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Bring back Gary Oak!
4,682 Posts
Discussion Starter #1

Premier Wrestling Circuit (PWC)
... Presents ...

Arena: The SSE Hydro
Location: Glasgow, Scotland


Triple Threat Match:
Bruce Thorn Jr vs. Jensen vs. Robert Hollander

Singles Match:
Gino Galucci vs. Crowley

Tag Team Match:
The Regime (Freddie Vos & Derek Jacobs) vs. The Blackouts (Nathaniel Grey & Kameron O'Ryan)

#1 Contender for the Legacy Championship:
Axel Way vs. Famine

Triple Threat Match:
Elijah King vs. Hunter Jackson vs. Karl Wyndham

Tag Match:
Dr. Nero & Darius Black vs. Daiko & Xander Black


Deadline for RP's is 11:59 pm GMT on August 24th.. You will be given a 24 hour warning before the deadline so don't worry.

Deadline for the show is 11:59 pm GMT on August 31st. For every single day extension provided for the RPs, the show deadline gets extended by an equal duration.

GFX Credit: CHAMPviaDQ

As always, feel free to leave your predictions in the thread. Don't expect any prizes though, as Creative are rather poor and prizes are rather expensive. You could always leave a short review of the shows/any RP's too, as that will help everyone grow which is always nice. I think.​

35 Posts
(OOC: I know that I'm supposed to procrastinate and not post a RP until the last day, but I've had the basic meat of this RP ready to go for about a week now. All I needed was who I was going to face and to talk about my opponents. Done and done. Hope you guys enjoy it as much as I enjoyed typing it. :dance)

Anarchy As A Word vs. Anarchy As A Purpose

Scene: Chesterfield Square, Located in South Los Angeles

Grizzled Narrator: When you think of Los Angeles, your mind probably takes you to the glitz and glamour of Hollywood, the many award shows, the talk shows, the lifestyle, the many celebrities you can see on a daily basis, and, of course, the traffic jams. What isn't shown as often is the darker side of LA. Violence runs rampant in the worst areas, and the Code of Anarchy, formerly the Group of Anarchy, can usually be found where the violence and the chaos is highest. The minions usually fail to understand why someone would willingly go into the mouth of madness, but they follow along anyway, as if they don't really have a choice in the matter. Such is the power and the reach of Karl Wyndham, the charismatic and unhinged leader of the group. On this particular night, Wyndham and his Code find themselves in perhaps the worst area of Los Angeles: Chesterfield Square, an area riddled with crime and despair, an area with a higher crime rate than any other part of LA. For Wyndham, however, this is an ideal spot for his group. There is never an easy night if you are a member of the Code of Anarchy...but you come to expect that, and even embrace it, over time. On this night, they have set up a camp in the heart of Chesterfield Square, intent on making a statement.

Eddie and Lonnie, the two main minions of the Code, are shown walking over to their leader, who is sitting Indian-style in front of a makeshift campfire. Eddie appears somewhat hesitant to approach, but Lonnie is shown pulling Eddie along with him.

Lonnie: Uh, boss, um...we need to talk to you.

Karl remains stone-faced, staring off into the distance.

Karl: What is it, Lonnie?

Lonnie: Well, Eddie and I have been thinking...

Eddie: But mostly Lonnie!

Lonnie: ...yes, mostly myself...about the course of action you plan on taking upon your debut in PWC.

Karl stays silence for a few seconds for dramatic effect, and then loudly sighs.

Karl: What problem do you have with the plan now?

Lonnie: Well, if I'm allowed to be honest...

Karl: Don't be foolish, Lonnie. You, of all people, are certainly allowed to be honest with me.

Lonnie: Right...anyway, most of the Code seem to think that your latest plan of attack is a little...risky. I mean, we want chaos and destruction as much as you do, boss...

Eddie: Maybe even more so, boss!

Lonnie: But your plan may be a bit too...broad for an opening salvo. You're wanting to destroy so much in one go, when it would make more sense to destroy PWC one tiny step at a time. Do we really want to destroy everything so quickly? Shouldn't we, you know, pick and choose our spots?

Karl's face has been growing increasingly agitated as Lonnie speaks his complaints.

Lonnie: We should be thoughtful as well as destructive, articulate and chaotic. precise and--

Finally, Karl can stand no more and he gets up straight into Lonnie's face. Karl's eyes are filled with rage.

Karl: Why are you so persistent on trying to change the plan, Lonnie? What are you so afraid of?!

Lonnie visibly gulps as the rest of the Code stops whatever they are doing to focus on this particular moment.

Lonnie: Well, I--I mean, it's...um...it's just a little...too much, too soon...

Karl: Don't you GET IT, Lonnie? It's NEVER too much at one time! We have to spread the message of anarchy as quickly and as loudly as possible. The entire wrestling world has to know what our intentions are, what we strive for. We cannot accomplish this by idly waiting to see what everyone else does! Waiting is a coward's game, Lonnie. Are you a coward?

Lonnie looks down at the ground, unable to bring himself to respond to Karl's question. Karl does not take this well.


Lonnie flinches at Karl's raised voice, while Eddie is shown cowering behind Lonnie. After a few tense moments, Lonnie finally responds in a meek voice.

Lonnie: ...n-no.

Karl puts his right hand to his right ear.

Karl: What was that, Lonnie? I'm a little hard of hearing, so you may have to speak up.

Lonnie: No.

Karl gets closer to Lonnie's face, still putting his right hand to his right ear.

Karl: Sorry, that wasn't quite loud enough. Maybe you should say that again...


You could hear a pin drop at the moment, the silence is so unbearable. Finally, after a long period of silence and uneasiness, Karl puts his hand down, smirks, and speaks up.

Karl: No, Lonnie, that is the one thing you are certainly not.

Lonnie breaths a sigh of relief, but he is quick to jump back when Karl gets into his face again.

Karl: But I'm going to say this to you once and once only, so you better remember it: NEVER question the plan again. Got it?

Lonnie: Uh...yeah. Yeah, I got it.

Karl grins and pats Lonnie on the shoulder.

Karl: Good. A Code that sticks to the plan is a strong Code. Never forget that. Now, go over to the recruiting stand and do what you can to get more applicants. The Code is never too big.

Lonnie nods and the rest of the Code get back to their duties, while Karl sits back down in front of the campfire...everyone, that is, except for Eddie, who is still shaken from what just happened. For a few moments, the second-in-command of the Code just stands there. When he finally goes to leave, he is startled when Karl speaks up.

Karl: You obviously have something to say, Eddie, so say it.

Eddie gulps and finally says what is on his mind.

Eddie: No offense, boss, but with the way you have been speaking and planning recently, I can't help but think that you're starting to lose your way.

Karl looks up at Eddie with an incredulous look on his face.

Karl: ...what?!

Eddie: No no, you don't understand, I'm not saying that you're going soft or that your mind is going weak. I just...I just think that you're starting to veer away from the original purpose of the Code. Sure, we're still on the path of destruction. Sure, we're still hellbent on chaos. But don't you think that this plan might alienate the people that we want to join us? We want to destroy everything, but we also want to rebuild it into a chaotic paradise that we control. Those were your EXACT words to me just a month ago. And yet, lately, it seems like, more than anything, you just want to inflict suffering and pain.

Karl pauses for a moment, gathering himself and his thoughts, and then responds in a much more calm manner than he did with Lonnie.

Karl: Eddie, I understand your concerns, but I haven't lost my focus. I have not lost sight of what is truly important. The main purpose is still to reach out to those who have been misled, those who have been brainwashed to believing everything their superiors tell them to. None of that has changed. The problem is that our original opening salvo wasn't going to be enough. These people have been indoctrinated to the point where they would have trouble believing in ANY new idea or new purpose in life. That's why our approach has to become more violent to start, because we have to show them just how misled they have truly been.

To lead everyone to a better tomorrow, we must first make today as unbearable and as painful as possible. We must show them the error of their ways through our most trusted method. We must be that much more violent, THAT much more ruthless, THAT much more horrific than everyone else. It is the only way to make people see where they have went wrong, Eddie. They won't listen to reason right out of the box, because they have been taught not to listen to reason. We have to beat reason into them.

Karl then stands up again and puts his hands on Eddie's shoulders. By this point, Eddie has calmed down considerably and is nodding along to every word.

Karl: Don't worry, Edward. We are still on the correct path. We just have to take a detour, that's all.

Eddie nods again and grins at his leader.

Karl All hail the Code of Anarchy.

Eddie: The one true anarchy.

Both: The one true reason of being.

As Eddie steps away, Karl is shown to have a smirk on his face and evil intentions in his eyes. As the narrator talks, Karl is shown walking back over to the makeshift fire, sitting down and staring into the flames, intent on making everyone see things the way he sees the world.

Grizzled Narrator: As I said earlier, there is never a night where things go smoothly for the Code of Anarchy. But Karl Wyndham would not have it any other way, for he would prefer for everything in life to be as unnerving as he is. Wyndham does not believe in the finer things in life. He does not believe in achieving greatness. He doesn't even want to accomplish much more than destroying everything around him. But for Karl, that's perfect. Nothing matters more to him in the entire world than watching that world collapse upon itself. He is not promoting anarchy and chaos because it's the "cool" thing to do. He genuinely believes it's the only way that the population at large should live, that everyone should be just like him...or simply not exist.


Scene: National Mall Near The Washington Monument, Washington DC, Day Before Desolation

A bright sun is the next image we see after the static ceases, and the camera zooms out to reveal that we are now in the nation's capital, Washington DC. Nearby is one of the biggest landmarks in the country, the Washington Monument. Standing not too far away at a "Recruitment Center" booth are the main minions of the Code of Anarchy, Eddie and Lonnie, presumably using this prime opportunity to try and recruit new members to their ever-growing group. Karl Wyndham is nowhere to be found just yet.

Grizzled Narrator: One of the biggest nights of the year for PWC is just around the corner, but a Code's work is never done. With Desolation occurring one night later in Washington DC, Eddie and Lonnie of the Code of Anarchy decided that now would be as good of a time as any to seek out new members and spread the word of the boss to those who could be of service. What Eddie and Lonnie don't know is that Karl Wyndham is close by, watching their every move, waiting for a moment to capitalize on a mistake...

Lonnie: I'm going to say this to you very carefully, Eddie. Let me do the talking. I have recruited far more members to the Code than you ever will, so know your place and only assist me when you're told. You got that?

Eddie: Whoa whoa whoa, wait a second. Who do you think you're talking to here? *I* am the second-in-command. The boss looks to me first before he looks anywhere else to get advice. If anyone should be recruiting members into the group, it should be the guy that the boss trusts the most. That's me, Lonnie. Now step aside.

Eddie tries to push Lonnie back, but Lonnie won't budge.

Lonnie: Eddie, the last time that you led the recruitment center, we recruited a grand total of two people.

Eddie: It was during a MONSOON, Lonnie! You can forgive me for not recruiting anyone when it looked like the world was ending!

Lonnie: Nonetheless, I am a proven recruiter with years of experience in this regard. You are a great right-hand man, but you're not a recruiter.

Eddie: But all of this is moot, because I AM the second-in-command, which means that you listen to me.

A potential applicant stops by the booth, which causes Eddie and Lonnie to stop on a whim and turn to the applicant with grins on their faces.

Lonnie: Hi there, we're with the--

Eddie: --Code of Anarchy, how are you--

Lonnie: --doing today?

The applicant gives both Eddie and Lonnie a perplexed face before walking away swiftly. Eddie gives Lonnie a very stern look.

Eddie: What are you doing, Lonnie?

Lonnie: I already told you, Eddie. I'm a better recruiter than you, so I'm doing what I'm supposed to be doing.


Lonnie: Well, maybe I would be more accepting of you using your rank if you were not SUCH A TERRIBLE RECRUITER, EDDIE!


Finally, Karl Wyndham has had enough. He pops up on the screen and gets in both of his minions' faces, looking disheveled and completely infuriated by the actions of his main minions.

Karl: You have had applicants come up to you who may have been willing to join us, but you are too busy arguing with one another to give them a chance to become members! Why am I even having you two do this job? Get out of the booth! BOTH OF YOU!

Eddie and Lonnie just stare at each other, almost ignoring Karl. This does not sit well with Karl at all, who grabs the hair of both men, who flinch in obvious pain.

Karl: Are you two ignoring a direct order from your leader?

Both men shake their heads.

Karl: Then get out of my booth and let me take care of this.

Both men then look up at Karl with incredulous looks on their faces.

Eddie: But boss, you haven't recruited yourself since--

Karl: It does not matter how long it's been since I last recruited members. The point is that you two are doing a TERRIBLE job at it right now, to the point that *I* have to step in and clean up your messes. The Code does not need you two bickering all the time, especially now, when we are at our most crucial period. We need everyone to be together, now more than ever, and I will not have my two most important men fighting over who has the biggest set of cojones. Now, I suggest that you two start handing out flyers to people and having them directed here to the recruitment center. And if I hear from anyone that you two were still bickering, I will make sure of it that your punishment will be severe and with malice. Are we clear, gentlemen?

Both men stall before nodding sadly. Karl then nods himself.

Karl: Good. Now go.

Eddie and Lonnie look at each other with scowls on their faces before heading off in opposite directions. Karl then stands by himself at the recruitment center, shaking his head in disappointment. Just then, someone walks up wearing an "Anarchy" t-shirt, the likes of which you could find at Hot Topic.

Applicant: Hi, I see that you're recruiting members for an Anarchy group?

The applicant smiles. Karl does not. If anything, Karl's anger only intensifies.

Karl: I am, but I don't think there's a place in my group for you.

The applicant's smile quickly fades and turns into a look of bewilderment.

Applicant: I'm...I'm sorry?

Karl: Let me guess...you looked up "anarchy" on Wikipedia, saw that t-shirt that you're wearing at a Hot Topic, and then bought it and put it on and immediately thought, "Hey, I'm an anarchist now", right? And you come to me thinking that this is all that is needed in order to be a member of a group specializing in chaos? I'm right, aren't I?

Karl chuckles to himself and then stares a hole into the applicant.

Karl: You listen to me, you little punk, and you listen to me good. I do not take kindly to someone besmirching the good name of anarchy. I do not appreciate when someone thinks they can be an anarchist just by looking like one. And I certainly do not appreciate when someone wants to be a part of my group simply because being an anarchist is suddenly the "cool thing to do". That's exactly the kind of person you are, and all I had to do was see that shirt and that smile on your face to know that. Am I right or am I wrong?

The potential applicant first looks at Karl with a shocked look on his face...before it turns into one of accepting sadness. The applicant nods. This only causes Karl to get angrier, though not necessarily at the applicant.

Karl: Oh, but of course. The first applicant that comes by my recruitment center is one that is trying to be cool and hip. I'm so sick of this garbage. Almost all of the applicants I have been getting are people that just want to be "cool" and "trendy". Well, I have a newsflash for you: Being an anarchist is not about being cool. It's not about being trendy. It's about truly believing in chaos as a means of living. It's about accepting anarchy as your lord and savior, your shining light in a sea of ignorant darkness.

Applicant: But I--I can learn how to be a true anarchist, if you just give me a chance to prove myself to you!

Karl: Kid, I say this to every person just like you who tries to bargain with me. If you truly are an anarchist, if you truly are an organic creator of chaos, then you already know that you are, because you were born with the trait. It's not something you learn, kid. You either are or you're not. And you're not, right?

The applicant shakes his head. Karl nods.

Karl: That's what I thought. Get out of my sight. Your kind disgusts me.

The applicant sadly walks away as Karl seethes about yet another lost applicant. As the narrator speaks yet again, Wyndham is shown looking at the few applications that have satisfied him in the past week. He then comes across one that particularly catches his eye...before ripping it into tiny little pieces.

Grizzled Narrator: Say what you will about Karl Wyndham, but Karl Wyndham is a man of principle. He does not appreciate when someone tries to pretend to be something that they're not. If you are a member of his Code of Anarchy, it's because you are truly an agent of anarchy, not someone who is simply trying to latch onto the hot new trend. Karl Wyndham does not accept pretenders. He only accepts the truth...his truth.


Scene: A Dark Room, Location Unknown

The room is darkly lit, with only a few candles to light the way. The original scene of Chesterfield Square seems miles away now. Even Washington seems like it's in another country in this current setting. The grizzled narrator from before is long gone. Only one man remains. Karl Wyndham is sitting in the room alone, Indian-style, blankly looking out into the darkness. He has a lot on his mind, and he's willing to share his thoughts with the world. You can hear his voice echo in the room as he is speaking to the masses.

Karl: Anarchy is a word that, in recent years, has been treated as a joke. You see so many wannabes running around pretending as if they know what true anarchy is all about, flaunting the "anarchy logo" for all to see while spouting some bulls*** quotes like, "I just want to watch the world burn." Thanks to films and books and other media, anarchy has been turned into a caricature, a shell of its former self, by people who don't know better. All of these sycophants that pretend they are anarchists would be some of the first to perish if chaos really did break out. To truly be an anarchist, you have to believe in it and not just pretend that you know what you're talking about. That's the rub, and that's what I tell all of the posers that think they have what it takes to be a part of my Code. It's one thing to say that you want to create chaos. It's another thing entirely to cause it. You have to be ready to die in order to live.

Once the posers hear this, they back out pretty quickly. It's not surprising. These people that want to be anarchists so badly are afraid to take the next step. because they know what the next step implies. The next step is actually believing in anarchy as a way of life, as a purpose, as a reason of existing. It can be a scary prospect, but if you truly believe in anarchy, then you are already there. That's what the posers always miss. If you're an anarchist, you already know you are, because you already realize that it is the true way of life. As much as I hate those losers, I have to respect the Goths for one important reason: Most true Goths believe in their way of life. They believe that is their purpose of being. It's the posers that have given them the bad reputation. Such is the case with those who are truly catalysts of chaos, as opposed to those who simply want to ride the hot new trend.

Karl takes a few moments to consider his next words and then speaks in a more sinister tone directly into the camera.

Karl: You have all been led to believe that anyone who doesn't fit the "norm" in professional wrestling should be shunned. You have been forced to believe in what has been shoved down your throat for decades, that those of us who act different are out of their minds. We're "crazy", according to the establishment. That's what they want you to believe. The truth, however, is dangerous to those above us on the food chain. We have the power to change everything about how wrestling works. We can destroy the very existence of professional wrestling and rebuild it in our own image, shape the future of this business with our own two hands. All that you have to do is not treat anarchy as just some buzzword and treat it for what it actually is: The one purpose that truly matters.

Karl smirks to himself and then considers his next words carefully.

Karl: My debut is coming very soon, as some of you may know. I'm taking on not one, but two opponents. Both of these men represent everything I'm trying to fight against. I will admit that I see a lot of myself in Elijah King. He's fighting to mold the PWC into his image, which, in a way, I admire and understand. The problem is that he's also the exact opposite of everything that I stand for. He has a strict set of rules and regulations that he wants everyone to abide by. He wants to censor free thought. He wants PWC to be a rigid paradise, as opposed to anarchy and chaos. As you might have guessed, I'm not a fan of his philosophy. At Vortex, I may not be nude on Vortex, and I may not be vulgar, but you can bet that I will be violent and without mercy. I will make you see the truth, and the truth is covered in anarchy red.

Oh, don't think I've forgotten about you, Mr. Pacifism, Mr. Won't Raise His Fists Unless He's In Life-Threatening Danger. Hunter, I hope you realize what is about to happen here. Once I dispose of high and mighty Elijah over there, I'm coming after you. And you can pray to your Buddha god all you want to, but he won't be able to save you from what's coming. I'm not just going to put your life in danger. I'm going to end your life as you know it. I'm going to make you do something that is against everything you stand for. You see, Hunter, you're going to fight me. And I don't mean try to out-wrestle me. No, Hunter Jackson,you're going to FIGHT me. You're going to punch me and kick me and claw at me, because if you don't, I will not hesitate to decimate your every being. You're going to be the most animalistic you have ever been in your life, because you will have to be to even think of surviving me. And when the match is over, you will come to find out that your way of life has been all wrong. You chose the wrong path, Hunter, and I'm going to relish in beating that path out of you.

Karl then looks up at the sky, as if to shout up at the heavens, and holds his arms out while speaking his next few words.

Karl: If all of you have been told by your "smart" friends that I, myself, am a poser who doesn't truly believe in what I speak, just watch the next Vortex being held in the land of the Gaels. Watch as I practice what I preach against everyone who opposes me. Watch as my Code of Anarchy reaches heights that have never been reached before. I am not just some preacher of falsehoods. I am not a poser pretending to be something that I am not. I am the living entity of chaos. I am the harbinger of destruction. I am Karl Wyndham, and I am not just a practitioner of anarchy...I am anarchy!

Karl then closes his eyes and tilts his head up.

All hail the Code of Anarchy, the one true anarchy...

Karl then opens his eyes and looks at the camera with an evil grin on his face.

...the one true reason of being.


Premium Member
8,251 Posts
I'm gonna be working a lot till Thursday and then away from Friday to Monday....I really doubt I'll able to get it in this time :(.

84 Posts
Elder I think it's time I left the temple, I've prayed & asked for guidance. I think it's time I follow my dream of becoming a professional wrestler.

An old Buddhist monk sitting across from Hunter stares him in the eye before responding.

Follow your heart young Hunter just don't forget what you have learned here the last 10 years. You came to us a child looking for a way other than your families violent history and we have taught you everything we could in the time we had. Go and show the world that harmony is possible even in professional wrestling.

Hunter gets up off the mat they were sitting on and goes to leave but when he gets to the door he stops and looks back.

I will make you proud, I promise.


Hunter opens his eyes as his phone pulls him from his meditation. He reaches over & answers it.

Hello? (Pause) Hey Lor how are you? (Pause) I'm fine just adjusting to being back home after being away for ten years.

Hunter gets up and stretches his back as he listens to his best friend and new tag team partner Jensen on the other end.

I don't regret coming home at all. I left to get away from my families history & what they expected of me, the time was right for me to come back.

He pauses again as he listens to Jensen.

I didn't think for a million years we would be in the same company. (Pause) I will be fine, yes i am a pacifist but i do know a lot of submission moves as well as some basic grappling moves. I'll leave the flash to you.

Hunter laughs as Jensen speaks on the other end.

Yeah, just like old times. The only thing i don't like is they have me in a triple threat against Elijah King & Karl Wyndham instead of a Tag Match with you.

Jensen can be heard on the other end telling Hunter in a loud voice to be careful of his opponents, especially Karl Wyndham.

I know Lor, neither are to be taken lately. Elijah King has his own goal in PWC that i actually agree with. He believes there is too much violence & foul language in this company and so do I. The difference between us is I am here to show people it can be done. He is here to force people to conform and if history has taught us anything it's that those who are forced to conform always rebel in the end. I'm not afraid of Elijah King due to the fact win, lose or draw he will fall to those he oppresses.

Hunter stops talking as Jensen interrupts him and a slight look of worry crosses his face.

I know Loren, Karl Wyndham stands for everything I am against, chaos, disorder...Anarchy. You know what makes him dangerous is the fact he doesn't force anyone to follow him. Every follower he has chose to follow him & will do whatever it takes to protect him. That makes him a very dangerous man.

Jensen can again be heard, this time asking Hunter if he thinks he can win.

Yes I can Lor and I can beat him my way no matter what he says. If I won't join the army like every first born male in my family I will not FIGHT Karl Wyndham in a PWC ring.

Hunter pauses to listen to Jensen at the other end but it's too quiet for it to be heard.

Yeah I'll see you in Scotland. We can talk more at the arena if you want.

Hunter hangs up the phone and goes about packing for his first ever PWC show.

No Kings
422 Posts

A sea of sand and dirt flanked a white cargo van as it pursued the expanse of an azure sky into the heart of the sun.

“I had hoped it would not come to this,” a gravely voice murmured. “But I seemed to forget that you can only be immortal for a limited time.”

A gnarly hand gripped a hot leather steering wheel tighter yet, favoring the left side of it.

“The painkillers should last until we get there,” the voice murmured again.

“Where exactly are we going?” replied another voice.

“An apogee of depravity and lawlessness,” said the gravely voice, gripping the steering wheel even tighter. “Our exodus is the epitome of a calculated risk.”

“I hate to say it, but can you try to cut down on the big words? And why? We were doing fine in New York,”

“I have realized that I -- we -- cannot do this alone. As it goes, the goal is always closer the nearer you get to the belly of the beast.”


The outline of a small building became more and more apparent in the horizon The van drew nearer, inciting flocks of crows to emerge from a seemingly invisible portal in the blue sky. Coming to a halt outside of a decrepit building, the door to the van flopped open and a pair of snakeskin cowboy boots hit the ground.

“Stay here.”

A crooked sign near the entrance seemed to read “Diner.” The door to the building let out a torturous squeal as a flourish of light and dust breached the room. The wood floor, obscured by sawdust, creaked as a figure took a sharp right and approached a single table adjacent to a window concealed by dusty blinds. The room once again became cloaked in shadow with the closing of the front door as evidenced by the same torturous squeal. The figure, clad in a long black coat, removed a cowboy hat from his head and sat down before a man clad in overalls, who fingered a bottle of liquor.

The overall-clad man looked up. “Alright, Gary, I came here like you asked. What do you want?”

“I told you on the phone,” replied Gary Dennis. “I want back in.”

“And why is that?” the man inquired, wiping his dirty chin of liquor. “Couldn’t cut it on Broadway?”

“No, I simply stopped being complacent,” Gary replied. “And I was looking for something. My journey just happened to lead to New York.”

“Well seeing as you’re back here, I guess you haven’t found what you were looking for. And I can tell you, the only thing you’re going to find here now is trouble. Get out of here, Gary.”

“Just take me there. Brick will understand.”

“Your daddy Brick is down in Mexico greasing some palms, so as of right now, I’m in charge of the farm. And why should we trust you?”

Gary sat up from the table allowed his coat to drop to the floor, exposing an armless void on the right side of his body.

“What kinda shit have you been into?” inquired Buck. He pulled down two of the dusty venetian blinds to his left. Squinting to shield his eyes from the sun, he noticed another figure in the passenger seat of Gary’s van.

“Hey,” inquired Buck. “Who’s the geek?”

“Call him a friend,” replied Gary. “Now can you get me in?”

“Friend, huh? Not like you to make friends. You know, maybe I could get you in. But your friend might have to stay behind. You know how it is.”

“No. He’s with me. Brick will understand.”


Outside, crows continued to circle the hemisphere as Buck and Gary approached the rear of the van. Buck directed his hand toward a gun holstered at his side. Gary opened the double doors and Buck retracted his arm. Before the men were two human figures bound with rope.

“Are you crazy?” inquired Buck. “No, don’t answer that.”

“This is not why I’m here, but we can use them,” replied Gary. “Just take me to the farm.”

“You ain’t the boss of me, quitter.” muttered Buck as he approached his motorcycle.

Gary reentered the van.

“Who is that?” inquired Famine, wincing and gripping his bandaged right arm.

Gary’s eyes were fixated on the rear-view mirror as Buck climbed onto his motorcycle.

“Call him an element,” replied Gary.

“Does everything have to be related to chemistry?” said Famine. He happened to glance into the rear-view mirror and noticed an inconspicuous patrol car had appeared. He ignored it as the cavalcade pulled out, led by Buck on his motorcycle.


The journey to the Farm consisted of a series of twisting dirt passage flanked by sand and cacti. A large mirage of buildings, encapsulated by security fence and towers became more apparent as the vehicles further delved into the sprawling fringes of civilization. In passing, a sign impaled in the dirt simply read, “Scorpion Wrestling Academy, Est. 1948.”

The vehicles came into the focus of a pair of binoculars emanating from a distant tower. The journey came to an end as the vehicles stopped before a mile of fence with a gate serving as a portal to the inside. Beyond the gate and fence was a large aircraft hangar, flanked to the left and right by barracks.

A man wearing a vest and a rifle on his back approached Buck’s motorcycle. The perspective from within the van saw Buck pantomime to the guard, pointing several times backwards. Eventually, the guard waved the cavalcade through as they slowly approached the hangar. As the vehicles stopped, Famine wincing released his seat-belt and thrust his hand toward a backpack laying at his feet.

“I will offer you this,” Gary began, thrusting his hand before Famine’s chest and staring blankly forward, “You say I use big words, but small talk is cheap. Do not trust anyone within those walls but me.”

Two guards tended to the men in back of the van as Buck, Gary, and Famine approached the large entrance to the hangar as it slid open slowly. Echoes of grunts and groans of men in wrestling rings scattered about filled the air. Onlookers shielded their faces from the sun’s sudden infiltration.

“Alright, who wants to help me escort the fresh and rotten meat?” inquired Buck, motioning toward a tall woman with short black hair leaning against a wall, her arms folded defiantly. “How about you, Annie? Oh, sorry, time of the month?”

As the woman shot a middle finger to the group, Famine turned his head to catch sight of her visage. He locked eyes with her, inciting an instantaneous barrage of neurons that seemed to fire all at once. Distorted images and sounds flooded his mind but quickly receded.

“No,” he thought, shaking his head. “It couldn’t be.”

”How did you lose that arm anyway, squirt?” inquired Buck.

“Let’s just say he crossed paths with a rogue doctor. Now, is my room still intact?” Gary responded.

“Yes, you can crawl back to your hole at any time,” replied Buck. “We’ll set up the geek here in one of the barracks, but Brick still has to sign off on him,”

“Just call him Famine,” said Gary.

“Oh, scary,” whispered Buck under his breath. “Of course you would give him a stupid-ass nickname.”

Gary stopped in his tracks and pointed at Famine. “While I get to work, I figure he could be trained,”

Buck did a double take. “Training? You don’t mean wrestling, do you?”

Gary said nothing.

“Just fuck off, will you? This ain’t a wrestling school anymore, man,” Buck swung his arm at the smattering of wrestling rings. “It’s recreational shit at this point. You been downstairs lately? And this guy is missing a fuckin’ arm!”

“I know what this place is, Buck. And he knows how to wrestle. But I feel it would benefit him to hone the use of his left arm until a new right one can be made.”

“Okay, then,” Buck replied with a smile. “Climb on into that ring there.”

Buck walked toward a room with the door slightly cracked. Behind a desk was a bearded, well-built man. At the sight of Buck, he slammed a knife he had been polishing into a brick of cocaine,“What do you want, Buck?”

“Looks like ol’ Gary is back, Blade. Said something about you wrestling his friend,”

“Damn it, Buck, you’re bringing me down from my high. Fine.” replied Blade.

Famine stood in the ring as the building became silent. Buck escorted Blade to the ring as he jumped onto the apron and entered the ring. The two circled each other for a short time before Famine ran toward him with the intent to deliver a left-handed clothesline, but Blade’s boot met Famine’s skull, sending him between the top and middle rope. Famine was able to hold on, reach his feet once again, and charge at Blade with his left arm cocked. Blade reversed the charge into an armdrag, which he transitioned into an armbar. Famine grunted in immense pain.

“Is this a joke?” Blade exclaimed, letting go.

“Just what you’d expect from a man that got walloped by some yuppie doctor.” laughed Buck as he walked away.

Gary slowly twisted his mustache and sighed.


In the aftermath of the quasi-wrestling match, and within the barracks of the compound, ceiling lights flickered in conjunction with Famine’s pounding head as he pondered upon his visage in a dirty bathroom mirror. He ran his hand through his hair before turning a squeaky faucet which produced black water. He squeezed his eyes shut and thrust his left arm at the glass. It did not make contact as it was stopped by a hand gripping it. He opened his eyes to meet the same eyes of the woman from earlier.

“Hurting your other arm even more probably is not in your best interest,” she said, releasing her grip.

“Just go away, please,” replied Famine.

The woman let out a hearty guffaw, “What’s your problem, Shitsqueak? My brother isn’t know to go easy.”

“That guy was your brother?”

“Well, yeah. Now, you see, we've both been shot and burned,” she continued. “We may not have anything on losing an entire arm, but you’ll never catch us sulking about it.”

“I am not sulking. I still don’t even understand what this place even is,”

“Look, I can’t talk about that right now. I’ll just say that to us, here, science is a business. To Gary, it’s life. You have to choose your perspective or you’ll be stuck in the middle like him.”

Gary suddenly appeared in the doorway.

“We have some business downstairs in the furnace room.”

As Gary and Famine seemingly exited the room, Annie scooped up Famine’s backpack and quickly perused its contents, shaking her head at her findings. She slung it over her shoulder before moving out to tail the group. As she approached the door frame, Gary emerged perturbed in the doorway.

“I would suggest minding your own business for now.”


Annie, Buck, Famine, and Gary took a freight elevator to a lower level of the compound. Stepping out of it into a corridor, they passed a barred door leading to another, darker corridor. It was locked by what appeared to be a retinal scanner. The echoes of screams and whirring machinery emanated softly from beyond it.

Famine and Gary reached the furnace; fragments of bullets, bone, and glass crunching beneath their feet. The ragingly soft glow of the flames of a furnace, encapsulated by the weathered metal shell of the oven, reflected in the eyes of Famine.

“Hey,” a female voice rang out as Annie tossed Famine his backpack.

Famine undid the zipper to the backpack, revealing a gas mask and trench coat. Annie nodded with approval as Famine, without pause, tossed the articles into the furnace.

"That's your entrance gear," exclaimed Gary. "What are you doing?"

"That's not entrance gear," said Annie. "That's style without substance!"

A hand gripped Famine’s left shoulder startling him. Famine turned his head to see Blade’s mug as he too gave a nod of approval, "Yeah, I'll say."

“I should hate a weak thing like you,” said Blade. “And I still might. But it’s like I know you from somewhere.”

Famine rifled through the bag once more and pulled out a cold metal object wrapped in linen cloth. This time, Famine gave pause and contemplated upon the image of his reflection in the arm before feeding the arm into the flaming throat of the furnace. These flames, in particular, reflected differently in his eyes; the arm melting like the dreams of a small child. Gary stood behind the shockingly embracing trio of Famine, Blade, and Annie, his chin resting disparagingly on his tightly gripped knuckle.

3 Weeks Later
En Route to Glasgow, Scotland​

A muffled exterior rumble compliments a dark and rumbling interior. Gary and Famine sit next to each other within the confines of a cargo plane.

Famine: So, are they just going to meet us there?

Gary: Yes, and that is certainly for the best.

Gary gives pause.

Gary: Considering how fond they have become of you. Remember, trust me and me only.

Famine: I’m just afraid they’ll do something stupid. Like cost me my chance at another legacy title shot.

Gary takes a deep breath and leans his lead back.

Gary: I have given them very specific instructions. Just consider them akin to a chemical reaction you cannot look at without going blind. You just need to appreciate the satisfaction of knowing it's there. How’s the arm?

Famine rotates the wrist of his seemingly new metal arm. Red ambient light reflect softly off of it.

Famine: This will be my first match since I got it. What do we know about this Axel Way character?

Gary: You know it's impossible to get a read on these people from the television alone. But from what I've heard, one more of many misfits and outcasts. He's undefeated, though, so this should be more than an adequate assessment of the arm's performance. Don't consider this a match you have to win, however. In fact, I would go easy on yourself and give minimal effort.

The plane hits slight turbulence.

Famine: If I don't win this match, we won't get a shot at Dr. Nero. We won't get a shot at redemption.

Gary becomes visibly agitated.

Gary: Redemption should be the last thing on your mind. Such thoughts have destroyed nations and worlds themselves. Simply competing again is one little victory enough. Now, when we arrive, I'm going to need to find and talk to, uh, Clem. Clement. Yes, that's it.

Famine: Talk to him about what? A potential stipulation for the title match? Are you going to be out there for my match tonight?

Gary turns away from Famine and whispers to himself, gripping his knuckle until it turns white.

Gary: I will not allow these calculated risks to fail and make a mockery of my dream.

6,151 Posts


Total domination. The referee’s hand slaps the mat for the third time and the loud noise that from the crowd, whether it was boos or cheers means nothing to Nero. The bell rings, and he rises from the mat. The bright lights catches his eye for a second as he gleams down at his so called challenger. “It was almost too easy”, he thinks to himself.

As the referee awards Nero his Legacy Championship belt and raises his hand, Nero as always calculates the situation. A million thoughts running through his head at once. Did Islami carry an injury into this match? Was he ill? Or ... has Nero himself even underestimated his own ability?

This man who is responsible for his only loss here in PWC, who has tormented his valet, who has lived and breathed a vendetta against him, was absolutely no match for him. Has Nero gone to another level even he thought not possible?

Nero starts to smirk as he won’t accept another title challenge from Islami in the near future. His rival is in his rear view, because only just ahead is a third Legacy title defence and then a shot at the Heavyweight Championship of the World.

Whatever the reasoning is to how the match played out, he will have to decipher in the coming days, as Islami doesn’t know when he is beaten. And Nero is forced to put him down a second time!

Suddenly the lights go out and his moment of victory is stolen from him.... again! After that showing of absolute supremacy who would dare this time???? Nero looks up not holding back any emotion this time. He is livid as Famine’s handler appears on the screen. Once again this fool has disrespected him! Nero scans the entrance ramp and looks up at the screen taking in what surroundings “Gary” is broadcasting from. But silhouettes start appearing behind him, and Nero takes a step back.

Like lightning Nero realises that with Famine’s return from the shelf he put him on, has put his third title defence in jeopardy. Nero almost didn’t break a sweat against Islami, but he’s sweating now. These psychotic Plague Fiends could very well derail his plans, and that is something that just cannot come to be!!!!


Lightning splits the sky over Seattle, followed by a crack of thunder so loud it could wake the dead. Nero sits up straight in his bed, his massive frame covered in sweat. He looks over at Ellie who sleeps soundly beside him. Grabbing a folded neatly robe, he makes his way to his living room. Staring back at him on his mantelpiece is the Legacy title.

“That damn psycho Gary and his freak show”, he thinks to himself.

Nero knows he is not afraid of them, even if there are five monsters coming after him. In his nightmare though, one of the silhouettes revealed themselves as his mentor, the man still laying unconscious in a hospital bed, because of him.

There has only ever been one thing that has ever scared Nero. The fear of failure.

“These bastards could stop me from his ultimate goal. Showing the world that I am the very best at everything I do”.... ”A plan must be formulated... “

But before Nero can even think about it he sees on his table the file. The file he paid handsomely for. The file that if found in his possession could send him back to prison and his lawyer joining him.

Nero’s very well paid lawyer delivered his mentor’s medical file. Nero had stated that he will atone for his sin. He will right his wrong, and bring the man lying in a comatose state by his hands, back to the land of the living.


Ellie awakens with the sunrise. She turns over to see Nero is missing. Walking out in one his shirts, she sees the longue room floor littered with papers and forms and x-rays. She makes her way to the balcony overlooking the city. Sitting in a chair is Nero cross referencing two documents against a very large medical journal.

“Morning Jason.... how long have you been up?” Nero doesn’t answer and continues to study another document. Ellie knows better than to interrupt him so moves to the kitchen to put on some coffee. She looks over her shoulder to see him move back to the scattered file and checking two x-rays against each other. She can see how frustrated he is and tries to offer a kind word. Nero finally looks at her. His eyes almost like a diamond drill cutting deep into her. She steps back as he flings the x-rays across the room in a rage. Ellie runs to his side, “you can do it Jason. You know you are the only one who can help him.”

“I am the only one who can help him. Because I’m the one who attacked him!”.

Nero’s photographic memory plays the incident over in his head again. Exactly where he struck his teacher, his friend. Exactly how long he choked him. Exactly how hard he threw the man into an object, and where that object struck the body. Nero can picture it all.

“But the file doesn’t add up to what I did to him. There is something missing. I need to examine him.”

“You know the family won’t let you anywhere near him.”

“They’re fools”

“They’re scared of you Jason. It’s a miracle you didn’t kill him.”

“I didn’t kill him because I didn’t want to. If I did, he would be. I know exactly what I did to him, that’s why this bullshit file doesn’t add up.”

The two stare at each other for what seems like an age when a notification on Nero’s phone breaks the silence. Ellie checks the message as Nero walks off to grab another book from his library. As he pulls a huge book from the shelf she asks him if he wants the good news or the bad news..

“The good news is you’ve got what you wanted.”


“You’re in the main event this week. The bad news is that you are in a tag match. You have to rely on someone else to win. You’re teaming with Darius against Daiko and... wow Xander Black.”

Nero’s head turns, looking more at the phone in Ellie’s hand than her. He pauses and then smiles.

“Looks like Ernesto is doing my work for me. Get me Darius on the phone.”

Ellie loves it when her man gets a twinkle in his eye, it looks like he has a plan.


Nero stands on his terrace overlooking his city of Seattle. Ellie places his phone in front of him.

“Mr Black, I have Dr Nero for you now”, she places it on loud speaker as Darius’ voice booms through the speaker.

“Oh you’ve got Dr Nero for me do you!? Huh!? Do you know what damn time it is!”

“Darius, Nero here.”

“Listen up Nero, I don’t like being woken up and then summoned by your friggin’ secretary. Do you have any idea who I am? I am the one that allows you to run around and rule that mid card, while me and my boys run the damn show. You have the success you do, because I allow it.”

“...... Darius, now that you’ve got that off your chest, have you seen that Clements is teaming us together this week...”

“Of course I have. There was no way that bastard Xander was going to escape me. He cost me the damn title and he’s gonna pay with his blood.”

“I’m glad you feel that way, but, just like he got in the way of you becoming Champion of the World, something else is going to get in the way of your revenge.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You may not be aware of this as you are not too worried about what happens outside of the main event, where you and your boys play. But, the Regime have another faction moving into PWC and look to be challenging your control here.”

“I’m listening...”

“Famine and his handler have returned to PWC and they are bringing three guys with them. That makes them a collective of four. They threatened me and in doing so, since we are teaming together, they’ve threatened you and possibly your chance of redemption at Xander Black.”

“I know you think you’re smart Nero. But you aint tricking the Regime into fighting your battles for you. I’m hanging up.”

“Darius. It’s a mutual benefit situation. On Vortex, I have your back so you get your revenge. You and the Regime have my back and, collectively, the four of us can eradicate these cockroaches before they even think about trying to make a move on your control here in PWC.”

The phone goes silent. Nero stands there. A stalemate, hunched over the phone. His hands balled up into fists. He knows the next person to speak loses.

“Nero. I don’t trust anybody. I’m going to talk to the boys. And you’ll have my answer at Vortex. But just so you know, I want Xander’s head. If you even slightly get in my way, or if these freaks keep me from my revenge, it’ll be on your head. And those freaks will be the least of your problems Doc....”

Darius hangs up. Nero smirks. Ellie jumps up into the arms of the Legacy Champion, as he carries her to the bedroom.


Nero catches a man with a boot to the gut. He shoves the man between his legs and flips him up over his head. Trainers stand around the ring at Nero’s highly advanced training facility and watch Nero use his new finisher.

He holds the man high above his head like the Razor’s edge and then sits –out in a powerbomb like motion, spiking the man on the back of his neck and head!!! The man goes limp. The move is absolutely ferocious! Guys with iPads and clipboards all rush to the man’s aid as Nero slips out of the ring without a second thought and grabs a towel.

Nero is new to the game of professional wrestling, but he keeps evolving, he knows that he is now only one Legacy title defence away from becoming the Champion of the World. No one must be able to withstand his attack. His new finisher, Time of Death, is the new key to that. Nero knows exactly what type of man Xander Black is. A man driven by his emotions. He doesn’t play well with others, making his team with Daiko simply in name only.

At Vortex, he will not fail. He will not lose. He will not be stopped. It doesn’t matter if the obstacle is his mentor’s coma, an army of incoming monsters or the white haired Samurai Champion of the World. Nero will conquer them all, like the God that he is......

¡Hala Madrid ⛧ Tricampeones!
1,007 Posts

A camera is starting to record, there's a thin light in the room but no show of anything whatsoever. Until a man comes from nowhere, he walks back and forth seems worried for a moment until he finally stops and decide to talk to the camera.

I keep a close watch on this heart of mine, I keep my eyes wide open all the time because I know they will come for my and I won't be an easy target. I keep reminding myself that I’m innocent before giving up to this madness. I walk on the edge every day. Night and day I try to keep only the good memories close to me to prove your existence, to prove that you were real Katherine.

Frank, I should apologize, you were always there for me watching my steps. Everyone I know goes away in the end. I let you down, I couldn’t protect her. The wounds in my body are still fresh. They hurt. The pain is the only thing that feels real right now. A needle that tears a hole and the old guilty comes again. What I have become? But does the guilt really exist?

I wear this crown of thorns upon my sane head full of broken thoughts I cannot repair. Beneath the stains of time the feeling disappear you have gone, and I'm still here. If I could start again a million miles away I would keep myself I would find a way... I swear.

Suddenly there's a big noise behind the door a bunch of cops trying to take down the door.

Police officer: Crowley, open the door is the police you’ve no way to run.

Crowley: I have no desire to let pigs like you put a foot on my apartment.

Police Officer: Crowley, either we resolve this in the easiest way or in the most violently way.

Crowley is close to the door holding a bottle of spray and a baseball bat.

Crowley: Never!! you scums are accusing me of something I've never done.

Police Officer: No one is accusing you of anything we all know you’re guilty. You were the last person who saw your wife for the last time.

Crowley: The first time I ask for help and this is what happens... The cops finally take down the door... Crowley holds the bottle of spray and matches, when the cops burst in he torches one of them, then lights the stairs while running up them. He then uses the baseball bat to hit another cop before leaping through the bedroom's window. While trying to get up he is surrounded and beaten, one of the cops proceeds to handcuff him. he had blood on his face and an arm broken. Was judged and sentenced to 3 years of prision for an homicide attempt and for being the only suspect of his wife disappearance.

In prision Crowley is subject to regular mental treatment from a clinical psychologist by the name of Mike bundy. He examines Crowley's opinions about the banished of his wife, with no luck.

Crowley's time in prision consisted of relentless death treats. At one incident on the food line, a tall guy named Hoylt holds a prisioner shiv to his back and Crowley grabs a canister of a hot cooking fat, smashing it into Hoylt's face giving him severe burns on his face. As the guard hauls Crowley to solitary confinemet he screams to the other inmates. "None of you understan, I'm not locked up in here with you, you're locked up in here with me".

In solitary confinemet Crowley struggles the loneliness trys to feel some sort of relief hitting the walls of his cell, screaming day and night until he finally fall asleep. One day a guard approches to his cell and hit the cold door your weak screams won't change the fact that you're here locked freak. The guard laughs loud that enrage the rest of the inmates. What are you mad, are all of you mad... as soon as he walks towards the end of the hall to finally left the Solitary COnfinement Unit.

The darkness of that cold cell could testify how broken was Crowley.

I tried please believe me.
I'm doing the best I can.
I'm ashamed of the things I've been put through.
I'm ashamed of the person I am... but if you could see the nightmare.
These things I could never describe, I feel like I'm becoming in another person.
Is this my curse.

3 years later.

Crowley was released after 4 years. The scars on his body were soon covered in ink.



2 hours before Vortex, outside of the SSE Hydro Arena.

Crowley set up a camera and put him over his 1968 black Camaro SS styled coupe. Wearing a black jacket a black jeans and holding his crucifix looks directly to the camera. Here is your interview Danny Ericksen I won't be like the rest of the guys who have gave you a proper interview, I don't have time for you or for that stupid crowd that worships everything that those fluffy wrestler make or even the ones who attempt to be tough guys.

I'm gonna do this quickly. I'm just evil biologically listen all of you I am not possibly associated with your democracy, you are in the presence of a divine science, earth is my property. I'm not part of God's colony. I'm disgusted and dissatisfied, I never apolgize and I don't walk around being a joke on a bicycle and a box of pizza.

Turn the other way cause you wants no part of this Gino, I know what violence begets, timeless regrets. I'm more like a shooter and shooter do what a shooter please, you'll be my target practice run to Rome before I spit on your grave. The Devil has a mic on my brain has a good advice to retain, what's not to like about the guy who had Christ slain.

I have to hide the remains, I have to buy ties that can bind and restain I have to find lives to retain. Don't provoke me and don't make loaded questions I don't go for one soul I want the whole collection. Do you want to be part of my collection Gino?

I'll send you this Danny this is all you have from my part.

the camera stop recording.

All good things must come to an end.
14,025 Posts

Mental Institution - Cafeteria

Darius and Dominic are stood and leaned against the back wall of the Cafeteria overlooking all of the patients. Darius’ runs his hands through his head, we can see the purple underneath his eyes, and the clear effects of sleep deprivation. Dominic is slightly more energetic, pacing around and trying to keep Darius aware.

Dominic: What do you do all Night seriously? Do you just spend the Night jerking off or what? I don’t understand..

Darius: I think the better question is why you’re so energetic to be in this place? I mean look at it, you’re HAPPY to be in this? Just look over there, a an absolute shower of filth and wasted resources.

Dominic: You sure are a great guy to be around, you know that?

Darius: I have been told that on a fair few occasions.

Dominic: By fucking who?

Darius: Me, Myself and I.

Darius smirks with his eyes still barely even open, Dominic shoves him to look over to the right side of the Cafeteria.

Dominic: Isn’t that the dude you hit with a tray?

Darius: I don’t know, maybe, what’s he look like?

Dominic: Uh, well, quite scrawny and got one of those faces you’d gladly punch?

Darius: Probably. I bet he’s looking over here right?

Darius attempts to look over to the right of the Cafeteria, getting blinded by the gleaming sun coming through the windows.

Dominic: Yup. What are you gonna’ do?

Darius: What am I going to do? Nothing. That’s the type of guy that will wait until I’m alone and then use that opportunity to jump me. In other words, a pussy. The very definition of the word.

Dominic: Is there a point in time where you stop talking shit, can I get a DeLorean and travel to that point?

Darius: Or better yet, I get one and travel to the time before we met, so I don’t have to listen to you ramble on about absolute shite every day.

Dominic: That’s cold man, real cold.

Darius: You were thinking the exact same thing, be honest for once in your life.

Dominic: Nope, despite all your flaws, which there are very many of, I actually quite like you. It’s a love and hate relationship we have going on..

Darius: Correctly translated, you with all the love and me with the absolute hate and wanting to nut you one each time I see you..

Dominic: Sounds about right.


Late Night Club - Glasgow, Scotland - Two Night Ago

It’s late, but the night scene is still booming. Darius is sat at the front end of the game pushing a glass back and forth between his hands. He sits there, almost oblivious to all the partying surrounding him. He looks around the club with a distant look in his eyes, almost like he just woke up in an alleyway with no idea how he got there.

Barman: Hey man, I usually don’t do this, but do you want me to call somebody? You don’t look too hot, and you’ve been sat there without a drink for the past few hours.

Darius: Look, ‘mate’ if I wanted something from your poxy little night club, I’d fucking ask for it, would I not?

Darius’ in a fit of rage pushes several glasses off the table, the Barman clearly pissed grabs a hold of Darius by the neck and shoves him out of the nearest door.

Barman: Don’t come back, you prick.

Darius looks around at the black sky, wondering how late it is, or where exactly he is now. He looks over at the bins to notice a Man and a Lady clearly having sex. Barely giving a damn, Darius leans against the wall and pulls out a cigarette. The couple notices Darius watching.

Man: HEY! Hey you over there, what do you think you’re looking at motherfucker..

Woman: Well, do something then!

The man begins to approach Darius, Darius just continues to enjoy his Cigarette completely oblivious to anything the man is saying.

Man: What do you think this is, some fucking peep show? Get the fuck out of here, before you regret it you piece of shit.

The man begins to become even more impatient with Darius’ no response.

Man (con’t): Look at you stood there, in your little poxy little outfit. Have you seen this guy, what an entitled prick. Did your mommy buy you that?

Darius all of a sudden perks up, and drops the Cigarette on the guys foot. Rubbing it out in the process..

Darius: You honestly think I’d want to watch your scrawny ass attempt to having something akin to sex? It’s probably not even big enough mate, she’s probably had enough dick to last her a life time, and you, well I bet you’ve had a few dicks as well.

Man: LISTEN HERE YOU LITTLE FUCKER, we don’t like you fucks around here, you yank fucks. Absolute scum of the earth, you’re going to wish you never even met me pal.

Darius: Go ahead. Try me.

The Woman suddenly grabs a bottle from the ground and violently smashes it against the wall. She passes the half bottle to the man.

Woman: You’ve really fucked up now.

The man attempts to smash Darius, but Darius grabs a hold of his arm and knees him in the gut aggressively and repeatedly before grabbing the bottle and smashing him over the head with a huge thud. The woman can be heard screaming and running away, as Darius watches on as the man pathetically drops to his feet. He calmy nudges him off with his boot, even wiping his boot down on the man’s clothes before walking off down the alley.


Cafe - Glasgow, Scotland - One Day Ago

The close-up on the clock reveals it’s 8:30AM in the morning. As we pan over to Darius, he’s got his head between his hands collapsed on the table. The Waitress approaches Darius, calmy placing her hand on his shoulder.

Waitress: Sir, are you okay, could I get you a Coffee?

Darius: That would be great, don’t worry, it’s just because I haven’t had much sleep.

Waitress: What happened to your arm?

Darius: Oh, I didn’t notice it, I must have cut it when I was working on my house, a bit of advice don’t ever do DIY if you don’t know what you’re doing.

The Waitress laughs, Darius looks at his cut unaware of how it even got there. He looks around the Cafe barely even able to keep his eyes open due to the brightness of the sun outside. The Diner is fairly quiet due to it being fairly off the map and quite early. Darius, grabs a used newspaper from the seat next to him, flicking through it but not really caring to read anything. Darius talks to himself as the Waitress slowly approaches him.

Darius: I was expecting some naked chick to make-up for the time I spent flicking through this, but nope, just another shitty tabloid filled with Z-List Celebrities.

Waitress: Here you go sir, can I get you anything else? I’ve got some plasters in the back if you want one?

Darius: No, don’t worry yourself about it, it’s stopped bleeding now anyway.

Waitress: Well don’t say I didn’t ask.

Darius: I won’t.

Darius half-asleep and barely remembering a thing from the previous night, places his hands around the hot steaming cup of tea. He looks off distantly through the Window at the cars passing, barely even coming to a conclusion with himself why he is in this Life. Until he realizes, his phone, he grabs it in pain with his injured arm, and looks at his latest ‘calls’ to see Lucy. That was a few days ago, he looks back up and back down again at the phone wanting to call her but not being able to bring himself to do it.


The SSE Hydro Backstage - Glasgow, Scotland - Current

It’s a change of pace, Darius isn’t in his usual spot in the halls asking to be disturbed, he’s sat in an empty and private room far away from where the interviews take place, preventing Erickson from being able to find or interview him. Darius pulls a Camera from the box next to him and places it on the box he’s facing, he presses the record button and begins to speak in to the camera.

Darius: I don’t even know why I’m here tonight, some of you mere mortals out there might just look at what happened at Desolation and think “Big deal, it’s just a loss.” those are the kind of people I hate. The kind of people that accept mediocrity, the kind of people that hare happy cleaning toilets like some slave for a minimum wage. Well, that’s not me. Believe it not, some people actually want to live up to their aspirations. Not just stick it on their wall, and not even try to achieve it..
Darius is clearly disturbed, and shaky. His hair is ragged, his clothes are torn, and large bags are present underneath his eyes. He pulls himself closer to the camera manically shaking his head, and scratching his hair in a crazed fashion..

Darius: On Sunday, I HAD it and then like always, someone had to interfere. We COULDN’T just be left to fight, some poxy little wrestler that nobody cares about or ever cared about for that matter comes out of the woodwork, showing off his little moves like anyone even cares about his presence. Xander you better run, and you better keep running. Run off to fucking fairyland because believe me when I get hold of this that this won’t be any fucking wrestling match, this is war, you want to ignite the fire back up? Well I’m just going to keep it burning, until you’re a asset and contributing to the flames.

Darius lets out a huge fit of rage, smashing several assets of the room, and shaking the camera in a spiral fashion, hinting at his state of mind in the process.

Darius: ...this is what I feel like right now. Oh, and don’t even get me started on those pathetic excuses for commentators, A SLIGHT ASSIST? HE COST ME THE BIGGEST MOMENT OF MY ENTIRE CAREER. Everyone at home and in the arena knows I would have won the Championship, all those pathetic little kids too young to even be watching my craft, all chanting for oooh Kyle Eric ooh, the stupid punk. Oh, and also worrying about Xander’s state of mind? The person you want to be worried about is me, what you think I’m going to turn over and ignore that any of this happened? This is war and I’m the centerfold of that fucking war.

Darius launches his fist directly in to the lens of the Camera causing the camera to lose picture. Sounds of any scuffle can be heard on the Audio, as can Darius as his can be heard shouting once again in another fit of rage.


1,685 Posts
Ignore all previous RP's (story portion) since about a few shows before Hell's Judgment. Plz, thank you.

Vortex 12

Xander Black rose to a seated position, a ringing sound in his ears and a pounding pain in his head. Before him stood Darius Black, grinning and staring at his friend, “Dominic”, and after a moment, he brings the weapon down onto Xander’s head. More ringing and more pain. He wouldn’t back down though, after losing the World Heavyweight Championship, his losing streak coming to a pitiful end, he would take his beating from this crazy son of a bitch.

Xander tries his best to get up and fight, but his opponent brings the weapon crashing down onto his skull once more. The crowd let out a massive sigh as the former World Heavyweight Champion loses all will to fight.

Black’s head falls to the mat and his eyes look at the stage where two men are walking down the ramp, towards him and towards the ring. His most hated rival, Freddie Vos and his partner, Derek Jacobs. “Great,” he murmurs to himself, listening to the groan of the crowd and the frantic pants of his (last) namesake behind him. “Just what I need.”

Freddie and his partner climb into the ring and share a glance with Darius. Xander rolls onto his stomach, attempting to get up and notices some security guards try to help, but they are fended off and Vos locks Xander in his own submission hold. Whilst stuck in the excruciating hold, many thoughts go through his head, including his loss of the title, the streak and the fact that nobody backstage is arriving to help. Typical, he thought.


One Day After Vortex 12
The Beginning V2.0​

A haze surrounds him as he begins to waken, slowly and disorientated.

He looks around the soft white room, lots of machines beside his bed and a bright light that made him think this is what heaven would look like. Then he realized how stupid that would be and tried to get up. His eyes slowly scanned the room until they came upon Beth, sleeping peacefully on a small chair, curled up in a ball.

“God,” he said as he struggled to get into a seated position.

Beth stirs awake on the chair and looks across at Xander, her eyes shining at him like the blue of an ocean with no end. “About time you woke up, I thought it was just me who was allowed to be in comas.”

“I was in a coma?” Xander said and felt the soft polka dot clothes. “I’m in hospital?”

Beth nodded with a grin. “No and yes. You weren’t in a coma, just resting. You needed it after that beating you got. The great Xander Black, laid up in a hospital bed while Darius gets your title shot.”

A small smile accompanied the jest, an attempt at getting Xander to smile but the pain prevented him from evening cracking a small grin. “When do I get out of here?”

Beth shook her head, standing up and walking across the ground. She sat on the bed beside him. “Doc says a few more days. Clement phoned by the way.”

“Yeah?” Xander said, looking up and at the door. The way out. He contemplated just leaving but knew he’d get in a lot of trouble from PWC management for that. “What did he want? Probably thrilled that I got put in the hospital. Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if he set that up.”

“I doubt it,” she smiled. “He was actually very nice. Told me to pass on his regards and he hopes you get better soon, but he says he’s giving you a lot of time off to recuperate.”

Xander shook his head. “Time off. How long?”

“A year.”

“You must be joking,” he said. “Does he really think I’ll need a year to get back to normal? A few weeks at most.”

Beth’s face changed. Her usual perky demeanour completely transformed into a seriousness, almost thoughtful expression. “You know, you did it. You won the title, that’s what you wanted. Look at you now, in hospital and in a lot of pain. This is going to sound strange, but have you thought about retiring?”

“What?” he said almost instantly. “No way.”

Beth stood up. “Come on, Xander. Look at you, you look like you should be in a home. You can barely move.”

“I went through too much to just give up now. I lost the title, which means I want it back. I’m not taking a year off, and I’m certainly not retiring. I want my title back, Beth, but that can wait, because once I’m out of here, with or without Clements say so, I’m returning to PWC and I’m going after Freddie Vos, Derek Jacobs and Darius Black.”

Backstage – After Desolation​

Xander Black trudged through the backstage area, ignoring the looks from the PWC staff and a couple of the newer PWC wrestlers. He’s then stopped by his old pal, the ever popular Danny Eriksen.

“Xander,” he begins, shoving a microphone in the returnees face. “You’re back. Can you explain-“

The former PWC Champion rips the microphone from Danny’s grasp and looks at the camera. “One month I was on the injured list for. Some thought I would never make it back, but I did. In the coming weeks, Freddie Vos – Derek Jacobs – and Darius Black, I’m going to make your lives a living hell. With or without help.”

Xander storms off down the hallway.

Pre-Taped Segment
Before Vortex​

Danny Eriksen: Tonight, Xander, you face off against Darius Black and Dr. Nero in a tag team match, with your partner Daiko. Your thoughts?”

Xander Black: Any match where I get my hands on Darius is a good one. The Regime will have to wait. They put me on the injured list after a brutal attack – an attack by the way where I was left high and dry. Nobody came to help me, so don’t get what I did at Desolation twisted, I wasn’t helping my old ‘buddy’ Kyle Elric, I was simply getting some revenge. The PWC World Title is in my future, but right now I am dealing with The Regime and Darius Black. With or without help, I’ll take them apart one by one until I am ready to take back the World Title.​

1,329 Posts

“Men who fear demons see demons everywhere.”

16 years ago, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, Family residence of Bruce Snr. and Martha Thorn
The sound of the night permeated through the darkness in my room, the sound of distant crickets outside my window hamming a familiar tune. Only the red and yellow light from the lava lamp next to my bed flickered in the darkness. My mother had given it me to help me sleep, a lot of 9-year-olds were afraid of the dark she said, for some reason that lamp didn’t work that night.

A noise broke the cricket’s song outside my window. What was it? I couldn’t move paralysed with fear. My mom, dad and infant sister were sound asleep in the rooms next door. They must have heard it, it’ll all be okay. More noise, this time downstairs. My heart was pounding, my mouth so dry. Couldn’t Dad hear any of this? Footsteps coming up the stairs, each more menacing than the next. Please wake up Dad.

The creaking sound of my parent’s door slowly opening. I pulled the blankets over my head. It didn’t muffle the sound of my mother’s screams. It didn’t muffle my father’s voice.

Who are you people? Take whatever you want, just leave my family alone, I have kids in the other rooms.

I couldn’t hear what the dark voice’s reply was; all I heard was more screams from my mother. Pleading for mercy; mercy for her husband, mercy for me, mercy for Barbara.

I heard a thud on the floor; my mother screaming to leave her alone. My father shouting. I needed to help them; I needed to help Barbara. I pulled the blankets from over my head. I lifted my lead filled body from my bed. My legs were shaking, my heart about to bust open from my chest. I pushed my door open enough for me to see into my parent’s room without them seeing me.

Three men clad in black, all wearing ski masks with guns in their hands. One was holding my crying mother down to the floor with a gun to her head. The other 2 with their guns trained on my father who sat there so vulnerable, more vulnerable than I’ve ever seen him in my life. A man I had watched beat world champions, become a world champion since the day I was born was paralysed with fear, watching everything that meant anything to him being destroyed before his very eyes.

Please just leave them alone, take what you want, we won’t call the police. We haven’t even seen your faces. You can……

One of those bastards cut him off, his sleeves were rolled up. He had a tattoo on his forearm, some sort of demon face with green horns, red eyes and a red mouth.

We don’t want your money Thorn, all we want is your blood.

He nodded to the one with the gun to mom’s head. He hit her with the butt of the pistol and knocked her to the floor. My father wouldn’t stand for that, he leaped at them, but the red eyed demon…

1 shot, 2 shots, 3 shots and it was over.

Dad fell to the floor in a heap. The red eyed demon kneeled down beside him. He laughed. I’ll never forget that laugh. That evil laugh, so full of hate.

He motioned to the other two to check the rest of the house. I needed to move, Barbara needed me to move. With whatever strength and courage I could muster I moved quickly to my open window, climbed out and hang onto the gutter on the outside and closed the window halfway down behind me. I could hear one of those bastards in my room throwing things around, looking for me.

I can’t find the other little shit Boss.

Leave him, he’s probably hiding somewhere. He can’t hide from the flames though. Burn everything.

The red eyed demons voice, what did he mean? What about Barbara? The gun shots had woken her up and she was crying.

I could smell something, a strong overpowering smell. It was gasoline. I knew what they wanted to do. I needed to get inside.

Light it.

The door to the outside of our house flew open; they had done what they came for. I climbed back in as quickly as I could without them seeing me. They jumped in their car and sped off. Barbara was still crying which brought me solace because at least I knew she was alive. There was smoke everywhere. I could feel the heat from the flames fill the house. I felt that paralysing fear again, but I needed to get to her. I kicked the door of her room open and picked her up; I needed to get her out of the house. I passed by mom and dad’s room. Dad was there motionless and helpless face down covered in blood. There was blood everywhere.

But Mom she was still breathing, she was still alive. I grabbed her by the shirt and pulled her as hard as I could. I needed to get her out too. I didn’t have the strength. I was just a little boy with his sister in another arm, I was too weak. The strength leaving me with every cough from my smoke filled lungs. I couldn’t leave her there, this was it. This is the end. I’d failed them both.

Suddenly I hear a voice behind me.

Come’on Bruce.

It was Uncle Tommy and his wife from next door; they’d heard the commotion and were in our house.

Wait mom, she’s still alive.

Hotel Room, Glasgow Scotland, 1 day before Vortex

Get up Bruce.

I opened my eyes to see Uncle Tommy standing over me with that sour expression on his face I’d come to know all too well now.

I’m up. my eyes heavy with sleepless sleep

Tommy sits down beside me, face full of thunder.

What are you doing on that sofa Bruce? One day before one of the biggest matches in your career against Jensen and Hollander and your sleeping on this sofa, probably stiffening up your shoulders and your back. You’re getting complacent Bruce, you think the momentum we got from that win at Desolation will mean anything if you can’t get the job done at Vortex, you think……

I tuned Tommy out. All I could think about was the nightmare I’d just had. The nightmare I’ve had for 16 years now. That same dream, that same dark thing with red eyes and green horns standing over my family with blood on his hands, blood everywhere.

I was just watching some tape of Jensen and Hollander and fell asleep Uncle Tom. I got the game plan down. You know better than to think I’d get complacent.

Fine, the game plan now.

Hollander is an animal, an angry animal, a complete hothead. He has no regard for the rules, no regard for anyone but himself.

A man after my own heart, but what you have over him is..

What I have over him is my athleticism, my skill as a wrestler. Counter him, wear him down and finish him off. And then we have Jensen. I remember seeing him a few times on the Indy scene.

He has skill yes, obnoxious as hell though. Always playing up to the crowd, wasting time worrying about what those idiots think.

I'm going to overpower him a few times and try and get into his head, bruise his ego so he loses focus. We’ve gone through this a million times Uncle Tom. I’m not taking either of them for granted. No need to worry.

Good to hear son.

Eh, look Bruce, you were talking again in your sleep when I came in.

Tommy put his hand on my shoulder, the angry face turned into the concerned face, not one I was used to.

You’re getting the nightmares again and Roy told me about what happened with that kid in the gym.
You dislocated his jaw with that kick Bruce, he’ll be out of action for who knows how long.

I wish Roy would keep his mouth shut.

Maybe that thing you keep building inside you just needs an outlet, maybe you should bring more of that to your ringwork.

I could see it again, the concern turning into dollar signs going off in Tommy’s head, he had no shame. He would really use this to make money off me, turn me into that monster I didn’t want to become, use that monster to hurt people and make money.

I don’t need that to be the best Tommy, the fact that you’d even consider letting me go down that road troubles me.

I could see him backtracking in his mind, trying to make up some excuse, I wouldn’t let him. He could fool and manipulate everyone else around him but not me.

You know what I really want Uncle Tommy, what I really want is for the police to do their jobs. 16 years and no leads. You know what I call that Uncle Tommy, I call that incompetence. The only thing that’ll make me feel better is those bastards’ heads on sticks. That’s the only outlet my anger needs. And if the police won’t do anything about it maybe I will.

Hold on now Bruce, you’ll do no such thing. You’re in one of the biggest wrestling promotions in the world. We’re building a brand here, a brand that’ll make our family proud, put the Thorns back on the map. You can’t jeopardize that now. Your parents wouldn’t want you to. Just give it some more time. Think about Barbara, she needs you winning World titles so we can get her the help she needs, not in the streets looking for a bunch of murderers.

Tommy’s face had gone white with fear.

So I’m supposed to just leave it Uncle Tom, forget the downward spiral our family has been on since then. It all started with that night, nothing changes that.

Clam down Bruce, let me talk to that Detective we spoke to a year or two ago when we get back home, what you need to do is focus on PWC , focus on tomorrow.

I shrugged; You're right Uncle Tom, done deal.

Tommy smiles at me and tapped me on the back of my neck. The shoe was on the other foot this time; I had told him what he wanted to hear. I wasn’t afraid of the dark anymore and I didn’t need a lava lamp to keep me safe. I wasn’t going to pull the covers over my head and pretend I didn’t hear. The only way I’d free myself from the chains from our past was to find the truth, to have the Red Eyed Demon’s blood on my hands like my family’s blood was on his.

Glasgow, Scotland, The SSE Hydro, Backstage Area

Danny Eriksen is backstage at PWC Vortex in the SSE Hydro in Glasgow. The camera pans out to reveal Tommy Thorn flanked by Bruce Thorn Jr. who have joined him.

Danny Eriksen: Please welcome my guests at this time Bruce Thorn Jr. and Tommy Thorn.

Tommy Thorn: Danny boy, how are you today. I hope you’re a better interviewer than that bias idiotic poor excuse for a colour commentator colleague of yours Charlie Campbell. *laughs* We shouldn’t laugh really, Bruce and I really admire how “professionally” he handled our match at Desolation. *laughs*

Danny Eriksen: Well today Bruce faces Robert Hollander and Jensen.

Tommy Thorn: We’re up against that vicious Robert Hollander. I man guided by his anger and fuelled by his rage. We took note at Desolation Hollander; we know exactly how good you are. He’s an animal. The problem Hollander has is that anger is the last thing you need when you step in the ring with someone like Bruce Thorn, an absolute ring general extraordinaire.

Tommy gestures toward Bruce.

Bruce will wrestle rings around you Hollander, he’ll go behind you so much you’ll think you’re stuck in a revolving door, In fact he is going to outwrestle you, outsmart you, out quick you, outthink you, Bruce is going to out you for what you are and that is completely and totally inferior to him in everyway.

Danny Eriksen: And Jensen?

Tommy Thorn: Eh, Jensen, so skilled, so smooth in that ring, the exact polar opposite to Hollander. The problem with Jensen is he wants the crowd to love him so badly; he craves their adulation like a fish craves the water, like a bird craves the skies, ah Jensen so good yet so diluted.

You see the man standing next to me doesn’t crave adulation, he demands it, he demanded it the day he was born, The Prince of Thorns. Tonight Jensen you join all the names that have become footnotes in the legend known as the Thorns.

Danny Eriksen: Speaking of the Thorn family legacy Tommy, there’s been a lot talk about the way the crowd reacted to Bruce after his win at Desolation. Some have said that your controversial past and the controversy surrounding the events your family has been through have turned the PWC fans against Bruce.

Tommy Thorn had been wearing a smile throughout the interview but that turned into a scowl as he glares at Eriksen.

Tommy Thorn: I resent that stupid question Danny boy, what about you Bruce, do you resent that question.

Bruce Thorn: It’s a stupid question to be honest.

Tommy Thorn: Exactly that’s a really stupid question. They can wrap it up anyway they want but the truth is all of them booed because they’re jealous. They’re jealous of the man Bruce is, they’re jealous of the champion Bruce will become and they’re jealous of the fact that all their favourites just can’t measure up. It’s his destiny Danny, and you can’t fight destiny.

Bruce and Tommy Thorn both look into the camera as the scene fades out.


315 Posts

CHAPTER ONE: Disappointment Is My Middle Initial

As my disappointing story begins, I am being kicked in the face. No need to worry though, a lot of stories begin this way. Most of mine do anyway. I guess you can say it is part of my job description.

For those of you who don't know me, I'm called Jensen. That is obviously not my real name. It's a name I started calling myself at a young age in order to seem a bit tougher. The reason for this is that ever since I can remember I have wanted to be a professional wrestler. And let' s be honest, the name Loren doesn't exactly strike fear into the hearts of your opponents. While "Jensen" doesn't exactly convey the message that I am a fearsome beast, it at least doesn't send the message that I belong in the woman's division.

Anyway, back to the before mentioned kick. I have been kicked in the face many times before but this particular boot to the face was bittersweet. This was the first boot to the face I had received on the grandest stage of them all, Madison Square Garden; not to mention my PWC debut. After years of wrestling in the independent scene, I have finally made it to the promised land. Unfortunately, I was facing one hardcore brawler and a man shrouded in so much mystery that we would probably never see him again.

The kick hit me with such force that it knocked me outside the ring and out of the match. It's amazing how a tumble like this makes you examine man's ongoing struggle against gravity.While I laid outside the ring, the match ended without me getting the pin.

Obviously losing this match was disappointing, especially since it was live in front of a PPV audience. I had worked for almost 8 years to get to this point, and I didn't take the opportunities given to me. I have no excuses, next time I just have to be more prepared. As my grandmother used to say, "If ifs and buts were candy and nuts, life would be f*cking surreal."

I stayed backstage after my match in order to catch the rest of Desolation, mainly to see if there was anything I can learn from the more established wrestlers. I did notice that crazy and unhinged seems to be big with the PWC universe, so maybe in the near future I will grow a goatee or something.

The crowd remained electric for the duration of the night and they were even hot for unknowns such as myself. I believe the positive reactions directed towards me was in part because of my light up Jacket.

The idea of the jacket was my idea. I feel like if I am a star, so I might as well look like one. Unfortunately, the original jacket I had envisioned wasn't "practical" or "scientifically possible" . My vision of a light jacket meant a jacket made of pure light. The one I have I have will have to do. It's like what they say, beggars can't be choosers, except if you are choosing to get a job.

After the show I decided to go for a walk and explore the city of New York. I usually take walks like these in order to reflect on life the universe and everything. Tonight however, I was thinking about my humble beginnings and the journey my wrestling career has taken me.

Growing up in Portland was actually quite nice. I had decent parents and stuff so it's not like i had to survive by selling bootleg root beer to the neighborhood kids. But while most kids my age would hang around the 8th grade band practice in order to claim they were into them before anybody else, I spent my days watching old wrestling tapes with my best friend Hunter. The moment I met him I knew we would take the wrestling world by storm. I haven't seen him in years but he is expected to debut at the next PWC show, so it looks like my predictions will come true.

While I wandered the streets I passed a hobo with a panhandler sign which read, “Metallica!”.I couldn’t tell if he liked, wanted, or was Metallica, but he got thirty five of my cents regardless. I have always wondered why the homeless never disguise themselves as fountains, I am sure they would get a lot more change.

It was very late so I headed back to my hotel room. Along the way I cut through some alleyways. A few were not so well lit so on I was on edge a few times. Nothing I couldn't handle. Still though, you have to be ready for anything.It's a shame science couldn't produce the jacket I wanted. Good luck preventing the encroaching darkness with a windbreaker!

We all have our nervous ticks. Some people bite their nails, others tap their foot. I on the other hand play with ties. I can't explain it really. As far back as I can remember uncomfortable situations make me latch onto a tie and start twirling it around. This very instant was no different.

This was my first official PWC interview and I wanted it to go well, It doesn't help that when I am forced to speak in front of a camera I come out looking like a complete fool. Danny Eriksen was the man conducting the interview. On the plus side Emma Mason nor Brittany Page were nowhere to be seen, otherwise things would get out of hand very quickly.

Danny Eriksen: You look very uncomfortable, you sure you want to do this?

Me: I think so, the PWC Universe needs to see me. I am the Superstar they deserve.

Danny Eriksen: Ok then. You can let go of my tie and sit across from me now.

I took a deep breath and went toward my designated seat. Over the years I have developed techniques to calm my nerves before an interview. One such technique is to picture yourself naked, but with a butcher knife instead of genitals. Everybody will listen to that guy.

Danny Ericksen: Good evening PWC Universe. I am sitting here with our new superstar Jensen. Jensen, welcome to the Premier Wrestling Circuit. How did it feel to make your debut in front of a Pay per View crowd?

ME: It was great you know. Just great. It has been a long time coming but it was absolutely wonderful. I had chances slip out from underneath me before,and I should have been here years ago, but I am honored to be part of the PWC today. Especially with my best buddy Hunter Jackson set to make his debut soon. Gary Busey did movies called Point Break and Breaking Point within two years of each other. So see, sometimes life just works out.

He then looked at me with a somewhat confused look. But then carried on with the interview.

Danny Eriksen: You joined at an interesting time in the PWC. So many superstars are coming and going. What are your thoughts on that.

Me: Honestly, It's exciting . It feels like I am part of a revolution here. Sure some stars will be missed but it gives us up and comers a chance to fill the void. Austin Angel for example was a star. When I was younger I used to believe that angels were all around me, that's until I figured out what birds are. He made me believe again.

Danny Eriksen: You will be competing this week in Scotland against Robert Hollander and Bruce Thorn Jr. How do you feel about your chances in this match?

Me: Well, a second triple threat match isn't exactly an ideal situation, but I am ready to go. It doesn't matter who my opponents are because the confidence I have in myself. I approach it like any other match. One is a social outcast and the other is a physical specimen. I am Jensen. They should be the ones worried.

Danny Eriksen: You sound confident.

Me: I absolutely am confident. I am a great wrestler and in tremendous shape. "Jensen, terrorists hijacked a train and they’ll only surrender for $1B or unless someone can do 300 crunches in a row" That’s what I think about every time I workout. I won’t lie, some days, a lot of pretend people explode. But I am still prepared to go out and give it my all. That' s just who I am.

I was starting to feel like I was finally understanding what it takes to give a great interview. We continued for a few more minutes. He asked me the standard questions you normally would hear in an interview such as this, such as what are my goals in the PWC and who I look forward to get into the ring with. My confidence was at an all time high, well as high as they possibly could be in this situation.

Eriksen: One last question, do you have any messages you would like to give the PWC universe?

Just as he finished his sentence Brittany Page came into the room. She then proceeded to make eye contact with me, and in doing so it ruined any chance of finishing the interview on a high note.
I then turned grabbed a camera and looked directly at it.

Every year, billions of spiders die when people sleep-eat them.


503 Posts

The three members of The Regime sit behind locked doors in a dingy little building in one of the poorer parts of Glasgow. James Parker straddles a chair, while Derek Jacobs and Freddie Vos are gulping beers, despite it being early in the morning.

James:Gentlemen, if we could focus on the task at hand, please...

Two A-4-sized pictures are pinned to a bulletin board – Grey on one and O’Ryan on the other, one of PWC’s newest talented tag-teams.

James:Desolation was met with mixed success and the landscape of the tag-team scene has changed since then. A couple of new wrestlers, as well as the new alliances that accompany them, have entered the fray.

Derek:You really think these punks can go toe-to-toe with me and Fred, here?

James:It’s not just about “going toe-to-toe”, Derek. If that were the case, you guys would crush the Blackouts. Just stick to the plan and I promise you we’ll do well.

Freddie:Doing well is one thing, James, but skinning their hide as a trophy is another. We’re chomping at the bit, you see.

James:Brute force and tenacity will only get you so far, Freddie. Now, I need to know that you have your head in the game for Vortex...

Freddie smirks at Parker.

Freddie:Of course, James. You can... trust... me.

Freddie chuckles quietly to himself.

Parker is thrown off ever so slightly, but continues the meeting nonetheless.

James:Alright, then, let’s go over the plan one more time.

Freddie:I outmanoeuvre O’Ryan...

Derek:...and I overpower Grey. Sounds simple enough.

Derek and Freddie clink their drinks and give each other a confident nod.

James:Gentlemen, I have the utmost confidence in you.

Derek:We have superior experience as a team and if this gets ugly-

Freddie:-which it will-

Derek:-the smart money has to be on the two toughest sum’bitches in the company!

Three journalists congregate in front of the dilapidated little Glaswegian shack. Chips in the plaster, broken windows and missing patches in the thatched roof give them pause. They look at each other, uncertain of what lies within. The first one, a stocky man with a receding hairline, speaks up and extends an arm.

???:George Baker, Glaswegian Grappling Gazette.

His hand is met by a lanky teenager's.

???:Hello, sir. I'm Daniel Jones from Wrestle-News Weekly. It's an honour to meet you.

George:I've read your stuff, son. You've got a good eye for a story.

They turn to the third journalist, a large man with a dark beard. He offers them each a handshake.

???:I'm Jake Allen. I run an online wrestling forum, Wrestleblogger.

George narrows his eyes at Jake's American accent.

George:Came all the way across the pond, did we?

Jake:I was in Edinburgh, covering an indy show, so it wasn’t that much of a trip. Beautiful country, you’ve got here...

They turn their attention back to the house.

George:Well, well, I wonder what this is all about.

Daniel:Shit, they don't pay us enough for this gig!

George:I'm guessing you two got the same tip as I did? “Big inside scoop on PWC”?

Daniel:You too? Yeah, I get a call in the middle of the night and a voice gives me that, the address and then hangs up. No lead, nothing... I’ve heard great things about the promotion, but haven’t had a chance to see any of the talent in action.

Jake:Me neither, but the upcoming European tour is major news. This is going to be interesting at least...

The three of them jump at the sound of the creaking door. A slender figure of a greying man appears in the doorway and approaches them.

James:Good afternoon, gentlemen. My name is James Parker.

George:I recognise the voice. Were you the one that called us here?

James:Yes. I lent my ear to a few of my connections and your reputations as eager young reporters precede you. I knew you three would not pass up an opportunity to be a part of pro wrestling history.

George:Mr Parker... I think I speak for all of us when I ask you: What the hell is this?

James:All will be revealed in good time, gents. This way, please...

James leads them down what's left of the garden path and escorts them into the building. The one-room hovel contains three steel-chairs and a cracked wooden lectern. A solitary light-bulb provides a yellow glare.

Jake:Let's have a seat, shall we?

Daniel's Adam’s-apple bobs up and down as he gulps anxiously. The three men sit themselves down, while James takes in position behind the lectern. Daniel leans over to Jake and whispers in his ear.

Daniel:This place is giving me the creeps!

James:Gentlemen, if I could have your attention, please? The time has come. I present to you... Uncle Sam!

Uncle Sam enters through the same door the journalists came in locks the latch behind him. He sports a crooked top-hat, a patched blazer and his coat-tails drag behind him on the floor. The whole ensemble is kitted out in a red-white-and-blue motif. From his broad shoulders hangs the star-spangled banner, except that a big, black letter “R” is spray-painted in the centre. He grins in a deranged manner, bearing too many teeth, as Parker makes way from him.

Uncle Sam’s knuckles turn white as he grabs the lectern’s edges.

Uncle Sam:Greetings and salutations, friends! It is me, Uncle Sam! I have a very important message to send to Europe and you are gathered here to spread it. You see, I am here today, representing Premier Wrestling Circuit’s top tag-team, The Regime!

Uncle Sam rocks back and forth, holding onto the wooden platform.

Uncle Sam:Unfortunately, there are some people in PWC who fail to see how great it would be to follow them, but nobody knows better how to orchestrate a coup than The Regime. With every changing of the guard and every rise to power, there you will find Freddie Vos and Derek Jacobs!

Uncle Sam licks his lips and wrings his hands.

Uncle Sam:To bring it closer to home... The Regime is a much more benevolent superpower than the British Empire. For too long, proud Scotsmen have suffered under the yoke of the soft-bodied English! Why not join us instead, a proud group of warriors, much like your own?

Uncle Sam:Now as for you journalists, I want you to put out the word that The Regime is recruiting. That’s right, there’s your scoop. You heard it here first! Wars are won and lost on the battlefield and fresh troops can mean the difference between conquest and carnage. In their infinite mercy, Vos and Jacobs, are extending an offer, but be warned... there is a time limit on it! Once they close their doors, NOBODY will be safe from their rampage!

His top hat tumbles off, revealing the dark, greasy locks of hair. A few strands fall over his face, framing his piercing blue gaze.

Freddie:Ja, that’s right, troops. Conscription has just started.

George tilts his head to one side and puts his hands on his knees as if to get up, but the big paw on the man next to him yanks him down. He gives the big man a look of utter disbelief .

James:Thank you, Derek.

Derek smirks at his partners.

George:Jake? Do you know these two?

James:The man next to you is not a reporter. He is the behemoth known as Derek Jacobs and part of the greatest tag-team in wrestling! Your ignorance has cost you dearly, but soon the whole planet will know their power!

Derek gets to his feet and cracks his knuckles.

Derek:You pencil-necks better cooperate!

He grabs both men by the throat and lifts them to their feet, before throwing them to the ground. Freddie kicks over the lectern and runs up towards the downed pair.

Freddie:Better listen to Derek, here, boys. That’s right, listen up! We are The Regime and we want YOU!

58 Posts
Backstage at SSE Hydro, the day of Vortex

The path that Derek Jacobs has taken this far has been one with many twists and turns.

A professional wrestling prodigy at only 26 years of age, Derek has all the tools necessary to be one of the biggest stars on the face of planet Earth. Size, speed, endurance and one of the highest thresholds of pain have all combined to make him a force like none other.

What sets Derek apart from the rest though, is his killer instinct.

His killer instinct is what made him death in a pair of pads on the football field. His killer instinct is what made him an undefeated bare knuckle brawler in the back alleys of Chicago, and his killer instinct is what has brought him this far in PWC.

His killer instinct is what makes him the God of War.

Austin Angel found out first hand at Desolation what his killer instinct means. At Derek's over sized hands Angel received the worst beating of his career, which also happened to be his last.

That was then, this is now. Derek is focused on the task at hand. His mission is two fold.

Bring a sense of legitimacy to PWC, and tonight the second part of his mission is simple:

Destroy the Blackouts.

A noise distracts Derek from his inner thoughts, and he looks towards the door of his locker room to find it's source. He doesn't have to wait for long as Freddie Vos walks into the room. Freddie, still wearing that ridiculous Uncle Sam costume from the other day, sits down beside DJ and begins to speak to him.

Derek..Boeta...why do you seem so out of it today?

Derek looks at Freddie with a somewhat cold gaze.

When we started the Regime, what was our main goal?

That's easy partner, our goal has always been the same: to destroy PWC and remake it in our own image.

Then why do you feel the need for us to recruit? I thought that with James' brains, my brawn and your....insanity we would be able to accomplish this on our own. Do you feel like we won't be able to? Do you feel like you need to replace me?

Freddie looks at Derek, confused for a second, and then realization sets in. Freddie puts his hand on Derek's shoulder and forces him to look him in the eye.

James told me this might happen one day. You're still worried that I'm going to betray you like the preacher did, aren't you?

Derek, I might be many things, but I give you my word I'll never stab you in the back.

Freddie stands up and turns to walk out of the room. Before he gets all the way out the door, he turns back around and looks Derek in the eye.

I've found it's much more fun to shoot you in the face.

A short time later, the Regime are sitting in an empty corridor. James has out his trusty camera to shoot a pre-tape for Freddie and Derek, and when he gives the signal, Derek begins to speak.

Desolation was a triumphant night for the Regime.

We succeeded in doing something we had set out to do many months ago, and that was to rid this company of the Fallen. Sure, Daiko got lucky and pulled one over on Freddie here, but he's much worse coming out than he was going in.

Austin Angel on the other hand?

I destroyed him and he was lucky to walk out of that building with his life. I beat him from pillar to post, from bell to bell and at the end of the day he decided that it was too much, so he tucked his tail between his legs and retired like the bitch that he is.

Now, it's on to bigger and better things.

Now, it's time for the Regime to take their seats at the right hand of God, it's time for the Regime to rule over PWC with an iron fist! It's time-

Derek is cut off by Freddie, who whispers something into his ear.

Oh, wait. Never mind. It seems like I got a little too ahead of myself there. This week, it's time for the Regime to destroy the Blackouts before they get a chance to even breathe in PWC. You see boys, this week it's just a case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. PWC decided to throw you into the lion's den your first match out, and you're not gonna survive it. You see, we have some demands that haven't been met yet, and because of this we are going to take out our frustrations on your ass.

Welcome to the killing field boys.

You won't survive.

The feed cuts to static.

Bring back Gary Oak!
4,682 Posts
Discussion Starter #20
A click echoes through a room as the light on the ceiling dimly sparks into life, bathing the room in a dull red glow casting its light across Daiko who is stood by the door with a weary look on his face. He drops the bag draped over his shoulder onto the floor and slouches off into his bedroom, wincing as he goes.

Several minutes pass before he re-emerges shirtless from the bedroom with a towel wrapped around his shoulders and a bit more bounce in his step. He walks through to the living room and grabs a t-shirt from a pile on a chair and throws it on just as the house phone rings. He waits a second before picking up the receiver and raising it to his ear.

Daiko: Hello?

Daiko's eyebrows rise a little in shock as he recognises the voice on the other side of the line.

Daiko: Yeah, what's up?

He walks over to the window and looks out, seeming to be looking for someone.

Daiko: Okay, I see you. I'm not quite sure why you're here, but I see you.

He listens for a second before talking back.

Daiko: No, no, it's not that I don't want to see you, no, it's just a bit of a shock.

He goes silent once more before walking away from the window to the front door which he unlocks.

Daiko: Just head up. The door's unlocked. Ok. Bye.

The Scot hangs up the phone and puts in back onto its docking station, throwing glances at the door as he does. Soon enough, the door opens and a figure not much shorter than Daiko walks through and flashes a grin at Daiko who looks on shocked.

???: Are you going to offer me a seat or are we going to stand here looking at each other like the idiots we both know we are?

Daiko laughs at this and gestures to one of the two seats that aren't already occupied by his clothes. Daiko's guest puts the bags that she brought up with her down by the door before making her way over to the seats that Daiko pointed at.

Daiko: Sophie, how the hell did you know where I was staying?

Sophie removes her jacket and sits down as she answers.

Sophie: Mum told me you'd be here. I wasn't too sure which number your apartment was, so I kinda had to wake her up to get your number, which spoiled the surprise.

Daiko shakes his head.

Daiko: No, I'm still pretty damn shocked that you're here.

Sophie cocks her head to the right and looks over at her big brother.

Sophie: You sound annoyed.

Daiko shakes his head again.

Daiko: No, I'm not annoyed at all. It's great to see you, but it has been a long as hell night.

Sophie nods understandingly.

Sophie: Yeah, I was in that crowd for your match with that Foss guy. Being there, I can kinda understand why you like doing this so much. It was so damn loud.

Daiko: It's even louder in that ring. All four sides cheering, chanting, stomping and booing at once, just for two idiots in the middle of the ring. From an outsider's point of view, it's odd, but being there, you just get swept up into it all. It's a rush.

Sophie nods.

Sophie: You kinda got your ass handed to you for quite a lot of that match though.

Daiko shrugs.

Daiko: I still won. Doesn't matter how I did it, it's still a W on the record.

Sophie: Uh huh.

Daiko looks up at his sister who is drifting off and laughs.

Daiko: Sophie, I love that you're here and all, but you really didn't need to fly over here.

Sophie looks up at her brother with a quizzical expression on her face.

Daiko: Yeah, we're coming over to the UK this week. In fact, we're in Glasgow on Wednesday.

Sophie's face drops.

Sophie: You're kidding, right?

Daiko shakes his head.

Sophie: This is why I shouldn't do surprises.

Daiko nods, trying not to laugh.

Sophie: Get that stupid grin off of your face and figure out how you're going to help me get back to the UK.

Daiko: I could smuggle you onboard, hiding you in my suitcase until we're near the plane. You'll then climb up onto the wing and hold on for deal life as we fly back.

Sophie: No.

Daiko: I could see if there's any free seats on the plane and buy you a ticket.

Sophie nods.

Sophie: Yes!

Daiko holds up his hand.

Daiko: I don't think you've given the plane wing idea any real thought.

Sophie reaches over and slaps Daiko, getting a laugh from him. They sit around for a minute laughing, both clearly happy to be back in the other's life again. Daiko looks over at his clock.

Daiko: I really don't want to ruin the moment here, but if you want to get a ticket, we're going to need to get up early.

Sophie sighs and nods her head reluctantly.

Daiko: Judging by the bags, you don't have anywhere to stay tonight, do you?

Sophie: No.

Daiko gets to his feet.

Daiko: You can take my room then. I'll sleep in here.

Sophie opens her mouth to speak, but before she even gets a word out, Daiko's speaking again.

Daiko: Don't argue. Just take the room. I'll be fine sleeping through here.

Sophie nods and gets to her feet.

Sophie: Thanks Aaron.

She hugs Daiko who is caught out a little, but returns the hug in kind. They stand locked in embrace for a second before breaking apart. Sophie flashes one last grin at her brother before making her way through the house and heads into Daiko's bedroom and closes the door behind her. Daiko moves his clothes off of the couch and falls back onto it with a weary grin on his face. He closes his eyes and quickly drifts off to sleep.


Sitting in the hotel room that he was sharing with his sister, Daiko's thoughts went back to the fairly uneventful flight over. Daiko had left Glasgow Airport with his sister who he had managed to get a seat beside, trading his first class ticket to the lucky passenger that was her original seating companion. The two had then made their way into the heart of Glasgow, heading for the hotel that had been arranged for Daiko by the PWC.

His phone vibrated in his pocket and he pulled it out of his pocket to see that he was being called by Danny Eriksen. Daiko drags his finger across the screen and put the phone up by his ear, listening as Eriksen talks.

Daiko: Where and at what time?

Daiko nods.

Daiko: Yeah, that works for me. I'll meet you there at two. Okay. Bye.

Daiko hangs up the phone and puts it back in his pocket just as his sister walks through the door of the hotel room and drops down into her bed. She grabs the remote and turns on the TV, flicking through the channels until she finds a cooking show that she likes.

Daiko: Sophie, I'm going to need to head out. I've got a few things that I need to do for the show. There's money in one of the bags for you, so that you can get yourself some food if you get hungry. I shouldn't be too long though.

Sophie nods absentmindedly and gestures for Daiko to move as he's blocking her view of the TV screen. Daiko grabs his hotel key and makes his way out of the room.


For a change, the sun is shining on Glasgow, bringing a bit of life out of the city. Daiko looks out the window of the taxi's he's in, watching everyone rush by as he makes his way towards the SSE Hydro Arena. He zones out, replying to the driver as if on autopilot until he arrives at the arena, where a loud cheer snaps his back into reality. He pays the driver and hops out of the cab, telling the driver to keep the change as he goes, and he looks out at a sea of fans who are there in the hundreds, all calling for the attention of their returning countryman.

Daiko walks through the crowd, clapping hands and signing merchandise as he goes. He breaks through the crowd and sees Danny Eriksen sat on a chair with a microphone in hand. Daiko walks over and shakes his hand before grabbing a seat and a microphone of his own.

Daiko: And here I thought you didn't know how to run a good interview, Danny. Maybe you are good at this.

Eriksen looks like he doesn't know whether to take Daiko seriously or not, but the grin on the Scotsman's face says it all. Eriksen chuckles and the fans keep cheering.

Danny Eriksen: Well I was due one week where I didn't get attacked, so why no...

Daiko: I'm making no promises.

Eriksen laughs again.

Danny Eriksen: Daiko, I decided to reach out on Twitter today to try and get as many people as possible for a public interview that will be on PWC.com. Is there anything you'd like to say to your fellow countrymen before we get started?

Daiko stands up and looks out at the crowd which is circled around the duo.


The crowd pops big once again, chanting for both Xander and Daiko. Daiko sits down and raises his hand, thanking the crowd, who die down a little, hoping to hear what their man has to say.

Daiko: That enough for you, Danny?

Danny Eriksen: Yeah, I think that should work. Time for the interview then.

Daiko nods.

Danny Eriksen: Daiko, on Sunday, you went one on one with Freddie Vos, getting the win and extending your Pay-Per-View record to 3 and 0. Was this the expected result for you, or were you as surprised as the rest of the world was when you managed to beat someone who was considered to be the better opponent?

Daiko: Honestly, it was a bit of a shock. I'm always going to back my own abilities in the ring, but against a guy like Vos who doesn't mess around in the ring, you really don't get any room for error, so you have to be at your best to even stand a chance. Beating him takes so much more though, but it's no more than I'm capable of. It was about time I showed everyone why I was signed to this company though. Especially after the crap I put out at the beginning of my PWC career.

Danny Eriksen: As you said just before we got started, on Vortex you'll be teaming up with the returning Xander Black in his first match back from injury after he was taken out at the hands of the men who recently took out your former tag team partner. You two are going to be facing off against the former number one Darius Black and the PWC Legacy Champion, Dr. Nero. Any thoughts?

Daiko: Thoughts? I'm teaming with the one of only two men to have been the PWC Champion to face the current Legacy Champion and the man who broke both World Heavyweight Champions. I'm moving from one challenge in Vos, to another two in these two. I'm a little annoyed that I haven't been given more time to rest up after that brutal match, but this is an opportunity that I wouldn't pass up on for the world. I now have a chance to test the waters with the Legacy Champion. I have the opportunity to pin the good doctor, and in doing so, I then should and damn well will GET the opportunity to become the PWC Legacy Champion.

The crowd cheers, getting hyped at the thought of their countryman becoming one of the PWC's Champions.

Danny Eriksen: That's all well and good, but do you think you're going to have help from Xander Black? The man hasn't fought in quite a while, which was surely enough for him to acquire a bit of rust over time. What happens if Xander Black's not up to scratch in the ring and that costs you the match?

Daiko thinks for a second.

Daiko: Then I'll put on a brave face, take a second to readjust my plans and move on from there. I don't see how any of the four of us could give anything less than 100% out there. None of us know how to half ass it, so none of us will.

Danny Eriksen: Daiko, I hate to cut this meeting off as it's one of the more enjoyable ones that I've been given the opportunity to do in my time here in the PWC, but we've both got places to be and I have many many more interviews to do.

Daiko laughs.

Daiko: You should probably get yourself an assistant, Danny. Actually, don't. Seeing you run around at the last minute before shows is some of the best entertainment that the backstage of this weird company has to offer.

Daiko turns around to the crowd.

Daiko: Ladies and gentlemen, I thank you all for coming out to see me, and I hope you all enjoy Vortex in what should hopefully be the first of many tours of the United Kingdom.

Daiko shakes Eriksen's hand and walks off through the crowd, slapping the hands of the crowd as he goes.
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