Rex Evans, who when he goes threatenin’ t’ cut everybody who stands in his way in half, by God you best believe he’s gonna do exactly that. I ain’t even one of the ones you wanna watch, one of them upstart, dark horse candidates like Chris Shields or Faith Skyler or any number of other folks ya’ll could mention. I ain’t even a patented fuckin’ joke like ol’ Hoss Raab or Decker Watts.

I ain’t the name on everybody’s lips. I ain’t the man everybody’s lookin’ out for, gunnin’ t’ take ‘em out ‘fore they can grasp that brass ring. Shit, save for the select few who know me from Phoenix, apart from Jason Kash havin’ what appears t’ be more ‘n a little bit of a crush on me, an’ Rex Evans addin’ me t’ the list of folks who’s ribs he intends upon crackin’? I ain’t heard a soul speak of me any more than in passin’. The rest? They probably done forgot I exist the second after they checked the card.

By now? More ‘n likely each an’ every last one of ‘em don’t even remember my name.

I ain’t a legend. I ain’t an icon. I ain’t the next big thing, an’ Hell, I ain’t even on the radar.

I’m jus’ a man.

A man lookin’ for a fight.

An’ for awhile, that’s been the way I like it.

See, I’ve been the man with expectations weighin’ him down before. I been the man with the shiny future up ahead. I been the guy clutchin’ after the brass ring, an’ I fucked up. I pissed it all away.

I was on the cusp of my future, an’ I fucked it up. I fucked it all away, an’ went tumblin’ back down t’ the bottom of the ladder again, an’ it didn’t seem like I was ever gonna make it back up. So I shed the burden of ‘expectations’. I set aside my best laid plans.

I fuckin’ went t’ work, an’ I bided my time. I was patient…well, patient as a man can be when he’s waitin’ for somethin’ that may never come. I waited, an’ I waited…an’ lo an’ behold, my patience was rewarded. I got my second chance, my one last shot in Phoenix Wrestlin’…

An’ I been makin’ the most of it ever since.

Shit’s still young, mind ya. An’ I ain’t won every fight I been in…But I damn sure, DAMN sure been makin’ an impression. Every night I go out there, I fight like it’s my damn life dependin’ on it, ‘cause Hell, it is. ‘Cause when it’s all said an’ done, that’s all I got. Ain’t about no bullshit ‘n fanfare. Ain’t about fame, or legacy, any of that. It’s about knowin’ that no matter what’s been put in fronta me? I made the very best of it, t’ my very last breath. Every fight Phoenix Wrestlin’ sees fit t’ give me, I’m gonna pour every ounce of myself into, because this? This is all I got. It’s all I am.

An’ Survive ‘n Conquer ain’t gonna be no different.

Lotta people wouldn’t even have the balls t’ step into a match like this. For the eighty that signed they names on the dotted line, there’s thousands more who jus’ weren’t up for it. They blanched at the challenge. They didn’t wanna put their asses on the line. That ain’t me. I want the best competition. I want the best damn fights the world has t’ offer. An’ when one like this gets laid down in fronta me? You can damn sure bet I’m gonna be one of the first in line. I ain’t shied away from a fight in my life, an’ I damn sure ain’t gonna start with the biggest one of my career. I heard a lot of people talkin’ about this group we’re in…How tough it is. How it’s got the most dangerous stack of competition in the whole damn event…How comin’ out of a group like this would be a Goddamn miracle.

Group ‘a death, they callin’ it.

Like it’s a bad thing.

Me? I wouldn’t want it any other damn way. I ain’t cowed by facin’ the best. I ain’t afraid of competition. I’m comin’ t’ fight, an’ I’m comin’ t’ fight the best. If’n I’m gonna win this damn thing, this is EXACTLY where I want t’ be. In the deep end, with all the most dangerous fish in the fuckin’ sea. I want the challenge. I want the best. Some of ya’ll are lookin’ at this like somethin’ t’ be ‘fraid of. Like ya’ll bein’ in group four is a Goddamn punishment. Not me.

Where ya’ll see a death sentence, I see a golden fuckin’ opportunity.

See, I’m done, bidin’ my time. I got a chance here t’ make somethin’ of myself. T’ make my name mean somethin’. It ain’t somethin’ I went lookin’ for, but I’ll be damned if I’m gonna let it pass me by.

If I’m gonna go through the fire, then I damn sure wanna smell like fuckin’ smoke when I come out the other side. I want the battle scars. I want t’ fight the best, the nastiest, the most vicious, the most competitive. That’s what I’m livin’ for. I got this one last shot, this one chance t’ live out this dream, an’ damn it, I’m gonna do it as grand as I fuckin’ can. Some of ya’ll are terrified of this group…

I can’t fuckin’ wait.

I can’t fuckin’ wait, ‘cause I know what I’m bringin’ t’ the table. I can’t fuckin’ wait, ‘cause I know what I’m prepared t’ do t’ keep grindin’ forward toward that brass ring. I can’t fuckin’ wait, because I’m ready for the fight of my fuckin’ LIFE…

So ya’ll damn sure better be, too.

You best bring all the damn head kicks you got, Faith. You best have polished up every fuckin’ DDT in the books, an’ invented a few more elsewise, Aurora. An’ God willin’ if it makes it that far, ya’ll best be ready t’ shatter each an’ every last one of my fuckin’ ribs, Rex. Each an’ every last one of ya’ll, from top t’ fuckin’ bottom, better be prepared t’ do just the same if not more. Each an’ every last one of ya’ll best be prepared t’ fight t’ the bitter fuckin’ end…’Cause that is exactly what I’m gonna do. I ain’t the toughest. I ain’t the meanest. I ain’t the best wrestler, I ain’t none of that. But I got more fight in me than jus’ about anybody, an’ when I step through them ropes at Survive ‘N Conquer, you best believe I’m bringin’ every last damn bit of it with me. I may not win the damn thing, I may not even survive the first round, but whoever does? They’re gonna have t’ fuckin’ earn it. I ain’t gonna sit here an’ throw out the cliché an’ tell ya’ll you’re gonna have t’ kill me t’ beat me…But Goddamnit, you’re gonna have t’ come damn close. If’n I ain’t the man t’ walk out with his hand raised, I’m gonna at least be able t’ take solace in knowin’ the man or woman ‘at did fuckin’ earned it.

This is the biggest chance I’ve ever had presented t’ me. The greatest opportunity I’ve ever held in my hands…An’ you can be damn sure I’m makin’ the most of it, no matter what.

I ain’t makin’ no promises. No guarantees. I ain’t gonna sit here an’ be like some of these motherfuckers, throwin’ together catchy phrases, puttin’ a spin on the name, declarin’ victory ‘fore we even started.

I’m comin’ t’ fight, an’ I’m comin’ t’ win…But even if I don’t? No matter what happens, no matter what the outcome…I’m gonna promise ya’ll this. When the smoke clears, an’ it’s all said and done…

Ya’ll are damn sure gonna know my name.[/b]

[Ernie]

Savannah, Georgia.
SuperBeast Training Compound.
January 7th.

The height of the arctic vortex is in full effect, bringing single digit temperatures and subzero windchills to even the southern USA, usually known for its warmer climate. This is apparent as both Pat Gordon, Jr. and the legendary SuperBeast Sylo are wearing knit caps and heavy winter coats. The gigantic SuperBeast barks orders through a megaphone at the young Bostonian, who is harnessed to a semi-truck, complete with the trailer. Gordon leans forward, trying with all of his might to pull the semi-truck behind him.

Sylo: “Damn it, Patty Cakes. My GRANDMA can do better than that! Put some back into it. If you want to win Survive and Conquer, you’ve got to MOVE. THAT. BUS!”

Pat Gordon, Jr. grunts and gasps for air. His face is turning purple, but he still can’t budge the truck. After a little while, he gets a glimmer in his eye…

The Boston Bruiser veers to his left, where he has spotted a garden hose. He takes the hose and turns it on, dousing the ground underneath the wheels with water, which quickly freezes and becomes ice. He then realigns himself in the center and the truck’s wheels start to slide forward. Sylo’s mouth curls up and he rolls his eyes, yelling to someone out of view.

Sylo: “That’s it. Get the bigger truck!”



Somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean.
January 17th.

Pat Gordon, Jr. is on the first leg of his flight to Germany. He’s crammed up into a seat in economy class. It’s uncomfortable, and he hates to fly, but the group of small, empty cups on the fold-out tray in front of him that once were full of Johnny Walker seem to have taken the edge off. Sweat is beading up on his forehead from the alcohol.

PGJR: “Wrestling is a very personal sport, and anyone who tells you, ‘It’s just business,’ or they’re only in it for the money is lying. Most of us travel all across the country, hell, even the WORLD, to cities we never really get to see, because all we have left after paying for the gas or ticket to get there and the cheapest motel room we can find is twenty bucks. And even the people who make it big can’t deny that there’s nothing personal about locking up to throw someone around the ring.

“But even in events like these, with ten million dollars on the line, the money isn’t the big motivator. Sure, people will do anything for money, anyone who’s ever watched Fear Factor knows that, and winning an event like Survive and Conquer cashes in bigger than the ten mill - it’s an instant ticket into the BIG MONEY fights, a chance to write your own deal wherever you go. But we all have our own personal reasons for doing what we do. We all have that void inside us that can only be filled by going out there and beating people up in front of a screaming crowd. It can only be filled by attention from the fans, whether they’re cheering or booing us, because at least someone has noticed us. That emptiness inside us is what drives us to seek approval, accolades, and, most importantly, wins.

“We all have our own personal reasons for being here. As much as I want to bring glory to the Gordon name, I’m also out to earn respect. See, people don’t realize that you have to work TWICE as hard as everyone else when your father used to wrestle, because everyone expects so much more out of you than the guy who just woke up one day and decided he wanted to go get trained to fight. I’ve heard time and time again that the only reason I get matches at all is because my dad was a wrestler, and there’s nothing like winning a twenty-person rumble and then the cage match, street fight, and hell-in-the-cell ladder match after it to earn the respect of your peers. Winning this, the LAST Survive and Conquer match EVER, makes you an Instant Legend and gives you something to point to if anyone tries to question you ever again.

“And it’ll win me the best prize a man could ever get - a pat on the back from my father. I wanna give the old man a reason to be proud of me while he can still remember who I am, while he still knows, even it’s only sometimes, that I’m his son. I want him to be able to tell people before his memory is completely gone that his son accomplished something great, that his son won one of the biggest wrestling events in the history of the sport. I want him to be able to go up to everyone he sees and say, ‘MY son won Survive and Conquer. What did your son do?’”

The Boston Bruiser wipes the sweat from his face with the palm of his hand. He then wipes his hand dry on his t-shirt.

PGJR: “Now, this isn’t my first rumble. I was in last year’s Survive and Conquer, and since then I’ve been in FGA’s Gold Rush Rumble and FRONTIER’s Open House II and Open House III. And I’m getting closer each time I step foot into one of these. Hell, I was the LAST PERSON eliminated from the Open House III just a couple weeks ago when Leanne Evangelista won it. I’m starting to get the hang of these things, even becoming a rumble specialist, if you will, and I’ve learned one important fact about them…

“See, you don’t have to be the best wrestler in the world in order to win. It doesn’t help to study everyone’s tendencies and disect the things they do in a regular match, because this ISN’T any ordinary match. You’re crammed in with nineteen other people, a lot less than last year, and trying LIKE HELL not get thrown over that top rope! Normality is thrown out the window completely. All it takes is a split second of not knowing where you are or what’s around you, and you’re gone. All it takes is one big gorilla hoisting you up into the air and sending you sailing so high in the air you can’t possibly reach the top rope to grab it, and your dreams are destroyed. Skill, perseverance, wit, stamina… None of these things will take you as far as a fair bit of luck. Luck is all you need.

“And there are a few basic strategies that people will fall into. Cowards will hide in the corner and try to let everyone else do the work for them. They’ll try to fly under the radar and wait it out until there’s one person left, then strike from behind. Fools will form alliances, believing they won’t be broken. But if there’s one thing playing Risk, the game of world domination has taught me, it’s that those alliances don’t last. You’re not in there with teammates. No, you’re ALL ALONE in that ring. It’s everyone for oneself. Then, there are the brave, who will storm right into the fray, fists flailing, ready to eliminate everyone on their own if they have to.

“As for me, I fall into the third category. I love a good fight, and I’m not afraid to march right into the heat of battle and mix it up. I’ve proven that time and time again in the two years I’ve been wrestling. I won’t back down from ANYTHING.

“But that’s just the Survive part. From there, if you’re lucky enough to make it out of your group and to the final, that’s where the Conquering comes in. It’s a steel cage match, and I’ve been in a couple of those. You have to fight three others and claw your way up the cage wall and over the top. Then, when you’re huffing and puffing, gashed open and bleeding from that, it’s time for the street fight. Well, like I said, a Gordon NEVER backs down from a fight. Hell, I grew up in South Boston, and if you saw how we celebrated in the streets by curb stomping one another when the Red Sox won the pennant, then you know a street fight is right up my alley. Finally, if you’re lucky enough to last through all of that, it’s the hell-in-the-cell ladder match. It just gets more and more brutal as it goes on. And it takes a real bruiser to come out on top.”

Pat Gordon, Jr. leans back in his seat and closes his eyes, trying to get some rest. It isn’t long before he dozes off, which is evident from his snoring.

[Charlie Luzon]

"Ok ok....so these past few weeks weren't so great for me, I have my ups and downs, well in my case, it's mostly downs, but really now who doesn't? Facing Inferno for the umpteenth time then losing to him the umpteenth time, meeeeew <_< I GAVE him those wins ok? GAVE! Yeah!

That's what I can and will say so boo you to those who disagree, kiss my A for all I care! 

That is old news however and right now, I am focused on the news that is right now and that is Survive and Conquer 2014 I can see that my very good friend Miss Amber Torres is participating in this battle royale, I do ever so hope that I make it into the finals with her....

Then there is the human garbage that is Gabriel Asar

*hisses*

I can't stand that guy, always got to be talking major s**t about me, dude why are you always so obsessed with Charlie Luzon? Let me tell you something about Charlie Luzon, CHARLIE LUZON IS NOT CONCERNED WITH YOU! Of course in this case, I am, because buddy, I plan on giving you the biggest embarrassment in your entire life, so embarrassing, that you will NEVER show your face in this business ever, ever, EVER AGAIN! You sir are and will be old news up in this bizatch <---- yeah I invented that word because I can mmkay? You better hope you don't make it into the finals with me, or in the sudden case something horrible unexpectedly happens, that I don't make it into the finals, because there will be hell to pay. They think hell has no fury like a woman scorned? HA! They clearly haven't met me.

I don't really care about anyone else in my group to be honest, well except for maybe Arkia Fisk....and Brytain Rollins.....

She scares me sometimes, has anyone seen the way she brutalized Zack Lifer? Ouch! Don't mess with her indeed.

As far as Arkia is concerned, she is woman of the year for a reason.....is that what the award is called? Meh, anyways, she is woman of the year for a reason and I'm pretty sure that she will show her stuff at Survive and Conquer, if I can't make it in the final 4, I sure hope those one of those two do, but I'm also sure that I will make it, so ladies, take no offense if you get eliminated earlier than I have hehehehe.....

Oh god, she's probably reading this by now D:

Well, whatever AT SAQ 2014, Charlie Luzon will be on location, in the ring, as the last man standing, KING OF THE WORLD DAMN IT! Ok I'm done typing, see ya there bitches Muah!"

Charlie Luzon

"Well, I'm here in APW right now, livid out of my mind, shivering, wondering what in the hell is going to happen up in this biz, and you know what, I got LOT's to say about the way they are doing things this year...hmmm, where to start?"

Pacing around, I wonder about the things that I find all wrong in Survive and Conquer, for one thing, really? in groups?

Charlie Luzon

"I personally hate the way you guys made this into a separate groups thing....where's the fun in that yo? I mean HELLOOOOOOO, how in the hell am I supposed to bec embarrassing Gabriel Asar now?, I actually liked how it was in 2012 I think it is? Meh. Anyways, I liked how it was in the past, where peeps were in the ring....all of them, not this separate crap, f**k that, now I gotta wait till the finals to actually complete the goal I WAS thinking about accomplishing on here, I mean sure, I could always interfere in Asar's group, do it there, but like I said, there is no fun in that, but I guess it makes all the wait even more exciting and it will pump me up even more so ok, I'll wait for now, bring it other people because Charlie Luzon is focused on ....well I'll tell you later because it's pretty sinister *laughs*"

I pace around even more, facing back

Charlie Luzon

"Now, I know we got some good names on my group, Arkia Fisk and Brytain Montgomery-Rollins to name a few, hey I gotta mention those that are repping PDW, first, it IS my home company after all. Yeah there are others on there as well, Kerry Windsor, Prince Wadjethotep, whose name by the way, I'm having a very hard time to pronounce....honestly *eyeroll* and Dom Harter.....speaking of, is he still working for the company? Meh, I didn't care to be honest so whatever, then I see even more recognizable names like Amber Torres, Stefan Raab and that walking STD Gabriel Asa....YUCK! I can't even finish that name up without vomiting. Anyways, those last three are or used to work for one of my former companies WEW, now Amber and Stefan I got no issues with, so I hope one of them makes it into the finals

Then there's Asar, that fool right there wants a fight, well if hes in the finals like I will be heading to, he will be, but know this Asar, I plan on f**king your career, it will be F**ked right up in the a** so hard, it will hurt. 

How painful you say? *smirks* oh you know......

NO LUBE!

FISTING!

WITH A BIG, BLACK, DILDO!"

closing in on the camera by myself, I looked at it, whispering

Charlie Luzon

"The biggest *smiles* now you will know how hard it will be to walk and stand up straight, THAT is how much pain and suffering you will endure in this match, so pretty soon, once this is over, you will end up crying to mommy, "wah wah wah" finished, done and people will refer to you as Charlie Luzon's personal bitch, you will be my bitch, deal with it!

As for the rest of you, the same fate will apply to all of you standing in MY way, in MY spotlight and MY proper placement, so come at me, I dare you!"

I realized that people might get the wrong Idea over the little sexual threat I have made there, so I begin to correct myself carefully and calmly so people will get where I am coming from mhm.

Charlie Luzon

"Guys, lighten up, I won't actually do those three things in that ring? Jeebus, what to you think this is? Joe Levinsky's Promotion? *holds his hand up* stop it Please, I actually carry myself with so much class than that, but really, I always wanted to use that metaphor from The Most Popular Girls in School, watch it, it's very funny *smiles* ANYWAYS, in conclusion and to keep it short because I feel like making love to my man all of a sudden, stay out of my way, I want to be in the finals and END Gabriels career in the finals, one way or another, everyone wants to be a walking stepping stone to my goal, be my guest, I just want to get rid of this so called "failing stigmata" I suddenly have....SHUT UP! OK, time to go, I'm getting worked up now, time to waste this energy wisely....tata wenches!"

[Brytain Rollins]

My twenty-fifth birthday found me on a balcony in Paris, of all fucking places. A cup of chilling tea between my palms as I watched the lights from the Eiffel Tower blink and shift. It was well past midnight now, on New Years Day. Syn had fallen asleep just after one with me sprawled across his chest and his arms loosely wrapped around my bare waist. I’d lay with him for a few hours, my cheek pressed against his chest as I listened to his heart beat begin to slow, return to it’s normal, steady rhythm. But I couldn’t seem to follow him into sleep, no matter that my bones felt like warm liquid as I stretched languorously against his body.



Eventually, I crept out from under the warmth of the blankets and felt around blindly for the shirt I had all but ripped off of his body hours before. I slipped it on over my head and it fell almost to my knees as I padded quietly over to make myself a cup of hot tea.



Now, I was stretched across one of the chaise lounges on the balcony, my body sinking back luxuriously into the cushions. Everything about our honeymoon had been amazing, from the moment that we had stepped off of the plane.



I could feel my cheeks warm slightly as a blush crept across my pale skin at the memory of some of our exploits played through my mind. Even after nearly a year together, he could still surprise me in the most unexpected ways. In every way. For almost a solid week after we arrived we hadn’t left the hotel room, or the comfort of the massive bed at it’s center. We’d been in Paris for weeks but we’d barely explored the city, we were too busy exploring each other.



I sipped my tea, staring out with wonder at the city spread out beneath me like a lover. It was one of those places I’d always wanted to go but it had always felt like a pipe dream. Something I would never do and now, here I was. Almost a solid month in Paris, a gift from the man I’d given myself to in every single way you could possibly give yourself to another person. Mind, body and soul… I belonged to Michael Rollins.



I sighed softly in contentment as I sipped my tea again. In the space of a year my entire world had changed. It had become something more than I’d ever thought that it could be. There had been moments that had cut so deeply it felt like the wounds would never heal and moments that had been so wonderful that it felt like I would never know sadness again.



A year ago, I had been clawing my way out of a long year away from the ring. A coveted second chance to go back and fix some of the many mistakes that I had made. I was clean for the first time in years and I’d pushed myself hard to get my body back into a condition that was something even better than it had been when I’d stepped into the ring for the very first time.



My mind wandered as I stood up slowly and padded barefoot back into the lush extravagance of our hotel room. The man I adored with every fiber of my being had a taste for spoiling me with things that always felt a little too high dollar for a girl like me. A girl who had come from nothing and had never really grown out of the hand-to-mouth, hard scrabble existence that was making a name for yourself in the indies. For a girl who had spent many long months living out of her car at one point, the luxury he showered me with had taken some time to get used to.



Grabbing the still warm pot of tea I’d brewed, I topped off my mug and sighed softly, a feeling of contentment washing over me as I glanced at the man sprawled across the large, king size bed. As I sipped my tea, a small lovestruck smile curved the corners of my lips. I was where I was now because of that man, in more ways than he probably knew or would allow me to give him credit for.



I’d been lost, wandering. I’d done alright for myself, picked up a few title belts but I had no real focus. No real goals. I was more of a where-the-wind-blows-me kind of girl. The talent was there, the want was there but the focus was… anywhere but. I was too busy fighting back my own demons with booze and pills to really accomplish anything. But there was something about him that had grounded me, that had calmed those voices inside of my head that said that I would never be anything. Something about him that had begun to heal those broken places inside of me so that I could focus on something else besides my own goddamn pain.



I frowned slightly as I took a sip of my tea. I still hadn’t told him about Survive and Conquer. I knew he’d support me, I knew he’d train with me and push me and stand behind me every step of the way. But I also knew that he would worry himself sick when he heard exactly what this match involved.



This would be the first time that he watched me walk down to the ring since October. I frowned faintly at the memory as I absently trailed a hand down to my hip, tracing the four inch scar that ran across my hipbone. PCW’s final show, Anarchy, had been the last time that I’d been in the ring. I was a little cocky, a little overconfident. I was coming off of a six month winning streak that showed no signs of coming to an end anytime soon. I had the second longest Broadcast Championship run. Everyone that meant anything in the company had me picked to be next in line to challenge him for the top title. And I’d made a stupid decision when I’d challenged my opponent to a Cage of Death match.



Most of that night was a blur that culminated in a lengthy hospital stay and months of rehabbing. I knew that it had worn on him, taken it’s toll. Syn had treated me as though I were made of glass for the longest time after that match. Even now, after all of this time, I could see the faint worry in his eyes when I brought up returning to the ring.



Draining the last of my tea, I rinsed the mug and slipped quietly back into bed. He instinctively reached for me, pulling me against his chest as I let myself bask in the warmth he gave me.



I’d break it to him in the morning. But for now, I would enjoy another of what I hoped would be many nights, falling asleep with the steady beat of his heart under my cheek.



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



“This is where my story starts,” I said, glancing up at the framed photographs of past graduates on the brick wall behind the training ring at Snapmare’s Boston academy. My own among the first few photos. “This ring… this one right here, is where everything begins for me. The parts that are important anyway. I was seventeen years old when I stepped off of a Greyhound bus, standing in front of this building with wide eyes and innocence. I didn’t have anything to my name but what I was wearing and this stupid, insane hope that maybe one day I would be something more than what I was. This stupid, scrawny teenage girl who wanted to be a fucking world champion level wrestler. I should have been laughed at. I should have been told to take my ass back to North Carolina and live out the rest of my life like everybody else from my graduating class. In a trailer park somewhere, with a couple of kids on the tit and a drunk husband. Hands always chapped and red from working them down to the bone.



But I wanted more than that.”



A smile smile crossed my lips.



“I stood here that first day and I had no fucking idea what I was in for. I didn’t know where the next four years would take me. I gave up everything for this, not that that’s saying much. I spent every last dollar I had saved on that stupid bus ticket and if I’d been turned away… I had no back up plan. I wanted this life so badly that I never stopped to think what would have happened if I hadn’t gotten it. If I’d reached the land of milk and honey only to get turned away. Told there was no room for me. Laughed at because I couldn’t pay a cent towards the tuition.



But I guess she…”



I nodded at the photo of Tris Baylor, my mentor and the woman who had become the closest thing I had to a mother in this world.



“I guess she saw something in me that no one else did. She took a chance on me. She took a chance on a scrawny little girl from North Carolina who couldn’t even take a bump without crying.



And now, here I am. Four years later and I have a string of accomplishments that I guess I could trot out right now. Hold them up and say, see… I mean something. But why should I? What would that accomplish for me? Would it intimidate any of my opponents? Probably not. I’m in…”



I laughed mirthlessly.



“I’m in what they’ve been calling ‘the Death group.’ The group with the longest list of names of people who are recognizable in this business. Who have done just as much, if not more, than I have in this business. People like Arkia Fisk, Aurora Jansen, Faith Skyler, Dexter Jacobs. People who have accomplished everything that I’ve accomplished and more. I’m not standing in the ring with people who are going to be impressed that I’m a former world champion because most of them are former world champions of companies far bigger and more impressive than the piece of shit Seattle promotion that has the dubious honor of calling me their first female world champion.



I’m not standing toe to toe with a rookie, all wide eyed and easily intimidated. I’m standing in the ring with people who have probably never heard of me before.”



I smirked slightly, leaning back against the ring ropes.



“I say that because out of all of the names I’ve heard tossed around on the podcasts, on the blogs that always pop up to follow these kinds of events… I haven’t heard mine.”



I paused.



“No wait, yes, I have. I’ve heard my name exactly once and I’m pretty sure that the only thing I’ve heard about me is ‘She makes me laugh on twitter.’ I guess that’s something.”



A shrug.



“I’m not a household name and I’m alright with that. Because that gives me an advantage that most people… I guess, most people wouldn’t consider it an advantage. I’m not

someone that you’re going to prepare for. I’m not someone whose tapes you’re going to pour over and whose every move in the ring you’re going to scrutinize, picking me apart for weaknesses. Because you’re going to assume that I don’t matter. That there’s no way in hell I could come into something like Survive and Conquer and win it. You don’t recognize my name so you don’t think that I’m someone who could possibly be a threat.”



Another shrug, this time accompanied by a slight smirk.



“And that doesn’t bother me. I’ve spent most of my career being someone that people don’t consider a threat. When you stand nearly six inches shorter than most of your competitors and your most distinguishing feature is bright pink hair, people tend to overlook you. They think, aww, that’s cute and they move on. They’re looking at the six and a half foot tall guy over my shoulder or the chick over there built like a brick wall. They aren’t looking at me and that? Well, this is going to sound cocky as fuck but that’s brought a lot of people down for a three count on more than one occasion.”



I paused, a thoughtful look crossing my face for a moment.



“As someone who I once faced in the ring said about me: I don’t care if you talk shit. I don’t care if you love me or if you hate me. If you overlook me, I will drag you down to my level and make you see me.



So when people ask me if I care whether or not I’ve been talked up… when people ask me whether or not I care that my name isn’t on the tip of anyone’s tongues as someone who could possibly win something like Survive and Conquer… the answer is no. No, I don’t care. Because being overlooked is something that I’ve grown used it. It’s something that I almost expect. It’s something that I enjoy. I like the look of shock and then realization that hits my opponents when they realize that yes, a scrawny girl from Carolina is going to be the last thing they see before their backs hit the canvas.”



I cross over to the other side of the ring, closer to the camera.



“And maybe, in a way… I enjoy being the dark horse in every match because it gives me something to fight for. It gives me a reason not to become complacent. Mental strategy is half of the battle when it comes to something like this… when it comes to any match really. If I walk into the ring assuming that I’ve already won a match then I don’t push myself. I don’t give it my all because in my mind, I’ve already won. When I walk into a match knowing that I have to prove myself, that I have to show all of the doubters and all of the people who have ever said that I can’t do something wrong… that’s when I shine. That’s when i’m at my best.”



I licked my lips. Another shrug and a smirk.



“I’ve already survived. I’ve survived matches and injuries that should have ended my career, if not my life. I’ve had my back put up against the wall more times than I count and I’ve faced odds so terrible that most people would have crumbled on the spot.”



A pensive look.



“Maybe survived is the wrong world. What does survived really mean, anyway? Survived implies that I struggled through it and somehow came out on the otherside. Survived implies that I merely made it through the things that I’ve been up against more or less in one piece.”



Another smirk.



"No... a better word is thrived. Because I haven't merely come out on the other side. I haven't simply walked through the fire and managed to not be burned. I've come out on the other side better than what I was. Stronger. Something more.


Two years ago, I was looking at an injury that should have ended my career. Shit, when they carried me out of the ring that night, I couldn’t feel anything from about here down.”



I gestured at a spot on my chest, with a slight frown tugging at my lips as I remembered the moment when the paramedics had asked me if I could feel them squeezing my leg and with a voice full of tears, I’d had to tell them no.



“That feeling… I can’t even describe that feeling. The feeling that something that you love more than anything in the entire world and the only thing you’ve ever wanted to do with your life is about to be ripped away from you. When they carried me out of the ring that night, I didn’t expect to ever see the inside of the ring again. Shit, I didn’t ever expect to walk again. It was the worst feeling in the world. Something I wouldn’t even wish on someone that I hated.



That feeling…”



I trailed off, glancing away for a moment.



“I’ve survived that. And I’ve done more than survive, I’ve thrived. Two years later and I’ve been on a six month long undefeated streak. I’ve held titles. I’ve done more with my career in one single year back than a lot of people do in the span of five years.



I thrived and now I’m going to conquer.



Now I’m going to show the world that I’m Brytain fucking Rollins and I’m coming to take what’s mine. This is where my story started… it’s a story that should have reached it’s end on more than one occasion. It’s a story that should have been over before it ever started, if you want the truth.



But it’s a story whose final chapter hasn’t been written yet.



I thrived and now I conquer.”