How I learned to Kill a man

[Commander Sheepard]

I'm actually really enjoying reading this one. I say "actually" because I find I don't typically enjoy WreSpi diaries that much. But you're doing just enough outside of the ring stuff to keep my interest piqued. You've got an interesting premise, and I'm curious as to where you go with it from this point on.

Your matches are alright, nothing out of the ordinary, but solid. The length is ok, though like someone already said, once you get into some more important matches, a little bit more description wouldn't be a bad thing.

Overall, a pretty solid diary that I'll be keeping an eye on. Good luck.

[Shadeternal]

(OOC: Thank you for the words Big Sheep, the critiquing is much appreciated. Oh, and One Hundredth Post!)

After the Show

I laid on my back resting my eyes on one of the rather uncomfortable benches. I was fucking tired after the match, and entire body ached more than it had in all the other matches. At twenty minutes long it had been six minutes longer than my other matches, granted, I was eliminated at about fourteen of fifteen minutes. I’d like to wrestle machino again, I’m sure I could learn a lot from him given more opportunity.

“Samuel, may I have a word with you in my office?” my thoughts and rest both interrupted by the bossman.

“Yeah, sure,” I slipped off the bench and rubbed my eyes.

I followed him into another room separate from the mens locker room, On the way I noticed the ladies door slightly ajar, and peeked in for a brief moment of T&A before ‘ramblin on’ to the boss’s office.

“Mr. Alexander, my English isn’t very good, so bare with me. Good job on match, early crowd rating throw it at about a four out of five, you get better.”

“Thank you, Mr. Kojima.” I replied

“I thought about putting you with Deano, but the fact is that you just aren’t on his level, popularity wise, but you two will see action in the future, I’m positive about that.”

I was a bit puzzled as to why he had me in his office, simply to tell me I was doing okay? That’s what it turned out to be, quite simply a check up, see if I had any complaints, any ideas that I might have. We went over some character ideas, and decided that there were a few changes that would take place to my face character.

I left the gymnasium, setting a cigarette between my lips and cupping my hands around to light it. Just as I stuffed the lighter back in my pocket, the cold voice rang out from behind me. The feminine tones sending chills down my spine.

“Smoking has a direct correlation with cancer.”

“Never thought you to be a jet setter, nor wished you to be, I figured as long as I wasn’t in America, I wouldn’t have to put up with your prissy ass, only your henchmen.”

“I thought you’d be happy to see me, I’m hurt, listen, I have a job for you.”

“It has always been my credo to finish a job before I started the next, sorry I’m busy.” He had yet to look back at her.

“No, like you, I hear, this job will be a quickly, you’ll be done in time to catch your flight tomorrow, that’s for sure.”

“Or what? You’ll turn me in? Do I have to kill a man for this job too?” I growled, spitting all the venom I could.

“It shouldn’t, just some bullying mostly, a man here owes me some money, that money that he owes me goes straight into his Acura, so, in my mind and I may be wrong, but frankly my dear, I don’t give a damn.” She paused to chuckle at her own pop culture ability, my stomach lurched. “He used my money to make the car, therefore it is my car. Retrieve it…”

She gave me the details I’d need, where he keeps his keys, where he lives, etc. So, I’d soon be adding breaking and entering and grand theft auto to my record, or whatever they may be called in Japan. I seethed but got in a cab to about a block from his house. I paid the cabbie and got out. I surveyed the surroundings and started towards the house, resting my hand on the Glock that I’d been given ten minutes ago, ‘just in case.’

I had been told to go in the back, it would be unlocked, which it was. A light was on in what I assumed to be a study or living room, as some sort of broadcast noise barely fell across my ears. I left the door open as to not worry about shutting it twice. I pulled a Kleenex out of my pocket and grabbed his keys, I wasn’t going to go getting my fingerprints on every freaking thing. Whether they would figure out whose they were was questionable, but the amateur criminal in me was paranoid as hell.

I slipped out the back and as I shut the door it creaked obnoxiously. Shit! I shoved the keys in my pocket and dove over some bushes, landing only with moderate noise. The door creaked open again, a face poking wearily out. The man looked around, and then to his car, and ducked back into the house. I waited a good five minutes and rushed to the car, staying low.

I stealthily opened the car door and put the car into neutral. I pushed it slowly towards the street and turned the wheel as it touched the road, making a left turn to avoid passing his window. I hopped in and fired it up. It was auto, which, to my knowledge, was odd for a tuner car. A went the speed limit all the way to the rendezvous, as to not attract attention.

“Good job Sammy!” She proclaimed as I stepped out of the car.

Her brutes moved in to load the car onto a freighter.

“Do I get paid?” My cold blue eyes latching onto her shimmering emeralds.

“Yeah, airfare, hotel, freedom, deal with it fuck head.” She chuckled, she knew she was in control, and apparently enjoyed it.

I softened, it was no use. “Only further payment I require is a name, an alias for all I care. I’m sick of this enigma bullshit.”

Without so much as blinking. “Acantha.”

I nodded, I liked the name, a certain ring, and though an alias most likely, something about it just fit.

“Satisfied? You should be, and if you aren’t tough, because your ride is here, your plane tickets are in your room, maybe I’ll see you in the UK.”

“That a threat?” I mumbled as I walked away.

[Mountainous Cleavage]

Just read what you have so far, and can only say that your doing a great job. I'll be reading.

[Shadeternal]

(OOC: I'm going out of Town Thursday for the better part of two weeks, so don't expect an update until the wednesday or thursday after next. So, an extra long show to make up for it.... or maybe I just got long winded... Oh, and thank you Mystik!)

Men of Steel Combat

No Law or Order

“Here it is… “He wants sex and blood and money. We don’t give him any real blood-- unless a fire eater or a knife thrower makes a terrible mistake. We don’t give him money, either; we just encourage him to hope for it while we take away a little. We don’t give him any real sex. But why do seven out of ten of a tip buy the blow-off? To see a nekkid broad, that’s why-- and a chance to be paid a double sawbuck for looking’-- when maybe they got one just as good or better at home, nekkid anytime they like. So he don’t see one and he don’t get paid-- and still we send him out happy.” He continues. “What else does a chump want? Mystery! He wants to think that the world is a romantic place when he knows damn well it ain’t. That’s your job… only you ain’t learned how. Shucks, son, even the marks know that your tricks are fake… only they’d like to believe they’re real, and it’s up to you to help ‘em believe, as long as they’re inside the show. That’s what you lack.”” He paused and looked up from the book delivering straight to me the next sentence.

“Mike asks how to learn the task, and this is the important part, so listen up youngin’ “…that’s the piece you have to learn for yourself. Get out and stir around and be a chump yourself a while, maybe. But-- well, take this notion you had of billing yourself as ‘The Man From Mars.’ you mustn’t offer the chump what he won’t swallow. They’ve all seen the Man from Mars, in pictures and on stereovision. Hell, I’ve seen him myself. Sure, you look a bit like him, same general type, a casual resemblance-- but even if you were his twin brother, the marks know they won’t find the Man from Mars in a ten-in-one in the sticks. It’s as silly as it would be to bill a sword swallower as ‘the president of the United States.’ Get me? A chump wants to believe-- but he won’t thank you insult what trace of intelligence he has. And even a chump has brains of a sort. You have to remember that.” You think about that, kid, and then maybe you’ll be able to make it in the wrestling biz. It may not be about it but it applies. Meditate on it, and apply it, don’t be something you can’t kid.” The man lifted from his seat and walked off leaving the book next to me, open to the page he had just read from.

The man was non other than Buddy Garner. Buddy was a former Japanese Shoot fighter, who had taken up wrestling as a new venue, a more creative and less dangerous one at that. I’d asked him for some psychology tips, and I’d gotten this, a book and a minor lecture. The book? A Stranger in a Strange Land by Robert Heinlein. I filed what had been said to me in the back of my mind, dog-earing the page and shutting the book, shoving it in my gym bag.

I focused on my match. Opponent? A decent brawler from England, re packaged as a pinko, Igor Ivanoff. This was a Euro fed and they couldn’t get an actual Russian? Whatever… He was the weaker of his Tag Team, the Ivanoffs, the federations tag team champions. Our match would be yet another personal first. Not a simple one on one, not a tables match. No, this would be a steel cage match. To win I’d have to knock the shit out of Igor, enough so that he stayed down for a duration that allowed me to get the hell out of dodge. If I won tonight I’d climb to a positive win lose ratio, which I would love, to say the least.

Samuel Alexander v. Igor Ivanoff

We both stood in the ring as they lowered the cage around us, it was doorless, I could have sworn the last time I’d seen one of these suckers on SWF, it had a door, that freaked me out a bit… what if one of us took a sick bump, or botched a spot, and they need to get in in a hurry? No matter, I’m sure they’d thought it out. I stretched forth and offered him a handshake. He reached out as if to accept it, then batted my hand away and laughed, a hearty, commie laugh. And I stretched forth with an over aggressive American haymaker, catching him on the cheek. He stumbled backwards, shaking the cobwebs from his brain. The crowd had popped a minor pop at this, as we were simply the opener, they hadn’t been warmed up yet. He glared at me as I fell into a forward bow stance, and awaited his attack. He charged forth and grabbed at me, I ducked out and caught him in the gut with a roundhouse kick, buckling him. Positioned slightly behind, I kicked his feet out from under him and followed up by dropping an elbow in his sternum. I rolled away as he got to his feet, snarling. He wasn’t that much bigger, barely a middleweight, I’d say, and it showed in his surprising quickness as he lashed out with an elbow to the temple, knocking me back. He came forward but I ducked, kicking at his feet and hitting a drop toe hold, smashing his face into the cage. Another slight pop at the early brutality. He was stumbling backwards, on his way down as a leapt up and cracked him with an enziguri to the side of his head. He fell like a sack of potatoes to the side and I smashed him with a senton, rolling up and leaping to the top rope. I slipped to face him, waiting for him to stand. He did and I came off with a ‘kikkawa’ flying knee to his face, I landed on one foot, and let my momentum spin me 180 before setting the other foot down and throwing my arms slightly above straight out, whooing to the audience.

I controlled most of the match, surprisingly, and I thought I was doing a damn fine job carrying the brawler too! He hit a few moves, and at some point we did some pretty good chain countering. A stopped legsweep, turned into a bulldog, but countered into a shove into the cage, but I hit with both feet and ran up the wall flipping around and landing a pretty sweet reverse DDT. I took a Nasty ass Mandible claw, let me tell you, having two fingers shoved down your throat sucks ass. But despite all my flailing and struggling, I blacked out for a few precious seconds while Igor began to climb the cage. He was hoisting himself up onto the rim as I found my feet. I ran full bore at the cage and smashed into it with the hardest dropkick I could muster, Igor found himself falling backwards into the ring.

I lifted him into a seated position, still shaking the cobwebs from my mind and stepped back a few feet. He wobbled a bit but stayed up. Well long enough for me to come in with a sick roundhouse to his cranium. The thud could be heard around the arena, raising a big ‘oooh’ from the crowd, and a cringe from most. I leapt to the top rope and then pounced like a cat onto the cage wall to begin my ascent. I too was about to get a leg over when he flat out leapt at the cage, sacrificing his shoulder against the steel devil as I was sent flying sideways, landing on the mat with another thud. It hurt more than a fucking mandible claw, but definitely wasn’t as unpleasant. It’d take me a long ass time to get the taste of his nasty brit fingers out of my mouth.

We were both on the mat for a long time, Ivanoff nursing his skull, and me, just laying there feeling dead. But we both stood at about the same time and I hit Igor with a right snapkick to his knee. He buckled a bit and I delivered a stiff left knee to his gut, bending him. Parts one and two of my finisher, which I called ‘Divine Lightning’ a play on my almost biblical name. And all the more appropriate against a man with an atheistic communist gimmick. I stepped back for the finally and launched at him with a super kick, jacking his head back, almost as though he had broken his neck. I hoped I didn’t botch it and actually hurt him, but as he went backwards he lifted his hands to hold his face, and bladed as he was supposed to. He laid there, looking rather dead as I began to slowly ascend the cage wall. I reached the top as the crowd did some decent cheering for an opener. Stopping and standing I lifted my arms straight out and threw my head back, letting out a howl, before kneeling and dropping out of the cage, falling to the mats below.

Victor: Samuel Alexander

Time elapsed: 14 minutes (I don’t think Igor Ivanoff could have gone any longer…)

Rating: C+

Samuel Alexander d. Igor Ivanoff

Geena the Warrior Princess d. Mr. Wright

Ivan Ivanoff, Jake Panic, and Larry Wood d. Masked Cougar and Adam Martinez

Tom Foolery d. The Juicer

Shane Hannigans d. Bruiser

The Reason d. The Highland Warrior

[Shadeternal]

The Next Day

A point should be made that I should have called Kira last night. She was in the UK too, 21CW had it’s show the same night. Less than two hours away, and we could have met in the middle, but I had some thinking to do.

A week ago I had stolen a car, several months ago, I’d beaten a man, and ultimately had been the cause of his death. And, if all went according to plan, I’d be killing a man far too soon for my tastes. But as guilty as I felt about my deeds, I was having the time of my life. I’d been in five matches in three weeks, and despite an unimpressive start, I was climbing up through the ranks. I’d had three victories in a row, all three in different countries, granted, but dammit, I was feeling good about myself.

Last night it was a cage match, I could still taste his nasty ass fingers in my mouth, and I was slightly peeved at that, but other than having terrible Hygiene Igor was a good guy. I have a feeling it was his praise that had gotten me the 40 dollar Pay Per Appearance I’d received. God forbid I get somewhere on my good wrestling skills.

But that was what was going through my mind last night. Today, as I sat on a plane to the United States, I was fed up with the travel, but not the reason behind it. I was quickly realizing that I was getting into my job, not necessarily the murdering part, but the wrestling. It was Kenpo to me, I was pulled out before I achieved a black belt, but Wrestling offered me the outlet for the violence that had broiled within for so long. I was slowly gaining ability and popularity, not wanting to climb to fast, because at the top of the roller coaster there was nothing but a drop. The climax signaled the end, as with anything, but when one knows the basic ending, it makes them less excited to reach it.

It was in this delving into my inner motivations that I was brought back to the passage I had been read. I had given my blood to the ring, but it wasn’t anything serious, and I never intended to. It was in an actual injury that you really had the marks. I couldn’t give them sex, but they could see it in his valet. It was the mystery that made people like Tommy Cornell. It was getting them to care when you sold a power bomb. It was getting them to boo you when you threw a punch at your tag partner for as long as they could remember. Making them scrawl their slogan on a piece of paper and hoist it over their head. It was in that that you became the epitomy of a performer. To achieve my goal I would need to claw my way up the ranks. It isn’t essential to win, but instead learn. Every person I had faced had been in the business for a reason, and they brought another piece of the puzzle to success. A puzzle that Mr. ‘Rough Justice’ Tommy Cornell had already assembled.

By the time I had sorted my thoughts I was on US soil, customs was a bitch as usual, but it wasn’t anything worse than I had already been through.

United States Pro Wrestling

We Die Young

And as soon as I had landed I was in a cab on my way to the venue where ‘We Die Young’ would occur. My cell phone rang.

“Hello?”

“Mr. Alexander, how are you feeling?” The voice on the end was fairly unfamiliar, but unidentifiably male.

“Good, may I ask whom is calling?”

“Ah my apologies, this is Danny Jillefski from USPW”

My stomach sank, it was probably to cancel the booking, I swallowed the feeling. “Oh, okay, how are you doing?”

“Ah, I am doing well, listen, I just wanted to confirm your booking, a couple people dropped out last minute so I wanted to guarantee your presence, and offer you a $40 dollar a night PPA, if you do well.”

That sounded good, I was instantly happier. “Yeah, that sounds good to me, see you in about ten”

As I started to hang up… “Ah, nah, I ain’t gonna be there, I’m at the WLW show, The great Hisato vs. Awesome Thunder is going to be tight! I’m hoping I can get my hands on one of the chink buggers!”

I sighed and hung up the phone, it wasn’t worth it to try to correct the man.

“FUCK!!” Nobody stopped to look, I was in the states for sure. Effing cab ran over my got-damn foot…

Samuel Alexander v. Johnny Bloodstone

This week would be another first for me. Last time, it was the Cage match, oh, and the nasty ass fingers in my mouth… this time, it would be a first blood match. The whole booking felt a little slapped together, USPW was a sports Entertainment geared federation, yet first blood? And I was in it with a wrestler more prone to stretching people than hitting them with chairs. Whatever, handshake, ring of the bell, and away we go.

It started with a Collar and Elbow, which led to him with the arm drag. I popped up, into another arm drag. Up, hooked for a third, but I held on, dragging him to the mat in an armbar. He slipped out and we were both up to our feet.

Bloodstone came in and a threw a quick jab, catching him on the nose, staggering him backwards. I stepped in with a hook, a solid blow to the cheek. Another step forward, I went for an uppercut, but he was quicker, landing a toe kick bending me over. He hooked my arm and dropped, hitting a Jaw breaker. I went to my back holding my jaw.

I rolled out of the ring as he tried to drop an elbow on me. I still held my jaw as I staggered around towards who knows where. He went for a baseball slide, I sidestepped and pulled him out of the ring. At that point we brawled back and forth, punches, elbows, an occasional clothesline. It showed that we were both out of our element. But we found it soon enough. He had me in a rear waistlock, going for a German at ringside. I delivered a back elbow, he loosened his grip. Another, and another. He let go. I took two steps forward and jumped onto the ring apron. He charged forward. My back still to him I jumped off landing on his shoulders in position for an electric chair drop. He staggered a bit while adjusting to my weight. I never let him. One fist, two fist. Slip backwards, Reverse Frankensteiner onto a steel chair at ringside.

At that point I was worn out, and the ref started up a nice ten count. At 7 I was up and so was he. I leapt at him, nailing him with a spinning heel kick. I rolled him into the ring and threw the chair in after. I slid in, but he was up quicker than I expected. He kicked me in the gut. I bent, and next thing I knew… DDT onto the chair!

He set the chair up over top of my face and ascended the turnbuckle. I struggled to move, he turned away and leapt off. Moonsault… onto the chair! But my face wasn’t underneath. He rolled around in pain and I ascended the turnbuckle.

He was up before I was ready, and came at me with the chair. I slipped onto the apron just in time, the chair clacking against the turnbuckle, nobody home. I struck with my leg, kicking him in the back of the knee, taking him off balance. Another kick, to his hip staggering him away from the ropes, and towards the middle of the ring. I hoped up, springboard, he was still Overgaard, the chair raised to the side of his face. And the final kick, of this modified divine lightning, a springboard lightning kick drove the chair into his face. He crumpled, the chair clamoring away. I rolled up to my feet, blood splattered across the ring and I knew it. I threw my fist up in the air, and the ref soon caught hold of it, and pointed towards me, indicating my victory.

Victor: Samuel Alexander

Time elapsed: 13 minutes

Rating: C+

Samuel Alexander d. Johnny Bloodstone

Tribal Warrior and Darryl Devine d. Danny Rushmore and Java

Jeff Nova d. Carol Singer

UK Dragon d. Spanish Superfly

Pete the Hillbilly, Al the Hillbilly and Jack Giedroyc d. Patrick Cool, Eric the Bull and Cheetah Boy

Hell Monkey d. Mick Muscles

The Forces of America (Captain USA and Jim Force) d. T. Rex and Giant Redwood

[Guest DiamondDust]

Holy Shit, and update

Great job (Y) This is a really good diary, keep it up.

[JStarr]

lol, america