AMMUNITION 16.2 VOTING AND PROMO THREAD

Every once and awhile, it dawns on me. Sometimes it’s when I’m almost asleep at night, and it shines into my closed eyes against my will. Sometimes it’s when I’m on the entrance ramp, and it blazes down from the spotlights, exposing me in front of thousands. Sometimes it’s the darkness that creeps up and illuminates my anxiety. The light can take many forms.

It’s the thing that shows us ourselves. It’s the sudden realization of one of the many unconscious undercurrents in the back of your mind, subtly effecting your every inclination. The light can expose many things, but most of them prefer to work in the shadows. They take to the light like rats, snarling and baring their teeth. They seem so ugly when discovered this way, even if they are perfectly harmless.

Self-discovery is a painful process, is what I’m saying.

My plan was simple enough. Chris Austin surely would see coming my usual bag of tricks, so don’t use them. Instead of the triple dragon suplex, use just one suplex and then deliver a different move. Instead of going for the Burning Hammer, use the finishers I’ve never used before. And for the longest time, it was working. In fact, several times it was working.

But Chris Austin endured it. I had gameplanned him perfectly. I had beaten him at his own game of strategy. But he had beaten me at my game: endurance. That was something I never thought would happen. It was something I had no plan for. There was no more plan to follow after I delivered that Burning Hammer.

The referee wanted to call for the bell, but I knew what it would mean. Controversy… chaos… an unjust champion. All the things that the Full Metal Championship Tournament was supposed to put an end to would perpetuate. So I reached out and robbed myself of something I knew I wanted.

I could hear the announcers shout from ringside about “instant karma”. It was a nice thought… that somehow Chris Austin was getting what was rightfully his after saving Hannibal Frost only a show before. But I couldn’t believe it. There are no magical forces in this world that rely on morality. There is no payback for doing the right thing sometimes. Sometimes the only reward is simply being able to sleep at night.

But that wouldn’t even be my reward for that simple act.

The end of that match is something of a blur for me. One of the last things I can remember is thinking that I hadn’t tried the Cereal Crunch, so I might as well give it a shot. I had thought before the match that I should, under no circumstances, attempt that move which would almost surely be countered by Austin. I was out of untried options. From the many replays, I know what happened next. I looked up with a violent jolt of pain shooting through my shoulder and neck. Premeditated Murder was playing, and Chris Austin was making his way out of the ring. Officials were practically shouting in my face. The lighting rig stared at me from above the ring.

The only thing I could think was that this could have been it. That could have been my only shot at the Full Metal Championship. That could have been my only shot at a big title. This could be the thing that people remember most about me. This could be my career defining moment. And it would end with me be carried off, my arm drooped to the side all useless and heavy. It would end with my bloodied face straining under the pain, straining to stay upright and maintain some sense of dignity.

A light had been shone upon me. All I could do was focus on the shadow it cast, trying to adjust my perception to its brightness.

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

A 20-something brown-haired man sits up in his bed. A t-shirt with “college” written across it, like the one from Animal House, is stained and bathed in the slight glow of the laptop he intently stares at. Suddenly, the song "Kick Out The Jams by The Presidents of the USA" plays. The man produces a cell phone out of his pocket, where the name “Joyce” is displayed. He slides the touchscreen button on the phone to answer it.

Man: You’ve reached the sexy love-making offices of Todd… how may I… assist you?

Joyce: Hey Todd… I’m making my way towards you since I’m headed up your way to visit the parents. Are you busy tonight?

Todd: Not at all. I’ll be glad to see you.

Joyce: Okay then… I’ve got to go since I’m driving… see you soon. Meet you outside of your place in… just a minute.

Todd smiles as he presses the “end call” button. A slightly uneasy feeling washes over his face as he shuts his laptop closed. He quickly throws off his soiled shirt in favor of a freshly laundered polo shirt. He makes his way outside of his apartment and into the elevator down the hall. The scene continues with him exiting into the lobby of his complex, seeing Joyce, a 20-something brunette, getting out of her car just outside of the lobby doors. Todd smiles brightly as he sees his girlfriend coming to visit. Todd quickly walks to the doors and goes to embrace Joyce, who gives a quick, uneasy hug and stops him.

Joyce: Hun… this isn’t a good visit.



Todd’s expression quickly sinks, a sudden realization of what happens next washing over him.

Joyce: I made my way up here to tell you… that I’m breaking up with you.

Todd looks down at the ground, shaking his head. A full minute of silence follows, as Joyce looks uneasily towards Todd.

Todd: … What made you come to this?

Joyce: Ever since we graduated, I’ve been feeling more and more apart from you. I don’t even feel like we’re in a relationship anymore. And I just feel...

Todd: So when you were going on about how much you missed your family and friends, and you neglected to say anything about me… that wasn’t accidental?

Joyce: I’m… I’m sorry Todd. It’s something with me… I just don’t miss people much at all.

Todd looks up, trying to hold back a stern look. He glares at Joyce for a moment, before he looks away, trying not to lash out.

Todd: I knew you were having a hard time… but I chalked that up to the whole long distance thing. I thought that was pretty much par for the course. I wanted to work through it…

Joyce: If you want, we can just take a break or something… maybe if we…

Todd: I… no. I don’t like where that goes. If things change, we’ll address it then…

Joyce: For what it’s worth, I really enjoyed our time together when we were together. It won’t be easy replacing you… but I just can’t make this work 3 hours away from you.

Todd seethes, refusing to look directly at Joyce.

Todd: You’re the one who said you weren’t ready to move in together. I was willing to move to you to make it work… you didn’t let me.

Joyce: I know… there’s nothing you could have done. You’ve been nothing but kind to me… I just can’t do it…

Todd breathes in deep. He swallows and steals a look towards Joyce’s face, which is painted with a look of sorrow.

Todd: I understand…

Joyce: I’m really sorry about all of this…

Todd: Joyce, I’ve been with you for two years. I care about you… and I want what’s best for you, no matter what.

Todd closes his eyes, fighting back tears and rage. Joyce looks down, as if she’s not quite convinced that Todd means what he says.

Joyce: You’ve been a really good friend to me for the past 4 years. I really want you to be a friend for me, but I know that’s going to be difficult…

Todd: I can… we can be friends. I’m not mad at you… I understand. Maybe we shouldn’t talk so much for now, but… I still care

Joyce: That means a lot to me. You’re taking this… really well

Todd: I… I understand. I don’t blame you… you’re being perfectly logical. It’s the right move for you. Maybe it’s best to do it now instead of later… maybe it’ll be less painful.

Joyce: You’re really understanding…

Todd: I try…

Another solid minute of silence ensues. The ex-couple take turns staring at the ground, refusing to make painful eye contact.

Joyce: I… guess that’s really all there is to say… do you… do you want to say anything to me?

Todd: There’s a part of me that wants to say some things that I know I’ll regret…

Joyce: Say them… I won’t mind, I promise…

Todd: No… it’s not going to solve anything. I don’t want to hurt you… I know you’re doing the right thing… I understand that.

Joyce: Well… should I go then?

Todd: Yeah… have a safe drive.

Todd walks off, hanging his head low.

Joyce: Thank you

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

Did you know that those with blue eyes are far more sensitive to light than those with brown eyes? It’s amazing how something as simple as eye color can so profoundly affect our perception. People with lighter eyes simply lack pigment, which brown-eyed folks have. As a result, they tend to do a poor job at filtering out harsh light. People with blue eyes tend to more easily develop eye cancer. Baseball players with blue eyes tend to have significantly lower batting averages during day games.

As a wrestler, I spend so much of my time either in hotel rooms or similarly fluorescently lit arenas. My after-work socialization occurs well after nightfall, and I can sometimes go weeks without properly seeing the sun in its natural habitat. But every so often, usually when traveling from hotel to arena, that sunshine will remind me of how sensitive my blue eyes can be. I can sometimes feel it pain my eyes to be so exposed.

The modern world is amazing. We contrive and construct these amazing rat mazes to keep ourselves sheltered from the outside world. We can lose ourselves in them, and start to forget that the sun even exists. We come to prefer the trappings that we’ve made to the natural world. The sun became scalding hot to me, burning my flesh and searing my eyes. It seems so long ago when I would look forward to that sun warming my bones, allowing me to play outside again. The hot, bright sun was a sign of good things to come, of potential for so many good things.

Without the sun, there would be no life. Humans instinctually know this. The human being deprived of sunlight is often subject to bouts of depression. Instinctually, we have come to crave and want that sun that sometimes fries us. The sun only wanted to give our lives color and warmth. But we have found a way to resent that sun for shining.

The sun never meant to be such a burden.

-----------------------------
The following is a chatlog between Todd and his best friend, Lucas. The lyrics posted with are from The Joy Formidable's "The Greatest Light Is The Greatest Shade", which you should totally listen to by clicking on the song name in quotations there. It kind-of goes with this part of the promo.

Todd: Hey Luke

Lucas: Hi…

Todd: What’s going on in your world

Lucas: Was about to ask the same of you… what happened with Joy?

Todd: Not much to say, really. It’s over.

Lucas: Why? You guys were really good together

Todd: I thought so too… but she didn’t want to keep things going…

Todd: Said she didn’t miss me


Lucas: That’s rough man… are you holding up okay?

Todd: Meh… as well as one could, I suppose. I mean… it sucks… but that’s normal, right?


Lucas: What did you say to her?

Todd: I told her I understood about a billion times…all I could think to say. Didn’t want to say anything I’d regret later…


Lucas: Understood. I’m sorry to hear, man.

Todd: Yeah… it’ll suck less. Just give it some time, right?


Lucas: I thought you guys were going to be together for… ever really. I didn’t see that coming at all.

Todd: I didn’t either. I was thinking about moving in with her, maybe even proposing. We’d discussed kids and shit…


Lucas: Really? And then this?

Todd: Yeah… said she’s been thinking about it for awhile. Just… hadn’t been sure enough to say it until now.


Lucas: That sucks, man.

Todd: Yeah… the suck part is the part where you slowly relive everything, you know?

Lucas: I don’t… remember I’ve never had a girlfriend?

Todd: Right


Todd: Have you ever seen Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind?

Lucas: Love that movie

Todd: So, you know how he is going through that process, he’s slowly reliving all these memories and it’s painful as fuck, but afterwards he sort-of forgets them?

Lucas: Sort-of


Todd: That’s kind-of what it’s like. You spend years building up all these mental associations with someone. So that so many things remind you of them, because it used to make you happy. But now they all just make you remember that you don’t have that anymore.

Lucas: That… sounds about right. Though I thought Carrey ended up really cherishing those memories by the end of that film?

Todd: He did. But that’s sort of the promised happy ending of that movie. It’s a movie, just because it ends happy doesn’t mean your story ends happy.

Lucas: Well that gives me the warm fuzzies


Todd: I don’t know… I’m just kind of up and down, you know? Like I can go for awhile being just regular old happy me. Then, almost randomly, something will remind me. Then I’ll be right back down.

Lucas: I’m sorry, bud. It’ll get better though.


Todd: It’s just a matter of getting through it… I’ll be better eventually.

Lucas: Right.

Todd: Besides, as they say in Full Metal Jacket… I ain’t got time to bleed.

Lucas: lol


Todd: It just sucks is all. I wouldn’t recommend it.

Lucas: Right. So either stay single or… arranged marriage?

Todd: You know… everyone rags on the concept, but some days I can see the appeal

Lucas: Exactly. Though you don’t need it, you’ll find someone. You’re a studly guy and all that jazz

Todd: How very hetero of you to say. I appreciate it.


Lucas: lol… of course, of course

Todd: Honestly, a part of me just wants to put up a profile on OKCupid or PlentyofFish or something. Get back out there, just so I can say I’m moving on.

Lucas: No need to rush it


Todd: Yeah… just would like to get out there. At least be noticed by someone of the opposite sex. Feel less like I might have been dumped for being completely vestigal.


Lucas: That bitch…

Todd: No… don’t do that. She was really nice, she did it for the right reasons. And we have some good memories for sure

Lucas: And then she broke your heart


Todd: She did. But she was even classy about it

Lucas: How so?


Todd: She drove up to see me in person, didn’t do it over text/facebook. She gave me a full explanation, answered all my questions… etc.

Lucas: Well I guess that’s nice of her


Todd: I don’t hate her… I hate the situation a bit, but she’s… she’s right. We can’t make it work if we’re both starting careers 3 hours away.

Lucas: Well, I won’t hate her then. But only because you said she’s still cool.

Todd: Lol thanks


Todd: Yeah… it’s just that I’ve got to get used to the new situation. It’ll come with time.

Lucas: Healing all wounds and whatnot

Todd: Right… just got to stay positive. As much as possible.


Todd: And… still trying to be friends with her. Which is a bit awkward.

Lucas: I’d bet. How can you talk idly with someone you’ve shared a bed with? Who you used to share everything with?

Todd: It’s kind of weird. Like, I used to tell her everything that troubled me. But now the thing that troubles me most is the thing that would be worst to talk to her about. Since, you know, we want to stay friends and all. And I don’t want her to feel bad

Lucas: Afraid of saying the wrong thing?


Todd: A little. Because I do get mad at her, for silly irrational reasons. Like thinking she’s a fucking quitter for not trying to work it out, or that she’s an unmotivated emotionless robot that would rather live with her parents because it’s easier…

Lucas: Woah…

Todd: But… that’s just anger talking. Can’t let that swallow you. And those of the sort of things I’d regret saying. They might make me feel better for a second, but they wouldn’t make it any easier to get over her, and they’d hurt her. And it’d be impossible to be friends… which we both want.

Lucas: Right

Todd: Anyway… got to go. Bedtime. Got work in the morning.

Lucas: Peace.

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

Somehow, I doubt I will win this fight. I had developed this awful want and desire to be Full Metal Champion. But I don’t have anything else for Chris to be surprised by. I don’t have a masterwork gameplan to defeat the current best wrestler in Full Metal Wrestling. It seems almost inevitable that my dream of holding that title should die, my hopes dashed once again.

But slowly, I’m coming to peace with the idea. Because in my life I have noticed something about accolades. I have tried for many things. I have desired many things. When I started training, I wanted to be a Misfit. When I broke into Full Metal Wrestling, I wanted to be television champion. I fought for causes like keeping Ignition alive. I tried to bring down stables like The Pack. I’ve tried for love, and I’ve gone after lust.

The best things in my life to have ever happened simply fell to me. Because there is something to be said for grace. Of course, I don’t mean divine grace, but you should have known that with me being an atheist and all. Theirs is something to be said for being able to endure the harsh light shining down upon you. Not just to endure, but to thrive in its warm embrace.

Some recoil and snarl at the light. They are exposed as ugly and unworthy to the world. Some view the light as a motivation to be boisterous. They use their exposure to further their agenda, their selfish goals always painfully on display. There is something to be said of the third way… my way. To simply swallow down the pain and discomfort. To look towards the light and adjust. To smile, and continue on as normal. To acknowledge it, but not allow it to affect my actions.

The light is not to be feared. Because the light is simply love. Love from one of your fellow humans to another. And it may seem that that light weighs a ton in expectations, but light and love are weightless. Their weight is an illusion created by our own imperfect minds. The day that I can truly believe this… it will be a burden off of my shoulders.

And I will be stronger than ever.

Now, the last promo shoot I did, I was on the verge of coitus with Nicole Hunter. That’s sex for those who don’t read much so while I’d LOVE to tell you all about that, nothing happened. It was consensually written off as a weird once in a blue moon notion. Besides, the only thing that would have happened is that we would have tried the whole friends with benefits fiasco, stopped being friends for a minute. Then we would have made up and started dating.

Yep, just like the movies.

See, real life doesn’t work like that. I look nothing like Justin Timberlake and Nicole doesn’t bear any sort of striking resemblance to Mila Kunis. And if I wanted to fuck her, then I would have probably done it by now.

But she raised a valid point. Dry spells need to end and so I’m going to one of the few places in Canada where you trip and fall into strange.

So lately, I’ve been in Halifax, Nova Scotia. Save for a few weeks back in San Jose with James and Zoey, I’ve spent most of my time in this slut-infested town, hunting for a slump-buster.

Not like that. Those days are behind me now. Ignoramuses.

But oddly enough, it’s not coming along as easily as I’d expect. One, I’ve never considered myself to have “game”. I don’t believe in it. Two, Alex O has probably been spreading rumors about me and three, well that guy may be hit or miss with his FMW effort but he BUSTS HIS ASS for well, ass.

I’m pretty sure outside of Karma, who’s off-limits, he’s nailed about 95 percent of all the available women in Halifax, most of which in booze-addled one-night stands.

To be honest I’m not really trying that hard. For much of my visit in Halifax, I’ve been at the Peddler’s Pub, just watching the hockey games and texting Nicole about whatever I’m doing. I’m honestly having more fun doing that (She was PISSED about what the Kings did to Vancouver), but well… just check out this text chain here from a couple weeks ago:

Oh come on, you have to admit that LA was just better you guys.

Whatever. Fuck the Kings.

Don’t talk about my hometown team, .

You’re from San Jose, don’t be a bandwagon-hopper. Hate those kind of so-called fans.

My birth certificate says I was born in Los Angeles, Nicole. I can show it to you.

Asshole.

You know I’m a San Jose Sharks fan for life, ha-ha.

Yeah... poor guy, LOL. Seriously, you might as well be a Canucks fan.

No thanks, I like the underachievers I support.

Mine are better than yours.

Lies.

Flawed logic here: The team that eliminated yours was swept by the team that eliminated mine. At least we won a game, LOL. Flawed, yes. Illogical, yes. But Chris, it’s time for a change.

This went on for a while and then took some more personal turns. You know; friend stuff or whatever it’s called. Anyway, right now I’m talking to her about the slim pickings in Halifax and she’s telling me to lower my standards.

Me? Lower my standards? My expectations? And I suppose to do that I need to get kicked in the face by some African-American from the Northern U.S. with an eerily-similar-to-Dante anger problem?

LPW is weird. That is all.

Anyway, Nicole says that I should just do what O’Rion does and let my reputation speak for me.

Eh, fine. Then the bartender speaks up.

“Anything else, Christopher?”

“Yeah, Karma. Answer this question for me.”

“What’s up?”

“Why are you off limits?”

“We’ve been over this. You’re bad with women and Dad as well as Uncle Alex would be on your ass, even if I looked at you ‘like that’. So, no.”

“I get all of that but really, this is your loss.”

“I think being placed in a full nelson during fornication as well as having my personal areas referred to as an “oasis” or whatever is a loss I’m more than willing to let someone else have.”

Wow. I’ve told her too much. Either that or she saw my Catalyst 2009 promo shoot.

“Ohhhh… that’s cold, Karma. That’s cold.”

She smirks at me before offering a pity chuckle.

“You did it, I didn’t. Perv.”

“That was one time!”

“Still! Eww.”

“I guess you have a point there. But nah, I’m sure I’m not your type anyway.”

Karma looks toward me, eyebrow cocked up quizzically. She then asks, “What makes you say that?”

“I’m not a chick.”

“WHOA! Just a second, Chris. I don’t know what you’ve heard but no, I’m not into chicks like that.”

“Yet, ha-ha.”

“Get out.”

“You know I’m just playing, Karma. All a part of retaliation for that low blow just then.”

“Fine, we’re even.”

Between me and you, I’m pretty sure she’s going the chick route. I can’t really blame her given her unfortunate past. I can’t confirm anything but I wouldn’t be surprised. Then again I am of the opinion that there is no such thing as a lesbian or a bisexual man.

I’ll put it to you like this. Lesbians, in truth, are bisexual. On the flip side, if a guy takes it up the ass, he’s gay, point blank. I say this because…

I digress. I’ll just keep the details of this debate between me and Nicole. I don’t even remember how we got on that subject the other night but whatever. Anyway, drunk chick at 12 o’clock. Lowering standards commence.

“Thanks for the talk Karma. I trust you’ll find your tip more than enough.”

“Not a problem.”

“Tell Alex O I said hey and that I did it.”

“Sure. Congratulations on that by the way. It’s a shame you won how you did but…”

“Let’s not go there.”

“Fine.”

“Speaking of… is FMW still a big deal around here?”

“There’s been a decline since Alex O all but swore it off but it’s still pretty popular.”

“Noted.”

So I approach this tipsy chick just as her gal-pals disperse for a bathroom break. She looks up to me, struggling to focus. Hmm, she’s not half-bad looking. Cute stomach.

Lower my standards… lower my standards... yeah I can’t do this. Then again, I outstretch my hand, take hers and hope that this long hair of mine helps me out.

“Hi, I’m Alex O’Rion and I’m kind of a big deal.”



Well, here goes. I knock on the door, hoping she’s there. My heartbeat speeds up and breathing becomes a bit more labored. Come on, Nicole. Answer the door.

I knock again, this time saying “Nicole” afterwards. I’ve been watching too much Big Bang Theory but… never mind all of that, she answers the door.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“Do you have anywhere that you need to be right now?”

“Actually, I just finished my patrol shift. So I’ve got some time.”

“Great, because I need to talk to you.”

Her smile immediately becomes a frown, she assumes something is wrong and given that since I entered her abode, I haven’t stopped pacing and I have repeatedly rubbed my hand through my hair.

“Something bothering you?”

“You know, I’ve been in Halifax for the past few days, trying to get out of my funk or whatever, right?”

“Yeah…”

“Well there I am, with this chick right. I’m sure she’s a little buzzed or whatever. The first person was just too drunk but, we hit it off and all of that and we get back to her place...”

“Uh, are you really telling me about your most recent sexual experience because I really don’t want to hear of it, ha-ha.”

No, Nicole. This is something bigger than that, I didn’t even fuck that broad.

“Stuff’s getting physical and next thing I know, she’s talking into the microphone and I’m sitting there thinking… ‘what the hell am I doing?’”

“What the hell does talking into the microphone mean?”

“It’s a euphemism. Think about it…”

“What-OH. Yeah, I got it,” she says as she turns away from the conversation. I don’t blame her for being unsettled by it but really, if there were anyone I’d tell this to, it’d be her. I stop mid-sentence, my pacing intensifies.

“Hey, hey, calm down. So what, you slept with some random woman. Guys do it all the time, why are you so bent out of shape over it?”

“Because it’s not me.”

Nicole turns to face me… Good Lord she has sexy eyes. My fucking God.

“Nicole, lately I’ve found myself really fucking content with life as I know it. Ever since I won the title, I’ve been experimenting with normalcy and I’ve overdone it. But I’ve realized that I don’t like complacency. It’s not me. I want better until I can’t get any better. And to be honest…”

“You aren’t making any sense.”

“…”

“What’s up, Chris?”

“Nicole…”

She looks at me inquisitively. I think she thinks she has an idea of what I’m trying to say. I sigh heavily and look towards her face.

“I think we should date.”

“Chris, we’ve talked about this. Your job, my job… Besides, I really like where our friendship is right now. Not really looking to jeopardize that.”

“I don’t care. We should date.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know, because you’re attractive and you get me like few people ever have?”

“Good reason, yeah but I can’t say that’s really a good idea, Chris. I’m not really sure what you were even thinking about. What would my going out with you even prove?”

I’ll put it to you like this. I thought about telling Nicole about this shit, smack dab in the middle of the aforementioned slump-buster giving me a hummer.

Yep, I left mid-blowjob.

That counts for something right? I mean yeah, I came back and we finished up but I’m saying...

What? The chick knew what she was doing. Don’t judge me.

Although if you really thought I’d leave mid slump-busting you need to be tested. Yes, I had an epiphany but I’m a man and it had been AT LEAST eight months, people. Who in their right mind leaves during a good… no, back to the topic.

“Just one date, Nicole. What do you have to lose?”

“Probably my best friend, for one.”

“That's not happening.”

“Chris,” she says before I enter her personal space. I look at her, she looks at me.

“Nicole…”

She sighs as I look toward her, looking for an answer. In retrospect, I have no idea what I am doing and I haven’t been this nervous since Lethal Injection, but I’m sick of not being happy and somehow I’ve got it in my head that she would make me happy. And if I really feel that way, then I might as well go for it, right?

I could be doing worse.

“Well?”

She maintains a stern look on her face and it suddenly cracks into a laugh.

“You’re an idiot, you know that?”

“So is that a yes?”

“One date?”

“Yeah, just one. You don’t like it, money-back and friend-back guarantee.”

“Fine, one date.”

Greatness Unleashed... Finest at its Best:

There's no holding me back,
I'm not driven by fear, I'm just driven by anger.
And you're under attack,
I'm just climbing up slowly, I'm the one and only, I...

The tease, the ways you lie,
Stumble in your mind.
The fear, the hope inside,
They hit here.

But whatever you need, ever you got, ever you want,
I’ll take it back again.
Whatever you need, ever you got, ever you want,
I’ll take it back again.

John Andrews is seen sitting on a pew and staring at the crucifixion of Christ...

OJA: To think I figured this place would crumble if I ever stepped foot in it again...

Father Mallory: He doesn't judge my son... No matter whom you are or what you've done in life he'll never judge you...

OJA: Jesus! Where the hel... Heck... Did you come from? You can at least warn a brother before you go giving them a heart attack...

Father Mallory: I am sorry... I figured you heard me close the door on my way in... Anyway what can I help you with my son?

OJA: Nothing really Father... Just needed to clear my mind is all... I have been busy with work and have had very little time to myself as of late after losing that bet with them twins.

Father Mallory: Well you've come to the right place lad... There is plenty of tranquility here for one to think and clear his thoughts that is for sure. Tell me my son what is your name?

OJA: John... John Andrews...

Father Mallory: Ah yes I knew I recognized you... I just didn't want to bother you about your profession... You're one of them gladiator fellas correct. The vicious Cowboy who is on a losing streak right...

OJA: Look i've never kicked a Priests ass before but you're coming close Padre...

Father Mallory: That's my point... You're too hostile and so quick and eager to fight someone to prove your worth John... When in reality all I asked was a simple question...

OJA: Everyone goes through these stages... Everyone... From champions to curtain jerkers, we've all had our doubting moments...

Father Mallory: Ah yes... So you've come to a doubting moment with your profession... Interesting... Say five Hail Marys and go fuck yourself...

OJA: Wait just a second here Padre...

Father Mallory: You know what the great thing about being a priest is? You can say or do anything you want and repent your sins at the end of the day and start with a clean slate. You see the Church doesn't necessarily approve of my teachings, I preach with a realist point of view and am not afraid to hold back on both my beliefs in the lord and savior and also the reality of the living.

Father Mallory reaches down and picks up a worn wooden baseball bat and places it in between him and Andrews...

Father Mallory: If you really want to try to kick my ass you can give it a whirl... I was a three time light weight champion before I became a Priest... and practiced some Mixed Martial Arts while in Brazil doing mission work...

OJA: So what's the bat for?

Father Mallory: It's an attention getter... Most people don't expect a priest to pop up with a baseball bat and has the intentions to use it. As i've said Mr. Andrews, I am not like the rest of the sheep I am aware of the crime rates in this city...

OJA: Right... But if you think that little piece of American history is going to save your ass...

The Priest withdrew a gold M1911A1 .45 Pistol from his waist band...

OJA: REALLY... A Priest with a fuckin .45... C'mon now...

Father Mallory: It's actually a lighter but they don't know the difference. All them thieving thugs call me Father Bling... Anyway, I want to help you on your venture... I know it's a big gain in your career I can give you guidance both spiritually and in the ring...

OJA: You are aware I am a wrestler right...

Father Mallory: That's all irrelevant now come with me my son...
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Bold Decisions... Big Statements... The Key to Success...

My Guilt and My Shame always sell me short - always feel the same... And My face and my Soul always wear me thin - always under control... But the longest hours you'll have in your life are the ones you sit through to know if you're right. So I'll wait, but I pray that I'm wrong because I think I know what's going on...

So Let Me Get This Straight... the only will is my own... I do whatever I want and stay alone all my decisions make it untouchable and tainted. I'm gonna suffer for the rest of my life but I will always find a way to survive. I'm not a failure, but I know what it's like I can take it or leave it... or die...

STAY - You don't always know where you stand... 'Til you know that you won't run away... There's something inside me that feels... Like Breathing in Sulfur...

My Life is undone - and I'm a sinner to most but a sage to some and my Gods are Untrue - I'm probably wrong, but I'm better than you. And the longest hours I've had in my life were the ones I went through to know I was right. So I'm safe, but I'm a little outside. I'm gonna laugh when I'm buried alive...

John Andrews and Father Mallory are seen walking towards a fenced in basketball court where several people are playing a game of pick up basketball...

Father Mallory: Your answers lie behind this fence and in that court...

OJA: Again... You do know i'm a wrestler right... Not a god damn basketball player...

Father Mallory punches Andrews in the face...

Father Mallory: Never use the lord's name in vain!... Now... I don't want you to play basketball with them, I want you to challenge them to a fight... In fact... I want you to take on all of them...

OJA: There's six of them...

Father Mallory: What are you yellow? I thought you were Mr. Bad Ass wrestler who is afraid of no one? You're going to let a bunch of punks scare you...

OJA: I'm not going to fight them... They're kids... I can go to jail over that.. Hell that little one with all the pimples looks like he's ten!

Father Mallory: Alright... If you insist on doing this the hard way...

Father Mallory cups his hands to his mouth and yells at the top of his lungs... "HEY YOU SPOOKS!".... Andrews was too shocked at the statement to realize Father Mallory had ducked behind the wall nearby. The kids whom were playing basketball now headed in Andrew's direction...

OJA: Alright... Easy fellas... C'mon Padre tell them it was you...

Father Mallory: (whispers) No... You can handle this... Just remain calm and keep control...

The six youths finally gathered in front of Andrews... The older one held the ball in his hands and rested it on his hip...

Older Youth: What do you mean Spooks... Honky... Why don't you go back to your neighborhood before we kick your redneck inbred ass all over this street.

OJA: There's no need for that... I'll just get on out of here... This is a misunderstanding...

Older Youth: What are you scared... Look at this cracka... He aint even got the balls to stand and fight...

OJA: What'd you say? Andrews moved closer to the older youth...

Older Youth: You heard me... I said you aint got no balls...

Andrews quickly grabbed the basketball and threw it at the older youth's face breaking his nose... Then grabbed him into a rear chokehold...

OJA: You kids just back up... I don't want no trouble...

The group began to move further towards Andrews to get their leader back... Finally they lunged at Andrews and smothered him to the ground... The group of kids is seen running away and Andrews is rolling on the ground yelling into his cell phone...

OJA: OFFICER DOWN... NEED ASSISTANCE...

Father Mallory watches Andrews rolling around placing his pistol lighter back into his waistband...

Father Mallory: That's it... That's all you got? My god man your rolling on the ground like a pompous ass no wonder why you have a losing streak so bad... This is worse than I expected...

Andrews looks around...

OJA: I had'em coach...

Father Mallory: Sure you did... Now dust your sorry carcass off I have another place to take you too... and for Pete's sake give me that damn phone...
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Youth Gone Wild

Since I was born they couldn't hold me down... Another misfit kid, another burned-out town... I never played by the rules and I never really cared. My nasty reputation takes me everywhere... Well I look and see it's not only me. So many others have stood where I stand. We are the young so raise your hands.

They call us problem child... We spend our lives on trial... We walk an endless mile... We are the youth gone wild... We stand and we won't fall... We're one and one for all... The writing's on the wall... We are the youth gone wild...

The Mega Mall - Food Court
Officer's Andrews and Sheldon

Security Officer Sheldon: Well what we have here is a standard investigation on a complaint we received from dispatch... Someone reported seeing someone steal one from the Casual Attire Store and was last seen heading in this direction so we'll just wait here to see if we can see him.

OJA: Yep... Standard procedure indeed... Wait... Did you just see that! That kids got a Tipman!

The paintballer takes aim at the golf cart and begins firing a barrage of paintballs as both Security Guards dive out for cover...

OJA: This is Unit 4-5... We've got an armed tween with a paintball gun in the Food Court... Sheldon is down! Repeat Sheldon is down!....

Security Officer Sheldon: Jesus... The little bastard froze them... I don't think i'm going to make it...

OJA: Don't say that Bro... You just hang in there... I'm going to move around and flank him...

The paintballer turns and begins shooting at a Subway sign...

Security Officer Sheldon: Be-careful man... He's packing some serious fire power!

Andrews slowly rises and rolls to a nearby trash can... Out of no where a man wearing a black robe tackles the random paintballer causing Andrews and Sheldon to look at each other then run towards both individuals...

OJA: Good job courageous citizen however you should have let a trained professional handle this situation...

Security Officer Sheldon: Yo man... That was a kick ass spear... Kinda like Goldberg on a...

OJA: Jesus Christ Sheldon... What have I told you about...

The individual whom tackled the kid with the paintball gun suddenly punches Andrews in the mouth...

Father Mallory: What'd I tell you about using the Lord's name in vain...*sighs*

OJA: Father Mallory... What are you doing here?... Why the hell do you keep punching me...

Father Mallory: Cause you don't pay attention... While you were over there giving Shirley Temple here his last rights I had to step in and take care your dirty work... Security my Irish ass...

Security Officer Sheldon: Hey... It's Sheldon not Shirley!

Father Mallory: Ah close enough... Anyway you... *points at Andrews* You should be ashamed to call yourself a number one contender for that title. First you let a bag of pussies kick your ass and now your hiding behind a trash can...

OJA: Hey... I was going to flank him... You know come up on his side... Hit him where he wouldn't expect it coming...

Father Mallory: I know what a flank is kid... I was in Nam for Christ's sake... Look walk with me John...

Andrews and Father Mallory walk away from the scene as on-lookers take pictures of the tackled kid...

Father Mallory: Look we've got to get you back up to par otherwise you're going to get slaughtered... You need to drop this bumbling idiot act and get back in the game... I know there's some fight left in ya kid... Let it out... Use it...

OJA: I don't know... Just not feeling it ya know...

Father Mallory: Not feeling it?... Not feeling it???

Father Mallory leaned back and punched Andrews in the mouth again...

OJA: Will you stop that already?! God Da....

Father Mallory began pulling his fist back then grinned...

Father Mallory: See now you're learning kid... Take this card and be at the Victory Gym tonight at seven... The one off of Lincoln Avenue... There will be a guy named Mike there he'll run you through some drills. One other thing, I know you lost a bet to them twins but whatever you do... Don't let them ruin your training regiment no matter how tempting they may make things for you...

Andrews took the card and nodded...
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Life in Hell... Week Two with the Braxton Twins... A True Outlaw Story:

Wish I'd died instead of lived... A zombie hides my face... Shell forgotten, with its memories,
Diaries left with cryptic entries... And you don't need to bother; I don't need to be. I'll keep slipping farther...
But once I hold on, I won't let go 'til it bleeds. You don't need to bother; I don't need to be. I'll keep slipping farther... But once I hold on: I'll never live down my deceit

Dear Journal,

Another day in hell... I mean another day playing Manservant for the Braxtons... Self clinical and probably certifiable little bitches, hot mind you, but still bitches. This gig has its perks though let me tell you, while they seem bad on the outside... I have noted one weakness that the Braxtons hold and value... This weakness is yet to fully be discovered but there have been times where they'd get phone calls and suddenly disappear to their "lair".

There has been thoughts of crossing over to the other side... or just... giving in completely... However I have been learning a lot about these odd creatures. I had to lock myself in my quarters the first week, for some odd reason they expressed odd emotional outbursts and specifically requested ice cream and chocolate and continued watching cheesy romantic movies with Sandra Bullock and Julia Roberts. I watched from behind the couch wearing my Kevlar and eating a bag of popcorn from my riot helmet... The movie was surprisingly good until Sage began to twitch and I swear her head spun around like that dang ol' chick in the Exorcist... Soon as she saw me camped out in my pajamas and Kevlar her eyes went instant red and I was forced to retreat.

While the battle may have been lost... I have thus begun a series of psychological warfare experiments by posting pictures of a scantly clad Trish Stratus throughout their residence... Even going as far as having a party while they were away during a photo shoot. I think they've began to catch on about the parties during their outings therefore I had to cut it off... In closing, I have began storing an arsenal of supplies in my quarters and have built a fort out of an old couch and love seat... This is John Andrews writing from deep... deep... behind enemy lines... If you're reading this... You are the resistance...
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Re-Birth... Re-Born... an Age of Greatness...:

Watching the time go and feeling belief grow
Rise above the obstacles
People beseech me but they'll never teach me
Things that I already know

Dreams that have shattered may not have mattered
Take another point of view
Doubts will arise though like chasing a rainbow
I can tell a thing or two

You've got to believe in yourself or no one
Will believe in you
Imagination like a bird on the wing
Flying, free for you to use

I can't believe they stop and stare
And point their fingers doubting me
Their disbelief suppresses them
But they're not blind it's just that they won't see

I'm a believer, I ain't no deceiver
Mountains move before my eyes
Destiny planned out I don't need no handout
Speculation of the wise

Andrews is seen walking into the gym Father Mallory told him to visit... He began asking around for the guy named "Mike" and was surprised when everyone pointed him towards a medium sized old man whom was teaching a group of students hip tosses.

OJA: Excuse me are you Mike?

The man in the ring turned and looked very agitated at the interruption of his class then turned and spoke to Andrews in a very thick Russian accent...

"Mike": The name is Mika... Why do you interrupt my training session? You think because your wrestler you have super ego status no?

OJA: Look here comrade I was sent here to find you...

"Mike": I only know of one person whom would send you... Get in here... Class ten minute water break... take notes... Step into my office will you not?

Andrews reluctantly entered the ring and was immediately thrown to the ground with a simple arm drag...

"Mike": Pathetic excuse for a wrestler... AGAIN!

Andrews again set up for the arm drag... This time Mika held on and placed him in an arm bar...

"Mike": Let's see you get out of this American pig...

Andrews began to rise with the old man holding onto his arm refusing to let go... finally after further taunting Andrews rolled towards the old man throwing him off balance in attempt to gain the upper hand, the old man released the arm bar and went for a rear choke...

"Mike": Good... Fast aggression... Stay on attack... Very good...

Andrews countered the choke and placed Mika into a rear choke of his own...

"Mike": Great counter... One mistake...

Using Andrew's weight against him, Mika slid up and then suddenly dropped to his knees delivering a devastating jaw breaker which knocked Andrews out cold...

Several hours later Andrews awoke and the gym was empty... "Back here" a voice said quietly... Andrews shook his head trying to get his bearings and stood to walk towards the voice

"Mike": You did very good Mr. Andrews but you held back... You cannot hold back in this sport... You see even in training I still remain in gimmick. I am really from the streets of Brooklyn but if you didn't know any better you'd figure I was fresh off the boat from Moscow. If you want to be the best I can teach you... But you must want it Mr. Andrews, you cannot hold back... You must go with the flow...

OJA: Alright, well what do I have to lose right? Sure i'll take your help...

"Mike": Wise decision Mr. Andrews... Besides Father Mallory told me to book you on my card against one of my pupils... He is a vicious one. Dimitri is in fact from Stalingrad... I've trained him since the age of sixteen and he has excelled at everything. You will face him... If you don't bring your A-Game he will devour your soul...

OJA: Understood... Any stipulations?

"Mike": Survive Mr. Andrews... Just survive...
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A single spotlight shines down on a polished wooden stage, illuminating the red velvet curtains emblazoned with the broken crown symbol of Jonathon King. The man himself stands in the spotlight, his suit draped perfectly over his sculpted body, raising a microphone to his lips.

King: Ladies and gentlemen, last time most of you saw me, my father had recently passed away. This was a traumatic and emotional time for me, and I such avoided filming it. The proceedings with his will were finalized, his funeral held without incident, and I'm ready to refocus on my career. For those of you expecting an emotional trying time to be filmed for you amusement, I'm afraid you will be disappointed, as one of the few virtues my father passed to me was the ability to, as the British say, keep calm and carry on.

Pausing momentarily, King pulls a handkerchief out of his coat pocket and dabs his forehead before replacing it.

King: While I am under control, I must confess some feelings of anger. I'm sure you can guess the targets of my ire, the two men responsible for me losing my championship, P. Thurston Devreaux and Jimmy Ice.

As he says the names, his knuckles start to turn ashy white as his hand tightens around the microphone.

King: While Mr. Ice may have conspired to steal my championship, I cannot help but feel some level of respect for him. The underhanded mindset required to assault a man with his back turned, and then to maintain a hold long after the man tapped is a particularly vicious one to say the least. I'm almost impressed. No, my major complaint is with that pansy-ass faggot Devreaux. You see, while my methods were questionable at best, the fact remains that I retained my title. Your underhanded shenanigans are growing old, P. You've tried your damnedest to stop GSW from gaining a foothold, and you'd been so successful, you grew desperate when we started winning. Then, instead of giving me the rematch I deserve, you give it to John Andrews! I won't forget this Devreaux, and you'll pay for it!

Seething, King breathes heavily, his nostrils flaring as he tries to calm himself down. He starts pacing,slowly regaining his composure until he brings himself back to his former position. Once again he wipes off his forehead with the handkerchief before replacing it and raising the microphone.

King: Now then, onto my opponent this week. Since Devreaux thinks it's in FMW's best interests to take away my rematch, he decided to give me a match against Hannibal Frost instead. Some filler before his C4 title match I believe, unfortunately I don't plan on just laying down. I know Frost doesn't view me as a threat, nor should he. My record is embarassing, my failures almost legendary. I'm coming off a loss to a rookie so green that he pisses grass and my associates have done little but fail since before I joined the company. On paper, I'm the perfect jobber, with my Television Championship giving me just enough credibility to make for some hype.

His voices fades slowly as the smile falls from his face, leaving him staring off into the destance, as though weighing his options. After a few moments of contemplation, the smile is quickly replaced and he falls back into his speech.

King: In reality? You taking a man who is not far removed from his Full Metal Championship run, about to head into a C4 title match, with momentum and fan support behind him and throwing him a man with nothing left. My money all but gone, my fans non-existent, my momentum stalled and my title taken away, there is literally nothing this company can take away from me. I don't even have my pride after I tapped out to a pathetic weakling like Jimmy Ice. It's a classic scenario, the man with nothing to gain against the man with nothing to lose. If Frost wins nothing changes, but if I win, it will do so much. I'll get some serious momentum, a victory over a former Full Metal Champion, and most importantly, credibility. It will be a big step towards being a major player in this company, a step I desperately need to take.

King reaches into a pocket of his coat and removes a Zippo lighter, playing with it as he continues his speech.

King: Tonight is my night, I have to make my statement. Tonight I'll leave Frost lying in a pool of his own blood and walk away with my head held high. Tonight the King returns, and Full Metal Wrestling will burn.

Flicking the lighter open, King lights it and drops it on the curtains. The curtains catch and the fire spreads quickly, consuming the logo and spreading to the stage. In the middle of everything, King stands unmoving, just laughing.


In a small gym, King is working over a hanging punching bag. A series of punches ends in a roundhouse kick, shaking the entire stand as mocking applause comes from the doorway. King turns and sees a man almost seven feet tall enter, a pair of title belts hanging over his shoulders as he drops his bag on the ground. He carefully lays the titles down on top of it and starts taping his wrists.

King: You got a problem with me?

Man: Just a bit. You're an egotistical fucker and I hate you.

King: Care to be more specific? There are a lot of guys who feel like that about me.

Man: I broke your collarbone, then had a bout of psychosis where I beat the ever-loving crap out of you until Tiny tazed me.

King: Oh. Hello Azreal.

Man: Please, call me Alex.

King: Alright Alex, I can't help but notice the title belts you brought in.

Alex: Like 'em? Tag Team Championships, pretty cool if I do say so myself.

King: Last time we met, you were the TV Champion. How'd that go?

Alex: I'm not anymore, that should tell you everything you need to know.

King: Yeah, I know how you feel. I lost mine last show.

Alex: Sucks, don't it?

King: Yeah, but like Dad always said, keep calm and carry on.

Alex: Smart man.

King: Yeah, I came to talk to Tiny, maybe get my head back in the game, but he's AWOL.

Alex: Yeah, he moved to Tahiti last I heard. Stubborn old bastard's probably sitting on a beach with naked bitches everywhere.

King: Sounds like my Saturday nights.

Alex: Yeah, but it sounds to me like you've got some problems and no one to talk to about them.

King: Doesn't everyone?

Alex: Yeah, but most people aren't in the middle of a conversation with a guy who has a degree in psychology.

King: So you go from breaking my collarbone to offering to be a therapist?

Alex: What can I say, I make fast friends. Besides, you need help, I can tell that much already.

King: I probably do, but I'm no therapy baby, and I'll keep my problems to myself.

Alex: Fair enough, but more to the point, I think you need a work-out. Let's see if you can keep up with me.

Climbing into the ring, Alex pops his neck and waits for King to jump in. Shaking hands, the two men start trading punches and kicks, each laying into the other several times before the camera fades out.


Jonathon King is relaxing at a dance club with the rest of GSW, one arm around each of the Braxton twins as the bartender brings them all their drinks. King goes to take a drink when Crusoe calls for attention.

Crusoe: Boys and girls, we've had a tough road recently, but we aren't without victories. Let's hear it for our new Ultraviolent Champion, Jeff!

The men applaud politely as Santana gives Jeff a quick kiss on the cheek before returning to King.

Whitt: Thanks guys, that means a lot. I just want you guys to know, that we aren't nearly done yet. I drew the first blood, and now we all have to cut FMW down to size. I know we can do it, but King-

Crusoe: Don't start, lads.

King: No, no. Please, let him continue.

Whitt: Fact is King, you lost. You hurt GSW's image by losing to a punk-ass little rookie. You're a disgrace!

King excuses himself from the Braxtons and stands, getting in Whitt's face as the rest of the group prepares for a fight.

King: Jeff, when you, Dunn and that imposter Jensen that YOU picked were lying on your backs every single show, who was the one that brought home GSW's first title? Who successfully retained their title twice before losing it thanks to corrupt management? You can call me a disgrace all you want, bitch, but without me your little group would never have gotten off the ground.

Whitt: You ungrateful little!

Jeff lunges forward, but gets caught by Crusoe, who pulls him back into his seat. King finishes off his drink and kisses one of the Braxtons before looking at the others.

King: I'd have preferred a toast to our lovely new companions, honestly. They cause fewer problems. And speaking of problems, I have a bone to pick.

Whitt: Surprise, surprise.

King: When I went out to defend my title, I did it alone. I can understand that, proving a point and all, but when Devreaux restarted the match, where were you? When Ice attacked me from behind, where were my teammates? When he continued his assault after the match ended, why did no one come to help? We're supposed to be a team, but why should I help people who don't help me in return?

Sage: We'd help you, honey!

Santana: Anytime you need us!

King: I know, ladies. I'm more curious about you, Levi.

Leviticus: I was distracted.

King: I'm sure, you've been distracted a lot recently.

Leviticus: I have a lot to think about.

King: I bet, but next time, wait to think about things until your teammates are safe.

Crusoe: You're an ungrateful little bastard, King.

King: Yup, but consider this my warning. If you guys can't work as a team, I'll go off on my own. I can't do any worse out there. Now then ladies, we have a dinner reservation?

King and the Braxtons walk away, leaving the rest of the group either fuming or thinking quietly.

Leviticus: He'll be fine.

Crusoe: You sure?

Leviticus: Yeah, his dad just died, and whether or not he liked him, it's got to be hard.

Crusoe: Lets hope he gets over it fast, Frost is no one to take lightly.

Corruption 16.1...

Walking with a huge sense of pride and true euphoria, Prideman bounced through the corridors after The Pack's win. Eastwood followed behind, a smile on his face, basking in his protégés happiness.

Prideman: I told you to have faith in me Jack. I said we were good enough!

Although it had been months since he had been involved in a victory, Eastwood didn't share Prideman's enthusiasm. This was a man with more than wins and losses on his mind.

Prideman: You're happy right? This is great! Nothing will stop us now Jack. We're headed straight to the top now. That's what you said.

As they entered their locker room a wry smile appeared on Jack's face. He had to mask his real feelings.

Eastwood: Of course we are mate. One win and now we're on a roll. Beer?

Opening the cooler, Jack pulled out two cans of Crest, cracked one open for himself and chucked the other into Prideman's grateful hands.

Prideman: Why does alcohol always go down so much better when you earn it through hard work?

Jack sat stoically across from Prideman. Prideman had never seen Jack so quiet and thoughtful during the tenure of their friendship. He'd always been so loud, destructive. Always acting on a whim.

Prideman: You're alright, yeah mate?

Eastwood: Yeah, yeah of course I am. Wanna hit a bar?

Prideman: Yes! Now this is the Jack I know and love!

Eastwood: Love? Fucking poof.

Daniel laughed off Eastwood's joke. It was nice for Jack to be showing signs of his normal self.

Prideman: You know what I mean! Let me grab a shower and we'll party all night!!!

1 hour later...

The Pack strode into the Envy nightclub, suited up led by their leader Jack Eastwood. As Prideman passed girls he spanked their behinds and winked as they looked at him. The confidence was oozing out of him. A man changed by success... pushing through the crowds at the bar Prideman reached over, grabbing drinks before making his way to the VIP area, staring out bouncers as he pushed through.

Prideman: We haven't booked, but we're the biggest stars this place will ever see. Keep the drinks coming. We'll sort a deal out in the morning.

Eastwood looked at Prideman. He followed behind, seemingly happy to see the usually shy and reserved Prideman taking a lead and showing confidence.

Eastwood: Hey Daniel! You seen my mate? He loves nature programs, very quiet? 'Cause all I see is a beast tonight! Where'd this confidence come from? I like it.

Prideman swelled with happiness. Hearing that he was impressing Jack built his confidence. Eastwood was a role model; Prideman wanted to live this life.

Prideman: I dunno man. Just the win. It's got to be celebrated.

Prideman popped the cork from the huge champagne bottle he'd grabbed before downing half of it.

Prideman: Tonight Eastwood, I'll drink you under the table! I'll be needed subtitles by the time this night is over!

Eastwood: That fucked up? Think I can manage to help you with that. Take these and pop a couple.

In a small plastic bag, Eastwood slid across a few ecstasy pills to Prideman. Prideman looked at the bag cautiously; he had avoided drugs apart from weed up to this point. But with his new devil-may-care attitude Prideman opened the bag and took two pills, washed down with more champagne.

Prideman: We have booze, drugs and music. You know what we need now? Women! Hold on.

Prideman got up, swagger starting to be replaced by more of a stumble, out of the VIP area and onto the dance floor. Jack sat waiting. After five minutes, he decided he needed to find Prideman. Even he shouldn't take more than five minutes to get some girls into the VIP section for free drinks. Popping his head out of the VIP area he spotted Prideman. A 6'4”, 300-odd pound man was always going to stand out in a crowd. His shirt was unbuttoned, tie still fastened and his jacket still on as he fist-pumped to whatever thumping beat was currently playing. Jack had to admit, he was somewhat impressed as Prideman was surrounded by at least a dozen very good-looking women. Jack made his way over.

Eastwood: Ladies, I see you've met my friend. Would you like to join us in the VIP area? We have free drink flowing all night.

Gesturing the way, the women went towards the VIP area. Jack put his arm round Prideman.

Eastwood: Come on mate! More drink!

Another hour passes...

Looking past the 34DD breasts that had decided to straddle him, Jack's smile had returned; a drunk mind was seemingly a clearer mind. Prideman was continuing to polish drinks off, mostly off the bodies of girls who were flocking to him on this night.

Eastwood: Okay. This was a pretty great idea Daniel. Thanks fro dragging me out.

Prideman: Dasss ekeee. Tghesse ghjirrrrlaa arrrew hhptpptoot. Craaacvkgiing tiittds. (That's okay. These girls are hot. Cracking tits.)

Eastwood's head tilted back as he laughed at Prideman.

Eastwood: Oh my fucking God. You actually do need subtitles! This is hilarious!

Prideman looked up from between the thighs of a girl who's “lower midriff” he'd just drank a shot from.

Prideman: trgyhffejis isdbd thrredfv bfgveswdrsdtt nnjihght efvcderr! (This is the best night ever!)

Eastwood: Let's get of here now. Take this back to the Asylum. Ladies.

He gestures towards the exit.

Prideman: (Regaining some composure) I'll catch up.

Outside the club...

Prideman and one of the girls stumble out a side door into a back alley. She is clinging onto his arm. He looked at her. Brunette, slim, with a dress that was more off than it was on. He grabbed her tightly and pulled her close.

Prideman: Come on then sweetheart. Right here.

Girl: No, no. Let's go back to yours. Meet up with everyone else.

Something came over Prideman. He wanted this girl right now. Whether she liked it or not.

Prideman: No! You take our free drinks all night, you owe me this. You little slut.

He ripped at her dress and pulled it straight off.

Prideman: Now get on your fucking knees and bow to me. I deserve this.

The girl was shaking, but fearfully she did as she was told. She started to unfasten his belt, and then his trousers. Prideman grabbed her by the hair and pulled her back up. Forcing her against the wall he kissed her neck.

Prideman: Be quiet. Don't make a noise.

He pulled her bra off and then ripped her knickers down. She was completely naked in front of him. He towered over her. Running his hand down her body he pulled her hair tighter. She was completely under his control.

Prideman: You're going to fucking love this.

He paused, shaking his head. He wasn't sure what it was, but it was as if the clouds over his judgement had disappeared.

Prideman: I'm so sorry. Here take this,

Prideman took off his jacket and wrapped her in it.

Prideman: There's two hundred in the pocket. Get yourself home safely.

Without saying another word she turned and sprinted away into the night.

The next morning...

Walking past Prideman's room. Jack could hear the familiar sounds of nature programs. “He did make it home then,” Jack thought. Popping his head in he surveyed the scene. The floor was covered in empty bottles, cans and clothes were strewn everywhere. On the bed laid Prideman, awake, watching the television. He was completely naked and covering his modesty were three blondes.

Eastwood: Wow... mad night.

Prideman looked up, his eyes were puffy and red. He was horrendously hungover.

Prideman: Tell me about it.

|



I woke up around nine-thirty, facing the window. It was bright outside, and birds were chirping and all that good stuff. Aside from the fact it was nine-thirty in the morning, at least. I looked on my nightstand to see my pack of Camel Menthols and my green lighter. Good, right where I left them. I sat up and grabbed the pack, then flipped open the lid and grabbed a smoke. Three left, and I just got this yesterday. Time to go buy another pack. I crushed the little ball in the filter to make it more mentholated and then I lit up.

I brought the cigarette to my lips and inhaled. I looked over to my left and saw Jazmin still sound asleep.

Jazmin’s my girlfriend. She’s five feet, five inches, brunette, and Mexican. It’s a blessing and a curse sometimes. She’s great; she’s pretty and beautiful all the time, and a total bitch most of the time, and a great fuck some of the time. There’s a nice trade-off though, I get a hot broad to show off, and her parents take great care of me. Plus, Mexican food is great, and she always makes it. Works for me.

I debated on waking her up and asking if she’d like to share this smoke with me, but she needs her sleep, and I need my ears protected from her incessant morning rambling.

I got out of bed and took my Samsung Galaxy cell phone off of the charger. I had three texts: One from Tyler, a douche bag that we hang out with because he doesn’t have any other friends. One from “Matt Danielson“, some 12 year old kid who is my “biggest fan”. He’s a nimrod and I’m not quite sure how he got my number. And one from an FMW agent. The agent’s message asked if I would for sure be at the show tomorrow. I replied with a simple sarcastic “Maybe.”

I think I should buy Tyler a puppy.

I slipped the phone into a pocket in my shorts, and proceeded to leave the room and went downstairs.

As I was walking downstairs, I was admiring the pictures of myself hanging on the walls on either side of the stairway, as I do every morning. It’s a routine. It allows me to remind myself how great I am and how everyone else should bow before me. Much like Matthew Dunn will fairly soon. Once I got to the bottom of the stairs, my phone began vibrating. I have this system, you see, where if my phone only rings twice, it’s a text. Too bad it rang three times, meaning someone decided to call me. Lovely.

I slid the “Answer” tab over.

“What?” I impolitely asked.

“Sean, this is Edwin, an agent from FMW. Did you get my text?”

“I could’ve sworn I responded, so I guess, logically, that means I did.” What a moron this guy is. Seeing as I sent a text back, logic points to yes, I did get his.

“Can I count on you to show up this time?” He condescendingly asked.

“For the love of God, yes. Yes I will be there. Can you quit bothering me? It’s almost ten in the morning and I usually don’t wake up until noon. That’s a whole extra two hours that I could be sleeping, and you’re just eating that time.”

I wasn’t tired, I just woke up and had some time to get moving. I just really, really don’t like talking to people who sound like they’re missing brain cells.

“Good! Just checking. Enjoy your morning, Sean!” He wasn’t phased. Wow.

“Edwin?” I curiously asked.

“Yes?” He responded.

“Shut up and don’t ever contact me again. I don’t work for you. You’re not my boss. You’re an agent. So go away.”


“Well, it’s my job to make sur-”

I hung up on him.

I walked into the kitchen to make myself breakfast. I opened the refrigerator door and by this point, my cigarette was almost gone. We have an ashtray on the kitchen counter, so I put out my mentholated cancer. I turned my attention back to the fridge and began rummaging through the cold entryway to gluttony. After a few minutes of searching, I finally found the holy grail. The most important part of any breakfast…

Vodka.

Okay, maybe it’s not the most important part of any breakfast. I’ll correct myself. It’s the most important part of any meal.

Hopefully, Jazmin doesn’t wake up to see me drinking. You see, when I left LPW I ended up going into Alcoholics Anonymous simply because I was bored and had nothing else better to do. If she saw me drinking this early in the morning, I’d have to attempt to stomach her famous rants about shit nobody cares about. She’s relentless. She goes over the same sentence over and over and contradicts herself so many times, it’s hilarious.

I twisted off the cap and tossed it aside. Thought about grabbing a Monster or a Dr. Pepper, but that’s dessert. So I started chugging the vodka, and it didn’t phase me. I took my phone out of my pocket again and started playing Angry Birds Space. It’s addictive. I played for about a half hour, and then I started getting dizzy.

***

It felt like hours until Jazmin woke up and came downstairs, but she finally did. She didn’t seem to notice I was drunk. She would be pretty pissed off if she knew I’ve been drinking after I’ve been to A.A. She looks like she’d like to engage in conversation. Fuck…I’m gonna have to tune out as usual and probably get asked if I was paying attention.

“How long have you been up?” She asked.

“Few hours. I think.” I replied, attempting to cover my drunkeness up. I didn’t hear myself slur or anything. I’m good at this.

“Why didn’t you wake me up?” She asked. Shit, shit, shit. This is going downhill fast.

“What time is it?” I asked, trying to find a loophole to get out of this.

“One-thirty.” She responded. She still doesn’t seem to notice.

“I didn’t wake you up because I knew that you have a twelve hour shift today, and I wanted you to get all the rest you needed.” God, I’m brilliant.

“That’s so sweet of you! Thank you! I suppose I should go get ready. What are you going to be doing today?”

I’m still in the clear.

“Oh, I’m probably going to hit the gym. You know, I’m returning to the ring in FMW tomorrow against Matt Dunn and all.”

I noticed the vodka bottle was on the floor right next to my feet. Hopefully she didn’t notice that. I stood up and grabbed my hoodie from the couch and put it on halfway.

“Eh, I was going to go right now but I decided maybe I should have some breakfast.” I said, while taking the hoodie off and then casually dropping it over the vodka bottle.

“Well, go any time you’d like honey.”

She laughed. She didn’t notice. I’d breathe a sigh of relief, but she’s fairly close to me right now. She wants a kiss before she goes to get ready. Shit, what should I do? I looked around and saw day old onion rings that someone left on the table. I quickly reached over and grabbed a handful and shoved them into my mouth and chewed.

“Gimmie a kiss baby!” I said.

“Haha, I’ll give you one on the cheek. You know about onions and bad breath.”

Success!

She gave me a peck on the cheek, and then I realized that I might reek of alcohol. She didn’t notice. Today’s my lucky day.

She went upstairs to shower, and I finally took that sigh of relief. I got up and took my hoodie off of the bottle and went back to the fridge to put it back. As I walked by a mirror we have in the kitchen, I saw my reflection. The thing is, my reflection was smiling, and even though I was pretty much drunk, I knew I wasn’t smiling.

“Well, well. You’re still having the same problems you did while you were in LPW.” My reflection said.

“What are you doing here, Daemon?” I asked it.

Daemon was a person I had the “privilege” of meeting last year near the end of my LPW run. Actually, I’m not sure if he was really a person at all. Judging by the fact that nobody else can see him, and he’s in the goddamn mirror.

“Just dropping by to watch the downward spiral that is your life. It’s been awhile since we last met, hasn’t it?” He asked.

“Not long enough.” I said. “I thought I got rid of you?”

“I saw that you left LPW to pursue a stint in A.A. I couldn’t pay you a visit if you weren’t drunk. That’s not how the incapacitated imagination works.”

Well, that explains a lot. I see him when I’m drunk.

“Why do you even bother me?”

“I’ve told you before. I’m always aware of your activities. Look at me, I’m you for crying out loud. I’m your conscience, I’m here to try to make sure you curb your drinking habits.”

“Don’t bullshit me, Daemon.”

“Ah, you caught me. Well, the truth is, that is what I’m supposed to be doing, but honestly, I don’t feel like stopping you anymore. On the contrary. I’d rather just watch you destroy yourself.”

“But if I destroy myself, you’ll be gone too.”

He doesn’t really think about consequences.

“Not necessarily, Sean. You see, when you start to lose control of yourself, I’ll be there in your place.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”

I started getting very angry.

“Hmm, I think when the time comes, I’ll be able to give you a hands on explanation. You look tense, Sean. You should relax. Go have another drink.”

I can see where this is going.

“No.” I said firmly.

“But why, Sean? You’re obviously agitated, and you’ve got a big match over at your new playground against someone who is very well known. You really should go relax.” He began chuckling.

“You really suck at trying to control me. If you are indeed me, shouldn’t you be able to, I don’t know, have a little more power?”

Checkmate, bitch.

“Explain something to me, Sean. You went to Alcoholics Anonymous for a few months, with nary a drop of alcohol during that time. And suddenly, here you are, drunk as a homeless man and talking to yourself in the mirror. How did that happen?”

I glared a hole right through his forehead.

“That’s where I come in. So your tiny little speech about ‘power’ is moot. I have all the power and control I want, I just choose to use it against you when I require some…amusement.”

Without a word, I cocked my right arm back, clenched a fist, and drove it through the mirror. It shattered into a million pieces, and I heard Daemon’s voice again.

“You really shouldn’t have done that, Sean. Seven years of bad luck!”

I began breathing heavily, and I looked at my fist. The glass cut up my knuckles pretty badly. I heard stomping coming down the stairs as if someone was running away from a fire.

“WHAT WAS THAT!?” Jazmin exclaimed.

“Nothing, the mirror just fell. I must not have secured it on the wall good enough.”

Nice save.

“Can you clean up the glass, please? I’m still getting ready.”

“Sure thing, babe.”

She went back upstairs and I went straight to the fridge and pulled out the vodka again. Unscrewed the lid, put the opening of the bottle to my lips, and took a big gulp. I went over to the closet that we store our brooms, mops and such and pulled out a broom and dust pan. Then I went over to the shards, and started cleaning them up.

“Fuck you, Daemon.” I muttered under my breath.

It’s going to be a long day, and I’m most likely not going to be able to get to the gym and prepare for tomorrow.

Prideman: I told you to have faith in me Jack. I said we were good enough!

Keeping pace a step behind his associate, Jack watches as Daniel moves through the arena's twisting corridors towards The Pack's locker room, black eyes never flitting from watching the younger man's movements. Of course they had won. It was to be expected. That was all part of the plan.

What was not part of the plan was some idiot with a razor bursting in afterwards to steal their thunder. Not that Daniel cared; he was too concerned with his own success. Eastwood's mind wandered as Prideman spoke.

Prideman: -to the top now. That's what you said.

Jack forces himself to grin, though it made him feel sick.

Eastwood: Of course we are mate. One win and now we're on a roll. Beer?

He knew what the answer would be, so he starts to move before he'd even finished speaking, grabbing the cans and tossing one in Daniel's general direction. He sat down, cracking open the tin of Crest wordlessly, pondering.



Prideman: You're alright, yeah mate?

Jack looks up. He wasn't even aware he had been looking down. Daniel was staring at him, concerned. He swallows, realising his throat is dry. Taking that as an excuse he swigged his beer, thinking of a response.

Eastwood: Yeah, yeah of course I am. Wanna hit a bar?

Daniel's eyes light up. It was the phrase Eastwood knew that Prideman would want to hear. Though his mind was running consciously over issue after issue after issue, subconsciously he could still think at a fast pace.

Prideman: Yes! Now this is the Jack I know and love!

Eastwood: Love? Fucking poof.

Maybe fast is too slow of a word. Try blistering.

Prideman: You know what I mean! Let me grab a shower and we'll party all night!

Daniel goes over to the bathroom, grabbing his kit bag on the way. Eastwood waits until he hears the sound of running water, before he snatches up his phone out of his own bag and hits a couple of numbers, speed-dialling. After a heartbeat the call is answered.

Eastwood: Alright Seth? We lost you backstage, where you at?

…

You left already? How come?

…

Not being funny mate, but this is the third meeting with your manager in as many days and I've got to be honest here... he's a bit of a twat.

…

Well, he is! You know when you did your interview before the show and he was being a proper condescending nob?

…

No, you didn't see him be a condescending nob, Seth, but that's because you weren't looking at him. I was. And believe you me, I know a nobhead when I see them.

…

He wants to speak to me? Seth, are you sure that's a good idea?

…

A quick word? Yeah, ok... put him on then.

…

Hi? Yeah, you wanted a quick word, Aldridge?

…

You prefer Mr Clarke, I prefer cuntface.

…

Oh, you're calling me cuntface now. How original. Listen, while you've got that stick up your arse why don't you go ahead and throw yourself in a river, see if you sink? Actually, that wouldn't work, would it? Because shit always floats to the top.

…

You are the top? Fantastic. Call me when you're not speaking in homosexual terms, sunshine.

…

Go ahead. Run.

Whilst the phone is passed back to Seth, Eastwood sighs and sips his beer.

Eastwood: Like I said. Nob.

…

What'd I go and do what for? You heard the way he was talking to me.

…

Why do you think I said it wasn't such a good idea? If he can't handle the heat then he'd best stay the fuck out of my kitchen.

…

I get it's important, Seth, but what about us?

…

...fine. Drop us a line when you're coming back.

He ends the call, tossing the phone angrily back into his bag. At this exact point, Daniel comes out of the bathroom. Eastwood looks up at him, cheesily grinning, desperately trying to maintain the façade of perfection whilst struggling internally.

Prideman: You hitting the shower?

Jack drains the rest of his can, tossing it over his shoulder towards the pile of empty cans and trash that a small plastic bin is buried underneath.

Eastwood: Yeah, yeah, yeah.

He picks up his change of clothes and makes for the shower, letting the warm water cascade down as he strips before stepping in and sighing, hanging his head. His greasy dreadlocks quickly soak up the water, forming a dark curtain around his eyes. He half-closes them, pressing his palms together in a relaxed fashion, stilling his hear and thinking.


He grabs his shower gel and smears it over his scarred body, shoulders rolling back pleasantly. With a quick wash and a trim of his ever-present stubble in the mirror across, he's ready to go.

We're going to Envy? Really?

Jack's eyes narrowed as they stepped out of his jet-black SUV, effortlessly tossing his keys towards the valet. Despite his distaste for the name, it was what might be considered 'cool'; the line to get in stretched around half the block. Finally, truly smirking for the first time in a long while, he walks up to the bouncer and nods, offering a hand to shake.

Without Daniel seeing his actions, he slips a bag of cocaine into the bouncer's palm, gesturing back to Prideman. The large man nods, opening up the way for the pair. Daniel smiles, impressed at the former's abilities. After they sort their ill-gotten drinks and make their way to the VIP section (via another, larger bag of cocaine), Jack sits back and relaxes, sipping at his imported bottle of lager and watching Daniel struggle with the ridiculously oversized bottle of champagne.

Prideman: Tonight Eastwood, I'll drink you under the table! I'll be needed subtitles by the time this night is over!

Oh fuck.

Eastwood: That fucked up? Think I can manage to help you with that. Take these and pop a couple.

He reaches into his pocket, pulling out his emergency supply of placebos. He nudges them across the table towards Prideman, taking care to clip the champagne so Daniel will notice it. Prideman takes all the pills and swallows them whole before knocking back the alcohol, to which Jack smiles at – the sweetness of the champagne masks the sugar pills.

Prideman: We have booze, drugs and music. You know what we need now? Women! Hold on.

Jack watched, a smile curling on the edge of his lips, as Daniel stumbled towards the dance floor, picking up the lager again as he slipped into the crowd. He had to admit; as he rolled out a second, smaller packet from his pocket and taking those pills for himself; if he hadn't passed Prideman the placebos himself he would have sworn the lad was on ecstasy. But he knew full well that, one; Daniel had never taken ecstasy before, two; Daniel had been drinking, which was never a good idea for a novice, and three; Daniel could flip out at any given moment and set fire to people.

Those three were not a pleasant combination and, given that Prideman was convinced he actually had taken ecstasy, he could full well set fire to everything. He stood up, glancing over the crowd from atop the VIP section, pushing through the crowds as he spotted him, politely acknowledging the whorish company he was keeping.

Eastwood: Ladies, I see you've met my friend. Would you like to join us in the VIP area? We have free drink flowing all night.

He threw his hand forward in a bid to get them moving, wrapping his arm around Prideman's shoulders and steering him after the bar sluts.

Eastwood: Come on mate! More drink!




Feeling uncomfortable as he studiously ignored the probably fake breasts in front of him, Jack smirked as he looked across to Daniel, who was clearly having the time of his life. Eastwood's grin broadened as his associate developed his new-found passion for body shots. The alcohol and actual ecstasy floating around in Jack's system were starting to kick in, but the unfamiliar surroundings, coupled with the company he was keeping, made him yearn for his own space. Though Daniel was proving himself quite the character on 'ecstasy'- something that Jack would have to keep in mind – it was time to leave.

Eastwood: Let's get of here now. Take this back to the Asylum. Ladies.

A hand wave towards the exit, the universal language for “can we fuck off now?”.

Prideman: I'll catch up.

Jack had noticed Daniel keeping an eye on a particular girl for the night; a rather fetching brunette. Under normal circumstances Jack would have made a beeline for her knickers, but he was nothing if not abnormal. Despite his earlier concerns Daniel had been calm for most of the night and, quite frankly, Jack had more important issues to arrange; the meeting with GSW and Dunn being chief amongst them. So he makes his goodbyes and leaves them to it, taking the majority of the girls with him on the Pack's private jet to the Asylum.



The young woman asleep on the couch rises from her much-needed beauty sleep to find a six foot eight, two hundred and eighty pound behemoth looking down at her, two cups of coffee in his hands. He passes one to her which she gratefully accepts, sliding up the couch to let him sit down. He declines with a shake of his head and a small smile.

Girl: So, was it good for you last night?

She bites her lip, trying to be sexy... which is hard when your face is caked with last night's make-up and there's somebody's vomit on your shoulder.

Eastwood: Yeah, it was good. We got in, I put you to bed and then made some phone calls.

The girl looks confused and slightly angry.

Girl: So... we didn't... have sex?

Eastwood: No.

Girl: Well, why not?

Jack takes a sip of his coffee before answering.

Eastwood: You were asleep. I didn't want to wake you.

The teeth return to the girl's face.

Girl: Wow, you are such a gentleman!

Eastwood: I try.

He smiles, taking another quaff.

Eastwood: Now would you kindly fuck off?

Girl: I... what?

Eastwood: There's the door. Could you fuck off, please?

Girl: What the Hell, you dick?

She rises, flinging the coffee away angrily.

Girl: I thought you were a gentleman!

Eastwood: Like I said, I try. And I'm done trying, I have things to do. So would you please, just go. There's a car outside that'll take you to the airport.

Girl: The airport? Why would I go to the airport?

Eastwood: ...you were really drunk last night, weren't you?

Girl: ...where am I? Where the Hell am I?

Eastwood: You're in Canada, love.

Girl: What the fuck, you asshole? You just kidnap me?

Eastwood: Kidnap is the wrong word... try having you insisting on coming back to my place and me being a bleeding heart motherfucker!

Girl: Go fuck yourself!

Eastwood: Well maybe I will, seeing as how you're that shit of a bar slag that you fall asleep on my sofa and, it seems, chuck up al over it!

Girl: Oh, my God. I have to get out of here.

She makes for the door but Jack calls after her.

Eastwood: Are you sure you wouldn't rather go with your friends?

The girl pauses and turns on her heel.

Girl: What did you say?

Eastwood: Your friends. They're with my friend.

Girl: ...who's your friend?

For the first time, she looks worried. Jack softens.

Eastwood: Come on, let's get them.

He leads her down the hallway on the first floor towards Daniel's bedroom. He stops her wordlessly when they reach the familiar sound of nature programmes, him holding up an open palm to stop the girl as he opens the door, poking his head around and surveying the carnage before him.

Eastwood: Wow... mad night.

Daniel looked up, his body struggling to adjust to the rock and roll treatment it had received.

Prideman: Tell me about it.

Without warning, Jack slapped his palms together, causing Daniel to groan from the noise and the girls to rouse.

Eastwood: Ladies! It's time for us to do business so if you'd like to pick up your cum-stained knickers, cover your pregnant twats and follow me, I'll make sure you get home safe.



Eastwood: So how's the head?

The pair sit around a coffee table outside, enjoying a rare spat of good weather. Jack takes the occasional drag from a joint. Daniel huddles himself into a ball, shades covering his reddened eyes.

Prideman: Banging. You sure that E wasn't dodgy?

Eastwood: Positive, mate. Mainly on account of how it wasn't ecstasy at all.

Prideman: ...you're fucking kidding me.

Eastwood: I'm not. Trust me on drugs, mate, moderation in all things. You drank too much before we got there to take anything stronger. And I'd have been irresponsible to let you.

Prideman: ...thanks, man.

Eastwood: Not a problem.

He's grateful that Daniel is too hungover to notice the lie of omission. Jack takes a drag from the joint and tosses it out onto the melting snow.

Eastwood: Promo cutting time. You in?

Daniel blearily moans.

Prideman: It's all yours.

Eastwood: Fuck it then, internal monologue it is.

Ammunition 16.2
LIVE from the MTS Center in Winnipeg, Canada

Singles Match
Jonathan King vs. Hannibal Frost

Singles Match
Skyler Striker vs. Leviticus

TV Title Match
Outlaw John Andrews (With the Braxton Twins) vs Jimmy Ice

Singles Match
Sean Jensen vs. Matt Dunn

Tag Match
The Pack (Jack Eastwood and Daniel Prideman) vs. Brett "The Bull" Jackson and Daniel "The Punisher" Ocean

Main Event
Full Metal Championship Match
Apostasy vs. Chris Austin

Ammunition 16.2
LIVE from the MTS Center in Winnipeg, Canada

Singles Match
Jonathan King vs. Hannibal Frost

Singles Match
Skyler Striker vs. Leviticus
Subject to change

TV Title Match
Outlaw John Andrews (With the Braxton Twins) vs Jimmy Ice

Singles Match
Sean Jensen vs. Matt Dunn

Tag Match
The Pack (Jack Eastwood and Daniel Prideman) vs. Brett "The Bull" Jackson and Daniel "The Punisher" Ocean

Main Event
Full Metal Championship Match
Apostasy vs. Chris Austin

Ammunition 16.2
LIVE from the MTS Center in Winnipeg, Canada

Singles Match
Jonathan King vs. Hannibal Frost

Singles Match
Skyler Striker vs. Leviticus

TV Title Match
Outlaw John Andrews (With the Braxton Twins) vs Jimmy Ice

Singles Match
Sean Jensen vs. Matt Dunn

Tag Match
The Pack (Jack Eastwood and Daniel Prideman) vs. Brett "The Bull" Jackson and Daniel "The Punisher" Ocean

Main Event
Full Metal Championship Match
Apostasy vs. Chris Austin

Singles Match
Jonathan King vs. Hannibal Frost

Singles Match
Skyler Striker vs. Leviticus

TV Title Match
Outlaw John Andrews (With the Braxton Twins) vs Jimmy Ice

Singles Match
Sean Jensen vs. Matt Dunn

Tag Match
The Pack (Jack Eastwood and Daniel Prideman) vs. Brett "The Bull" Jackson and Daniel "The Punisher" Ocean

Main Event
Full Metal Championship Match
Apostasy vs. Chris Austin

From FMW.com

To the members of the Full Metal Militia. This morning when we got to the FMW.com offices we started our day as we usually do, a steaming hot cup of coffee and e-mail from all of you. However today not only was our e-mail reading disrupted but we nearly spewed our coffee all over our monitors.

You see normally we love to see e-mail from you. We get to read about your favorite superstars, your thoughts on the shows, what you think of our backstage crew (On that note, as creative as some of the things that have been sent to us about Veronica Cherrywood are, we don't need to see that first thing every morning.) But today was different. Today our inboxes were flooded with a number of e-mails about a competitor who isn't even technically part of FMW. The e-mails went on at great length about something this competitor had posted on a rival promotion's website. Most of the e-mails even included a link so we wouldn't have to look for it. Normally we would just disregard this kind of e-mail (Like we do whenever the other place is brought up. You know, that place with the Lumpy Pandas.). But due to the sheer volume of the e-mails we decided to go check things out.

What we saw was cryptic, strange, and honestly a little creepy. We believe that the statements this individual made here could have some big effects on FMW in the near future (Whether we want them to or not.). Now keep in mind we are not one hundred percent sure exactly what all of this means, but we wanted to pass it along to all the members of the Militia, so that you know what is going on.

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

Good evening ladies and gentlemen.

If you are reading this then you are aware that the man named Leviticus has recently run into a number of problems. These problems range from personal to professional. They vary in levels of importance from life shaking to nearly insignificant. These distractions have cost Leviticus a great deal in both his private and professional life.

What is the cause of these problems you might ask. Well, the answer is simple. Evil. Now before you hit the back button on your browser and roll your eyes hear me out.

It is evil that causes man to fall as frequently and as hard as he does. It is evil that is constantly whispering in our ear to do that one horrible thing that we know we shouldn't. It is evil that lulls a man on fire with passion into the deepest depths of apathy. It is evil that causes a man's friends to betray him, leaving him alone in the darkest of times. It is evil that fights good every step of the way.

You see ever since Leviticus came to FMW he has found himself surrounded by nothing less then a cesspool of sheer evil. The evil that grows stagnant in the cesspool of FMW is the kind of filth that clings to your skin and refuses to wash away. The kind of grime that seeps into your very pores and stains your skin. In his foolishness Leviticus felt as though he could dive into this pool and fish all the contaminants out. He quickly learned that he was wrong though. He found that the harder he tried to swim against the tide the more violently it began to overtake him. The more he tried his best to be the good guy in a company built on the blood of the most vile villains the more he was pulled into the current. In short Leviticus swan so long that he began to drown.

That is why the man you see on Ammunition tonight will not be Leviticus.

No, he has long since left the pool.

You see he didn't have what it takes to brave the sharks that swim in the cesspool. He was missing to many things that would have enabled him to harpoon those creatures straight in their black hearts.

But, the man who will appear on Ammunition tonight won't bear such weaknesses. He will be a predator for the cause of righteousness, one who is prepared to make the cesspool run red with the blood of evil. One who will not only harpoon the sharks but be so bold as to wear their teeth as trophies.

Be prepared FMW, for a change is coming in the tide. Prepare to be drown in your own filth, as you choke on your own darkness.

Because you see, the man who will appear before you tonight will bring something Leviticus couldn't seem to acquire......

JUSTICE



Levirusticus

Ammunition 16.2
LIVE from the MTS Center in Winnipeg, Canada

Singles Match
Jonathan King vs. Hannibal Frost

Singles Match
Skyler Striker vs. Leviticus

I guess that makes you number one.....

TV Title Match
Outlaw John Andrews (With the Braxton Twins) vs Jimmy Ice

This Outlaw kid has had potential for a long time. No disrespect to Jimmy but it is long since time for him to cash in his chips.

Singles Match
Sean Jensen vs. Matt Dunn

Sean has returned!!! Hopefully Dunn can to!!!!

Tag Match
The Pack (Jack Eastwood and Daniel Prideman) vs. Brett "The Bull" Jackson and Daniel "The Punisher" Ocean

Remember what I said about Outlaw? he same thing applies to the Pack. This gimmick has been overlooked and run down over the course of time but these guys keep it alive and manage to make it compelling to. All they need is that next step up. Wait, that kind of sound like another faction I know of....

Main Event
Full Metal Championship Match
Apostasy vs. Chris Austin

I absolutely love the work these guys do. They never, ever disappoint. So, with that in mind I am too torn to truly pick a winner here. So in the event of a draw, the champ retains.

Ammunition 16.2
LIVE from the MTS Center in Winnipeg, Canada

Singles Match
Jonathan King vs. Hannibal Frost

Singles Match
Skyler Striker vs. Leviticus

TV Title Match
Outlaw John Andrews (With the Braxton Twins) vs Jimmy Ice

Singles Match
Sean Jensen vs. Matt Dunn

Tag Match
The Pack (Jack Eastwood and Daniel Prideman) vs. Brett "The Bull" Jackson and Daniel "The Punisher" Ocean

Main Event
Full Metal Championship Match
Apostasy vs. Chris Austin

Singles Match
Jonathan King vs. Hannibal Frost

Singles Match
Skyler Striker vs. Leviticus

TV Title Match
Outlaw John Andrews (With the Braxton Twins) vs Jimmy Ice

Singles Match
Sean Jensen vs. Matt Dunn

Tag Match
The Pack (Jack Eastwood and Daniel Prideman) vs. Brett "The Bull" Jackson and Daniel "The Punisher" Ocean

Main Event
Full Metal Championship Match
Apostasy vs. Chris Austin

Singles Match
Jonathan King vs. Hannibal Frost

Singles Match
Skyler Striker vs. Leviticus

TV Title Match
Outlaw John Andrews (With the Braxton Twins) vs Jimmy Ice

Singles Match
Sean Jensen vs. Matt Dunn

Tag Match
The Pack (Jack Eastwood and Daniel Prideman) vs. Brett "The Bull" Jackson and Daniel "The Punisher" Ocean

Main Event
Full Metal Championship Match
Apostasy vs. Chris Austin

Wow. One match where both sides showed up

Singles Match
Jonathan King vs. Hannibal Frost

Singles Match
Skyler Striker vs. Leviticus

TV Title Match
Outlaw John Andrews (With the Braxton Twins) vs Jimmy Ice

Singles Match
Sean Jensen vs. Matt Dunn

Tag Match
The Pack (Jack Eastwood and Daniel Prideman) vs. Brett "The Bull" Jackson and Daniel "The Punisher" Ocean

Main Event
Full Metal Championship Match
Apostasy vs. Chris Austin

I know that I am passed the deadline but I felt I should put something up anyway.

Let us go forward in this battle fortified by conviction that those who labour in the service of a great and good cause will never fail.

Owen Arthur

The scene opens in a drab stone room. Shadows cascade over the walls, fighting one another for their place.In the center of the room sits a stone table and chair. From the corner a figure emerges. His face is masked in shadow as he sits and contemplates.

"Some battles are won and some are lost. Some rage on for all time. The battle for the soul is one such battle. This is not a battle between heaven and hell, no, this is a battle of man versus self. Weak men fall while strong men crumble. No matter your stock, you too shall be humbled.

It is not in a mans' nature to concede defeat and yet we do so with such frequency. Is it that we meet our betters and wish to fight another day? Is it complacency that paralyzes us in the face of adversity? I cannot answer this sufficiently. I fear that I have lost the battle for my soul long ago but perhaps by helping him I can redeem myself. "

Suddenly the room catches fire. The flames lick the walls, chasing the shadows away.

" Looks like my time is up."

The figure is engulfed in flames. It extends its arms and sprouts coal black wings. And then the figure disappears as if it was never there.