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Pressure Chief
Jan 1, 2000
CHICAGO, IL should be prominently showcased in your RP.


More Information to come.

Consider the perks of winning RANDOM RUMBLE and being in Main Event storylines for a whole Quarter leading up to FUTURESHOCK II and a main event marquee headline with the World Title in the balance.

This is big.

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Where's my money, Chad?
Jul 3, 1997
The Silk Road
High Fidelity, Ill Fortune

(FADEIN: Day time, Division Street in Chicago's Wicker Park neighborhood. ALEX AUSTIN and LUCKY SEVEN stand behind a brick building. "ILL FORTUNE" has been written on the bricks in white chalk, with an arrow pointing down at the two of them. Austin is wearing a black 'AUSTIN CATCH 101: BREAK A LIMB' hoodie; Seven's black hair has been partially shaved on one side, and she's wearing her purple eye shadow that flairs out to the temple and a cut-off white shirt featuring a framed picture of Tonya Harding on ice at the Olympics. One of her arms is sleeved in a tattoo mural of ancient pagan figures, including a Medusa head on her shoulder)

AUSTIN: "When I got the call from headquarters in New York, telling me that Ill Fortune would be competing in the Random Rumble, they said "Alex, the fans in Chicago don't know you and Seven. Do something to grab the locals' attention. Wear a Blackhawks jersey, or reference Michael Jordan. The Smashing Pumpkins got started in Chicago, maybe play one of their songs in your promo? Compare your entrance in the Rumble to the 'Great Chicago Fire' or something historical." (smiles, shakes head) They just don't get it. Nobody's seen anything like us before. Our style, our delivery...it's all new."

"We're not here to be like everybody else. Alex Austin is the best submission fighter on the planet, and Seven is the most death defying, acrobatic striker to ever step inside a ring. So save the cheap local pops for the guys that need it, because we stand out by virtue of our very presence! If that doesn't earn your applause, then you don't deserve to have hands."

"Take a look at the current tag team ranks in NFW. It's an EMBARRASSMENT! You've got white trash, Satanic cult members, rednecks, people dressed like dragons, and a couple of soda-can wearing IDIOTS who claim they're from the future. They let Frankie Fargo waltz around - a man with an 8th grade education who isn't qualified to sell the t-shirts he's on, encouraging young fans to get drunk at keg parties and date rape each other. Nice role mode you have there."

"Then you have Bandit, one half of the tag team champions, another intoxicated redneck who should be driving Coors trucks for a living. Instead, he hangs out in spooky places with gold on his shoulder, making a MOCKERY of what it means to be a CHAMPION!"

"Don't even get me started on Chad Destiny and Todd Fortune, two guys who given morons everywhere a bad name. I'm in there, plying my craft, demonstrating catch wrestling at an extremely high level, while those two run around with glittering Sea Urchins hanging off their necks claiming they can time travel. Take it from me, YOU TWO BONEHEADS - I've read Gray's Sports Almanac, even in the future you're the two biggest losers to EVER call themselves wrestlers. And that's an AMAZING achievement, considering Lane Cash and Peter Windham."

SEVEN: "...and what the FUCK is a Chromatic Dragon?"

AUSTIN: "You know what? Who cares. If Random Rumble is our chance to embarrass all these guys in one fell swoop, then I'm GLAD they're signed up. But I'll tell you, one person I can't WAIT to embarrass is the Triple Crown Champion himself...I'm talking about YOU, Ocho."

"See, you're one of the few guys I have a modicum of respect for in the ring. I've trained with you, I've faced you, and although my skills are far beyond yours, you were able to beat me the night where it counted. Congratulations. But where are you now? Teddy Alexander applied a little pressure to you, and you've disappeared without a trace. Less promo time, less appearances. You were supposed to be the breath of fresh air from the last champion, that lazy, overrated piece of garbage ROOK BLACK. But now you're just living up to his legacy of LETHARGY. Hey, you don't wanna be here? That's cool. So me and Seven will THROW YOU the fuck out. And you can take that gimmick you call a belt and order a pizza with it when you're sitting at home collecting unemployment checks."

(Seven steps forward)

SEVEN: "Random Rumble? I like random. I like chance. Never lost a game of rock, paper, scissors in my life. Casinos worldwide have my photo in the security room, because the house can't beat me. The odds are ALWAYS in my favor, because I live at the other end of that rainbow."

"Having me in this match is like dropping Secretariat into the Kentucky Derby. But having me AND Alex? You fucked up, NFW. We're pulling the SAME CHARIOT. In Chicago, we're working as a team, and when we're left standing, the two of us will exit at once and name our price later."

"Maybe we'll decide to headline Futureshock at win the tag titles there? Or MAYBE we'll demand separate title shots at belts of our choosing?"

"That's the thing about letting two bonafide winners play at high stakes. You have given us the opportunity to walk home with everybody's chips in one bag. That means WE call the shots. And if there's one thing I'm sick of, it's being told what to do!"

"Go here, go there. Sign autographs, blah blah blah. Fuck all that. Book me, PAY ME, leave me the fuck alone. I'LL decide where and how to spend my time. When you're dealing with people like us, whose athleticism and star-potential is beyond anything you currently have, then you move out of the way and watch history get made."

"We did it our way to get here, and it's gonna STAY our way until we leave. Don't know our names? You're about to. ILL FORTUNE is what you get when you pull the lever and stop at us. DEAD, DEAD, DEAD! Winner winner chicken dinner."

AUSTIN: "When our numbers get called...the GAME ENDS."



Jan 1, 2000
The Pilgrimage

(The camera opens on a city street, midday. A caption briefly fades in to identify the location -- SEATTLE, WA -- as the camera scans a row of brownstone buildings renovated into various storefronts and apartment buildings. It comes to a stop on a sign hanging over one entrance. Over the image of a triple yin-yang in the city's aquatic color scheme, it boldly reads the name of the business...)

Wrestling and MMA Athletic Club
Est. 2011​

(The shot fades to the interior, giving NFW its first glimpse of the wrestling school. Despite being an older building, it's been kept in relatively impressive condition, though not a full restoration as shown by the modern lighting and electrical functions. A RING dominates the center of the room, where a bald-headed lead trainer in a Dojo brand t-shirt stands at the apron, vigilantly watching a sparring battle between two younger students wrangling each other to the canvas.)

(The camera pans over a few rows of weightlifting and strength-building equipment before finding KERRY KUROYAMA, once again secluded to his own space in the corner of the room. We find him seated, towel draped over a lowered head, taking a quick breather in the middle of his own training exercises. A nearby iPod deck is playing "Brother Bishop" by Church of Misery, but as soon as he notices the camera on him, he reaches over and brings it to a quieter background level, to allow his own voice to be heard.)

“Welcome to the Dojo… the place where it all started for yours truly.”

(He towels off a few beads of sweat before tossing the rag aside.)

“Admittedly I’m a bit out of my way, so very far from Chicago where the RANDOM RUMBLE is looming… but even so, I felt a brief homecoming was merited. For one, there happens a certain football team from around these parts who have been doing well as of late… ELL-OH-BEE, thank you very much… and I wanted to be close, for the opportunity to watch future champions in the making.”

“But mainly, I came home because I wanted to return to my roots. I wanted to remember where it was that I came from… to put into perspective where I am now, and where I’ll soon be going. Consider a pilgrimage… a journey of meditation and contemplation, to put my mind on what’s important.”

(He comes to feet and glances around at his surroundings, take a few trips down the past.)

“Being back in this place… brings back a lot of memories. My name may have meant legacy, but you’d be fooling yourself if you believed there weren't trials and tribulations in my first few months. And yet, the indies here in Seattle weren't anything like what awaited me in Philadelphia. Moving from the west coast to the east was a hell of an adjustment, being thrown straight into the Lion’s Den of UWA with guys like Mossberg and Royce Ramsay. Even then, I remembered what I learned here… I held my ground, undeterred… and persevered, to earn a glimpse at a New Frontier.”

“And it was there in my first NFW appearance back at RELOADED 18, in a rumble of a different kind, where I found myself pitted against a handful of the meanest brutes the UWA had to offer… and through all the fury and the adversity, ‘the Pacific Blitzkrieg’ braved the storm and earned his step up to the big leagues. Now I’m taking one more step up… from the big leagues, to the big stage. Everything I've worked for, since the day I first walked through these doors… everything I've learned, and given up, and patiently waited for… it’s all been building up to the moment I hit that ring in Chicago and let loose a raging TEMPEST upon the entire NFW locker room.”

(He sets his sights on the camera once again, fierce and determined.)

“I’m going to tangle with some of the GREATEST and MOST ACCOMPLISHED athletes in all of professional wrestling, with an opportunity like no other at stake. And being back here for the first time in years reminds me what drove me to endure all of this, and what continues to drive me still to this day: the desire to be GREATER than the GREATEST… to be the man that sets the new watermark.”

“So I guess the question is… can some so young and unassuming as myself go in there and make all that desire into a reality?”

(He shrugs.)

“Given the small sampling of matches I've had since my debut, I’d say a stark few would probably expect it. I’m not even sure I would expect it. But… a man can always hope. And with enough focus, practice, and determination, hope can make anybody surpass his expectations.”

“If anything, I can see how I stack up against the upper echelon of NFW’s prime talent. I want the legends to feel my shots and remember the name of the man that struck them. I want the champions to be put on notice. And perhaps most of all, I have to clean up a lingering problem with a few nagging DIRTY DEEDS that will surely be in the mix.”

“LANE CASH… you had the opportunity to walk into that ring back in DC and show that ‘IT’ factor that you claimed I didn't have. All you had to do was fight me on my level, and either put these shoulders down for the three or force a submission. But even before the bell rang, while those empty-headed Barbie dolls slipped you the knucks, it was clear that even you didn't believe in all that empty talk. You may pride yourself on your style… but me? I’m all about showing substance. And I prove that substance by going in there and backing up my own talk.”

“You might have strength in numbers now with the Commish and ROLLS backing you up… and maybe you feel that as long as you can always cheat your way out of every opportunity and deny me the chance to beat you legitimately, you can always get away with talking your trash. But none of that will help you when chaos erupts in the RANDOM RUMBLE. Maybe you’ll never muster up the nerve to fight me on my level, but this one time, I have the opportunity to come down to yours. There in Chicago, I finally have my chance to BEAT you...”

(His brow furrows as his hands eagerly grind over themselves, knuckles popping.)

“And you, and the Commissioner, and Royce, are going to find out what happens when you get on my BAD side. The numbers aren't going to matter once everybody’s in that ring and all hell breaks loose. And through that hell, I’ll track down and take out every member of DIRTY DEEDS one at a time… ensuring none of you make it through to the end.”

“Not because I intend to make this personal between us… but simply because I have a different set of ambitions. A win doesn't mean anything to me if it isn't legit. You can go on fighting how you want to fight, Lane… but I’m not going to allow you stand in my way as I go out there and try to prove the potential in me that you’re too self-absorbed to see for yourself. Which means under no circumstances am I going to allow you or any of your cronies to win this, and move on ahead of me. You and your crew threw down the glove at Reloaded XX… and now I’m going to pick it up and throw it back in your faces.”

“And in case that weren't enough, there are so many more in that ring I’m bound to cross paths with… standing in my way to greatness. Not obstacles in my way, though… the way I see it, every torso and set of arms I come to blows with in that ring is going to serve as a stepping stone in my climb to prosperity, and every one of them that goes down will pave the way to a new standard of professional wrestling excellence! Because if there’s anything more important than winning the match, it’s winning the battles that take you all the way up to the end!”

“And I’m ready, willing, and able to walk that road…”

(He smiles… confident, and almost daring.)

“Let see how many of you can keep up.”

(Off screen, the head trainer calls him by name. He waves, and grabs the towel as he walks by the camera. The shot slowly fades out.)


League Member
Jun 5, 2007
Welcome To The Battleground

Standing outside Wrigley Field – Graverobbers wearing the Death Shall Come shirt while Legion wears a Anaal Nathrakh shirt with the infamous Orwell quote from 1984 regarding a foot stamping on a human face forever on the back – there is a sense of anger brimming underneath the surface as all 3 prepare for the biggest night of their lives.

Legion: We have been talking for a long time about Chicago being a battleground – this city has an infamous reputation for being also named Chiraq due to the mass amount of shootings, this reaches the point where even the Black Market have to secure permits in order to film this promo here.

The point being that Chicago has become in a sense a war zone between rival gangs – a rumble in Chi-Town if you will so what better a time for our esteemed President (this is said with a slight sneer) to put 30 men in the ring with a chance to headline FUTURESHOCK.

At Random Rumble however the Army Of Darkness will prove our dominance against those who JUST manage to get the Warp Pipe – Xavier, Leyenda and the Chromatic Dragons, we shall have our revenge that night ESPECIALLY you Langston – no one thinks they can pin ME easily without consequences.

There’s also one other name I see on the list – DC. Now DC, you and I had our little match at the last Brawl and despite your little assistant wrangling a deal to ban Bandit and Devastator from ringside it took her getting involved with her loaded purse to put me down.

Veronica darling- ask Shaniqua what happens when others decide to interfere in our business – it doesn’t end well but then again I heard you like a bit of kink and pain…

Back to you DC – you claim you’re an assassin since that little circle jerk of Crowley club of yours finally broke apart – after we defeated Blaine Hollywood twice no less – and sure I’ve seen what you can do when the red mist starts to descend on you but just like *that* (clicks fingers) you suddenly hide behind the suit, the girl and the lifestyle. The man I remembered that would risk DEATH in order to keep what was his or get the prize reduced to a shell..

There’s a reason why I’m calling you DC and not the name you gave yourself – because I know the real you resides in there and like I’ve done with many a ‘project’ before I will unleash what is hidden and revel in the madness that follows..

Random Rumble will be the battle that will have one outcome – CHAOS shall rise and THEN the true hell begins…

THE Mac Bry

League Member
Feb 23, 2014
Sinister City, Nevada by way of Nowhere, Oklahoma
Enough is Enough...


Sometimes, I lie awake at night. Simply staring up at the ceiling. Lost in thought. Wishing I were normal. Wishing I could make sense of my mind. Of my life. Wondering... Wondering what I've truly accomplished.

13 years.

13 years, I've spent in this business. 13 years-- and what do I have to show for it? Joining one company. Proving myself to be talented. But wasting my potential. And being forced to exit. Showing such promise, yet always... ALWAYS allowing it to wash down the drain. Thanks to my attitude, thanks to my refusal to focus, or strive to be who I know I am. Deep inside of me, there's this fire. This passion. Inside, iAm... so, much, more.

But as a man named Bruce Wayne once said, "It's not who I am underneath... but what I DO that defines me."

13 years.

Enough is enough.
And it's time for a change.


THE Mac Bry

League Member
Feb 23, 2014
Sinister City, Nevada by way of Nowhere, Oklahoma
The Climb.

"I can almost see it,
That dream I'm dreamin', but
There's a voice inside my head sayin',
'You'll never reach it.'
Every step I'm taking,
Every move I make, feels
Lost with no direction...
My faith is shaken.

"But I...
I gotta keep tryin'.
Gotta keep my head held high."

~ ~ ~

I woke up that night in a cold sweat. Trembling. Just as I had the night before. Just as I had for weeks. The same nightmare, over, and over again. Reoccuring memories from the past, all entangled together in a mass of regret. All the struggles I've faced, from beginning, to this very moment. A mother that abandoned me. A father that forced her to do so. A childhood sweetheart that broke my heart and crushed my soul. A childhood hero who spat in my face. And then pulled me out of the closet... kicking and screaming.

Company, after company where I learned the ropes, only to have them snap and send me plummeting to the cold concrete below... so I could begin again. And again. And again.

I lay there, staring at the ceiling above, just as I did every night. But this time? My thoughts weren't the same. Yes, at first, I felt the same fear... that fear that had etched its way into my psyche and made its home like a parasite. But then? My mind began to wander. Pondering over what it all truly meant. Was I trapped to eternally reside in this fear, struggling to prove who I could be, but always failing...

... or was I going to finally DO something about it?


"The struggles I'm facing,
The chances I'm taking,
Sometimes might knock me down, but...
No, I'm not breaking.
I may not know it,
But these are the moments that
I'm gonna remember most.
Just gotta keep going.

"And I?
I gotta be strong...
Just keep pushing on."


I stood from my bed, grabbed the keys to my 'cycle, and headed for the door of my motel. Turning the knob and pushing the door open, I stood out in the chilly February night air. Gazing toward the sky. I extended both hands to my sides, taking in that feeling I adored with every fiber of my being-- that cold, crisp wind. It brushed against me, and I savored it. Nature. It is my Goddess. The thing that I rely on to restore what little calm I have left within.

The sky was awash in black, dark blue and purple, dotted with radiant stars and a moon that shone its light upon me. In this moment, all the trepidation, insecurities, fear... all of it vanished like smoke. All I could feel was this peace. From my head to my feet, from the outside straight to my core, I could feel nothing but an overwhelming positivity. My eyes were closed. And it began to rain.

I felt the tiny droplets graze my skin, and soak the white t-shirt that covered my upper body and the shredded jeans that adorned my bottom half. I lowered the hand holding my motorcycle keys, and with my free hand, I grabbed hold of my pendant. I wear this necklace... a memento. The pendant, a crystal dragon, representing the man that inspired my childhood dream to become a reality. The reality I've lived for 13 years.

I opened my eyes.

I sat down upon the seat of the 'cycle.

I revved up the engine.

And I took off into the night.


"There's always gonna be another mountain.
I'm always gonna wanna make it move.
Always gonna be an uphill battle.
Sometimes I'm gonna have to lose.
Ain't about how fast I get there...
Ain't about what's waitin' on the other side...

"It's The Climb."
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THE Mac Bry

League Member
Feb 23, 2014
Sinister City, Nevada by way of Nowhere, Oklahoma

"Everything's so blurry
And everyone's so fake.
And everybody's empty,
And everything is so messed up.
Pre-occupied. Without you,
I cannot live at all.

"My whole world surrounds you.
I stumble, then I crawl."


It had been a little over two weeks since I'd left home to visit my cousin in Miami. Reeve Gordon, the man that inspired me to return to the game. He is the only semblance of family I have left. Well...

By blood, that is.

Miami, Oklahoma. Not exactly the sunny beach locale scattered with palm trees you may think of when you hear the name... but it was my home away from home. And to be honest, at this point in my life-- it was the only place I wanted to be. Till the move. Till I left everything I had ever known behind... to be with her. To be happy. For the first time. To live.

But before I headed out on my 'cycle, to finally break free from the past and make a future, I had to see him. For what could, perhaps, be the final time. I still felt the fear, I still felt like I was drowning in a pool of regret. And I felt like there was no bottom. As if it would just get deeper, and deeper, till it sucked me in, and suffocated me. Till there was no longer a breath left for me to breathe.

Inside me, I knew what I needed. WHO I needed. But would I even make it there? And would I truly be the person she needed... Everything I'd ever tried. Every attempt I'd ever made to make things better, to succeed, to live up to my potential... failure. After failure. Much of the time, I felt like a walking, talking disappointment.

When I began, when I first stepped onto the scene... I was this fiery, passionate, enigmatic, flamboyant son-of-a-bitch. I was here. Queer. And if anyone had a problem with it... they could meet me in the ring. And I'd be ready.

But over the years, all that confidence, all that self-esteem and pride and PASSION-- it was sapped away. Yes, much of it was due to my own refusal to alter things about myself. Not who I was, but what I did. My reaction to their hatred, my constant outbursts and lack of common sense. My eagerness to give in to my emotions... whether it be my fury or my depression.

But that hate... it took its toll. "Worthless shemale". "Ugly fucking faggot". If you can think of it, I've heard it. They say sticks and stones may break our bones, but words can never hurt us, but TELL THAT... to anyone that's lived my life. A life filled with words some people wouldn't call their most sworn enemy. Tell that to anyone who went through 12 years of school where the words didn't become easier to deal with. It didn't "get better". No. It got worse. They escelated, up to the point where those words were accompanied by threats. And those threats were accompanied by fists. Anything they could do to tear me down and break me.

Tell that to anyone, whose own father called him every word in the book. A father that abused his wife, till she could no longer take it. She sees him with their son's own babysitter... and it's over. She's gone. He's your only guardian. And the word 'guardian'... well, let's just say that term doesn't hold much weight when it's applied to a man like Frank Bryant.

Now. 13 years later. I was a shell. A hollow shell of my former self. Because I'd allowed all of those words to stockpile in the corners of my mind. I allowed them to control me, to give way to the negativity that made its home within. Every time I would do something, anything, within my head, there was this little voice telling me what I was doing wrong. When I looked into the mirror, all I could think of was what was wrong with the image staring back at me. Every time I tried to 'make it happen'... that voice told me why I never could.

A million people could tell me how brilliant I was. How creative I was. How handsome I was as a guy or how beautiful I was as a gal. That all I had to do... was be me. Straight edge. Bisexual. Androgynous.

But no matter what they told me... deep inside, that voice would give me a million reasons why each and every last one of them was wrong.

Her voice was the first one to begin chipping away at that layer of self-hatred. To strike away at it till it was gone, and my inner light was all that was left.

But his... his was the one that woke me up, and told me to leave the past behind... and make a future with her.

"Shane, I know how you feel. I do, believe me. I always went under paint. And you wanna know why? Cuz I was ashamed of who I was underneath. I was afraid to show my face, because I felt, once they saw who I truly was... they would turn against me. The fans, the roster, the people in charge. Why? Because I was the one person who saw the face uncovered. I was the guy looking back in the reflection, and I DESPISED what I saw.

"Till my gal... Alexis. She told me all I had to hear. And that's what I'm tellin' you right now.

"It doesn't matter what they see. It doesn't matter if they loathe you or love you.

"As long as you love yourself. Not who you WERE... but who you are, in this moment of now. As long as you're doin' the things that make you happy, long as you're livin' a life that makes YOU proud and no one else. That's all that matters. Because, no matter who you were in the past. No matter who betrayed you, who left you, or even who YOU let down or disappointed. Now. That's the only moment that counts. Because what you do now, who you ARE now, that's what dictates what you will do and who you will be. You can spend 31 years livin' for everyone else. Livin' in regret, livin' in turmoil and depression and anger and lettin' everything slip through your fingers...

"But it takes one. Moment. To change all of that. To set yourself right. And start livin' for the man in the mirror.

"I know how you feel, dude. I do, because I've lived it. But I met Lex. And she told me... don't live for her. Because she might not always be there. But, instead? Live to know that someone like her, someone that LOVES me... for me.... wants me to LIVE, for me.

"Now, MB... you've got two choices. Ya got two roads ya can follow. You can keep wallowin' in your own pity. Ya can let all the words, of others outside, and yourself inside, keep you down and hold you there.

"Or you can take the road less traveled. Ya can hop on your chopper, put the key in the ignition, turn that sum'bitch till you hear that baby roar... and you can ride. The choice is yours."

I looked at my cuz. And I smiled. The same positive energy I'd felt from the rain that poured down upon me the other night... I felt it. I shook Reeve's hand, and patted him on the back, thanking him. For everything. I waved, for what might have been the last time... and I headed out.

Whatever comes, from this point forward? The good, the bad, and the in between...

I'm going to make it happen.

"The Showman", Reeve Gordon wouldn't have it any other way.


"I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood-- and I?
I took the one less traveled by.
And that has made all the difference."

- Robert Frost




"Everyone is changing,
There's no one left that's real.
To make up your own ending,
And let me know just how you feel.
'Cause I am lost without you,
I cannot live at all.

"My whole world surrounds you.
I stumble, then I crawl."


The Mac Manor. My home. The mansion I earned through 13 years of blood, sweat and tears. Hard work and sacrifice. It was one of the very few things I did have to show for all the wasted potential... And soon, I'd be selling it. To afford a ticket, out of Nowhere... and onto Somewhere.

Nowhere, Oklahoma. The tiny town I'd called mine since the day I was born 31 years ago. All the torment, all the pain, all the suffering. It was a town I was desperate to leave. Desperate to forget. And soon, I would be. To travel the road, to find my new home. To find her.

My Sissy. The kid sister I'd always wanted but never had. Till now.

I sat in the middle of my plush, Queen-sized bed, legs crossed, notebook computer resting in my lap. And I gazed at the screen. Smiling... as she smiled back.

"You're ready?", she asked, with that adorably beautiful voice of hers.

"Yes. Yes, iAm. FINALLY. I've been WAITING for this moment for months... ever since May of last year."

She giggled. That infectiously cute giggle. "You're not the only one, Bubby." Her expression then became a bit more serious, as did her tone. "Are you prepared? Do you have EVERYTHING ready. I've been telling you for months, you can't come here unless you're truly prepared. You don't take care of yourself, babe. You haven't for years."

My smile began to dissipate... as I knew she was right. Ever since I felt like my career was headed nowhere, I'd began to let myself go. And that was over five years ago, at least. I didn't eat, drink, sleep, or do anything as I should. And I knew I couldn't keep living this way. Not if I wanted to live there, with her.

"I know, hun." I softly whispered, my head bowed slightly. "I do... I know I have to be responsible. I know I have to change."

"Not who you are, BUT...?"

"...what I do." This brought a slight smile to my face. Knowing, that while she hated many of the things I did [as well as didn't do]... she loved who I was. For me. All of me. And not an ounce less. I raised my eyes, and gazed into hers. I spoke. "Hannah... I love you, you know."

"I know." She sighed, shaking her head gently. "But we're not there yet."

A slight grin made its way to the corner of my mouth, and I tilted my head to the side. I bit my lip... looked down... before looking back up. Into her gorgeous, grey eyes. "...when I get there. Things are gonna be different. Better. And as soon as I step foot before you... I want that hug you promised. Deal?"

She smiled, playfully... with just a hint of her devilish, slightly-evil charm. She nodded her head. "Deal."

I reached toward the counter, and showed her what Reeve had given me... a black baseball bat. The very same we'd spent our youth playing with. Before my mother had left. Before I realized what kind of bastard my father would become after he allowed alcohol to consume him.

"He told me to take this with me. To remember the good times. Annnd... just in case I need some 'back-up'." I smirked.

She rolled her eyes and giggled. "You and your toys."

"I could say the same about you." I smiled. BEAMED. From ear to ear.

"...hush, child. Pack your things. And come to me. Call. First time you have the chance."

"You got it, babe. ^__^ I love you."

"I know." She shook her head. Smiled. And turned off Skype.

I sighed... things had changed since we first began speaking. Hell, they changed from the time we first met, March 2013, to May 19th of last year... and they've changed many times since then.

But through each change, my feelings for her only grew. And I knew, that as long as she cared about me, it didn't matter if I was her friend, Bubby... or something more...

As I gazed into her eyes that night, I felt that same positive energy I'd felt from the rain, the same feeling I'd felt from Reeve's words... only ten fold.

As long as she was there... This place? Nowhere, OK... it was no longer my home.

I knew where my home was.
And I was on my way.

Ready to ride.


"You could be my someone,
You could be my scene.
You know that I will save you,
from all of the unclean.
I wonder what you're doing,
I wonder where you are.
There's oceans in between us--

"But that's not very far."

THE Mac Bry

League Member
Feb 23, 2014
Sinister City, Nevada by way of Nowhere, Oklahoma
Closing Time.

"Time for you to go out to the places you will be from.

I know who I want to take me home..."


I let off the throttle and dropped the kickstand, putting the bike in park. I stood at the edge. The edge of the state I'd spent a lifetime in. Not just the state of Oklahoma, but the state of being I'd been in for thirty years... A state of mind.

One I was sick to death of. And prepared to change.

I had my things sent ahead of me. Or at least, those that mattered. I carried a backpack with the essentials I'd need for the journey. And I wore one of my favorite shirts... a dark purple tee, with a sparkling, glitter-encrusted SuperMan symbol. Along with a tight pair of skinny jeans, a pair of jet black boots with zippers up the sides, and a dark leather vest. I had wanted to straighten my naturally curly hair, but she told me to leave it. Because one of the first things she wanted to do when we met in person, was run her fingers through the curls. And I wore the same necklace I almost always did-- the crystal dragon pendant. A reminder of the Deite's Dragon, Javex Valerius. And where it all began.

I bowed my head slightly, staring down at the gravel below. I let out a sigh of relief. I was finally doing it. Finally heading out, and creating a difference in my life. All the hell I'd been through up to this point... it didn't matter. In a way, it did, because I had learned from it and it had brought me to this point. But in this moment of now, I could let go. And I could move forward.

I looked up, toward the sky. The magnificent sky... grey. As grey as her eyes. It was slowly becoming my favorite color...

No black and white
But shades of grey.

Then, I lowered my gaze, and I looked straight ahead. I reached into my pocket, and procured my cell phone. Tapping a few buttons, I arrived at my email account, and I put together a quick message. One to assure her that I was on my way.

"Leaving OK.
Heading home.
Love u, princess.

~ Bubby"

I sent the short email before slipping the phone back into my pocket. And then, I turned my eyes back to the road ahead of me. I didn't know what was truly before me. All I knew...

Is that I'd be ready.


"Every new beginning--
Comes from some other beginning's end."


The REAL Funk U. T-shirt
Aug 26, 2008
The Philadelphian Nightmare

[FADE IN: on a darkened room, illuminated by a singular swinging light bulb overhead. Beneath, a figure stands hooded, head down. He’s monstrous. Power oozes through the clean skin of his arms as they erupt through the hooded shirts sleeveholes, where the sleeves have been crudely removed by hand. The hands flex into fists time and time again as he slowly brings his face to full view.]


[The Philadelphian Nightmare.]

[The Spinal Smash Monger.]

[The Broad Street Behemoth.]

[He bounces his head from side-to-side, bursting the air from the joints and snarls at the barrel.]

[TEDDY turns around, showing the back of his sweatshirt off. On the back, crudely painted in bright red, is a simple target. A circle within a circle. It’s clear what it is. Even his shoddy craftsmenship cannot take away the simple symbol it presents. He turns back to the back to the camera and a growl rumbles in his throat.]


“It figures. Thirty men. One winner.

“I stand amongst these men as a threat to EACH and EVERY single one of ‘em. Da biggest monster. Da cat amongst da pigeons.

“And how da pigeons will turn.

“It’s a clear narrative of my tenure in dis company. Let’s watch ‘em hold me down. They’ll come. Come one and come all. They’ll team in fours, fives… whatEVER it takes for ‘em to bring a good man down. They can’t do it on their own. They can’t do it. Not one of ‘em. Not a single solitary one of ‘em can take me down on their own.

“I’m legit – fuckin’ – beast – mode.

“A monster amongst men.

“And dat’s all they are. Just more meat to grind. More bodies to fall. More blood to shed. More screams to lull me to sleep.”



“But there’s one man who stands amongst you all, who shall hide behind you as da silent protagonist he claims he tried to be. Da Triple Crown Championship draped sarcastically over his shoulder. A shroud of video games creatin’ a haze around him. A hero to da fat thirty-somethin’s with erectile dysfunctions and Cheetoh-stained fingers.

“Da voice of da masses.

“Today’s iconoclasm of endearment.

“Leyenda de Ocho.”



“See, Ocho… there’s a common recurrin’ theme dat’s happenin’ in these Goddamn hallways. A common recurrin’ theme where da witty, fresh crowd favourite overcomes da Warbasher by means other than what a man himself can provide.

“What does it mean?

“It means people like YOU! People like NOVA! Like HIGH FLYER, da all exalted World fucken Champion. It means people like you don’t got da stones to defeat me cleanly. It means you couldn’t get over me with a ladder and rocket up your ass! It MEANS, Leyenda, to put it simply so your pixelated brain can comprehend, is dat you couldn’t beat me cleanly if I had both hands tied behind my back and a litre of Special K runnin’ through my veins.”

[He’s huffing and puffing like the notorious wolf. Eyes wild. Veins throbbing.]


“Dis RUMBLE suits you to a tee, Leyenda. It suits you to da bone.

“You can go hidin’ behind da mass of idiots dat stand in my way. You can dart here and there between da let of ‘em to keep me at arm’s length. Keep flippin’ around like a fuckin’ dolphin but you need to remember…

“You gotta come to ground at some stage. You gotta come to ground.

“Run, run, as fast you can, Leyenda. Dis isn’t no nursery rhyme. No fairy tale. There will BE… no happy endin’.

“Eventually, my hands will wrap around your throat and I’ll crush da life out of YOU and everythin’ you stand for in dis company. Everythin’ you are is everythin’ they took away from me. Everythin’ I fought for is everythin’ you’ve been given.

“I’m about to forcefeed you your fuckin’ silver platter, Leyenda. I’m about to ram it down your damn throat. You’ll choke on your successes. You’ll gasp on your gifts. You’ll suffocate beneath my demons.”

[His head is shaking, as if telling Leyenda “NO”. His snarl is vicious and he’s spitting as he speaks.]







[His shoulder rise and fall with the rage that burns through his body. He is visibly enraged as the thoughts whip through his mind.]


“Coz I’m gettin’ sick… and tired… of these flamin’ hoops dis company is puttin’ me through.

“I’m gettin’ REAL tired of their shit.

“And I’m tired of all your shit.

“I know there’s twenty-eight other men dat’ll be standin’ in dat ring with us.

“I know there’s twenty-eight other wrestlers whose pedigree’s speak for demselves.

“I know there’s twenty-eight other guys dat’ll by vyin’ for their day in da sun but I’m da ECLIPSE! I will black out their sun. I will ruin their world.

“Coz I’m comin’ for you, Leyenda de Ocho. I’m comin’ for you. Gunnin’ for you. Hungry for you. READY… for you.”

[He rolls his head around in it’s socket slowly. Eye shut, as if enjoying a moment which has passed through his mind. The grin which spreads across his face is vicious and chilling all at once. When he stops, he steps up close to the camera, the shadows from the single light bulb cast hauntingly over his face as he whispers…]


“Let da bodies… hit… da flooooorrrrrrrrr….”


THE Mac Bry

League Member
Feb 23, 2014
Sinister City, Nevada by way of Nowhere, Oklahoma
NightCall [Memory Lane]

"I'm giving you a night call to tell you how I feel.
I want to drive you through the night, down the hills.
I'm gonna tell you something you don't want to hear.
I'm gonna show you where it's dark, but have no fear..."


The buildings whipped past as I pressed my foot against the pedal, speeding swiftly down the highway. On my way home...

I gripped the handlebars, and leaned forward, feeling the adrenaline rush through my system. I could feel it, in that moment, the future. Oncoming. As I quickly approached... Ready. Willing. And able. To take it head on.

I smiled. I reminisced. Mulling over every step I'd ever taken that had led me upto this point. As I drifted around corners, and breezed past onlookers, all of these memories flashed through my mind. Like a movie, the recollection of every highlight in my life forged together, creating a montage, projecting itself against the back of my skull...

As a child, I lived for the night of All Hallow's Eve. To stalk the streets in whatever garb my imagination could create. Freedom to be unusual. For me? Every day was Halloween. But on that night... there were no stares. For we were all as one, free to roam in the shadows and give into our fantasies.

I was eight. I had chosen my favorite classic movie monster-- the vampire. I collected as many tooth-rotting treats as I could possibly gather, and I headed home. A smile spread across my face, from ear to ear. But as I approached home, I got this feeling in my bones. This awful, uneasy feeling. I could tell something was wrong, but I tried to brush it aside. To ignore it and focus on the happiness I'd found on that night.

But it was in vain.

My tiny hand grabbed 'hold of the doorknob, turned, and my eyes peered in through the crack... and I realized what was going on. A fight. A heated argument between my mother and father. It was something I'd heard countless times from my upstairs room, but had never witnessed in sight. My mom, Beth Bryant, screamed at my father, Frank. She had been betrayed. After years of torment and abuse, she had finally taken the last straw. Frank had commited adultery. With my 18 year old babysitter, Jessica.

Beth tossed a vase in his direction, but he swatted it away, before lunging towards her. But that's when he noticed the open door... his only son staring inside. He stopped dead in his tracks, and the old man couldn't believe his eyes. The alcohol had consumed him. In these moments, he didn't allow logic to interfere with pure, raw emotion. But upon seeing me, he became frozen.

His mind had been startled from its daze, and he suddenly couldn't believe what was going on. He glanced toward Beth, who slapped the taste from his mouth. She grabbed her things, as he shouted for her to think things through. Which she had to find quite ironic, after the numerous times he spent acting first and thinking never.

My mother walked toward me, kneeling down before me. She whispered, that one day, she would come for me. That we would meet again, and things would be better. She made a promise, that she would find me, but that first she had to leave. She had business in need of her attendance. She whispered softly, "Never give up hope. Always believe." She then told me to put out my hand, and as I did, she reached into her pocket. In my palm, she placed a small, black rose sprinkled with shimmering, purple glitter. It was an heirloom from her side of the family. A token of faith. To believe that even in our darkest days, there is always a sliver of light.

She kissed me upon my forehead,
And took off into the night.


I had journeyed just a few miles past the Oklahoma/Kansas line. Time after time I struggled to pick up a signal on my cell phone, desperately trying to get ahold of my gal. But each time, I was left with nothing. She had told me to call as soon as possible, but try as I might, I couldn't get through.

I sat on the side of the highway, legs crossed, again reminiscing. I thought back on my high school sweetheart, Krystal Dawn. I was always a shy kid, watching her from afar. But one day, I mustered up the courage to tell her how I really felt. She told me, to my surprise, that she had felt the same way for some time. And on that day, we became an item. We held hands each day through the hallways, and through her, I felt stronger. No longer shy, I finally had the confidence to be me.

We stayed together for a few years. Five, to be exact. We thought we'd be together forever... or at least I did. Life felt like heaven on earth, till that one fateful day. I arrived home from training at the local wrestling school, and I came face to face with a nightmare born into reality. My jaw dropped, as I found Krys in bed with my best friend, Bass Monsoon. Bass and I were in training for the world of pro wrestling, and we'd both been buddies since high school. But on that day, my world had come crumbling down around me, just as it had when my mother left. I rushed through the doors, and sped off in my car, leaving just as my mom had years ago.

My life was filled with moments like this. And one of the most tragic, personally, was the day I was first booked to compete on a televised wrestling event. My big time debut, and my opponent was none other than my childhood hero, "The Deite's Dragon" Javex Valerius. As a boy, I looked up to him, via the television screen. When I sat on the living room floor, my father off galavanting with Jenny, I had one outlet to turn to. And that was his death-defying aerial acrobatics. My eyes would be glued to the screen, and I lived for those nights when he would face all odds, and come out on top. I lived vicariously through him, dreaming of one day following in his footsteps. Blazing my own trail to glory.

When I grew up, and traveled to wrestling school, I began to slowly build my career. One night, before heading home, I spotted him. JVX, visiting the school to scout talent. I felt my heart race, but I wanted more than anything to tell him my feelings. You see, as a child... my first male crush was Javex. And on that night, I saw my chance, and I took it. I walked toward him, tapped him on the shoulder, and he turned to me. I poured my heart out to him, told him how I'd felt for years, that I adored him...

And he laughed in my face.

I felt shamed. I felt that same, crumbling feeling I'd felt time and again. I fled from his sight, as he cackled loudly at my embarrasment. If that had been it, I might have been able to deal with it. But then, a few months later, I received my try-out match. It was set to be me vs him, and I felt butterflies in the pit of my gut. I didn't know if I could go through with it. Not after the man I'd looked up to since I was a kid had ripped my heart in two.

He made his entrance, to the overwhelming applause of his fans. And then, he picked up a microphone. I stood backstage, as he ripped me out from the closet, clawing and scratching, as he revealed what I'd told him in private. He laid me out before the world, and they too laughed at me just as he had months before. I couldn't handle it. I stepped through the curtains as my music played, but as I stared down the aisle, saw him glaring at me... as I saw the legions of Dragon Followers roar with laughter, I couldn't take it. I ran back through the curtains, headed out of the arena, and once again drove off into night.


"There's something inside you.
It's hard to explain.
They're talking about you, boy,
But you're still the same..."


Fast forward to the present. I stood up from the ground, and tried once again to call Hannah Jo. As I did, I turned around, and I glanced above. I saw a giant billboard, advertising NFW's 'Random Rumble'. And as my eyes spotted the promotional sign, the phone FINALLY picked up a decent signal, and HJ's voice was heard. I told her that I was close to arrival, and I also told her about the billboard. She told me that she already knew about it, and had contacted the company, entering my name into the fray. I was taken aback, but excited. It seemed as if MAYBE, finally, things were beginning to fall into place. I felt a change in the air. I felt that this was my time...

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THE Mac Bry

League Member
Feb 23, 2014
Sinister City, Nevada by way of Nowhere, Oklahoma
"I will take your breath away..."

"Listen as the wind blows, from across the great divide.
Voices trapped in yearning, memories trapped in time.
The night is my companion, and solitude my guide.
Would I spend forever here...

"And not be satisfied?"


My cycle finally pulled into the driveway. She rushed toward me, her arms outstretched, and we embraced. It was the moment I'd been yearning for, and it was perfect. "BUBBY!!" she exclaimed.

"Hannah...", I gazed into her gorgeous, grey eyes, and smiled. "I'm home."

But, just as I had arrived, it was time for another departure. Ours, together, as we set course for Chicago in her crimson red convertible. I finally had a chance to shine, to show the world that the past 14 years of my life would not be wasted. My entire career led to this point. Nay, my entire LIFE. Every obstacle, every trial and tribulation. This was the culmination of all the hell I'd crossed, and I would not allow anything short of victory.

This was my time.
I would make it happen,
With her by my side.


"Through this world I've stumbled,
So many times betrayed.
Trying to find an honest word, to find
The truth enslaved.

"Oh, you speak to me in riddles,
And you speak to me in rhymes.
My body aches to breathe your breath...

"Your words keep me alive."


"You're listening to 96.3, WBBM FM here in Chicago!! I'm Tad Griswold, and I'm a massive tool!"

The DJ yelled into the microphone, as the radio station returned from a commercial break. "With me today is a long-time combatant in the brutal realm of sports entertainment! None other than THE Mac Bry, accompanied by his lovely friend and newly signed manager, Hannah Jo Montana Malificent McMahon!! And MB, I hear Hannah Jo has entered you into the upcoming NFW Random Rumble, is that correct?"

I smiled, turned my head to HJ, who smiled in return. I then turned toward Tad and spoke. "That's absolutely correct, Tad. Hannah KNEW I was a shoe-in to win."

Tad cleared his throat. "But Mac, isn't it true that you've never really found success in this business? Hell, the last company you competed for, you only had ONE MATCH before you got the boot!"

I rolled my eyes, "Yes, Tad, but you neglect one detail. I've never had a gal like HJ by my side... till now. Now? I'm reinvigorated, I have my passion back. She lit my fuse, and I ain't lettin' it burn out this time. I'm entering that rumble, and I am BLOWING the competition away."

"Speaking of the competition", Tad chimed in, "How about we run over a few of your fellow participants? Let's speak of the ones who've shown their face on NFW airwaves. Mac, you are stepping into this thing as a newcomer, but these men and women have HISTORY. Are you certain you stand a chance? I mean, look at Legion, for example."

Hannah chuckled lightly to herself, "Tad, my Bubby once went by that very same name. Only difference is he had the talent to make that name MEAN something."

I smirked. "You're damned right. Leige, you have two men accompanying you, 'The Black Market'. I've led many a stable... The mWo, The Industry, Made in America. Each of them would put your little band of hoodlums to SHAME. You may not know me, but trust me, young grasshopper. You are nothing-- NOTHING, to me. You refer to your pack of jackals as an 'Army of Darkness'. Kid, my cousin Reeve Gordon led a group known as The Hierarchy. He adorned himself in dark cloth, a flowing jet black trenchcoat, he painted his face and he carried this right here..." I picked up the bat Reeve had bestowed upon me, "This baby right'chere, Reeve's trusty black baseball bat. He struck fear in the hearts of all who stood before him. He led men into war, and he carved a path through company after company. Darkness was his guide. He loomed in the shadows, and he brought grown men to their knees. The Showman. Leige, you and your boys pale in comparison to his legacy. To MY legacy. And if you dare to cross my path in the Rumble? I will bring you to your knees just as Reeve did so many. And I will not be afraid to strike you down with this very baseball bat. Step into my web, said the spider to the fly. Take a sip... a taste. And I will show you where your dreams come to a close. The end is near, my friend. I will BE... your end."

Tad's eyes widened just a bit, and he spoke. "Strong words, indeed. Then, we've got Kerry Kuroyama. He has his sights set on Lane Cash and the group known as 'Dirty Deeds'."

Hannah intervened, "Each of these men has their focus on someone. That's GOOD, because they'll be far too busy to target the one man that poses the greatest threat."

I giggled with demented glee, "You are SO right, Hannah darlin'. Kerry, I see your dojo, I see you returning to your roots. You wanna know where my 'roots' lie? Nowhere, Oklahoma. And I was oh so ready to uproot and travel so I could plant the seed for my future. And my future BEGINS at the Random Rumble. While you're busy going after Dirty Deeds, I will blaze a trail. You will be MY 'stepping stone', as I heave you over the top along with every other body I can get my clutches on. I see your potential, I see your ability, but my motivation is overwhelming. I don't just WANT to win this. I must. It is MANDATORY that I claim this Rumble as my own proving ground. To prove to the world... to prove to my father, to prove to Javex Valerius, to prove to Alexis, to prove to MYSELF... that I am destined for success. Through hell and highwater, I have met failure, but I have held my head high. I have kept moving forward. Sure, I've come THIS close to throwing in the towel. But Kerry, I'm sure a man of your honor knows... that is not an option. As soon as I give up, it's over. But if I keep moving? If I keep pushing forward, if I keep fighting. I will overcome. And I will win. And I WILL win the Random Rumble. I've heard the naysayers, I've heard the doubt, the critics, the cynics. I've heard them since I was young, and I hear them now. They say I don't stand a snowball's chance in hell of walking away from this thing as the winner.

"I say? That I will prove them wrong. I will win this, my first match in NFW. And I will step into FutureShock 2... as the number one contender to the World Heavyweight Title."

Tad let out an audible gasp, slightly surprised that a man such as I, that had never truly accomplished much of anything in this business... that a supposed 'failure' could bring such passion. Such energy. I was alive again.


"Into this night I wander.
It's morning that I dread.
Another day of knowing of
The path I fear to tread.
Oh, into the sea of waking dreams,
I follow without pride.
Nothing stands between us here...

"And I won't be denied."


"Mac, there is another name. Ill Fortune. Which actually consists of two names-- Alex Austin, and Lucky Seven. Mac, do you have any words for these two?"

"Well," I replied, "They seem to hate rednecks. Coming from Oklahoma, and being as out of place as I was there... I gotta admit. I already like the cut of their jib. But Alex, you made one crucial mistake. You say you're not like everybody else. I beg to differ. Because, while you may not follow their formula, you will follow them, right over the top rope, sprawled on the outside, at my hands. But, I will deliver you and your gal pal from the indignity of being associated with the others... because when I'm done with you? I will etch your names in the annals of NFW history... as two of the VERY first to fall beneath the blade of the FUTURE World Champ. Step up to the table. Roll the dice... and you will find, my children, that your luck? It's about to run out."

Tad once again cleared his throat, and tossed out one final name. "Teddy Alexander. Mac, you've gotta have somethin' to say about this man. He's a bona-fide LEGEND in this company."

This time, it was Hannah's turn to clear her throat. "Tad... legends are meant for the history books. That's all Ted is. History. Of the ANCIENT variety. He steps in the ring with my Bubby? He steps in front of the future. He steps into the ring with the man that will BREAK him in half, and make Mr. Alexander his BITCH."

I slowly stood from my chair. I folded my arms in front of my chest, I stared down at the floor, and I spoke, in a hushed tone. "Teddy. Teddy, Teddy, Teddy... The Philadelphian Nightmare. The Spinal Smash Monger. The Broad Street BEHEMOTH."

I began to pace, slowly, methodically, thoughts running through my head, as I continued. "Teddy... allow me to tell you, just who in the HELL it is, that iAm. I am The Storm. I am The Show. I am the alpha, the omega, the dark and the light. I AM THE Mac Bry. I am the man who has traveled near and far, felt the pain, felt the HURT... came up empty handed over, and OVER again. But did I give up? Did I throw in the towel? No. HELL no. I have faced legends. I have DEFEATED legends. I have brought legends to their limit, brought them to their knees, HUMBLED them. And Teddy... don't you doubt for one, single, solitary, SECOND... that I will hesitate to do the very same to you."

I then slowly walked toward the host of the show, Tad Griswold, my eyes still focused on the floor. I clamped my hand down upon his shoulder, as he began to shake. "Teddy... keep your eyes LOCKED on Leyenda de Ocho. Why? Because, when you do, and oh how I know you will. You will not see it coming, when I STRIKE you down. I will tear you asunder, and cast you from the ring with my fury. You bring a legacy? I bring 14 years of turmoil, which I have learned from, and turned into my weapon. I will come into the Rumble... and I will BE prepared. Face me. Come at ME, and the ending will be the same as it would be if no one paid me any mind.

"I will be the death of you all. Because when I am focused? When I KNOW what my goal is, when I am FOCUSED on that goal? I have no choice...


".....but to come out on top."

I struck him down. I brought the bat down upon Tad's skull, sending him crashing down to the floor. Just as I knew I would 29 of NFW's best. I glared down upon Griswold, a demonic grin spread across my face... and I glanced over at my Sissy. And the very same grin was spread across her beautiful face. I picked up Tad's headset, and uttered a few simple words. "WBBM is experiencing technical difficulties. We'll be right back, after these messages."

I walked toward Hannah, and took her by the hand. We gazed into eachother's eyes, and smiled.

Before taking off into the night..



"And I would be the one,
To hold you down,
Kiss you so hard,
I'll take your breath away.
And after? I'd wipe away the tears...

"Just close your eyes."

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Where's my money, Chad?
Jul 3, 1997
The Silk Road
Gold Devil, White City


(FADEIN: On the face of CASTOR STRIFE, it’s left side swollen and discolored. Castor is sitting at a table in the THREE DIMENSIONAL bar, Chicago, staring off into the pyramid engraved on his sterling silver 5-year sobriety coin as he spins it like a top with both his thumbs. The female bartender walks by and drops off a Coke with lemon and a straw)

V/O: “Sometimes you walk through hell just to gauge the temperature. Man adapts and evolves, gets comfortable, gets weak, dies off. If you stare long enough at a snuff video, it might get you hard. Stare too long, and you go limp again. I need to break that ceiling; no knife is too sharp, no gold is too rich. For years, I pissed acid rain from a zipper in the sky, into the open mouths of the ambitious and hungry.”

(FLASHCUTTO: The mask of STRYFE; back to Castor, now at the front window of the establishment, looking out onto N. Lincoln Avenue, where across the street the old Biograph Theater stands)

V/O: “When I fell, they buried me in glass. Then I rose, looking for that next challenge, the next level – the deep core, deep web, underside of the glacier-type quest to propel me back to and beyond heights once reached. Heavy is the head that used to wear the crown. I am consumed with thoughts, dreams. Swollen is the face that wears your own. Beady, the eyes staring back. Who is Stryfe?”

(CUTTO: Castor walks down N. Lincoln Ave in a daze, his forehead starting to leak blood from a wound that has opened. He touches it with his fingers, and wipes it on his jeans. Camera CLOSES UP on his eyes, squinting when met with the egregiously bright lights of an indoor stage show. Passersby include: WHITEGIRLNOSERING; BLACKKIDSKATEBOARDAFRO; BUSINESSSUITBEERBOTTLE; GANGOFKIDS; HOMELESSMANCOFFEECUPOPENHAND (SHAKINGCHANGE); ENDOFWORLDSIGNGUY. Castor stops at the table of a street performer – a Haitian man wearing a top hat, dusty old suit and brown sandals on his cracked and dirty feet. His face is painted like a skeleton, and he is excessively thin. At his table lay an assortment of items: lit candles, chicken bones, open mouth skull, black moon statue, and a mini straw-hat doll with beads for eyes and pins stuck throughout its little body)

V/O: “My search for answers continued despite exhausting all the conventional avenues. Stan Vick, Stryfe...they cracked me open and spilled the life out. So I venture unconventionally, straight paths feeling like spiral staircases, mind separated from a body that operates like an open-source terminal. Stryfe feels realer than ever. What does that make me? Up is sideways, down is blue, black is red. If Castor Strife is not himself, then the Pope is a Devil and the street swindler a prophet.”

VOODOO MAN: “Bonswa me bleedin’ head friend! Come and hear ya FUTURE, ya PASSST, andja PRESENT! It’s all in the CARDS say me yeah. All in the cards...” (smiles)

(Castor’s mouth moves, but the voiceover speaks for him)

V/O: “I ask him to tell me about Stryfe.”

VOODOO MAN: “Ha! Whatcha wanna know ‘bout the strife? Maybe the CARDS have ya answer!”

V/O: “I want his name”

(The man leans forward and turns his ear toward Castor)

VOODOO MAN: “HIS name? Whatcha say? HIS name? (laughs) I like that! Strife in the FLESH! Listen, ‘cause the cards be speakin. Sometime, ya know, the spirits be inside, tryin’ to get HEARD by the living.”

V/O: “He shows me the moon card, the magic mirror. A point of contact between two worlds; of the living, and the dead.”

VOODO MAN: “16[SUP]th[/SUP] temple, hear me? Now SEE it. (flips card – fire) PETRO! Flambeau for the man who BURN through the world, never taking turns to the world. An impatient man. (shows third card with a woman on the front) Marie Laveau is a truth shower – THE ILLUMINATOR. Hear me now, and heed the word...ya be creating fires in the world of the living, turnin’ lights on in the world of the DEAD. Ya done showed a dead man the WAY...to the RESURRECTION. Now ya LIVIN’ IN HIS TOMB I SAY! Fifteen dollars for ya trouble.”

(The man goes mute while his mouth continues moving. CLOSEUP on his eyes, his mouth, his hands...and the scene immediately changes. CUTTO Castor moving his way down N. Lincoln, people appearing and disappearing at his side)

V/O: “What to do with a man who appears behind every door? Do I leave the house, or set it on fire?”

(CUTTO: Castor is outside of Polekatz Gentleman’s Club, where he converses with a 30-something woman in furs whom he knows from past work in the Adult Film Industry. She smiles, shakes a bottle of pills, and leads him into the club)

V/O: “No, I let him in. I stay. I play the game. Because in this house, I am the monster. I am the man behind doors number one, two, three. Have a healthy fear of Castor Strife, impostor. Do not tempt he whose currency is temptation.”

(CUTTO: Castor in a bathroom stall, digging into his pocket for pills that he dumps into the toilet and flushes, while his hands shake)

V/O: “In the name of gold, I will destroy you from the inside out. Even as you consume me, remember that the candle can relight and survive the hollow inside of the rotting jack o’lantern’s mouth. You are nothing but a meme – a single-picture explanation in an age where simplistic symbolism only survives for a news cycle.”

(CUTTO: A limousine stops underneath a red light; CUTTO inside the limo where Castor is sprawl out along the back seat, pulling a cigarette away from his mouth as the red light shines across his forehead)

V/O: “I’m the money man; the contract man. For saving this company during its darkest days, I deserve it. That’s what I earned. Joe is gone. Impulse is gone. Nova is gone. Shane, Manson, Miles, Ryan...they’ve all gone away. I’m the last of the fucking natives. I outlived them, and eclipsed them.”

(CUTTO: The outside of the limo – camera pans out at the entire city of Chicago’s skyline)

V/O: “I am not a happy man, impostor. For as long as I can walk, I will not leave money or gold on the table. It’s not a matter of want, but need. I traded one vice for another. You and the entire frontier expects me to simply...move out of your way. After a fall through glass; a controversial victory; a loss on a convention room floor. You see the writing on the wall, but it is only the end of a chapter, not the closing of my story.”


“...that gold is the corpse of value.”

“...that need is greater than want.”

“...that you should never trust a junkie.”


Copyright 2014 Castor V. Strife Productions


Jan 1, 2000
Shaping Fate

OOC: Deadlines? *drops shades* Where we're going, we don't NEED "deadlines." *hits flux capacitor and goes back in time*

(The shot opens on KERRY KUROYAMA, clad in an ensemble green trunks, black gloves, gray Dojo t-shirt. Behind him hangs a stylized NFW RANDOM RUMBLE banner backdrop, showing the stylized logo over a wide shot of the United Center beneath a crimson star watermark. Somewhere off in the background, "Riot Sugar" by Boris playing, keeping to the theme of obscure Japanese sludge metal. The young man's emboldened stare demands our attention.)

"Every man walking into this Rumble has his own story to tell."

"Obstacles to overcome... vendettas to settle... conquests to achieve..."

"So many stories... and yet, only one of them is going to find a happy ending at the end of Random Rumble. Only one man is going to have the strength, the skill, and the willpower necessary to outlast over thirty other competitors in this company. And it's not going to matter who he is, or what he's gone through, or what he says he's going to do to himself. We shape our fates in this industry through our actions, rather than our words."

(Restless, he paces back and forth before the camera.)

"Lately, I've been wondering as to how I fit into all of it. Who is Kerry Kuroyama, the young man they call the Pacific Blitzkrieg? The future of New Frontier, or just another dreamer with stars in his eyes, blinding his vision to a harsh reality that he has yet to see?"

"By now, everybody knows about the third-generation wrestler, born, raised, and trained in Seattle, and cut his teeth in the UWA back in Philadelphia. Everybody knows the fast rising star with the focused work ethic, and youthful zest to achieve greatness, gaining more momentum in his mission with every match. But to me, that's only part of the story I'm wanting to tell..."

"Because what does any of that really mean once that bell rings and chaos erupts in this match? How is any of that going to help me when I'm pitted against so many other competitors who are just as focused, just as motivated, and in many cases, more experienced than myself?"

"Simply put, it won't... because my story outside the ring doesn't define the athlete I am."

(He turns to the camera once again, tapping the navy, aqua, and emerald triple yin-yang logo of the Dojo on his chest.)

"Who Kerry Kuroyama is as a competitor... as a professional wrestler... that's the only story I'm interested in telling. And it will be told in the Random Rumble, regardless of how it all plays out. People won't remember the path I walked to get to this point... by then, they'll cease to care. All they will remember is the fight I put forward, and how far it takes me."

(He shrugs.)

"And honestly, I don't know how far it will take me, when all is said and done. I can't tell you in absolute confidence that I'm going to win... because the fact is, I've never won a match of this caliber in my short career, let alone competed in one."

"Some of you might look at that statement as showing weakness... perhaps suggesting I don't have enough willpower to succeed, or I'm doubting myself. Personally though, I see it as simply pointing out an obvious fact. I don't know if I'm going to win, because I don't know the future. I don't know if I'm going to cross paths with the wrong person, or if somebody will jump me from behind and eliminate me, either putting me over the ropes or putting me on the mat long enough for a pin."

(He holds up his fists as he clenches his hands, narrows his eyes, and grits his teeth, baring the face of fierce determination.)

"All I DO know that I want it more than anything else in this world, and I'm willing to do anything I can do get there."

"And what I also know is that I can take on any man walking into the Random Rumble and give him trouble. You've all seen it in the events leading up to this... regardless of the opponent, whether it be Langston or Alexander, I can take him to the limit. You've all seen the competitor I am, and where it's gotten me. And that's all the confidence I need to walk down to that ring, step through those ropes, and put up the fight of my life... knowing that at the very least, there's a chance for me to win this thing."

"Like I said last time, with the right amount of focus, practice, and determination, hope can be a powerful force. Some would go as far to say it's essential. I hope I pull through and win this match... but at the same time, I'm taking care not to get too overconfident. Because in the few years I've been a part of this sport, from the indie levels of IWF and UWA right up here to the big leagues, I've seen so many athletes speak and carry themselves on a sense of confidence that was based on little more than the hope that once that bell rings, they'll prove themselves right."

"And I'm talking about other young athletes, with just as much natural talent, charisma, and drive as myself. And one after another, I would watch them fall off the path to success, because they were too stuck up in their own heads and their own beliefs to see the obstacles coming their way. Hope is double-edged sword. True hope can be a powerful weapon. False hope only brings false confidence... and that only leads to disappointment."

"But as for me? I have no intention of letting my dreams be broken, on account of ignorance. I base my confidence not so much on hoping I'm right, but knowing I'm right. Knowledge comes from studying facts... and the facts of this industry are only made clear between those ropes, and between the bells."

"For some of you, you're not hearing anything new... but I'm bringing this up anyway for the benefit of a few others involved in this rumble who might be getting lost in their own fog."

"Specifically you, Mac Bry."

(He takes a step toward the camera, and it tracks in on him a bit so that he fills a bit more of the frame.)

"Mac, you felt a need to call me out and suggest I'm perhaps focusing too much of my attention on the guys from Dirty Deeds. That maybe I'm somehow ignoring the threat you pose."

"Well congratulations... you've successfully got my attention now."

"Here's the deal, Mac... we get that you're from Oklahoma. We get that you've overcome a lot of hardships in your life. We get that you have a lot of hope and desire riding on this match, given all of these irrelevant people you're fighting for. We get that you have a love for generic radio rock that was popular ten years ago. All of that is a part of your own story... it all tells us who Mac Bry the person is."

"But frankly, I'm not interested in listening to any of that. I'm not interested in knowing who 'THE' Mac Bry is; I'm only interested in knowing THE wrestler that waits for me in the ring. You've proven you can talk like one, but talk is one thing... acting like a full-blown professional wrestler is another. It's more than simply saying the right words; it's about making the right claims."

"You claim you WILL win this rumble... but simply put, you don't have the facts to back up that claim. This is your first match in the company, and already you're believing that you can outlast every untested opponent waiting for you in that ring. I just don't see the logic behind it... I don't know what makes you reach that conclusion, because all of it is based on the presumption that you can literally come out of Nowhere and triumph over the greatest professional wrestling company on the planet."

"Not to say it hasn't been done before... but honestly, just based off of how you speak and carry yourself on false confidence, I have little reason to believe anything you say is true."

"You can point to other places from the past and former conquests... but none of that really matters at present. I can tell you from firsthand experience that anything you've gone through before now will pale in comparison to the experience of stepping into that ring with the crimson star in the mat, where the greatest athletes in this industry converge to prove their worth."

"And like I said in the beginning, we've all got our own stories... our own motivations. You think you will win, because you believe there is nobody else who can be as motivated as you. But who are you to say that yours is greater than anybody else? Greater than mine, even?"

(Dismissively, he shakes his head.)

"You don't know anything about me, Mac. You watched a promo and made a few assumptions. You don't know anything about my family's legacy, and my mission to live up to it. Or my desire to make my peers and mentors back at the Dojo in Seattle proud, and to honor all of the hard work and faith put into my rise to success. There's a whole bunch of people I'm fighting for... people you've never heard of, and probably don't care about. But should you and I cross paths in the Random Rumble, I can promise that you'll feel their presence, with every blow, and with every devastating landing onto the canvas."

"Because unlike you, Mac, I'm able to say that I CAN do that. Hope and motivation is nothing without the ability to back it up... something I understand completely. But you haven't said anything to show me that you understand it yourself. I'm trying to show the world that in addition to my motivation, I have the skill and focus and natural talent necessary to fulfill it. All I see in you is false hope and false confidence... and the tendency to say more than necessary."

"A motivated individual can perform amazing feats... but he has no chance in hell in a wrestling match against an equally motivated wrestler better equipped to win the competition."

"You're not going to win this match... because I'm not going to let you. Not as long as I have the ability to do something about it. As much as I give you respect for being a man who has the courage to walk into that hell and has overcome much to get here, it insults me to listen to you make egregious claims of greatness. Because you've got nothing to show for it... and for the past year, I've been a part of this company, painstakingly trying to show the entire world my own claim to greatness, one grueling match at a time."

(Raises his fists one more time.)

"It's time I show you first hand, Mac... along with everybody and anybody else walking into the Random Rumble that doubts the Pacific Blitzkrieg has any chance in fulfilling his potential. Think I'm wrong? Well, I'm an open-minded individual... but I'm not going to let anybody else prove me otherwise. That's the benefit of being a great professional wrestler... I have the power to write my own ending to this story."

"And until you say or do anything worthwhile to give me any reason to think otherwise, Mac Bry, then you're well on your way to becoming just a footnote in the story of Kay-Squared. If you don't want to let that happen, then my advice to you see to not find yourself out in the open... because you'll only be swept away once the STORM comes to the United Center!"

(As his final words reverberate a moment longer, he turns away from the camera and the shot slowly goes to black.)

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