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D.o.M._2K9 presents: Episode 1 ------------------------------------------------------------------ {Saturday, March 1st, 2K8} {4:19 am} {Tempe, AZ} ‘Flick,’ the zippo of James Caine ignites as he lights his Marlboro Menthol. He replaces the zippo to his pocket and as he returns his arm to the smoke, he allows his hand to brush his favorite toy. A silver Hatchet, weighted perfectly for throwing, hacking, stabbing, or slashing. Caine takes a few drags and drops the cigarette, the cherry breaks but Caine puts a boot to the sparks immediately. Raising his right hand Caine takes a deep breath. ‘The Soul is ALL. Let not your body be a fetter.’ *Thoom, Thoom, Thoom.* “Who could that be at this hour?” comes a voice from behind the door. *Thoom, Thoom, Thoom, Click-Click.* “I’m coming, I’m coming.” the voice says as a slight click is heard, the sound of the lock, unlatching from behind the door. “JUST A MINUTE LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, I THINK SOMETHING IS HAPPENING.” ‘Weed War’ by ICP, Twiztid, and KMK begins playing over Caine’s cell phone and he looks down just as the man opens the door and sees the black silenced barrel of a .357 calibur H&K pointing directly into his face. Glancing to the phone at his waist for a split second before yelling a quick “FUCK!” The man uses the split second to begin to shut the door. Caine, jams his foot in the door and slams his shoulder through it, knocking the man to the floor. “Please, whatever it is I did to you… I’m sorry. I’ll pay you… Anyth-” the man says crawling backwards down a hallway. “It’s not me.” says Caine. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- One month… One Week… One Day… One Hour… One Minute… One Second… Life can change at any interval. One day you own half of an International Wrestling company, the next you’re putting bullets in the back of Phoenix’s most wanted liars, theives, cheats, whores, dealers, and wastes of life. In part, or mostly, because… you smoke weed. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- “FUCK, from now on the cell goes off, on the mark…” Caine wipes some blood from his face with a towel and drops it on the floor as he exit’s the home. James removes his glove and his cell phone. Opening the phone he doesn’t recognize the number.” “Who the hell?” James says pressing send, and holding the phone to his ear. It rings twice before a male voice answers the phone, “You still step in?” “That depends, who the fuck is this?” “Nate… Nate Sanders, PWE… I’d like to sit down and have a talk with you.” --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Nate Sanders? Who the fuck is Nate Sanders? PWE? Poor Wrestling Exscuses? I guess there’s only one way to find out… Let see how they handle my show. Are you ready PWE? I honestly don’t believe you’re worthy, let alone ready. I see less cameras than a local show in your arena’s… But this Nate says he’s got someone at his PPV that can hang with the twiztid one eh? Well we both know that’s not true… And so do all my psychotix out there, don’t cha? Yea, PWE has got nothing on me, yea. Exile? Nothing, Cobra, Quaide? … nothing. Not even worth my time… So why be here? I love to show everyone how it’s done. Plus, people I get to shut up makes me feel warm and fuzzy inside, if ya catch my drift. I will say that if they can pull off a decent hammerlock… then I might stick around…. But that remains to be seen. Nate’s hammerlock wasn’t bad, but he doesn’t get in the ring… then again… Maybe that just shows why he’s the brains of this outfit… You think I don’t have one eyeball over my shoulder PWE? Think again, I’ll have a few of em. That’s just another example… of me… throwing the heat… Are you ready to feel it? --}'Psychosis'James Caine 
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