Post by Earth-616 Holmes on Sept 29, 2017 0:20:21 GMT -5
"It's okay they said. This time of the year where all the eyes of the universe turn their gaze onto your planet. The intensity in the atmosphere, the thickness of the oxygen you breathe; It doesn't mean anything when you are fighting for your last chance to be known as the best in the world. For every competitor who has suffered through this match and come out victorious, their names have been written in stone. Why else would they return or take a chance in reliving their past glories? However, evolution is a best friend or worst enemy. The time of God's clock doesn't stop nor does it take any requests. I've waited two years or more for an opportunity at the World Championship in Wrestling Championship Federation. This isn't a WAR. It's a massacre."
AUDIO FILE: PART ONE.
"I knew this season would be nigh and the sheep would flock to their shepherd. You never expect these kind of transgressions and events to unfold without the critical drama to be with it. Over forty men have come across the world making their claims to be the war winner yet they hold nothing of value or weight in their words. It's hard to watch them spit their little games and run around like chickens without heads. Making bitter noises to the point you want to rip your eardrums out and throw it in the trash; The story they tell is the most overused sympathetic chapter of every trick used to garner some attention. Attacking your emotions as you listen to them explain their case why in their own minds the best choice to win the war match.
And for some, the proof of their victories are written in stone forever. Hell, some are even approved by God himself yet why do you turn your eyes away when they speak? You know deep down inside there is another force on this planet holding your soul hostage. For two years, you've felt a growing presence at the back of your mind whispering a soft but humble voice with intentions to deter you away from the illusions of arrogance and lies. These idiots don't know what war is. They never had the stomach for it and they will convince you otherwise how much they matter more than the other seven billion lives in the world. With sheer disrespect and empty threats, these competitors are lusting at a chance to be world champion. I envy their little cause but protest at their effect. You could say the same for anyone in this match. Anyone in this match has an equal opportunity to win and continue onto the main event of ONE. What an opportunity.
An opportunity that I've never experienced nor an opportunity which has slipped from my path before my foot could even step on the holy grail. What you see in this match is a list of men who have come from nothing and have still remained nothing in my eyes!
War. Three letters with the meaning everyone fails to recognize. World. At. Risk. The entire world will be watching all of us forced inside the ring to maul and gnaw on each other's flesh. The waving of a world championship opportunity on the biggest stage of them all; The predators and prey come together in a very small pond but who will take the bait first? Some say it's a chance to break out of the common ground they've grown to loathe over the years being denied justice for all the hard work put in. For others, it's a chance to prove to the entire world that time does not and your prime is immortal. So many different reasons, so many different competitors. The odds are slowly falling down to the point of it being impossible. Yet with all those disadvantages in my wake, why am I still here, hmm?
What separates me from everyone else?
My story is a unique one. The only one because unlike everyone else in this match, war has been my life all along. War has been the very foundation since my mother gave birth to me in the West Houston Medical Center. War has been the eternal purpose God has placed in my soul and war has been the very breath of my air I choose to breathe every day and every night. It's the embodiment of my life for I fight with the mindset to kill or destroy every opponent who has come across in my path. You look at my record, you look at all I have done in professional wrestling and realize it doesn't mean shit if you don't fight for what you believe in. Hence why I laugh at these fools in the match speaking in tongues, flapping their lips and not understanding the words they even speak from their own mouths. They play their own minds; A magician who doesn't understand their own tricks will fall before the audience on his knees to an applause of laughter directed at him. My audience is an intelligent one, I believe so.
Piece by delicate piece you will understand the following messages I bring to you. You all will know my story, the story of a loving father who faced the worst demons Lucifer had to offer and the abandonment of God in my life in gratitude to the decisions I have made. War isn't about the match or how many opponents you can through over the top rope. It's much more than that. It's a symbolism for how many obstacles and hardships you've experienced in your life and STILL choose to fight through the pain. War is going to be different.
My name is Andre Holmes and you know exactly why I'm in this match. I've been through hell, I've been through heaven. I've suffered long enough on the sidelines and now I rise from the ashes of common ground.
One word to describe how I felt all this time."
It was a fuckin' chaotic scene he's never seen. The explosion shattered the concrete walls, turning them into a barrage of stones firing against the flesh protected by Kevlar armor. Andre jumped at the side landing on his ribs and groaning from the blow. Nobody expected his enemies to unleash a full frontal assault on the Mushroom Mandingo Headquarters in Los Angeles, California. Where was the local authorities, where was the attack coming from, where was God himself? He rubbed the dirt off his chocolate scarred skin and his hazel eyes glanced at his men being turned into rotisserie chicken. The fires consuming their bodies as they scream and prance around looking for a way out of this temporary torture. Death came and offered them a deal. Die in this fire and breathe life again in the bowels of Hell. As their bodies laid down on the cracked tiled floor, it was obvious the decision was made for them. Andre got up and reloaded the machine gun held tightly in his hands; Switching the extended magazine clips handed by his subordinates. With his back pinned against the wall, he took in a deep breath and nodded his head.
He scaled the wall first in the hallway on the second floor until kicking open the wooden door leading to the research and development office department. A quick forward roll behind a cubicle prevented a worst case scenario of him dying. Unfortunately, the two men who followed behind him were subjected to a barrage of bullets penetrating through their bodies and turning them into pin cushions. Blood splattered across the ripped up rugged floor, the furniture and walls. Andre stood on his feet keeping safe behind the wooden cubicle walls before opening fire on the enemy men who barged in from the exit across the room. His right finger slamming against the trigger, the bullets spread like wildfire and the enemy soldiers fell to the ground taking a loud scream with them into death's open home. Andre descended down on his right knee, back turned and clicked the communicator resting on his right breast.
"Jayson. We're being attacked by the thots. I don't know the fuck they amassed an army but I need you now!
"Come the fuck on! Where the fuck are you man?! Fuck!"
No response. War came a little bit earlier and on the brink of success with Mushroom Mandingo. War plagued his mind. That's all he could think about. His debut in this hell driven match created by that short sick bastard, Seth Lerch, took hold of his mind thus motivated him to be in his prime physical condition. This was an opportunity for the 'mid-card king' as the critics would say behind his back; The critics being his friends and the other men in the locker room who always turned a blind eye to his success because they believed in their hearts that Andre Holmes would never be main event. How were they wrong.
"If anyone can hear me on this frequency, I am currently on the second floor. Regroup at the exit of the research and development department."
He got up and walked through the narrow passage. His arms holding the gun up to his right shoulder, each step as light as feather. His eyes all over the place preparing for anything to happen. It's War. The consequences of making even the smallest mistake in battle could cost you your life or your chance at being victorious. It was a lesson many have failed to pass over the years and still fail up to this day. However, Andre learns and he makes sure those mistakes do not ever repeat itself again especially for a match like this that could elevate his career for all eternity. His name carved in stone the list of those who won war. It's the golden ticket to a brand new chapter in his story; A new chapter that has been long overdue to be shown to the world. Andre needed to win this match; More than the lying fucks who probably paid thousands for production to label them as the true victors.
He quickly raised his weapon in instinctive reaction to a light shined in his face. Luckily, it was friendly. A group of gentlemen all wearing the black and blue custom made Kevlar armor with mediocre to good weaponry stood in a straight line waiting for his orders. Andre held his weapon down at his right side and nodded his head; His eyes fluttering in response to the nearly blinding light that flashed him for mere seconds. Clearing this throat, he took on that authoritative tone with his pitch and volume efficiently improve to lead this new batch of youngsters.
"I know you're scared. You've never been taken seriously nor have you ever been in a fight like this. These men that are trying to kill us are blinded by these women who control the world because they are growing stronger every day. Mushroom Mandingo was formed to prevent this from happening and I will fight alongside you if you help me take these cowards out! Are you with me?!"
They all yelled in agreement. Andre flicked his two fingers gesturing them to form a line in front of him down the hallway. Only five feet in front, the wall was formed and they marched down the hallway armed. Unfortunately, the relentless soldier saw a tripwire before they could.
Too late. The subordinate employee in front triggered it and a huge explosion ripped under their feet allowing them to fall into a pit of fire. Andre's eyes widened at the scenario of them burning to their deaths. The blood gurgling screams turning into fog of faces tortured through the flames of hell. He held his machine gun at his side down and let his head down with his eyes closed. Rest in peace for they fought for nothing.
AUDIO FILE: PART TWO."I saw them with my own eyes. I watched them walk into the hallway with open minds of hope to see their families and their loved ones again. The way they screamed how they would fight to protect the world from our enemies and how joyful victory would sweep them off their feet. Yet I felt nothing; I felt absolutely nothing. I knew their lives were on borrowed time yet i could have done something to prevent them burning and screaming. What was it that held me back? What was it that switched my humanity off?
Every time I come back to this question, I feel the answer slip away like a mad man who doesn't know the difference reality and fantasy. It wasn't me, It wasn't like me to see innocent lives be thrown away and I stood there on the sidelines like a deer in headlights watching their skin become liquid ash and their spirits held by the devil. Waving them in front of my face as they blame me for their names being signed on the dotted line to be sent down in the fiery pits of hell forever. I understood right there. War does not share any emotions for the weak nor does it hold any time for the ones unable to help themselves. It's an unwritten rule that whoever is unable to keep up with the strong, they are destined to be exiled into the pile of bodies thrown at the side. It was there I understood how cruel war could be without any need to read a textbook or look up the consequences online. With my own eyes! My own eyes! What's a more bigger impact than that? It never taught me a valuable lesson more than that right there.
These men who are coming into this battle inside a squared ring are going to do everything in their power through wills and wits but their skills will not be enough. They are lambs being groomed, fed and lied to before entering into a slaughterhouse to be fed to the predators in hopes the masters won't be ripped to shreds themselves. You all know the names of each and every man I am referring too. The ones who try so hard to keep their spot on the roster and yet every time they fight, they are humiliated without common reason. Treated as equal for the sake of entertainment and ratings. What they don't know won't hurt them right? Wrong. They've always known. It's a deep grudge held in their hearts where they are forced to bite their tongues and swallow their pride. Whatever they do, it's never good enough. Never good enough to be called a measuring stick or hold the candle to lead the rest of the roster in their direction. This match is absolutely a shooting range and they are the targets moving back and forth unable to a fight, a big target on their heads for fun.
Petrov, Hajeet, Hank Herron, Leon Hayze, Bomber, Tanner Tall, and the names continue. Why do you think they are in this match? The false illusion of a pyramid scheme equivalent to Seth Lerch taking them into his office one at time telling them to their face they have a chance to beat the greatest athletes all in one ring for a chance to win war. Where have they been all this time? Why compete in a match where every man is hungry and willing to rip the spines out of one another for a title opportunity that nearly ninety-five percent of the entire roster over the year usually get through shows? No. It's something more. The chance to edge their name in history forever was the deal breaker. It was the perfect words to line them up in the execution center and fire the guns to watch their bodies tear from the inside. These men; Jay West, Joe Smarts, Rise, Caleb Ronan, Ded Memry and much more are going to die. It's a trap laid out for them. An easy trap they are so stupid to see and here they are walking through the door with eyes turned on them.
It's not the right thing to do but I have to be the one to let them know first hand. You all are not and will never win war. Evolution looked you all in the face and denied you the tools to win. You've been treated like jokes, common slum or freeloaders in the company getting paid a hundred dollars for every time you compete. No one will take you seriously because you've never been given an opportunity to shine. What happens when the candle is lit and yet the room still isn't illuminated? It's a lost cause thrown away.
Red Dragon, Derrick Tuff. All of these names are the pawns on the chess board making their first move only to be eliminated by the knights, bishop, rooks and queen's. Hell, even the King who doesn't move his fat ass can still take them out easily. The only direction the pawns know to move is forward making them easy targets to practice your aim and blow them all the way down to the bottomless pit. It's a common trait shared by war. Let the weak ones have their momentary success and false hope until someone like me rips it away.
I'll rip it away from their hands with ecstasy oozing out of my pores. I'll watch them be thrown out of the battle and their bodies broken at ringside having that look of defeat. A look that their face has naturally worn for so many years. War does not take a liking to the pawns. Move forward, get an attack and eventually become a human shield or an easy kill. These men don't know war; They never did. They're all food for the grinder, fresh meat for the slaughterhouse.
Jobbers in the world of professional wrestling.
Jobbers for the cause."
BRUTE FORCE.He had to move on. War didn't wait for anyone, he had to keep moving on as the clock to the end of the battle was getting near. The screams of the burning men still lingered in the back of his head so much that Andre leaned his right shoulder against the wall for support of his balance. He took a moment to regain his breath, wipe the sweat pouring down his face and took in a deep long breath. The sounds of bullets firing, walls crumbling and explosions were the new elevator music. Andre lifted the machine gun back up to his shoulders and walked down the narrow hallways again with each step being precise and soft with the battered tiled floor. Upon reaching the end of a hallway, he noticed a door with the words 'Management' plastered on the crystal glass window. It was half open and he leaned his right ear on the glass to hear if anyone was inside. No sounds. With his right sweaty palm wrapped around the silver door knob, he slowly turned it clockwise before kicking the door. It slammed open all the way and he rushed inside with the machine gun's scope right in front of his left eye.
The room was completely brutalized; Tables over turned, book shelves torn away, papers ripped and crumbled spread across the white rug. He walks over to a busted up table and flips it over to reveal another motion detector device poorly placed. Stomping down on it with his right boot, the device gets crushed and rendered useless. Andre rolled his hazel eyes, fluttered his eyelashes and said to himself in a soft tone.
"That was easier than I thought. Perhaps way too easy. Isn't this the part where some shit happens?"
"Ya' damn right it is!"
That loud voice forced Andre to turn around and standing in the door way was this very tall yet nearly hulk sized soldier wearing a mask and armored beyond compare. Using crazy strength, both arms holds up a minigun at his right side directly pointed at Andre's chest. Holmes looks at the minigun then back to the beefy lookin' jackass who chuckles behind the mask. With a gulp down his throat, Andre has to do something quick and he sees in the reflection of a mirror a window leading to the other office.
He bolts. The minigun stirring in a spinning chamber before firing rounds so quick. Andre runs to the left and leaps through the window shattering the glass as the bullets tear through the concrete walls connecting the two offices together. He lies down on the rug next to a computer desk covering his entire head while the bullets fly over his body by a few inches. Andre waits until he's done and he can hear the loud footsteps approach from the hallway down. Where the hell was he going to hide? There must be somewhere he can surprise the brute.
"Come on out asshole!"
The brutish fellow marched into the open office he destroyed and looked around. He checked from left to right, right to left. No sign of Andre Holmes neither any sign of his body. As he sniffed the air, the brute could tell something wasn't right. This was a trick but he was sure he took him out based on what he saw. Orders were to eliminate Andre Holmes out of the war and continue on his way to victory. As he kept looking, he heard something.
Right above him was Andre Holmes on the ceiling.
"Oh hey, didn't see you there!"
He released himself from hanging onto the lighting and dropped down right on top of the brute wrapping his legs around his waist and locking his arms underneath the chin in a backpack rear naked choke. The brute dropped the minigun and struggled to pry his arms around his own neck off. Andre kept groaning as he did his best to squeeze down as hard as he can but with a loud thump, the brute slammed his body weight into the wall nearly crushing Andre between them both. Andre kept hanging on but the brute smashed his back into the wall again; This time the hold was released and Andre slumped down to his ass. Coughing out loud, the brute rubbed his throat then started chuckling as he spoke to Andre in a cocky manner. Holmes on the other hand was smirking too.
"What's so funny ese? I have you in my sight, you're a little pup about to get devoured by a wolf. Why are you smiling puto?"
"Because....I got you right where I want you."
"...What you mean?"
"I hope you don't mind if I borrow this. Gracias motherfucka!"
The mini gun laid right beside Andre and he grabbed onto it in a heartbeat. The brute charged forward but got pushed back step by step as the chamber spun releasing multiple rounds of heavy caliber bullets through it's armor. Blood exploded out of each hole ripping through the vest and straight through it's flesh. Once the chamber stop spinning, the brute stood there for a second looking down at the holes in flesh releasing the crazy amount of blood like miniature streams of river. It wasn't before he fell down on the rug painting it from blue to blood red.
Andre sighed and rubbed his mouth with the back of his right hand. It didn't matter if that asshole had brute strength or not. He let his arrogance, confidence and ego play his mind. For war, you had to be intelligent and understand how your enemy thinks. Intelligence. Arrogance and egos blind that; Turning you into a helpless mindless chap who just knows only how to brash and brutalize your opponents. At the Tokyo Dome, he doesn't have brute strength but he has the cunning skills to out smart his opponents. For someone with an ego himself, Andre controlled it.
AUDIO FILE: PART THREE.
"Sometimes you have to pull your own head out of your tight ass and open your eyes. See how the battle is, analyze and understand exactly what do to do in dire circumstances. War is a match consuming every living person on the roster whether jobber up to Hall of Famer. You're surrounded in a cesspool of talent coming from all around the world with a diversification so bright, it could be rendered into a university campus but that only holds a disadvantage to a small guy like myself. Surely you'd think there must be some assholes who believe in themselves so much, they convince themselves on a daily basis that they've won the match before even stepping inside the WCF ring. It's almost as if they booked a meeting with the sisters of fate and auctioned off their soul to gain a monumental favor in the future. Allow me to break the news of reality. Nothing is guaranteed until the day of the war so you can call cut the egos and the arrogance right out of your ingredients list while I show how you how it's done to bring confidence inside the mix, hmm?
We have the grand returns of Gravedigger, Steve Orbit, Jay Omega. All these fucking men including Jayson Price, Bernard Core, Odin Balfore, David Sanchez and ladies of course with Bonnie Blue from UCI. Kevin Bishop? Wow. Welcome back guys but as much as we see them coming back to the War, my taste has become sour. The audacity they bring to the match with the predetermined notions they have this in the bag is what's going to be their downfall. Sure, some of these men have won this match before so why wouldn't the past victory and experience confuse them.
So adequate in their own skills from their former past primes, they still hold that sort of arrogance to waltz through the doors of this promotion and ask Seth to jack them off to the point of nostalgia. Seth has always been one for nostalgia, key example; The Family. Now they return with a chance to repeat their former glory in a brand new environment they themselves aren't familiar with. Besides that, it's a slap in the face to all the hard work the current members of the roster excluding the part times who like to get paid for showing up. It doesn't matter. War takes in everyone and welcomes those who has a thirst for blood. A passion for victory and the attitude to sacrifice it all to become the last man standing inside the ring who moves to ONE for the WCF World Championship main event. Great times.
But allow me to indulge in this group. What certifies them a victory when they can't even certify themselves in this time? Besides the ones who have stayed even to compete in Ultimate Showdown, the rest have been gone for so long, they might not know evolution has forsaken them.
Someone like Jay Omega. A man so caught up in his own world due to travels of space that he's forgotten the very feeling of earth's soil or Kevin Bishop and Bonnie Blue who transferred from UCI due to their success in the company rather than trying to recreate the same success here. These three examples prove that they are so arrogant and so blind to the desperation of holding onto the past fame they once achieved in the WCF. No one holding their hand or being spoon fed opportunity after opportunity leaving them high and dry. Seth's breast milk completely running dry so now they return with the notion to treat everyone like dog crap left on the side of the parking lot. Their confidence bringing them nothing but retired fortunes and disappointment. A gesture of defeat ready to please the audience who knows exactly who is making to the end of the match. It won't be Omega. He lost the moment he tuck his tail and ran from being World Champion after realizing the responsibilities were too much. He lost it all and Bonnie along with Kevin? They show up because they were UCI World Heavyweight Champions? Ha!
For the rest like Orbit, Balfore, Sanchez, Core and much more. The gesture of them all is the same. Ethan King, eXtreme and Warwick can fall into line. All the rest of competitors are going to understand that there is one man with a true story and I'm not talking about David Sanchez and Ethan King trying to figure out how to stay relevant because their supposed sex slave, Steven Singh, broke protocol by becoming world champion. It's a competition. It's war. It's a match where only one man will stand the victor and move on to become world champion.
That man is myself and myself only. Out of everyone in this match, I have been driven out of the main event scene because every man who is my opponent on this roster believed I'm a little child who should stay on the side and let the adults play. Their attitude towards me was spawned from their ego. Saw me as a little nice tool to help their career records although I've still yet to face my tenth defeat in the company. People like Dag Riddik and Gonzo who are the most controversial assholes stemming from pathetic cheap heat and over-egotistical ideals they enforce on society to gain some sort of credit. Let's not forget Bernard Core and Mikey eXtreme who share political views hounding on one another yet always resign at the back of the line every time they lose a match. Sydney J.
Warwick. A social justice warrior who probably convinced Facebook to add more options for the gender and sexuality section of building an online profile. Yuck.
All of these men don't mean anything in this match because they don't know what true war is. It's war with yourself ladies and gentlemen.
And that's where I shine!"