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Duke vs. Mike Harrison vs. Bryant the Impaler; Dark Match
Topic Started: Mar 11 2010, 12:11 PM (223 Views)
Kassie Khane
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Admin and Second in Command of the Nation of Moderation
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Duke vs. Mike Harrison vs. Bryant the Impaler
Dark Match

Deadline: Noon EST Tuesday, March 16, 2010
RP Limit: 2 RP per person, per match
~~Good Luck to Everyone!~~
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Mike Harrison
The Lionheart
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[align=center]You’re crazy going back![/align]
It was a typical day in Malibu. The sun was shining, the weather was warm, there was a nice gentle breeze, and not a single cloud in the sky. It was a perfect day in paradise. This was one of a number of reasons why Mike loved living in Malibu, in his beach house. He had a great view of the ocean and beach, and the latter was great in volley ball season!

The lifestyle he had chosen in Malibu fit him perfectly. He loved living by the sea. It was something about the sea air that made him feel alive. He hated living in the big city. He had lived in Toronto and hated it. He hated being surrounded by high rise buildings. He hated being stuck in the middle of tons of people, with no real place for escape. He felt trapped. He felt suffocated. And he had to get out of that place and back where he belonged, or least, where he felt most comfortable. He had, after all, been brought up in Blackpool, England. He had been accustomed to going down to the beach and playing there with his friends. In his later years, he had grown accustomed to running up and down the beach as part of his training. And although he loved his past and his hometown, Malibu beat it hands down.

Today he was merely using the lovely weather to help top up his tan. He had spent since New Year in England, and unfortunately, the coldest winter in recent times had led to him becoming paler than he was used to. He hated looking pale, although his natural skin colour was tanned, it was a lighter shade than he liked. He liked the Californian tan. That to him looked natural. In his past he had used sun beds and fake tan to achieve the desired look through winter. But these days, living in Malibu, he tended to be able to avoid using them, even in winter the temperature on average stayed at a bearable ten degrees Celsius. Nice enough to keep up the tan Mike liked. Right now he was spending his day off topping up his tan and thinking about what was going to come in a few short days.

It had been a long while since he had last wrestled. The last time was for Majestic Wrestling in Las Vegas, in the latter end of last year. He couldn’t remember his last match; he didn’t know his opponent, what the result was, or what happened full stop. That was no final match in his eyes, for him his final match had to be memorable, and likewise, so did his final run. Majestic’s fall had meant he could not continue his rise up to the level he wanted. In his last run he had established a reputation as being one of Majestic’s star attractions and major players. Many people had tipped him for the top title at some point in the near future; it was a question of when not if. For Mike, he knew that Majestic’s closure had meant he could not end his career the way he wanted. He wanted one last run at the top, one where he could face all the top stars and having excellent matches and feuds. It wasn’t about the titles or the money. It was about the experience. It was about having an end to his career that he thought was fitting, and most importantly, that he could be remembered for and that he could tell his children and grandchildren about. Majestic had failed to allow him to do this, and for the past few months he had spent it in exile. He didn’t know where to go, or what to do. But SCW’s approach had solved this for him.

As he rolled onto his stomach he couldn’t help but feel he had joined a great company. The SCW had been long established as one of the premier companies in the world. There were many top stars that graced their ring; some he had heard of, others that he hadn’t. Nevertheless, they were the men and women he wanted to face, and the men and women he wanted to become a member of. He knew, though, that to get there would take many months if not years of work. But he was still young at thirty one years old. He had many years ahead. And he was going to spend that fighting his way to the top, and creating the legacy he knew he was worthy of achieving and leaving.

The sliding door out onto the deck opened. Onto the deck walked Mike’s wife, Emily. He hadn’t noticed her. He was lying face down on the wooden bench, contemplating what he had just done in accepting SCW’s offer. He had retired for like the third time since Majestic closed. But a return had been offered, and although one of Mike’s strong points was his strong willpower; when it came to wrestling that ceased to be. He could never turn down one more match, just like a rocker cannot turn down one more gig. The business ran through his veins. It was that adrenaline rush that he lived for, and he couldn’t get it anywhere else. Well, perhaps if he robbed a bank, but he was too pretty for prison!

“So, when were you going to tell me about this?” she asked as she tapped him on the back.

Mike looked up and saw a piece of white paper in her hand. “You really are going to have to be specific. I mean, that is a piece of paper.”

“Don’t play dumb with me. You know exactly what I am talking about.”

“Ok, I ordered that porn movie by mistake, and my magazine subscription ended last month.”

She glared at him, she hated him watching porn and reading those magazines. “This isn’t a time for joking around. If you think I didn’t know about your stash you are wrong. Wives know about those kinds of things you know. Just like I know where you keep your spare cash.”

“I wondered where my last few bucks went, bastard.”

“Watch your language,” she warned. “Now come on, tell me about this wrestling return of yours that you have accepted. The one you didn’t even mention to me or talk to me about.”

“I didn’t want to worry you about it. I was going to tell you when the time was right.”

“When was that going to be sunshine?”

Mike waved his finger, “don’t use that. That is my line. I have it trademarked.”

“No, what you have trademarked is the phrase; choke on that sunshine for those t-shirts you sell via your website. Sunshine isn’t trademarked.”

“Ok, I was going to tell you in a day or two. I had to come up with the right argument. I mean, I couldn’t just say I am returning to wrestling because you would eat me alive for that. I needed to come up with a good reason. I couldn’t say money because we aren’t short of it. I couldn’t say success or unfinished business, because you wouldn’t understand that. I needed a proper reason and I hadn’t thought of one.”

She smirked, knowing she had won this round. She knew Mike had no reason he could give right now for his return. She didn’t want him wrestling anymore. “So, try and explain.”

“I just miss the rush. I miss the business. I miss the bros and hoes.”

“Hoes?” she replied raising an eyebrow whilst placing her hand on her hip.

“I didn’t mean the last one. I meant the ladies in the back,” he paused uneasily knowing he had dug himself a hole he couldn’t get out of. “Look, I wanted to go back because I wanted to. You have your teaching job. That is what you love. Wrestling is what I love, and that is why I am going back whether you like it or not.”

She shook her head in disappointment. She had always thought that Mike was a man of his word, and that she could trust him not to go back on it. But this time he had let her down, and it was the first time in their life he had done that. “You know Mike; I have always been there to support you no matter what you have wanted to do. I came over to Canada with you, and I had to give up a great job in a great school. Then we were settled in Canada and you wanted to move to America to join another company. What did I do, Mike?” She looked at him, her eyes revealing her love for him, but at the same time concern for his decision to return to the ring. “I came to America with you. We sold up and moved here and we have been happy ever since. When you joined that American company you gave it a good go, won a title, and then left. You went back into retirement, and then, I supported you when you came back out of retirement when you joined Majestic. Do you remember what you said to me when you did that?”

Mike shrugged and mumbled something under his breath.

“Sorry, I didn’t catch that. Say it a bit louder?” she chastised.

“I said that was my last run,” Mike replied with a sign of defeat in his voice.

“That you did. You said that Majestic was your last run. You’re crazy going back!” she shouted as she stood up in a huff. “You are fucking stupid if you go back. Remember what happened the last time you got in the ring with that Duke bloke? You got thrown around the ring. You got busted wide open. You received four cracked ribs. You even dislocated your shoulder. And that is without me going through any of the other hardships you have had. You cannot deny that you have had the shit kicked out of you at times. You cannot deny that you have had injuries that have affected our lives. Do you honestly know what it does to me every time I have to watch you in the ring? Do you know what thoughts go through my mind?”

Once again Mike shrugged and mumbled something under his breath. This time, though, she slapped him. Mike, unlike weaker men, did not react in anger; he simply accepted that he deserved it.

“I go through hell every time you get in that ring. I worry that one day the worst will happen and you won’t be walking through that door.” A tear rolled down her cheek. Mike noticing stood up and put his arm around her comforting her best he could. “I don’t want that to happen. You aren’t a big guy. Those guys are bigger than you. They are more vicious than you. Sooner or later one of them will snap and hurt you, and at that time you won’t be able to fight back.”

“Believe me; that will never happen.”

“You don’t know that, hell, you can’t say that. That Duke is six foot eight, a good foot bigger than you. You are what? Two-twenty pounds and he is a good hundred plus pounds heavier than you. He is stronger than you. He is more brutal than you.”

“I won’t let him hurt me,” Mike said trying to throw her fears out of the window. “I have beaten guys bigger than me before. You know the saying, the bigger they are the harder they fall? It is true Emily. Sure, most guys who face me are bigger. But my whole career I have dealt with that because I am one of the best technical wrestlers in the world. I can counter their height, weight and strength advantage with my skill. Most guys of that size cannot match my skill. So you don’t have to worry about me.”

Emily looked him in the eyes and kissed him, “I hope you are right. Remember, even if you don’t think about leaving me, remember you are a father.” She turned and walked away leaving him stood on the deck alone. That comment really hit home to him. He was a father and a husband first, and a wrestler second. But he knew deep down that he could not stay away from the ring forever. This was his passion. It was what he was born to do. It was what he lived for. Nothing could ever replace wrestling in his life, job-wise. But right now he knew what had to be done. He had to go out there and win, proving not only to the company that he had what it takes, but more importantly to his wife that he had what it takes without getting hurt.

That was clearly going to be the hardest thing for him to achieve, because making her believe that he wouldn’t get hurt was not even possible. He knew there were going to be times were he would be beaten down, were he would bleed, and were he would be hurting for days and weeks afterwards. But that was all in the name of competition, all in the name of wrestling, and although he knew that... she did not. She thought it was brutal; she thought it went too far; and at times, she was right. But he would never admit that. He hated her winning those arguments. So he would battle to prove her wrong, and that he knew would be the hardest fight of his life.

[align=center]I must be crazy...[/align]
Debuts are a hard thing. For me, they are harder than any other match in your whole career. I know that seems hard to believe. But when you fight for a title or against someone to whom you hold a grudge again; you know what to do, and you know what to say. You have no problem because you have the experience to draw on. But when you make your debut you do not know what to do or say. There are times when you have never heard of your opponent, and equally, there are times when you don’t know what people want to see. So it is difficult, but I guess, they are also simple beasts as well.

I have made many debuts in my time, and on each occasion I have tried to resist from falling into the same old trap. I won’t stand here and proclaim to be the best wrestler. I won’t stand here and make grand predictions of a bright new future, where I will hold many titles and gain a place in the hall of fame. I am not one of those men. Now granted, I want to be a success, but I won’t make grand predictions. Instead, I will allow my actions to do the talking because that separates the men from the boys. All too often do people talk the talk but not walk the walk. Luckily I can do both.

So what do I have to say right now?

I guess I must start by saying that I know of one of my opponents. Yes, I have faced one of them before and his name is Duke. Now let us get the basics out of the way. You are taller than me, you are stronger than me, and you are heavier than me. Oh, and you beat me last time we faced off in a collar and strap match if my memory serves me well. Now isn’t that an interesting twist here?

I wonder if the management knew we had a past together when they booked us to face off against each other, though admittedly it is a three way match, but it is interesting nonetheless. We have a past. We have something that most debutants do not have, i.e. the experience to draw upon so our words are not simply regurgitated trash talk about what our ambitions are. Instead, our words mean something. There is going to be a back and forth debate over who is the better wrestler and most likely person to dominate the match.

Now before you come out and say it. Yes, I know how big you are and what you did the last time we faced off. But let me just tell you this, there is a difference between facing off in an extreme match like a collar match, and facing off in a normal match. In our last encounter I was bound to you by a collar and a chain. I could not use my skills to my advantage. It was not a fair match up. It was biased heavily in your favour, and everyone knows that your group had your hand in the owner’s back pocket!

That match was perfect for you. You could capitalise on your strength, your weight, and your vicious temper to throw me around and beat me up. You could do anything you wanted because when I tried to go up top, you pulled me back down; when I tried to run and use the ropes, you pulled me back down; when I tried to pick up the pace, you slowed it back down. I don’t think I need to go on anymore by explaining how that match weighed heavily in your favour, but this time, the odds are not in your favour because this time it is a level playing field.

Now granted, your size does not go away despite the change in circumstances. But on this occasion I am not bound to you in any way, shape, or form. I can use my superior technical wrestling ability to outwrestle you, to take you down, and make you hurt in ways you cannot comprehend. I can take to the top turnbuckle or use the ropes in my high flying onslaught to knock you off your feet. I can use my speed, cunning and experience to compete at a pace that suits me and not you. I can run where I want. I can run up what I want. I can attack what I want. And I can do whatever I want. As the saying goes, you cannot hit what you cannot catch, and sunshine, you cannot and will not catch me.

Now Bryant, do not think I have forgotten about you. Do not think for one minute that this match is about me and Duke settling an old score. Oh no. It is far from that. This match is about making an impact and I know that you, like Duke and I, want to do. It is about making the right impression. There is no doubt that any of us will do whatever it takes to win. I am sure that any of us will sacrifice anything to get the win that we want, because if there is one thing that the management like it is winners. They don’t give opportunities to losers, and they certainly rarely give second chances as good as the one we have this week. I guess this isn’t make or break, but a win will certainly put you on the right track. A win can be the difference between being considered a contender for matches higher up the card, or simply holding it up. I don’t intend to stay at this level, and beating you two can help me achieve those bigger and bolder ambitions of mine.

But right now people will not back me to win this week. They will see two giants and one little man and will rule me out. They will doubt me. But those people are foolish. I am not an inexperienced little runt. I have seen and heard it all before. I have been in these situations before and come out on top. I have no problem beating men bigger than me. Hell, look at me, i generally face the average sized guys and they are bigger than me. So this is nothing new, it is just another day at the office.

However, in this case I am facing one guy who is a moron, and no I am not just using an old insult, Duke is in fact a moron; and then the other man is a raw rookie. Man, you really have put yourself in a sticky situation. You are facing a psychopath and an experienced wrestler. That is a problematic combination for you to face in what is arguably the biggest match of your short career. The odds are stacked against you. The pressure has just risen dramatically. Chances are going to be few and far between in this match, and the question is, who is going to take that one chance to seal the victory. Is it going to be the raw rookie, the psychopath, or the experience all round wrestler?

I know who I would back right now. I am in no doubt that I can win this match. I feel confident because rookies make mistakes and fail to capitalise on their opponent’s mistakes. They feel the pressure and can be easily broken when you know how to. The other man cannot control his actions and temper. He will make mistakes in a match where he cannot use weapons and violence, the things he relies on most. Fact is I am facing two men who will make mistakes and I am confident that I will take one. I have built a reputation on taking my chances when they present themselves. I have been wrestling since I was twenty-one years old. I have been a pro for ten years now. I have faced the best and competed with them. So this debut does not scare me, nor does it intimidate me. It simply makes me more focused and more intent on beating you two, making the right impression, and moving onto bigger and better things.

By no means will this be an easy task. I have two big wrestlers to takedown. But believe me, I can, and I will, take you two down... one way, or another.

See you soon.
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Duke
Newbie
[ * ]
When life hits you, it hits you hard. It was around this time that he was going to be in a big match against some high-carder named Acid Burn, which he was sure he was going to dominate, just like the rest of them, but alas, the federation he was in suddenly shut its doors, leaving an angry giant without a job. However, the boss of the industry had given people another place to go to, known as Supreme Championship Wrestling. When it all seemed like Duke had failed, another door opened for him, but that’s how it was for the big man since he met up with his great Emperor. The giant was training in some generic gym, wearing simple workout gear, black tank top with black sweats, boxing gloves, and tape wrapped on his feet. At the moment he was striking a large punching bag with as much force as he could, trying to release the frustration that had built up in him. He was going to be the biggest thing in Caustic Wrestling, he was about to decimate one of the toughest competitors in wrestling history, but then this happens, he’s now back to square one, no title around his waist, no knowing who the competition was, just back to the bottom of the ladder. It infuriated him deeply, and he needed to let out the bottled rage, pounding away at the think leather padded bag. His eyes showed all his focus, staring hard at the bag he was attempting to destroy, pummeling in the padding with hard blows, causing dents in the lining with each strike. From the sound the bag was making, several people began to watch as he let loose. People had just gathered around the large training mat the guy was on as the big bag began to look like it was wearing down with each combination. One of the bystanders was talking with a few of his friends, impressed to see the power Duke was showing.

[coloe=red]Bystander1: Geez, look at this guy go! He’s been at that thing for like twenty minutes now![/color]

Bystander2: If only you saw him earlier!

The guy was surprised looking over to his left side to find a shorter guy standing there, staring at the big man with a smirk on his face. The guy was wearing a black and red oriental shirt with black jeans and shoes. His hair seemed to be held up in a strange looking clip, making his head look more like a turnip.

Bystander2: He has been working out all day. Weight lifting, target pads, carrying a large sandbag on his shoulder as he does his marching exercises. You know, the basics.

The first on-looker seemed surprised to hear that this colossal man was doing that much. Usually a guy like this would be gassed out from a workout like that, but no, he seemed to be doing alright, albeit with a coat of sweat, but he was performing quite well.

Bystander2: Yeah, this guy has what it takes to be a real monster. Strength, dominance, merciless, sadistic, unstoppable. Yes, these are a few choice words I have to describe this guy.

The first bystander looked suspiciously at the eccentric looking guy, obviously knowing something was up if that kind of description with watching someone for only an hour or two.

Bystander1: Okay, who are you? What, are you stalking this guy or are you just here to start some scam?

The man with the oriental shirt looked appalled, almost insulted by the statement, which soon changed into one of irritation.

Bystander2: If you must know, you pathetic lemming, I’m this guy’s manager.

The guy looked shocked at first looking form the big guy who was beginning to wear down a spot of that padded bag, then back to the smaller guy, and just smirked amusingly at him.

Bystander1: Yeah, like I’ll believe that. You‘re just some joker trying to maker yourself look important! Why would a big guy like that need a short shit like you?

The eccentric man squinted his eyes, looking a bit angry at the jockish comments.

Bystander2: Don’t make me angry, you wouldn’t like me when I’m angry…

Bystander1: Oh wow, he does Hulk references! Well if you’re so tough, why don’t you do something about it?

The shorter guy began staring down the taller athletic his frown turning to a smirk.

Bystander2: Gladly…Duke!

The athlete turned to see Duke, who turned towards the off looking guy, a look of irritation on his face as he looked at the smaller man and the slightly taller guy. Duke raised and eye brow and looked back to the shorter bystander, who motioned towards the other guy. Everyone around them began to back up as Duke approached, throwing his gloves down as he made a warpath towards the both of them, obviously not in the mood for bullshit by anyone, much less these two. The first bystander looked intimidated as he stared up about another eight inches, and Duke stared down at the other man, who was looking up around fourteen inches.

Bystander2: This guy needs to learn respect, Duke. Why not make him learn some?

Duke nodded, then in a flash of a second, shot his forehead right at the bridge of the other man’s nose, causing the victim to drop in pain, as blood began coming out of his nostrils, his nose now bent in an odd angle. He let out a scream of pain, while Duke and the other man just stood over him, Duke’s expression being indifferent while the other man had an arrogance about him. The guy on the ground stifled a moan of pain, trying to speak through.

Bystander1: God damnit! What the hell did you do?

Bystander2: I believe you wee just head-butted, guy. Let that be a lesson to ya, from SCW’s new genius, Dax McNeil. But everyone calls me Dax, and if you know better, you’ll do the same, little worm.

The eccentric bystander, now with his identity revealed to be Dax looked around at the rest of the crowd that formed up and his frown reappeared. Duke looked around as well, but his glare didn’t really change from the start.

Dax: and for any of you other fools, if you dare try something, or say something stupid like this helpless fool, well then Duke will just have to make an example out of you, like he’ll make an example out of that punching bag that he wore down.

Duke looked over to the bag and stalked towards it, the onlookers completely speechless as they saw Duke grab a hold of what appeared to be a now loose seam on the bag, obviously where the leather was connected. He clenched both sides of it with his hands, then began pulling away. The tough leather was showing resistance, Duke having a lot of trouble at first, but after ten seconds, the entire bag slowly tore in half. The stuffing of the now destroyed bag began to fall out, ending with a silent plop on the mat as Duke turned to the people watching, popping his neck a couple times and stretching his arms some. Dax chuckled as the crowd began to move away, obviously not wanting anything to do with the infamous duo.

Dax: Hope you all know never to mess with us now! He’ll make you regret it if you try!

-----

Out in the dead of night in some park appeared to be a rally of sorts. Many people, mostly wearing black and red camo-gear were in front of a large black stage, which had a light set in front of it to make everything visible, and two large banners on each side of the stage. For the people who did know this banner of a red Fist of Defiance with a buzz-saw blade connected to the bottom of it, would know that it belonged to an organization of mass power and dominance. This group of rebellious people are known as The Nü-Empire, and are known for the chaos and discord they brought with them, destroying those who they think are corrupt or impure of the way to The Greater Good. This rally was different however from the usual ones. While their Emperor, Tyler Havoc, would be standing on this stage usually, instead they had two others that would be leading the rally tonight. Two people that have been there since day one, and have brought glory back with them several times now. They were stepping on the stage, along with a follower, who had a mic in his hand.

Follower: All of you freedom fighters and renegades, put your fucking fists in the air. We are here with two very important people for the cause! The Advisor of The Nü-Empire, and the official speaker for The Beast of Burden, with The Beast of Burden himself, The Silent Destroyer, The Soothsayer, and the Enforcer of The Nü-Empire... Dax, and our Emperor’s Champion, Duke!

The small crowd cheered for their higher-ups who would follow them into battle with the rest of the world, some of them raising their right hands with the fist of defiance as their salute, showing their support for these two. The follower handed the mic to Dax, who seemed to be holding a folding under his left arm, was wearing the oriental outfit from earlier that day while Duke was wearing an all black business suit with black leather gloves and black shades. After Dax looked around the people in attendance a few times, a grin on his face as he saw the dozens of followers that showed up for the rally. He lifted the mic, ready to voice his opinions.

Dax: I hope a few of you out there brought your cameras. I wanna see some bootlegs of this on youtube when I get home. Anyways, only just around a month ago, Duke and I were ordered to begin spreading the hostile takeover, by our great leader, Tyler Havoc. And we were doing just that at the budding Federation, Caustic Wrestling. Sadly, just as soon as we got there and right after Duke won his first singles title, the place needed to be shut down. Apparently, Kivisto had some trouble keeping the business under control.

The followers booed their dislike of what happened that kept Duke and Dax from spreading The Greater Good, Dax nodding his agreement before continuing.

Dax: But inside our Dark Cloud, Kivisto has given us a silver lining! As a fallback method, she has given all of the roster a chance to join another Federation, this…Supreme Championship Wrestling…

Cheers began to fill the air, with chants of SCW following. Dax chuckled some at the energy his people were showing.

Dax: Kivisto, maybe in another life, you’d be working side by side with The Nü-Empire, but digress, we have some important news. This coming SCW show, Breakdown, will be Duke’s first match there, albeit a Dark Match, getting back to the bottom of the ladder, but a match none the less. And in my hand…

Dax paused, lifting the folder with in his left arm.

Dax: Are Duke’s opponents. So, why don’t we begin looking through who the unlucky victims are.

Dax handed the folder to Duke, who began to skim through a few papers. Pulling out one revealed a picture of Bryant the Impaler, his name on the bottom of it. The crowd was indifferent about it, not really knowing who this guy was or anything. Duke handed Dax the picture, who looked was looking over the basic description, while the big man folded his arms, waiting for Dax‘s response. The manager looked to Duke, then to the picture and shook his head as he turned back to the audience.

Dax: Woo, looks like we got some fresh meat coming to Duke’s yard! Hear that, boy, you’re going to squash a guy in your first match on SCW!

Duke smirked to himself, obviously liking the idea of ripping a new guy to shreds. With his free hand, he scratched his chin obviously contemplating the thought.

Dax: Ah yes, this boy has never felt a fury such as Duke’s. This man has broken people in a matter of minutes. He has dissected the best of the best, hell even became champion in two different Federations now, in only a year. What does this boy think when he has to deal with a stronger, more powerful foe this coming Breakdown? I’ll tell ya what, he’s thinking of getting out of it before he gets seriously hurt! I’m going to give a quick description of Duke and his style, for this new guy. Duke is a three hundred-fifty pound giant, only one inch shorter than his opponent, but also has fifty pounds more muscle than this rookie. Duke will take his victim down by lockdown. He will keep him or her grounded to the mat as he pulverizes said victim like an ice crusher. So Bryant, I’m not going to call you the Impaler, because you haven’t earned an alias in my book, what with no years pro. I just want you to watch and learn as Duke destroys the competition, and maybe, just maybe, you’ll get your chance to join us for the cause! And the other guy, oh it brings back memories.

Dax quickly crumpled up the picture of Bryant, tossing it aside like garbage, as Duke quickly went through the folder again, pulling out a picture of Mike Harrison, which caused a negative reaction to the followers. Duke was snickering to himself as Dax took the picture, spitting on it before continuing with his preaching.

Dax: Hey, it’s the human lawn dart! Where have you been hiding, dude? Under a rock? Hah! I can’t believe a company would take you after your horrible run in the Universal Wrestling Federation! And its obvious you haven’t learned a damn thing since then either, by the way, how’s Manifest Destiny, doing?

Dax began to burst out laughing, Duke snickering to himself, shaking his head in pity for his opponent this coming show. The crowd joined in on the humor, all of them “Who Manifest Destiny?” and laughing along with the eccentric manager.

Dax: And now your coming up with excuses for your match at ShockWave too! Dude, get over yourself! You lost not because you don’t have and power or size, you lost because you have no talent! Did you forget that just a week before that, Duke had lifted you up, and threw you from the ring onto the announcer’s table? Don‘t you realize you‘ll never get any momentum going because you‘re flame is going to get smothered before it even begins to burn? And now you‘re also trying to get the pity card! it’s the same drab ass garbage you’ve been whining about since your time bitching in the Universal Wrestling Federation! “Oh woe is me, I have a family to take care of, but I love to lose in wrestling as well!” Guess what Mr. Garrison, no one gives a damn. Do you realize that many other wrestlers out there are going through your situation as well? Duke‘s wife is expecting a child in a few more months! The Beast of Burden is going to be a father, yet you want it to be all about you! This is why Duke is going to destroy you, because putting you in a title spot would be an injustice to any other hard working wrestler who has a family to take care of. So take your bitch and moan fest, pick your job or your family, and shut the hell up! The Nü-Empire, is coming to eliminate you, and all who are like you, Mike. That is why all peons that cheer for you, all the drones that follow the status quo, will feel our wrath. Prepare for a repeat of ShockWave, Mike. And Bryant, you‘ll be the next example of Duke‘s dominance if you don‘t know what‘s good for you,

Dax quickly tore up the picture of Mike Harrison, tossing the pieces in the air like confetti, dropping his mic and both he and Duke saluted the crowd with their own Fists of Defiance, all of the followers responding with on of their own, as the scene faded to black.
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Lost Cause
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[ * ]
"Bryant The Impaler?"

"Yeah, what do you think?"

"I don't know. Just some name."

"It's bad ass is what you should be thinking you big S.O.B. You're going to be famous."

"Really now? Famous?"

"Hell yeah. I mean, not like Clint Eastwood or Brad Pitt famous, but, you'll be on television in front of millions. Ain't that something?"

"I guess."

"Geez, such a mood killer. This should be the highlight of your life right here. You're a new addition to Supreme Championship Wrestling. You have the potential to be the biggest name in an industry that never filters regardless of hard times with every other business. If you want fame, money, or a job where you get to physically dominate others, you're set. Shit man, you should be set. I think evolution BRED you to be a monster."

How flattering.

He smirked, his eyes glistening as his lips curled up, the left further up then the other. "So I'm Bryant The Impaler. A monster. A freak of nature. A gimmick meant for a brute. Thinking is for tools. I should just hulk up and turn green while screaming incoherently profanities only other half retarded obscenities would understand. Maybe I should just wear a helmet while carrying down a carton of chocolate milk in one hand and an axe in the other."

Yeah man, you killed it. The mood? Done. Dead. Just go get paid. I'm hungry."

We're all hungry, figuratively speaking, and not just for food.

Bryant sighed, drained of energy for the day. He hadn't really been doing anything per say, although they had started trying, but sleep was coming in very small doses. His dreams were haunting him, to the point he took caffeine pills to avoid them. The dreams had no real content, it was the lack of that quality that bothered him. Philosophically he felt it was a sign that his life had no meaning or purpose. He was wasting his time. He knew what he wanted, what he enjoyed, but he'd be damned if he'd actively pursue that and condemn himself to a further empty life of solitude. He wouldn't disclose this to anyone. Not his brother Thomas, his brother Joseph, Joseph's incredibly gullible fiance, or his sister Jody. No one. He was cursed.

His brother Joseph was set to be his 'trainer' to help him get further in his new found career. The first serious job Bryant ever had. In reality Joseph was the most ill equipped man to be given the daunting task. None of the family ever had any real physical training. Bryant's current build came from years of them traveling around the country, doing under the table labor here and there. Evolution had been kind to him, as his muscles developed fast and strong whenever he did tasks requiring their use. He was fast on his feet, but still somewhat lacked the cardio of most trainee pro-wrestlers. He was hired purely on his look and size. He knew it but cared little. He may have made fun of the name he was given, Bryant the Impaler, but he secretly loved it. He would fantasize over what the notoriety could be like for the name. He would physically IMPALE people is what it was suggesting. He had to hide his hard on for several minutes as they made their way jogging up the hill, Joseph already breathing rapidly ten minutes into their work out.

"Next time you can drive.

Joseph let out a deep and desperate sigh while responding with an agitated tone of voice. "What?"

"I'm the one going out in two weeks to face these two 'veterans' of the 'sport', or whatever they're considering this."

"If not a sport then what do you consider it?"

"I don't know, a bad joke? Men running around in spandex each trying to establish the same points that they're all the greatest. the grandest even because thousands of stupid drunks tune in every week to watch them grope and spoon each other. The winner is cherished for a week or until he loses, and then he's nothing. A vicious cycle were few really become household names. What's the total sacrifice asked for in the pursuit of fame on this route? How long must these people bare with the humiliation? Most of society sees them as childish, uneducated. What are we appreciated for? One man can leap up and kick people in the face every week. In essence we're appealing to the bottom of society, who work the shit jobs hating life wishing they could do the same. I personally don't care what the guy at Taco Bell thinks of me. To be famous as you were saying earlier this way is a joke. I'd rather they hate me if I have to be famous this way."

"Just go out there and talk and I think you'll have your wish."

Bryant laughed, Joseph joining in a second later. He was being completely cynical, spiteful on what he was going to be doing. Just like his name though, he secretly loved the idea. Competitive violence was an addiction for some. Bryant viewed it as normal. As they jogged up the hill Bryant thought it was funny they were even there. He was running up that hill because it was set by the standards made for new wrestlers that they should be cardio machines with enough muscle in every limb to incapacitate lesser men. Not because it was actually needed. They weren't playing soccer were competitors ran constantly. This type of wrestling from what Bryant had seen of it required men to have mean lefts and rights with basic to pro level experience in grappling, mixed martial arts, or any other style the competitors may see as resourceful for their skirmish. In Bryant's case as most people could imagine, he would use his size and reach advantage to pummel and throw Mr. Harrison around like a rag doll, where as that wouldn't really work with the just as tall, larger in mass Duke. Harrison was married, a seeming veteran of the sport who had fought his way here.

According to Harrison, he himself had the technical abilities to make a man no matter what their stature crumble. Yes, Mike Harrison's knowledge of how to pull off a wrist lock and maybe lock on an arm bar was going to be all it took to make Bryant fall to his knees and cry for mercy. If rambling on in typical British fashion wasn't going to wear Bryant thin to the point he fell over asleep in the ring, surely his masterful sleeper hold would do the trick. Mike Harrison let you know how he would win. He even let you know what he was fighting for. He was an open book, screw the mystery. Hell, let's not even give the viewing audience a personality one could grow to love or detest. He's simply business with a small touch of douchebaggery, his wit second-rate to all. Perhaps Bryant was being too harsh on one dose of Mc'y Harrison, but that was just a trait Bryant had he himself recognized in himself.

He recognized a lot of things about himself that could be problematic. Did it really bother him? No. It came with knowing he could be more. It was almost like having this knowledge stopped him from doing anything, but following. Not because he couldn't be a leader, simply because without guidance there was no ambition. It was guidance that led him here. While never being particularly driven, Bryant did enjoy proving his superiority, intellectually and physically. It was a problem. Constantly over thinking and over analyzing every fine detail, he could see the character and personality flaws in everyone and everything miles away. It was part of his gift and curse.

In Mike Harrison he saw a man deluding himself. Pride does that. Mike Harrison was using pride to push him forward in a career path he could have stopped in a long time ago. He was living in Malibu for Christ's Sake. Bryant had never been to Malibu in his travels, but after asking a few questions it wasn't hard to piece together the fine details, and how expensive that could be, even for the cheapest homes. A man who has a lot dealing with the finer things in life who then decides to continue working in a line of work that runs them at the risk of injury, short term or permanent, hell, death if they're that unlucky is not thinking in the long term, and short term thinking tends to be motivated by fantasies. What fantasy is he pursuing now if not wealth? Does he want real fame amongst the millions of wrestling fans worldwide? How short sighted. If he was truly smart, and had talent, he could do something worthy of such recognition. He could go cure cancer. Could spark more of an interest in quantum physics.

No. Mike Harrison wants to be known as the man who could pull off a shooting star press.

With that being the case, Bryant couldn't really take him very seriously. Experience wasn't going to stop Bryant from reaching through Mike Harrison's two foot arm span where Bryant would then pop him upside the head hard enough to smash walls and break through inch thick glass. In the time it would take Harrison to try and take him off his feet Bryant would be kicking him through the air. It doesn't really take a genius long to see how locks and maneuvers work, assuming they're not idiots, which Bryant feeling he at the very least, wasn't that. For any lock, there is a way you can reach over and knock the person trying to apply it right out of his game. If nothing else, Bryant felt confident enough to lift the man and toss him off even the weakest of his joints.

Experience is highly overrated. Perception is everything.

Unfortunately there was some clever booking made here as you didn't really have anyone who held an over the top advantage. Mike Harrison had the experience, but he was delusional in assuming that would somehow automatically counteract the huge size advantage of both adversaries with that. He was delusional in also thinking that he could even effectively use his maneuvers. Although he had the muscle mass, more so then Bryant for his size. Bryant was beginning to wonder if he'd be better off hiding under the ring and letting the other two fight it out. He thought it silly but at the same time he had very little to study off of and he didn't give a shit if he was respected or not. A cowardly giant might seem a little too out of place however, and that risked the match ending without him even being a factor at all.

Truthfully he just wanted money, and the more you win/sell/whatever your job is asking of you, the more you'll make in the long run. Granted in wrestling it'd be about accomplishing and selling out arenas. Bryant didn't imagine he'd ever be the charismatic good guy trying to appeal to the working class, and unless the job turned him into a vindictive bastard, he probably wouldn't be attacking those said charismatic good guys to garner much in the form of boos. It was hard to say at this point. Bryant had a pretty warped mind, and he knew it.

Regardless, as much as he wanted to focus on Mike Harrison, he realized there was another involved in the twist. Duke's advantage came from being the biggest in the match, something Bryant wasn't used to not being himself. Duke also happened to have one annoying manager. Whether that would be a factor or not, Bryant cared little. Duke had the appearance, he could have been the head of the Aryan Brotherhood. Bryant doubted that, especially with Duke according to google being Scottish. Unfortunate since it would have been rather entertaining to have that on his mind going into Breakdown. Duke could have considered getting a speech writer, because Mike Harrison had been right on the money with him being every lick of an idiot as far as Bryant was concerned. Looks and even half rambling speeches could be deceiving however, and now Bryant was left unsure of what his strategy if any, he'd be using going into the match.

Maybe that was the advantage Harrison spoke of with experience going into this match, although he doubted it. Blind confidence could be just as problematic as it could be beneficial. Bryant would continue pondering on the topic until the eventful evening of his debut, he knew, and if he liked the experience he may be cursed to thinking on it for years. Time would tell.

In the meantime he enjoyed the conversation he was having with his brother. Joseph had a great sense of humor, even if he wasn't the smartest, he at least didn't annoy Bryant with his ignorance.

"In all seriousness Bryant, you should really look at this opportunity as a chance to really put effort into something worthwhile. It could benefit everyone."

By everyone he meant the family.

"I guess."

"It could. How many jobs are out there where you get to pick on annoying mother fuckers like this? Do you really wanna waste away doing these small time labor jobs? We're already constantly traveling. We're used to it, enjoy it. Hell it's all we've ever done."

"I-"

"You've got your own issues we'll all take care of over time. Just think in the now. You'll get paid at the event, right? How much are you getting again, a thousand bucks for like, ten minutes of work? Fifteen hundred when you're televised? Fuckin' A Bro. Considering it's been me, you, Jody, and Jewels living off of a couple hundred on a good week, you're gonna be the man. We're hungry. Ha ha. Fuck it man, ride this out. Give a damn."

The two of them made it down Crystal Height's. They would have to get back to town and start driving to Phoenix where Breakdown was taking place. The thing with the family was they were drifters, bums, once being mistaken for gypsies who grew up into this lifestyle. Jody had run away from her family when she was thirteen. Joseph's story was almost identical although a lot of details he had never disclosed with them, which was fine. Bryant himself couldn't really remember a life before then. He never cared to. They would work occasionally for small construction crews and temp services but for the most part they traveled, never wanting to settle down. It was an exciting life, a dangerous life. Bryant couldn't figure out why Joseph wanted him to be apart of the wrestling life style, apart from maybe the money and the convenience that they'd still be constantly on the road. Bryant was gifted with the ability to read for them and read well. None of them had any real formal educations. In all actuality, outside of Bryant now, none of the others existed as far as society was concerned, and that had just been fine up til now.

"Can we head to the library before heading down the road?"

"Yeah Big B, whatever you need."

Heading down the road consisted of piling into their van and every hour or so down the road stopping to look for unsuspecting vehicles they could cipher gasoline from and take oil from if canisters were within eye view inside of them. They had parked about a mile up the road at a rest stop, Jody going into town. The other brother, Thomas, wasn't with them anymore although Bryant wished he was. He had been probably the most ambitious of them all, and was a much better conversation then Joseph. Thomas had decided to get big in distributing drugs as well as a few other jobs, but he never told Joseph or Jody, they were all troubled enough. He felt they'd want to be a part of it. Thomas didn't really give a shit about them, maybe Jody. Bryant figured he just didn't see them as feasibly being useful to his operations. Regardless, Bryant wasn't upset at all given the circumstances. They were still free to do whatever they wanted, which made him realize he was a constant walking contradiction. Why did he care when he wanted nothing to begin with? That wasn't really the case, but he tried telling himself that regardless.

Jody's head perked out the passenger door window as they were forty feet from the van. She waved wildly with her one hand while having her head leaning down on the door while at the same time blowing a big bubble of gum up in her mouth. The van itself was a 1990 Chevrolet Astro. Meant they spent a lot of time stealing fuel for it with the poor excuse for a cross country vehicle getting 15 miles per gallon. Regardless Joseph loved it. The van was the only thing he had in his name. Unlike Jody he had waited til he was sixteen before saying to hell with everything and hitting the road. On the eventful day where they all met each other it saved their asses. Now it served as more then just a vehicle. It was their home.

"Hey!!!"

"We're going to head to the library before heading out for the night."

This seemed to annoy her, the impatience she harbored showing as her face dropped and she let out an intentionally massive sigh. "Can't this wait til we get further ahead? I'm sick of this place. It's so hot! I want to bathe!"

Bryant smirked. They 'bathed' in rest rooms, sometimes fountains. Only on the beach or when they occasionally got hotel rooms did they have any real conventional showers.

"You can wait. He just wants to look up more on his opponents."

"Why? Bryan will kill them. What's to worry about?"

She always left the T off of his name. Having to put effort into the T would have pained her considerably. Bryant was thrilled she had such faith in him. Granted she was about as mature as a young child. Physically she was almost a full grown woman, and it was problematic at times. On numerous occasions Bryant was used to scare away scum who wanted more from her then a quick conversation. She flirted constantly which never helped.

"Never hurts to get an idea of what I'm getting myself into."


"Psh. You think too much."

You don't think at all.

He smiled. She rolled her eyes in response. The location was really not to her liking. Joseph opened the driver door and got in, quick to start up the van. Opening the side door Bryant got in and laid back in the center before slamming the door, to the dissatisfaction of Joseph. It was a bad habit of Bryant's. He really didn't know his own strength.

Jody said she was thirsty. Joseph told her to get in line. Jody tells Bryant Joseph is being mean, to kick his ass. Joseph threatens to sell her. They laugh like it's somehow funny. Bryant was managing to block everything out as his eyes wandered around along the frames of the van's door, his mind thinking on what he wanted to do. He was lifting Mike Harrison up and tossing him over the top rope head first. He was delivering a Tombstone Piledriver to Duke in the middle of the ring-

No, not quite. Music began blurring in the ground. Jody was pleading for the station to be changed, she hated country. Joseph was not budging.

And now in his fantasy Bryant was killing the dog that belonged to the singer of this song. He did not care about Blake Shelton's stupid dog named Old Red. He did not care about Blake Shelton. He hoped he had AIDs. Fuck him, and fuck his dog. Fuck the agent who got the song in to be recorded and sold, and fuck the radio stations like this one who readily went about playing it. Fuck the people who like it. The song ended a half minute before and still it ran on in Bryant's head. Just as suddenly as he went from picturing his opponents getting dismantled in the ring to killing Old Red, Blake Shelton's dog, and hating anyone who could ever have ties to his song Bryant was thinking about the color purple and why cars should never be that color. Peering overhead and out the window he sees a purple Ford Focus going in the opposite direction. Joseph is doing his best to ignore Jody mumble on about something stupid. Two other thoughts enter Bryant's mind and he finds himself completely absorbed and focused on them with the other four already being discussed. Insurance. Diseases. The sun and it's effects on his eyes and skin. The color purple.

The Romans were completely against homosexuality, yet it was just fine for men to have sex with boys, or each other. What defined love then? By today's standard, if you ask Cameron Diaz it's by whether or not you swallow the other person's cum. Today in society the Japanese sell used girl's under garments in vending machines and their young kids trade sex depicting cards like we would baseball cards. What is a social code? Really? Society is always wrong. I wonder if we get other colors to view on other planets, or are we limited due to our eyes. I once-


After a while it all becomes one big blurb inside of his head, and he can't interpret any of it.

He just wants to break something.
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