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Mark Kingston

League Member
Feb 21, 2015
Richmond, Virginia. The town itself is a bustling coastal town, but downtown is a quick reminder of the economic downtown of the past decade: boarded-up windows, closed-down schools, housing developments never completed. On one corner, across from the well known Dave’s Pizza Joint and in the center of a former strip mall, sits a remodeled warehouse. Above the building, a sign hangs: “Pro Wrestling Gym.” The sign is clean, much newer than the building.

Inside the building, the air is heavy. Moisture droplets run down the side of the numerous punching and speed bags that hang from the pop-corned ceiling. A few benches line the walls and one corner is completely filled with miscellaneous training equipment. In the center of the building is a wrestling ring, complete with turnbuckles and ropes. The ring has collected dust on certain areas, but the mat itself is clean.

Mark Kingston leans against the ropes, his right leg hiked up on the bottom rope. He stares forward, out through the front glass doors, and out into the world. His mind is not in the gym.

Physically, he is imposing. Muscles burst from the skin on his shoulders and his calf muscles are like rocks. The brown hair on his head is trimmed short and his face is covered in stubble. His green eyes stare forward.

[Flashback – A Week Ago]

Kingston and his former tag team partner, Chris Sparx, sit at the bar of an Applebee’s across town. Sparx has a mixed drink with a straw and Kingston is sipping on a draft beer. The bartender asks if they need anything. They decline.

“Ever think about it?” Asks Sparx.

“Think about what?” Replies Kingston. He looks over at Sparx, who motions to a television across the bar. On it, two men fight inside a squared circle surrounded by ropes. Mark sighes and looks down at his glass again. “Hell no.”

“Why not? You get fat on me?” Asks Sparx.

“Hell no, bro. I’m in the best shape of my life. Shoulder is great, legs are strong. I could do it, but the mind ain’t there,” says Kingston.

“I hear ya, I hear ya. You see, man, unlike me, you have the gift of God on your side. You are a physical freak. I have to work to get a muscle on my arm. You were born with those pythons,” says Sparx.

“Yeah, well they are a lot of upkeep. I had my run, Chris. It’s over. REBEL is gone,” says Kingston. He takes a sip of beer.

Sparx sips down the last of his mixed drink and looks at Kingston. He shakes his head and says, “Look, man, I get it. If you are satisfied, I’m happy for you. If you do change your mind, there’s an event I just heard about that made me think about you. It’s a thirty-person battle royal called Battlemania. Guys and gals from all over the world will be entering. It’s like Bloodsport,” says Sparx.

Kingston files away the event name for later. “I’ll look into it.”

[Back to Present]

Kingston turns to face Chris Sparx standing across from him. Sparx wears sweatpants and no shirt. Kingston bounces off the ropes and then slams into him. Sparx falls onto the mat. Kingston tries a drop elbow, but Sparx rolls out and Kingston’s elbow hits the mat. He sells the drop, rolling around on the mat in pain.

Sparx, now on his feet, bounces off the ropes, returns, and dropkicks Kingston in the face. Mark rolls underneath the bottom rope and onto the gym floor. Sparx looks surprised, but then bounces off the opposite ropes, comes sprinting back and dives through the ropes.


Kingston rises to his feet just in time to smack Sparx in the face with a trashcan lid he had pulled from beneath the ring. Sparx falls to the floor like a sack of potatoes. Kingston grabs him and throws him back into the ring.

[Flashback – Two Days Ago]

Mark Kingston sits at his home computer desk. He scrolls through bank statements. He doesn’t find anything he is looking for. Kingston’s six-year-old son, Kyle, plays on the futon behind him. Kingston places his cursor on the Google search bar and types in: “Battlemania.”

Kingston follows the links onto the EFed Guerilla website and listens to the podcast. He straightens up in the computer chair as he looks down the list of competitors who have already signed up: MJ Bell, Ian Bishop, Michael Lee Best. The list goes on. For the first time in a long time, Mark is jealous. He wants his name on there.

Mark Googles some of the names on the list. Finally, he clicks on a YouTube video of Ian Bishop in a match against someone named Natedawg. "Acid Rain" by Liquid Tension Experiment plays over the match clips. Mark clicks back to Google and selects a YouTube highlight reel of Amber Ryan in CWF.

After the video, Kingston turns around in the chair and stares at his son. The six-year-old is playing with some wrestling action figures. He looks up at his father.

“Daddy, are you gonna wrestle?” Asks the boy, in his childish accent.

“What, son? Why do you ask that?” Kingston is confused.

“The people in the video, daddy, they aren’t as good as you,” says the boy.

Kingston gives his son a gentle noogie and a quick bear hug. The boy scurries off out of the room with his wrestling toys.

Mark turned back to his computer desk. He returns to the EFed Guerilla website and goes to the “Contact Us” link. He pulls out his cell phone and dials the number.

[Back to Present]

Back inside the ring, Sparx crawls across the ring and gets to his feet with help from the corner turnbuckle. Kingston is like his shadow and lays a big boot right in Sparx’s face when he turns around. Sparx stumbles forward, boot drunk, and then Kingston Irish whips him across the ring.

When Sparx returns, Kingston tries for his patented Richmond Lariat, but Sparx ducks the maneuver, turns, and superkicks Kingston right in the chest. Kingston grabs his chest and stumbles backward.

As Kingston falls into the ropes, Sparx rushes him. Sparx tries to clothesline Kingston over the ropes, but Kingston grabs the top rope and falls to the mat. Sparx flies over the ropes and down onto the gym floor.

Kingston jumps to his feet, “Whew, three out of four, bud.”

Sparx slowly gets to his feet and leans against the ring apron, “Nice move, bro. I think you’ve got a good chance in Battlemania. I’m so glad you decided to enter.”

“Thanks,” says Kingston.

Kingston puts his feet under the bottom rope and lets them dangle over the side of the ring. He leans forward on the second rope. He visualizes how the match will be.

Sparx grabs a Gatorade bottle from a table beside the ring. He takes a swig and then walks back over to Kingston.

“Whatcha thinking?” Asks Sparx.

“If I win this match, it would be awesome. I’m just gonna give it my all, though. Definitely spill some blood,” says Kingston.

Kingston smiles when he mentions blood. Many of his best matches were his bloodiest. From being choked unconscious with barbed wire or being thrown through a flaming table, Kingston has taken some hits. He has given his fair share, too.

Sparx slaps Kingston on the leg, “Well, man, I’m gonna get out of here. It’s been fun.”

Kingston smiles, “No problem, bro. Maybe you’ll come see my show.”

Sparx nods and walks toward the door. Kingston’s gaze returns to the gym floor. He thinks.


At home, Kingston sits at his computer desk. The kids are asleep and his wife, Crystal, speaks to a friend over the phone downstairs. Kingston stares at the computer screen. A blank Word document stares back at him. The small cursor blinks again and again. Kingston leans forward and begins typing:

BATTLEMANIA. I see it posted all over your Twitter pages with a hashtag placed beside it. Do you think the more rant about it, the better a chance you have to win it? Well, you’re wrong if you do.

You see, an event like BATTLEMANIA is like a good inheritance: it brings out the cockroaches. From ”hall of fame” roaches to mid-card roaches, they all come scrambling out of the woodwork scraping and clawing to get any piece of glory they can.

All of you fail to see what BATTLEMANIA truly is: the bright, ironic light of a bug zapper that draws in the flies. The light has been turned on. The bugs will all be there. Now, all that’s needed is a good bowl to catch the droppings. I am that catchall. I will be there to sweep aside the bug parts and smirk at the bright light above.

BATTLEMANIA has brought out many types of bugs:

First, you have the females, the bitches, as some would say. I respect most women. I have a daughter. Yet, these aren’t women, not normal ones. I think the flow tap is stuck on many of ‘em. Let’s see the woman we’re dealing with:

Emevlas Stastias, of Red Line, feels “remorseful” and “guilty” about her sadistic past. Ha! Remorse and guilt are the product of emotion, which is something you should lack when stepping into the right with 29 other vicious competitors. Good luck with your feelings. By the end, I think you’ll be “remorseful” about ever signing up for BATTLEMANIA.

Stacy Jones, of VOW, appears to be a woman who isn’t afraid of anyone. You’re definitely not the diva type, Stacy. You lack the tits for it. However, when we step into that ring, if you still aren’t afraid, I will applaud you. Then, I’ll destroy you.

MJ Bell, a woman of strong morals. The squared circle is no place for “heroes,” let alone “heroines.” I hope you are eliminated before I enter BATTLEMANIA, because if you are in there I might destroy your body, alongside your morals.

Eden Morgan, of UCWC, is a control freak who seems to go into uncontrollable rages. Remember what I said about the flow tap being stuck? I think Eden’s tap is working overtime. Maybe it’s time to call the doctor back about that hysterectomy.

Alex Morrison, the reigning WeW Champion, seems to have a similar mindset to myself. From the matches I’ve reviewed of her, she has blood orgasms. I wonder if she’ll feel the same way when it’s her blood covering the mat?

CWF’s Amber Ryan, a former carnie who has been declared dead. You have a wonderful list of accomplishments, Amber. Are you ready to add “Battlemania Entrant” and “Mark Kingston’s Bitch” to that list? You may tout the fact that you are in someone’s hall of fame or the longest reigning champion of whatever. All of those honors won’t mean anything when my boot collides with your pretty little face. See you then!

Then we have Reya Serra, who loves to carry around her Bible. I’m not a sacrilegious man, but I was raised to keep my beliefs to myself. Well, for once I will break that: I believe you are going to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. I will pray for a quick recovery.

Finally, Shawn Jessica Hart, who is the “FAILicious teste in wrestling’s nut sack.” For a man who touts himself as a testical, let alone one who has clearly overdosed on the hormones, I think Shawn Jessica has a good chance in this match. A good chance to break a nail, that is. Funny…

You see the type of scum that has entered this match with me? And that’s just the ladies! Let me roll through some of the “men” of BATTLEMANIA:

We have Al Envy, of New Edge, who loves to be loved by the fans. Good luck stealing the show with help from a fat-ass fan wearing my t-shirt. Next!

Austen Impact, also of New Edge, was in the race for governor of Pennsylvania. As a man from Richmond, Virginia, the home of the Confederacy, I will be happy to kick your Yankee ass for General Lee. Next!

Blue Suede Bruce, of VOW, who turned his back on his own tag partner. Nice job buddy, you get an A+ for loyalty. As a former tag team member, I must say: you are some piece of shit. I hope Josh Stewart shows up and kicks your ass. I might let him get a few stomps in while I have you in the Fucked Up Leg Syndrome. Next!

Eugene Dewey, a video game nerd who signed up for the wrong forum, next!

J.B. Ronie, a fucking clown. No, really, this guy used to be a real clown. Wtf? Next!

Dave Rydell, an army veteran. Thank you for your service. Maybe you should visit the National Guard, buddy. Your services will not be needed here. Next!

Derecho, who likes to tout his former glories, needs to live in the moment. You’re a has-been, my friend, and definitely no king. Next!

Then we have Amp, “The Living Legend.” Legend of what? Syphilis? Good luck with your shot treatments. Maybe you should consult your physician before entering this match. Next!

Matt Meyhu, who I’m sure is confident because he won the Boardwalk Rumble. Guess what? I wasn’t in that match. Did you throw out Aidan Morgan to win? Next!

Speaking of Morag, he walks around with a finisher called the “Golden Shower.” Wtf? Did Shawn Jessica teach you that move? Next!

Dexter Anthony, who wants to “make it up” to the fans. More like “make out” with the fans. Stick to your fantasy football league, bud. Next!

Speaking of making out, Mushigihara is a former sumo wrestler. I’m not sure how he feels qualified to enter BATTLEMANIA, but it will be fun throwing a man that size over the ropes. Will all the fans just please make sure to clear the area. Thanks. Next!

Lord Raab: this is the voice in your head. Please rethink your decision to enter this match. You are beyond crazy, pal. Next!

Scott Stevens has been a member of more companies than hookers that have been “golden showered” by Amp. There must be a reason for the consistent turnover. Was it hard flying out to those events only to take a dive? You’re past your prime, bud. Next!

Jason Orion brings a monkey to the ring with him. I find that almost as hilarious as the way JK, the self-proclaimed “Cyclone,” believes he has a chance in this match. Both of you should visit the office of our good governor Austen Impact. Maybe he can find you a spot as errand boys. Next!

That brings us to Johnny Raike, who won a deathmatch tournament. I wonder who were the entrants to this tournament: Amber Ryan? Al Envy? Obviously, not many people who know how to swing a trashcan or steel chair. Next!

Sammy Turner Jr. says his finisher is the “hardest, stiffest and natiest” lariat you’ll ever see. Let’s just see how it stacks up against the Richmond Lariat at BATTLEMANIA. You’re another I hope to see inside the ring. Next!

Then we have our two prodigal sons: Michael Lee Best and Danny B. Best was able to squirm his way into the HOW Hall of Fame by whining to his daddy. Pfff! Good luck squirming your way out of the Kingston Clutch. Let me know HOW (get it?) passing out feels. Danny B is the CEO or something of CWR and his biggest claim to fame is a feud with a woman. Sounds like my memories of high school. Next, and next!

Finally, we come to “The Incredible” Ian Bishop. Some people think he’s the favorite to win this match. Bishop is quick to assemble his professional resume for fans to gawk at. First ever this, hall of fame that. Please, Bishop, do you really think a guy that has accomplished “so much” has anything left in the tank? I think it’s about time you retire and start training the next generation of punks like you. Ten years form now, I’ll still be around to kick their asses, too. Next!

So there you have it, folks. The complete list of all the people I will be eliminating at BATTLEMANIA. As you can tell, this isn’t the best and the brightest I’ll be dealing with. From clowns and old veterans to schizos and Bruce Jenner impersonators, I think it will be fun when my name is called to enter the match.

When I do, you can bet your ass I’ll be carrying a staple gun, a trashcan, and my good ol’ barbed-wire-wrapped baseball bat. I hope this group of misfits does their homework on me. If not, they might find themselves with a vacant memory and a doctor shining a bright flashlight in their face. I bid adieu to you all. See you at BATTLEMANIA!

Mark leans back in his computer chair and smiles. He pulls up the EFed Guerilla’s forum, opens a new thread, and submits his post. He doesn’t want to see how many views or replies the post gets, so he closes the tab and stands up from the chair.

Walking down the hallway, Mark enters his bedroom and turns on the overhead light. He opens the closet door and pulls a cardboard box down from the top shelf. He places it on the bed and opens it up.

Inside lay a set of wrestling tights, boots, a bulletproof vest, and some various rolls of tape. A few random DVDs are strewn about and some old pictures line the sides of the box. Mark pulls everything out until only two items are left: a wooden baseball bat and roll of barbed wire. Mark pulls out the bat and sits on the bed. He smiles as he begins to wrap the bat in barbed wire.

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