Battleground 1.1 Voting & Promo Thread

[sineater]

Tonight: GM Cyanide welcomes you to the first episode! What will our cultish GM have in store for you tonight? Two 5-Man Scramble Matches will take place! The top 2 times as "leader" in each Scramble Match will move on in the tournament to crown the initial International Champion! TICKETS ARE JUST $5!!!

-Battleground, Live from the Warehouse Arena in Seattle Washington-
Tonight's Card

5-Man Scramble Match:
Jason Frantick vs. Marco Ferrari vs. Nicholas Grey vs. Robert Machale vs. Titanium Steel

MAIN EVENT, 5-Man Scramble Match
Hunter Moss vs. Dante Azarius vs. Von Jäger vs. Christian Kataclysm vs. ???

Top two times in each match compete next week to move on in the tournament to crown the first International Champion.

Promo only until May 4th at 11:59 pm EST
Voting and Promo (with Penalty) May 6th 11:59 pm EST

[Valladon]

Who could ask more of a man, than giving all within his span, for giving all it seems to me; is not too far from victory...

...Do you Believe?

-John Wooden

Bobby sat at that bar doing nothing. Nothing...but thinking.

Thinking and Drinking. Those two are a pair. Anyone will tell you, when put in the thought process, and hands of Mr. Robert MacHale, you have yourself a problem.

----

The Barman studies Robert's face for quite some time before coming to the conclusion:

Barman: You're too young to be here.

Robert pauses only for a moment to glance at the bartender. He sets his bottle of Guinness down, and looks up at the bartender.

Robert: Have you ever been faced with such a dissapointment, that, maybe, you feel a little bit older than you really are?

Barman: No, can't say that I have.

Robert: Well then, do I need to go any further? Or have I provided enough for you?

Barman: Son, I think you need to leave

Robert doesn't even THINK about moving. He just picks up the bottle and takes another swig.

Barman: Look kid, you're about the only customer I've had all day, so I'll let you stick around if you behave yourself.

Robert only grumbles. He knows his limits.

As the barman turns away to polish some shot glasses, a group of fraternity brothers walk through the front door, one, laughing histerically at something another one had said, and another almost falling over drunk.

The frat boys go and sit down at the bar, the opposite end of Bobby, and they begin to converse with the Barman.

Frat Boy: Ey' Jim!

Barman: Yeah?

Frat Boy: Give me somethin' good tuh drink. Uhm Thirsty.

Jim: What'll you have then?

Frat Boy: Ah...I can't decide...just give me the usual.

From across the room, Robert calls out.

Robert: I'd try a Moose Drool. Mighty fine beer.

His speaking catch's the attention of the young drunk man.

Frat Boy: Oi, I know you.

Robert: Oh, really? (he takes a swig from his beer)

The Drunk stands up, peering at Robert. He inches closer, as though Robert was a rare animal.

Frat Boy: Oh damn! It's Robert!

Robert: ...Nice to see you again, Matthew.

Matthew: So you remember me?

Robert: Yeah, I wrestled with you back in Junior High...then a little high school.

Matthew: Yeah, You were good, you kicked my ass.

Robert: I know.

Matthew: *burp* and Modest much, are we?

Robert: I flaunt my abilities, Matthew.

Matthew: Well that won't get you anywhere, I bet you're off to college soon, then.

Robert: Nope. You'd think I'm good enough, right?

Matthew: You were great, but I always knew you would amount to nothing.

Robert: Oh? What gave you that Idea? The broken nose in 7th grade? Or was it the dislocated shoulder during Freshman year?

Matthew: I wasn't cut out for wrestling and you know it.

Robert: Yeah, I knew it then too.

Matthew: Shut the Fuck up. I can't wrestle, but I can still beat your ass.

Robert: You keep telling yourself that, buddy.

Matthew: I'm not your damn buddy. Why can't you go to college anyway?

Robert eyes him carefully. The actual truth hurt him, and he didn't want to reveal it.

Robert: I just never got accepted...they didn't want me around the high school anymore, so I left. Now I'm here, one year later...drinking it up.

Matthew: and It's exactly how I pictured you back in high school, you know?

Robert: and Look at you...You're nothing. You've got your frat brothers thinking you're all bad. I bet your major is some stupid shit, like cooking.

Matthew: That's it fucker, you want to get your ass beat?

Robert stands up, and the Barman moves for the phone, but with out moving his eyes from Matthew's drunken gaze, he chucks his bottle at the Barman's head, who is knocked out cold. Tension fills the room, Matthew is stumbling around shouting insults to Robert. The frat boys behind them are shouting encouragements to Matthew, and telling him to "whoop his ass"

It is then that Matthew moves forward to strike. Robert bends his back, and steps to the side, reaching out almost rhythmically to catch Matthew's wrist. He shoots his knee to the ground while holding on to Matthew's wrist. His other hand moves between his legs, and lifts him onto his back in a squat position. Matthew is caught in a Fireman lift. Matthew Struggles, but it only makes things worse. Robert turns to face the rest of the Frat Boys, he then mouths the words, "Fuck You" before tossing Matthew F-5 style into the wall behind the bar. Tons of Bottles and Glasses follow him to the floor.

All three remaining frat brothers are standing, rage in their eyes, ones pops his knuckles threateningly before stepping forward and taking a swing.

Robert: OH! This one is sober!

Frat Boy: Designated Driver here.

Robert: If you want to be able to drive home after this, I suggest you sit down. as in NOW.

But the young man just keeps swinging. Instead of moving forwards and in, Robert Ducks and moves backwards this time. They keep moving backwards until Robert just about reaches the wall. When the young man takes his final movement of a swing, Robert scoots the side, throwing his foot out to catch the ankle of this man. He trips forward, and Robert turns around him and Smashes his face into the wall. He bleeds severely from the nose. His two buddies run to his side to roll him over, so he doesnt drown in his blood.

Robert moves for the door. Just as he reaches it, the sound of the pump shotgun is heard. The Bartender is pointing it directly at him.

Jim: And just where do you think YOU are going?

Robert: I'm leaving, you going anywhere?

Robert says this as he calmly strides up to the barman, who is still holding the gun at head level.

Jim: OH no, you're staying here till the police get here, AND you're paying for how you wrecked my bar.

Robert: If you expect me to stay here, you must be imagining things...

Jim: No sir, I[/u] am sober So-

Robert: See, thats the difference between you and I.

Robert lightly brushes the tip of the barrel of the gun, and then smacks it away. The Bartender backs up, but its too late. Robert Decks him, and the scene fades to black.....

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

The Scene cuts to a younger Robert...only a year younger, his 18th birthday. He's in his Ecological Science class.

Teacher: In Closing, a Niche is an organisms selective job within its environment, Robert, can you tell me what a Keystone Species is?

Robert: Well, its an organism that without it the popula-

Just then the phone rings.

*RING*

*RING*

Teacher: Hello?...Yes....Okay.

Teacher: Robert, Coach Nakashima would like to see you in the cafeteria.

Robert grabs a quickly scribbled pass written by his teacher, and walks out with his belongings. He makes his way down to the cafeteria excited, Maybe Nak had found him a college!

As he enters the cafeteria, He eyes Nakashima, who looks almost sad.

Nakashima: Grab a seat, Bobby.

Robert sits down on one of the cafeteria benches.

Nakashima: Well, it looks like we're going to have to postpone your agents. We need to work with Steven.

Robert: Wait...what? You're delaying me for a.....freshman?

Nakashima: This kid's got a lot of talent, Bobby, just like you did. He's already matched you in state record.

Robert: He went triple crown...big deal. He's got more juniors than me, because he started before me.

Nakashima: Look, he's on an Advanced Diploma Track. He may well graduate by the time he's sixteen. If thats the case, we need to keep colleges open for him.

Robert: So wait...you're saying that I don't get any agents period?

Nakashima: You graduate in two weeks, Bobby. You're a good wrestler, and you have AMAZING skill, but we want to see what Steven can do more. You've already shown us.

Robert: Coach....you're taking my dream from me.

Nakashima: College isn't all its cracked up to be. You'd lose a lot more, trust me.

Robertt: I'm on a 16 win streak, are you kidding me? I can't remember the last time I lost at state, and now I'm not good enough?

Nakashima: Bobby, you're more than good enough. You've already shown us that. I think it's time you just moved on.

Without another word, tearing up, Robert walks out of the cafeteria...not back to class, but to his car. He goes home, and sleeps a very deep sleep.

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

Hello fans! And welcome to the pre-show for a MUCH anticipated event! The opening of AOW: BattleGround!

Bmore: I'm Bmore, along with Matthew Strife, and we are VERY excited to be here.

Strife: Okay, First off Bmore, I can introduce myself, and secondly, I'm not too happy yet. I want it to get started NOW.

Bmore: I know what you're saying Matthew...Tonight, we have only TWO matches!

Strife: You got that right, and they better not disappoint!

Bmore: Thats right, Matthew, because live TONIGHT: We have two 5 man scrambles for the chance to win the AOW International Championship!

Strife: I've been waiting for this for weeks, and FINALLY, said match, it has arrived!

Bmore: Yes, and we have many-a-new stars to introduce tonight, and we'll see a LOT of action from all of them!

Strife: I sure hope so...for their sake.

Bmore: Anyway, Lets go backstage with the lovely Ashlyn Lavario as she catch's up with our very own Robert MacHale!!

--

Ashlyn: Thanks Bmore... So Robert! How do you feel about coming into tonights match.

Robert: Let me ask you something Ashlyn.

Ashlyn: Okay....

Robert: When you see a man walk in with a look on his face that resembles mine. Would you call him excited?

Ashlyn: Well, you look pretty determined.

Robert: I am. But let me tell you, I'm stoked to be honest. I haven't been happier in a long time.

Ashlyn: I bet! So this, this is your first time returning to Wrestling in....quite a while!

Robert: Not really...I've been coaching for the last few years. I'm here to redeem something, Ashlyn.

Ashlyn: And whats that?

Robert: The chance that I was never given. You see, that International Championship....it's MINE.

Ashlyn: Well....any more thoughts?

Robert Snatches the microphone, and a look of shock crosses her face before she backs away.

Robert stares directly into the camera for several seconds before he speaks.

Robert: Ladies and Gentlemen...Boys and Girls. I'm here to tell you, tell you that I dont give a rats ASS what you think. I'm here to win. And I will do just that. I'm telling you this right now. I will go in there tonight, and I will tear everyones ass down, I'll raise some hell, throw some people around, and then when all is said and done, I am going to walk out of that ring International Champion. And how I get to do it, I'm not sure yet. But when I leave, everyone will be bloody and broken, and I dont give a damn what you think about it. The Time of Robert MacHale has swept this industry, and you will all know the name.

------

Robert slams the microphone down before leaving the backstage area and heading back towards the locker rooms. Ashlyn walks up, and eyes the camera nervously before picking the microphone up and hastily walking away in the opposite direction.

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

EXACTLY ONE WEEK EARLIER

Robert approaches the door leading to the office of General Manager Sean Cyanide. Without Knocking, he walks directly in.

Cyanide is sitting at a 45 degree angle from Robert, revealing his sinister profile. One leg is pulled over the other, and he is throwing a tennis ball up and down in his hand, while he stares out his window.

Cyanide: Haven't you ever heard of knocking?

Robert: Bad habit of mine...I'm kind of impolite.

Cyanide: I suggest you show a little more respect.

Robert: Whatever...listen, I'm here to get on the card.

Cyanide: Wait...so you don't show me any respect, and you still expect me to put you on a card?

Robert walks closer to the desk, and sits down in a chair right in front of it.

Robert: That's exactly what I expect.

Cyanide: I like your type. You don't take no for an answer do you? Well this is a little different, you're talking to Sean Cyanide.

Robert: I had no idea...but listen, I'm praying to God right now tha-

At the sound of this, Cyanide rolls over out of his chair on top of his desk... The tennis ball rolls away disturbingly slow. His face nearly meets Robert's. Robert does not change in expression.

Cyanide: I AM your God.....

Robert: Sounds interesting...perhaps we'll discuss this later, anyway, I'm praying to you that I can change some of the fate I've met in the past. AOW will be different for me. There is no one here that can stop me.

Cyanide leans in closer and speaks with a hiss directly into Robert's ear.

Cyanide: I like the way you think, so I'm going to have a little...pact with you. I trust you to make an impact here on AOW so I'm going to put you on the card for opening night. What do you say to that?

Robert: I say my jobs done, and I will be leaving now, Mr. Cyanide.

Robert gets up and begins to leave. As he turns the door handle Cyanide speaks once more.

Cyanide: Oh, and welcome to AOW.

Robert turns to find that Cyanide is sitting exactly as he was when Robert first entered the room. He turns the handle and Leaves.

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

Redemption my friends, you don't have the motivation that I have to win.
But when it's all said and done, I'll try to leave you with at least a small shred of dignity.
Welcome to hell

[Killswitch]

Chronicles of

The Last Vampire

April 26, 1918

As I sit here, the preparations are being made to go on the annual family hunt. How my family looks forward to this hunt every year, even though I hate it.

For one, those stupid guns. Why must we brutalize animals for our food? Is there no other way? My father is insistent that I go, of course, but I wish he wouldn't be. What kind of man kills another living being for food? It's terrible.

My mother relishes the opportunity to experiment with the yearly catch, making horrible dinners.

Why, why, why? Well, it's time to go and kill some defenseless beast in the name of our food. Why am I trapped in this barbaric world?

Dante puts his journal down upon the calling of his name by his father, and pulls his sweater on. He grabs his gun and walks down the stairs, seeing his father waiting for him

Father: Dante, what have you been up to? I swear, I would grow old waiting for you to get ready.

You're so funny. Let's just get this over with.

His father nods his head in approval, and begins to load his gun as Dante walks outside. He smells the sweet air as he steps onto the grass outside his home. He begins to load his gun, and looks around as he does. He see's the luscious green of the forest surrounding his family's plot of land. He looks behind him, and see's his father walking out the door, cocking his gun as he does.

Father: Well Dante, lets do this son. You ready?

Thrilled.

Father: Well then, lets go.

The two depart into the field, not talking to each other as they go. They get up to the forest front, look at each other, Dante not meeting his fathers eyes, and then walk in, the trees enveloping them, they pull their guns to the ready, Dante's father scanning the area rapidly.

Father: Gun at the ready son.

Oh lord, what could possibly go wrong?

Father: Everything. Be at the ready.

The two walk on, Dante holding his gun nonchalantly to the side. As they walk, blood stains begin to appear on the ground. The two look ahead, and see the stains ending at a tree. They split up and each go around one side. Dante keeps his gun at his side despite his fathers warning. The two jump from either side, and see a man sitting against the side of the tree.

As they stare at the man, Dante sees that the blood is coming from a dying rabbit caught in the mans grasp. Blood is dripping down his mouth as he looks up.

Man: Ah, hello. I was just enjoying my evening meal.

Father: Evening..... meal?

Man: Yes, I've been traveling for quite a while now, and in my desperation for food, I had to make due. I'm still quite weak.

Father: Don't worry, I'll go get some help.

Man: That won't be-

Father: Nonsense, you need help man. Dante, watch him while I go get help.

What? But Dad-

Father: But nothing Dante, this man needs assistance, stay here.

Dammit.

As his father runs off, Dante walks over to the man, who is still sitting by the tree. He kneels down and puts his face right into the mans face. His nostrils flare as Dante gets nose to nose with him. He looks at his gun, but keeps it at his side.

Wow, you're not the greatest looking gook, are you?

The man looks up, a smirk on his blood covered face. He stands up and pushes Dante back. Dante pulls his gun up and points it at the man as he backpedals. The man continues walking forward, and Dante jabs his gun towards him.

Don't come any closer. I will shoot.

The man chuckles, and continues to walk towards Dante.

Man: Shoot me. I dare you.

Dante continues to fall back, still pointing his gun.

Man: Shoot me.

No

Man: Shoot me.

Just-

Man: SHOOT ME GODDAMMIT!!!

Dante pulls the trigger on instinct, and...

Man: You know, cocking your gun is a fairly useful trick.

With that, the man jumps at Dante, knocking him to the ground, then knocking the gun out of his hands. Dante try's to struggle bit is totally overpowered. As he tries, he feels a sharp pain in his neck. The man gets off of him, looks down at Dante, and smirks. He begins to walk away, turning to say a last few words.

Man: Welcome to immortality.

Wait..... what..... but....

Man: Fighting only makes it worse.

With that, he walks away, ignoring Dante's yells. As he walks off, Dante crawls behind a bush, holding back screams of agony. His neck throbs as he feels the cut on his neck, and realizes the pattern.

He.... he bit me....

And with that, a ripping pain sears through his body, and his sight goes pitch black as the pain envelopes him.

***

Fury....
Hate....
Revenge...

Those are the words that come to mind when I think of who made me this way. The one who made me this animal that I am.

He made me one who relies on blood to live, one who cannot die so long as that diet is held.

He made me a monster.

One day, I will find him again, and I will avenge myself for what he did. I will get my measure of revenge for him making my life this endless, miserable hell.

The thoughts cross through Dante's head as he sits on his leather sofa, deep in thought. His skin is pale as the moon, and his eyes burn crimson red as he stares into space. His hair is pulled up into neat spikes, and he is wearing a simple black shirt and black jeans.

This endless nightmare. I cannot describe it. I cannot sleep. I cannot eat. For 91 years, I have suffered in silence, not being able to reveal what I really am.

He looks around, taking several breathes as he does so. His eyes burn a hole through everything around him. He adjusts his position on the couch, and continues to stare into space.

I don't even need to breathe, although I choose. Not breathing would limit my sense of smell, and it's rather weird to not be able to smell.

He stands up, his wiry muscles flexing as he does so. He goes over to the window, and puts his hand against it, and evil smirk forming on his face.

My parents payed for what they put me through. They were among my first victims. I killed them slowly, savoring their blood, becoming stronger with every sip. Drinking their blood was like drinking a fine wine. No persons blood has tasted better then theirs, and I have tasted a lot of blood over the past 91 years. Then, as the month past, I made meals out of my old village. Not one person suspected anything as I ravaged through that village, drinking in the night, blending into the crowds by day. It now lays empty, a testament to my abilities. I have decimated other villages, and even some small towns since then, but the destruction of the village that shunned me from childhood was especially sweet.

Dante licks his lips as the memory comes back.

Ironic. When I was human, I was no hunter. I couldn't tell the butt end of a gun from the barrel. Now, I am on the top of the food chain. I am the worlds deadliest predator. Everything about me invites you in. My smell, my face, even my touch invites you closer, closer to what is inevitable anyway, closer to your death, and my empowerment. My life... rather, my existence, is dictated by suckering someone in, and taking their life from them, just like mine was stolen from me.

Dante sucks a breathe in, and lets it out slowly, the smirk gone from his face. His hand stays on the window, and cracks begin to appear on it.

I should be dead by now. I should be in whatever afterlife there may be. Instead, I live this convoluted life, where my fate hangs in the balance so long as I do not feed. A life where life cannot end for me, where I could not kill myself even if I wanted to. Even starvation does not work. How could this happen? How could fate have thrown me such a curve ball? WHY ME!?!?

The glass of the window shatters under the pressure that Dante is applying to it, several shards landing in his skin. He shows no sign of discomfort as he pulls the shards out, his expression cold as he does so. He throws the shards to the side, and backs away from the window. He falls to his knee's, and pounds several holes into the ground, unable to cry.

This strength, this smell, these looks, it's not NATURAL!! My only wish is to end it. My only wish is to finally pass on, and I cannot have it granted.

As he utters the final words, an idea comes to Dante. He looks on in shock for several seconds, before a small smirk comes to his face.

Unless... If I can invoke their anger, they will do it for me. They will end my existence for me. I will be debuting in AOW very shortly. If I can cause as much hell as I can, they would have to act to protect the secret. If I can do it, The Coven would grant me my wish. My wish to have this eternal damnation ended once and for all.

A light flashes in Dante's crimson eyes as the idea runs through stages in his head.

I must act fast. I have my chance at the upcoming AOW Battleground to start my mayhem, to start getting The Covens attention. If I can do enough damage, they will come.

Dante stands up, his crimson eyes filled with hope.

This is it. I will end up winning the International Championship. And if I cannot invoke The Covens fury, well then, eternity as the AOW International Champion suits me just fine. At least my existence will gain meaning when I win that belt.

Dante retakes his position sitting on his couch.

I really envy humans. The ability to die is a gift. They see it differently. They see it as a punishment. Well, I would gladly trade this immortal life for the ability to die. So, I shall punish humanity for this. I shall punish humanity for their desperate desire to curse themselves with eternal damnation. I started with my "loving parents". I continued with the total destruction of my village. And now, I will continue even further, in the hopes that humanity eventually learns that what they desire is a curse, as I have found out, rather then a blessing.

Dante's eyes burn with hate as he speaks these words, and he leans himself back, closing his eyes, although he does not sleep, for he lost that ability long ago. As his eyes close, he begins to whisper.

To all those in the match I'm in at Battleground, beware, for I will show no mercy whatsoever. Be ready, because I will not hesitate to destroy anyone who gets in my way.

With that, Dante crosses his arms over his chest, and begins to breathe evenly, thinking deeply, as that is really all he has left to do with his time.

***

“To desire immortality is to desire the eternal perpetuation of a great mistake”

- Arthur Schopenhauer

[Valladon]

VOTES SUBJECT TO CHANGE.

Tonight: GM Cyanide welcomes you to the first episode! What will our cultish GM have in store for you tonight? Two 5-Man Scramble Matches will take place! The top 2 times as "leader" in each Scramble Match will move on in the tournament to crown the initial International Champion! TICKETS ARE JUST $5!!!

-Battleground, Live from the Warehouse Arena in Seattle Washington-
Tonight's Card

5-Man Scramble Match:
Jason Frantick vs. Marco Ferrari vs. Nicholas Grey vs. Robert Machale vs. Titanium Steel

MAIN EVENT, 5-Man Scramble Match
Hunter Moss vs. Dante Azarius vs. Von Jäger vs. Christian Kataclysm vs. ???

Top two times in each match compete next week to move on in the tournament to crown the first International Champion.

Promo only until May 4th at 11:59 pm EST
Voting and Promo (with Penalty) May 6th 11:59 pm EST

[Sean]

Jason (voice over): They told me I’d never amount to anything.

A shot of Frantick’s feet moving across a concrete floor appear on the screen during this segment

Jason (voice over): They told me I’d never become famous.

Frantick’s feet stops moving for a movement, then continues walking

Jason (voice over): They even told me I’d live to be poor.

The camera pans upwards as we see Frantick’s face and he begins to speak.

Jason: Hey Mom and Dad, look at me now. Look at me now! I’ve toured across the world many times, I’ve earned more money than you could ever fathom. I know that the two of you are sitting at home, on your fat lazy asses, wishing you were better parents to me, just so I could give you a cut of the earnings! Not a chance. You’ve raised me so wrongly that I don’t care about the needs of others. You’ve raised me to not give a shit about anything other than myself. You were bad parents, but without you, I guess I wouldn’t have made it big like I did. Bassist and singer of my former band, made millions, loved by everyone in the world, and I turned my back on them and laughed. Much like you guys did to me.

Remember how every Christmas, you would lock me in my room while you guys bought Ashlyn all the gifts? How you would buy her stuffed animals, Barbies, and even those fucking ovens they make for little kids? Those stupid Easy Bake things? Why wasn’t I ever given a gift? It’s not like I’m the son of Satan or anything. So why did you two constantly shun me? Is it because when I was born, I was instantly better than anyone? I’ve always known that as soon as I emerged from my slut of a mother’s womb, I was the epitome of greatness. Destined to succeed at everything I do. Yes, that must be it, you were afraid of my greatness.

I hope you two enjoy being in that fucking old folks home. I hope you enjoy the threatening letters I send, the phone calls wondering if you were finally dead, the pictures of me succeeding at everything standing on your nightstands, reminding you of your actions. Fuck you Mom, fuck you Dad. A new era in my life has begun. The Frantick era.

Now, for those of you watching at home, here’s a bit of my backstory. You see, back when I was a kid, I was never abused, I was never hated, I was never unwanted. I was just misunderstood. My parents would constantly take any and all privileges I had as a kid, for fear that I would somehow use it against them. As I mentioned before, every Christmas I was told to stay in my room because my parents didn’t “want me to be disappointed”. They let my sister, Ashlyn –who works in this godforsaken company-out of her room and she was always given gifts. It could be due to her problem, with her mental health issues, but I don’t give a damn. Every year for Ashlyn’s birthday, she got everything on her birthday list. She even received a puppy for crying out loud. Sadly, the puppy didn’t live as it walked in the line of fire of my BB gun. And by that, I mean I was so fed up with life with my parents that I shot it in it’s sleep.

Every year for MY birthday, I got the same old thing; a Christian music tape/CD.

The funny thing is, my family isn’t even religious.

So why would my parents mentally abuse me? Why did Ashlyn get all the privileges I didn’t get? Why was favoritism always a part of the Frantick household?


I’ll tell you why, I’ll tell everyone why: I was just better than everyone in the family.

Perhaps all of you would like a little bit of my back story, right?

When I was six, I had met this kid in kindergarten. He had short brown hair, and was nice to everybody, but he had his moments. Occasionally, he had violent bursts of aggression. He would pummel kids with his tiny fists, sometimes bashing their heads against the art table. He would constantly tell Mrs. Wilhite to go “an M80 up her crotch” because “that’s the only explosive orgasm she’ll ever get”. Needless to say, I liked this kid.

I befriended him, and he has been the only friend I have ever had in my life, and we’re still friends today. Hell, he’s been to damn near every show I had when I was with my band, Dementia. Nowadays, that kid is a wrestler too. We trained together, we had matches together, but we seem to have split apart ever since he was called up to two major feds, and a smaller independent one. I forget what they are called, but that’s not important. If he’s watching this right now, I wish him good luck on his next match. I heard it’s a big one.

When I was thirteen, I was given my first bass guitar by my friend. It used to be his, but he decided to quit playing the guitar and train for wrestling instead. At the time, I was in the whole “wrestling is retarded” phase that most of the population of the world has been in/is in. But I supported his decision, even though it was mostly because he was giving me a fucking cool guitar for free. I played that thing for what seems like twenty four/seven. You just could not pry me away from my bass. I was glued to it like a junkie is glued to his addiction.


I formed my first band sometime in my early teenage years. I forget the name of the band, but it doesn’t matter. We never made it big and I beat the tar out of the bandmates just because they wouldn’t play the song I wrote about drugs. Stupid Mormons.

Fast forward three years later, when I made my first big break in a band. The days I spent while in Dementia were some of the best days I’ve ever had in my life. I spent years on the road with the guys. We were kicked out of many hotels, bars, houses (we liked to break in and piss on the people that were sleeping), and even jails because we were so obnoxious. No one wanted to deal with us, but everybody wanted to be us. Funny how that works right?

When I was eighteen, I was put in jail for drug charges. I was shooting heroin while waiting for my cheeseburger at McDonald’s. Oh, let’s not forget about the cocaine I sold to the customers there. Good times.

When I turned twenty, I decided to hang up the bass and the microphone and call it a career. I got in touch with the aforementioned best friend and he convinced me to get into the professional wrestling biz. I was reluctant at first because I didn’t really want to run around a square platform in front of thousands of people in an arena wearing a Speedo, or generally look like a fag like this Dante Azarius guy, but I swallowed my pride and started training.

I was accepted into a wrestling school called Razor’s School of Headlocks. Yeah, I thought the name was retarded too, but that’s what California is comprised of. Retards. Anyway, after a few weeks of doing the standard warmups, we got into the actual wrestling. My God, I never knew hurting people would be this much fun! I became the RSH Heavyweight champion just after a year in the school. I was then called up to be involved in All Out Wrestling.

So here we are children, present day. The boss of this company seems to be in a cult, there’s a guy resembling an overrated video game character, there’s a queer who thinks he’s a vampire, oh, and let’s not forget the robot. Yeah, there’s a fucking robot here. Anyway, I’m booked in a battle royal, and apparently there’s two of them and the winners will square off next week and fight for the oppourtunity to become the first ever International Champion. I say why go through all that trouble? I’m better than everyone in this company, I’m better than you, I’m better than your family, I’m better than anyone in the universe.


And you will all witness the Frantick Era on Battleground

[Sean]

Apr 18, 2009 0:50:59 GMT -7 sineater said:

Tonight: GM Cyanide welcomes you to the first episode! What will our cultish GM have in store for you tonight? Two 5-Man Scramble Matches will take place! The top 2 times as "leader" in each Scramble Match will move on in the tournament to crown the initial International Champion! TICKETS ARE JUST $5!!!

-Battleground, Live from the Warehouse Arena in Seattle Washington-
Tonight's Card

5-Man Scramble Match:
Jason Frantick vs. Marco Ferrari vs. Nicholas Grey vs. Robert Machale vs. Titanium Steel

MAIN EVENT, 5-Man Scramble Match
Hunter Moss vs. Dante Azarius vs. Von Jäger vs. Christian Kataclysm vs. ???

Top two times in each match compete next week to move on in the tournament to crown the first International Champion.

Promo only until May 4th at 11:59 pm EST
Voting and Promo (with Penalty) May 6th 11:59 pm EST

[Savvy]

Jason Frantick

Edward Cullen

[SOS]

Robert Machale

Hunter Moss

[Killswitch]

Jason Frantick

Dante Azarius

[sineater]

Jason Frantick

Dante Azarius

[Ro]

OOC: Ladies and gents, it is with Sean's approval that I may promo for 1.1 under my new character.

*****

April 10, 2009.

The gym was closing for the night. Priest and I were left to close up shop. Why we were the only ones left that night is the big puzzle and the answer isn’t very complicated. We were going at it in the ring for hours on end. It was his fault, so we can train my endurance (pro wrestling is cardio after all) and hey, I ate it up anyway. I decided a long time ago that I was gonna make it big, make it far in the business and hell, we all gotta start somewhere.

My somewhere just happened to be in this smelly gym, sweating for hours on end against a guy who totally has cigarette breath.

This is my story. I dropped by the local department store to go get a notebook so I can write and document my little journey in – so I can, in the future, look back through pages and ink and see how I’ve evolved over the years. Or devolved. Either way, it would be nice to make my own little history. I’m just that kind of guy. Nostalgic. Cheesy. Can you blame me? I’m a woman’s man.

So anyway. Yeah. Hours spent sparring inside the ropes. Hours spent bumping and lifting and crashing and burning. I think we practiced every trick in the book that day. Pack up the bags and take a shower and go to bed, for tomorrow we go through all of it again. I guess these are but the start of the dues we have to pay.

Guess it’s running a little late. My little history project is done for the night. It can wait for tomorrow. Or at least when I decide to update it. For now, gotta sleep.

*****

April 21, 2009

Wow, can’t believe I left you for almost two weeks. Sorry, little journal, it’s been a busy ten days. Priesty has me running even more drills and sparring even longer hours, so when I come home all I do is flop on the bed. Lucky I don’t pass out on my doorway or something every night, that’ll be a sight for the neighbors next morning. “Look at Jimmy, all passed out in front of his door! Little bastard musta been drinkin’ all night!” Yep, I can hear it now. Luckily poor ol’ Jimmy still has enough in the tank to make it to my soft, soft mattress.

So what’s new? What’s new in the journey to pro wrestling superstardom? Quite different from the amateurs and the Olympics, must say. But I know damn sure that it’s surely gonna be a hell of a lot more fun than trying to make weight and lifting around stinky Russian dudes.

Priesty told me today that he just got signed to All Out Wrestling. Sure, it’s not as famous as FMW or LPW, but it’s a start. It’s also a fledgling little fed so no one really has any upper hand against each other. Good for him, good for them. Although, just for security’s sake, maybe I’d like to start there too, so at least Priesty could show me the ropes working for the REAL thing and not just some graduation card that I’m gonna get after I’m done with training in his gym, which is hopefully soon enough. Bastard keeps being a tease about it, too.

If you’re wondering why I have the energy to even scribble furiously on you, o little journal made of paper, it’s because we got a day off from training. I tell ya, I practically live in that moldy old gym, sometimes I wonder why I even walk home when I could pull up a sleeping bag and sleep on the gym’s floor. Not.

Ain’t sleeping in that cockroach-infested wood, I’m gonna go sleep in the ring. Yes, the sweat-drenched, bloodstained, stanky wrestling ring.

Wonder what I am to do with these little papers? Turn ‘em into some memoir when I retire after a gajillion years? That’s considering if I even make it in one of the big leagues. Oh, well. I hope this remains an interesting read many years in the future. Good night, little one.

*****

April 29, 2009

Look at that, it’s only been a week. It’s a little after midnight, just doing this before I retire for the day.

Priest went to bat to try and get AOW to sign me up. He tells me that since they’re just a new fed, they shouldn’t be discriminating – plus the fact that I look totally dominating in the ring due to my size and collegiate wrestling experience is enough to hide my greenhorn-ness. I should do fine, he says. They need guys.

Like I said, people need to start somewhere. If I get to play for AOW, I’ll be glad that my “somewhere” is gonna be moved to an actual wrestling ring in an actual indy show. That is. I don’t even know yet how I’m gonna train if I do start wrestling for AOW. Will I be considered a graduate? Will my training be over? Hell, with the hours I put in in the ring anyway, I feel like I’ve been doing this for five years now. Well, then again, I have been wrestling for half my life already.

I think I’ll be teaming with Priesty if AOW signs me up. Dunno. Could work, if he wants to keep an eye on me or something.

Write you later.

*****

May 5, 2009

Well, hello there little diary.

Anyway, it’s official. AOW is interested in me. I was expecting some sort of tryouts for this thing but I suppose small, upstart wrestling federations can’t afford the luxury of being nitpicky about their talent. I don’t know when I’m going to sign some sort of contract or some shit either. I haven’t really talked to anyone behind the scenes of it, it’s all just Priest doing the communication and shit.

Other than that, same ol’ same ol’. Nothing different from what I’ve already written down here days before. Don’t worry, boring little life will start to change soon, I suppose whether or not the whole AOW thing holds up or not.

Write you later, little paper.

*****

May 11, 2009

Quite the week that’s happened. Priest takes me to see them AOW people, and they’re a sure uptight bunch. Their “GM: looks like a retard dickwad but who am I to complain, right? I’m just the rookie here. I should be glad somebody’s signing my paychecks, right?

Anyway, they promised they’d put Priest and I on their first card, which is supposed to run soon, they say. Nothing’s finalized as they’re still trying to look for new recruits. Wonder how that’s going. How many people does it really take to run a fed, anyway? Guess I should just sleep easy for finally having a job.

Will keep you updated on this whole AOW thing. Finally we’re getting somewhere. Write you later.

*****

May 16, 2009

Fuck it! Fuck fuck fuck it! Priest and I just got the card for 1.1 and I’m not on it! Little fucks, I thought they needed more guys? Why is James Thunder not on this card, then? What, are they trying to screw me around? How am I gonna get paid if I don’t even work the show? Damn! What am I gonna do?

This is gay. Absolutely gay. You don’t promise somebody something that you’re gonna not follow up on in the future.

Well, I did say things will start to get interesting, right? They will be. Something’s cooking up in my head, oh damn right there is. AOW won’t be the same after I get through with it.

What is this plan, you ask? Well, you’re gonna have to find out for yourself. It’s still in the forming stages, you know, nothing is finalized. But this ain’t gonna be so hard. I love it when a plan comes together.

Write you later, little paper. Gotta go think up more nicknames and catchphrases. And a bitchin’ debut.

*****

[Savvy]

one upon a time, a lgo time, ago in a ffarn naway kingdom of love, there was xa young adventurer nam,ed nichoalsg ray, who was the greatest thifgn int he kingdom, older then jesus and hdssexier then your face, and one sday the princess of the kingdom was kidnapepedsoltenfucked, and nicholas set out to find bher, as she had the largetst boobs int the hood, and he .desried them to be rapped around his engored membber of holy love, and so he fought spidersm and eventually arrived at the cvastle of the drad king edward, who was forced to suck the might grays cock for eternirty then gray screwed the princess' bumshoole adn her brother at the same time

the end

[Savvy]

nichgolas gray wins ebvetyhing, and your moms

[sineater]

Priest sat in the kitchen of his shitty apartment watching the news on his tiny TV.

Reporter: ....And the death toll here in Iraq has now gone beyond five thousand. Day in and day out we are shipping our young soldiers home to be laid to rest. With no clear end in site this reporter must ask...how many more of our young people do we need to lose?

Priest angrily threw his remote at the television and broke the screen.

Priest: That bitch just doesn't get it. Some people never will I guess.

He looked at his wall where a picture of his late brother hung. He thought about that day a year ago and remembered the promise he made to his brother.

Priest: For both of us.

He heard a knock on his door and he went to answer it. He opened the door slightly, chain lock still in place. In the hallway stood Leona, his landlady.

Leona: Rent was due two weeks ago Mullen. If I don’t have it by five you are out of here. No games this time.

Priest: Sure Leona. I am real sorry. You will have your money in the by five tonight.

Leona: Good. Get this place cleaned up. It smells like a rats asshole.

Priest: Whatever you say Leona.

Priest closed the door and began cleaning the mess he had made. Cigarette buts were scattered on the floor. Dishes and newspaper covered the holes that the cigarettes had left on the carpet. Priest looked around his home and took in his situation. Priest shook his head and reached for the phone.

James: Hey Priest don’t tell me I missed a session. I thought we had the day off today?

Priest: Yeah kid we did have the day off but now I need a favor.

James: Sure boss man what’s up?

Priest: I had a long night last night.Went and tilted a few back after we got done at the gym. Left my truck sitting there. Think you can get it and bring it to me?

James: Sure man no problem give me about 10 minutes to shower and I will be on my way.

Priest: Thanks man I appreciate it. One more thing though. In side the gym are a bunch of empty brown boxes. Bring those along.

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

5:04pm PST

Leona climbed out of her car and trudged to the door of the apartments. She wore a big smile on her face for the first time in seemingly forever. Bingo had been good to her on this day. Armed with an extra thousand dollars she climbed the stairs to tell Mullen the good news and explain that she was going to give him a pass on this months rent. Good deeds beget other good deeds is the saying. Leona reached his door and knocked thrice. Upon the third knock the door pushed open. Unable to restrain her curiosity she nudged into the apartment. The apartment was stark. No furniture, no belongings and certainly no Priest Mullen. Leona became infuriated.

Leona: That son of a bitch!

Then Leona looked at the counter and noticed an envelope. It was addressed to her so she opened it.


Dear Leona,

Believe me when I say that if I had a choice I never would have done this. I have fallen on hard times and I promise at some point I will repay you. After my brother died I was just lost. You were kind enough to take me in and I cannot tell you how much gratitude I owe you. Enclosed is two hundred dollars toward what I owe you.

Best wishes,

Priest.


Leona looked out the window in just enough time to notice Mullens truck peel out of the parking lot.

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


As Priest and Thunder drove away all James could do was laugh.

James: Holy shit man. She almost caught us.

Priest: None of that is funny. I just bailed out on a woman who was probably relying on the money I provide to support herself.

James: You’re right. It was a pretty fucked up thing to do.

Priest: I will have to pay her back with interest. Poor woman deserves better then that.

Priest pulled into the lot of the gym.

Priest: Help me move my shit in if you don’t mind.

James: actually man I need to take off. See you at the show tomorrow?

Priest: Sure man. I appreciate the help.

James: Anytime.

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


Priest had finished unpacking his belongings into the small cramped office in the gym so he began to let himself relax. God I wish Bishop was here right now, he thought to himself. He reached for his brothers picture but it was no where to be found. He ripped the room apart and he just couldn’t find it. He picked up his phone and called James.

James: Hello?

Priest: You didn’t grab my brothers picture?

James: Priest what time is it man I was sleeping.

Priest looked at the clock. 3:34 AM.

Priest: Shit James I am sorry I didn’t realize it was this late. I will just have to run back to the apartment.

James: Okay. See you tomorrow.

Priest hung up the phone and grabbed his keys.

He went outside, jumped in his truck and went in search of his brother.

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


Priest parked a block away from the apartments and headed the rest of the way on foot. As he approached he could hear Leona watching her soap operas. He shook his head as he opened the door and climbed the stairs as quietly as possible. Luckily she had not changed the locks yet so he entered his former abode and went straight to the wall where the picture should have been hanging. He looked at the well worn spot where the picture was sat and began to perspire. He looked around the apartment as quietly as possible until he found the picture. It was sitting in a trash can in the kitchen. The glass that once held it was shattered and there where tiny holes in the picture. Priest didn't care though. His brother was back with him.

Priest: For both of us bro.