Walter Doyle

Walter knew he was going to get an earful from his wife when he arrived home, but he simply couldn’t help it. Dennis had begged so much that he finally caved and stopped to get him some ice cream. Joyce would tell him that it’ll spoil his dinner that she worked so hard to prepare. Walter knew it and bought the ice cream all the same. His son had practiced well and the coach said that a starting position in the outfield was likely for Dennis. The boy was especially pleased as he inched ever so slightly closer to his dream of playing baseball professionally one day. Walter loved the fact that his son had high dreams and hopes, but he was quick to point out that he was still a child and should focus more on having fun. Walter always wanted a son and when Julie was born he was glad like any parent would be, but secretly slightly disappointed that he had a daughter and not a son. When Dennis was finally born Walter could truly rejoice and thus when the boy pleaded with his father for something as simple as ice cream the man just couldn’t say no. He’d deal with Joyce somehow; he always did.

As Walter pulled into the driveway and saw that the garage was up he frowned. He had told his wife a thousand times not to leave it up. It was like leaving a door to your house open for any stranger to enter and Walter preferred his privacy. He pulled the car into the garage and turned off the ignition. Dennis quickly bolted from the passenger side and ran into the house with Walter slowly behind him. He pressed the button to close the garage and entered the house.

"Joyce, we’re home," he yelled out more out of habit than anything. He wasn’t exactly looking forward to explaining to her why her son wasn’t eating her meatloaf.

Walter didn’t get a reply and breathed a sigh of relief; perhaps she wasn’t home yet. He took off his suit jacket and hung it over a chair in the kitchen. He noticed there was nothing on the table or in the oven and checked his watch. His wife should be home by now or else she would have called. Hoping against hope that she hadn’t gone into one of her fits and gotten drunk he entered the living room and headed for the stairs, but realized his worst fears as he saw his wife passed out on the sofa. With a sigh he approached her and gave her a slight shake to wake her. After a minute or so she finally came to. As she woke she looked around nervously as if she was searching for something. To Walter it seemed like just another of her drunken spells, but he quickly started to fear the worst as he saw a crudely written note laying on the coffee table in front of her.

After reading it silently to himself he looked toward his wife for some sort of explanation, or support, but only found angry eyes glaring at him. Tears welled up in her eyes as anger spilled forth from her lips, "This is your fault Walter!" she yelled.

He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. His wife sometimes went off the deep end and accused him of some horrible things, but to blame him for the kidnapping of their son was unheard of. His lips moved, but no words could escape his mouth. He was absolutely flabbergasted by his wife’s forked tongue. She no longer looked like the woman who bore him three children and who he loved. She looked more like a snarling beast about to snatch his heart out and chomp down on it.

"Great time you find to keep your mouth shut. Just like always I’m going to have to be the one to get us through this. Maybe we should switch pants in the house; I do all your work anyway on top of my own. You can’t even keep your family safe. You had to bring that thing here and now our angel is in the hands of that devil. Damn it Walter, you’re supposed to protect us from people like him. If you paid as much attention to this household as you do one of your clients we wouldn’t have this problem right now."

Walter stood there stunned. The perfect day he was experiencing had crumbled around him leaving only darkness in its wake. He had just found out his infant son had been kidnapped and the one person that was supposed to be on his side helping him was the one pointing all the fingers and throwing out wild accusations. He felt hot inside, a feeling he’d never felt. Maybe it was the heat of the day or maybe it was the circumstances of the day but as his wife continued yelling at him he felt rage like he’d never felt before. In a moment of weakness his hand reached out and slapped his wife.

She collapsed back onto the sofa with a stunned look in her eyes. Walter looked just as shocked. He had never struck his wife before and was one of those men that hated violence of any kind, especially spousal abuse.

Joyce held her cheek and her tongue as she glared at Walter with more hate than he had ever seen in his life. His hands trembled as he began thinking of what he could possibly say to Joyce to make sense of what just happened, but nothing was coming to mind. He had made a mistake of the gravest error and had compounded the already large problem.

He tried his best, but knew it was a failing action, "Honey I’m so sorry. I don’t know what came over me."

His wife shot daggers at him as she rose from the sofa and headed for the stairs, "It’s just the kind of man you are Walter. Keep this between us there’s no need to worry the children anymore than they have to be. We’ll deal with this after we get Eric back."

She left Walter alone in the living room still unable to explain what came over him. He sighed as his already fractured marriage split with little to no chance of reparation in sight.

Shawn Christopher

Journal Entry #6 – November 18, 2009

"Stealing the baby from that druggy was no problem. It was easy, too easy in fact. There was no challenge in it, no sport in it. Like the old saying goes it was like taking candy from a baby. It was like shooting an animal in a cage. Still, I had what I needed to keep Walter and his family in place. I’ll keep the baby safe and as long as they do what I say it’ll all be alright. I may be a monster, but still there is no reason for me to hurt this child. He’s just a means to an end, a very stinky means to an end.

With me in possession of their most prized possession I’ve effectively sealed them off from the rest of the world. Where can they now turn for help? Anywhere they go they have to keep one thing clear in the back of their minds; if I get caught how will they ever find their son in time? In that case his blood wouldn’t be on my hands. Starvation or thirst would be the culprit while my conscience remains crystal clear.

They may not like it, but they will do as they’re told. They may resist at first, but to imply potential harm to a child is something that a parent simply cannot ignore. There is also at least one good thing to come out of the child being in my possession. I’ve always thought about having another child of my own. The time is right and I know she wants to give birth to a son. I wouldn’t mind raising someone in my own image one day. Only time will tell however, whether this child will go back to his family safely or if he’ll be left to the world."

Julie Doyle

Julie sat in the theater seats of the classroom as she watched some of her classmates perform a scene on stage. Matt was among those she was watching as the group was reenacting a scene out of Macbeth. The class project was to put on the show at the end of the semester and right parts were still being decided, with most of the students vying for some of the more coveted acting roles, while the students who were in the class just for the credit didn’t mind working behind the scenes on costumes or lights. Normally she’d be center stage trying to outperform everybody to get the role of Lady Macbeth, but there was too much going through her head at the moment to attempt acting.

She was angry at her mother for treating her like a child. Ever since she started taking her pills she was confrontational. The two of them never had a warm and fuzzy relationship, but they had always gotten along. Now it seemed that they couldn’t go a day without arguing with one another. She knew her father sided with her most of the time but he never truly showed. Sometimes she wished he would stand up to her and lay the law down. She practically ran the house and with the medication she was on Julie didn’t know if that was such a good idea.

So deep in thought was she that she didn’t even notice when Matt came by and sat down next to her.

"Hey, why didn’t you get on stage? I thought you wanted to be Lady Macbeth?" he asked, bringing her out of inside her mind.

Julie turned to him and faked a smile, "Eh, I’m not really in the mood today and I don’t want to get up there and stink it up. Knowing Drumming he probably wouldn’t give me a second chance."

Allan Drumming, their theater teacher was one of those professors that made up his mind instantly. One bad performance and he was writing you out of the show and throwing you backstage to work the curtains. A failed actor himself, he now found it bittersweet to teach students who still had potential to be great actors whereas he was stuck in a job that he both neither liked nor despised.

He walked back and forth the aisle as he pretended to listen to what was happening on stage. In fact, he had spaced out about ten minutes ago and was now waiting until the class was over. The only thought that ran through his mind was the bottle of whiskey in his cabinet and his girlfriend he met over craigslist.

Julie noticed his spaced out look and suddenly didn’t feel so alone. She knew she wasn’t the only with problems and keeping them bottled up inside would turn her into someone like him. Julie shuddered at the thought of being like Drumming and immediately turned to Matt.

"Hey listen, I can’t make the fair this Saturday. My brother is turning one and my mother really wants the whole family to be there. Maybe we can meet up for a coffee or something on Sunday?"

Matt smiled and she instantly knew that everything was going to be alright, "That sounds fine to me."

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.

"I’ve got plenty to say about all of the unfortunates who will participate in this match. Before I get started though, I must first say that I’m truly disappointed with what I’ve seen from some of you thus far. So, I’m going to take pity on you, which may very well come back to bite me in the ass in the end.

We’ll start with the man who everyone thinks will be my downfall, and that’s none other than Rage. I’m not going to lie, there’s no point in it. I’ll be upfront and honest with you, Rage. Something about you makes me like you. Perhaps it’s your attitude on things. I’ve done some research on you, I know what you are capable of if you are pushed to the limit. You are a competitor to be feared in this industry. Your swift, agile technique has caught the attention of the wrestling world. But not only that, huh? Your quick, sharp tongue seems to have gotten you a lot of recognition as well. I like a man who can stand up to me in a war of words. Those who can claim to be on the same field as me in such a battle are a dime a dozen. In other words, there aren’t many who can say they can hold their own against yours truly. It’s a trait I like, a trait that’s hard to find. I’m the man with the Golden Tongue in this fuckin’ sport as of right now. No one has stepped up to lay claim on such a title as of yet, so I will be the one who will reach out and take it. If it’s a title you seek to covet, then by all means, fire back, my boy. Say whatever it is you want to say. I’m tired of hearing your praises, I’m ready to see some action.

So show it to me!

Make me hand over the title of Golden Tongue to you. Do something. Anything worth it. Give me a reason to lay into you again, shred you of your dignity and your pride.

I know full well that you want to come at me like you have the eye of the tiger and ready for this challenge. But this ain't a movie...

Your Rocky story is about to meet a tragic end.

Hey, you can always just stop and show the world how much of a bitch your really are.

If that isn't enough motivational, then how bout you take a long look at yourself long and hard in a mirror, much like you ordinarily do you strange looking bastard, but while doing it at this particular moment, think about what it is I’m about to say. To guys like me, you are nothing. I compare you to an aggravating mosquito. Flying around, looking to hit your target to feed off of whatever it is they offer. Sure, you will get lucky and outsmart some, but as time progresses, and your confidence begins to build, you will run into the one being who will be your downfall. That confidence will direct you onto a path of destruction.

You will swoop and buzz around as this individual watches your every move. You will plunge down, to take what it is that confidence of yours feeds upon, and this creature will SQUASH you.

That is your fate.

That is your destiny

This is your final chapter

Do with that what you will, Rage. Take it to heart or blow it off. It really doesn’t matter to me. Just know that you’ve been warned.

I do look forward to seeing if you live up to what people hype you up to be.

Scream was a name that I had heard would be a potential threat. You’ve done nothing these past weeks, but sell your own praises since nobody will do it for you. You can sell them all you want, ole bud, but I will not buy it. I'm unbiased, I know nothing of you, nor do I want to know of you. I don’t listen to what you have to say, because I simply don’t care what you have to say.

I will treat you like all the rest, kid, no mater what your pedigree here in XWF is. I have the opportunity to single handedly defeat a handful of the young stars of XWF, a opportunity I will take full advantage of.

I will walk you down a path of pain that will be most unbearable; intolerable even. I can also imagine you making the same mistakes I’ve watched others make on there return to the ring, only focusing on the biggest name, no looking ahead into what lays after that. That, my friend, is why you are not ready for the Universal championship match at Xmas Xtreme.

That mistake alone has cost you the opportunity and prize you seek. So when it’s all over, thank yourself for your mistake. Then, thank me for making you that much better, for preventing such an oversight the next time such an opportunity is handed to you.

MARQUEE!

YEAH RIGHT! NOT A CHANCE!

Have you ever stopped, and evaluated where you currently stand Andy?

It seems when were above all highs, we tend to forget that were up there. We tend to forget that there’s an entire world below you, trying to pull you back down to earth, back down to their level. All for the opportunity of one of those reaching hands, to climb up to atop, themselves. The moment we forget, is the moment we remember; how it is to be pulled down, your head ripped from cloud 9 where you though you’d forever hang.

I’ve been up there myself, and I’ve been pulled down and ripped back into a world of reality. A world that tells me, I’m not unstoppable. And I’m glad, I’ve been pulled down to realize that. You Andy? You've been in the clouds since you decided to climb back into the ring. You've been living the illusion, that nobody is going to stop you on this most recent return. What you don't realize is that the one hand reaching out for you, is the one hand that’s going to be single handily resulting in your down fall, quite the shame.

Sometimes we have to remember, how it feels to be down on ground level. We need to remember how it feels to stretch our arms out, to reach and pull down that man above you in the rankings. Above you in status. I remember how it feels, Andy? You too will remember how it feels, and once your down here? You’ll never forget.

You’ll be just one of those tuggers, trying to pull that new man down. The new man, that is me. By god, lay witness to my writings.

I will take what you have built here, your legacy and you’ll never get it back. No matter how hard you tug.

I must admit.

You’ve built up an incredible worldly status of yourself. Everyone, everywhere seemingly knows your name and knows what your about. Centurion, dare I say it you’re even a bigger star than the rest of the men in this match. But now, I really want you to think about that. I really want you to raise your big head, and open your eyes and realize the box you’ve been placed in all along. Because with even your star status, even your glitz and glamour? If you happen to stand across from me. I mean, who the fuck knew what I was about before I stepped into this match? Who the fuck, predicted me to slay everyone in my way?

Slim to none, barely any.

Andy; I’m not going to put on some kind front.

You’ll hurt me.

You’ll break a few bones.

You’ll draw a few gallons of blood. You will fight me and you will give it your all, but it simply won’t be enough. You’re a beast of a man, a modern day fire breathing dragon but the time where your body draws the last breath of air is soon coming. With the sword above the ring, I’ll slay you.

Next on the agenda would have to be the ones I’ve yet to see since my arrival, and that’s Raziel, Trent Gein, Black Death, Chasm & Marcus Enderton. Really don't got shit to say. Should any of you show in the next few days, only then will I grace you with my words. I will not claim to know why you have yet to show your faces since myself have showed up.

Perhaps it is fear?

Ah, fuck it. That’s all the time I’m going to waste on you.

One man though I will not count out, is Mr. Aldrik Ramsden. Honestly though, Aldrik, you do not stand the slightest chance against myself.

While you do have the ability, you lack what it takes mentally to outdo one such as myself.

You’re took laid back, too calm headed. You have to dig down deep and find your personal torment to be able to hang with someone such as myself. You have to use all of your pent up aggression, all of that rage, every ounce of that hurt. You laid back guys have the hardest time finding that side of yourself. You simply cant allow yourself to become what is you despise, refuse to lose yourself in your insanity.

That is why you kid, are not ready for the task of meeting with me in this match, I mean there is little doubt bout you winning this match, I mean come on, can you see yourself getting by Rage or myself? You're practically a jobber.

Guess you can see why I've already counted you out.

And then there was One...

How does it feel, Hunter. That when this is all said and done, you’ll be just another name to add to my resume? You’ll be just another name, who was stop dead in his tracks? How would it feel to be so close to completing your goal, your chance at the Universal title, only for it to be snatched away from you, by my hand?

You see, Hunter. Talk to statues, talk to your fucking therapist, mommy and daddy goodbye, cry over the current status of your loser brother, because in the end, not a bit of it matters. Nobody decides your fate, but me. I decide when to break you, I decide if I break you, and I decide where to dispose of you. I’m the man that can and will beat you, Hunter.. if you step in my way. You’ve already defeated yourself my friend, simply by taking such a cavalier approach.

You're a loser Hunter.

You're slowly falling apart, your wearing your faults on your chest like a damn bullseye

Hunter, I want you to evaluate the danger you’re stepping in, very closely. I want you to look down at where you stand—I want you to look at the ceiling above you. Now imagine, me wrapping my hand around it. Imagine your very foundations you stand on, shaking violently back and forth. Look up the roof; watch it as it caves it. Duck for cover, plan your escape, and prepare for your survival.

Hunter, if you cross me, it will be Nick who is worried for your health, as your struggle to stay afloat, struggle to survive..."

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