Kevin "K-9" Watson and Derek Stoltz vs. Tyrone Walker and "Youngblood" Cliff You

[SteelCitySon]

Kevin "K-9" Watson and Derek Stoltz vs. Tyrone Walker and "Youngblood" Cliff You

It's a tornado tag match featuring the debuts of all four men! Go at it fellas!

 

[BWade]

Take The Long Way Home...

The scene is a sober one. A bitter sweet awakening if you will.

It has been a long time sense Kevin N. Wallace, Inmate 21392784, has seen the blinding light of freedom. He has spent the last three years of his life in a San Antonio federal prison.

Many ill faded decisions, along with the abuse of alcohol and many other controlled substances, have left him prone to a sobering awakening.

Along with losing his career in professional wrestling, he lost a wife to-be, and his, at the time, unborn son. Kevin, Jr., soon to be three, knows nothing of his father. He knows nothing of his rise to fame or less than graceful plummet to the bowls of hell it self.

Kevin, Sr., who originally was picked up for a misconstrued sexual assault charge, in the sultry slums of Trinidad, Jamaica after his explosion from CSWA. He was later extradited back to the United States on charges of grand larceny, possession with the intent to distribute, and a bench warrant dating back to 1996.

Kevin was acquitted of all charges, except possession with intent, pending a reinvestigation on the fire of which killed his mother, in 1982, when he was the innocent age of eight. Upon completion of this "reinvestigation," both old and new evidence proved inconclusive.

The state of Texas, in a last resort, prosecuted and convicted Kevin for his 1996 violation for possession with intent, and skipping bail. He was sentenced to a five year bid with the possibility of parole in two years.

Cut to: Flash back. The scene is set in a small six by six cell.

Two bunk beds, a sink, and a toilet, leave only enough room to shuffle two men, one at a time, inside. The view is distorted, blurry, and the camera work is very shaky.

<i>"...I'm sick of this ****! Everytime! ...the third time, and they STILL turn me down"

"Wait ... slow down, slow down now... In there all they have to look at is your jacket! You are your jacket, your file ... you have to look good on paper, before you look good in person homey...."</i>

Fade

Kevin, while in prison, has acquired a his high school GED, and a handful of collage credits. Now after his fourth time going in front of the parole board, Kevin N. Wallace has been granted his freedom.

Every dog has its day...

And today is his day...

Cut to: A seemingly never ending cell block. A large Caucasian man stands squarely in front of a small steel barred door, nestled in-between to center block walls less than six feet from each other. He yells out,

<i>"Open cell 12, C. Block..."</i>

A screeching buzz sounds threw the echoing, five terr section of a quiet, sterile shell of a prison.

Cue up: <i>"Take the Long Way Home" - Super Tramp.</i> The scene dulls to a gray scale, and drags to slow motion.

Kevin appears from the darkness of a damp cell with a nonchalant swagger, still moving with the same grace reminiscent of his late ring presence. His facial expression is one of gloom on such a glorious day. His once long knotted hair has been reduced to no more than black stubble barley covering his pale white scalp. He is clad in a dull jump suit and white ribbed tank style shirt.

He slowly raises his head shortly after his appearance from his now former residence. He glances toward the camera for a split second then his head hangs low once again.

<i>"...you'll be back *****!"

"Hey, hey lemme get ya' cigarettes ... hey ****a!"</i>

Inmates shout requests, demands, and taunt him along his long walk to freedom. The scene fades to black as Kevin and the guard begin there decent down the cell block stairs.

<i>"...you'll be back!"</i>

Cut to: A quick shot of the outside of the prison, set on a long and winding dirt road somewhere just outside of city limits. A prominent black and white sign dawns "San Antonio Correctional Institution." Dust and sand stirs as the large front door swings open wide.

Kevin appears from the dust amongst the mist of its hovering fog like presence. From the gray scale picture slowly emerges promising color, only to disappoint when all that can be scene is a organish-yellow sanded landscape.

Kevin with a small satchel, and the tattered cloths which cover his scarred physique, starts a walk down long road toward town ... which for an instance seems all to familiar to him...

He walks the desolate road...

...and takes the long way home.

The song fades with the picture.

Black.

 

[BWade]

Take The Long Way Home Pt. II (I'm Back)

Along road, weary feet, and a plagued mind...

One man, with only one place to go...

One man, with one thing on his mind for the past year and a half... One passion, mixed with a small glimpse of hope in a new promotion jump starting in the new year.

With the help of his long time friend and attorney Jake Goldstein, Kevin had been in contact with Empire Pro Wrestling. A make shift development deal between the two had been worked out. Kevin's return to the ring was less that anticipated. In fact the fickle fan fair of professional wrestling had forgotten his name with the change of the wind. It didn't really bother him much, he had much more on his mind.

Jasmine ... and lil' Kev, whom he had yet to even meet. This weighed heavy on his soul, on his mind ... on his heart.

Having that been said one may consider his next decision a touch naive, or even a bit cliche...

In Kevin's mind, it was time to prove to Jasmine, ... and Kevin Jr., he was a changed man, he wasn't street trash. It is time to prove he is the success he once was.

Kevin still pacing his way toward the city limits, scratches his head threw the long knotty hair, and stomps his way toward a new beginning.

Talking aloud to himself...

<i>" ... Time to start again, its still the same game, it hasn't changed. Its still ran by the same snakes, the devils creeping in the shadows waiting for just the ring moment to knock you down a few pegs ..."</i>

He grows silent, briefly.

<i>" ... The same green punks running around in the bright'an'shiney tights. All scratching and begging for a title. A pathetic crown of clowns, a twenty five dollar piece of leather, and a shellacked, overly decorative gold plated sheet of steel ... "</i>

He reaches his right hand to his brow, pushing his hair back and up out of his face. He rubs his face, and combs under his goatee with the same right hand.

<i>" ... Its still the same ... I can still handle it, it hasn't changed ... has it?"</i>

As Kevin's last words puzzle even him, a dust old car rambles down the near boiling asphalt, followed by a blinding cloud of dust. Once the sand and dust has settled back to ground level a dark blue 1962 Impala is revealed. Out of a well oiled piece of American history, far from mint condition, steps a conservitabley dressed man. He his hair as black as the tires of his vehicle, and eyes as blue as the Texas sky line. Kevin clearly knows who this is, yet says nothing.

<i>"Kevin, I figured you couldn't have made it to far ... though farther than I expected, but any way come on man hop in, we have to be in Philly by the nineth."</i>

Kevin, slightly perplexed by both the turn of events, and the words, this man speaks.

<i>"We ... ? Jake, its good to see you, but you know I've got to do this myself."</i>

<i>"I know, I know ... at least let me get you there, then its all you!"</i>

Though reluctant, Kevin opens the passenger side door and gets in. Jake follows.

Fade.

When the scene reopens, the car bales down a long stretch of highway. The shot opens wider to the inside of the car. Kevin, slouched back in his seat eyes half open. Jake poised and alert, staring down the long road ahead. Jake glances toward Kevin quickly then looks back toward the road.

<i>" ... Kev', Kev' ... ? you awake? Hey, well here is the run down, I've already spoken to the big man for Empire, all right. He has you set up in a match coming up in Philly."</i>

He pauses to recall the names of Kevin's competitors.

<i>"Its a tornado tag match, ahhh... Cliff Young, Tyrone ... ah Walker, and... I don't recall the third name."</i>

Kevin glances toward Jake and replays.

<i>" ... wonderful."</i>

<i>"oh, ummm... Derek Stoltz. Yeah, that's it. Those three, and you make four. Now its only the card opener, but you've been gone along time, your gonna have to work your way back up the ranks."</i>

Kevin pushes the hair out of his face and the scene fades as Kevin comments.

<i>" ... I don't care, I'm back"</i>

 

[spiffyneato]

ooc note - and here we go, let's see if turns out as good as it looked in my head hehe 8)

----

A not so long while ago...

Slow fade.

Entering into a bedroom we find some guy lying face down and unconscience on a bed. He's in only a pair of long New York Knicks basketball shorts and a pair of a plain white socks. From what is seen of his body he has many scars scattered all over his back and shoulders. History apparently wasn't too nice to this man that or he was kept in a Vietnamiese Prison Camp. But telling by his age he's too young to have even been around at that time.

It's about nine in the A.M. as in the morning, as in it's too damn early. At least that's the case for this guy. The clock on the nightstand by his bed goes off, but he ignores it and keeps on ignoring it for several minutes. Finally awakening him from his slumber he pushes up off the bed at arms length and stares at the clock with a disappointed scowl.

"The hell...?"

He mutters the words before slamming his hand down on to the clock turning it off and immediately flopping back down to his bed with a grunt and a few tosses he falls back to sleep. He looks so peaceful, at ease, too bad it's not going to last...

"Hey Ty... Ty... WHOOAH!!!"

***CRASH***

Bursting through the bedroom door like Kramer on Seinfeld except this guy doesn't just slide across the floor he slips on a seemingly well place floor mat and falls flat on his face like a clumsy putz. Welcome to the show, A.J. short for Action Jackson (don't ask). Ty, the one in bed who was sleeping snaps out of his sleep and see's his befallen friend on the floor and begins to laugh.

Ty - "Heh, heh...stupid!"

Ty points and continues to chuckle a bit while his friend scrapes himself off the floor and back down into the nearby office chair by a large desk that has all the typical and untypical things that a desk would usually have. AJ leans back a bit as he lightly rubs and pinches his nose.

AJ - "Damn dude. Oww. I think I broke my nose. Oww."

Ty - "Heh... You didn't break your nose dude."

AJ - "Yeah, I think I did... Oww."

Ty sits up and swings his legs over to the edge of the bed. Leaning over towards AJ he motions to him.

Ty - "Ya big baby, let me see."

AJ - "Oww..."

AJ leans in a bit and moves his hand. Ty takes a look and smirks a bit at that total wussitude of his friend before sticking his hand in AJ's face and grabbing hold of his nose between his left fore and middle fingers like the Three Stooges do.

AJ - "AAAAHHH!!!!"

Ty - "Dude your nose ain't broken."

AJ (muffled) - "Leh no! Ow doo you know?"

Ty - "Because it's not even dis-jointed or bleeding you moron."

AJ - "Ooh.. Den leh no..."

Foolishly Ty hangs on a bit longer than he should when he starts trying to direct AJ's head one way and then to the next when...

Ty - "Aaah.... DAMNIT AJ!!"

AJ - "Hah hah!"

...AJ blew a load of snot all over his Ty's hand. Ty wipes his hand all over one of the legs of AJ's pants.

Ty - "Nasty bastard!"

AJ - "That's what you get f***a!"

You might not clearly see the redness on the light chocolate brown features of Ty's face, but it's there and all the same AJ knows he just pissed him off and wisely he shoves Ty quickly and takes off even quicker out the room. Within seconds though Ty vaults off his bed and on to his feet as he runs out the door after AJ...

Ty - "C'mere you little bastard!"

Cut to elsewhere while this was going down.

The living room, specifically a long brown couch. On it sits a pair of women a young boy. The oldest of the three goes by the name of Ricki Stevens, she sits on the left. Her dark hair is tied back and she wears a pair of light pink pajamma bottoms with white and red hearts on them and a matching pink girly tanktop. The little boy whose just shy of five years old wears a pair of Pokemon pajammas sits happily between his mother Ricki and the other younger woman while he watches tv. She's only about nineteen, blonde and very nice to look at. Her blonde hair is tied back and wears a heavy navy blue sweater with "MICHIGAN" spelled across the chest in yellow block letters as well as a pair of matching pajamma bottoms. She by the way goes by the name of Cindy Lewis. The trio sit together watching whatever it is that is on the Disney Channel. Suddenly Ricki speaks up with an out of nowhere question...

Ricki - "So he knows that he got the job right?"

Cindy - "Ye...ah."

Ricki's eyebrows raise a bit with skepticism.

Ricki - "You haven't told him yet?"

Cindy - "Well... I..."

Ricki - "Cindy!?"

Cindy - "I just hadn't had the chance yet."

Ricki - "Oh...well, at least it's not like you got him a spot on their show without telling him..."

Surprisingly Cindy who is usually on top of such matters because she's really a cranky, bossy, nerd-like girl in a hotties body innocently looks away trying to hide the secret guilt of the truth of her foul up. Ricki picks up on it right away.

Ricki - "He does know right? You didn't just get him booked without even talking to him did you?"

Pause. Cindy tries to find a reasonable answer to this, but none are to be found on this day.

Ricki - "Did you?"

Cindy - "...Damn..."

She'd comment, but Ricki is pretty much stunned by the lack of everything responsible that is usually shown by her young friend.

Cindy - "I... I know, Ricki. I know."

Ricki - "I can't believe you... If it was Steve or even AJ, but you."

Cindy - "Okay I made a mistake, I'll..."

Cindy makes likes she's about to get up when she hears Ty hollar at AJ from upstairs and within moments of that they see AJ sprint through the archway and then the living room. For only a moment Cindy rolls her eyes as the chronically moronic AJ goes by and out another archway into another room.

Ricki - "Hey there AJ!"

AJ (waves) - "Aye Ric..." (zoooooom)

Cindy - "What did that moron do now?"

Ricki (sideways look) - "Look who's talking?"

Cindy (sigh)

Suddenly and almost right behind AJ is Ty who doesn't stop as he whizzes by.

Cindy - "Think he knows..?"

Ricki - "Why don't you ask him?"

She says with a knowing smile which is only responded to with another worrisome sigh. Meanwhile we cut to the backdoor leading out to a large patch of ice that is surrounded by a large drifts of snow and a hockey goal at the back end. AJ steps out first and hits the ice sliding around haphazardly with arms flayling. AJ stops when he reaches the goal and braces himself as he looks back to not see Ty behind him.

AJ (whiping his brow) - "Phew, I lost him..."

Ty - "Not so fast jackass!"

AJ (panicked) - "Damnit!"

AJ staring back across the makeshift ice rink at Ty whose stopped at the door way since he's still only in a pair of shorts and socks. Ty shivers as the cold air hits his body and AJ laughs and points.

AJ - "Hah hah, stupid! You're gonna have to freeze your nuts off if you want to get me!"

Ty growls and the just shrugs as he takes off from the door and on to the ice at full speed. AJ's eyes bug out and he turns to start scampering away but isn't getting anywhere fast and before he could get anywhere Ty was on him tackling him into one of the large snow banks. AJ covers up and screams like a girl as Ty raises his hand that is full with a big ball of snow... Ty about ready to splatter AJ's face with a snow ball or two stops when AJ suddenly blurts out the following in an effort to save his own ass...

AJ - "Hey guess what? Cindy got you hooked up with that new Empire Pro group and start working there in about a week!"

Ty (pausing his motion) - "The hell...?"

Cut back to the living room...

***Sound of a Door crashing shut***

Ty (from a ways away) - "CINNNDDYY!!!"

Fade.

 

[BWade]

Take The Long Way Home Pt. III (Bad Buisness)

"The Long Way Home" is tiring even with proper transportation. The beat up Impala is better than walking of course, yet Kevin can be quite the negative type, and has the tendency to make a bad situation worse.

The scene is one of peace and tranquility. Winter white fields and rolling hills as far as the eye can see. The vibrant sun shines half sunk down into the glowing skyline. The day all most drowned out by the onset of night. A near barren two lane road ascends and falls with every hill along side the wondrous landscape.

The blue Chevy Impala rambles by, and our view enters the car. Looking on, while both men face front, staring down the miles ahead. A thick white fog spews from their lips and dissipates into nonexistence with each word. Kevin reaches into the pocket of his tattered leather jacket and pulls out a semi-crushed pack of Newport's. His index finger routes around in the small opening of the pack until he can maneuver one out. He sets it between his lips, while flipping a zippo open. He lights, and as he exhales he asks ...

<i>" ...no heat? ...he brings the car with no heat, wonderful."</i>

A little aggregated Jake begins to snap back, yet he calms his self and the replies.

<i>" ... Well, considering it was Texas ... heat was of no concern at the time. But of course hindsight is twenty twenty, as they say? ...though, one must wonder, who are "they" ...?" </i> laughs, Jake. <i>" ...makes you think. eh?"</i>

Kevin obviously not entertained, nor amused, takes a drag of his cigarette and changes the subject.

<i>"How much farther?"</i>

<i>"Just an hour or so ... I've got everything already set up for you. We are meeting Dave Thomas at a sound stage in the city. You can do a quick little interview, let them get a few shots, a few sound bites, and we'll be set," </i>replies Jake.

<i>" ... wonderful."</i>

Fade.

When the scene opens back up Jake and Kevin walk toward a moderately sized building. Kevin lags behind a bit, in his same tattered jeans and boots, and a well weather leather jacket. Jake keeping a faster pace, is talking to Kevin, and keeps glances forward to be sure of where he is going. Jake tends to be a bit more concerned of the details than Kevin.

<i>"All right Kev', lets not burn any bridges here today all right. You know what to do, just do you, lets get something on film and call it a day."</i>

They enter the building, and as the door slams the scene makes a quick cut to inside. Standing close by, going over some last minute notes, is David Thomas in his usual EPW attire. He extends his hand, and its met by Jake's. Thomas, reaches to greet Kevin, but is left hanging and an awkward look is cast toward Kevin.

<i>" ...How you guys doing this evening? David Thomas."

"...Can't complain, I'm Jake Goldstien, and this is of course Kevin Watson." </i>replies Jake as he points toward Kevin.

<i>"Alright, well why don't we go ahead and just get started. We've got a simple back drop set up over here, let me just ask you a few questions, and we'll edit this all up for a nice promo, to air for the show."</i>

As they make they're way to the set, they scene grows dull and fades to gray scale, then static.

Cue Up: "Take the Long Way Home" by Supertramp

Cue Up: Slow motion. A near vintage clip of Kevin, a tad younger, in Japan with an unknown combatant. Kevin lies on his stomach, whole the other man wrenches back on his leg a scorpion death lock. Kevin's face is busted and bleeding, his hair stained blood red, as is the white athletic tape wrapping his hands and forearms. He reaches out for the ropes with desperation, his facial expression is one of pain and agony.

Cut to: Slow motion. Kevin and his brother in the MWC double teaming another unknown man, and Kevin taking the pin. They snatch the tag titles after the bell and hold them high in the air.

V/O: A long road to walk ... many triumphs, many victories ... many mistakes, many defeats... a long road to walk...

Cut to: David Thomas and Kevin Watson on the previous set.

David Thomas: <i>"You've been all over the country, all over the world ... what are some of you most prominent memories?</i>

Kevin Watson: <i>"A six by six cell, steel bars ... blue denim shirts and jeans ... how 'bout you?"</i>

Cut to: Slow motion of Kevin walking out of the CSWA locker room for the last time.

Cut to: Kevin sitting in a dark shack of an establishment, tipping back a dingy glass full of brandy.

V/O: With a journey this long ... a trip up and down the same road this hard ... what would you do?

Cut to: David Thomas and Kevin Watson.

David Thomas: <i>"It has been quite some time sense you've been in the squared circle, are you still physically fit, do you still consider yourself an ample competitor?
</i>
Kevin Watson: <i>" ... two decades of your life drowning in this sess pool of a profession ... its not something that leaves you...</i>

David Thomas: <i>"Three fierce competitors, along with yourself will face off in a tornado tag match on Aggression, your thoughts?"</i>

Kevin Watson: <i>" ...never met any of these men, never seen them in the ring, never heard any of their names. I'm jus' ready to get back in the ring, and get this started ... " </i>

David Thomas: <i>"Your ... ah, well documented bad habits ... will that have an effect on your return?</i>

Kevin Watson: <i>"I don't see where that is relevant. I've been in and out of more colissiums, gyms, armories, halls, and convention centers than most of these "johnney come latleys will ever, or have ever seen... I've been to more countries, states, cities ... continents, than they will ever see ... from pillar to post, and back all over again, I've won some, I've lost some. I found my brother, I lost my brother... I found a wife, a family, a real family... a life outside of this, and lost it ... I've thrown it all away, now its time to find that again, to take my life back. Time to right my wrongs, if you will ... a mistake is only a mistake if one never learns from it, and this time around... I know what I' have to do.... so I don't see where "bad habits" are relevant, nor your, and any on else's business but my own..."</i>

Cut to: Kevin and his ex fiance Jasmine James, leaving a CSWA event several years ago, accompanied by Nemesis, and Alan Tasker.

V/O: A man with something to prove ... a man with something to reclaim... A man in the mist of desperation and drive to find his life, to find his family ... to find him self...

Cut to: David Thomas and Kevin Watson.

David Thomas: <i>" ... you mentioned you ex fiance? Could you enlighten us on Jas ...</i>

Kevin is enraged, leaping from his seat and tossing it across the sound stage. He pushes the hair from out his face, and points his finger in the face of Thomas, screaming ...

Kevin Watson: <i>" You don't say that name! NO ONE says that name! ... Your tongues are not pure enough to speak of such GRACE!
</i>
Kevin storms out, the scene winds down to slow motion as he stomps out. Jake throwing his hands up.

V/O: What could happen next...? Empire Pro ...Aggression live in Philadelphia

 

[Drezzy]

Who will survive, and what will be left of them?

OOC NOTE: Sorry for the shortness of this. I'm not used to typing on the actual RP boards, because I haven't done it in years, so bare with me, fellas.

WebLog #125: Empire Pro Debut
Well, it's been a tough couple of weeks for the Front Line Family. Jesse's brother Kage came calling again, and the two of them haven't been on good terms since Kage turned his back on Jesse and me in the SWA three and a half years ago. I can't say I blame Jesse for not accepting Kage's apology, but I knew where the kid was coming from. He had a chance to make a huge name for himself in this business, and he took it. Besides, Jesse hasn't always been the most loyal person I've known, so him hating Kage still for that incident is somewhat hypocritical. Jesse will be working a Battlefield match against our protege Andrew Crow at the Zero Hour Wrestling New England show on February 13th in Manchester, New Hampshire (for those that do not know what a Battlefield match is, it is basically a Last Man Standing match, only in a no-ropes barbed wire ring).
Who else to report on? Corey Lazarus lost his HiC Tempest title to Brian Mitchell this past week after being distracted from Ethan Evans and Nightmare, who beat down O'Keefe and Sanchez before they could take their commentator positions. Laz has told me that if he's losing to somebody that isn't half the wrestler he is because an enemy is merely at ringside, then he needs some time off to train and make sure it will never happen again. Expect "The Premiere Attraction" to be back in High Impact Competition by the time Rumble In The Bronx goes down, if not sooner.
As for me, well, you all saw my match with Thunderwolf at AOWF Final Notice. I'm not proud of the pure violence we inflicted upon each other, but that was our first ever meeting against each other in the ring, in any form, and some of the things he said about my career got to me. Dustin, I know you're reading this pal, and I'd like to say I'm sorry for limiting your chances of having a fifth child.
What else is up for "The Youngblood"? Well, Joseph is starting to mumble what could be considered words (keep in mind that Joseph is barely a year old), Krystle is loving her pre-school classes, and my wife Tina is somewhat angry with me. Why? Because I decided to go out drinking with Jesse one night when she wanted to just lie down on the couch with me and watch Evil Dead[/i]. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorn for Bruce Campbell. My wrestling career is picking up as well. It appears that after my showing at Final Notice, several rising companies from around the United States have been calling my house, dropping me e-mails, and trying other various forms of contacting me (including my messageboard at this very site) to get me to come to their promotion. I will be debuting for the Empire Pro Wrestling company sometime next week in a Tornado Tag match against Kevin Watson and Derek Stoltz while teaming with Tyrone Walker. Admittedly, I don't know much about any of them, but Derek Stoltz sounds familiar. Maybe he was in Lights Out Wrestling when Andrew Crow was as well? Whatever. I'm sure my 17 years of being involved in professional wrestling will help me and Tyrone Walker come out the victor. Now fade out...[/i]

...START TRANSMISSION...

[The scene opens in a driveway. There is a snow-covered Hum-V sitting in it, the ground covered with ice and snow, the flakes falling from the sky and covering the black concrete with a white blanket. The camera pans around 180 degrees, revealing a house. The aluminum siding is painted a light green color, with the shutters being a pale white. The camera zooms in on the address, plaqued above the front door: 182 Old Main. The scene then cuts to inside of the house, walking down what is presumably the basement steps. A raspy-yet-soothing voice is heard coming from the destination of the basement itself...]

Voice
"One more..."

[The cameraman makes it into the basement, and pans around, noticing the dark mahogany walls, bookcases filled with various framed photographs and trophies and championship belts, and a television set on an ancient entertainment center, a VCR resting atop it with a tape in it. The images on the TV are of a wrestling match, and the sound of clanging metal can be heard from elsewhere. The camera pans around, focusing on a man lying down on a weight bench, benching a barbell with several weights attached to each end.]

Man
"...done! Woo!"

[The man places the barbell back onto the bars supporting it, letting it slide down, and then slowly sits up, wiping the sweat from his face with a black towel. He has shoulder-length, dirty blonde hair, a neatly trimmed goatee, and piercing blue eyes. Shirtless, his well-built torso shows a collection of scars, most likely from barbed wire judging by their shapes and sizes, along his belly. His arms are massive, but not well defined to the point that most other men that work out will work for. On his right bicep is a tattoo of a Gothic-style cross, and one of barbed wire around his left bicep. He is wearing a pair of gray Adidas exercise shorts, and is barefoot save for black athletic tape around his right ankle. Cliff Young...]

Cliff
"Oh, hey. Didn't know you'd be here already. I guess Tina let you in, eh? Figures."

[Cliff sighs deeply, wiping the sweat from his brow with the black towel again.]

Cliff
"Now, see, let me tell you a little bit about myself. I've been in this business for 17 years. I've seen greatness come, and I've seen greatness go. I've won more titles than most of this roster could ever dream of COMBINED. And now I'm looking for that second chance to prove myself to the world. That's it. I've been called an 'old man trying to relive his glory' so many times that I can't even remember where I lost count. I don't really want to say too much, so I just figured I'd say my piece and that's that. Now fade out..."

[The scene fades to black as Cliff lies back down, grabbing the barbell...]

 

[spiffyneato]

"CINNDDYY!!!"

And we're back...

Cut immediately to the old brown couch where Ricki Stevens, her son James and the seemingly in trouble Cindy Lewis sit. Ricki and Cindy both look out towards the direction of the voices origin. Cindy looks to Ricki.

Ricki (blankly) - "I think he knows now."

Cindy (rolls eyes) - "Gee thanks for the update."

Ricki - "Anytime."

She says with a wink and a smile. Cindy gets up from the couch willingly to meet her doom head on. As she passes through the archway heading into the kitchen you see the tension in her attitude give way to the more familiar *****y side of her personality. Finally she comes face to, well, chest with her none to happy counterpart who is still wet and shivering from being out in the cold and of course tackling his buddy into a drift of snow. Cindy stands tall and fearless against the wall of pissed offness staring back down at her.

DING DING LETS GET READY TO RUMMMMMBLLLLLE!!!

Ty - "The f**k are you doing?!?"

Cindy (almost annoyed) - "Getting you off your lazy, good for nothing ass!"

Ty simply blinks almost like he's stunned into silence, but that won't last for long.

Ty - "Uh...what?"

Cindy - "All you've done is mope around like a worthless bum for the last five months since you left the WWA."

Ty - "And where the hell do these Empire guys come in?"

Cindy - "You keep talking about wanting to get a fresh start somewhere new and well Empire Pro is pretty damn new isn't it?"

Ty - "So what?"

Cindy - "So you been (finger quotes) "thinking about it" but like I said you're too damn lazy to be bothered with actually contacting them."

Ty - "Do you have a point?"

Cindy - "That's all you have been doing is thinking and talking about doing it. But of course you haven't got the balls to take the initiative so I decided to do it for you."

Ty (sneering) - "Gee isn't that spunky of you!"

Cindy - "Yes, it is and by the way you're expected in Philly on the 10th."

Ty - "Yeah well...WHAT?!? That's...that's..."

He counts the days in his head while trying to even remember what day it is right now.

Cindy - "Was it too hard for you to understand? Or do you not know how to get to Philidelphia on your own?"

Ty (agrivated) - "Shutup! I know..that's f**king like a week away!"

Cindy - "Gee can't get anything past you can we?"

Ty (growling) - "Wait... How did I not get a notice from these people? What kind of bulls**t mickey mouse deal is this place?"

Cindy - "Just a shot in the dark. But have you checked your voice mail lately?"

Ty - "Damnit!"

Cut to inside Ty's room as he bursts in through the door and begins rumaging through various clothes that are strewn around the floor and anywhere else until finally he finds it.

Ty - "AH HAH!"

Grabbing up a pair of grey cargo shorts he rips open one of the pockets and pulls out a cell phone. He quickly dials a series of numbers and then punches in a couple more.

Cell Phone - "You have... Two, Hundered, and Fifty, Three Messages..."

Ty - "Holy s**t!!"

Coming up from behind is Cindy and the returning AJ who is equiped with a towel as he dries himself off from the snow bath he was in earlier.

Cindy - "What now?"

Ty - "Heh... I got two hundered and fifty three messages on my voice mail box."

AJ - "Whooah, sweet!"

Cindy - "Stupid is more like it. Don't you ever check that?"

AJ - "Hell no woman, don't you know this man is harassed by hundereds, even thousands of desperate women nation-wide looking for love from the big ol' blackaconda?!?"

AJ gyrates his hips and does a couple pelvic thrusts in Cindy's direction. Ty ignores them and proceeds with searching for the notice from the Empire Pro offices.

Cindy (shoving AJ) - "Ugh get away from me you pig!"

AJ - "Hee hee... You know you want to have some of this, there's a reason they call me Action Jackson!"

Cindy - "Yeah it's because the only Action you're getting is beca..."

Ty - "Hey, shutup. I'm trying to hear this, damn!"

They both quiet down, Cindy and AJ both giving upset child-like tantrum faces. Ty grumbles a bit as continues to go through message after message until after about twenty of the two hundered plus messages pass the one he's looking for comes up.

Cell Phone - "Hello, Mr. Walker this is Paul Freeman of Empire Pro Wrestling. We received your contract from the WWA and it's affiliate CCW through your personal assistant..."

Ty simply looks back at Cindy who stands by idlely.

Ty - "Personal Assistant, eh?"

Cindy (shrug) - "..."

Cell Phone - "...We trust that any and all matters between yourself and the alliance have been worked out and that there will be no complications with your transfer to Empire Pro. We welcome you to the company and will have you set to debut on the tenth of February in Philidelphia, Pennsylvania."

The message ends and after the push of a few buttons Ty clicks the phone shut and lightly tosses it on to the desk. He spins left on his heel and faces his compadres.

Ty - "Well, that's that I suppose. So, Ms. Personal Assistant..."

Cindy - "Yes, Mr. Walker?"

Ty - "Who the hell told you you could hijack my career?!?"

Cindy (rolling eyes) - "Do we really have to go over this again..."

And for now all is well. Walker is on his way back and things just might pick up yet again. But for now we take our leave before this errupts once again.

Fade.

 

[BWade]

Take The Long Way Home Pt. IV (Almost There)

Denial. It can rip a man apart. Depression, self pity ... An emotional breeding ground for disaster, and mental break down. Kevin had always teetered on the verge of insanity, some say it was the drugs, some the alchol, some say it was just him. The true reasoning behind Kevin's actions, decisions, and choices have yet to be seen. One therapist described to authorities "to crawl around in his head would be an acid flashback from hell."

Either way ... Kevin still, for the most part, functions as a normal human being threw out his day to day operations. Kevin lies a king size hotel bed surrounded by a cliche scene of a hotel room. Kevin's eyes are slightly cracked, and the scene fades into a dream sequence.

A dark misty cloud of black smoke and sutt wafts threw the line of sight as torrid screams and crying can be heard. The view zooms in on one corner of what appears to be a room. A small child cowering in the corner, knees to chest, head sunk low in his lap crying.

A slew of voices and different comments can be heard fading in and out each second, some over the lapping the previous.

<i>"You'll never be anything! You or your brother ... just like you FATHER!"

"You have the right to remain silent ... "

"Open Cell bl ..."

"Yes, ... yes, Kevin I'll marry you ... "

"Son, ... Son, ... can you hear me ... your mother, she ... she's de..."

"FIVE YEARS! ..."
</i>
The last voice begins to laugh and a whole chorus falls in behind as the sound of a gavel it slammed down on a bench. The sound continues ... bam ... bam ... bam...

Kevin snapping out of this dream with the last slam, realizes the beating sound is coming from the door. He pushes the hair back out of his face, and rubs his eyes.

<i>"Come in..."</i>

The door swings open and Jake Goldstien makes an entrance. His attire is normal, full suit and tie, 'JG' cuff links, a leather shoes. Jake strides into the room with his usual confidence and aurora.

<i>"I thought you were going to hit the gym... ?</i>

Kevin still rubbing his eyes and yawning, looks up toward Jake with a discouraging look.

<i>"I fell asleep ... "</i>

<i>"You need to be preparing from this match Kev', I don't think you taking this very serious at all!"</i>

Jake in a sincerely concerning and professional manner, attempting to reason with the unreasonable.

<i>"I spent the last three years in prison Jake, what the hell do you think I did every day? ...eat, sleep, and work out. Its prison Jake your options are limited.
</i>
Jake replies, growing quite irritated with Kevin's attitudes.

<i>"Well NO one told you to get arrested, and go TO prison."

"They country club was all full..."

"Yeah, make jokes, laugh it up ... don't forget your on parole ... and the only reason you have permission to leave the state of Texas is because you have the privilege of superb representation..."</i>

Kevin smirks, and shrugs it off. He walks to the bathroom sink which sits in plain view of the rest of the room. He turns on the faucet, giving the water a second to warm up and then begins splashing his face. He reaches for a towel and wipes his face dry.

<i>"No, word on Stoltz?"

"Not one."

"Wonderful. First pair me with some son of a *****, I've never once heard of ... and now he has yet to show his face. Life is good, 'eh?"

"Yeah, perfect. Any way ... attire, I'm assuming you didn't keep up with any of your gear while in prison, what are you going to need?"

"Knee pads, athletic tape, elbow pads, and a bottle of jack."

</i>Jake heads for the door, as he is opening it, Kevin shouts one more request as he pushes the hair out of his face.
<i>
"And a pair of electric clippers..."
</i>
Fade.

 

[spiffyneato]

ooc - man this was fun and it's been a while since it was fun for me to write anything.

==========

***RAAAAAHN, RAAAAHN, RAAAAAHN***

"Unngh..."

Fade.

The blaring digital alarm clock that welcomes us reads eleven thirty seven a.m.

Welcome to the home away from home of all wrestlers.

A hotel room.

This one is your standard, everyday hotel room. Two beds, a nightstand between them, a small table with matching chairs and a couple other cushy looking chairs. And of course one large window at the opposite end of the door to the room. The nightstand is covered with the usual things like a lamp, a clock and a phone as well as the unusual, a less than half empty bottle of Moon Mist Faygo and a set of three medicine bottles.

In the room is a single person whom lays across the length of the bed with a leg hanging off the edge towards the other bed. This man stands six feet, two inches tall and goes about two hundered and thirty or so pounds. He wears a pair of black and blue knee length basketball shorts and white socks that are loose and twisted on his feet. His upper half remains bare and shows off the scars that are scattered over his chest and arms.

Welcome back to Ty Walker's world.

"F**king hell!"

He groans out the exclamation as he sits up and grimaces in pain as he tries to work out the various kinks from his right shoulder to his lower back and his aching knees.

Popping the tops off the pill bottles he shakes out a some of each until he's got a pile of them in his hand. He scowls a bit at them as he thinks to himself "I hate choking these f**kers down!" He pops the entire lot of what was in his hand and then grabs the bottle of soda and takes a large chug knocking back the pills down his gullet. After another large gulp he empties what was left of the bottle and tosses it aside.

The alarm clock continues to blare away with it's annoying half ringing, half siren like sound. Walker reaches towards it and tries pushing a button, any button that will shut it off, but to no avail and he just decides to grab it be the cord and violently yank it from the wall. He releases a heavy sigh before dropping the clock to the floor and stretching his arms out as he looks to the window and the outside light that pours into the room through the slit in the curtains.

Getting up from the bed he walks towards the window with a slight limp in his step as moves along gingerly. It takes a bit of time for his body to loosen itself up. Reaching the window he pushes open the curtains and clamps his eyes shut as the light floods into his eyes. After a short bit he manages to focus his eyes and looks out into the open sky that is grey and dreary. He yawns and stretches out once more before starring back out through the window.

His mind begins to wander... He reflects.

(inner thoughts) "Back in Philly. Haven't been here in a long time, not since...since '99 or was it 2000 doesn't really matter. It was a hell of a time when it was just us in the crew rollin' with Johnny Mac's CWF on tour out of Florida. Tthose were the days. Everything was simpler back in the day. No expectations weighing me down like a monkey on my back, I was free back then. No pressure. No problems. Just hang around on the beaches of Miami like I was Tommy Vercetti by day and by night the boys hit the arena and we drop some fools like a bad habit."

"Where did those days go, eh? Has it really been five years since the days of getting beat down and bloodied on a nightly basis? That was pain of a whole 'nother level. Some f**kers think they're hardcore because they did some wild and crazy s**t once or twice. Heh. I was doing all that and then some...for years on end. Not the smartest career decision, prolly ripped off a good three or five years of what time I got left in this business."

"This is prolly gonna suck some ass. Tossed into some random tag match with a bunch of other guys who used to be stars or some s**t like that. And ooh goodie one of them is an ex-con fresh out the f**kin' the joint no less and the other...my so called partner, the way he talks it's like he's some old f**k tryin' holdin' on with a death grip to any last chance he can get. So sad."

"And this guy is my team mate, heh. Well he's no Stevie and this is the furthest thing from being good conditions for success in this little party. But I guess I can carry this guy to a win or at least ditch his ass before he can f**k the whole thing up for both of us. Heh heh, no one remembers the losers of these lame ass debut contests anyway."

***BANG***

A door slamming against the wall at the other end of the room shows Walker's tag along buddy, AJ entering the room with his arms and hands full of boxes, trays and bags.

KRISPY KREME!

AJ - "Got the good stuff dude!"

He lurches in and closes the door with a light kick of his foot against it and heads for the nearest place to set the stuff down. Getting to the bed that Walker was previously sleeping on he dumps all the sugary, jelly and creme filled, glazed goodness down on the bed. Ignoring the fact that Walker seems to haven't noticed that he's returned already he keeps jabbering on.

AJ - "Man I almost got killed today by some a**hole Philly fans!"

He snickers.

AJ - "Hey do you think it might have had something to do with my shirt?"

The shirt in question is a crappy "RUSH RULES" black tee shirt with an even lamer photoshopped image of Rush Limbaugh standing over Eagles quarterback Donovan McNabb.

AJ - "No sense of humor. Just because the Eagles choke like a poor man's Bills."

Ty still seems oblivious to AJ's presence or he's just flat ignoring him altogether. AJ chuckles a little at his crack on the Eagles. Noticing Walker hasn't said anything he looks up and notices that he's just standing at the window like a statue. Grabbing one of the boxes filled with various doughy frosted goodness he takes the four or five steps over to where Walker stands and offers the opened box to him while he also gazes out the window trying to find what it is that seems to have his attention. He shrugs after a few moments of clueless searching.

AJ - "Hey man..."

He adds a push to get his attention.

Ty (still looking out) - "Sup?"

AJ - "Nothing, got the goods and almost got mugged earlier."

Breaking his gaze from the window he looks at the shirt and shakes his head with an unsurprised little smile spread across his face.

Ty - "Jackass!"

AJ - "That's me. (pointing out the window) What are you looking at anyway?"

Ty (shrug) - "Meh. Nothin'. I was just thinking about stuff."

AJ - "Aah."

Ty - "Yeh... (looking at the donut box) Ooh glazed!"

Walker takes one of the classic Krispy Kreme glazed donuts and before taking a bite out of it he admires it for some reason.

Ty (Homerism) - "Mmmm doooughnut (chomp)."

Cut.

Moments become minutes that pass by quickly at first but after awhile they grind to a snails pace and boredom begins to set in like rigor mortis to a corpse. The guys grow impatient. Not really being the sight seeing type and with the fact that they have already been to the City of (un)Brotherly Love before that makes the whole sight seeing thing pointless anyway.

Fade back in to find the restless pair of Ty Walker and his buddy boy, AJ. Walker has since changed into a pair of clothes consisting of a red and white Detroit Red Wings jersey, a pair of grey cargo pants and black socks on his feet. AJ still has the "RUSH RULES" tee shirt on and a the standard blue jeans and sneakers. AJ sits at the table doing something with a bag of ballons while Walker has returned to laying down on his bed with a half eaten donut laying on his chest and staring aimlessly at the ceiling above him.

Ty (sigh) - "I'm bored."

AJ - "Yeah."

Ty - "We should do something."

AJ - "Yeah."

Ty - "But what?"

AJ - "I grabbed these ballons while I was out..."

Ty (blankly) - "So..."

AJ - "Bombs Away!"

AJ says this while holding up a handful of the multicolored ballons that he's been toying with. Ty looks up momentarily to see what AJ has in his hand. Sitting up Walker lets the idea register and then sink in, with a moment of thought he shrugs and grins.

Ty (mock accent) - "Toss ballons filled with water on unsuspecting people?!?"

Ty/AJ - "BRILLIANT!"

They chuckle a bit as they pretend to knock back a bottle of Guinness Draft beer like they do in those super cool commercials.

Ty - "Right on. To the roof!"

Ty gets up from the bed as AJ gathers up the balloons and the begin to prepare.

Cut to the roof.

We catch up with our friends on the roof of the hotel. Both are now wearing a jacket to protect them from the cold winter air and AJ happens to be carrying a plastic bag that is bulging at all sides. As they reach the edge of the roof they look down over the ledge at the front end of the hotel where the most people are sure to come and go.

Ty - "Ready to do our worst?"

AJ - "Our absolute worst."

Ty - "Remember kids count for double points."

AJ (handing over a purple balloon) - "Right, here you go. And don't forget that old people..."

Ty - "Dude we want to have fun, not cause some geezers heart to go out on them..."

AJ - "So you're saying they're off limits?"

Ty - "Nah...just half points."

With balloons in hand Walker and AJ crouch by the ledging of the buildings roof as they wait for a prime and best of all unsuspecting targets to come with in range of a most displeasingly soaked fate.

Fade.