The workout and introduction

[Oath Breaker]

Cathy Fitch/James Chevalie/ Jericho Scrawl/CIA Guy vs Richie Shag/Tomohawk/Bad News Benson/Snake Venom

Iron doesn't seem like much. Until there's a lot of it.

Tomohawk grabs the tractor rim, pulling it off the ground with a grunt. The nearly 400 pound rim is 54 inches wide, giving him little room to bend his arms from the bulk of the metal. With a growl the iron comes to chest level and continues on up slowly over his head. He repositions his handstoward the center of the mass of metal and presses it skyward.

He holds it. Muscles straining against the weight like steel cables under stress. Muscles trembling, sweat glistening off his flesh, beads of it rolling down his face and chest.

With a primal yell, he throws the tractor rim forward, landing almost a dozen paces away. He faces skyward and delivers a tribal yell of victory.

After a moment to breath, he walks over to the rim and does it all over again.

And again.

And again.

Until he simply cannot lift it anymore. He tilts his high up high, arms stretched to the heavens as if calling upon some higher power. Again he faces the rim and tries one more time.

A gutteral, primal sound erupts from within as the rim once again goes to the sky. He holds it to the full length of his arms before lowering it to chest level. He braces himself, arches backward, and launches it over his head and behind him farther than he threw it forward.

He collapses to one knee, a hand on the ground stabilizing him as he takes in large lungsful of air.

Tomohawk: WCF. I trained hard for you. I pray to the spirits for guidance to crushing your great warriors. You are ill prepared for what I bring. I am a warrior of great spirit. Given access to ancestral warrior spirits. And who am I?

I am Tomohawk. Descendant of the man, the spirit, and the animal. I am hawk and wolf and horse. Proud Cherokee destined to bring honor, pride, dignity, back to my tribe, my clan and people.

The spirits said seek and train. So I sought a trainer. I found friend to the Cherokee and Natives as a whole. So I did train. So I did learn. I did all what was required so I may walk into your ring and bring glory. I come, with my chunanpa (peace pipe) and sacred herbs.

He stands, his long, raven black hair hanging over his face. Sweat continues ro stream down his chest and abs.

Tomohawk: WCF gave me reports on my first match. Let's start with CIA fellow. Sent me 800 pages on you. Line after line after line saying the same thing over and over again. 'I shoot you and throw you from the plane.'

Strap on a parachute, go skydiving spyman. We fight in a wrestling ring.

Then we have Fitch. Sombody's girlfriend, yiur mother must be giddy with joy. Your lifelong ambition as come true. You are now, officially, just another groupie. Your boyfriend will be glad to have you by his side .. until the next groupie comes along.

Chevalier. Indie wrestler stepping up to the big time. Good moves, nice clips of you on youtube. But this aint no game white boy. You are the strength of your team, and it's not looking all too promising.

Then there's Scrawl. A worker and fighter. The spirited one in the bunch. Building busses for a living. This is wrestling Scrawl. It's make or break. No falling back on the factory job. This is career time. This is livelihood time. And when you come across me in that ring, I promise, you will work harder than you ever have in your life.

As for my partners? Never heard of them. Haven't heard from them. I'll walk in solo into the lion's den and do my worst to win. And I won't bitch about losing no four on one match. I'll give the fight, and let them know they had a real fight as they nurse the bruises for the next week.

Come get your bruises. My pleasure.