Schmied vs Matthew Prince

Schmied vs Matthew Prince May 6, 2014 17:45:50 GMT -5

Quote

Post by Prince on May 6, 2014 17:45:50 GMT -5

Prelude

“Screwjob”

According to the Urban Dictionary, a screwjob is when “events out of one’s control causes one to lose for whatever reason. This includes and is not limited to outside interference, changes to plans without one’s knowledge and other similar events.

Sounds kind of familiar, right?

….I saw this coming from a mile away, and it still wasn’t any easier to swallow. I should have known that it wouldn’t matter how much training, preparation and mental focus I placed into this match. The outcome of it has been determined the moment the match was booked. It is obvious to me now that this company is in self-preservation mode and could not allow for a member of the Hell House to hold a title any longer. Despite the relentless anger I feel burning within my chest like a volcano upon the cusp of erupting, I only find myself pondering a
single question.

….How the hell did anyone remotely associated with the Establishment find out about the intentions of John Ojeda, TJ Codair, Matthew Prince and Nikki Blade? That simple fact alone tells me that there was a leak, a spy, a mole within the organization that is seeking to destroy the Hell House before it even has a chance to make a name for itself. No, I don’t think that this spy could be Darin Zion or Brian Hollywood. Those two are too busy juggling balls with one another to conceive such an operation. Darin would have to take Hollywood’s cock out of his mouth and give his jaw a rest in order to facilitate such an operation underneath the watchful eyes of my brothers and I. So, that leaves me to wonder who I need to string up by meat hooks in order to find out what elements are working against us within the PWX.

“Civil War”

According to Dictionary.com, a civil war is a war between political factions or regions within the same country.

We find ourselves approaching Civil War and the implications of this will stretch across every inch of the organization for the following year. The lines have already been drawn in the sand and it will become the choice of every member of this roster to decide which side they stand on. I myself could care less where you all choose to stand. My brothers and sister will see to it that we bolster our ranks; I’m more concerned about getting my hands around the necks of Darin Zion and Brian Hollywood. What happened at The Initiative was not an endgame, but merely the first shots of a firing war that will eventually consume the entire PWX.

Darin, keep that title by your side at all times, because you’re not going to be holding it for very long. There were four other people participating in that match. The next time, it’s only going to be you and me in the middle of the ring….and possibly even TJ. I’m sure that the two of us couldn’t pass up an opportunity to break that nose upon your smug face and shove that Hybrid Tile square up your ass. Gold? You know what gold means to me? It means that you’re proving to the company that A) you’re one of the best in this organization or B) you kiss the proper ass around here to get what you want. I absolutely refuse to be another lackey in this company ran by the asinine leadership of Brian Hollywood with his ball-washer Darin Zion by his side.

I will simply take what is rightfully mine. If that means removing the Hybrid Title away from the bloody corpse of Darin Zion, then so be it. Wrap the ring in barbed wire, place every weapon conceivable in the middle of the ring. Set the entire damn place on fire for all I care. I will face every single challenge placed in front of me. Put me in the middle of the ring with the entire PWX roster, or send some skid-mark known as Schmeid my way. Like the waves upon the shore I will continue to assault the ranks of the Establishment until the faction eventually crumbles upon its own foundation. I’m no fool, I knew from day one that I wouldn’t be able to make an impact within this company without having the proper support. I think being aligned with the likes of John Ojeda and TJ Codair certainly gives me a fighting chance among the cancer and corruption that is growing within the PWX. Nikki Blade isn’t hard on the eyes, either, and she certainly can kick ass and take names in the middle of the ring.

"HAM"

According to the Urban Dictionary, going HAM means to go ballistic on someone, to flip out and fuck someone up.

While ham is certainly a delicious meat that brings us such glorious edibles as bacon, we’re not going to focus on that. I’m going to go hard as a mother fucker from this point forward. With the Hell House backing me I am going to wage a war like never seen among the ranks of the PWX. I’m going to spend the next month defeating every competitor placed in front of me. I haven’t been actually pinned by someone since arriving into the PWX. My defeats have been due to a fluke decision and the fact that I was involved in a Six Way Dance. A match designed perfectly for the likes of Darin Zion, someone who knows that one on one against me would be shredded to pieces like cheap curtains to a cat. Why else would Darin have to make sure that Brian placed him into a Six Way Dance with Hybrid Title Champion implications? This would allow him to capitalize on the random chaos that can take place in the middle of such a match.

Besides, Darin, you should pray that it’s me that finds you first. TJ Codair….he’s a bit unhinged after the way things went down at the Pay Per View. I wouldn’t want to be someone on his shit list right now. Just remember this, Zion…

….Blessed are the dead..

Chapter I

Reflection and Rebirth

Trust was something that did not come easily within the man’s line of work. Being ripped away from civilian life and thrust into the world of Black Operations was something that didn’t happen to the average individual. The training alone would break the average soul both physically and mentally, leaving the individual with nothing but pieces of a mind and body that would take a lifetime to patch back together. For those that survived the initial ritual, they would find themselves broken along the same lines, but they wouldn’t have to struggle for a lifetime to put these pieces back together. Instructors from all branches of both the military and government would be there to shape and mold the operative like a fresh piece of steel out of the hottest forge known to man. Body and mind are hammered relentlessly through physical training and studies that would make a Navy SEAL shit his pants and reconsidered his options in life. Five years of PT, Range Time and Book Studies with little to no breaks until those in charge deemed the operator ready for combat operations.

Yet, all his training had left him unprepared for the betrayal he did not see coming. The hurt was still burning deep inside of him no matter what he did to quench in. After the falling out with Samantha and the events in Tampa, Prince needed some time to get away from it all. Booking a flight out of Florida had been easy for him. A disposable credit card that couldn’t be traced with a false identity was used to purchase the ticket and pay for his rental car. The flight had taken him out of Florida and up into the remote wilderness of Northern Canada. The woods had always seemed to bring the man comfort and he almost always had a safe house built there for when he needed to bug out and disappear from civilization.

Perched upon a rocking chair which was placed within a wrap-around porch, the man was moving back and forth in a slow, rhythmic motion. Grasped within his right hand is a Molson XXX. Beads of condensation originating at the neck of the bottle cascade against the glass and come to rest against the bruised knuckles of the man. Orbs of glass seem to be staring off a thousand yards into the forest that wraps around three-fourths of the property. Various bandages cover the wounds that protected wounds earned during the Six Way Dance at The Initiative PPV. The bottle of beer is brought up towards the lips of the man and he takes a deep pull. Setting the bottle onto a hand carved wooden side-table, he lets out a slow sigh.

An audible chirp rings from the right pocket of the basketball shorts that adorn his lower body. Reaching for the phone, he looks to the number on the Caller ID. He flips the phone open, listening to the sounds of the secure lines synchronizing together. The lines cease and a computerized voice states “line secure.” Matthew takes a breath and exhales, knowing who is on the other side of the line.

“Sokaris, where are you?” is heard across the line. The voice is deep and gravely, a combination of smoking and screaming at the top of one’s lungs. The words reverberate throughout the man’s mind as his eyes continue to stare off into space. “Not exactly sure, sir” Prince replies into the secure phone. “I meant your physical location, jackass. I don’t give a shit at the moment where the fuck your head is at. I want to know which safe house you bugged out to, because all the usual people I pump for information regarding you have no fucking clue where you disappeared to” the thunderous voice booms back into the phone. Prince should have expected that from the caller on the other side of the line, but his mind wasn’t exactly in the game.

Several moments of silence pass from the face of Matthew as animation and emotions begin to form upon his face. It’s obvious to see that he is currently a hurricane of anger and depression that is mounting to explode within him if he continues to ignore it. “Matthew, where the hell are you?” comes the voice over the phone once more. His left hand clenches into a fist while his right is starting to squeeze the phone that is being held against his ear. Trembling, he finally takes a breath.

“I’m in Canada. The old camping house we had during our tenure with the Third SOG” Prince replies into the phone with hesistation in his voice. He knows that the line to the phone is indeed secure, but he figured he should avoid trying to reveal his location to just about anyone. With Samantha gone from his life he figured that the Division would now be off his shoulders as well. Where did that leave him, exactly? He wasn’t sure. “Alright, I’m booking a flight into Canada right now. A buddy of mine from the Air Force is working up there now as a Bush Pilot. I’ll give you a call on this phone once I am close to arriving” the voice on the other side of the line replies and then goes silent. The old soldier was never one to be told not to do something. Prince knew that if he even tried to tell the man not to come, he still would.

Standing up to his feet, Matthew reaches for the beer. Knowing that his visitor would be on his ass from the moment he touched the ground, he figured it would be prudent to get the safe house cleaned up. Draining the bottle of beer, he steps around the porch and tosses the dead soldier into a recycling can. Walking back to the back door of the house, he opens the screen door and steps into the secure abode.

Shoutbox

Post by PWXonline on May 1, 2014 15:22:32 GMT -5

Post by Prince on May 6, 2014 17:45:50 GMT -5

Post by schmied on May 6, 2014 22:30:32 GMT -5

Quick Reply