TJ Codair(c) vs Matthew Prince

[PWXonline]

Main Event
Hybrid Championship
TJ Codair(c) vs Matthew Prince

RP Limit: 2 per person

Deadline: 4-15-14 at Midnight CST


Story: Our main event this week features the Hybrid Championship. The last couple weeks, Matthew Prince has made quite an impact in PWX. His debut was definitely a bombshell as he attacked the Hybrid Champion, TJ Codair, after his match. Last week, Codair got the chance to return the favor. With both sides already engaging in violent behaviors against each other, Mr. Hollywood has made it in his best interest to pit TJ and Prince one on one in singles action. The prize? The Hybrid Championship will be up for grabs whoever survives this violent fest. Whoever that may be will certainly deserve to hold that belt if they manage to walk out of that ring without any medical attention! Who can we expect to walk out champion? Can Codair retain and prove that his violence can't be matched with? Or will Prince continue to surprise everyone and walk out with the coveted championship?

[Prince]

Date: April 6th, 20XX 

Location: The Pennsylvania Wilderness 

Time: 0950 Hours

    To say that there is history between the man and Samantha Kasianenko would be like saying the American Government may conduct questionable activities on a daily basis. Despite this, their reunion had occurred without a single bullet being fired. Hell, he was happy he had awoken without a head injury or a hangover. The female did enjoy her vodka, and that was something that Russia still did right despite all the corruption that was running through the former Soviet Union. Packing their gear the following morning while the storm wound down was simple; the two operatives always traveled light when on the run. This allowed for one to bug out rather quickly without having to worry about destroying evidence that could compromise their safety and covers. 

    Two backpacks were sitting upon the floor by the only door to the entire cabin. Matthew was sitting on the edge of the cot with a non-descript tablet held between his beefy paws. He had been conversing with one of over a hundred contacts he had established across North America during his time as a recruit for Division Seven. He had been holding doubts about his betrayal even after his interrogation with Salem. The fact that Samantha had been compromised while on assignment in Russia had only confirmed his worries. The two of them had been burned and the company was looking to wipe them out of the legers and off the books for good. Samantha also had information that the two of them needed to access. Fortunately his false identity he was currently employing gave him the perfect way to rendezvous with one of his computer dweebs in Louisiana. 

    Samantha emerged from the simple bathroom with her crimson locks put up into a messy bun and dressed in a simple civilian ensemble of a black hooded sweatshirt, blue jeans and boots. Prince looks up from the tablet as his eyes narrow a bit upon the woman as she picks up her Beretta M9 and proceeds to check the chamber and inner workings of the semi-automatic. “I still can’t believe you decided to grow your hair back out. You always complained to me that it got in the way during firefights” Prince spoke as Samantha holsters her weapon against the small of her back underneath her loose fitting clothing. “I had to grow it out for my cover during my last assignment. Besides, you weren’t complaining about that last night..” Samantha fired back with a devious smirk plastered across her face. The woman could have easily been a Victoria’s Secret or Hollister model, but fate had seen to sending her down the current path she walked along. 

    “Hey, about last night..” Prince began as the woman spun on the heels of her boots and closed the distance between the two of them. “Hey….don’t even start to apologize for taking advantage of me or anything of that nature. I knew full well what I wanted from you. It was just like that night back in Afghanistan” the femme answered as she came to sit down next to him on the cot in the corner of the living room. “You and I remember Afghanistan quite differently” Prince looks to Samantha as she sits by his side. “Matt….we both know that there is no room for love or romance in our line of work. It serves only as a distraction, and neither of us need that right now with the Division breathing down our necks” Samantha expounds as Matthew nods, standing up to his feet from the cot. “I hope I didn’t hurt you by saying that, but you know it’s the truth…” 

    “I know, Samantha, people like us don’t settle down and start families while killing in the name of their respective countries” Prince answered with a sigh from his lips “but who’s to say what could happen once we tie up all these loose ends?” he asked to her as the tablet was placed into the one of the two secure back packs by the door to the log cabin. “Matthew….tying up loose ends with Division Seven simply doesn’t happen. You and I both know that the company has complete control over the government apparatus. If we even hint at releasing that information to the public….we’ll simply stop existing. How many times have we done such operations in the name of keeping democracy alive and our countries free?” Samantha explained in a pleading tone as she stood up to her feet once more. She approaches the man and places her hands against the small of her back. 

    “Samantha, Salem was just the beginning, and he was just a warning. It’s only a matter of time before they find us, which is why we need to continue to keep on the move. My contact down in Louisiana says he should be able to decrypt the information you have on that USB Drive. If it has anything to do with the Division then we will exploit it to our own needs. I called an old friend from the BUD/s that owns a Cessna Turbo Skylane JTA. For a nominal fee he’s letting me borrow it so the two of us can travel down to Baton Rouge and stay off the grid” Prince explained as Samantha listens intently. Matthew picks up one of the two backpacks and shrugs it over his broad shoulders. He’s clad in simple mountain clothing which will serve to allow the two of them to blend in. “We’ll take my Bronco, it’s about an hour away from here. He’ll keep it hidden while we borrow the plane.” 

    Little more is said for the next half hour as the two individuals finish packing their gear. They also meticulously wipe every surface that has been touched within the cabin for the last forty-eight hours. The two of them are concerned with leaving even a single trace of evidence that could be used by Division Seven in hopes of finding them. The small amount of refuse they created was tossed into the fireplace the night before and burned into microscopic pieces of ash and cinder. With their window beginning to close the two operatives exit the log cabin and come outside to where an early 1990’s Ford Bronco is seen parked in two deep ruts of mud and stone. Tossing their backpacks into the back of the Bronco, Prince is seen checking a rather long, black rectangular box sitting in the bed of the Bronco. Once Samantha is buckled safely into the passenger’s seat, Prince wraps up his inspection of the items in the back of the vehicle and then moves to the driver’s side. Wasting no time in starting the engine and buckling himself in, he eases the vehicle into gear and begins the slow descent from the mountaintop down to the only highway that cuts through this entire region. 

    Meanwhile, a satellite maintaining geosynchronous orbit around the globe comes to rest above North America. Its target is verified through classified means that would make the average American citizen realize just how “free” they actually are. The information is then relayed via an array of dishes spaced specifically around the entire continent. These dishes are tasked with churning in the information into computers who then encrypt the information and forward it to a secure location within the Colorado Rockies. A female engineer clad in a gray Battle Dress Uniform which bears no known insignias prints this information up from her workstation and immediately slides it into a manila envelope. Standing up from her station, she treks across a spacious room that is littered with easily a hundred work stations and operators dissecting similar information from around the entire planet. The femme comes to a door that is connected to a rather large office. She raps three times on the door while clutching the envelop securely in her hands.  

    “Come in” is heard through the heavy wooden door. The female operator opens the door and steps into the office. The room is comfortably and functionally furnished which reflects the mind-set of their current Commander who has seen military service for the last thirty-plus years. “Sir, we’ve determined the location of both Sokaris and Serqet” the female engineer speaks, standing crisply at attention. The large swivel-chair placed behind an even larger mahogany desk spins around to reveal a man in his middle-fifties sporting a fresh high-and-tight and a plain gray t-shirt that adorns a body that has managed to remain in perfect fitness despite the grind of time and atrocities of war. “Thank you, Lieutenant. I’ll make sure he is made aware of it…” comes a gravely, deep voice from the man as he accepts the manila envelope from the woman. As the enginbeer leaves the room and closes the door behind her, the Commander opens the file and smiles. “Son…..it’s time to come home….” The imposing figure spoke to himself as a secure desktop phone was picked up and several digits were inputted into the console. 

Date: April 10th, 20XX 

Location: An undisclosed training facility 

Time: 9000 Hours

    The simple application of pressure against the concrete seemed to be a challenge for the man. Despite aches and pain coursing through every vein and fabric of his body, the man continued to press on. The large and spacious warehouse seemed to be empty spare the man that was currently exercising within the center of the facility. Rivulets of sweat formed upon his pronounced brow and swam down towards his bandaged chest, coming to fall and soak into the worn concrete beneath his body. As the man continue to push himself, a bone-chilling cackle radiates from the rafters and permeates the flesh of the individual currently training within the warehouse.  

    “I watched your match last week….and while I did see raw potential….I’m still fucking disappointed” came that gruff and condescending voice from the darkened rafters of the ceiling of the warehouse. Despite the accusation, the man continues to push against the concrete, lifting his battered body above his wrists and shoulders with each repetition. A grunt of pain escapes from his pale lips as his right shoulders trembles underneath the assault he is imposing against himself. Despite the momentary weakness the man continues on with his punishment.  

    “You should have owned that pathetic piece of shit cockbreath in the middle of the ring, Prince. That kid was nothing more than cannon fodder to you. And, on top of it, you let your guard down and allow Codair to drag your ass around the arena like a limp dog on a motorcycle” the voice continues to assault Matthew as he seems more content to continue his workout regiment. As a circle the size of two watermelons has formed underneath his body, he shifts to stand up to his feet and catch his breath. Nimble digits shift to various parts of his body, adjusting the bandages that are covering his healing wounds.  

    “You just need to fucking shut up, Old Man” Prince speaks up towards the rafters as he moves towards the lounge area within the large warehouse. Reaching into the downtrodden and rusting refrigerator, he produces a bottle of water which is hungrily placed against his lips. Lustily he devours the liquid from the plastic container until his left hand clenches closed and reduces the bottle into a small section of its former self. He tosses the carcass aside and moves over towards a weight lifting bench. Prince brings himself to lay down upon the bench as it appears that over two-hundred and seventy-five pounds have been placed upon the bench. Prince notices this fact and exhales, as his eyes glance up towards the rafters in a plea for solace.   

    “You have to be fucking kidding me…” Matthew speaks as his digits come to wrap around the bar that is supporting the massive weight on the bench presented before him. His orbs slip into focus as his breathing shifts to follow along with each of his repetitions. Despite the obvious soreness that is plaguing his body the man continues to keep pushing through the pain that follows with each push of the weights with his arms. “No, I’m not fucking kidding you, shit-for-brains. Anton Chase was nothing but cannon fodder and you should have schooled him in under five seconds” came the voice that was serving to distract the former soldier. Upon completing his set, he sets the weights back down upon the bench and sits up straight. “Come on, Old Man, I was giving the fans the show they wanted to see…” Prince scoffs at the accusation as he collects his breath.  

    “The fans? You’re worried about what the fans think about you? You’re going to get your ass kicked from one end of the ring to the other if you continue to worry about what the fans think. Distractions like that lead to you getting drug around the arena like a pathetic ragdoll strapped to a motorcycle. If someone had pulled that shit on me back in the day…..I would have their head served to me upon a silver platter” came the voice as Prince stood back up to his feet and adjusted the bandages around his ribcage and right shoulder. “I remember hearing a story about you that involved meathooks…” Prince spoke as a ceramic coffee mug came flying from the rafters and barely misses beaning him in the temple. “Seems I struck a nerve with that one…” 

    “The point being, you snot-nosed cocky bastard, is that you need to step up your game. I’ve seen the competition that the PWX has to offer. The names standing at the top are individuals that will tear you apart limb-from-limb if you continue to enter the ring with blinders on. The purpose is to teach them a lesson in violence. You’re already being given an opportunity only two matches into your wrestling career. A title shot, no matter the prestige or level of the title, is an honor in this business, especially when you’re still a rookie that has to make a name for himself. You want to know what is going to separate you from the majority of the people in that company? Training. Training means knowing where to look and what to do when you see something threatening you. Training means knowing how your opponents plans to defeat you and how you can identify several different avenues to stopping them. Training eventually means pride, because with training comes confidence, which is the sure knowledge that you are the baddest motherfucker in the Valley of the Shadow of Death, and you don’t have to fear any opponent that comes your way. Now, get me another coffee cup before I stick my foot so far up your ass that the water on my knee will quench your thirst” came the voice from above as Prince walks towards the kitchen and turns up another coffee mug. 

“Don’t you worry, Old Man, the PWX has no idea what is just under the horizon….” 

April 11th, 20XX 

Location: Classified 

Time: 1631 Hours

    The cackle of static fills the screen for several seconds. Suddenly, a clear picture comes into view. A simple church located in a working-class neighborhood comes into view. Overcast clouds quench what sunlight that is struggling to reach the ground. A group of children come running by with a dented, empty can of peas being kicked in front of them. Despite the downtrodden appearance of the area, the children appear to be enjoying themselves around the church. It’s simple for one to notice that the location is a safe haven for souls in an otherwise dangerous area. As the children disappear down the street, silence dominates the scene once more. Thunder rumbles in the distance as maple and pine trees sway in anticipation of an upcoming storm. Footsteps echo off the crumbling concrete sidewalk as Matthew Prince comes into view approaching the church. 

    As he comes to a stop in front of a rusted and deformed fence-line, the individual twirls on the heels of his boots and turns to face the church. He is dressed in nondescript civilian clothing that any working-class person could be dressed in. The collar of a plain black dress shirt is upturned and a black baseball cap is snugged tight in order to take attention away from the features of the man’s face. His attention comes to the church as he seems to be immersed in deep contemplation. Finally a hand slips out from one of the pockets of his leather jacket and comes to open the fence. Moving into the perimeter of the church, the fence draws closed as his boots come to rest upon an asphalt path. Cracked and weather wood forms the exterior of the church as the structure is ancient in both construction and design. Approaching the front door, he knocks two times upon it and then follows with a third after a three second pause.  

    “Who goes there?” comes a voice from within the church. “Prince” replies Matthew as he shuffles on the heels of his boots as the adrenaline is pouring through his veins. The door opens and a man in his late fifties appears dressed in the robes of a Pastor. “Matthew….I’ve been expecting you” the man replies as the tone of his voice reflects a man of robust knowledge and experience. There is also a hint of the Old Country accent within the tones of his words. Prince follows the Pastor into the church and pulls the door shut behind him. He takes a moment to look around the interior of the church and whistles quietly. “Father, I first want to thank you for taking the time to see me” Prince goes to speak and is immediately silenced as the Pastor turns and draws his index finger against his lips. He motions over to the confessional booths and steps towards them. Matthew follows in stride as the two men slip into one of the booths and draw the doors closed behind them.  

    “Sorry, Matthew, but I didn’t want the guards hearing our conversation” the Pastor replied. The interior of the church is decorated in rich velvet church benches and tapestries that cover the walls. Guards dressed in custom tailored Armani suits can be seen posted at every entrance and exit to the church while two others are constantly roving around the inner furnishings of the church. The interior decorations of the church are a harsh contrast to the exterior of the building. This design was intentional, as the establishment sought to never draw attention to itself. “I thought that all the guards were briefed on who you are, what you did back in the day, and what you occasionally still do in this day and age” Matthew asked as the claustrophic trappings of the confessional booth were already starting to bother him. Exhaling, he looks over to the Pastor. The man sports slicked-back raven hair, a raven goatee and sapphire hues that seemed capable of cutting the heart out of anybody who sought to oppose him. He folds his hands together and looks towards Prince. 

    “I’ve received information about you a week ago through one of my sources, Matthew. You’ve been burned by the Division, and for what reason, no one seems to know. Soon the entire agency is going to be looking to skin you alive. And you’re working with a Russian on top of it?” the Pastor questions Matthew with a look of disdain in his eyes. “Listen, Father, this isn’t the 1980’s anymore and the Soviet Union collapsed over twenty years ago” Prince replied to the scorn that was thrown his way. “That is true, but what arose from the ashes to take its place is something more dangerous and terrible” the Pastor replied.  

    “Enough of rehashing the past, I need to ask a favor of you, and you still owe me for that situation back in New York City” Prince replies, looking through the iron grates that separate the confessional booth from the Pastor’s booth. The old man takes a deep breath and sinks back into the chair as his eyes narrow upon the younger man sitting across from him. “Twenty years ago I sat in this same booth with the former Father and asked him for a favor. It ended up getting him killed and put me in a hospital bed for close to a year, Matthew” the Father replied. Matthew nods and leans forward so that he can keep his voice low. “I understand the gravity of the situation I find myself in, Father, and I wouldn’t be coming here now if it wasn’t for the danger that is collapsing around me. I need help, I need an infrastructure I can rely on to take this fight to Division 7” Prince pleads to the Father. A long, drawn breath is taken as the Pastor considers the shit that was just dropped upon his doorstep.  

    “The Family has always been here to support you, Matthew. That day when you saved my life, you risked everything. We knew that you were working for the Division as a Spy within the Family, and to be honest, I was going to personally gut you alive for that betrayal. Yet…you killed that entire Wet Work Team that was sent to deliver me to the Agency. I’m beginning to think you sets the wheels in motion for your burning that very day. Because of that, I swear to pledge all the support I can muster to help you bring down that corrupt organization once and for all” the Pastor replies to Matthew with vitriol and emotion coursing from a body that didn’t seem to show the standard frailty and weakness found in most men pushing sixty years of age.  

    “Thank you, Father. I was blind back then, so terribly blind. I thought I was working in the pursuit of justice and freedom within this country. It was almost too late when I realized that the Agency is just one arm of a massive, festering corruption that is engulfing and consuming both this great land and the innocent people that call it home. It took me coming here and seeing the work you and your Family does to realize I was wrong, so very wrong. I owe you my life and I owe you my freedom, and I will always be thankful for that” Matthew replies. The Pastor nods as his left hand reaches into his pocket and produces a secure cellular phone. A long string of digits are punched in as the man awaits for the phone to synchronize with the phone on the other side of the call. 

    “Yes, it’s me. Tell the men that Sokaris has come back to the Family. No, I’m not fucking joking and no, you’re not going to come down here and break his nose. Tell our men down in the District that we’re going to need to begin setting up the ground work for an assault upon the Division. No, I’m not crazy and senility hasn’t set in, yet. Division Seven has burned Sokaris and they are attempting to capture and interrogate him. If that happens his knowledge of our operation and numerous others will become known to the entire American Government. If that happens it will only be a matter of time before they commit wholesale slaughter of us, our families and all of our comrades and business partners. This is the only cellular communication about this situation that I want to occur. All forms of communication regarding this operation will be handled through secure and face-to-face meetings. Is that clear?” the Pastor speaks into his phone and then goes silence for several minutes. “Good” he finishes and then closes the secure phone. 

    “Damn, still rocking the OG flip phones, Father?” Matthew asks as the Pastor takes hold of the phone and snaps it in half. He discards the pieces into a burn bag that has been placed on the floor by his side. “One can never be too careful with communications in our line of work, Matthew. I’d rather waste money on one of those cheap flip ones than one of those portable computers you kids are calling phones these days” the Pastor replies. “So, will you be staying here for a while, or are you going to stay on the move before the Division is able to pinpoint your location?” the Pastor asks as one of the guards from within the church slides open the door and whispers a few words into the ear of the man. 

    “No, I have some other commitments that I need to follow up on within the next couple of days. I’m traveling to Baton Rouge to meet with a contact that is a former NSA Codebreaker. My…..Russian counterpart was also burned by the Division while on assignment in her homeland. During her escape from the country she managed to kill a Division Seven operative that had a highly encrypted USB Flash Drive within his possession. We’re both interested in seeing what kind of information is being held within the drive and I believe my contact within Baton Rouge can crack the code” Matthew explains as the Father stands up abruptly from the chair within the booth and motions for Prince to follow him. The two men exit quickly back into the inner sanctum of the church. “One of our informants spotted a formation of black SUVs about an hour west from here. You need to get moving before they track you down and compromise us all” the Pastor replies as he draws the larger, younger man into his embrace and crushes him with a hug that conveys tremendous strength despite the Father’s peaceful appearance. “As soon as you get to Baton Rouge, get in contact with me. I’ll have one of our safe houses ready for your use, Matthew” the Pastor speaks as the guards open the doors for Prince. 

    “Thank you, Father. I will be in touch” Matthew speaks as he steps outside of the church and looks to the street before him. A black Audi A4 is seen sitting with its engine warming as the wind continues to whip the trees around with the approaching storm. Prince approaches the vehicle and opens the passenger door. As he sits down within the car Samantha can be seen behind the wheel of the vehicle. “Step on it, we have company on our tail” Prince orders and Samantha obliges without hesitation. The wheels of the Audi chew into the pavement of the street as the car takes off down the street like a bullet being shot out of the barrel of a gun.  

Date: April 12, 20XX 

Location: Classified 

Time: 1000 Hours

    As the haze clears and a picture comes into clear view, we come to see Matthew Prince sitting in the corner of a room. The room is completely empty spare a single drop-light hanging from directly in the middle. A concrete floor and concrete walls border the man as he seems to be staring off into space. Normally vibrant hues are glazed over as if there is a struggle for control taking place within the very mind and soul of the man. Suddenly, his entire body tenses and his eyes snap open so wide they appear as if his orbs are going to pop like super balls right out of his head. Shifting his body, the man turns his attention towards us.  

    “Multiplicity is a terrible thing and the human brain can only take so much strain before it explodes and ends up looking like a failed attempt at meat loaf on a Sunday afternoon. This leads to one becoming overloaded with burdens and distractions and weakness that leaves one vulnerable to ambush and attack. Anton Chase…how are you feeling right now? You had no chance against me, but I didn’t want to starve the fans who spent their hard-earned wages to be entertained and blown away for a single evening. Considering you didn’t walk away from the ring with a broken neck, you should count your blessings and go back to being the cum guzzling jobber that you are in the PWX” Prince spits as he suddenly stands up from the concrete and turns to press both of his hands against the concrete walls. 

    “It’s only getting worse….I’m growing concerned with this bitter curse and I feel that the end is nigh. TJ Codair, you got the best of me last week, you saw an advantageous moment and capitalized on it. I’ll give you credit for the opening paragraph and the body of work, but you made a single fatal error within the conclusion. See….you let me live and you only left me with trivial injuries. A bruised shoulder and road rash on my back…..do you honestly think that’s going to impede me in any way in regards to our match? No, you had the opportunity to retaliate and you came up a bit short. Alas….you know much about coming up a bit short, don’t you, TJ? Let me mention someone’s name to highlight this…..Jordan Caliban. If Anton Chase is nothing but a cumshot his mother should have swallowed, than Jordan Caliban is nothing more than that annoying dingle-berry on the ass cheek of a six hundred pound fatass that rather inhale a Big Mac instead of douching their butthole. Yes, you lost to a dingle-berry, Codair. How in God’s name do you think you have a chance to step toe to toe with me? I mean, seriously. JORDAN CALIBAN!? The fucking kid looks like the bastard offspring of a Hipster and a Turkey Baster. That shit stain looks like the type of douchebag that is more concerned with shaving his balls and dying his hair instead of laying someone out bloodied in the middle of the ring. And, you lost to him!? What did he do, shove a butt plug up your ass and knock you with an armbar that included his balls in your mouth? Listen, TJ. You lost to the Justin Bieber of the PWX….and you think you have a snowball’s chance in hell of retaining both your dignity and the Hybrid Championship after our match? Hell…you ain’t ever getting your pride back, and every time you try to pump yourself up in anticipation of our match, remember these two words. Jordan Caliban.” Prince continues his rant as his breathing has becoming noticeable labored. Twitches begin to form in his left shoulder, moving towards his right eye that starts to quiver.  

    With an explosion of bottled rage the man slams his forehead directly into the concrete wall and rips his forehead open. Crimson rivers immediately start to cascade upon the tanned and weathered flesh of his face. Turning to look directly at us, digits wrapped in medical tape come up and touch the very blood pouring down across his face. “See…there is always two sides to a coin, but it’s still a single coin. Some of us harbor monsters within our very souls and spend a lifetime trying to contain them. Codair….the PWX praises you on your unmatched violence inside and outside the ring. Violence? This organization has no single fucking clue what a true lesson in violence feels like. Fortunately I’m going to play the willing teacher and you’re going to be the first true victim. I hope you do indeed bring all the violence you can muster…for I thrive on it. Pain is pleasure and I simply get off on it…” Matthew continues as his fingers dabble in his own blood and then come down towards his lips. He licks the blood clean and exhales slowly, as if a deep pleasure has escaped from the deepest recesses of his body.  

    “Every single minute that I have to live with you is a struggle that I can no longer get through. Codair….you woke something up that night after the end of my match as you drug my body up the ramp and into the inner workings of the arena like aluminum cans on the back of a happily married couple’s piece of shit, downtrodden vehicle. I’m not exactly sure what it is….this feeling….that’s growing inside of me, but I like it. I’m thriving on the war that is taking place inside of me. I only see myself surrounded by enemies at every angle and it looks like there is no way out for me…..which is just the way I like it. Beat me into a bloody pulp in the middle of that ring if you can, Codair, but we both know how this match is going to end. With my hands around your throat is the way I like you most, TJ. You’ll be choking on the lies you’ve fed yourself and the fans in an attempt to boost your confidence regarding our match for the Hybrid Title. I’m going to take that title from you and slap your balls right up into your throat with it. Titles mean nothing to me, sure, it will make for a nice addition to my achievements, but what matter to me most is showing both you and this company the monster they have allowed to walk into its. The bodies left in my wake will only be rivaled by the suffering and pain you will know in San Antonio, Texas. Codair, this match, this confrontation, this battle….this war is not going to end the way you want. The end is nigh for both you and this sub-par product this organization has been producing since before my arrival. Tell the fans to bring some popcorn, they’ll be speechless as they watch me tear you apart technically and violently in the middle of that ring and end up hoisting the Hybrid Championship over your broken, bloodied body and soul. Plus…you lost to Jordan Caliban. Hell, I hate to keep beating a dead horse, but I just can’t get over how you dropped a match to a jobber that looks like he’s more concerned with shaving techniques instead of grapples and holds in the middle of the wrestling ring. Did he throw hair gel into your eyes to get the upper hand, or did he just offer you a manicure and caught you off guard in your stupor? Did he offer to address your choice in wrestling attire and the hairstyle that accompanies it? TJ, SERIOUSLY, HOW THE HELL DO YOU LOSE TO A SAD EXCUSE OF TALENT LIKE JORDAN CALIBAN?! The mere attempt to fathom that thought makes me feel like a blood vessel is going to pop inside my fucking head. You have a better chance convincing the government to actually take care of its citizens and their futures than defeating me this week for the Hybrid Championship…..when you lose to a diaper trail like Jordan Caliban. You better buckle down and say a prayer, Codair, because the game I bring to the ring makes Jordan Caliban look like a dry, explosive diarrhea fart in the wind” Prince finishes his rant as his entire body seems to relax and loosen up.  

    Looking around the concrete room for a moment, it seems as if the man has become completely disoriented. It seems as if he has no recollection of the rant he just went upon. Looking down at his own bloodied hands, his eyes go wide for a moment as he balls those hands up into shaking fists. “Son of a bitch, it happened again. No wonder I locked myself in here, at least the only person I hurt was myself..” Prince speaks to the air around him within the concrete room as his eyes shift to the only door that would allow him the escape he craved. Approaching the door, he tests the handle and the door opens freely. “But….I thought that I was locked in here..” Prince whispers to himself as he looks to a small antechamber furnished with a simple couch and reclining chair.  

    “You locked yourself in there, said you needed some time to converse with an old friend. I was going to stop you, but I saw that look in your eyes and was reminded of somebody that I knew from the business back in the day. You’re not as far gone as he was, but I can see that force burning deep inside of you. We need to get out of here before we bring unwanted attention upon ourselves. I need to return home and you need to continue on your journey to Baton Rouge. Just remember this, Prince….you can keep living all these multiple lives and expect yourself to come out of the entire mess in one piece” a man dressed from head to toe in jeans, a white t-shirt and a black bomber jacket speaks to Matthew. A black ten-gallon hat and a pair of Ray Bay sunglasses adorn both his head and face, only revealing the flesh of his cheekbones which appears weathered with age and scarred from methods most people wouldn’t want to ever experience.  

    “Thank you for letting me stop here, and thanks for finding me transportation to get me to my next destination. I’m sure we can meet back up after my meeting in Baton Rouge and my match” Matthew speaks to the man dressed from head to toe in black. “Yes, there is still a lot I need to teach you and tell you, Matthew. Alas, that is for another day and time. When you’re sitting in the frying pan as you are at the moment, you need to keep moving as quickly as possible before your ass ends up getting burned” the man pontificates as he takes Prince by the shoulder and leads him out of the antechamber. Walking through a deeply wooded area, the two eventually emerge into a clearing where a Bell 206L4 can be seen warming up with a female pilot awaiting take-off. Prince turns back to the man for a moment and shakes his hand. Quickly Matthew gets into the helicopter and secures himself to the passenger seat. In under sixty seconds the helicopter lifts off from the clearing and over the tree line. The vehicle then dips its nose and begins to fly towards Baton Rouge, as the scene slowly fades to darkness with the mysterious man watching the helicopter disappear over the horizon.  

Date: April 13th, 20XX      

Location: Somewhere Outside Baton Rouge, Louisiana 

Time: 1800 Hours

    The flight to Baton Rouge had gone off without a hitch. Despite all the rules and regulations enforced by the Federal Aviation Administration (FAA), it was quite easy for a trained operative to remain under the hard deck of 1,000 feet and off most radars employed by both commercial and private businesses. A veteran of Third SOG turned crocodile hunter had made all the arrangements for Matthew and Samantha to hunker down in a Safe House located in the swamplands where most sane civilians tend to avoid. It was always paramount for an operator to have connections across the globe. Veterans from all branches could be counted on when it came to the task that Prince found himself on the cusp of facing. 

    The safe house was designed in a similar fashion to the log cabin that Matthew kept in the Pocono Mountains. Creature comforts were almost always sacrificed for the need of operational security and obscurity. Fortunately this converted manufactured home was more spacious and allowed for the two individuals to sprawl out across two bedrooms, a living room, bathroom and full kitchen. The veteran who arranged for use of the house had also delivered a thick brief case curiosity of the individual whom Matthew had originally traveled to Louisiana to meet up with. The brief case contained highly classified information regarding all of Division Seven’s active operations taking place within North America. While the information had little to do with what Sokaris and Serqet needed, it was still interesting to see where the two of them could exploit weaknesses within the Division’s infrastructure. 

    The hour was quickly approaching where Matthew needed to leave in order to make the meeting with their mysterious computer hacker. Having showered while Samantha organized the files, Prince emerged from the shower stall with a noticeable limp and bruises around his neck. Entering the bedroom the two of them were sharing, he would emerge five minutes later clad in jeans, boots and a faded black South Pole hooded sweatshirt. Samantha continued to remain quiet as Prince walked past her and into the adjacent kitchen. Fetching himself a glass of ice water, he turned and looked back at the woman who was clicking away at one of the secure laptops that had been provided to them with the safe house. 

    “So….how long were you going to keep it a secret from me?” Samantha suddenly asked with a twist of her body. She had changed into black boyshorts which revealed long, toned legs and one of his plain black t-shirts. Prince looks over to the femme with an air of confusion about him. “What do you mean, Samantha? I’ve been completely honest with all information regarding my knowledge of Division Seven and why they would want me dead” he answered the accusation. Springing up quickly to her feet, she turns on the balls of her feet and comes to stand in front of her. Tall by female standards, her chin still only came up to the shoulders of the man. “I’m not talking about the fact we were both burned, I’m talking about the cover you’re currently employing. Seriously, professional wrestling? I always thought that was just a boyhood dream…” Samantha speaks, clearly frustrated and upset with the man. 

    “Shit…” immediately comes from the lips of the man “how did you find out?” His mind hadn’t even considered the ramifications of Samantha finding out the other reason the two of them had traveled to Baton Rouge. Their safe house had no cable television but both a wireless internet connection and hardline which allowed for secure and encrypted communication. Never once had he mentioned the fact or dropped any hints. “Listen, Samantha….it’s something my brother and I did back in high school, albeit that was real wrestling. He always wanted to get into the business….and an opportunity came my way. I was considering it as a means for me to get away from all of this….and start enjoying my life as a civilian” Prince explained to the woman who had cooled off a bit. 

    “Matthew, you always preached to me that an operative can’t afford to have distractions in the field. You’re obvious injured by whatever the hell you guys do in the middle of that ring..” Samantha turned away and walked over to the kitchen sink once more. She glances up to the window just as the glass explodes with a torrent of bullets. She barely ducks out of the way as Matthew also dives to the floor. “Samantha, get to the back door and try to get the jeep started!” Prince barked as the woman nodded, shuffling across the floor like a crab towards the back of the house. Moving up towards the cabinets underneath the sink, he pulls open one of the doors as the hail of gunfire comes to a close. He hears faint voices in the distance, a language he hadn’t heard in close to a year. “Russians…” 

    Drawing forth a SAR-21 from underneath the sink, Prince takes a moment to check the weapon’s clip and chamber. Shifting into a crotch walk, his ears pick up the sound of the jeep’s engine starting followed by the distinct sound of a Berretta M9 being fired. Shifting from the kitchen into the living room, another wave of bullets erupt through the bay window. Rending the glass into shrapnel, Matthew dives behind the couch to use it as cover. He continues to wait things out, knowing not to spring up into the open and make a target out of himself. Several seconds pass as the front door of the safe house opens. Prince pops up and sprays three rounds into the head and chest, dropping a man dressed in black tactical clothing. Crossing into the hallway that connects the living room to the bedrooms, he stops inside the bathroom and pulls the door closed.  

    Footsteps are heard entering the house as Matthew notices the sound of the M9 going off. This reassures him that the former Russian KGB agent is more than capable of handling a couple of muscle-bound assassins with poor firing discipline. As the footsteps approach the hallway Prince opens the medicine cabinets and draws forth a Gerber Mark II. Flattening his frame against the wall, he waits for the door to open. As it swings open and the attacker attempts to rush in, Prince kicks against the door and causes the frame to smash the man’s arms into the porcelain of the sink. With a quick squeeze of the trigger three rounds collides into the temple of Russian. His body falls limp to the floor as Prince steps back into the doorway.  

    Advancing into the hallways once more, Prince glances through the Red Dot Sight (RDS) and scans down the corridor into the living room and kitchen. Silence has once more fallen around the scene but that doesn’t mean that the man is letting his guard down. He counted two tangos down but had no idea what Samantha was involved with behind the safe house. Without means of secure and discreet communication he needed to continue pushing through the house to meet up with her and get the hell out of dodge. Coming to the doorway that separates him from the jeep, Mathew takes a breath as the door suddenly swings wide open.  

    Samantha bursts into the room with AKU-12 raised in a perfect firing position to put three rounds directly into Prince’s forehead. Prince had raised his SAR-21 and had the barrel positioned perfectly to direct firepower into her ample chest. The two of them are heaving and bloodied from the assault. “Russians” Matthew speaks to Samantha. “Don’t say a word, Sokaris. I am not with them. I just waxed three of them out back while trying to get the damn jeep started” she replies, as the man finally lowers his weapon. Nodding to her, he motions for the two of them to move towards the Jeep. “SVR?” Prince asks as the two of them enter the warmed jeep, placing their weapons on the floorboards for the time being. “Probably, Ex-Spetsnaz, which means that I’ve been termed PNG by my mother country. Matthew, we need to find out what the hell is on that disk and why we’ve both been disavowed” Samantha speaks as Prince backs the jeep out from the driveway and peels off down the mountainside. 

    “Nothing is what it seems, we need to get to my contact in order to crack the information on that USB Drive” says Prince as the two are jostled and bumped around on the unpaved road which leads them down to the local interstate. “We could be on the verge of starting a global conflict, Matt. If the Division and the SVR are both involved…we’re talking worldwide implications…World War III would just be the beginning” Samantha explains with concern thickening her voice. Just as the jeep approaches the interstate, sirens can be heard approaching from the west. “We need to pick up the pace before the authorities discover us..” are the final words Matthew speaks as he wheel the jeep onto the interstate and smashes the accelerator to the floor. As the jeep drives off into the distance, a sudden flash and violent explosion rocks the vehicle. The force causes the jeep to flip over end over end as it launches over the guardrails and flies over the edge into the adjacent tree line. The scene fades into darkness with only the sounds of sirens and fire ruining the peaceful countryside.   

[codair]

"If I were a man that would struggle to find the soulless monster that hides inside. I'd be shallow and callous with no where to hide. Haunted and vindicated, I'd be a ruthless shell of a man. Swifter to those who would not worry, more to those who focus on their clan. A follower to no master, a flock with no pastor. Ahh to be a bastard sinner with no pulse."

Earlier on in the week
Off Camera

Dear Mr. Codair,
My name is Richard Bolduc, my niece and I always spent our Friday nights, and now our Wednesday Night's curled up on the couch watching you perform in the ring. We both love to watch what you do in the ring and also your promo's outside of the ring. My niece Elizabeth Bolduc, Betty was born Autistic, and now is suffering with a brain tumor that is considered non operable. She has had a rough life, physical abuse, and also uncaring parents. I hate to talk bad about my dead brother, however he was a scum bag. Who was more into getting coke and heroin rather then taking care of his daughter, and her mother was to busy slapping her around and calling her stupid. She don't smile at all anymore, not sense we have found out what is going on with her. She complained of massive headaches and was ill constantly. We saw the doctors, they ran their tests, prodded her and diagnosed her. We have maybe a month or two at the most with her left and god I want to see her smile at least once more. I miss it, she has had such a horrible life. She is only 12 years old and she is dying from this, Mr. Codair. I hope you see this. I know your a very busy man and all and this is more then likely not your email, however I pray that it is. She is currently now at Driscoll Children's Hospital in Corpus Christi. I know you and the PWX will be in San Antonio, which is about two hours away. I was hoping you could find it in your heart to take the time to make a dream come true for a dying little girl that would love to meet her hero."
Sincerely,
Richard Bolduc.

Jezebel enters the room as she does, and comes up to me, I feel her hands on my shoulders and feel a kiss on the top of my head, as she looks down at me. I imagine my face as white as a ghost, unsure of what I should do or say at this moment. As she reads this email I have on my computer and she does not answer immediately either.

Dear Mr. Bolduc,
This is really TJ Codair, I don't know how you managed to get my email, however reading your email, my heart sank. This is my personal cell phone number, 1-546-555-1369. Give me a call. I will be in San Antonio on Friday, and will ride out to Corpus Christi. No Child deserves the raw deal she has gotten and if I can help her forget everything for just a little bit, I would be more then happy to do that.
Tj Codair

Making A Wish
Off Camera

"I wish I could honestly say I understood what it meant to be considered a hero of any sort, or that I understood what it was like to help grant a wish for a child like this, however I was approached, and talking to her Uncle Richard, and him giving me the story on everything. It did things to me mentally that made me feel I needed to go see her. Now here I am, looking at room 416, closed door. I have no idea what I am about to walk into and I can feel my heart racing like I should be the one in the hospital. I don't get this kind of fear in front of the camera or in a match. This is different, this is someone wanting to meet me before she very well may die. To say it is an honor and a privilege, does not do this any justice. I do what I do because I love what I do, and to have the support and admiration, that is huge, specially from a girl that has been through so much. I got to man up, and do this. I gotta get in there. Hope she likes red roses and PWX memorabilia.

I knock on the door, as a man opens it. He looks at me, and immediately extends his hand, as I do the same.

Betty: "Uncle Rich, who is it."

"Christ, the guy is tearing up, alright Teej, ya gotta hold it together man, be the tough guy these people love to watch."

Richard: "Someone who wants to really meet you baby."

I walk in, with flowers in hand, as Richard grabs the shopping cart, and stashes it off to the side of the room.

"Thank god he remembered the surprise."

She is sitting up in her bed , as I see ADR 74 playing on the TV. Her eyes are huge as a giant smile comes across her face. I raise my eyebrows a bit, and drop em back down just as quickly as I walk over to her and give her the roses.

"God damnit, she still does everything she can to look pretty, to keep up appearances even though she knows what's going on. 5 pounds of make up, no hair, however wearing her own clothes and trying to keep up appearances. I can take lessons from her. Not to let what's going on with me show on the outside. "

She automatically gives me a huge tight hug, and I feel the tears coming down out of her eyes right up against my cheek.

"Alright Teej, get it together now man, don't you fucking break ya god damn Mick bastard, this girl needs some strength, and you mother fucker are the god damn toughest son of a bitch alive."

TJ: "Hey Darlin, how ya doing?"

Betty has her hand over her mouth, but I can see her hand moving from her mouth quivering, she's excited, good.

Betty: "Oh my god, this is really you."

TJ: "Ya betcha darlin, ya know any other Boston Irish guys that are as tough as I am that can walk into a hospital and make the orderly's wonder who is going to get tossed a beating."

Betty: "Hahaha, no I don't. Oh my god, I have so many questions, can I post pictures of us on twitter?"

"I can't help but laugh at that, I hate Twitter."

TJ: "Darlin, I dunno what ya wanna do, however me and your Uncle here spoke on the phone and needless to say, your gonna be stuck hanging out with me for the couple of hours. So if ya wanna do pics for twitter, call friends and have me scare, hell if ya want me to go beat up the geek down the hall it's all your call. Oh and by the way, these are for you."

I hand her the dozen red roses as she immediately hits the roof and is in tears. I just get a half grin on my face.

TJ: "Ya see, these here roses, they represent ya, they mean love, respect, courage and passion. Darlin, what your Uncle Rich told me, ya gotta be one of the most courageous people I have ever had the opportunity to ever meet, and I respect that a whole lot, the passion ya got from what Rich was telling me about for the sport, and the love. Well, it meant that I had to get everyone together and ya got a whole lot stuff from the PWX Roster. That is all now yours."

Rich brings in the shopping cart full of goodies, full of autographed pictures of the entire roster, to a giant autographed poster of the roster. Fliers, shirts, a baseball bat autographed by John Ojeda and Nikki Blade, Also replica championship belts autographed by all the wrestlers who currently hold em. She is doing everything she can not to break down and cry as I cant help but smile.

TJ: "Also, I had a word with Brian Hollywood, and he has agreed. Trust me, me going to him and talking civil is scary enough, but us actually working together for you, is insane to say the least. He has agreed to give you and your uncle VIP treatment at our next event, in which me and Matthew Prince are main eventing for the Hybrid Championship. Just to be on the safe side, of course I will be covering the expenses of several doctors and a couple of nurses to be on hand should you need them."

"Not the tears, not the tears, god damnit not the tears, please."

Betty: "Thank you so much Mr. Codair, this means the world to me, Oh my god."

Several Hours Later

Betty is laying down finally asleep as I sit on the couch and smile, she is curled up to the bat autographed by John Ojeda and Nikki Blade and wearing my new shirt. I step out of the room for a moment as Rich approaches me.

Rich: "Thank you so much for coming TJ, it means the world to her."

TJ: "I really had no problem doing it Rich, its my pleasure. She is a wonderful kid."

Rich: "Yeah, she is."

TJ: "Ya know man, my kid brother is two years younger then I am, he was born with Smith Lemli Opitz Syndrome, its a condition that affects learning, and also has physical characteristics, in his case cleft pallet, small body, webbed toes, he eat's through a feeding tube in his stomach. I had a lil cousin growing up who had Autism, a bit more severe then Betty, but he was amazing when it came to music, he knew everything about it. I am going to ask you this once, is there anything that can be done for her? To help her?"

Rich: "The insurance wont cover it, I'm trying to get the money up to help her, but its a dangerous procedure, that may."

TJ: "Alright man, go get the doctor, and tell him to bring the accountant with them."

Rich: "What?"

TJ: "You want you kid to have a fighting chance at surviving this, go get the doctor, and have him get an accountant, and we will talk."

Rich: "TJ, its huge sum of money for the procedure....

TJ: "Rich, I don't give to charity because I don't trust em, I got money, I got a lot of money from the near 20 years I been doing this, and the other business ventures I have going on. That girl is tougher then nails, and had a rough fucking life, she don't deserve this, no kid does. I can't help save em all, but I sure as hell can try like hell to help save her."

I see the tears coming to his eyes as I nod my head, he offers his hand out as I accept it and shake his hand.

TJ: "You both better keep in contact with me, when she gets through this."

A Day Later
On Camera

The scene opens up as TJ Codair is seen standing, arms behind his back, wearing a long leather jacket, a look of pure amusement is seen sprawled across his face as he looks at the camera and grins.

"Oh, to be a savior of the masses, I would never know, but if were a follower of what everyone thought was the next big thing, or the hero that everyone truly wanted, you would have never gotten a match up like this Matt. Hell though, you know that already. You know the only reason you got this match is because Brian Hollywood is hoping your just as sick and twisted as you have acted and that you are man enough to actually put me down terminally."

"OH SNAP, SUCK IT BITCH, I'm WINNING."

"Lets stop and think about this for a minute, Hollywood is already pissed off about me shooting him with a paintball gun, and how would we get revenge. Oh right, lets bring in the guy Codair made his bitch and publicly humiliated on national television by dragging him around like a stuck up bride to be about to get married and dragging the poor bastard husband to be all over to do last minute shopping for the wedding."

"Wait, did I just call you a bitch? What was I thinking, What could have been crossing my mind."

Codair makes a quick hand gesture of him jerking off while holding an imaginary head back in front of him.

"Oh I'm sorry, that may have been a bit to offensive for the younger more sensitive viewers of the PWX. Oh right, I forgot. I don't fucking care. I ain't the politically correct type, even though the entire time I heard Prince talking it sounded like he was trying to sound prime and proper even though he sound more like a donkey being ass raped by Brian Hollywood. Well then again, that is actually correct."

"HOLY Jesus CHRIST ON A WHEAT CRACKER BATMAN. Matthew Prince is a Jackass, and he is being ass raped by Brian Hollywood."

"Whatever though, that's fine. While he squirming and screaming like a porno bitch to Brian and training away, I will have me a few brews, work up some confidence to say the quips and lie to myself a bit more so I feel more confident going into this match against this fuck nut, cock breath, little bitch. Ok, I am holding steady. I am focused, shit, I wish that water bottle of mine was full of something. Maybe the Jesus juice Michael Jackson was feeding the kiddies."

"Oh, I hear everyone watching this right now going oh. That was way to soon and that was wrong. Grow the fuck up you TMZ watching bastards. I am saying whatever comes to my mind, and trust me my mind is a battlefield of landmine's and trip wire. I should watch what I say, someone maybe offended."

Codair stops for a moment and then shakes his head.

"If I wanted to be politically correct I would have stuck it out in other federations that held me down and tried to conform me into the bright shiny example of what a wrestler my age should be. A man of honor, a man that commands respect, a responsible man."

"OH FUCKING BLOW ME WITH YOUR FACIST THOUGHTS AND YOUR LESBO COUNTERPARTS."

"Me running around, saying the right thing, now that's an amusing concept, but see the past few years I have done that. I have strived to be a better person, a brighter person. A ray of hope on the growing field of new comers who think they can walk all over people just to get over."

"Well Jordan Caliban found out real quick, UNCLE TJ ain't playing that game, you know why. I will tell you why, it's no fun. It's just me reporting to work everyday, punching a timecard, and proceeding on like a slave to the system. I ain't no slave, matter of fact. FUCK THE SYSTEM. I am the guy that beats to his own drum. You know why, because that is what I do."

Codair chuckles for a moment as he tries to regain composure, as he just clenches his fist.

"Don't get me wrong, I will brutalize you, I will destroy you, I will dismantle you, I will even if need be skull fuck you, why because I believe in raising the stakes and proving you are just a fucking faggot that needs to be straightened up real quick. Might I suggest a trip to the Westboro Baptist Church, I hear they love guys that take it in the ass. Considering their founder is currently serving a life sentence of pineapples up the rum a bum bum bum."

"What the hell is wrong with me, why am I going off like this, is it because maybe, maybe that the violence I brought out of you, is the slightly distorted point of view I have brought out of myself. Is it wrong that as of right now I find humor in other people's suffering. That I am one of the most popular superstars to have set foot in this company and the reason being is because I have been so off the wall that no one can predict what I am going to say next?"

"CANCER man, I am like Cancer, I just grow on ya a bit, so take your AIDS infested ass outta here you pud pulling, pole smoking, rear humped, deliverance memorized, PULL MY mother fucking hair while you punch me in the kidneys, sick Hershey high way riding, faggot ass out of my business."

Codair pulls out his phone.

"Oh shit, I just lost 5 followers on twitter, remind me to send em a few pipe bombs and a TJ SAVES pamphlet."

"Oh how far do I need to go in this twisted venture I call This is Your life Maddie Princess, oh I mean Matthew Prince. Sorry, the thought of you wearing make up and a pink tutu while Brian Hollywood stands with arms wide open yelling I'm the King of The World is burned into my memory. How else would a guy in his second match get a Hybrid Championship match. HMMMMM, sounds to me like someone is being spider gagged while taking a load in the mouth."

"MONEY SHOOOOOOOOOOOTTTTTTTTTTTT."

Codair shrugs as he kind of looks around confused for a moment.

"Now a man talks to you hiding in the rafters while your training, if that were to happen to me, I would not be here now, you know why. I'd be in jail for burning the place down."

"DON'T GO CHASING WATERFALL'S."

"Oh come on, at least I didn't suggest doing 100 into a tree while driving a friend's new Porsche with Paul Walker."

Codair stops and chuckles sadistically.

"See that, I just made two off color comments about two celebrities who died, Hahaha, I slay me."

Codair gets a real serious look on his face.

"Jordan Caliban, the man that capitalized against me when Brian Hollywood, your lover got involved with my business. Mind, you I beat him twice before here, and once in a inter promotional thing. Then made him run off after the third win."

"Does anyone notice that Matthew Prince is pulling it like a sword, taking stabs at it like the loss bothers me?"

"Oh of course, you would pull a benign attempt at making me doubt myself. Don't ya worry buttercup, I been working hard on making myself feel better about myself. SWITCH TO CLIP."

Codair waits for a second, starts taping his foot, then looks at his watch. Tapping his foot a little bit more.

"OH COME ON."

CLIP SWITCH

Codair is seen standing in front of a mirror, wearing jeans, his chest puffed out, and his fists on his hips.

"I AM GREAT, I LOVE MYSELF, I AM THE BEST IN THE BUSINESS, NO ONE IS MORE TECHNICALLY SOUND THEN I."

CLIP SWITCH

The camera comes back to Codair standing looking at the camera.

"See, I have been practicing and we all know when I am training, I am focused and driven."

"Wait a minute, if I am training then I am thinking he has a chance to beat me correct?"

"No not correct, I want to be in the prime of my life."

"You dumb Mick, snap out of it, why are you talking to yourself."

Codair just looks at the camera and rolls his eyes.

"You know I give up, I am not going to waste my time talking to you Matt like you understand what exactly is going through my mind, I am not going to talk to you like you actually know something. Hell I wont even talk to you like you matter, because truth be told, you don't."

"Yeah, your my bitch, I'm your daddy, get ready for a beating of a life."

"WILL YOU STOP SAYING STUPID THINGS."

"Look at me I'm WINNING."

The scene ends.

[Prince]

Date: April 12th, 20XX 

Location: Classified 

0430 Hours 

    The unconscious mind can be a terrible teacher when it comes to the lessons of regret and suffering. Images of war, death and torture flood every fiber of the man’s mind in an endless torrent like the damn has simply been broken. Enemies slain in the most terrible ways, comrades lost to illness and violence and the untold suffering of the innocent who simply were in the wrong place at the wrong time. Building up in the background is a scream that slowly grows in decibels until finally the sound is too much for the mind to bear. Snapping out of unconsciousness, Matthew Prince opens his eyes and looks around to find himself in a hospital bed. His arms and ankles have been bound by leather straps to the frame of the bed, rendering him unable to even sit up straight and assess his surroundings. 

    “Shit….what the hell happened…” Prince speaks to himself as he is dressed in a hospital gown, the kind of gown that annoyingly exposes one’s ass for all to see. He notices that an IV has been established within the top of his left fist. Tracing the tube back up towards the bag, it appears to be intravenous fluids have been fed into him while he was unconscious. His eyes shift around the room which appears to be both medical in appearance and function. The bed resides in the middle of the room and two plain chairs are placed to the left of it while a small nightstand adjacent to a window is located to the right. Sitting back, he realizes that he has no chance currently of getting out of his restraints. Instead he closes his eyes and attempts to recall the events leading up to his current incarceration. 

    Everything stemmed back to the assassination attempt issued by Division Seven for Senator Roberts. Operation Redemption had been created by Division Seven to remove corruption from the American Government through Wet Operations and Black Operations. Prince had ended the lives of countless monsters who used and abused taxpayer dollars as if they were kings and queens from a forgotten era. Justice was being served and everything was seeming to go off without a hitch. That all changed the night Prince was finally given the okay to terminate the biggest offender within the inner circle of the American power structure. Division Seven had one of their own former operatives waiting with an entire team of highly trained operatives for the soul purpose of capturing and eventually eliminating Matthew. 

    It was only through shear skill and determination that he had been able to remove Salem from the equation and escape with his head still upon his shoulders. Fighting, evasion, escape; these were all words that had been burned into the psyche of Prince from the days of his youth. Education and training had always come from the Old Man, he had never known a traditional American education. This only served to sharpen his edge at an early age, for the Old Man had long since grown disgusted with every institution that was now festering within the country he so deeply loved. As Matthew grew he honed both his mind and body until the day came at the age of seventeen to enter military service. En route to the local recruiter, everything had changed. 

    Despite the fact that he himself had served, the Old Man refused for Prince to enter Active Military Service which would only result in him getting killed in the middle of a desert for no legitimate reason. No, the real problem was not outside the country, but was growing as a cancer from within. He arranged for Prince to meet with an old friend who worked for a CIA fronted organization known as Division Seven. The Division was created with the sole task of eliminating and removing domestic terrorists. The focus was to pull away from policing the outside world and instead focus on removing threats that existed within the homeland. The Old Man explained to Prince that the real problems were not abroad, but from within. He would be given the opportunity to do real good and remove the real problems plaguing the country. 

    Matthew accepted with both an eagerness to serve and anticipation of having the ability to work as an operative within the United States, outside the laws of man that long ago stopped meaning anything to him. The training he received at the Division’s Central Facility made everything the Old Man had put him through seem like nothing more than a warm-up before the championship game. Every day at the Central Facility was spent with a rigorous training regiment that left both his mind and body expended almost every single night. The only human contact he was allowed was with his instructors, he never knew if he was the only operator being trained or if there were others like him. He approached his training every day with fervor and determination no matter how exhausted he was or how much his body wanted to quit on him. 

    “Alright….it’s time to get out of these restraints…” Prince asserted to himself as he started to wiggle his right wrist around until he was finally able to slip his hand out of the restraint. Learning how to escape from shackles and bonds had just been one of many numerous days during his time at the facility. He removes the needle from his opposite hand and then unties the strap around the same arm. Noticing footsteps approaching from behind the door that leads into the room, Matthew relaxes within the bed and closes his eyes. As the door to the room opens, a tall blonde dressed in medical scrubs saunters in and brings the door closed behind her.  

    The woman moves to stand by the side of the bed and is holding a chart between manicured fingers. Her emerald hues study the information upon the chart and happens to pay little attention the fact that Prince has escaped from his bonds. Parting his eyes open slowly, Prince notices that the woman is more concerned with the chart than the fact her patient has slipped out of his bonds. Prince sits up completely straight and the femme immediately drops the chart and moves to deliver a chop to the throat of Prince. Matthew parries the blow with his right arm and snaps across, delivering a strike to the stomach of the woman. Climbing quickly out of the bed, Prince is caught off guard as the femme retaliates with a flurry of punches that land against every sore spot of the man’s body. Stumbling backwards into the bed, Prince notices both straps that had just been keeping him restrained to the bed.  

    As the femme approaches, she grins coyly. “You have no idea what happened, do you, Sokaris?”  she speaks as the distance closes between the two of them once more. Matthew remains sprawled against the bed, playing off his injuries as if they were truly incapacitating them. “Most likely a Division medical facility…and where the hell is Serqet?” Matthew asked as the blonde was now standing less than a foot in front of him. “That cunt? She didn’t survive the crash that landed you here, Sokaris…” the blonde snarls from otherwise beautiful lips. Prince’s eyes go wide for a moment, glaze over, and then focus with machine like precision upon the woman standing before him. With a roar of anger the man rips both leather straps away from the bed that had been restraining him. The burst of violence causes the woman to hesitate momentarily and gives Prince the opening that he needs. 

    Driving his knee into the woman’s stomach, he wraps the straps around her neck and pulls them tight which in turn immediately cuts the air off to her brain. Yet, the thought of Samantha and countless other comrades being killed while assisting him causes the man to keep the pressure on the straps until the woman’s neck snaps like a twig. As her body falls limp Prince catches it before hitting the floor. Quickly tossing her onto the bed, he covers her body with the blankets and shifts back towards the door, barring it closed with one of the chairs that had been placed within the bedroom. He was certain that his outburst would draw attention to the security force that was no doubt rushing toward this very bedroom. Glancing back to the window, he knows that trying to force his way through it would be damn near impossible. The glass was a reinforced polycarbonate created to withstand strikes from bullets up to fifty calibers in size. The only way would be for the man to fight his way out of the room and mostly likely die in the process. Well, maybe that was what needed to happen. If Samantha was dead then maybe it was time to join her?   

    As self-doubt was creeping into the mind of Sokaris, he notices a flash of light coming through the glass window that seemed to only taunt the man with the thought of impossible escape. Matthew looks back to the door as he hears the voices of several men shuffling in heavy equipment approaching the room. Another flash of light cuts through the glass window and catches the corner of Prince’s eyes. Turning his full attention to the window, he steps back as a projectile strikes the glass and shatters it completely. “What the fuck…” Prince blurts out loud as he rushes towards the window. “Matthew, let’s go!” comes all too familiar voice of Serqet as she offers her hand and arm through the shattered remains of the window. Matthew takes hold of her hand and climbs through the mangled frame, emerging into an alley riddled with trash and other numerous unmentionables. “Samantha….they told me you were dead” Prince spoke as the woman grabbed his hand. “Let’s talk and move, your computer hacker friend is waiting for us with a ride out of here. Division Seven assumed I was killed in the blast, but the investigators failed to report that my body was never found. It seems there is a resistance building from within Division Seven, but for now we need to get out of here” Samantha explains as she runs down the alley with Prince towards a black Escalade.  

    “A resistance forming within the Division?” Matthew asks as the two of them come to stand in front of the Escalade. Samantha quickly opens the passenger door to the backseat and the two of them jump in. Pulling the door shut behind him, Prince takes a moment to catch his breath as the Escalade takes off down the street and puts miles between them and the Division Seven medical facility. Looking towards the front seat, a man dressed rather fashionably in a black Gucci suit and matching fedora glances up into the rearview mirror and flashes a smile lit up by an artificially bleached grill. “Anthony, is that you?” Prince asks with a look of shock upon his face. “Ya mon, do you like the new look?” replies the man driving the vehicle. “It’s certainly looks better than those pajamas you’re wearing right now, mon.” Prince blinks as he notices that Samantha is laughing at him despite the gravity and intensity of the situation.  

    “Shit…no wonder my ass and balls are freezing” speaks Prince as his cheeks suddenly flush with color. “Don’t worry, mon, once we get out of the city and back into the swamps to my humble abode, we can get you some proper clothing” replied Anthony as he made a sudden sharp left turn, almost tipping the Escalade completely over as they merged onto the local highway which would lead them away from the city. Matthew can’t help but laugh as his resident hacker buddy hasn’t lost an ounce of his flamboyance. Looking over to Samantha, he offers the woman a faint smile. Samantha draws her left hand to rest upon the top of Matthew’s right hand, bringing their digits to mesh together faintly. The scene draws to a close as the Escalade quickly becomes lost in the daily traffic of commuters coming into and leaving Baton Rouge. 

Date: April 12th, 20XX 

Location: Baton Rouge, Louisiana 

1850 Hours 

    Some people like to say that it can be difficult for an individual to see the forest for the trees. Trying to micromanage three separate lives was becoming increasingly difficult for the man, but he was showing no signs of slowing down. The escape from the Division medical facility had gone off without a hitch as Anthony was not just a computer dweeb, but a trained former operative of the NSA and CIA. He knew how to initiate deep cover and effectively disappear off the radar. Currently they were situation on a beach within the Gulf Coast that had no signs of civilization around it for square miles. The land was rebounding from that terrible catastrophe that exploded across the Gulf Coast back in the summer of 2005. Yet, there were still stretches where an individual could find land would never be claimed by others. Anthony had chosen to set up shop in such a place in order to maintain his anonymity. As the waves emerge from the Gulf of Mexico and come to crash against the beach, we see a former swimming with the waves towards the sand. 

    Prince emerges from the water dressed in a pair of plain black swimming trunks. The wounds on his body from both his ordeals within the PWX and his ongoing war with Division Seven were close to being completely healed. Samantha was a renowned battlefield medic and had managed to clean and redress all his wounds during their escape from the hospital. As Prince steps onto the sand and turns towards the setting sun, he draws in a long breath and slowly exhales from the deepest regions of his lung. Falling to the ground, he begins to do one handed push-ups within the sand. After snapping off one hundred brisk and crisp pushups that would make a Marine Drill Instructor shit his pants, he stood back up to his feet and continues to look towards the setting sun. 

    “Life is all about the choices and decisions we make. More often than not, when we make these decisions, we aren’t about to look past the initial impact to see how the waves will cascade against the rocks caught within the wake of that decision. Sometimes we hurt people without intending to. Other times we help people when all we are trying to do is gain an advantage for ourselves. We all live different lives and carry masks that represent those lives. So, TJ, you help the sick and less fortunate. I respect you for that, there are thousands of souls barely gripping onto life that can use an uplifting experience to bring a smile upon their face. Yet, deep down, what are you truly giving them? False hope, a promise of a continued existence within a world that is on the brink of complete and utter catastrophe? I’m not sure I would honestly want to spare the life of a child facing death when they will only be rewarded with sixty or seventy years of untold pain, suffering and exploitation at the hands of the very government that was at one time sworn to protect them” Matthew speaks as his eyes seem to become lost in the sun’s setting horizon. 

    “Or, maybe that is how you are able to cope with the violence you engage in within the middle of the wrestling ring. By brightening up a child’s life you’re able to forget the pain you’ve endured and caused in the middle of the ring. As I said, every decision we make has countless motives and hopes behind it. You could just be someone trying to honestly do well in a world that is being increasingly consumed by corruption and violence. So, now that the happy go lucky feelings have been set aside, how about we get down to business?” Prince speaks as he turns and approaches a sand dune that towers completely over him. For several minutes he runs up and down this sand dune, fighting through both the pain of his recovering body and the increasingly difficult terrain beneath him as the sand continues to collapse around him. Finally winded, the man moves to sit down upon the sand, drawing his face into his hands for several seconds. Looking back up towards the camera, his lips curl into a menacing smile. 

    “Sick? Twisted? Me? These are adjectives that I would hardly use to describe myself, Codair. I’ve always found my mental facilities and ways of thinking to be normal. It is the mental health of the world at large around me that makes me sick. So, you honestly believe I was given a shot at the Hybrid Championship because Brian Hollywood has a hard-on when it comes to seeing you get a foot broken off within your ass? I could give two shits and a flying fuck in regards to what Brian Hollywood thinks or wants from me. When one is standing on the battlefield and decides to systematically destroy an opposing force, one picks the weakest opposition first and proceeds to tear them limb from limb. So, you shot somebody with a paintball gun and now they have their panties in a twist? I’m not here to do Hollywood’s dirty work, I’m here to bring the entire PWX to its knees and I simply decided to start with you. I laid you out on top of traveling equipment like a cheap suit, and you in kind drug me up the ramp on a motorcycle. I wasn’t in the mood to get arrested on my first night in the PWX….which is why I decided to go easy on you, Codair. When we get to San Antonio next week, you’re going to see just what you’ve awoken inside of me” Prince continues to pontificate as his hands come to push against the sand below him. Standing back up to his feet, his hands come to rest at his sides as sunlight reflects off numerous pale scars that riddle every inch of his body. 

    “See, while you result to insults like bitch, I prefer words like bacterial vaginosis infected cumstain. I’m sure the FCC and PWX is going to love speech like that. Fuck them, send me the bill in the mail, I’m not in this company for the money or to be the personal hitman for Brian Hollywood. And how the hell would you know what a donkey being ass raped by Brian Hollywood even sounds like in the first place? TJ, everyone is allowed to have their sexual kinks in this day and age, but let’s keep the more perverted pleasures locked up behind closed doors, shall we? If you’ve been paying attention what so ever you might have noticed the Russian operative that has been by my side since this entire shit storm started. She knows over twenty ways to kill a man just with her legs. Let’s just say one could be surprised to see how those abilities could translate into bedroom antics. Alas, I’m not here to justify my sexual orientation and make jokes about butt sex and anal rape. I moved past such trivial and childish insults when I graduated from high school, Codair. I’ll blame your use of such insults on the copious amounts of alcohol you have indulged in throughout the years….or the fact you were dropped on your head like a super ball as a child” Prince continues to rant as the sun has all but set against the ocean. Looking towards the mobile home sitting on a hilltop next to the sand, he steps away from the scene as it fades into darkness. 

Date: April 12th, 20XX 

Location: Baton Rouge, Louisiana 

1940 Hours 

    “I haven’t seen an encryption program like this since my days in the NSA, mon” came the voice of Anthony as the man takes a drag from a rather suspicious-looking cigarette between his chocolate lips. As Matthew enters the room where three separate 40 Inch computer screens can be seen mounted against the largest wall, Anthony offers the “cigarette” to Matthew. Matthew shakes his hand, turning the offer down. “Thanks but no thanks, Ant, I have responsibilities and commitments I need to make sure I don’t compromise” Matthew replies as he sits down in a swivel chair with a bottle of ale in his right hand. “Suit yourself, my friend, and let’s get down to business. While you were outside working off all that anger and anxiety in your body, I started to crack the security program on this USB Drive. As I previously mentioned, I haven’t seen programing like this since my days in the NSA. Where exactly did you get this USB Drive from in the first place?” Anthony asks upon taking another drag of the “cigarette.”  

    “I was the one that gave him the device, and I stole it off Russian’s Division Seven Attaché before I slit his throat from ear to ear” comes the voice of Samantha as she emerges from the mobile home’s bathroom adorned in one of Prince’s black t-shirts and a pair of his sweatpants. As she dries off her crimson locks with a white towel, she moves to sit down upon a similar chair by Prince’s side. “I tried to hack into it myself while I was fleeing from Russia and making my way to the United States. I couldn’t even get through the first firewall..” Samantha trails off as she looks over to Prince and notices the bottle of ale she is enjoying. Reaching over, she snatches the bottle from the man’s hands and takes a long gulp of the ice cold refreshment. Anthony chuckles and moves towards the bank of computer monitors. Punching in a series of keys, he brings up a progress bar that reads twenty-five percent out of one hundred percent.  

    “As you can see, I’m having my own issues with cracking this device. I can only guess that the information contained on this disk would be classified as Code-Word Access. It could take me weeks before I finish cracking this device open, mon” Anthony explains to the two of them as he takes another drag and exhales a thick plume of smoke from his lips. Samantha crinkles her nose and Prince laughs, taking a pull of beer from the bottle he snatched back from Samantha. “Anthony, you’re never going to give that habit up, are you?” Prince asks as he knows by now he’s probably already getting a contact buzz. He was sure that the company was going to give him hell if he failed a drug test. Oh well, he’d been bucking authority his entire life, why the hell would he bother stopping now. “Aye, we all have our vices, mon. I think it may be in your best interests for the two of you to continue your journey and let me pound away at this USB Drive. I’ve been keeping a watch on the internet blogs and forums…..and it seems that everything blows up wherever the two of you end up. I consider ya both my good friends, but I like what I have going here and don’t feel like having to disappear from another government agency’s radar, again” Anthony explains to the two of them as he pushes away from his multiple keyboards and studies the two sitting across from him.  

    “I understand completely, Anthony. The two of us wouldn’t have come here in the first place if we didn’t have anywhere else to turn. The entirety of Division Seven wants the two of us dead. They have captured me on more than one occasion and I have no idea what they have been doing to me. I’ve been suffering from memory loss ever since I was attacked by Salem and I haven’t been able to recall bits and pieces from my training with the Division” Prince explains to Anthony as Samantha looks over to Matthew with a pang of concern across her face. “When were you planning on telling me this?” Samantha asks as her tone quickly changes from playful to sharp and resonate. “I’m sorry, Samantha. I didn’t want to tell you that I’ve been compromised…..I’ve never felt this uncertain and weak before. I’ve never had problems conducting missions before….and what scares me most is not that the Division wants me dead…..but that the Division wants to capture me alive” Prince speaks to the two of them as his eyes start to stare a hole into the floor of the mobile home.   

    “Listen, Prince, Samantha, I want the two of you to get some rest tonight. I’m going to get on the horn with one of my contacts within the city to arrange for transportation to San Antonio for the two of you. Don’t worry about the cost, I still owe you, Prince, for helping me get out of the NSA with my head still attached to my shoulders” Samantha nods and takes hold of Prince’s shoulder, squeezing gently to snap him out of the daze he had fallen into. Prince blinks his eyes several times and then looks up to Anthony with a nod. “Thanks for everything, Anthony. Once I manage to take care of this shit-storm, the two of us need to get together and have a down-home Southern Creole clam bake” Prince replies as he stands up to his feet and walks off with Samantha to the bedroom Anthony had given them for the night. “We’ll do that soon, mon. The two of you get some rest for the morning…” Anthony trails off as he watches Samantha smile to him and shut the door to the bedroom. Once he is certain the two of them aren’t emerging from the bedroom, he pushes against the floor and picks up a disposable cell phone sitting on the computer table next to his series of keyboards. Anthony waits for the audible clicks and chirps of the phone indicating that it has synchronized with a secure phone on the other side. 

    “Control. Yes, I have Sokaris and Serqet sleeping quietly within my safe house. I will arrange for transfer of the two fugitives and the classified information as soon as the money has been deposited into my secure bank account. Yes. Thank you. A pleasure doing business with you…..” 

Date: April 13th, 20XX 

Location: Classified 

0925 Hours 

    With the sun already pushing across the sky with the arrival of another morning, songbirds can be heard cavorting with one another in a language we’re too unfortunate to understand. The sound of rushing water can be heard cascading around rapids within an adjacent river and cuts along a parallel path with a dirt trail that had been worn into the woods through decades of use. A familiar form is seen running along this path dressed in a pair of jogging shorts and a black Under Armor muscle shirt. Keeping a steady and challenging pace, his running shoes carry his large and agile form across a rock bed, over several roots growing through the ground, and a pile of dung that belongs to one of the many creatures that call this secluded forest home.  

    “You know, TJ, it doesn’t really matter if Jordan Caliban found out that you’re not in this organization to fuck around and have a good time. That blemish is going to remain upon your record like a wart on one’s ass that never seems to go away. Like a ruptured hemorrhoid, that simple fact will remain an annoying fact in your life that you will never be able to avoid. I’m still trying to figure out where all the homosexual jokes and jabs are coming from. Is there something you need to confess to the thousands of fans that attend PWX on a week to week basis? Why else would a man seem so content to fire off childish insults like “faggot” and comparisons to guys who like “taking it” up the ass. I’m sensing some deeply rooted conflicts here, TJ. I’ve never once even showed a ration of evidence that would explain a love for the skin flute. Or maybe you’re just trying to come onto me? I don’t swing that way, but I’m certain you can find those who would oblige you for the right price” Matthew Prince speaks towards the camera as he continues to maintain his running pace through the forest. Coming into a bend that curves around the largest width of the river, the man moves off to the side by a rock formation to take a moment and re-lace his shoes. 

    “Unpredictability is something operators like me thrive upon. The other facet operators like me thrive on is something called violence of action. This is something that was taught to me back in the service. It’s the simple reason why I am going to defeat you in the middle of the wrestling ring at next week’s Adrenaline. The violence I engage in doesn’t come from animalistic urges or psychotic breaks….it’s simply all I know how to do in order to survive. When I step into a situation with an opponent my first instinct is to identify the steps needed to take in order to end the confrontation in as little moves as possible. I’m not accustomed to show-boating or dragging out a fight for the benefits of those watching in both shock and amazement. Although, I have found myself getting more and more used to the rush of destroying someone in front of an audience” Prince speaks as he moves down to unlaced and kick off both his running shoes and socks. Approaching the cliff-line overlooking the vast river, the man dives deep into the water. Emerging thirty seconds later, he begins to swim across the river, pushing against a current that would swallow most men to the watery depths. Emerging on the other side of the river, he glances up to the camera once more. 

    “You call yourself a cancer, TJ? Well, than that makes me Cannabinoid Carl and I’m going to smoke your ass from one end of the wrestling ring to another. Comparisons to sexually transmitted disease and sodomy….and here I thought we were all adults here. Maybe your brain has just regressed to that of a child, and you have no choice but to bring elementary heat to an extinction level event. You got pipe bombs and I got MOABs, you have insults that fall short while I’m like Rone in a three round throw down. This isn’t about the battle but the result of the war, we both know who is going to be left choking on the blood soaking the floor. While you’re jerking off to Twitter I’m out here riding tall, while you’re painting glitter on your face I’m pounding the shit out of your sister. See, TJ, I can toss immature insults with the best of them, but I can also systematically break you down and leave you with no chance of overcoming me” Prince seems to become lost within his own rant as his eyes glaze over once more. The combination of the exhaustion from training and his mental instability was both working ferociously against him. Drawing a deep breath, his hands come up towards his eyes and slip back to rub at his temples. 

    “How did I get a shot against your title so quickly, TJ? Simple. I’m fucking better than you. I may be the rookie in this company, but I come from a training camp where you eat, sleep and breathe this business. It either becomes your life or it consumes you completely and leaves your smoking husk of a corpse on the street corner. I’ve been watching and studying you, and I’m still busy duct taping my brain together after I broke it trying to figure out how Jordan Caliban defeated you. Seriously….did he toss glitter in your eyes and fornicate you with a butt plug in order to win the match? TJ….I don’t mind bringing myself down to your level when it comes to insults being thrown around like rocks in glass houses. It’s not that hard to dumb myself down to your level, I just fear that the brain cells I have lost in the process may never come back. So, in closing, TJ…..I will leave you with this: You are the architect of your own demise, so smile no more. I am the gatekeeper standing at the doors of the PWX, and you are mine forever more. TJ, this upcoming Adrenaline is going to be your day of reckoning, and like the brave man you attempt to convince yourself you are, you will spin in fear at the sound of my incoming voice. You’re about to be caught in between the Hammer and Life, and with my hand around your throat, that is the way I like you most” Prince finishes as he turns away from the camera and jogs off into the woods, disappearing from sight as the camera fades into darkness.  

[codair]

"Trapped in a endless abyss, my mind is scattered. My eyes are focused on the darkness, and my brain is shattered. I feel the embrace, and the my eyes clear. Hell fire relinquishes heat on my face, and I move forward knowing no fear."

In Memory of a Memory
20 years ago [/U]
Boston.

"Move your ass Teej." Jimmy yells to me as he dodges a punch to the face from a much bigger man in the city street, while I punch another guy in the kidney, and dodges a punch from this other prick. "Wrecking Machine Teej, your a Wrecking Machine." I punch a man in the knee, and then throw him into the trash cans, that were sitting beside the dumpster.

"What the fuck ya saying guy." I yell back at Jimmy, as Jimmy suddenly drops to the ground, a 5'9 guy stands behind him with a knife in hand. I shook my head in disbelief thinking this didn't just happen, as I threw haymaker punch to the guy behind me, and drive a knee to his sternum. "YOU MOTHER FUCKER, I WILL KILL YOU." I yell to the guy with the knife as he motioned me to come on. I walk towards him. "Come here douche bag, you and that knife so I can stick it up your ass and twist you fucking faggot fu...." In an instant, a loud explosion is heard, it stunned me, as I dropped to my knees. I can't remember much, as I put the hand on the back of my head and pull it back realizing it was nothing but blood. I turn my head and look to see a man standing there with a lead pipe as I turned back to Jimmy, and feel the pipe hit me in the back of the head again. I drop fast, don't remember much at all after that, cept the sharp burning pain going into my back.

"Fuck it's the cops, get outta here Angel." I guess I tried to push myself back up, as I see Jimmy in front of me lying there, I try to get over to him, as I feel the pipe hit me right in the back of the head and then everything went black.

20 Years Ago [/U]
Mass General Hospital.

"Ya know kid, ya almost died face down in the street a couple of weeks ago, your head is bashed in, you were stabbed twice." Boston PD's top homicide detective, Cassidy I think his name was, was working on my case. Diagnosed with a bit of brain damage, apparently something to do with the lead pipe shots. My family were there however when I woke up, they decided to go ahead and grab lunch like five minutes before so here I am stuck in this room with this Mick cop. Ain't been outta my lil nap for more then a half hour at least. "Ya know kid, we could move this along a whole lot quicker if ya tell me who it was."

"Where is Jimmy, he can answer better then I can right now. Hell I can barely even see ya, what's the big fucking deal anyway's." I hear the detective sigh as everything is still to bright, and all I am making out is shadows. Hopefully its just from me being in the coma for the past two weeks, not the supposed brain damage "Where the fuck is my cousin." [/color

"He died at the scene, you were barely saved." About that moment is when everything hit me like a ton of fucking bricks and I remembered what had happened. This Mick cop poking and prodding me, trying to get the info out of me before I explode, and well I guess he couldn't keep the truth from me any longer. Or maybe he was just trying to get me to tell him what the hell happened. "I am sorry about your loss."

I didn't speak for awhile after that, took me a long time to digest what had happened, and why it went down the way it did. Shit, we we're just shooting pool in a pool hall when these guys started slapping around the owner of the place. We knew what it was hell, we tried to walk away, but of course they followed us out and that's when it all went down the way it did. We tried defending ourselves and of course, we got mouthy. Jimmy didn't drink, didn't smoke, hell the kid didn't even do drugs. Anyone who should have died that night was me. Fact is though, I survived. I hated myself for it, but I knew I had to carry on his memory in a way that he would be proud of. They say a life change thing happens when your knocking on death's door. Fact is though, I saw no bright shiny white light. Hell I saw no fire and brimstone either, all I saw for a time was nothing but blackness, then started reliving good times with Jimmy, who was my best friend, my wing man. My go to guy, the guy I always knew had my back, of course he was taller then me. However I was a bit more built and a bit more rugged. Even though we could always hold our own against anyone on the planet. We we're invincible so we thought.

I still felt the detectives eyes on me, I knew he was still in there, and of course no one could tell my parents I was awake yet or anything like that. This guy wanted to know who he could go after for the shit that happened to me and Jimmy. I need to give these guys up. That thought was in my head, and everything I could think of was about seeing these idiots rot for the rest of their lives. Then again, the thought of me getting my hands on them and fucking killing these guys, it was more then I could imagine. That was what I wanted most of all right now, and that was something that I could have.

"I didn't see anything." I told the detective, I heard him clear his throat a little, I guess a clear cut sign that he did not believe me however I could care less if he did. Fact was I ain't a rat bastard, and I still believed in the Code. Provided at times I questioned if I was the only one in Boston, that still did in the Irish Community. In Charlestown, it used to be nothing but Irish til the very end of the 80's then every low wage, low income family moved in. Unfortunately with the poverty, ya get the street scum, with the street scum you get drugs and the violence. The Irish didn't like that to much. Back when I was younger, mothers and grandmothers could walk around in Charlestown at Midnight and no one bothered them, and if they did they suffered. End of story, and in exchange for that, people kept there mouth shut. The Code of Silence, a beautiful thing, however now a days with Whitey being on the run, and all the families going to jail and shit, its just fucked. Of course the dredges took over Charletown, what was all 100 percent Irish, is now 60 percent Irish, and 40 percent minority. Mainly the drug dealing low life minority type just coming off the docks, or who been looking to peddle there shit.

"We know you two fought them, we got witnesses to that, however, if your not willing to talk now, maybe you will be willing to talk later." He says to me, as I just shake my head, luckily its beginning to get a little bit clearer, my eyes are beginning to focus right. "Tommy, I know your a tough little shit, but if its who I think it was, they are as good as dead anyway's, specially when....."

"I don't know what your talking about man, We were jumped by a few street punks while walking back home."

"By who, the porch monkeys, the wet backs, who was it kid, your a fucking Mick from the Charlestown projects, we know for a fucking fact that you saw something, and damn it kid, we got descriptions of who they were, we just need you to verify."

"Your right, I did see something detective, your wife's sweet eyes while she was sucking my dick." Figures, I stuck to the code, what I was raised on. What I believe in. I get to the point where I can distinguish the detectives face and realize the look he is giving me is not a good one. The one where they actually tune up people to get what they want. Of course they know I got the info, I just ain't shelling out the info, and he is pissed.

"Your funeral kid, my suggestion is this, talk to me when your ready, don't go at these guys, and don't send anyone to do it for you. Should they happen to have an accident, or burn, or whatever the next stop is here, or your house." I just look at him, and laugh, as another guy enters the room and calls him out. They leave for a minute as I am left alone with my thoughts, and my anger. Then he comes back in the room after a couple of minutes. "Kid, we gotta go check up a few stiffs, who may have been connected with what you went through. They already been ID 'd as the assailants."

"Well at least I don't have to work on my alibi." I couldn't help but laugh, looks like Uncle Sully got to them first.

Present Day [/U]
Dive Bar
Off Camera.

Codair is having a drink, looking over some papers as the bartender fill him another draft. He is seen oddly enough wearing a pair of glasses, while reading over a few things. The bartender fills him up another shot glass and puts it down right down beside him. Codair stops for a minute, and rolls up the sleeves of long sleeve button up shirt, and then continues on reading.

Bartender: "Hey man, the lady down at the end of the bar bought you this drink."

Codair does not respond, his focus is solely on the papers in front of him, a letter. Handwritten oddly enough, as the woman at the end of the bar comes walking down the bar and sits beside him, as Codair does not take his eyes off the letter in front of him, focusing solely on the letter. With a moment passing between them, as another man comes up towards the woman. They start to argue a moment, as he grabs her by the wrist.

Man: "Bitch, you still belong to me, I don't care if you broke up with me or not. I own your ass."

Codair stops reading the papers, and takes off his glasses, then takes the shot that he was given by the bartender, he then looks over the papers again. As the man begins to drag the woman by the arm away from the bar.

Bartender: "Hey, you leave the lady alone, and.."

The man glares at the bartender as Codair stands up, folding the papers and putting them in his back pocket. Codair turns and walks towards them. The man begins to glare at Codair.

Man: "What are you going to do about it."

Codair just drives a quick forearm to the man's jaw, as he quickly lets go of the woman's wrist. Codair takes the man by the back of his head and smashes it off the bar a couple of times, as the man falls limp. Codair cracks his neck and walks towards the bathroom.

As the Bartender and the Woman look at each other.

On Camera

The scene opens up as up TJ Codair is seen standing in front of the Alamo, a look of pure annoyance is seen on his face as he looks at the camera.

"You know something, the more and more I think about the man known as Prince, the more I think of ways to rip his fucking head off and shit down his neck. This boy, is a constant reminder to me as of right now to everything that is wrong with the wrestling community as a whole now. Years ago, people actually showed signs of respect, now a days. I mean who the fuck am I to talk, I came in swinging for the fences with John Ojeda, however I was backing a friends play when he needed me. You, who the fuck are you. Other then some pompous ass no good piece of shit. You see Prince, I don't give a fuck if you got the entire Revolution behind you, shit, I could give a fuck if you change your name to a god damn symbol. Purple Rain, it's going to be raining blood when im done with you, and then we will truly know what its like when dove's fucking cry."

Codair is stopped as the camera man is heard saying it is not the musician.

"Wait a minute, who the fuck am I fighting again."

Codair is told Matthew Prince. As a confused look comes across his face. As the cameraman sighs, and says "The guy you dragged with your motorcycle"

"Wait, he is the guy im facing, I thought he was some little bitch that just needed his ass kicked. Ah whatever, as I was saying. Prince, im gonna fucking bitch slap you to kingdom come, you know why. Well it's simple, your a cunt. Cunt's need to be bitch slapped. Hell if it where not considered bad form, I'd fucking crucify you. You know why, because well then you would be remembered, hell even worshipped by people. So that people can do even more stupid fucking things in this world and be justified in their actions just by saying they did it in Prince's name."

Codair chuckles for a minute.

"You know what's fun, I guarantee ya I just insulted quite a number of people, but I could give a fuck, and they all know it. You know why that is you sacrificial little fucking lamb, cause you do not scare me, you do not intimidate me, hell you don't even threaten me. Your a fucking mistake in the making. You think your are impressive, hell cheap shoting me after a fucking match, and then thinking your something more. No bitch, you ain't shit. Hell you beat Anton Chase, whoopee, who has not beaten Anton Chase. That line has been over played more then Troy Stone has gotten last minute promo's out. That line has been more over played then Darin Zion's under the desk games with Brian Hollywood. That line has been more over played then Tiami Tyler's clit in a 100 vs 1 gang bang. Get where I am going with this. Its all been done before. Come out with something better."

Codair glares at the camera.

"Jordan Caliban beat you."

Codair rolls his eyes.

"Yeah, yea, yeah. what's next, Anton Chase won against me in a match cause I got myself DQ 'd for the crossface. Whoopee, yay, lets throw a parade for the master of the obvious. Let's hear it for Mr. Prince, and his god damn observations. Creepy little fuck, the only thing that's scary about you is the fact that you should be hiding in the shadows watching teenage girls get undressed you sick little fuck. You think your bad, bitch, you ain't even met bad yet. You think your something special, yeah maybe short bus special. Who the fuck are you, your a fucking young upstart that thinks he's something more then what he is. You are officially my fucking bitch Wednesday night, to bad. Oh and tell the Black Widow wannabe bitch ya got at your side, she gets in my way. I could give a fuck if she can kill me 20 different ways with what's in between her legs or not. Hell im surprised she is still alive with 20 different diseases. However that is how it is I guess. Enjoy muff diving that broad Prince."

"Oh come on man, you know you'd enjoy hitting that shit. Its like they say, the pussy you can't have is the pussy most desired."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, im way out of line here. I should really sit down right here and think about things. Maybe go in the corner and play boom boom with the fucking Alamo?"

Codair spins his arm towards the Alamo. Then a sadistic grin comes across his face.

"Now wouldn't that be fun, get rid of a landmark that would cause everyone to start freaking out, get everyone in a giant fucking uproar and call the cops and shit. Its alright though, we all know that your a bit of a space shot anyway's, you, and the rest of these weasel little fucker's around here, I mean hell, your just like a majority of em, cept, you actually can back up your shit, and you got balls the size of your fucking head. Even though, stupidity seems to run ramp id for you. Regardless though, it don't matter what ya think or do. You deserve everything that is about to happen. Everyone, deserves what is about to happen, See you at Adrenaline."

The scene ends.