FMW 10.2 VOTING & PROMO THREAD

WELCOME TO THE WORLD...according to Caesar! MUHAHAHAHAHAHA!

Mercury: That would be a scary place indeed! Imagine a world of mass crucifixions and gay orges around the clock!

Caesar: Hush YOU! That last part only happened once. They said it was an initiation!

Before I was so RUDELY interupted...




Mercury: What a terrible title!

Caesar: If you don't stop interrupting, I am going to nail your private parts to a Rutland tree!

Mercury: You can only find that tree in the British Isles!

Caesar: Fine, Red Wood, Sequoia, whatever. Just know that your prized man possessions, which you only use to pleasure goats in the first place, will be impaled by a sharp pointy thing into a tree! Damn it! You ruined my opening. I am going to go outside and beat up some homeless people!


Caesar walks off in disgust as hope to open things up in this “promo” have been ruined. He grabs his favorite walking stick and walks into the dark night, evil intentions in the back of his mind. Mercury slightly nods to Judas de Dios, Caesar's new bodyguard and sparring partner, to keep an eye on him. Mercury walks to his small desk, takes out his journal, and starts to write.




Mars: Pop in? Or would that be too much of the current language for you to use? Would “grace you with his magnificent and glorious presence” work?


Mercury drops his pen and places his journal into the drawer of his desk and turns forward to his brother. Mars motions Mercury to the living room of the storage area.


Mars: So why is Caesar not training or even sparring with young Judas? I present him this gift of a very great fighter to make him greater and possibly the greatest and all he does is beat up homeless alcoholics? My has your mighty leader fallen.

Mercury: He is not my leader! And I have to be honest. Judas maybe a good fighter. But he is...young. And he is very quiet and distant. He seems to be searching for something that he may never find or gain a revenge that he will never get a chance to fulfill. Who is this Craig Christ he continues to talk about? And he has fallen off the map. How do I deliver a promise I don't think I can keep?

Mars: Do you remember when you watched LPW, a wrestler by the name of Ken Ryans?

Mercury: Yes. He was going to be a huge star. Tried to be a Misfit Killer and all that. Why?

Mars: Well, he had a little brother. Little brother didn't like being in big brother's shadow and created his own wrestling promotion and went by the name of Craig Christ.

Mercury: After the Jewish prophet from Nazareth?

Mars: Indeed. Anyway, Craig found that he needed muscle, someone to watch his back and take out some of the more rebellious.

Mercury: Is this where Judas enters the picture?

Mars: Yes. You see, Judas was trained in Mexico by some of there top trainers. It was “his dream” to be a wrestler. He got his try out with LPW, through Mass Chaos. It seems young Judas impressed in a match in his uncle's promotion to make Chaos put in a good word for him. Well, the short version of this is Ken Ryans jumped Judas, since Ryans was at war with Chaos, and destroyed his chance at making it to the big time. The young man had a nervous breakdown and was committed, as Caesar was. Craig released him, knowing that this young man harbored so much hate for his brother. He used that to manipulate him.

Mercury: Which is why you placed him under my wing? You knew that by giving him a shred of hope to attain his revenge, he is easy to manipulate.

Mars: Partially. Let's be honest, Caesar is going to need people with him this time that will stand with him despite his eccentricities. Beating slaves to spar and prepare him doesn't work as well. He gets complacent because he knows he will win in the end. He is just more skilled and has a lifetime of war and fighting in his system. He needs someone that will test him.

Mercury: You said partially. Is there something about the young man that is more to him than meets the eye?

Mars: Yes. You might not be happy about this, but like I care about your opinion anyway. Long and short of it, I wanted to have fun at the expense of dear little brother Hercules. As you know, I still haven't entirely forgiven him for what he did to my Man Eating birds.

Mercury: That is an understatement. The amount of cruel and unusual things you have tried to do to him are...what did you do? You know Jupiter would...

Mars: I know the penalty for doing that, Mercury. And I didn't. When I said Caesar needs someone with similar experience to help him train, that is what I got him. Hercules' soul is trapped inside of young Judas. His thoughts, knowledge, everything. Judas has all of the memories of Hercules, but is still himself.

Mercury: Basically you succeeded with Judas where you failed with Caesar? So Judas gets all the benefits of Hercules without the bad while Caesar is an evil megalomaniac?

Mars: Hey, I am just trying to have some fun until I start the next war. I am going to enjoy seeing Hercules run around and acting like a mindless drone. I wonder if I can get him to pleasure my horse?


Mercury is dumbfounded by this revelation by Mars. As always, he could do nothing but stare and look on as Mars did what he felt.


Mercury: So, what must I do now?

Mars: Get Caesar ready! Persuade him that Judas is best served to train him. Caesar is going to have his hands full soon. His opponent is a dangerous one.

Mercury: The one called Apostasy. Yes I have heard of him. He was trained by Edible Matthewson, a friend and brother of Mass Chaos.

Mars: Indeed. And I doubt he will care for Caesar's perceived delusions of grandeur as he himself tries to climb the ranks of success. But he has had a conflicted past. Same as young Judas. Apostasy was the smart one though and chose to renounce his faith. Judas clings to his in hope that it will lead to his revenge. Apostasy...he has his path set how he wants it. Caesar better not take him lightly. Speaking of which, you better go. I think Caesar might have bitten off more than he can handle.

Mercury: When will I be able to tell Judas the location of the man that manipulated him?

Mars: When Caesar reaches a point that is pleasing to me, than I shall give you the location of Craig Christ. Until then, make him train. And don't let him get into too much trouble. Until next time, little brother.


Mars disappear and Mercury is left alone again. So much has been revealed to him, yet he still feels lost with what he must do. He hears a commotion in the background and sighs as he knows that Caesar has gotten himself into a situation that he could have avoided. He calmly walks outside, the cool air piercing his skin. He turns and sees a few broken bodies on the ground, bodies of the homeless. A morbid trail of breadcrumbs. Caesar follows the beaten foes until he walks to a blocked area where Caesar is surrounded by ten homeless men, some armed with sticks and stones.


Caesar: And what are you going to do with those things? Those things won't break MY bones, but I will surely use them to insert into your dirty poor people asses!


Mercury notices that Judas is standing off to the side of the commotion and is praying. Mercury walks toward him and nods. Both men walk into the middle of the fray and circle around Caesar.


Caesar: I told you to stay out of this, Spaniard! And Mercury, you in the middle of this fight is as big a joke as women in government.

Mercury: Come now, Caesar. We must get you ready for your match. Your opponent...

Caesar: Is some angst ridden druid who thinks he was duped by his god just because he didn't get enough women or money or whatever his sad life story was and went all cry baby over it and abandoned his “faith”. If faith is that easy to lose, he will be nothing more than a punch in the face and foot on his chest and I am the victor!

Mercury: Says the man that was humiliated by a woman.

Caesar: You know what, Mercury? I will make you a deal! If your Spaniard can get us out of this situation, I will train. Hey, dirty African?

Bum #1: What did you say, bitch?

Caesar: My large friend just said your whore for a sister was a great shag in bed. He was amazed at how well she could fist herself.

Bum #1: Is that so?


Caesar drags Mercury as they move to the side of the alley as the nine bums surround Judas. The bums creep closer, seeing that the gentle giant is not moving. The first bum comes forward, stick in hand, and goes for an attack. In an instant, Judas snaps out of his trance, grabs the stick and throws the bum into a wall in a matter of seconds. His friends, after gazing with there jaws to the ground over what happened, continue to attack. Judas uses the stick to knock out the first three that approach him, than breaks the stick while knocking out the fourth. He turns around and sees that he has four assailants left. One runs right up to him and tries to punch him, but misses wide. He turns around and eats a vicious spinning back fist, knocking him unconscious. Another tries to jump onto Judas' back, but Judas peels him off and launches him like a lawn dart into a nearby dumpster. Judas turns around to face off with the last two, when suddenly, Caesar springs into action by bludgeoning the last two bums with his walking stick.


Caesar: I couldn't let you have all the fun, young man. I must say Mercury, he is an impressive one, isn't he? I might just do something you say for once. I like challenges. Come young Judas. We must go and train. And we really should think about finding you a proper Roman name. Judas is just too...Jewish! Nothing against them. But they aren't Roman.

Mercury: No. They don't have sex with there man servants and drink urine for a festivals like us Romans do.


Caesar runs to chase Mercury, but is held back by Judas. Mercury walks calmly to the house as Caesar is cursing and calling evil on him.

“We are all brought together for someone's amusement. It doesn't feel good to have no real choice in your decisions.


I wonder what Caesar would think if he knew that he isn't truly in the driver's seat?


Will he be ready for the young man named Apostasy?


Who knows. I can't say for sure what is on his mind. I really hate being a baby sitter. I have one young man that is a nice, quiet man who is easily manipulated that wants to gain revenge against someone that conned him.


And I have a homicidal, genocidal, horse stealing, peasant beating, racist, megalomaniac. I love my life.


I hate you Mars! I really do!


I hope there is a brightside to all this!


Actually, the only way things can go back to normal for me is if Caesar achieves greatness.


I think I am going to be sick!”

End

FMW Ammunition 10.2 LIVE from Tampa, Florida-
Tonight's Card:

Ammunition vs. Corruption, Gray's Last Chance:
Chris Kelson

Singles Match:
Eric Ares

Singles Match:
Nikko Nulthy Nathans

Ammunition vs. Corruption Singles Match:
Romeo

MAIN EVENT, C-4 Championship:
Drew Michaels (c)

ALSO... Drew Michaels will confront Nick Bryson about Bryson's involvement with Virus, and Eric Scorpio will address his losing the C-4 Championship!



-FMW Corruption 10.2 LIVE from Miami, Florida-
Tonight's Card:

Ultraviolent Championship #1 Contender Tournament:
Harley Quint

Singles Match:
Alistair Wolfe

Ultraviolent Championship #1 Contender Tournament:
Mark Johansson

Television Championship:
PX (c)

MAIN EVENT, Ultraviolent Championship #1 Contender Match:
Harley Quint
* ONLY VOTE FOR ONE OF THE FOUR POSSIBLE PARTICIPANTS

ALSO... an update on the conditions of Ultraviolent Champion Jaro and The Celt after their hellacious fall off the MetalTron at 10.1!




-FMW Distortion 10.2 LIVE from Orlando, Florida-
Tonight's Card:

Fatal Four Way Match:
David GS

Singles Match:
Trey Spruance

Singles Match:
MASS Caesar

Singles Match:
Faith

MAIN EVENT, Unified Tag Team Championship Tables, Ladders, and Chairs Match:
Crash Scene (Skyler Striker and Leon Caprice) (c)

ALSO... Faith will announce matchups for her supershow event at 10.3, Supremacy!

If I get a chance, voting will be updated later, pending more promos

Sunlight shined though the white shades of Bryce Thorne’s small studio apartment. It was early Saturday morning in L.A and Bryce was sound asleep. It was nine in the morning, Bryce had to leave for work in a half hour and yet he was asleep on his futon. He was asleep but that all changed at 9: 01 A.M. It wasn’t the glare from the sun, nor was it Bryce’s bladder and it certainly wasn’t the nice, chirping birds that made Bryce’s eyes shoot open at that precise moment. No, as Bryce rose is head off of his pillow, he looked down towards the end of the futon and he saw his brother, Dexter rocking from side to side on the futon. Bryce shook his head, looked at the source of his brother’s excitement and saw two men wrestling on the nineteen inch television in the corner.

Bryce: Do you have to watch this crap this early?

Not turning his head, Dexter shook his head rapidly.

Dexter: It’s not crap, Bry. You told me last night that you admired their skills as athletes.

Bryce: Yeah, well I don’t want to wake up to it. If you have to watch it, at least don’t wake me up with your shaking excitement.

Dexter finally turned to look at his brother and gave Bryce a confused frown.

Dexter: Sorry bro, but don’t you have to get ready for work?

Looking for a clock, Bryce finally saw the time. It was 9:05 and with a start, Bryce jumped off the futon.

Bryce: Shit! I can’t be late to my new job. I got to jump in the shower.

Dexter: Don’t you have to be in for 9:30?

Hearing his brother, Bryce hurried into the bathroom and began to take off his sweats. Closing the door, He stepped into a tiny shower stall and yelled out to his brother.

Bryce: Dex! Get me towel! I got to hurry!

Five minutes later, Bryce walked dripping wet into the only bedroom and began to change into his work clothes. Luckily for Bryce, His new job was only a five minute walk away, but Bryce wanted to be early to impress his boss. Now, that wasn’t gonna happen. Combing his short hair, Bryce walked out into the leaving room and grinned at his brother.

Bryce: How do I look, Dex?

Looking up from his bowl of fruit loops, Dexter laughed and spitted out a mouthful of fruit loops in the process.

Dexter:Like a high class nerd.

Bryce’s grin turned to a scowl, folding his arms, Bryce laughed with his brother.

Bryce: Well, at least I don’t have clean up after your mess here. Before I go, I want you to know that I expect to come home to a clean apartment. You sit on your ass for eight hours; the least you could do is keep this place clean.

Dexter hung his head and nodded.

Dexter: Ok bro.

Bryce walked the three feet to Bryce, held his fist out and kicked Bryce in the shin lightly. Grabbing at his shin, Dexter looked angrily up at his brother, who still had his fist out.

Bryce: Cheer up Dex and give me a fist bump for luck.

Dexter: Go get em bro.

The brother’s fist bumped, Bryce nodded, turned and left for work. Dexter looked at the door for a few minutes, then he turned his attention back to the television and watched, with awe, the wrestlers in the ring.

Tossing and turning restlessly in a king sized bed, Bryce Thorne wanted to sleep a little more but as luck would have it, Dexter made that impossible. All Bryce heard was shouting and when he opened his eyes; he realized it was brother in the other room.

Bryce: Damn it, Dex! You do this all the time!

Swinging his feet off the bed, he slipped his feet into some hotel slippers and marched into the large living room. What he saw didn’t surprise Bryce one bit. His brother was sprawled on a long, narrow couch, eating cheetos and watching the ninety inch HDTV with glee on his face. Bryce was almost certain that his brother was watching wrestling, but he wanted to make sure. Secretly, he hoped Dexter was watching his match, but when he got behind Dexter, he saw with slight disappointment, that he was watching the last Hayabusa Cup. Sneaking up on his brother, Bryce was about to scare Dexter, when Dexter shot up off the couch.

Dexter: Hell yeah! Faith won the cup! Faith won the cup!

Bryce burst out laughing, as he watched his older brother dance around the room in celebration. When Dexter realized that he was not alone, he immediately turned and seeing Bryce, his face blushed red.

Dexter: Hi Bryce. Uh, yeah, about that dance, I was just uh…

Holding back the laughter, Bryce grinned at his brother, but pointed at the screen.

Bryce: Now, I’m not gonna get mad, but uh, why are you watching the Hayabusa cup and not my match from Distortion?

For just a moment, Dexter hung his head in shame, but when he looked back up at his brother, he gave him a goofy smile.

Dexter: Well for starters, FMW only puts their PPV’s or special events on DVD. Also, you uh know that my favorite wrestler is Faith, right?

Bryce did know this, but he had wished somewhat selfishly that he would become his brother’s favorite wrestler. Alas, that looked like that was a pipe dream. Especially, with his performance at 10.1 Bryce would be lucky if he was anyone’s favorite wrestler. Not responding right away to his brother, Dexter took that to mean that Bryce was upset. Walking over to Bryce, Dexter went to hug his brother.

Dexter: I’m sorry bro. It’s just Faith is so great at what she does and your just um, not.

Before Bryce could angrily respond, his cell phone rang. Glaring at his brother, Bryce ran into the Bedroom where his phone was. Spotting the phone on an end table, Bryce hurriedly picked it up and answered it on the fourth ring.

Bryce: Hello?

It was his lawyer, Art Rheumestein and he got right to the point.

Art: Bryce, your wife filed for divorce yesterday.

Bryce was floored. Reaching to sit on the bed, Bryce began to process what Art had just said. Fiona filed for divorce? It had been rough lately, but Bryce never thought Fiona would leave him. Running a hand though his hair, Bryce asked the first question that popped into his head and hoped for an answer he could live with.

Bryce: Why?

Art: I’m sorry Bryce, but her lawyer wouldn’t say, but I got the fax and it says irrevocable differences.

Bryce: Damn it!

Art: Bryce, there is something we need to discuss. Where are you now?

Bryce: I’m in Orlando. I got a match tomorrow in FMW here.

Art: Good, I’m in Orlando too, how bout we meet at that sports bar on Edison. You know where that is?

The sports bar Art was referring to was only ten minutes away from the hotel. As a matter of fact, Bryce was there the day before. Bryce looked at his Rolex and estimated the time it would take him to get there after he took a shower and changed.

Bryce: Yeah, I know it. How bout I meet you there in a half hour?

Art: That’s fine, I’ll see you then.

Bryce: Ok, see you then.

After he hung up the phone, Bryce walked into the majestic hotel bathroom and turned on the hot water. Ten minutes later, Bryce was ready to go see Art, but he had to tell his brother some bad news. When he walked in, he saw Dexter biting into an apple.

Bryce: Hey Dex?

Dexter looked up at Bryce, saw that he was dressed up and he placed an easy grin on his face.

Dexter: You’re ready to go Disney already?

Bryce shook his head no and saw a flash of disappointment cross his brother’s face but he had to say it.

Bryce: No, I’m sorry, but we can’t go. I got an important meeting to go to and I won’t be able to bring you. We’ll definitely go next time, ok?

Dexter nodded, but Bryce could see that he had really hurt his brother and that torn Bryce up. Bryce saw the Hayabusa Cup DVD on the black coffee table and an idea came to him that he knew would cheer up Dex. Walking over to the table, Bryce picked up the DVD and grinned at his sulking brother.

Bryce: How bout this, bro? Look at me, Dex.

Dexter looked up at Bryce, with brimming tears.

Bryce: Stop your crying. How bout before my match with those three jobbers, I get Faith to sign this DVD for ya. How does that sound, bro?

In a flash, Dexter’s whole face changed. Now, he was grinning from ear to ear, but he was still cautiously optimistic.

Dexter: You could do that? Faith rarely signs anything.

Bryce: Of course I can and besides, I doubt Faith would want to anger her no.1 fan.

Dexter Nodded.

Dexter: Yeah, you’re right.

Bryce: Of course I am. Now, I got to go, but when I get back, you can help me go over my match tomorrow. Does that sound cool?
Dexter: Awesome, bro! With my help, you can’t lose.

Putting down the DVD, Bryce fist pumped Dexter and left his smiling brother. Going down the elevator, Bryce began to worry about whether he could deliver on his promise or not.

Bryce: Fuck! What if I can’t get Faith to sign the DVD?


Entering his apartment, Bryce Thorne was on cloud nine. Yeah, work had sucked. He got yelled at for not being early, messed up some orders and he spilled soda on himself twice. That didn’t bother Bryce though, because he had a date with a famous person. Well, not really a date, but at least he got a phone number and nothing could stop Bryce from floating on air. Not even Bryce’s brother and on any other day, Bryce would be furious with him. Steeping over an empty cheetos bag, Bryce walked in to the kitchen and opened the fridge. Grabbing a soda, Bryce didn’t bother to get a cup; there were no clean ones anyways. Opening the soda, Bryce took a long swig and then went and turned the TV on. Turning to his futon, He saw Dexter sleeping and he plopped down on the futon which woke Dexter from his nap.

Dexter: What the hell? Oh hi, Bryce. How was work?

Giving his brother a sidelong glance, Bryce reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of paper. Taking another swig of soda, he carelessly tossed the paper towards Dexter.

Bryce: Work sucked, but I got that which made up for it.

Sitting up, Dexter grabbed the folded paper and unfolded it. As he quickly read, his eyes widened, but he gave Bryce a confused frown.

Dexter: Who’s Fiona and why do you have her number?

Lightly chuckling under his breath, Bryce stood and did a little dance.

Bryce: Good question, my brother. Fiona is Fiona Durlington and she’s a supermodel. I have her number, because, well, I served her and she was so impressed by my skills, she slipped me her number when she left.

Dexter laughed, but saw Bryce’s serious expression and frowned.

Dexter: You’re serious? No way would a supermodel go to a burger joint like Mickey’s and be wooed into giving her number to waiter, wearing a pinstriped shirt. I don’t believe it.

Instead of getting angry, Bryce grabbed the paper and laughed.

Bryce: Well, believe it, bro and with Fiona on my arm, I will finally get noticed.

Bryce turned and walked into the bedroom, only to look back at Dexter.

Bryce: Since you like my futon so much, I’ll be taking the bed tonight. Now, clean up and I’ll order some pizza. Got it?

Dexter nodded and as he got up to clean, Bryce closed the bedroom door to get changed. Looking into the small vanity mirror, He held up the piece of paper and smirked.

Bryce: Me dating a supermodel. I can’t believe my luck. Maybe things are gonna turn out good here after all.

Orlando, Florida
Present Day

Sitting in a corner booth, Bryce Thorne was facing the door, hoping to see Art walk in at any moment. He really just wanted to get this over with. Bryce didn’t care what Fiona wanted, he would give her anything, just as long as she stayed with him
While Bryce was nursing a Sprite, a man came up to the booth and tapped Bryce on the shoulder. Looking up, Bryce was about to snap at the stranger, when he realized that the man was his lawyer. Releasing a heavy sigh, Bryce grunted and pointed for Art to sit down. When Art sat down, he took off his wool hat to reveal a gray horseshoe of hair. While crossing his arms, Bryce chuckled.

Bryce: When’d you go bald?

At first, Art raised his eyebrows, but then a slight smirk developed over his face.

Art: I believe I began to go bald when you hired me.

Ignoring the rib, Bryce placed his hands on the counter and got right down to business.

Bryce: What’s so important you couldn’t tell me over the phone?

Instead of answering, Art flagged down a waiter. When the girl arrived, she grabbed a pen and poised it over the pad.

Waiter: What can I get you, sir?

Art: Sweetheart, I’ll just have water. What about you, Bryce?

The waiter ignored the name and turned towards Bryce. A single shake of the head made her walk away briskly. Art watched her walk away, and then he looked at a patient Bryce and just held up one finger. Five minutes later, the waiter returned with the water and walked away. Grabbing a straw Art plunged into the glass and took a long sip. When he placed the glass down, Bryce smacked his fist on the counter.

Bryce: Now, that you’ve watered your throat, what does Fiona want?

Art: You’re an idiot.

Nearing a boiling point, Bryce gritted his teeth and asked the obvious.

Bryce: Why’s that?

Arching his eyebrows, Art twirled his straw.

Art: Because you didn’t sign a prenup. Now, Fiona wants half of everything and with the way your track record is, she’ll get it and more.

Leaning back, Bryce realized his mistake, but he didn’t care. He just wanted this nightmare to be over.

Bryce: I gotta call Fiona. We’ll work it out. We always do.

Before his last word was out of his mouth, Bryce saw his lawyer shaking his head.

Bryce: What?

Art: You’re not allowed to speak with her without her lawyer’s permission.

Darting out of the booth, Bryce Pointed angrily at his lawyer and Art leaned back with a scared look on his face.

Bryce: Bullshit Art! She’s still my wife and we will work it out like we always do.

Art: Calm down, Bryce.

Bryce: Don’t tell me to calm down. You’re just my lawyer and once I talk with Fi, we won’t be getting a divorce. We’ve had fights before, this is no different.

Pointing at the booth opposite him, Art warily looked up at Bryce.

Art: sit down, Bryce. This is different. Fiona has seen the footage.

That stopped Bryce in his tracks. He calmed his breathing and slowly, lowered himself into the booth. He looked back at his lawyer with a pained look.

Bryce: She’s seen it. How?

Art: I don’t know how, but you have no leverage here. Bryce, I’m sorry, but it’s over.

Ignoring what his lawyer said, Bryce rose out of the booth and with a Blank look on his face, He looked down at Art.

Bryce: It’s not over.

Art: But Bryce…

BAM! Hammering his fist down on the table, Bryce ignored the glass that fell and stared sternly at his lawyer.

Bryce: It’s not over, you hear me. It’s never gonna be over.

Without waiting for a response, Bryce walked away and with his fist still clenched, he stormed out into the Florida sun.

-FMW Ammunition 10.2 LIVE from Tampa, Florida-
Tonight's Card:

Ammunition vs. Corruption, Gray's Last Chance:
Chris Kelson vs. Gray

Singles Match:
Eric Ares vs. Axel Van Osbourne

Singles Match:
Kaoru Hanayama vs. Nikko Nulthy Nathans

Ammunition vs. Corruption Singles Match:
Chris Austin vs. Romeo

MAIN EVENT, C-4 Championship:
Drew Michaels (c) vs. Abel Steele

-FMW Corruption 10.2 LIVE from Miami, Florida-
Tonight's Card:

Ultraviolent Championship #1 Contender Tournament:
Harley Quint vs. Calvin X. Carter

Singles Match:
Ripper vs. Alistair Wolfe

Ultraviolent Championship #1 Contender Tournament:
Mark Johansson vs. Virus


Television Championship:
PX (c) vs. Seth Omega


MAIN EVENT, Ultraviolent Championship #1 Contender Match:
Harley Quint OR Calvin X. Carter vs. Mark Johansson OR Virus
* ONLY VOTE FOR ONE OF THE FOUR POSSIBLE PARTICIPANTS

-FMW Distortion 10.2 LIVE from Orlando, Florida-
Tonight's Card:

Fatal Four Way Match:
Butters vs. Christian Moore vs. Bryce Thorne vs. David GS


Singles Match:
Trey Spruance vs. Jetstream

Singles Match:
Apostasy vs. MASS Caesar

Singles Match:
Faith vs. Syanide


MAIN EVENT, Unified Tag Team Championship Tables, Ladders, and Chairs Match:
Crash Scene (Skyler Striker and Leon Caprice) (c) vs. Danse Macabre (Damien Inferno and Gabriel Crow) vs. Jack Eastwood and Hannibal Frost

Voting subject to change

-FMW Ammunition 10.2 LIVE from Tampa, Florida-
Tonight's Card:

Ammunition vs. Corruption, Gray's Last Chance:
Chris Kelson vs. Gray
Goodbye, Nick.

Singles Match:
Eric Ares vs. Axel Van Osbourne

Singles Match:
Kaoru Hanayama vs. Nikko Nulthy Nathans

Ammunition vs. Corruption Singles Match:
Chris Austin vs. Romeo
Fuck you to everyone who blind voted for me.

MAIN EVENT, C-4 Championship:
Drew Michaels (c) vs. Abel Steele

-FMW Corruption 10.2 LIVE from Miami, Florida-
Tonight's Card:

Ultraviolent Championship #1 Contender Tournament:
Harley Quint vs. Calvin X. Carter
It's moments like these wherein I have to give myself some sort of pat in the back because I gave people like CXC more chances.

Singles Match:
Ripper vs. Alistair Wolfe

Ultraviolent Championship #1 Contender Tournament:
Mark Johansson vs. Virus

Television Championship:
PX (c) vs. Seth Omega

MAIN EVENT, Ultraviolent Championship #1 Contender Match:
Harley Quint OR Calvin X. Carter vs. Mark Johansson OR Virus

-FMW Distortion 10.2 LIVE from Orlando, Florida-
Tonight's Card:

Fatal Four Way Match:
Butters vs. Christian Moore vs. Bryce Thorne vs. David GS

Singles Match:
Trey Spruance vs. Jetstream

Singles Match:
Apostasy vs. MASS Caesar

Singles Match:
Faith vs. Syanide

MAIN EVENT, Unified Tag Team Championship Tables, Ladders, and Chairs Match:
Crash Scene (Skyler Striker and Leon Caprice) (c) vs. Danse Macabre (Damien Inferno and Gabriel Crow) vs. Jack Eastwood and Hannibal Frost

SEPTEMBER 20, 1983. 11:30pm.

A young woman is wheeled into the neo-natal intensive care unit. Her eyes darting around the room as she is wheeled further into the room. A nurse, not much older than the woman, walks over to her and gives her a smile.

Nurse: How are you feeling?

Woman: Sore, but I’ll be ok. What about the boys? Are they ok?

The nurse’s smile fades quickly.

Nurse: As you know there were some … complications with them which is why they were brought up here.

The woman nods.

Nurse: We’ve had to put them both on oxygen and give them feeding tubes.

Woman: But they’re gonna be ok, right?

Nurse: At the moment, we’re not sure.

Tears begin to form in the eyes of the young woman.

Woman: C…can I see them?

Nurse: Of course you can.

The nurse takes hold of the woman’s wheelchair and takes her over to one of the incubators. The woman slowly pulls herself to her feet and looks inside. Inside are her twin baby boys, asleep, laying back to back, a single blanket covering both of them. Tiny tubes are coming out of their mouths, attaching them to a machine giving them oxygen.

Woman: They look so tiny. But why do you have them laying back to back like that? Is it something to do with how they were inside me, so that it’s familiar to them, so they know that the other is there?

Nurse: In a way, yes.

Woman: But surely laying them facing each other would be better for them?

Nurse: Unfortunately, in this case, that just isn’t possible.

Woman: Why not?

Nurse: Because of their condition.

Woman: What condition?

Nurse: You don’t know?

Woman: Know what? What’s wrong with them?

Nurse: I’m not sure how to tell you this, but they are … erm, what we call Conjoined Twins. What this means is that their bodies are fused together.

The young woman seems to be rather angered by the nurses words.

Woman: What do you mean, fused together? They’re not …

The woman pulls back the blanket from the babies and collapses back into the wheelchair when she sees that they are fused together, seemingly from the back of their heads to their tailbones.

Woman: H…how did this happen?

Nurse: Nobody really knows, but because they are identical twins, which means they split from the same egg, the most likely explanation is that the egg didn’t completely split. Didn’t anybody pick it up on your scans?

Woman: No, I don’t think so. They always said that they were laying back to back, but they never mentioned that they were joined. Are they always going to be like that?

Nurse: Right now we don’t know if they share any major organs. We won’t know that until they are stable enough for us to scan them.

The woman breaks down in tears as she looks across at the tiny face of one of her conjoined babies looking back at her from inside the incubator.


SEPTEMBER 21, 1983. 2:16pm.

The young woman is once again sat beside the incubator watching her twin sons sleep. They have been back in the unit for an hour after having to undergo numerous scans to determine how they are conjoined and if there will be any chance of separating them. She’s lost in thought when a hand is placed on her shoulder causing her to jump. She looks up to see a grey-haired doctor stood next to her holding a clipboard.

Doctor: Sorry to keep you waiting. I’m Doctor Rogers. I’m the one looking after your babies.

The woman nods, looking at the clipboard in the doctor’s hand.

Woman: Are those Christian and Dominic’s scan results?

Doctor: Yes they are.

The doctor flips through some papers before looking back at the woman.

Doctor: Unfortunately it seems that it is more than just excess skin that is joining the twins.

Woman: Exactly how bad?

Doctor: It’s pretty bad. However there is one thing we can do, but you would run the risk of losing one, if not both twins.

Woman: Would they be separated?

Doctor: Yes. But as I said you could lose them both.

The woman looks at her two tiny sons.

Woman: Do it. I want them to have a chance at being normal.


JULY 16, 1990. 11:15am

A young boy runs into the kitchen of his home, where his mother is busy washing dishes.

Boy: Mummy?

Woman: Yes sweetie.

Boy: Who’s Dominic?

The woman freezes to the spot.

Woman: W…why do you want to know?

Boy: He was in my mirror and he told me that you killed him.

The woman faints on the spot in front of her puzzled son.


APRIL 12, 1998. 1:19pm.

A 15-year-old boy is sat in a psychiatrists office in the midst of an intense psychological examination. The female psychiatrist sat opposite him is taking notes.

Boy: Look, I’ve already told you, I’m only here coz those morons at Social Services reckon I had something to do with my mum killing herself.

Psychiatrist: Actually I believe it is more the fact you have been sent back to the foster home 12 times in the last 2 years because the foster families became terrified of you hurting their pets.

Boy: Oh come on! The damn hamsters were already dead! I just wanted to see why.

Psychiatrist: Wasn’t that why you’re mother put you into care in the first place?

Boy: No, she sent me there co I wouldn’t let her forget the fact she made the decision that killed my brother.

Psychiatrist: You’re brother? There’s no mention of a brother on any of your paperwork.

Boy: Well there’s a shock! The old bitch never did want to admit he existed. That’s why she had us separated in the first place. But she had to admit it in the end.

Psychiatrist: What do you mean?

The boy’s smile changes, which unnerves the psychiatrist.

“Because she had to admit I existed when I killed her!”

FEBRUARY 10, 2010. 7:15pm

In his locker room before Distortion, Christian Moore is getting ready.

“Do you miss her?”

“Who?”

“Mum.”

“Sometimes. Why?”

“You’ve been thinking bout her again.”

“So?”

“Thinking won’t change what happened.”

“I know. I don’t want them to change. By remembering how she was reminds me never to end up like her.”

“At least you have memories of her.”

“You have them too.”

“But they aren’t mine.”

Christian shrugs and closes his locker.

“Anyway, you ready yet?”

“Almost.”

“You all set?”

“Yep.”

“Not gonna have a repeat of last time?”

“Nope.”

“Judgement time?”

Christian turns to the mirror where we again see the dark-haired man looking back instead of Christian’s reflection.

“Yep!”

The face smiles.

“Excellent. And if you need my help …”

“I won’t. I can handle these 3 on my own. They are weak and scared …”

“And soon to be scarred?”

Christian chuckles.

“Pretty much Dom, pretty much.”

Christian turns away from the mirror and heads towards the door.




OOC: Sorry it's so short and pretty jumbled, but as I've been saying the last few days, I am in the process of moving house so this was the best I could do.

-FMW Ammunition 10.2 LIVE from Tampa, Florida-
Tonight's Card:

Ammunition vs. Corruption, Gray's Last Chance:
Chris Kelson

Singles Match:
Axel Van Osbourne

Singles Match:
Kaoru Hanayama


Ammunition vs. Corruption Singles Match:
Chris Austin

MAIN EVENT, C-4 Championship:
Abel Steele

-FMW Corruption 10.2 LIVE from Miami, Florida-
Tonight's Card:

Ultraviolent Championship #1 Contender Tournament:
Harley Quint

Singles Match:
Alistair Wolfe

Ultraviolent Championship #1 Contender Tournament:
Virus

Television Championship:
PX (c)

MAIN EVENT, Ultraviolent Championship #1 Contender Match:
Harley Quint

-FMW Distortion 10.2 LIVE from Orlando, Florida-
Tonight's Card:

Fatal Four Way Match:
Bryce Thorne

I think I speak for myself when I say that i totally got out classed this time round.

Singles Match:
Jetstream

Singles Match:
MASS Caesar


Singles Match:
Faith

MAIN EVENT, Unified Tag Team Championship Tables, Ladders, and Chairs Match:
Crash Scene (Skyler Striker and Leon Caprice) (c)

Once upon a time, in the far, far away land of Fullmetalandia stood an ancient abbey lead by an ancient group of monks who had secluded themselves from the world to contemplate the will of forces much greater than them. Around the rock-built building lay a superb garden where the rarest and commonest flowers grew alongside one another. Fullmetalanida’s geography provided the monks with a temperate piece of land, protected to the north and west by an impressive range of snow-peaked mountains and enclosed on its southern side by a luxurious forest of giant trees. Past its eastern border, an infinite plain lay, allowing the religious men to admire the fabulous spectacle of sunrise each and every morning. While everything looked perfect from the outside, things were not as bright once you got inside the secluded society of the abbey; many groups had formed throughout the years, each with their own beliefs and agendas, most of them not compatible with one another. One group in particular had taken an initiative most disapproved when they decided to leave the abbey on a quest to find another temple, one that would represent what they believed in. Many tried to stop them from leaving the ancient walls, be it via negotiation, threats or deception. That group was composed of four unique individuals: Brother Jose, a dark skinned man most skilled at thinking out new theories as well as creating pieces of art most would never think of; Brother Janus, a young evildoer who had been redeemed by the monks of the abbey and had walked close to the line ever since; Brother Christopher, a brilliant young man who was thought to be the next priest inside the abbey; and Brother Christophe, the young protégé of Brother Jose, whom had took him under his wing after only a few weeks inside the abbey but who had yet to live up to his true potential. Together, the group was often referred to as the Innovate Initiatum, a name they had carefully slid in conversations here and there so their fellow monks would come to use it.

Thus, after some preparation, all four men gathered just outside the giant wood doors of the abbey. After one last look at the shelter that provided them with protection for the past years, the group made their way towards the outside gate, ready to undertake their journey. Yet, they had to stop their progress shortly after, being blocked in front of the gates by a handful of their brothers; one of them stepped forward, arms folded against his chest.

Brother Michaels: Where do you think you’re going, brothers?

The Innovate Initiatum brothers looked at each other, a puzzled look on their faces. Brother Michaels always had been a “spiritual leader” of sorts for many in the abbey which, throughout the years, had given him somewhat of an authority over his fellow monks. On each side of him, two influent Brothers were recognizable; on his left, Brother Bryson, Michaels’ cousin, known to be a little darker in his beliefs than most monks or his cousin. To Michaels’ right, long-time friend Brother Dante, who had always been known as a man who stuck up to his beliefs no matter what as well as being very skilled in verbal sparring. After a moment, Brother Jose stepped forward, confronting his fellow monk.

Brother Jose: We’re leaving the abbey, Brother Micheals. The four of us have decided that we were to explore the world in search of something new, in search of the unknown.

Brother Michaels: Is this heresy, Jose?

Brother Christophe: Brothers, let’s not fight, shall we? We are simply on our way out; let us through.

Michaels’ eyes scanned the group, looking for a man in particular. Slowly passing between Jose and Christophe, he stood in front of Brother Christopher, a man he had vehemently tried to bring under his wing without success.

Brother Michaels: You too, Christopher? You wish to leave the safeness of our abbey and search for something which you are not even sure exists?

Brother Christopher: It is my desire, Brother. Please do not question my decision; I have made it for myself and myself only, I do not need to justify myself in front of you.

Michaels, visibly disappointed, looked at the fourth member of the group, only to be met with the silent determination in the eyes of Brother Janus, a man whom Michaels did not have any particular friendship with. Breaking the stare, the monk spun on his heels, regaining his place between Brother Dante and Bryson.

Brother Michaels: What do you think, Brothers?

Brother Bryson: I think this is pathetic; I’ve explored the land outside the abbey before coming in here and there is nothing to see.

Brother Dante: The fools will fail; once their resources will run scarce and their hunger will could their judgment, they will fight amongst themselves and attempt at each others’ lives. The abbey is the safest place in this land, there is nothing outside these walls worth knowing anyways.

Both groups kept their ground, staring a whole in each others’ chests; a confrontation was inevitable. Michaels’ right hand rose to chin, a sign that his mind was in work. Before anyone could take any action, his arms left his chest and chin and he took a step aside, much to everybody’s surprise.

Brother Michaels: Go ahead and do what you want to do. Keep in mind that you’ve put yourself in a bad position in the eye of our God, though.

With Michaels “words of wisdom” assimilated and just as quickly forgotten, the quartet moved on with whatever belongings they had strapped on their backs, leaving the abbey behind and setting off towards the unknown. For months, the quartet traveled around the country, pacing the roads throughout most of the known land in Fullmetalandia. They stopped often to learn new things and tricks, to hunt and eat and to sit and talk. While nights were fresh, it was nothing they couldn’t handle.


After six months on the dusty roads, the Innovate Initiatum finally found what they were looking for; a gigantic forest labeled on their map as “World’s Edge”. Nobody in the Known World knew what lay on the other side of those trees, and everyone who had tried to know never made it back to tell.

Brother Jose: This is it, brothers; the reason we’ve been travelling these lands for half a year now. Whatever lies after this forest we must discover and share with the world!

Brother Christophe: Let’s show those who believed us to be crazy that they were wrong!

Brother Christopher: Let’s be careful, we do not know what lies ahead.

Brother Janus: Whatever. Let’s see what’s on the other side and get this over with.

Flare walked past his brothers, stepping between the trees before disappearing in a curve. Christophe, Jose and Christopher all looked at each other, unsure of what to do. Suddenly, an ear deafening scream could be heard, coming from inside the forest.

Christophe, Christopher & Jose: JANUS!

All three monks dashed inside the forest, not even knowing where their brother could be. After picking up sticks and rocks, the trio arrived at a gruesome scene; Janus laid on the ground, his neck twisted in a strange way. Over him stood an enormous mountain lion, all claws out and teeth maculated in blood. Immediately, rocks started raining down on him, courtesy of the three spiritual brothers. The lion, not so easily intimidated, roared at the men whom interrupted his meal and leaped forward, hoping to catch a second prey for desert.

Brother Christopher: Jose! Move!

In an astonishing sight, Brother Jose stood still in front of the falling lion, his stick at the ready. Once he came into striking reach, the dark-skinned monk swiftly brought his improvised bludgeon over the head of the beast before falling to his side. After being stunned for a second, the lion growled once again at his new found enemies, only to be met with a rock right between the eyes which prompted him to hightail his way out of the scene.

Brother Jose: Janus!

Jose ran to the aid of his fallen comrade while Christophe and Christopher looked around for any other immediate threats. Reassured, they walked to the location of the mauling, where Jose held Janus in his arms, trying desperately to keep his long-time friend alive, but there was nothing he could do; his spirit had already departed for another world, one from where none had came back to tell.

Voice: I saw ‘em byes enter the woods! Get ‘em!

All three monks worriedly looked towards the source of the voice, which seemed to be located at the edge of the woods. The voice was soon followed by the sounds of people marching on branches, leaves and bushes in their direction. Curious yet cautious, the trio waited for the newcomers to arrive, sticks at the ready.

Brother Christophe: This doesn’t look good…

Brother Jose: Tell me about it.

Brother Christopher: Isn’t that… Lexo from the last village we’ve slept at?

Brother Jose: Santa Maria…

Brother Christophe: What’s up, brother?

Brother Jose: Nothing. We better leave this place before they get angry.

Brother Christopher: Why would they be angry at us? We claimed shelter for a night and left town early in the morning.

Brother Jose: Well actually…

Lexo: Well, well! Long time no see, friends!

From between two tall trees appeared a tall, blonde haired man wielding a pitchfork; behind him, several more angry-looking men with all sorts of weapons.

Brother Christophe: Good day to you, friend Lexo! The village is out hunting, I see?

Lexo: Indeed we are, young monk. We’re thief-hunting!

Immediately, each and every man behind the blonde man raised pitchfork and sticks, shouting in choir as a sign of approval. Perplex, Brother Christopher stepped forward, the tip of his stick leaning on his shoulder.

Brother Christopher: Thieves, you say? Was anything stolen from you?

At that very moment, a branch snapped behind Christophe and Christopher, causing them to swiftly turn around. Before their eyes, a spectacle they didn’t expect; their brother Jose trying to silently leave the scene without being noticed.

Lexo: Indeed, byes, and I do think this dark-skinned man knows exactly what I’m talking about, don’t you?

Slowly, Jose turned to face the group of armed and angry villagers. His eyes scanned the gathering for a second, before stopping on its leader.

Brother Jose: I do not know what you are alluding to, good sir.

Lexo: LIES! I know you have stolen my golden plate and I want it back, NOW!

Brother Christopher: Jose, what have you done?

Brother Jose: That’s not exactly what happened…

Brother Christophe: Jose…

Brother Jose: We don’t really have much time to discuss this now do we? RUN!

With a swift motion, Jose hoped over a dead trunk and hightailed through the forest, leaving both younger monks to look at each other, stupefied. Quickly, the villagers raised their weapons and rallied in a primal shout again, catching them both by surprise. Seeing the spectacle of the angry crowd charging at (or through) them, both youngsters followed their brother over the dead trunk and through the forest. Surprisingly, they were able to catch up with Brother Jose as he zigzagged through trees and bushes.

Brother Christopher: Can you tell me what those people are talking about?

Brother Jose: Well…

While he kept running, Jose reached inside his robe and took out a golden plate, engraved with a myriad of signs and symbols.

Brother Christophe: You didn’t…

Brother Jose: We had made a gamble and he never showed up! I simply took what was mine to claim!

Brother Christopher: Jose… you don’t mean to tell me that they’re going to try to kill us because you stole that stupid plate now, do you?

Brother Jose: Actually, that might…

Before Jose could finish his sentence, a pitchfork stuck itself in a nearby tree, alarming all three monks. Peeking back, they could only be startled to see that the villagers were actually catching up with them!

Brother Jose: You know what? I think this might be a story for another day!

Brother Christophe: Let’s split up!

Brother Christopher: What!?

Brother Christophe: Split up I say!

And thus they did; Jose took a right curve a disappeared behind the bushes while Christophe and Christopher dashed through the forest. After a moment, a cross-road presented itself in front of the two fugitives; no sign to mark wherever each road led and no visual to take a guess. Instinctively, each man took a different direction, leaving each member of the Innovate Initiatum to fend for himself.


Trees flashed by as Brother Jose seemed to float over ground, running his heart out through the forest while holding his golden plate close to himself. “I might’ve been lucky to get to the plate, but I damn sure won’t let ‘em take it from me so easily.” he thought. “There’s nothing they can do that’ll make me… whoa!” All of a sudden, Jose felt something tighten around his left ankle; before he could realize what was happening, he ended up upside-down, hung by his foot five feet above the ground. Looking around, he witnessed a man coming out of the bushes, a long machete in hand.

Unknown man: Well, well, well; wha’ do we go’ her’?

Brother Jose: Put me down!

Unknown man: Ya’re in no position to make requests, lad.

Brother Jose: Who the hell are you and what do you want from me!?

Unknown man: I’m I so rude I forgot to tell ya who I was? Let me make this strai’, friend: my name’s Billy and I’m from the village.

Brother Jose: Mierdia.

Billy: Right, and ya’re stuck in it neck deep. Here’s how we’re goin’ ta do this; you gimme that plate ya stole from Lexo and I let ya go. Ya don’t, and I letcha hang by yar ankles ‘til the others come by and kill ya. Whatcha think, PunK?

“Not like I have much of a choice”, Jose thought. “Although maybe…”

Brother Jose: Fine; put me down and I’ll give it to you.

Laughter filled the air as Billy’s chest went up and down. Placing the tip of his machete directly on Jose’s jugular vein, his eyes gleamed with malice before his laughter stopped unexpectedly.

Billy: Don’t think I’m a fool, punk. Gimme tha’ plate now and I’ll let ya go. Plus, I could simply bleed ya and take it if you don’t want to work wit’ me her’.

Brother Jose: …

Billy: Well?

Reaching under his robe, Jose took out the golden plate and handed it to his captor in a regret-filled movement.

Billy: Dat’s betta!

Branches cracked a few dozen feet away from the pair’s location. Seemingly worried by the arrival of his peers, Billy drew a knife from his belt, sticking it in a tree, a few inches away from Jose’s reach.

Billy: Well, I gotta bail now, punk! Good luck! Heheheheh!

With that, he disappeared between trees and bushes, leaving only his laughter behind before it faded in the distance. After a few seconds of struggling, Jose finally reached the sharp knife stuck in the wood and attacked the rope by which his ankle was tied one of the upper branches. The weak material soon gave up, sending the monk falling down a few feet before his body hit the ground with a heavy thud.

Brother Jose: Stupid vagi-bond!

Hearing the angry mob coming his way, Jose quickly got back on his feet and slipped away in the forest, putting some distance back between himself and his pursuers. He kept looking around for a sign of Billy, but he wasn’t able to identify anything. The setting abruptly changed from forest to plain as the sun’s light beamed over the dark-skinned monk’s face. He stopped for a minute, out of breath, and decided to take some rest on the shore of a nearby river.

???: How could you?

Jose’s heart skipped a beat; he hadn’t heard anyone walk out of the forest. He peeked behind, trying to identify the newcomer, only to realize that it was his brother, Christopher. Relieved yet intrigued, the monk turned to face him, the knife he used to cut his rope still dangling between his fingers.

Brother Jose: How could I what, Brother?

Brother Christopher: How could you use us to get to that golden plate? How could you put YOUR interests at a higher priority than those of the Initiatum!?

Brother Jose: Chillax, Brother! Let’s talk about this, ok?

Throwing his knife aside, the dark-skinned monk approached Christopher, ready to defuse the situation before it became too explosive.


Christophe had separated from his Brothers for quite some time now and he hadn’t stopped running, yet he couldn’t seem to find an end to those woods. It was then that he stumbled on a large river which seemed to find its source higher in the forest, maybe from the nearby mountains. As he followed the water’s flow towards what he hoped what was the edge of the forest, he heard familiar voices nearby. Worried at how loud they were, Christophe ran next to the river bed, eventually reaching a small plain. Immediately directing his attention towards the source of the voice, he witnessed a spectacle he wished he’d never seen.


Brother Jose: Listen, Christopher, I do not wish to fight you. If you want to uphold those claims, then I do believe we have nothing else to say to each other. Farewell, Brother.

With that, Jose turned his back to the man he considered a brother for so long. He walked away, bitterness gradually filling his heart from the harsh words he had been addressed with. It is at that time the he felt it; the sharp bite of metal ripping through skin and flesh, sending a cold chill up his spine and spilling his blood on the grass of the plain. Lights danced before his eyes as the pain brought him to his knees, his mouth filling with a dark red liquid. A loud scream could be heard in the distance, but he couldn’t identify what it meant or it was, not that he really cared at the moment. He tried to say something, but before any word could come out, Jose fell to the ground, his consciousness quickly dripping out of his body.


Brother Christophe: JOSEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!

Christophe simply couldn’t believe it; what had happened with Christopher? He had just stabbed the man whom he had looked up to as an older brother in the back! Sadness filled the young man’s heart like a flood of ice-cold water. His body felt numb, his mind was drifting in an ocean of questions. His body wouldn’t hold itself up, and thus he fell on his knees, much like his late brother had done moments ago. He looked on as Christopher seemed to add more insult to the fatal injury, feeling powerless. Only then did his treacherous brother notice him; he approached the river’s bed, screaming at the top of his lungs.

Christopher: THIS IS YOUR FAULT, CHRISTOPHE! YOU LET THIS HAPPEN!

The ice-cold water quickly morphed into hot lava inside the young man’s heart and veins. His body seemed to regain its energy, and the anger generated by his the action and speech of a man who he thought would always be by his side brought him back to his feet. His hands tightened into fists, his breathing got heavy and his heartbeat became a rush. Both men were standing on a shore of the river, really unable to reach the other. Both men fuelled on anger, one generated from frustration while the other was generated by grief. Both these men who had been brothers for such a long time and who were both still very close in their way of being were now face to face, separated by nothing more than a wide river. It was obvious that something would allow them to cross the gap at some point, and it was only a matter of time before those two could settle their newfound differences.

But that’s another story for another day…

The Artist Formerly Known As Jack Eastwood sits in an uncomfortable, moulded plastic chair, surrounded by filth and grime. Faded band posters line the walls of the box room he is in; one, a supposedly 'vintage' AC/DC '83 World Tour that the purchaser somehow managed to get for the low, low price of twenty-five dollars on eBay – the reason for the ridiculously low price of such a rarity being that, of course, it is a forgery, a mere imitation of what once truly was. And yet the owner appreciates it, even after being told numerous times the photo is a little blurry, and that the signatures look printed, or that the font was a little larger on the 'real' one. He appreciates it because, despite its obvious flaws, it is its own entity and deserves pride of place on the wall of his studio. Sure, purists may complain it's not an official version, but then how does that matter when its owner is as unique as the poster itself?

The owner is local Orlando DJ Rick Dagger, of Killer Rock Radio. He looks across the table at the dread-locked, leather-jacketed, six foot eight leviathan with the black eyes in front of him, and smiles a little nervously. Dunnwood looks right back across from him, a dangerous little smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. A small bead of sweat blossoms on Rick's forehead, which he mops up with the sleeve of his t-shirt. Right now Dunnwood has been looking at him for at least ten minutes, barely speaking a word and just sitting there, just smiling. Occasionally he takes a swig from the silver hip-flask that hangs off his studded faux leather belt.

Dunnwood casts the man under his glare because he simply cannot be bothered with this asinine 'interview'. The suits of FMW have told him that if he wants to change his character he has to promote himself, and that being on a rock-come-metal radio station is a way of showcasing his new gimmick, as well as being given the opportunity to shill FMW for all it is worth – which wouldn't be much if Drew Michaels had his way. So, forced to wait for the decrepit DJ to finish flicking a few switches while he allows some adverts to run, he lets his eyes wander around the room, noting the stained carpets and wondering whether the sickly brown on top of dull blue is urine, vomit, or a combination of both. A disturbance averts his gaze upwards. Rick has turned off the microphones and is preparing Dunnwood for the interview.

“OK man, I can see you don't want to be here, and to be honest you're scaring the shit outta me, so I'll be blunt,” he begins, lighting up a cheap cigarette and swiftly taking a drag, “what we'll do is we'll talk a bit, then I'll play a couple of songs, we'll take some questions and then call it a day. Sound good to you?” Dunnwood nods back at him and Rick feels more uneasy. Why isn't he saying anything? Desperate for some small verbal outburst from the big man, he pulls the packet of cigarettes out from his jeans, offering Dunnwood one, who merely shakes his head. A thought materialises somewhere in the part of Dagger's brain too foolish to stay quiet, and he says, “I thought you smoked?”

The newly-emerged third, combined personality of the Jaro Idol winner fixates a steely, black gaze on the unfortunate rock radio figure, who freezes as though a gun has been pointed between his eyes. A small silver of a pink tongue runs along cracked lips as he speaks softly, almost whispering, “I'm not in the right frame of mind for allowing carcinogens to intoxicate my body at the moment.” Dagger is forced to frown. He knows he has seen Dunnwood – or at least, a man who looks like Dunnwood – smoking a cigarette before. Just before he came into the studio, as a matter of fact. But fortunately for Dunnwood (or perhaps that should be for Rick), he cannot press the issue as “Never Enough” by Five Finger Death Punch finishes playing and he has to use the slot for the interview.

“Hey, welcome back, rock fans, and if you've just tuned in then it probably means you're a wrestling fan, because joining us as promised is one-half of the former inaugural Unified Tag Team Champions of Full Metal Wrestling... you probably know him as Jack Eastwood, but he's recently changed his name to Dunnwood.” To his credit, Dagger had done his research. “So, Dunnwood, we'll get onto you in a moment, but how are you finding Orlando so far?” Dunnwood simply stared and Rick was afraid he would simply refuse to say anything, but then he took a small intake of breath. “It's decent so far, Mr Dagger. I came a couple of times when I was younger, so the theme parks don't really hold much sway for me. I'm more interested in the social life, you know?”

“Well, I'm assuming you're talking about going down to City Walk? Downtown Disney?” Dunnwood nodded. “Yes, I have, it's just a pity I can't go down there, or anywhere as it happens, without getting mobbed by fans. Or the police.” He chuckles sardonically, the first sign of real emotion from the demented young man. Rick swallows back fear and tries to continue. “Well yeah, I mean, some of your actions have been drawn to light by the authorities, for example, your involvement of the Drew Michaels beat-down at the second Ultimatum.”

Dunnwood sighs softly. “What, that little piece of brilliance? That was nothing, really. Those fans of mine who have followed my career a little more closely will know I once blinded a man using just a beer can, and that I'm also a commentator in an underground federation. What people fail to realise is that I was trained as a wrestler to accept and embrace the pain that comes with the profession. Pain is merely an illusion; yet the majority of those people I work with get injured, and grimace, and pick themselves up and carry on working through it. I take that pain and let it become part of me. Only acceptance of a wound will allow it to heal.”

“Speaking of injuries, I hear one of your opponents for this match is going into this match with what could be a broken wrist. Now you're quite the opportunist, I'm assuming you'll try and work over on the arm?” Dunnwood takes another small slug from his hip-flask. “That'll be Mr Striker. Yes, he does appear to be continuing with his wrist not fully intact. I admire his tenacity, but berate his foolishness. The man has pride but it's only killing him in the end. By the by, I must congratulate Mr Striker, for I have heard through the grapevine that he is soon to be a grandfather.” Rick feigned interest. “A grandfather, huh? Well congratulations to Skyler Striker, wherever you are. We'll take some calls from our listeners right after this...”


A soft breeze rustles through the grass outside Skyler Striker's homestead at midnight. The Strikers lie in their beds, unaware of the terrors that lurk outside. “I still can't believe you managed to drag me here,” a voice hissed from the darkness. “Yeah well, I did, so quit your bitching, Snowshit,” another whispered back. The Matt Dunn-entity crawled forward through the greenery, tag partner Hannibal Frost not far behind. “I'm getting you in and that's it,” he growled, “that's all we're doing for teamwork. You owe me this favour and that is it.”

“Hanniboo, I'm trying to hear you, but all that seems to be issuing from your blue-tinged, frozen lips is so much static. We can get this done quicker without your whining and complaining.” Hannibal growled in dissatisfaction and Dunn sighed melodramatically. “Here,” he said, passing back the flask, “if you're going to just drone on, at least be drunk. It's more lulzy that way.” Wordlessly, Frost took the silver metal case and took a long quaff, letting air escape from his mouth in a pleasant manner. Passing it back, they moved on, creeping around to the side entrance, to where Jade's laboratory could be more easily accessed.

They sneaked up to the wall, being careful to avoid setting off any of the numerous security systems that no doubt guarded the perimeter. Then Hannibal slid up the wall to the door, punching in the code on the lock and hanging his head. “It's done. Just get in and get out as quickly as you can, and for the love of god don't do anything too stupid. I don't want you to be incarcerated when we're supposed to be having our match. I'll be waiting in the van.” He pushed the door open and slinked away, feline-like, into the gaping darkness. With only the slightest trepidation and a lightness in his step, Matt Dunn walked inside.

He crept low to the darkened floor, faint lines of moonlight running across the room, casting various electronica in a dirty white glow. A few scattered LEDs blink here and there, showing permanent activity, machines always working and running. As Matthew walked forward he stepped on a floorboard that creaked archaically, and he swore under his breath, pausing to strain his ears for any notification that those asleep might have heard. When he was confident of no such possibility he stole along, searching for something in particular.

At last his eyes alight on two pieces of equipment; a large, translucent cylindrical pipe atop a control panel base, and a white, sealed box. “Hm. Might not be able to drag that tube out of here,” he muttered almost silently, thinking aloud. He knelt next to the white box, placing a hand on it. Almost immediately he pulled back, the layer of ice on the outside stinging like a burn. Reaching behind his back to the pockets of his dark jeans, he took out a dark pair of gloves and a set of Allen keys, and set to work trying to unlock the cube.

Fiddling with the casing, he managed to prise open the lid. A wave of cold mist washed over his face as the top of the box was removed. Inside, surrounded by sheets of polystyrene, were several thin pieces of plastic, containing microscopic data. Dunn withdrew one, then looked at it, grinning. Sliding one of these wafer-thin pieces into a pocket, he then moved over to the tube, stretching and cracking his neck and arms in preparation. “Why did Eastwood have to be such a cunt and go see that psychologist? Oh well, I don't need his help for this. I can do it myself.” And Dunn ducks to the floor, uncoupling connections to power sources, before wrapping both arms around the cylinder, heaving with all his strength.

Wires and cables come loose as the flexiglass structure shakes on its base. Dunn grunted loudly, but it did not matter as surely the entire house would be woken from the noise. Thunderous footsteps reverberated off the staircase as Matt managed to – with one final struggling lift – pick up the device, and take off, bursting through the half-open door with his shoulder. He hears an angry shout behind but keeps running, down to the van where Hannibal is waiting. He looks up to see Matt Dunn coming for him, and starts the engine, ready for Matt to put the machine in the back and drive off.

With haste Dunn puts the tube down then jumps into the open door. Frost speeds off before Matt has even shut his door. “What... what in the hell... is that?” Hannibal blurted out, looking at the thing in his rear view mirror. Matt yawned out of exhaustion, tired from the lifting and dashing. “It doesn't matter. Like you said, you're just here to help me with this. Just drive, yeah? I need to sleep.” And his eyes closed, resting his head against the board behind him. In the back, the tube clunked and clinked, bashing against the sides as they drove on towards the airport.

So it's ten to two in the morning, GMT, as I'm writing this.
“So remind me why we're going to Australia, when we could have just as easily gone to Florida and held the appointment there? I already told you this meeting could take place anywhere.” Jaro grumbled for what must have been the fifteenth time. With a sigh, Eastwood stops looking out of one of the windows of Jason Roy's private jet to turn and face him. “Because... I 'ave summat ter pick up. Tha's all.” He ran a hand across his face, dragging tired leathery skin down with him. Jaro glanced back. “What in the hell is a 'summat'?”
And I must say, I'm absolutely knackered.
“A summat. Ye ken. A summat. Somethin'.” The explanation clearly didn't help, for Roy just shook his head and went back to his laptop, corresponding with the psychologist Eastwood was going to see. According to Jaro, this psychologist was conducting investigative research into the effects the lifestyle and work of a professional wrestler had on the human psyche. The pickings were supposed to be completely at random, but as Jason had put it when he filled Jack in on the details, “Basically they want a couple of ok guys and a couple of crazies, and let's face it, you're a hardcore wrestler with schizophrenia. You're practically a meal ticket to this guy.”
I only have myself to blame, though. So ho-hum.
As the plane touched down, there was a pick-up truck waiting outside of the terminal, with a large blue cylinder inside. Jack called Jaro over and pointed. “See? Tha's the summat I were talkin' abou'.” Jason looked at it, confusedly. “What... is that? It looks like a massive fish tank.” Eastwood merely shrugged, grabbing his hand luggage. “Carn really say. A priva'e vencher.” He unhooked his hip-flask and swigged it, mentally preparing himself for some lifting and shifting. “Drink?” Jason shook his head, slowly. “No thanks. I don't know what's in there. Maybe that's what causes the voices.” Jack looked up, then stared down the neck of the flask as if there was some sort of visible poison in it. “Din be a tit, Jaro.”
Doesn't mean to say I can't moan about it, though.
Eastwood disembarked the plane, warm weather hitting his body, filling him with sunlight and rejuvenating him. Despite this, he stifled a yawn as he walked over to the wagon, catching eye of a piece of paper taped to the outer rim. He picked it up and scanned his eyes over it, soaking up the information like a rag mops up blood.
I'm such a stupid pillock.
Hey Jacky,
Hannibal, my opponents, everyone, I apologise profusely for the lateness of my promo.
So I got it. I know you don't really agree with what I want to do, but all the same, if you could drop it off at the Asylum, that'd get you a Pedobear Seal of Approval. Don't worry about the sample, I'm keeping that safe. Have fun with your quack.
Wow. I very nearly fell asleep then. And I have my headphones on too.
Yours truly (much love <3),
Fortunately Jack Black woke me back up.
Matt Dunn [Esquire, The Third]
WE GOT THE PICK OF DESTINYYYYYYYYYY AAAAAAAH!
Sighing, Eastwood took the note off of the tank and picked it up, carrying it to the plane. Jaro stood there, just watching. “Ent ye gonna 'elp?” A shaking head was the response. “Why should I? It's your 'pry-va ven-chair', after all.” And so, puffing and grunting, Jack was forced to put the tank, base and all, in the plane on his own. When that was done, both men entered a small – relatively speaking – limosuine that would take them to Eastwood's psychologist's appointment.
Anyway. Back to the interesting bit.


“And we're back! Now we're going to take a few question from some callers.” Rick Dagger swiveled in his chair, flicking a couple of switches to open the phone lines. Dunnwood waited uninterested, regretting the part of the show where he had to suffer these cretinous wastes of oxygen. Lights began to spark up around him and he heard whispers of teenage girl in his ears. Dagger said, “Hi, you're on Killer Rock Radio, do you have a question for Dunnwood?” Screeching poured into Dunnwood's ears and he covered his face with an infuriated hand.

“Um, yeah, hi, I was like, wondering what the freaky Jack Dunn guy thinks of those hot Danse Macabre guys?” Dagger looks up at Dunnwood amusedly, who licks his lips, half-tempted to rant at the girl. “Danse Macabre? Well... they're alright, I suppose... if the whole 'goth' subculture is your sort of thing. They defeated Mr Michaels' team, something I'm sure they can take pride in... with that said, they're out of place in this match. My personal problems lie with Mr Striker and Mr Caprice. Mr Inferno and Mr Crow need to stay out of my way or risk getting hurt. And the name... is Dunnwood, you Kentucky Fried Chicken-loving jizz rag.” And so, the calls keep coming in, many different people from many walks of life.

“Hayabusa Cup, 2009. You were beaten by your rival and the runner-up, Seth Omega. Will we ever see a one-on-one match between the two of you?” “Mr Omega is a respectable opponent, whom simply does not know when to keep his unfortunately large mouth shut. I would suggest shoving a piece of cake in there, but then he would eat it. As far as a match between the two of us goes, I am always open to tussling with Mr Omega; however whether he will remain in one division long enough for both parties to have a match together remains to be seen. I wish Mr Omega the best of luck in his endeavors to claim the Television championship.”

“Mr Dunnwood; do you think this new 'personality' of yours will get you further in FMW than you ever were?” “I have every faith in both the booking staff and my mentor Mr Roy to guide me in the right direction. I admit that it has been a problem of mine whence I have fallen off the radar since losing both HavOc and the Tag titles. However, with this new... 'personality', as you so intelligently put it, I am confident I am on the right track towards recouping that which is mine. And I feel that this will start at 10.2, in Orlando.”

“Dunnwood.” “Ah. I thought this might catch up with me. Greetings, Miss Striker.” “Cut it, Dunnwood. What were you doing, skulking around in my den at night? What did you take that machine for? You should know it's locked to only my use. Frost will have told you all this, I suppose? ...answer me! Why did you take it?”

“...because Mr Dunn wants to get to know you more... intimately.”

-FMW Ammunition 10.2 LIVE from Tampa, Florida-
Tonight's Card:

Ammunition vs. Corruption, Gray's Last Chance:
Chris Kelson

Singles Match:
Eric Ares

Singles Match:
Kaoru Hanayama

Ammunition vs. Corruption Singles Match:
Chris Austin

MAIN EVENT, C-4 Championship:
Drew Michaels (c)


-FMW Corruption 10.2 LIVE from Miami, Florida-
Tonight's Card:

Ultraviolent Championship #1 Contender Tournament:
Harley Quint

Singles Match:
Alistair Wolfe

Ultraviolent Championship #1 Contender Tournament:
Mark Johansson

Television Championship:
Seth Omega

MAIN EVENT, Ultraviolent Championship #1 Contender Match:
Harley Quint



-FMW Distortion 10.2 LIVE from Orlando, Florida-
Tonight's Card:

Fatal Four Way Match:
David GS

Singles Match:
Trey Spruance

Singles Match:
Apostasy

Singles Match:
Faith

MAIN EVENT, Unified Tag Team Championship Tables, Ladders, and Chairs Match:
Crash Scene (Skyler Striker and Leon Caprice) (c)

-FMW Ammunition 10.2 LIVE from Tampa, Florida-
Tonight's Card:

Ammunition vs. Corruption, Gray's Last Chance:
Chris Kelson vs. Gray

Singles Match:
Eric Ares vs. Axel Van Osbourne

Singles Match:
Kaoru Hanayama vs. Nikko Nulthy Nathans

Ammunition vs. Corruption Singles Match:
Chris Austin vs. Romeo

MAIN EVENT, C-4 Championship:
Drew Michaels (c) vs. Abel Steele


-FMW Corruption 10.2 LIVE from Miami, Florida-
Tonight's Card:

Ultraviolent Championship #1 Contender Tournament:
Harley Quint vs. Calvin X. Carter

Singles Match:
Ripper vs. Alistair Wolfe

Ultraviolent Championship #1 Contender Tournament:
Mark Johansson vs. Virus

Television Championship:
PX (c) vs. Seth Omega

MAIN EVENT, Ultraviolent Championship #1 Contender Match:
Harley Quint OR Calvin X. Carter vs. Mark Johansson OR Virus
* ONLY VOTE FOR ONE OF THE FOUR POSSIBLE PARTICIPANTS


-FMW Distortion 10.2 LIVE from Orlando, Florida-
Tonight's Card:

Fatal Four Way Match:
Butters vs. Christian Moore vs. Bryce Thorne vs. David GS

Singles Match:
Trey Spruance vs. Jetstream

Singles Match:
Apostasy vs. MASS Caesar

Singles Match:
Faith vs. Syanide

MAIN EVENT, Unified Tag Team Championship Tables, Ladders, and Chairs Match:
Crash Scene (Skyler Striker and Leon Caprice) (c) vs. Danse Macabre (Damien Inferno and Gabriel Crow) vs. Jack Eastwood and Hannibal Frost

-FMW Ammunition 10.2 LIVE from Tampa, Florida-
Tonight's Card:

Ammunition vs. Corruption, Gray's Last Chance:
Chris Kelson vs. Gray

Singles Match:
Eric Ares vs. Axel Van Osbourne

Singles Match:
Kaoru Hanayama vs. Nikko Nulthy Nathans

Ammunition vs. Corruption Singles Match:
Chris Austin vs. Romeo

MAIN EVENT, C-4 Championship:
Drew Michaels (c) vs. Abel Steele


-FMW Corruption 10.2 LIVE from Miami, Florida-
Tonight's Card:

Ultraviolent Championship #1 Contender Tournament:
Harley Quint vs. Calvin X. Carter

Singles Match:
Ripper vs. Alistair Wolfe

Ultraviolent Championship #1 Contender Tournament:
Mark Johansson vs. Virus

Television Championship:
PX (c) vs. Seth Omega

MAIN EVENT, Ultraviolent Championship #1 Contender Match:
Harley Quint OR Calvin X. Carter vs. Mark Johansson OR Virus
* ONLY VOTE FOR ONE OF THE FOUR POSSIBLE PARTICIPANTS


-FMW Distortion 10.2 LIVE from Orlando, Florida-
Tonight's Card:

Fatal Four Way Match:
Butters vs. Christian Moore vs. Bryce Thorne vs. David GS

Singles Match:
Trey Spruance vs. Jetstream

Singles Match:
Apostasy vs. MASS Caesar

Singles Match:
Faith vs. Syanide

MAIN EVENT, Unified Tag Team Championship Tables, Ladders, and Chairs Match:
Crash Scene (Skyler Striker and Leon Caprice) (c) vs. Danse Macabre (Damien Inferno and Gabriel Crow) vs. Jack Eastwood and Hannibal Frost

LOCKED.

Best of luck to everyone and thanks for participating!