(It’s a strange day at the warehouse in Springfield, MO known as the headquarters of now defunct Midwest Championship Wrestling [MWCW]… The Sergeant is seated behind the check in counter, where he has been for his previous ULTRATITLE segments, but this time he is not alone in the building…)
(With a look of amusement on his face, Sarge peaks over the counter at his training facility… Three young, scrawny or slightly out of shape men are working on the mat with some of the sloppiest wrestling drills known to man…)
The Sergeant: I know what you’re thinking. I’m thinking it, too. What the hell are these guys doing in my gym? The place has been deserted for years now, except for me using it as my own personal fortress of solitude. It was a bad investment as a wrestling company, but a pretty good investment as a man cave.
Now I’m not alone. These three knuckleheads are here. I can’t say I’m happy about it, but I’m not gonna turn these guys away. It just wouldn’t be right. I might be a loner in some regards, but I’ve got principles.
I know everyone is wondering how these guys got here in the first place. Truth be told, I think they saw my win over Gemini this past weekend and realized that ol’ Sarge isn’t just looking for money. I’ve actually got some talent. It must have reminded them about this gym, too.
This morning I returned to the warehouse after catching up on some much needed sleep, and these three were standing at the door. I didn’t ask much of them, only why they were here. They replied that they wanted to train.
I told them that I don’t operate MWCW as an independent promotion or a training facility anymore, but that didn’t deter them. One of them had some experience, or at least that is what he told me, so I told them they could run some drills until they could find a real trainer. If anyone out there is willing to stop in and give these three some pointers, stop on by. I won’t charge you rent and I don’t expect you to charge them a dime, but I won’t hold a grudge if you get a little money off them.
They just seriously need some help. I’m afraid they might hurt themselves. Or worse, somebody else. All the waivers have been signed, but I’m just not a mean spirited guy. I don’t want anybody to get hurt chasing their dream.
The Sergeant: These guys are here because people are starting to get it. I’m for real. I wouldn’t return without being ready. It’s just not the way I’d conduct myself. I’m not doing this for the money. I’m doing this because at my core, it’s what I am. I don’t know how I let myself lose sight of that fact years ago when I grew more successful.
The first round meant a lot to me, personally. I think more than a few people counted me out against a guy like Gemini. I talked to numerous old wrestling acquaintances, and more than a few said I might have drawn an unlucky first round. With my ring rust and the toughness of my opponent, I can understand the concern.
Regardless, I survived, slapped on some CORRECTIVE TRAINING, and here I am advancing to the next round. Even got a few groupies trickling in.
The Sergeant: That brings me to my next opponent, Derrick Allen. As far as Bracket 2 is concerned of the ULTRATITLE tournament, I think this match is something organizers and fans alike are excited about. The buzz seems to be that a lot of Round 1 matches looked out of sloppy, and more than a few winners looked out of shape and unfit for the long haul of the tournament. With these disappointing showings, it’s up to guys like Derrick and I to take it to the next level. From what I’ve seen of Allen, from attitude to skillset, this match looks chockfull of potential.
I have to say, it’s got me fairly excited.
I don’t mean to overhype here, but this should be the match that defines the bracket, maybe even the tournament. I love competition. I love a challenge. A guy like Derrick Allen has a style I gel with, unlike Gemini.
The Sergeant: With Gemini, I spent a lot of time trying to figure him out mentally. The craziest part of that strategy was that he just wasn’t right in the head in the first place. It’s impossible to figure an insane person out, no matter how hard you try.
Sometimes it does a soldier no good to know the reasons a suicide bomber decides to strap a bomb to his chest. That sort of thing is for people above my pay grade. A soldier simply needs to know how to stop the suicide bomber from being successful.
Somehow, I parlayed this into a successful strategy. For a man who feels no pain and isn’t all there mentally, I simply chose to employ a “choke him out” approach. It worked.
The Sergeant: This time around, I don’t purport to understand the mind of Derrick Allen, either. It’s different, though. He has reasons and motives behind his actions. He seems just as competitive and determined to win as I am.
The more I think about it, Derrick Allen just has that chip on his shoulder. You know, that chip on a guy’s shoulder that either makes him one of the best or the guy who can’t catch a break. I don’t know enough about Allen to give a definitive answer, but from my limited exposure to him, he appears to bea guy who is one puzzle piece away from greatness.
He reminds me a lot of myself a few years back.
(Sarge pauses for a moment, shifting his weight as if he is uncomfortable with both his line of thought and what he is about to say…)
The Sergeant: That brings me to something that has rubbed me the wrong way since ULTRATITLE began concerning Allen: a seeming lack of respect for all competitors. The guy is good. Very good. Tons of potential and all that. I think him grouping the tournament into the has-beens and never-was-ones early on in this thing showed me something.
My fear is that Derrick Allen will sell me short and not give me my proper respect.
Don’t get me wrong, here. I don’t fear this possibility because I need his respect. On the contrary, I worry about this because, if true, it will lessen what we can accomplish in the ring. He deserves better than that. More importantly, I feel I deserve better.
(Sarge wipes a small bead of sweat from his forehead …)
The Sergeant: The first exposure I had to Allen was a disrespectful monologue prior to his match with Christopher Ryan Eagles. He disrespected his opponent, for sure, but he also…
(Sarge trails off as one of the skinny fat trainees approaches him… The man is wearing a paper cutout mask… Eye and mouth slits have been cut into the cutout, slightly obscuring who the mask is supposed to be of… Still, it looks like Sarge’s opponent, Derrick Allen… It most likely came from a pro wrestling magazine…)
Skinny Fat Trainee: (in a horrible Derrick Allen voice…) All I have heard lately is of guys past their prime coming out of whatever hole they have been in claiming they are the man to beat…
(Sarge cuts him off and gives him a dismissive backhanded wave, as if shooing a fly away…)
The Sergeant: (laughing…) Get out of here, buddy. That tactic has already been played out. It didn’t work so well for his last opponent.
(Sarge smirks as the guy walks away, shoulders slouched and head down…)
The Sergeant: It’s funny what a young wrestling hopeful will do in hopes of being recognized. As you can see, my promotional budget isn’t nearly as large as one Christopher Ryan Eagles. I didn’t invest my old sports entertainment earnings as wisely as I could have. It’s not all gone, but then again it’s not all here, either.
Speaking of budget and trainees, perhaps Derrick Allen can come over and offer some training to that young gentleman in the near future. I didn’t ask him to do that, and it seems like he could use some guidance.
There’s an open door policy here at MWCW headquarters, obviously.
The Sergeant: Back to my point. There is obviously some deep-seated disrespect toward legends in young Mr. Allen.
Luckily for me, I’m not exactly a legend. I’m a former rookie prospect, sophomore phenom, and eventual curtain jerker. I came back with something to prove.
I’m not the guy to beat for any other wrestler in this thing. Right now, I’m the guy to beat for Derrick Allen. That’s it. Only him.
If he learned one thing from watching my first round match, hopefully it’s that I haven’t lost a step. I am just as fast, just as strong, and just as athletic as ever. Ask the guys who knew me from Empire Pro back in my rookie days. If you watch my match with Gemini and compare it with my Best of Empire Pro Wrestling DVD match, you’ll see that I still have it. These days, though, I’m much more organized and focused. That’s what makes me much more dangerous than I’ve ever been.
Last week, my plan for the ULTRATITLE Tournament was to beat Gemini. Mission accomplished.
I have a new strategy now. Beat Derrick Allen. He’s a game opponent, and neither of us should be ashamed of a loss, but I don’t plan on losing. I want this to be a five-star classic; a match this tournament deserves. But, I have a vested interest in ol’ Sarge going home with a victory.
Unless I’m mistaken, this victory will be impossible without giving him a little combat tested, mother approved CORRECTIVE TRAINING.
(Fade in… The Sergeant is behind the check in desk of his warehouse again…)
The Sergeant: I heard my gunner cursing over the headset so I called up to him. He handed me a fully wrapped Snickers bar and started screaming about how one of the Iraqi kids had beaned the candy bar off his Kevlar helmet when we slowed down…
(A burst of laughter from multiple people erupts… Backing out of the shot, the three trainees from an earlier segment can be seen… All three are trailing off in their laughter as Sarge continues…)
The Sergeant: Obviously, it wasn’t all fun and games over there. The heat sucked. The dust sucked. The lack of electricity, air conditioning, and refrigeration sucked.
It wasn’t a warzone everyday back in 2003 and 2004, but we had our fair share of close calls. We started noticing the foreign fighters infiltrating in late ’03, but things weren’t noticeably worse until the Marines pulled out of Fallujah on day and couldn’t get back in.
I didn’t make my intentions to leave the military known until 2005, but I think I knew in Fall 2003.
Man #1: Because of the terrorist activity?
The Sergeant: Not really. It was more because of my growing obligations and responsibilities. I used to call it the curse of the competent.
Basically, the curse of the competent happens when a guy is able to get the job done right the first time and isn’t afraid to step in to help those who aren’t nearly as capable. It doesn’t take long to get saddled with a larger load of the responsibilities, which makes others even more laze. Rinse. Repeat. The cycle feeds on itself.
For me, it was convoy security. It didn’t take long before I was responsible for the lives of more and more young soldiers. We kept it together for the most part, but one life lost under my watch is more than I am willing to sacrifice. Even still, I wish I only lost one guy.
(Sarge pauses… The tension is so thick it can be cut by a knife…)
The Sergeant: I knew that I needed to get out of that environment, so when my second enlistment came to a close I was honorably discharged. With my amateur wrestling background and the little bit of tae kwon do I took in elementary and junior high school, I knew that combat sports was the way to go. Being a huge pro wrestling fan back when it was really big in the 80s, I gave it a shot. You guys know most of the rest.
Man #2: I understand why you don’t want to go back over and lead soldiers in combat, but why on earth won’t you train us?
The Sergeant: I’ve done the training thing before. Just like in combat, when you are responsible for everyone else, you neglect yourself. In combat, that means less sleep, less focus, and more chances of mistakes. Those mistakes can cost someone else… or you.
In wrestling, your career slips. You start losing to people who you shouldn’t be losing to. You spread yourself thin. That’s what happened to me before.
This is why I love this tournament format so much. Sure, after beating Gemini last round a few promoters and promotions have come calling. I can keep that stuff back though, because all I have to worry about is me.
No offense to you guys, but you three being here or not doesn’t affect me one way or the other. With this tournament format, I just have to worry about the next guy in line.
Man #3: Derrick Allen.
The Sergeant: Somebody get this guy a cookie.
Derrick Allen is one of those guys that remind me of some of my first opponents. Actually, he reminds me of a young Cameron Cruise or “Phenomenal” Frankie Scott. A wrestler like that isn’t too hard to figure out, but figuring him out doesn’t do much to help you once the bell rings.
Those are the type of opponents I like.
When you wrestle a guy like Derrick Allen, all you can really rely on is instinct in the ring and your own will to win. I got willpower in spades, and enough technical skill to hold my own with anybody in professional wrestling.
(Sarge pauses, scanning the three “trainees” before continuing…)
The Sergeant: I can see the worry on your faces. No, I’m not overconfident. I’m simply confident enough. Like I said, this tournament format suits me very well.
All I really need to know of Derrick Allen is that he is a game opponent and has some willpower of his own.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go run through a few drills. I have a training partner arriving shortly specifically for my match with Derrick Allen. If you guys are still around when we’re done, maybe he’ll run through a few drills with you, too.
(The three men buzz amongst themselves as to who the training partner could be as the scene fades…)
It is another dark rain infested night in the South Park area of Seattle. A night some would definitely stay inside, covered on the couch. Of course that is not the case for Derrick Allen. Nights like these you usually can find him strolling one street or another. Some would claim Allen is not right in the head for walking in the rain with no cover. To Derrick, it is nothing out of the norm, just a little wet. Derrick is always alone...by himself...no one around. Everyone has left his side. His peers always doubting his ability in the ring. No matter what he does inside of it no one gives him credit. Derrick tries to shrug it off but deep down it eats at his soul. Back in the days when Scott Douglas was by his side, he would get that needed redemption from his former friend. Now he just lets it eat and eat at him but when it comes time to perform, he is always ready.
Round one of the ULTRATITLE tournament has come and gone. Derrick Allen was victorious over Chris Eagles. The majority counted him out, said he was a looser and definitely would lose to his opponent, but he dug deep and was able to leave the winner.
"Idiots...they're all idiots."
Allen thinks shaking his head in disappointment. Derrick has come to believe everyone is out against him, no friends to be seen, a loner to some. Allen puts off time and time again like he doesn't care. Some of it he really doesn't, some really does bother him, but most just gives him a reason to point people wrong. Derrick looks over his shoulder as if he were being followed...no one is there. A car drives by and you can hear "Boulevard of Broken Dreams" by Green Day playing...
I walk a lonely road The only one that I have ever known Don't know where it goes But it's home to me and I walk alone I walk this empty street On the boulevard of broken dreams Where the city sleeps And I'm the only one and I walk alone
Alone Derrick goes on to Round 2. His next opponent is The Sergeant. A man who is a true american hero. One thing that Allen is not is a hero. Respect for someone who served this country of ours would be given of course. Deep down Derrick does have a heart...as little as it may be. Although he respects his career in the military, Allen does not know what to think when it comes to the The Sergeant the "wrestler". When it comes to other wrestlers, it is hard for Derrick to give respect.
"No one gives me any damn respect...why should I give it to them...especially a guy who is standing in my way in this spectacle called ULTRATITLE?"
Derrick thought but didn't realize he spoke out loud. Allen has stopped in front of a nondescript shop looking at his reflection in the window.
"He is weak."
"He lives by rules set forth from someone else."
Derrick is referring to The Sergeant and the life he leads or has led up to this point. Derrick lives by no ones rules. He does what he wants when he wants. This can make him unpredictable and to some he can come off as somewhat intimidating. No one can predict what Allen will do, in or out of the ring. In his eyes this makes him have a power that some urn to have. No limits to what he will or would have to do.
"There are no limits for me Sarge...nothing stopping me to go as far as I need to to get things done."
Derrick begins to walk again leaving the glass he was looking at himself in. His pace as quickened as he now walks with a purpose. That purpose is his upcoming round two match with The Sergeant. Another car drives by and "Sail" by AWOLNATION, Derrick Allen's own entrance music for the ring, pounds through the speakers...
This is how I show my love I made it in my mind because I blame it on my A.D.D. baby
This is how an angel cries I blame it on my own sick pride Blame it on my A.D.D. baby
Sail! Sail! Sail! Sail! Sail!
Maybe I should cry for help Maybe I should kill myself Blame it on my A.D.D. baby
Maybe I'm a DIFFERENT BREED Maybe I'm not listening So blame it on my A.D.D. baby
Derrick stops in his tracks with his head hanging, letting the lyrics sink in to his mind. Allen leans his head up to the sky with his eyes closed. Slowly he lowers his head and opens his eyes starring directly into the camera.
"I'm coming Sarge...prepare for battle...the war for ULTRATITLE continues..."
Derrick steps into an alley way as the screen fades to black.
Fade In to a eccentric ULTRATITLE backdrop. ULTRATITLE, A name that the world has become familiar with in the opening rounds of this tournaments. Sure, the die hard fans already were up to speed with this tournament, but now the world has been brought under the tournament's spell. Derrick Allen comes from off camera shirtless, ready for 'battle'. Allen's back is turned to the camera, which shows off his tattoo that reads "INTRYPIDE" (the french word for fearless). Derrick slowly turns around to address the camera in front of him.
"Many have come and many have gone so far in this tournament of 'champions'. Many, everyone saw coming, a few no one would believe if it were not for it being aired on television. Frankly...I don't give a DAMN! I could care less what happens until it involves me."
"That brings me to the man who many know as 'The Sergeant'. A man who hides behind what has happened...what should have happened...and what did happen. The man who can only find comfort in front of some never was' who do not mean a damn to me nor do I care."
Derrick hangs his head for a moment to prepare himself for what he is about to say.
"Mr. Sergeant...You spent more time wagging you finger in the faces of some green around the gillls upstarts than you did preparing, metanally ... and physically, for this match. I can not stand here and say I do not respect your service and sacrafice, Sarge. But I have no problem letting you know that, while you were talking your self up to the 'new recruits' ... you should have been getting your head wrapped around this match."
"You are public record, sir, I on the other hand, aside from an occasional scrape with the law as a misspent youth ... I am relativley unknown. In this tournament, hell ... in life. I am the familar face that you swear on everything you hold dear... that you've seen before; but just can't quite place it."
"You, on the other hand... You stand tall and salute for the World to see. You wear your sacrifice, as well as your accolodes of service, in the form of stripes, on your sleve. You boast and strut infront of your 'would be recruits' and tell tall tales of your might and foritude. You own a gym and leave it open to the public ... yet you refuse to lend any of your 'superior' guidance to anyone beyond flexing and peacocking infront of what could be paying customers"
"Just as if they were your troops recieving a briefing pre-mission. You stand with one leg cocked up on a weight bench or possibly a medicine ball ... with your 'Army' issued olive drab dasiy dukes cutting off the circulation to whats left of YOUR balls ranting on about your ... hell what ever it is your droned on about."
"And all the while with all this 'I love me' horse **** going on...In a world of Space Gods and Sauce-men ... Unstoppable Plumbers and illgitamite nephews of Undead Superstars ... Where men take to amazing heights and soar above the clouds ... or at least the rafters..."
"You still choose to hide behind the moniker of 'The Sergeant'."
"You are underachieving, sir."
Derrick adds the sarcatic ending.
"The Sargent? Really? You could be a General, sir! And sell me some cut rate innsurance all the while dazzling me with third demensional computer animated awesomeness."
"Now, I know what your saying to yourself ... at this very moment. You are a man of integrity and you would never sully the 'United States Army' by fruadulently misrepersenting your achieved rank. You stand behind 'your rank' like it means something in the civilian world. To me, and I am sure many others, that does not mean shit, sir."
Derrick wipes the build up of saliva from his because of his ranting.
"In a short few days, sir, we will meet in the ring. Bring what you have...for I will unleash my undying hatred on you. You will NOT LAST..."
Obviously a little upset, Derrick Allen storms off as the everything fades to black.
FWrestling.com was founded in 1994 to promote a community of fantasy wrestling fans and leagues. Since then, we've hosted dozens of leagues and special events, and thousands of users. Come join and prove you're "Even Better Than The Real Thing."
Add Your League
If you want to help grow the community of fantasy wrestling creators, consider hosting your league here on FW. You gain access to message boards, Discord, your own web space and the ability to post pages here on FW. To discuss, message "Chad" here on FW Central.