The following promotion is brought to you by the former XWF World Television King, and future Lord of the Ring... The Cult Icon, Shawn Christopher.

"... Every thought you've ever had could be translated into computer language. Binary. On and off. Ones and zeroes. The universe speaks the same language - voluntary actions and involuntary actions, the ego and the atman, positive, negative, good evil, whatever. They exist in flux, and one never destroys the other. Some people go through life trying to create a "positive" life experience for themselves. They think positive thoughts and say positive things and associate with positive people. But instead of bringing them peace, these people end up being the most oversensitive, and generally unhappy people you'll run into. There is a weakness here; an inability to adapt.

And the problem with this line of work is that for the last decade or so, the ones have really really, really wanted to be zeroes. Everybody is a brooding loner who'll cut you the fuck up if you come too close. Everybody hates authority. Everybody is promiscuous. Nobody sticks up for Grandma and Apple Pie and the American Flag. Too hard, too lonely, too many people cracking you in the back of the head. But. It takes that much more effort to be a compelling zero anymore.

You have to become something that repulses even an amoral man.

I've been thinking lately, that I might be something unique to the world. Something that transcends binary. Something divine, in a sense stronger than a mural of Zeus on a cathedral wall, I mean. I've wondered if, even to a small degree, the world is made for me. And I would like to find out.

Good afternoon, XWF. If you haven't noticed, my name's Shawn Christopher. I have the following weaknesses:

• I'm difficult to motivate.
• I have a habit of underestimating opponents.
• It's hard for me to keep friends for a long period of time; I tend to view them as tools rather than people.
• My trust in a person is directly proportional to their ability to display humility. I'm easy to manipulate once you know this.
• I'm pathologically terrified of other men.
• I still live with my mother.
• I'm not sure I'm mentally prepared to harm likable people yet.
• I fell in love with an android once, and fell into a deep depression when a rival hit the self destruct button.

Now, a couple of those deep emotionally crippling bits of me are highly exaggerated and a couple more are completely made up, but fuck it. Take it, record it, write it down, build your wisecracks around it. It's the most interesting way I can handicap myself short of having my legs broken this week, partially because I don't think any of you could embarrass me armed with my mother, my high school year book, and a copy of my first promo, but mostly because I really can't bear to see you intellectual titans ramble about Vampires and see how many retarded jokes you can cram into one promo and/or treat your impending beating like a opportunity. People who do this always end up getting fresh dents in their heads, but strangely enough, there's always someone new willing to vault face first onto those train tracks. And although there are big names in this match, I'm not expecting anything to change.

The nature of this business is pretty set in stone. My signature on the contract of a major wrestling match means I've volunteered myself to listen a near-endless string of speeches about what you've done, what titles you've won, who you've beaten, what your mission is, blah blah blah. And that same rulebook would tell me to spend a month or so killing jobbers that either put out a pathetic effort or don't bother showing up at all, pretending to care about the World Title and absolutely NOT looking into the camera and acting like I'm going to be Universal Champion come Xmas Xtreme. All I got to do is make it out of a star-filled clusterfuck.

Win and You're In.

Put simply, all you long suffering veterans who hoped they'd get to crawl up from the sewers of their own mediocrity and sneak their way back into polite society thanks to this little population purge get to strap the gimp mask back on and suffer just a little bit more. I've recently gained an interest in things that just don't happen in this line of work. I'd like to see the unlikely happen, the transformative. And generally speaking, people don't vault to the top of a company in one night. This is partially for their own protection - nowhere to go but down and all that.

Let's shake that up.

There isn't too much in the way of threats. The Ryan Brothers are going to have to worry about inbred vodka pissers turning them into speed bumps.

As for the rest, well, the verdict is still out there

Centurion. Let's nutshell this one: you don't have the mental capacity to know what you're getting into, and you don't have the physical capacity to get out of it with the full use of your limbs. Professional wrestling is a fucked up business sometimes. There are so many places out there and the talent pool is so thin that practically anybody who shows up and signs a waiver form gets gnome tossed head first into the meat grinder. Can you imagine this kind of ridiculous shit in any other professional competition? 'Hey, it's cool that you saw MMA on TV. Put on these tights and this generic Affliction shirt, we're gonna stick you in a cage with Fedor on national TV. Oh and also? We're gonna give Fedor this big fucking brick, just in case he's feeling frisky.' 'Hey, we need a world sprinting champion, but we need to fill out a few slots, so we brought in Cletus from the sports bar downtown. Tuck in that beer gut, try not to scrape your thighs too loud while Mr. Bolt is warming up.'

Time will tell, I suppose, whether you take time away from your wedding and do something that helps you cement this tournament, of course this just isn’t going to happen if we cross paths. If we cross paths, you will simply be outmatched, outclassed, outsmarted, and out of reasons why you wouldn't be a particularly fucktarded stain on my windshield before you even get to pry open that fist containment mechanism you call a jaw. And with all that you still have a better chance of winning this match than this other guy does. So why don’t you do the right thing and tuck yourself into the fetal position until I'm ready to deal with you.

Now. Scream. To be honest, I don't feel like I really need to say anything to you. If I wanted, I could replay your promo and just add a little card that says "seriously?" at the end of it.

You came to a place like the XWF, pretty much oozing contempt for this place with generic "I'm here to dominate" promos that would have worked perfectly in any generic federation for any generic leather strap. Welp, time for you to develop a Plan B. I suggest you head for your nearest Wal-Mart and check out the toy aisle if you're looking for something shiny to distract you from those feelings of total inadequacy. You know where that aisle is, right? It's right next to the tacky mask you ripped your gimmick off from. Or is that Enigma's? Or yet Halo's? Whatever, I forget.

And that's without even touching on your origins. Take notes.

Actually, your first note should be that you don't get over here unless you talk like you have a stick up your ass, just ask Aldrik Ramsden.

But your second note should be that if I need a long boring history lesson on things I could not possibly care less about, I'll pick up a Ken Burns documentary - much better production values, and I don't need Grunting Fucktard to English subtitles when I watch it. I'll speak for the entire roster here when I say no, nobody knows who you are, where you're from, or what you were doing during your childhood.

But at least your not like Rage who thinks commercials actually help."

* * *

Shawn Christopher

Journal Entry #4 – November 16, 2009

"He’s got a nice family that Walter does. Nice house, nice car, nice job, cute if not pretty wife, and three healthy and lovely kids. The eldest is especially lovely and in prime condition. She’s just at the age where she’s just like a ripe grape. Pick it too early and it’s bitter, but pick it too late and it’s no good either. She is just right for the picking. I simply cannot wait for that moment. The first taste is always the sweetest.

That’s all in due time though. I want to have some fun before I indulge my sweet tooth. Walter sure does have a lot and I’m sure he won’t mind losing some of it. What doesn’t kill you only makes you stronger or so they say. Hell maybe I’ll even let them be afterward, they’ll all be dead where it counts anyway."

Walter Doyle

The food smelled good. Walter savored the rich aroma of the full chicken sitting in the middle of the table and the homemade mashed potatoes next to it. A hint of lemon floated through the air signifying his favorite kind of chicken. His wife knew him well. He smiled as he cut the chicken into pieces and passed it out to his family; drumsticks for Dennis and Julie, a small piece of the breast for Joyce, and he took a wing and the breast. He loved chicken and he loved sharing time with his family.

Walter said a quick prayer and the family dug in. He wasn’t overly religious, but he did believe in God. He wanted to be more faithful, but never seemed to get around to it. His parents had always said a prayer before dinner when he was young and it was one of the few things he remembered fondly from his childhood so he carried it over to his family. They didn’t mind, although he sometimes got the sense that they were just going along with it for his sake. Well at least that meant they cared about what he believed in if nothing else.

His wife had a smile on her face, but seemed rather tired. He wondered if the pills had anything to do with it. Still he was grateful for them because her mood swings were less severe now and her doubts and worries didn’t overwhelm her. She was happier now and able to spend time with the kids more often. In fact, the last month or so she had been particularly well and life inside the house was wonderful. Gone were the days of bickering back and forth over the smallest things like who’s turn it was to get the milk or who’s turn it was to walk the dog.

So when she asked Julie about her day he prayed for a good answer.

Julie finished chewing her chicken and replied, "It was actually really good. Class was fun. We did like these small scenes with a partner and I think I did really well. Also, I met a nice guy."

Walter raised an eyebrow, "A guy?"

"Why are you so surprised dad?"

He cleared his throat quickly to give himself a second, "It’s not that I’m surprised it’s just that…"

"You’ve got a big butt!"

That’s not what Walter wanted to say. Dennis interrupted and yelled out his little remark at his big sister. She gave him a nasty smile and stuck out her tongue at him.

Walter looked over to his son, "Dennis, that’s not a nice thing to say to your sister."

The boy just smiled and kept eating like nothing had happened. Walter knew he was only joking and he knew Julie wasn’t mad. They got along great and often bickered with one another for fun, nothing serious or harmful. He smiled and so did his children, but his wife didn’t seem too amused.

"So who is this guy?" she asked.

Julie noticed the low tone in her mother’s voice. Walter sighed; he knew his wife was going to throw a fit at the first thing that she didn’t approve. Just once he wished she could relax and let things be. He loved her, but sometimes he just wanted her to think before she spoke.

"His name is Matt and I meet him in my theater class. We’re going to the food fair this Saturday," she said as she stared at her plate of food. With a poke she shoved a piece of chicken in her mouth so that she wouldn’t be expected to continue speaking.

Walter looked over to his wife who had put down her fork. She didn’t look happy in the least bit.

"What do you mean this Saturday? It’s Eric’s birthday this Saturday. His first birthday and I want the entire family there for it. We hardly ever spend any time together and with you off at college now we’re going to be spending even less so we have to take these opportunities to be a family together. You’ll have plenty of time for boys later."

Julie looked up rather upset and turned to her dad for support. Walter noticed her pleading glare, but turned his gaze on his plate. He didn’t want to get involved. This was a situation he could not win. Either he sided with his daughter and pissed off his wife or he sided with his wife and pissed of his daughter. Instead he took the low road and let the women battle it out themselves.

Knowing she wasn’t going to get any help from her father Julie continued on her own, "Mom come on! I’m almost 19 years old and I’ve never even had a steady boyfriend. You say we don’t spend any time together, but we spend more than any of my friends. Most of them don’t even see their parents for months at a time. I’m an adult now and you need to start treating me like one. I’ll be home on Sunday and can spend time with Eric then, he’s just going to fall asleep anyway."

Walter’s wife was hearing none of it, "You’re not going and that’s final. As long as you live under this house you’ll obey my rules."

Walter grimaced a bit as his manhood was taken a shot at. Her rules? He always thought they made the rules together and with her wild mood swings he was the one lately who had been taking care of the kids. Now suddenly it was her rules.

Julie stood up and left the table yelling, "Maybe I should move out then!" as she went to her room.

"You get yourself a job first and then you can move out all you want," shouted Joyce as Walter squirmed in his seat.

"Honey, settle down. Let’s discuss this. Maybe we can have the party together as a family on Sunday?"

His voice was quiet and lacking authority and Joyce could sense that. She could sense when people could be mowed over by a sharp tongue and this was one of those times.

"Look Walter, don’t take her side in this okay. We eat dinner together and we all go our separate ways. I just want this family to spend time together and appreciate all that we have even if it means missing a date or missing something else that she thinks is important right now, but will realize is insignificant in the grand scheme of things. So please honey, support me on this."

Walter gave up and nodded, going back to his dinner. At least it didn’t yell at him. A noise from outside stirred the family to look out the window, "What was that?" asked Joyce.

Walter had no idea since he was sitting right next to her. He stood and went over to the window to peer outside. Their trashcan had fallen down again. With a sigh he put on his slippers and went outside to put it upright.

Shawn Christopher

Journal Entry #5 – November 16, 2009

"Fucking trashcan! I didn’t even see it as I crossed the sidewalk. Dumb Shawn, real dumb. If that mother fucker was more assertive I could have been made. Luckily he’s as big a pussy as he looks. I don’t know what the fuck happened with that serene dinner they had planned, but shit sure flew. Julie got mad about something or another and stormed off looking fine as ever. I’m guessing mommy dearest didn’t want her to see that fucking loser she met the other day.

I’m more surprised by Walter’s demeanor through all this. He sells insurance and shit to people like it’s nobody’s business, he runs his office effectively and smoothly, but here at home he’s helpless. It’s quite a sight to see a tiny woman put down her husband like that. In front of the kids and everything. Hell if I was Walter I would have slapped that bitch and put her in her place. Women need to learn their place that’s for damn sure. America’s gone to hell with all that equal opportunity and bullshit like that. Women as equals, now that’s a fucking joke. Don’t worry Walter; I’ll fix you just yet."

Dr. Pond

He sighed as Shawn Christopher told him a story about his jail time. Needless to say he didn’t paint a pretty picture. Jonathan knew prison was a rotten place and he had worked with ex-cons before, but Christopher truly belonged in prison. Jonathan wished he would commit some crime so he could be sent back, but he had gotten to know the man a bit since they’d started the sessions and he knew that was unlikely to happen. Shawn was a monster and a callous one at that, but he wasn’t an idiot. Far from that.

Interrupting him Jonathan quickly changed the subject. He had heard enough about the violence and sexuality of prison. It was getting revolting.

"So Shawn, I’ve been keeping up with PWE recently and I’ve seen you turn yourself around. You ever have a chance at the Strength In Numbers titles coming up. What’s changed?"

He looked a bit irritated that his story had been interrupted, but didn’t make much of a scene. Gathering himself he sat up and pointed to a notebook he had brought in with him.

"What’s that?" Inquired Jonathan.

Shawn smiled and held the notebook to his chest like a protective mother would hold her child.

"This Dr. Pond is my journal. You know I figured I’d try it out. It’s actually helped me a bit. No longer do I have to keep my thoughts bottled up inside until they drive me crazy. I can put them down on paper and you know when I see them on paper they suddenly don’t seem that crazy or bizarre to me. This and my new friends are probably the reasons why I’ve been having success in the ring. Of course, I don’t really care about PWE or my success in it. They keep writing me a check and I’ll keep showing up. I’m in it more for the fun than the wins."

Jonathan could imagine what Shawn found fun in brutalizing his fellow wrestlers, but figured it wasn’t a topic he wanted to explore at this time. In fact, since he had pointed out his journal Jonathan had found himself extremely curious to see what Shawn had written in it.

"May I?" he asked.

Shawn just shook his finger in Jonathan’s nose as if he were a dog misbehaving. "Now Doc, this is private. My eyes only."

Jonathan now found himself even more curious, "As your psychiatrist I would be required to keep your information private. So you see anything I see would be between you and me."

Shawn smiled once again as if Jonathan had said something amusing. "Between us? What are you implying there Doc? What if this is just embarrassing, private information? The way you speak it’s as if you think I’m about to commit a crime or something."

Now Jonathan had to see the notebook because that’s exactly what he feared. Shawn had seemed chipper lately and now he had found new friends, friends without names or whereabouts. Jonathan didn’t like the feeling he was getting. It was the same feeling he got when he swallowed something bad.

Shawn checked his watch and suddenly stood up, "Look at the time Doc, I’ve gotta be on my way."

"But we’ve still got twenty minutes!"

Shawn shot him one of his sickening glares and went to the door anyway, "I’ve got to meet someone soon Doc and I don’t want to miss her."

With a wink he left Jonathan alone. Jonathan wasn’t much of drinker but now couldn’t resist pouring himself a glass of scotch. He downed the liquor and grimaced. It wasn’t what Shawn Christopher had said to him, it was what he carefully chose to leave out.

Joyce Doyle

Yes, she enjoyed spending time with her family and yes she enjoyed having them all home. However, recently they had been having some problems so that’s why she cherished this time she had to herself. She had picked up Eric from the daycare and had a good hour before anyone else would be home. Eric was tired and went straight to his crib and was out in minutes. The rest of the time she had to herself to relax and unwind from the day.

Throwing her purse down on the bed she collapsed and spread out on the king sized bed. She had pressured Walter for ages to upgrade to the larger bed and had finally won. Now she could sleep peacefully without worrying about him rolling on her during his sleep.

Joyce kicked off her shoes and called for Barry. The loveable dog always welcomed her home with a hot tongue and a wagging tail, but today she hadn’t seen him at the doorway. After calling his name a few times she sighed, figuring he was being lazy. She couldn’t blame the dog because she felt the same way.

Joyce went into the bathroom and grabbed a bottle from the counter top. She hated being on medication, but it truly helped her and the rare side effects didn’t overcome all the good they did. She popped two in her mouth and swallowed them with water.

Feeling relieved she went downstairs to search for Barry. Joyce looked in all his favorite spots, but he was simply nowhere to be found. She continued to call out his name and felt a slight panic attack when she couldn’t find him. Had Walter taken him with him to pick up Dennis and dinner? Somehow that didn’t seem likely. Barry was her dog and Walter only put up with him for her sake.

The panic and doubts raced to her, but instead of feeling depressed she felt sleepy. Hoping the dog was alright she tried to head upstairs but couldn’t. Collapsing on the sofa she now struggled to keep her eyes open.

Now the doubt and fear raced through her body as she saw a shadow cross the room and head upstairs where Eric was sleeping. Shortly later a large man emerged from the stairs with the still sleeping child in hand. Although her eyes were half closed and she didn’t have the strength and energy to stand she could recognize the large man holding her child. She now knew her gut reaction to the man had been correct.

Hank stood in front of her smiling and holding Eric in his giant arms. He pulled a dog collar out of his pocket and showed it to Joyce. To her fear she recognized it as Barry’s. With a twisted smile he placed the collar around the sleeping child and with a low voice said, "You really should be more careful with what pills you take. Now it looks like I’ve got myself a new pet."

He laughed and pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket and placed it on the coffee table in front of the sofa. Joyce watched in terror as Hank left the house with Eric still sleeping in his arms. She tried to yell, but couldn’t get anything out of her mouth. As fear and doubt raced through her mind she finally succumbed to sleep.

Shawn Christopher

"To whom it may concern,

My name is really not important right now. Knowing it wouldn’t change anything anyway. You can just keep calling me Hank if that makes things easier for you. I’ve been watching you all for a while now. Such a nice and fun family just like the kind I always wanted, but never had. I think you’ve had things too good, too easy. I’m here to change all that. I’m here to show you just how privileged you all are. If you believe that then you’re just as dumb as I thought you all were. I’m here to have some fun and to play a game. I’ll be in touch and until then just keep this in mind. I’ve got your son Eric. He’s safe, for now. I’ll feed him and take care of him if you do what you’re told. If you don’t well maybe I’ll forget to feed him. And I would seriously advice you lot to not go to cops or get anyone else involved. If I am found out and arrested then your son will die. They will not find him and with me locked up, no one will be able to feed him. I’m sure that’s not what you want. So relax for now, I’ll keep in touch.

Sincerely,

Hank.

To Be Continued