PWP 6: The March 4 Glory - Jordan Caliband vs. Brett Sands vs. James Shark (c)

1 RP Max. 300 word minimum. Deadline is March 19th at 11:59 PM Eastern.

The PWP Heavyweight Championship is on the line!

Road runner

Date: 03/10/2014
Location: On a highway somewhere in the USA or Canada

We open on Jordan Caliban on the road somewhere in America or maybe Canada, in the car with him is his best friend Hutchy from back home in Northern Ireland, it took some convincing but he finally got the big man to come out and keep him company on the road for a couple of months, Hutchy had never left the UK before this. He lays sleeping on the back seat at the minute and Jordan Caliban is driving staring out the window, his inner monologue running while he takes in the starlit scenery

Jordan Caliban: It's a funny thing, how life turns out, the guy in the back seat was just a stoner buddy of mine 6 years ago, my last night in Northern Ireland was spent in his man cave of a bedroom getting high and playing Fifa or toy stunt bike or some shit. And now we are in a nice car rolling through America on the way home to my apartment in Ontario. 6 years ago being world heavyweight champion wasn't the goal when it came to wrestling, just being in the ring was. But the business I have put myself in these days is obsessed with gold which isn't exactly new but seems to be so much more prevalent these days


He rolls the window down and lights a smoke the cool night air rushes into the car along with the smell of fertilizer he had been trying to shut out of the car for the past hour, even turned the heating off at one point but didn't last very long  

Jordan Caliban: But nowadays we can't just be good at this, bragging rights are all that seem to matters to the people who call themselves wrestlers these days and I can't help but wonder when that switch was flipped and the world became as simple as win or lose. I have won belts before and learned a single thing from each, on any given night, anyone can be a world champion, its all about timing and picking a spot, which is why a triple threat match works in my favor, all I have to do is out think my McD's IQ level opponent and just straight up out class the other, shouldn't be too hard

A noise in the back indicates Hutchy has just woken up and has no idea where he is, he rustles about for a bit groaning and then almost falls off the backseat, his hand reaches up and grabs Jordy's shoulder and we see his bright red face and hair more orange than Caliban

Hutchy: CALIBAN! WHY AM I MOVING BUT NOT MOVING! AND WHY IS MY BED SO SMALL AND UNCOMFORTABLE

Jordan Caliban: You're in the back of the car idiot, bring that hung over ass up, no wait sorry, roll a joint and then bring that hung over ass up here

Hutchy: OK, gimme a minute, toss me a smoke

Caliban does and leaves Hutchy to it going back to his silent reflection

Jordan Caliban: I can honestly say my performance in the tournament is not something I have to be let down about, I made a mistake in my first match and it undoubtedly cost me the second round and entire tournament. Losing to a man like TJ Codair is something I will do any day of the week because he is just that, a man, Savannah is a savage and I had to go much much further than I thought to finish her off, I wish I hadn't taken her so lightly to start with. But the 2 I face at PWP 6 are a whole other story, see Shark can discount me, so can Brett but I have seen and beaten carbon copies of them before but they will have never seen anything like me before. They will never of met someone who wants this more

His mind seems to wander back to the days when he was a kid, Jordan was badly damaged from his teenage years, not mentally but a physical concoction of car crashes and sports accidents left him in no state to begin training at 16 like he meant too. In fact he spent year 16 to 19 in a wheelchair pretty much consecutively, we fade back in time in Caliban's mind

******************************************************

Date: Sometime in 2005
Location: Castlerock road Surgery, Coleraine Northern Ireland

We open on a much younger Caliban, currently sitting in the crippling white of the doctors office, he has some bruising on his face and his arm is in a sling, he looks relaxed and comfortable wearing a black cotton blazer with the collar popped and a shirt underneath reading “keep calm and finish him”

Doctor: So, Mr Caliban to add to the list of injuries you seem to be collecting

The Doctor says this a little sharper than he should and reigns himself in with a sigh and a genuine look of sorrow for the young boy he had given his first shots too and it all went down hill from there

Doctor: We now have a hairline fracture to the right collar bone, adding to its already broken left sister, A badly damaged knee joint which is still 2 years away from being considered at full potential strength

JC: But I am walking like a human again Doc, The Igor era is gone

Doctor: Listen Jordy, you need to stop whatever it is you have been doing since you were 15 to give yourself this injury list

He tosses a clipboard down on the table between them, among the view able ones along with those already known  are the following

Whats broke beyond fixing:

6 weakened ribs from 3 different breakages
A pinhole in the right lung from one of the broken ribs
Bone spurs in the ankles that don't seem to clear up

Doctor: The list is much longer but even that will get boring in a minute

We jump to Jordy shaking the doctors hand as he leaves the office

Doctor: Kid you need to calm down, you're only 20 years old and your body is traumatized beyond basic function, I don't think you can take another fuck up like this

JC: DR Beck, sir, listen, I honestly am doing nothing to cause this, I roll around on a skateboard the way you take your bike to work. I don't fight or play sport, I sit at home like a lazy slob doing fuck all and every now and then bad luck kicks my ass at work or crossing the street

Doctor: Wow, well I can't prescribe anything for that mate sorry

JC: Cheers Mitch

Doctor: Anytime Jordy, keep your head down, please

We follow Jordan out the door and watch as he hobbles down the steps and painfully enters a cab, the cab driver opens his door and runs round to help, he is a round man but not morbidly so, speaking in a thick South London with a little time in Manchester accent

Cab Driver: Jesus Jordy would you wait a second mate

He helps the subject of our interest into the car shutting the door behind him an, then runs round jumping in the drivers seat, he puts the key in the ignition and heads out of the car park

Cab Driver: Here ya go kid, I figure you could do with this

He hands Jordy a partially smoked blunt, Caliban sniffs it and beyond the aroma of burnt weed and tobacco he can smell grape flavored blunt wraps and strawberry kush weed, he smiles and cracks a window letting in the cool air  

JC: Cheers Jay you're a god mate


Dave the Cabbie: So kid, what they say?

JC: They said that they couldn't even use me for spare parts anymore dude, I'm done, bodies gone. And I did shit all with it

Dave the Cabbie: What! You seriously believe guys who dress in white coats and work in a whiter than bleached white building, how do you feel your doing right now?

JC: Dude I don't really feel like a whole human being anymore, there are literally parts of me that just fall off and float around under my skin. I am taller than my mum but she has to get things on the higher shelves for me because I can't stand up straight enough to reach them even when I have the use of both arms. NOT TO MENTION IF I HAVE TO TEACH MYSELF HOW TO ROLL AGAIN I WILL BE PISSED.

Dave the Cabbie: I still don't like the idea of that story, it makes me really uneasy

JC: Yeah man: twice I've had to do that shit

Dave the Cabbie: I really don't understand why you don't just get a vaporizer

JC: Because my mum wouldn't ha....

The conversation tales off as they turn into what looks like a parking lot surrounded by semi-detached low rent houses with cars that look like they cost more than the homes they belong too. Aswe pull up to Caliban's house a solitary wooden cut out stands on the windowsill inside the toip bedroom facing the back of the house, it's a Sonic the Hedgehog cut out, Jordan thanks the Cabbie and makes his way into his backyard, the walls were bright white and a regular old brown shed door had been hung between them, you couldn't see a damn thing from the outside and the walls felt like they reached up to the sky on a dark night from the inside. We follow Caliban through a typical patio back garden and into his house

Switch to night and Jordy is in his backyard, its about 2 am and he is having his last joint of the night there are cats fighting in the background and the sweet scent of a stolen and now burning car fills the air. The estate was always full of noise at this time of night, drunks, fools, kids and of course the various members of the paramilitary groups that ran the small town of Coleraine  from the not so behind the scenes. As he sits silently smoking his spliff he glances over at the hand sized hole used for opening the gate from the outside and for a split second something incredibly fast and incredibly orange shoots past the hole....

*****************************************************

Date: 03/10/2014
Location: On a highway somewhere in the USA or Canada

Caliban is brought out of his day dreaming by his friend sticking a blunt in front of him and climbing through the back to sit up front n the passenger seat

Hutchy: Shit what time is it?

Jordan Caliban: 10.30 pm, you gotta take over driving soon I'm dying here, the bones are rattling from these shitty roads

Hutchy lights the blunt and stares out the window

Hutchy: So something we haven't talked about yet, that voting thing for the number one contender ship to PWP's title, you didn't win that I'm assuming?

Jordan Caliban: I did, well kind of Duncan the boss changed it too a triple threat due to our little banter session that day which is a pretty good result for me, I can take out 2 birds with one stone

Hutchy: Jesus Christ who would of thought I'd be travelling the road with a future world champ

Caliban bursts out laughing at this and takes the blunt from his buddy, Caliban sniffs it and beyond the aroma of burnt weed and tobacco he can smell grape flavored blunt wraps and strawberry kush weed, he smiles and lights it again taking a huge toke and then talking as he exhales  

Jordan Caliban: Not what I meant, look there are at the minute at least 8 recognized world titles in America today, PWP is hoping to introduce this new one and the only way to make it count anywhere near as much as the others is to have a champion worthy of wearing it. A champion who realizes that winning the thing is only the first assignment. It needs a champion who doesn't run down his opponents because he realizes that if they stand in front of him as an opponent then he is worthy of being there. If anyone in PWP isn't good enough to be that companies champion then shit I don't wanna be there. I looked at a very worth talent roster when I entered the gold rush and I came here to fight them all because in my eyes everyone of us has the talent to be that champion. But what it takes to be more than just a champion is a unique view on the world. You see shark thinks that by winning the championship he will have the entire world kissing his feet and handing him the respect someone little more than a rat off a council estate just like you and me deserves. The way that kid handled himself in regards to his possible opponents was disgusting and Josh was 100 percent right in making the match a 3 way dance.

Caliban passes the Joint back to Hutchy who turns and regards his friend

Hutchy: And what about this other guy, Brett Sams?

Jordan Caliban: Sands, honestly someone I don't know a lot about him but really he looks like a kiss ass trying to fit in with the biggest wolf in school, you remember that kid who was basically like those fish that follow around sharks and stick to them

Hutchy: Remora or Remoraid in Pokemon

Jordan: SHIT I NEVER NOTICED THAT BEFORE! But yeah those, he is sucking up thinking it will put him into some kind I love you bro match with Shark, its not a bad strategy when I think on it. Maybe he is lulling the champ into a false sense of security

Hutchy: Wanna know what I think?

Jordan Caliban: Sure

Hutchy: I think the guy wasn't gunna get enough votes unless he got himself heard and decided siding with the champ on twitter would some how guarantee his place in the match, hell if it went that way then

Jordan Caliban: It worked, WELL, shit he set me up, the guy knew he wasn't gunna get in that match over someone like me, hey Hutchy put the blunt out I think I see cops

*****************************************************

Date:03/11/2014
Location: Undisclosed

We open on Jordan Caliban sitting at a table in a room with no discernible markings, there is a mirror on the wall and a reinforced door, on the table is a tape recorder, as we put the scene together it becomes obvious he is in police interrogation. There is an unknown man sitting across from him, it looks like a police detective but with the lack of lighting nobody can really tell what he is wearing

Man: I'm not going to ask you again, what are you planning?

Jordan Caliban: I'm sorry what? I'm not planning anything, you guys picked me up on drug possession for fuck sake, it was only an 8th

Man: Oh yes don't worry we have that all wrapped up nice and tight, your fine will be in the mail but that's not what I am talking about, what is project Sequitus

Caliban's jaw drops, his eyes widen and his face gives off a very distinct state of what the fuck?

Jordan Caliban: What? ha ha you have to be fucking with me, seriously?

Man: You are on tape watch your language, show some damn respect

This only garners a bigger laugh from Caliban who stretches out on in his hair putting his feet up on the table

Jordan Caliban: I'm sorry I just really can't believe I'm being interrogated about this by a cop, one who obviously isn't a wrestling fan

Man: Look kid in your bag we found this

The man pulls out a brown folder with "SEQUITUS" printed on the front, he opens it and reveals several bundles of papers and photographs of different wrestlers and different companies contracts and details

Man: This is all very intricate, a lot of information on a lot of people, accomplices from all over the place, but these are the thing I want to talk about

He opens the folder and pulls out a bunch of photographs, the first one he tosses is a group photo of Caliban with Indy wrestler Jordan Ciserano and Cormack MacNeill standing in the ring with the title brothers in arms written on the back

Jordan Caliban: You really don't know who I am? The kid who's chocolate milk lips left a stain on your tie after his goodbye hug this morning isn't a wrestling fan? I know it's a boy because you brought in the latest copy of New X-Men mixed in with your papers and you really don't look like a marvel fan to me.

Man: Ill give you credit I have an 9 year old son but I don't watch wrestling at all and neither does he, we try to discourage violence in our home

Jordan Caliban: DUDE YOUR A COP!

The man places his hands on top of the photo of Caliban and his friends and slides it across the table, seeing the look of "I'm not buying it Caliban decides to have a little fun with the guy, he puts on his best, most sincerity dripping face and pretends to drop an act

Jordan Caliban: Project Sequitus is the code name given to a special ops mission handed down by the high council of dead rabbits, the men in that photograph are my brothers in arms, they are my soldiers and we are warriors fighting on the side of the next step of human evolution. The other photos you are holding are a mix of operatives working in the world under various code names and the ones you are most likely holding me over, there are 2 each one shows a particular person and underneath in red pen is written the word Victim

Man: And what was the objective of this "mission?" What does it have to do with these people? A regular American 30 year old and an African American male, neither of them look particularly threatening to me

Jordan Caliban: The men, Brett Sands and The Shark as they call themselves are about as threatening as they come. Take Brett for instance, this man is the epitome of modern douche baggery but when you look closely you see a man who wants to burn the world to the ground just so he himself can burn with it. You know what makes a man dangerous detective? Desperation. The other dude is pretty much the top dog in my business right now, newly crowned king of the world as he probably puts it while banging his paid girlfriends.

Caliban lights smoke and continues

Jordan Caliban: These guys are the new kids on the block, a new group hailing out of absolutely nowhere, our Intel on them is sketchy at best but they are included in the party we are looking to make an appearance at, unless you decide to hold me for something in a state with very very thin Mary Jane laws. I don't even know their real names OK, these guys from what I ascertain are assassins, highly trained and highly dangerous but not exactly experienced. Surveillance is on going but really I can't tell you anything other than the fact that they will no longer be a problem sooner rather than later. These 2 are the pretty boys with muscles who think they enjoy combat, they will learn soon enough what it is really like to be in a war, to have an arm ripped out of it's socket by someones bare hands

Man: But? BUT!? Why aren't we watching these people if they are so dangerous?

Jordan thinks at this point about dropping the joke but decides to keep going a little bit longer, this dude irritated him, he was obviously just looking for a score bigger than his job allowed him

Jordan Caliban: Listen to me worm, you may not have heard of us but there are hundreds of thousands of people who watch and update themselves on the status of the people in these photographs, they obsess over which one of us will live or die in battle. Just because your eyes are closed to the real world and whats going on in the right circles doesn't make it an imaginary thing that isn't really happening, this isn't TV you know. Why don't you ask your first question again, that was a good one

Man: What is Project Sequitus?

Jordan Caliban: The current mission you are questioning me over has a definitive goal that will put us above the "people" in those photos, it puts the next step above what you and your boring kind of a generation want to keep us as, I mean look at this shit, you have absolutely no idea what I am talking about do you? OK do me a favor and call that son of yours, ask him if he or any of his friends has ever heard of Jordan Caliban, I'm on TV

Caliban smiles as the Cops jaw now drops and he quietly gets up and leaves the room, the shot switches to outside the police station 20 minutes later, Caliban walks down the steps and to his car parked across the street, he gets in and looks back at the building, the cop is standing outside lighting a smoke, Caliban laughs to himself

Jordan Caliban: Dumb ass

SCENE001: “CHAMPION FOR A REASON”
MARCH 7th 2014
BROOKLYN, NY
CAMERA [STANDBY]

I dropped myself down to one knee in the middle of the ring, breathing in and out harder as drops of sweat dripped down my face. I was dazed, worn out and beat up. My face was probably not looking so good. I could taste some blood in my mouth and could barely see out of my right eye.

It was all the result of sparring for practically the whole day in Triple Threat Match stipulations. We brought in folks to mimic both the styles of Caliband and Sands along with the possible game plans each man might bring to the table. Of course I knew that no matter how many sparring partners I flew in, none of them would be an ‘exact’ match to my opponents and that is why I had to work extra harder.

If there was anybody listening to my interviews and reading my tweets, only to assume that I was going to be taking this match lightly then they were going to be in for one hell of a surprise.

I wanted Jordan Caliban to think that I was underestimating him. I needed him to think that I was ignoring his skillset and the unique threat he brought to my title just as much as I needed Brett Sands to think that I could just come in and win just because I beat him last time. I wanted both of these men to feel like I was already looking past them.

The truth was, I was training harder than ever before. Maybe it was because of all the hype and momentum that was surrounding me, maybe it was because of all the shit Caliban talked that motivated me…. or maybe, just maybe, I was in desperation mode.

I stared down at my right hand that was heavily wrapped. I had gone against my doctor’s orders, hell, I had even gone against my trainer’s corners. Going into this match was a huge risk, but I was a fighter, I grew up fighting my whole life. Quitting or backing out of a fight wasn’t in my system, I didn’t know how to do that. It wasn’t James Shark and it definitely didn’t fall under my definition of a champion.

Not only was I injured, but I was injured at the worst possible moment. This wasn’t going to be like the tournament, not at all.

Although being in that one night tournament was one of the toughest challenges I’ve ever had in my career, I could easily say that winning the championship was easy… at least “easy” compared to the challenge that I would be faced defending the title. This wasn’t just a triple threat match to me.

Some people could argue that Jordan Caliban was nowhere near my level and Brett Sands was just going to be another guy I defeat twice but I looked at this as the most important match yet. Everything was riding for me in this one match alone. These two men were already coming off a loss, they had everything to gain and nothing to lose.

However, me on the other hand? My championship was on the line, my winning streak was in jeopardy and there was no way I was going to swallow all the trash I spew out of my mouth leading up to this match.

Becoming a champion was simple, staying champion was the hard part.

CLAYTON: “On your feet, Champ….”

I slowly rose up to my feet as I could feel the pain in my legs, they were weak and needed some rest. As I looked up at the clock I could see that it was 3:00AM. My gym was closed and the only people that were in here were myself, my head trainer Clayton Paris and Invicta MMA’s Women’s Batamweight Champion Saffron Dior.

She was putting in work on a heavy punching bag outside of the ring. This is the type of stuff it took to remain Champion: constantly improving, constant training, no sleep, no rest, just hard work and dedication.

Clayton brought the pads up to his chest and nodded his head, my arms felt like noodles at this point but I did my best to lift them and fire off a set of different one handed combinations, all of which hit the pads with my left hand, my right hand remained flexed on the side of my waist. We didn’t usually focus a lot on my boxing because of how good it was already, but this camp was different. Due to the injury I suffered, we were forced to revisit that department.

On the last addition of Battle Grounds I extended my winning streak to 8 straight and knocked out a crafty veteran and one of the best in Alexander Remington. The win came with a price. Against someone like Remington, I had to be sneaky, I had to be one step ahead of him and come at him with an unorthodox style.

Around the end of the match, I threw a spinning back fist on him that landed awkwardly across his face.

I heard a click in my hand and I knew something was wrong. Any other person would’ve freaked out and choked, froze on the spot and be a sitting duck for their opponent to capitalize on them, but not me. As soon as Remington came forward, I used that exact same hand to land my swag out and knock him the fuck out.

Because of how stubborn I am and how strong my will to win is, I gave myself a broken hand. I put myself in this position, I gave myself a huge disadvantage coming into this match and I backed myself up against a corner.

The smart thing to do would have been to pull out, heal my hand, and face the winner of Sands vs Caliban. Josh Duncan had already contacted me about that, but I told him to go fuck himself. Yes, he was just trying to help, but I found it insulting.

It wouldn’t be the first time I dug myself into a hole, nor would it be the last. This career was filled with many surprises and I already knew from experience that at any given moment, things could just go to shit and the problems could stack up against my shoulders. However, I learned to fight through those things. Being James Shark, a dude that loved nothing more than to win… I always had to find my way to win no matter what obstacle was in front of me.

I found a way and did those things simply because I’m a champion that is here to stay.
With an injury, or without one, It didn’t matter. If I couldn’t defend this championship then I didn’t deserve it.

--

SCENE002: "MY BIGGEST WEAPON"
MARCH 11TH 2014
KELOWNA, BC
CAMERA [STANDBY]

SHARK: “Aye you got somethin on yo lip, might wanna check that out”

I watched her from the other end of the sofa as she flashed me an odd look on her face. She pulled out her phone and began to look at her seductive red lipstick covered lips through her reflection. The color of her lips matched her hair.

Ginger Grant was different from any other girl I knew. She was the type people just wouldn’t picture me to be hanging around with. Long red hair, covered in tattoos and somewhat of a pale skin complexion, she wasn’t famous either, but a bartender. Maybe that was it, she was just so chill, normal, laid back. I really liked that about her, she was probably the first non-famous chick I’ve ever met that allowed me to be myself, she was so cool about it, not starstruck or anything.

Even though we had been hanging out for a good week now and she was taking her vacation off of work in my crib, contrary to what some believed… we were nowhere near dating. A relationship was the last thing I needed or wanted for that matter.

Right now, I was just living the life of a young single nigga. Having fun and going back to the “old” me.

GINGER: “I um… I don’t…where?”

She began to frown her face as she pointed her phone towards her lips for a few more seconds before soon giving up. I laughed and walked over towards her.

SHARK: “Hold up Gingy, I’ll get it for you…”

There wasn’t anything on her lip, I just wanted to tease her. I leaned in and gently ran my tongue around her lips before sliding it into her mouth and locking lips with her as she kissed me back. She slowly turned me over and got on top of me as I sat on the couch with her on my lap, I tried my best to hide my pain but I obviously didn’t do a good job.

GINGER: “What? What’s wrong?”

SHARK: “It ain’t nothing yo…. just training camp shit.”

GINGER: “Oh… sensitive are we?”

She playfully poked my left shoulder as I grunted. All she could do was giggle as I shook my head.

GINGER: “Are you usually… this sore before your match?”

I shrugged my shoulders.

SHARK: “It happens yo, I don’t think any wrestler be 100% comin into a match, straight up. The battle aint even in the match, you don’t win in the ring, you win in the gym. That’s where the real test is.. it’s really all bout who puts in the most work, who comes in the most prepared. If only you seen how hard I been workin these past few days, not only am I trainin hard but I’m trainin smart, workin on using ma left hand a lot."

I rose my right hand over to her which was still wrapped around in a bandage to remind her.

SHARK: “I’ll be aight.”

GINGER: “Well just make sure you’re not training too hard… too much training can be ba-“

SHARK: “I aint overtraining, I aint undertraining, I’m doin everything perfect yo… they want my championship and they can both take turns tonguing the fuck outta my asshole, I ain’t giving them shit but a loss.”

She made a disgusted look on her face as she kind of pulled away from me, still seated on my lap.

GINGER: “Haha ew… you say the weirdest things. You lost me when you admitted your sick and wild fantasy of wanting your opponents to rimjob you. I’m not in the mood anymore."

I chuckled and pulled her head closer to mine.

SHARK: “Shut the hell up fool, you know what I meant”

Before we could engage in a kiss and take things further I heard the doorbell rang. Due to the gates I had setup around my mansion, I knew that whenever someone was literally at my door, it was somebody that I knew. Ginger turned around to look towards the front hallway before looking back down at me.

GINGER: “Expecting someone?”

I shook my head, still thinking about who it could be and if I had any forgotten plans setup for today.

GINGER: “Okay then…”

She leaned down and we began to kiss but as the doorbell continued to ring in a dramatic fashion, we couldn’t help but release our lips from one another and stop.

GINGER: “Are you SURE you’re not expecting anybody?”

SHARK: “Well shit… I don’t know who the hell it could be yo, I mean…. OH SHIT, I FORGOT”

I pushed her off of me and leaped off of the couch, I didn’t mean to really but my whole body got overwhelmed with excitement.

GINGER: “What the hell??”

SHARK: “It’s my twins yo, my-my little niglets are here!”

How could I fucking forget? It had been on my mind for days. Before my match with Remington I was so eager and determined to do something about seeing my babies but before I could, it all seemed to work itself out. Brooklyn had contacted me herself via Text to tell me that the twins would be dropped off due to the court’s order.

She told me that her mother would come by to drop them off but I told her no. As much as I wanted to see my little homies, there was no way I was going to allow that old bitch to step foot in my home or even come anywhere near me. I lost all respect in the world for her and wished her nothing but the worst. Instead, our mutual bestie Madison was supposed to come by to drop them off. The same woman who made the biggest mistake ever which was introducing me and Brooklyn to one another.

GINGER: “Twins…? What??”

Maybe I forgot to tell Ginger that I was a father, but I had no time to explain, I ran straight towards the hall and made a turn towards the front door. My heartbeat began to increase rapidly as I didn’t hesitate to unlock the door and swing it open, my body filled with excitement and anticipation, I didn’t even think I was breathing.

“Hello James..”

I ignored Madison and dropped myself right onto the strollers of my baby boys, kissing them on their cheeks and holding onto their tiny little fingers. They looked… they looked so fucking happy to see me. It had been a month and a half, a very long and slow month and a half in which I hadn’t seen them.

Because of that, I couldn’t help but break down in tears. I didn’t even give a fuck if Ginger saw me or if Madison did. I had been a bad father, I failed and gave up on them when they needed me the most.

My only hope now was that they forgave me.

SHARK: “Levi Carter… James Shark Jr, god damn did I mess up. I’m so, so sorry yall, I… I’m so sorry”

I continued to embrace them as Madison put her hand on my shoulder.

“Don’t worry about it James”

Only by this time… I had calmed myself down a bit to really pay attention to her voice.

That did not fucking sound like Madison… at all, I slowly raised my head up towards her to see Sharon, Brooklyn’s mother. She was here alone, no Madison in sight. I had been so excited and anxious to see my twins that I had completely ignored who it was that brought them to me.

SHARK: “You’ve got to be fuckin me with yo…”

GINGER: “Hey now, don’t swear in front of the babies!”

Ginger came out from behind me as she greeted Sharon and lowered down to her knees, shaking the babies hands and talking to them. I kept my eyes on Sharon, giving her a death stare.

SHARK: “Yo G, do me a favor and bring the little ones inside”

From the sound of my voice she could tell that something was wrong, it didn’t take her long to notice the way I was looking at Sharon either.

GINGER: “Um… yeah sure”

As I kept my eyes locked on Sharon, Ginger came in between us to grab the strollers, I moved out of the way to allow her to push the twins inside. Once all three of them were in, I shut the door behind us, turning back to Sharon.

SHARON: “Let’s just be mature about this alright?”

SHARK: “Nah fuck you. Don’t be coming at me with this ‘mature’ bullshit. Now you want to be a fucking adult? How old is your bitch ass yo!? I looked at you as a fucking mother straight up, I ALWAYS treated you with respect, hell, even came to you for advice all them times”

SHARON: “James… please”

SHARK: “Nah I said FUCK YOU, shut the fuck up and listen to me. You were the one that brought me and Brooklyn back together when we broke up in NLWF, and then what? You were so quick to watch us end huh? You were supposed to be in the middle, you were supposed to-“

SHARON: “You don’t think I talked to Brooklyn after you left? I didn’t take any sides Jame-"

SHARK: “You kicked me in the fucking face you stupid bitch. Did you forget about that?”

I was so heated up right now, so fired up that I didn’t even notice I was right up in her face before she took a step back. I sighed and took a step back myself, returning her personal space.

SHARON: “I heard screaming, shouting, things being knocked over… the first thing I saw was you on top of Brooklyn with her desperately trying to get up to her feet. As a mother, I thought my daughter was in danger, what was I supposed to do? Seriously James, what was I supposed to do?”

There was nothing I could think of, I shook my head at my loss of words, I really wanted to come up with an answer but I couldn’t.

SHARK: “I… was fucking holding her down. I was trying to keep her calm.”

SHARON: “And I was supposed to know that how?”

SHARK: “You fucking knew me yo. All them times I opened up to you, you knew who the fuck I was, I wasn’t that asshole you saw on TV. Out of all the times me and Brooklyn argued, have I ever put my hands on her? I fucking loved her, right before that point she was my fucking fiancee yo, I was supposed to marry her. She was the one that put her hands on me, punched me, kicked me, threw shit at me and what did I do? I took it all like a little bitch, not once did I swing back.”

SHARON: “James… like I said, I heard world war three going on… I came out and-“

SHARK: “And kicked me in the fucking head with your damn shoes on. Then watched as she threw glass at me, the hell would’ve happened if something happened to me yo?”

She sighed at me and shrugged her shoulders.

SHARON: “It was a crazy night for everyone James”

SHARK: “You know what kind of a nigga allows his girl to put his hands on him like that, allows her damn mother to put hands on him, and then allows them to kick him out of his OWN fucking house and allows them to take his kids away from him?? A nigga that’s fucking inlove. You messed that up, she, she messed that up”

SHARON: “I never questioned the love you had for her. We all made mistakes that night, you can’t say that you didn’t play a role in the breakup.”

SHARK: “What the hell did I do? She was mad at me over some stupid things I said on text messages to fucking Dora man!”

I pointed into the house even though Adorabelle wasn’t in there.

SHARK: “Who the fuck is Dora? Who? I was never involved romantically with her, we never did anything to each other. It wasn’t like I was texting an Ex or someone that had the hots for me. All I did was say some stupid shit out of anger. “I hate Brooklyn” “Brooklyn is so annoying” boo-fucking-hoo.”

SHARON: “You left out things like… “I don’t love Brooklyn” and things like “I only stayed with her because she was pregnant, I never loved her” Those things hurt James. It doesn’t matter who Dora is, how would you feel if you found text messages like that from Brooklyn being sent out to one of her friends, another man, or even a stranger? You would feel pretty upset right?”

SHARK: “Nah, cause… people say and do stupid shit when they’re angry. She’s done it all the time.”

SHARON: “Has she ever said stuff like that about you?”

Again I choked. The answer was obvious but I didn’t want her to feel right. This wasn’t my fault, I wasn’t going to take any blame for this.

SHARK: “She constantly lies about me tho. Last time we broke up, she wanna tell the whole world I cheated on her, now? She wanna tell everybody I beat her up, fuck it man. We have nothing to talk about yo, what’s done is done.”

I turned around, just about ready to leave but she grabbed my arm. I aggressively yanked my arm away from her.

SHARK: “Don’t fucking tou-“

SHARON: “And then right when she was about ready to reach out to you and apologize she found out you were in another relationship, that you moved on from her THAT quickly. She won’t admit it, but do you know how heartbroken she was?”

For a moment I froze on the spot. I don’t know why that got to me so much but it did.

SHARK: “She uh….she was about to reach out and apologize?”

Sharon shrugged her shoulders at me, it was almost like she knew that would get my attention.

SHARON: “Hey… what’s done is done right?”

I stared a hole right into her eyes for a few seconds before responding with my head down, staring at the floor.

SHARK: “……Yeah.”

SHARON: “But, she seems like…..an interesting girl. Good luck with your relationship”

Raising my head up to Sharon I raised an eyebrow.

SHARK: “What?”

SHARON: “That red head that came out earlier. That’s the girl you moved on to right?”

SHARK: “Oh…what? No, nah, I… she’s just a friend yo, I ain’t even in a relationship no more, it didn’t work out.”

SHARON: “Ah…”

SHARK: “Yeah… I swear to God I ain’t built for these relationship things”

SHARON: “That’s not true. You and my daughter had a perfect relationship despite the fights. The two of you wer-“

SHARK: “Shut the fuck up yo…”

I looked away from her finding myself to be upset all over again. It was then that I realized that from the moment she said Brooklyn was about to apologize to me to fix things, my mood changed for the better, but I tried to ignore that fact, all it did was annoy me. I had a problem with Brooklyn and I had a problem with this woman standing right in front of me.

Whatever came over me a few moments ago needed to get the fuck out of my system, I wanted nothing to do with these people.

SHARON: “Excuse me?”

SHARK: “Yeah, shut the fuck up, I don’t want to hear any of that, the hell are you trying to do? Trying to get us back together again? It ain’t happening, that red head that you brought up? Guess what? I been fucking her… fucking her a lot, and tonight? I’ll probably fuck her some more. So you can go back and tell Brooklyn that.”

I stomped my foot on the floor hard as she shook her head at me.

SHARON: “Still a child, I see nothing has changed.”

SHARK: “Yeah, suck my dick bitch”

SHARON: “I think that’s my cue to leave.”

SHARK: “Step on a crack and break ya back”

She shook her head again, turning around to walk away as I opened the door.

SHARON: “Oh and James?”

The hell did she want now? I turned around one last time to see her looking up at me from the trail towards the gates.

SHARON: “For the record… I wasn’t trying to get you two back together and I won’t need to tell Brooklyn about any of this. London doesn’t need to hear about how you’ve disrespected me because honestly? He just might want to kill you.”

SHARK: “Ay, you can tell that faggot to suck my dick too”

She closed her eyes and stood there for a moment, inhaling then exhaling, for some reason she was holding back. I was pushing all her buttons but she was fighting to stay calm, which she did. After opening her eyes, she slowly nodded her head at me.

SHARON: “….As for Brooklyn, she wouldn’t be interested in hearing about you or any of this conversation. All she’ll want to know is if the twins arrived safely. She’s moved on James… just like you. In fact, she’s even been hanging around with a nice man who goes by the name of Benjamin Young”

I frowned my face at her but immediately laughed out loud.

SHARK: “Is that supposed to… supposed to what? Have me feel some sort of way? Jealousy or anger? That bitch made nigga blocked me about a year ago on Twitter after I trashed him for fighting over that Lya slut with Ryan Hall. Now he’s what? He’s spreading Brooklyn’s legs? If Brooklyn wanna downgrade… hey, that’s fine with me, watch me give a fuck…”

She shook her head.

SHARON: “She’s not sleeping with anyone, she’s been an angel unlike you. They’re just friends, but once again, it doesn’t matter. I’m not trying to play games here or get you jealous… although you sound pretty jealous.”

SHARK: “Whatever yo, what the fuck is your point?”

SHARON: “My point is, it would be nice for the two of you to be in talking terms. Don’t think about me or Brooklyn, but think about Levi and James Jr. You two don’t have to be friends or anything, just be cordial. That’s all I want.”

SHARK: “That’s what you want? Here, how about this…?”

I slowly raised my hand up in the air giving her the finger, she stood there in total disbelief, it was obvious she expected better from me, a different response, but why should I comply? Her involving the twins was just a guilt trip, fuck that manipulative bitch and her psycho ass daughter.

When I was involved with Brooklyn, I was up and down, a hit and a miss. Right before ending things with her, I was on a three match losing streak, ever since the breakup, I’ve gone on to do nothing but win and impress.

For the first time in a long time, my life was drama free.

What happens when I finally see one of those Carter bitches for the first time in months? Drama

I opened the door and walked into my crib, slamming the door shut behind me. I was still somewhat bothered and angry by Sharon’s visit but more so angry with Madison for lying to me. She was supposed to drop off the twins, she said she would and she knew exactly why I didn’t want to see Sharon.

It was like I couldn’t trust anybody nowadays, they were all backstabbers. All I wanted to do was be alone right now, I began to walk up the steps to the upstairs but something something I heard stopped me, it was a noise. I stood on the steps, still and silent, trying to see if I could hear it again as it had got my attention and then once again… there it was.

As soon as I made out what it was a smile crossed my face, a huge giant grin. Just like that, my mood changed instantly all over again, this time, from anger to joy. It was the sounds of my twins laughing. For a good moment there, I had almost forgotten all about them and even Ginger.

SHARK: “My mind ain’t right…”

I sighed and shook my head at myself, making my way down the stairs and into the living room area.

When I got there, I found both the twins laughing in their strollers, but I couldn’t see them, the back of the strollers were facing me… however, I could see why they were laughing. Ginger was crouched down in front of both strollers, entertaining them as she made some silly faces.

SHARK: “Haha ew yo… you know they’re laughing AT YOU right?”

She quickly stood up surprised and unexpected by the sound of my voice, her cheeks turned red as she covered her face smiling.

GINGER: “Oh God… did you see that?”

SHARK: “Yeah, how do I erase the disgusting image from my memory tho? Them faces bout to haunt me in my sleep.”

We both laughed as she grabbed one of the nearby pillows from the couch and tossed It at me. I caught it and threw it to the side as I jogged over to my twins and knelt down in front of them.

GINGER: “I unhooked their seatbelts so that they were more comfortable but I didn’t want to take them out and all...”

SHARK: “It’s cool”

She probably didn’t even hear me, my response came out in a tiny whisper. I was just so focused on my babies. I touched both of their faces and looked into their eyes, returning a smile back at them. It felt so weird to be around them on my own without their mother.

I began to think about how I was growing up with one parent, although these two boys would have us both, we’d be separated. I just hoped that they understood when they got older.

SHARK: “Daddy loves you two, I know I already apologized but fuck it… Ima do it again. My bad yall, I’m here now and ima always be there for the two of you whenever you need me. Levi, James, I mean it, you two are my heart, you don’t know how much Daddy really loves you two. Yall are my world, when I won this championship, I was thinking about the two of you… you both give me a ton of strength, motivation, energy and drive out in that ring, man… like yall don’t even know.”

They just stared back at me, smiling as they reached their hands out. I grabbed both of their tiny little arms and began to rub my thumbs against it, still looking into their eyes.

SHARK: “I fight for you two out there. I’m literally at war, fighting for yall. I’m fighting for your futures, so that you two can grow up and continue to have it all. I never ever want you two to go through what I went through as a child. As long as I’m around, you both are going to have the world. You see… your mother, she can do her reality TV shows, do some modelling, come out with her stank ass perfumes and maybe even get back into the ring, but you know what? Soon, people are going to realise what kind of a fake ass bitch she is, they’re-“

GINGER: “James… seriously?”

SHARK: “Ain’t nobody want to pay her and she’s going to be broke as fuck. Fuck her yo, she tried to take yall away from me. She wasn’t thinking about the two of you, she was thinking about herself, selfish ass bitch”

GINGER: “Dude… really? Stop, cut it out”

She slapped me on my back hard, I turned around and looked at her she had a disgusted look on her face.

GINGER: “Calm down… what’s with you James? Stop swearing so much in front of them. They’re here now… just enjoy their company”

I sighed knowing that she was right as I looked back at my twins.

SHARK: “Fo-Forget all that yall…. Your mother… she loves you both, she just.. she stupid sometimes man, I think she was born retarded”

GINGER: “Those are bad words too James…”

I rolled my eyes and continued.

SHARK: “But for real… I really go to war for you two. These two men… they want to take my title, they want to take what I earned… they want to take away what you two helped me achieved and… they not going to get it… not now… not ever. They can come in prepared, training camp could’ve been the best in they’ve ever experienced, they can hit me hard, push me to my limits, come in there and make it a dog fight… nothing will matter. They can do whatever they want, but as long as I have you two? As long as you two love me? Nobody can beat me. Everybody thinks my right hand is my biggest weapon, they all think that now that it's injured they can get to me... but the truth is, it's you two that are my biggest weapon, yall are the ones that keep me motiv……oh hell no….”

I was so into what I was saying that I hadn’t even noticed the two twins were sleeping. Was I that boring? I slowly turned around to look at Ginger who was giggling. I rolled my eyes a second time at her as I stood up and pushed the strollers into another room.

Everything I said…. I really meant it. It didn’t matter if Ginger was there to hear it and it didn’t matter if those twins didn’t understand a word I said. It came from the heart and it was nothing but the truth.

I had every reason to lose that match against Remington.

At the last possible moment, everything had gone to shit for me. Kadri and I had broken up, her family were looking to press charges and the Estonian police were running an investigation on me. I didn’t need any of that coming into a very game opponent like Remington.

The same guy that was coming off of the destruction of Tim Patrick and the same guy who flat out dominated Halestorm with ease, in a way I’ve never seen.

He had every reason to win, but yet, all I had to do was look at a small picture of my baby boys that was tucked away in my wallet. That’s all I fucking needed to step into that ring with all the fuel and fire in the world to light Remington up with punches and knock his head off.

Sure, I came out damaged with an injury on my hand, but this was perfect, it all played out really well.

Here I was, coming into this match with a disadvantage, my back up against the wall, with two very hungry competitors. Brett Sands felt like our match could’ve gone either way and he could’ve moved on to become champion. Jordan Caliban felt like it was an absolute MUST to win this match and shut me up for all the shit I said about him.

What better way to prove I deserved this belt and prove I was a champion than to defend this title in an impressive fashion against these two warriors under my circumstances?
I took one last look at my twins before cocking a smile. I really was a champion that was here to stay and I was just dying to say the words: “I told you so”.

I turned around and shut off the lights before leaving the room, knowing in just a few more nights I’d be shutting the lights out on my opponents and putting them to sleep.

--

SCENE003: "ENEMY TERRITORY"
MARCH 15TH 2014
KELOWNA, BC
CAMERA [REC]

Ahem….

Ladies and Gentlemen, Niggers and Niggas, and all of you PWP Folks…allow me to introduce myself… I AM, NONE OTHER THAN, YOUR UNDEFEATED, UNMATCHED, PWP, WORLD HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPION.

Remember that time I sat here and I said that nobody had anything to say against me in their promos?

Remember when I sat here and I said that they were all just talking out of their asses and that I was the only one that had the truth to speak? That they didn’t know what they were getting themselves into so I gladly told all of you what was going to happen myself?

Yeah… you know… I remember that pretty clearly because… I kinda said that I would win the whole tournament and become champion… and you know what? I sorta did that.

Call me ‘Nostradamus’ bruh… this nigga is predicting the future. Yall can say whatever you want to say, the only words that matter are the words coming right out of my fucking mouth. When James Shark speaks, yall listen.

Yes… I’m directing that at you Brett and Jordan. Say what you want, all you’re doing is making noise. Me? I’m making actions, I’m making moves, I’m making history over here.

As for this injury? I hope to GOD that yall aren’t going to be relying on it for your only chance at victory because then this match is going to be even EASIER than expected. I worked around all the holes there is to this right hand, trust me and believe me when I tell you both that I can beat you with ONE HAND, even if it is my left, one hand is all I need. You think I can’t hit hard with my left? Stick your chin out and watch how fast you go from watching my left hand coming at you to staring up at the bright lights.

Hell… I might even tie my right hand behind me. No fucks given because you goofy ass white boys don’t intimidate me one bit….

I defeated FOUR MEN in one night, you people think beating ONE will be a problem? Come on son…

And yes, I did say ONE. I’ll count Brett as a man but Jordan? That isn’t a fucking man, that is a fucking Bitch with a capital ‘B’.

All I hear from him is ‘SWAGGOT, SWAGGOT, SWAGGOT’ he’s on social media sounding like a damn broken record. I wonder how many times he’s tried to send me a tweet with twitter interrupting him with a message going: “Whoops, you’ve already tweeted that”

Like… what the fuck is that all about? I don’t even go around saying the word “swag”, who the fuck says “swag” nowadays bruh? It’s 2014…

Oh… hold up a minute. Let me guess… you’re going off on me with that word because of the name of my finisher? The Swag Out? Wow… look at you. I named my finisher that when the word was actually being used, but you know what? I’m glad you LOVE the word so much because I’m going to hit you with that move Jordan, I’m going to hit you with it so fucking hard and so fucking fast that you will never want to even say the word: “Swaggot” ever again. Why? Because it’ll remind you about my finisher and the time you got knocked the fuck out.

And oh boy, I can’t wait to do it.

I really want to give these fans a good show, but I gotta say, I’m just tempted to step forward and end this match quick. Knock you out, knock Sands out right after. I know I could do it if I wanted to. I have a strong desire to lay you out in the middle of that ring Caliban, a strong burning desire.

You’re just the biggest moron I’ve ever encountered in life bruh. How the fuck are you going to tell all your friends and family that you want this more than me? You can’t say you want it “more” than me Caliban you big fucking idiot. IF that was the case, you’d be the champion right now. Just the other day you were already making some early excuses, telling me shit like “Oh.. I don’t care if I win or lose" This is a CHAMPIONSHIP MATCH you stupid fuck… but yet… you don’t care if you win….yet….you don’t care if you lose….AND YET….you want this more than me? A nigga who wants nothing more than to WIN AND WIN ONLY?

Get the fuck out of here and take your nonsense with you. Hell… EVEN IF you DO want it more, that don’t mean shit. You can “want” it all you want, even put it on the next Christmas list, I could give a fuck about what you want, you not getting shit from me but your mouth shut.

I heard you also be saying that the way I treat my opponents is “disgusting”? My nigga, you know what’s disgusting? You, you as a human being is just disgusting. I ain’t even go to school and I swear to God I’m smarter than your bitch ass. What the hell are you doing preaching all this bullshit? Saying that you’ve beaten people like me before, saying that me winning that tournament means nothing… You fucking lost in the tournament you damn clown, that’s why it means nothing to you. If you won, it would mean the world right? You are nothing more to me than shit on the bottom of my shoe.

You think I have to respect you? Fuck you

Maybe you didn’t see my last promo before taking out Remington, who by the way is a billion trillion times more talented than you. I told him he ain’t getting respect from me, and that’s the same for ALL of my opponents, including Sands.

You hoes are my enemies, why the fuck am I supposed to respect yall?

This isn’t friendly competition nor is it a fight. It is a motherfucking war and it is kill or be killed in that ring. When that bell sounds, it’s a dog eat dog world and I can’t give you people nothing but disrespect. I got to make things mean and ugly, I got to step forward, guns blazing and get right in both of your fucking faces.

I got to come in there and take away your confidence, take away your heart, take away your biggest weapons, take away your advantages. I got to leave you two in there with nothing.

Brett, you can say whatever you want to too. I whooped your ass AND THEN beat Flex’s ass after whooping your ass. You think I can’t do it again?

What? This time will be different? Why? Because Jordan is in the ring?

Caliban doesn’t fucking exist to us bruh, you know it and I know it. That isn’t underestimating him or forgetting about him, that’s looking at the bigger picture. He doesn’t belong in that ring with us and he’s going to get squashed.

Picture you and me in that ring, and picture an annoying little fly coming in our faces every second with us swatting that fly away. That fly is Caliban and like I said… just like flies…. he’s going to get squashed.

But you? You got the same faith homeboy.

I know you respect me and I’m glad you like looking up to me, because you looking up to me describes where we are in terms of talent level. Just because we had a close match doesn’t mean we’re even Sands. It doesn’t mean we’re on the same level and it definitely don’t mean you can make it close again.

What people seem to forget is that you just couldn’t get the job done, you couldn’t find a way to put me away. I was the problem that you just couldn’t solve homie. You even hit me with that move you call “Decapitation” and guess what?

Still kicked out…

I have an answer for whatever you throw at me nigga, I already got you figured out. There’s a missing equation about me that’s driving you nuts Sands, I KNOW you can’t solve me. Ain’t no way your defeating me with your dumb jock lookin ass.

You even said it yourself in your last promo LEADING UP TO THE MATCH. What did you say again? Something like… “There’s only one person in this tournament that can stop me, defeat me, and that’s James Shark”? Something along them lines right? Well good.

I can and I did defeat you.

But here I am telling you that you can’t stop me and you can’t beat me. Here I am telling Jordan the same thing. Best believe that my black ass isn’t invincible, there ARE niggas out there that got my number, but you two aren’t one of them and never will be.

At the end of the day, you two want my title, but I got two middle fingers for you instead. Ain’t nobody taking my title because it has my name on it, my blood on it, my sweat, my tears. Everything that I have done in my career… all the opponents I’ve beaten… all the other championships I’ve won…. Everything has brought me here, to this very moment: Champion in an inter-promotional company.

Right now, I represent the best in the world, and if there be anybody from ANY company that wanna think otherwise, then all they gotta do is walk in here and try and take it from me.

Keeping this title means everything to me.

This ain’t like no other promotion man, the PWP is different, I mean… I’ve been holding this title for a fucking month now. I go everywhere with it, it’s mine, it’s a part of me and now what? Now my time is up? Now you two are just going to come into that ring and take it from me?

IN NEW YORK OF ALL PLACES!? IN FRONT OF MY FRIENDS AND THE NIGGAS I GREW UP WITH!?

Hell no. Fuck no. How can you people be so ignorant? Yall stooges are walking into enemy territory. Yall are coming into my house, mi casa.

I’m walking in Champion. I’m slapping around you bitches. I’m getting my hand raised, and I’m leaving Champion. Period. Point. Blank. Fin.

James Shark is winning this match, he’s winning this match in James Shark fashion. As quickly and as violently as possible. Dooon’t believeeee meeeee, jusssssssssssst waaaaaatch.

……as always.

Young Man: You have got to be kidding me, right?

The young man began to pace around the living room, from one end of the coffee table in the middle of the room to the other. I sigh as I get up from my seat on the couch and begin heading towards the kitchen, not caring enough to hear what my worker has to say. As I make my way to the kitchen, I hear thunderous footsteps following up behind me, sighing again as I know the young man is about to come to the kitchen and annoy the shit out of me there.

Brett Sands: *whispering* Here we go again...

Young Man: Why in the hell are you walking away from me?

I stop in my tracks, allowing the young man to catch up to me.

Brett Sands: Because I really don’t have an interest in what you have to say. I’ve already called my agent and told him to tell Duncan that I’ll be good to go for that match.

A couple of days before the next card for Pro Wrestling Project was announced, Josh Duncan had called my agent and asked him if I wanted to be on this next card. At first, I signed up just to end up crushing someone in the middle of that ring. I almost thought about pulling myself from this booking so I could take a nice break before this next tag team match in this PDW Tag title tournament, where I had so “luckily” been paired with someone who despised me in Leander Apollo.

But then came that damn Twitter poll. The poll that had two people on it, the winner earning themselves a shot at the same man I had lost to in that tournament a couple of weeks ago. The same man who was crowned the first ever PWP Heavyweight champion. James Shark. And what happened? I ended up being one of those names and ended up in a draw against Jordan fucking Caliban. So, here I was, a day after that goddamn poll, ready to go into a damn triple threat.

Young Man: Dude, why are you heading back to Pro Wrestling Project? You didn’t win the title and they ain’t offering you anything PDW can’t top.

Brett Sands: Sometimes, it isn’t about the money. Though I love making a lot of money, I also love winning gold, and with the way that poll ended up, I got another chance at snagging even more gold and being one of the best in this damn business.

Young Man: So, is the PWP title just gonna be a bargaining chip for you when you try and weasel your way back into EXODUS?

Brett Sands: Weasel?

A smirk appears on my face at the mention of that word. Slowly turning, I eye the young man from head to toe before taking a step forward, my height and weight advantage being enough to force him to take a step back and away from me.

Brett Sands: Weasel? Is that what you think I’m trying to do here? Is that what you think, boy?

Young Man: No, of course not.

He’s obviously lying. I can tell by the sweat that is starting to appear on his forehead. After spending a few days working with this kid, I noticed that that was a quirky little thing about him. He sweats when he lies and right now, he’s lying more than Nixon during one of his Presidential speeches.

Brett Sands: You’re lying.

I take another step forward and this time, I make sure he doesn’t take a step back as I grab the collar of his dark blue tee. He seems to have fear in his eyes as I keep him close before speaking again, tilting my head to the right as I do so.

Brett Sands: Now, how about you tell me the truth before I cripple you right here, right now? It’s the least you could do considering how much I pay you to do remedial work, ya little waste of life.

The young man is too scared to even try and take offense to what I just called him. He takes his right hand and wipes the sweat off of his forehead before deciding to speak up, taking a gulp of courage beforehand.

Young Man: I just think the way you’re trying to get back into EXODUS is...well, I’ve only seen bitches try and get their way like that.

Brett Sands: Here’s the difference between me and the others who have tried to do what I’m about to do, with assistance from your scrawny ass. I’m smarter. I’m stronger. I’m deadlier. Think they’ll come knocking at my door after all this goes down by themselves, knowing it was me, or do you think they’ll be scratching their heads after it all goes down, unable to pin it on me?

Young Man: I think you’re trying to get us to play with fire and we might just get burned. And if we get burned, it won’t be like we put our hand on the hot stove. It’ll be like we went inside of a burning building and rolled in the flames.

I release his collar and he fixes his shirt before taking a step back. The smirk on my face remains as I continue to stare down the young man, making sure he kept eye contact with me as well.

Brett Sands: We’re not going to be rolling around in flames, boy. We are going to be swimming in gold after we go through with this. When I get my EXODUS job back, you’ll not only be able to pay your mommy’s hospital bills, but you’ll be able to buy her a nice house, pay for the remainder of your school, and all that other shit.

Young Man: And if we fail?

Brett Sands: Don’t worry. There is no way we are failing at this.

The young man sighs before he leans up against the kitchen door frame, while I walk into the kitchen and over to the fridge. Opening the fridge, I pull out a carton of orange juice as I hear the young man clear his throat once more, which immediately tells me that he’s ready to say something else. Sighing, I close the fridge door and turn around with the carton of orange juice in my hands.

Brett Sands: Something else on your mind?

Young Man: Yeah. I STILL don’t understand why you had to sign up for yet ANOTHER PWP card. I mean, what do you get from it besides a title victory?

I sigh once more as I walk over to one of the kitchen cabinets and open its door before pulling out a glass. Setting down the glass and twisting the cap off of the carton, I pour the juice into the glass. I keep my focus on that as I speak to my employee.

Brett Sands: What do I get from this besides another title victory? I mean, besides the fact that this would make Heavyweight title number three for yours truly, how about the fact that the champion is a HUGE name?

Young Man: James Shark?

I nod my head as I finish pouring the orange juice in the glass. Closing up the carton, I set it down right next to the glass before turning my attention to this fuckboy.

Brett Sands: Precisely. Shark’s held probably twice, if not three times as much gold as I have. As much as I hate giving others praise when they get enough, dude is a future hall of famer.

Young Man: Ok...

Brett Sands: Now imagine how good you have to be to defeat such a man. More than likely, you are someone who has people’s attention if you were able to stop THE James Shark. I want that.

Am I greedy? Fuck yeah, I am. I’ll take anything I fucking want and I won’t look back and regret doing so. That has been my motto ever since I fucking stepped into wrestling and until someone could actually put an end to me, it is going to stay that fucking way.

The young man skeptically looks at me before leaning off of the door frame and taking a step towards me.

Young Man: So, you wanna beat James Shark so people will talk about you?

Brett Sands: MORE. So MORE people can talk about me. I’ve already got the buildup for the hype, starting off two and zero in PDW and pinning a former EXODUS Pro World champion in my second match there. Plus, the whole WCE triple champion and shit. I just need to have that one moment where I pull off something that gets the people unable to rid the name Brett Sands from their minds.

Young Man: I thought you didn’t care about what people thought of you?

I grab my glass and raise it off of the counter while keeping eye contact with the young man.

Brett Sands: I still don’t. But if they talk about me, whether good or bad, then it forces these fucking owners to pay me even more to wrestle for them. Shit, if I pin Shark, it might even force those EXODUS fucks to take me back and pay me even more than before.

Young Man: So, what you’re saying is, a win over Shark could lead to me making even more money?

I shake my head as I swirl the juice in the glass.

Brett Sands: Sure, that could be a possibility.

Young Man: Then you better get to training then. You’ve got a Heavyweight title to win and neither Shark or Caliban are going to roll over for you.

Brett Sands: Well, Caliban might...it might be the only way he survives this match.

Young Man: Damn, that’s such an asshole thing to say.

I do a sort of “cheers” motion with the glass before taking a nice chug out of the glass, drinking at least a quarter of the juice. I then look back at the young man and speak to him once I have ingested the juice.

Brett Sands: Hello, I’m Brett Sands. I’m a damn good wrestler, got a god-like physique, and am a complete asshole.
-----


“Jordan Caliban.

Do you understand the magnitude of the match you have so kindly been given a chance to be involved in? Do you understand how high the stakes are? Do you understand what it means if you- I’m sorry, WHEN you fail?

It means that you’ll continue to be looked at the same exact way by people as they have looked at you before. A nobody. Nothing more than a wrestler who opens cards up and fights his little heart out before heading to the back and watching talents like myself and the top champ fight in those main events. Really, you can say that you have absolutely nothing to lose and everything to gain from this match, huh? Am I right or am I right, Jordan? Let’s look at it like this.

First, the big gold belt isn’t around your waist. Second, you are considered the underdog in this match because of your size and because of the fact that you really just aren’t as good as someone like me. And third, with a loss here, you just go back to doing what you were doing. You don’t get set to the back of the line because you have a permanent residence there. A loss to you wouldn’t be as damaging as it would be to me.

But the funny thing is, you still have a chance. Hey, I’m an asshole, but at least I can admit that when both Shark and I get bored of beating you like a fucking mule, we will end up focusing on each other. We will put each other through wrestling hell and you might just have a brain somewhere in there where it’s gonna end up telling you to stay out of the way and wait until one of us is knocked out before taking advantage and stealing victory. You know, it’s just an idea that you could utilize since we know you won’t be able to outwrestle either of us.

Although, I doubt that you will get the chance to do so. I believe Shark had it best when he said that the match would be between him and myself and you are going to be nothing more than a fly that we swat away every single time it tries to come near us. To put it up as an example, imagine Shark and I are the jocks sitting at the cool kids table and you are the nerd trying to force your way in. This may sound closer to how your high school years that you might like and I apologize for that. Those swirlies you received daily must have been real hell. Wish I could have been that person to give you that fucking swirly. But, back to my point on how you are the nerd and we’re the jocks. You’re gonna try to squeeze in, but we will end up just throwing you in the trash can and rolling you down the hallway.

You’re gonna try your little heart out. There is no doubt about that. You’re gonna try and pull each and every trick you have in the pockets of those god awful, $5 trunks that you wear down to the ring. But in the end, talent is gonna have to make a play sometime in this match, as it does in all matches, and you’re gonna see how over your head you are being in this match. You’re gonna see how these dogs are much more vicious than the puppies you’ve been playing around with. You’re gonna be end up getting crushed like a cockroach at an Italian restaurant that got a D- from the health department. And normally, I would at least feel a little bad about having to crush someone like you.

But then you began to run your mouth on Twitter, of all things. You began to call our opponent a swaggot and even took shots at me. And the funny thing is that even after I stopped giving you my precious attention, you just kept on going. You continued to shoot series of tweets at me and all I could do was sit back in my nice ass condo here in San Diego and just laugh my ass off. I laughed my ass off because all it took was really one tweet and you ended up becoming like one of the bitches I fuck and leave afterwards. You couldn’t stop tweeting at me. It was just that easy to rile you up.

And this is the moment where you have to come to terms and realize that the tweeting game you put up won’t be matched by your wrestling game. It is time to realize that you might have just typed some tweets that you want to take back, but can’t. You talked yourself up so greatly that you convinced people that putting you in this match might be a good idea because you could actually give Shark a real good fight. But when the time comes, you’re gonna enter that ring and you are gonna flop worse than Hasheem Thabeet. If you don’t know who that is, then I suggest you Google him, fuckboy. He might just be someone you might have to look up to while you are busy wrestling for a tenth of the money either Shark or myself make.

It’s a horrible realization, really. It must suck to know that at this next Pro Wrestling Project card, you’re going to be a zebra walking into a cage filled with tigers. It must suck to know that you will never be talented enough to ever reach the heights myself and Shark have both reached multiple times. It just must suck to be you because I’d probably hang myself if I was you and knew I was a worthless talent who lucked into a title shot and that my wife was actually my right hand. You know, since you seem to mention her a lot but no one has seen her.

And let’s be honest here. This is your career highlight right here. This will be the greatest loss you have ever suffered because with this loss, you’ll learn that you aren’t heavyweight or even world champion material. With this loss, you will learn, and I really hate to say this because I hate this saying, but with this loss, you will learn to stay in your lane. You will learn to fade into obscurity and have your little tweets where you send me a whole fucking essay of them for a reply.

Before I get to the actual serious competition in this match, I’m gonna have fun beating you to a pulp. I’m gonna beat the hell out of you so badly, I might just knock the annoying out of you. I’ll hurt you so badly that you might learn to never tweet me again. When you see “at The Brett Sands”, you won’t attempt to even tweet at me. When you see me retweet every single stupid thing that you tweeted to me and laugh my ass off while doing so. Shit, if I have a minute to spare for you, I’ll even tweet at you after I become the PWP Heavyweight champion. Maybe send a positive word your way so you can print it and ask to get it signed by me whenever I have one of those autograph sessions.

You are the underdog, but even you know that you won’t win. You tweeted it out yourself. You MIGHT lose. You see, that right there tells me all I need to know. I don’t care if you’ll buck right back up after the loss, but the fact that you think you might lose tells me that you WON’T win. I said before that you might luck into victory if Shark and I brutalize each other beforehand. But know this. I expect to walk out of this match as the new champion. While I give you a chance, it does not mean that I think I MIGHT lose. It means that I know the odds. And that’s all they are to me. Odds.

Give it your all, Jordan. Train as hard as you can. Learn a new move. And when the match starts, fight with all of your heart, because that’s all you can do.

I will drop you on your ass at the first chance I get. Can you say that you will be able to do the same?”
------


Dr. Walchik: Ah, Brett! Come on in!

I had been waiting in that damn waiting room for almost an hour. My ass had been planted on that one seat where you could look at the television screen perfectly, so that way the time would tick faster, but after 45 minutes of Family Feud, I was closing in on blowing my brains out and being done with it. Jesus Christ, I still hate Family Feud.

I groaned as I got off of my seat and made my way up to Dr. Walchik, the doctor that WCE staff had recommended for each and every one of us for our basic health needs and for drug testing. I passed all the other people in the waiting room, most of them seeming like some prep school athletes ready to take their first piss test. I nodded my head at Dr. Walchik before walking up to him and shaking his hand.

Brett Sands: I’m glad I finally get to get my ass off of that seat. Was getting too interested in this family feud. This one bitch named Jennifer been fucking her whole family over, always guessing wrong and shit.

Dr. Walchik chuckled as he kept that manilla folder with my name on it gripped tightly to his hands. I focused on the folder for just a split second before turning my attention back to the doctor.

Dr. Walchik: Ah, yes. I really should get the channel changed sometimes. Maybe put it to a WCE show.

Dr. Walchik winked at me and I couldn’t help but chuckle at the fact that he made the most subtle hint about putting on the channel that showed WCE, my place of employment at the time. Lightly slapping the doctor on the arm, we both turned around and headed through the open doorway to the back offices. As we made the walk to Dr. Walchik’s office, I surveyed the hallways, looking at the different pictures throughout the area.

Brett Sands: These drawings....are they done by the same person?

Dr. Walchik: It’s about three or four people who draw these paintings. Local artists who have some talent.

Brett Sands: Ah, ok. I can see the generosity there.

I didn’t really give that much of a shit. I just didn’t want it to be an awkwardly quiet walk to Dr. Walchik’s office.

Once arriving to his office, the doctor opened the door and motioned for me to enter the room first. I nodded my head and mouthed the word “thanks” before entering the office. The lights had been kept on, so I made my way towards one of the two patient chairs and sat down while the doctor closed the door and made his way around the desk before sitting in his chair.

Brett Sands: So, what’s up, doc? Seemed like that call was pretty urgent and I tried to make it here as fast as I possibly could. Traveling, wrestling, and all that has been keeping me pretty busy lately.

I was one of the premier talents of WCE at the time. I was the WCE United States champion for the second time ever, and this time, I was looking at something even greater for the future. The same belt that Rip Bash, my mentor, was thinking of giving up so he could retire.

Dr. Walchik: Ah, yes. Well, you know how you took that drug test about a week ago?

Brett Sands: The one that cost WCE a lot of money for me to take? Yeah, I remember it. So, the news is about this? What’s up?

I hadn’t really noticed at the time, but the doctor had sort of this disappointing look on his face as he set down the manilla folder and opened it. I just kept a big grin on my face like I was some fucking moron as he sifted through all of the papers until he got to the last one. When he cleared his throat in order to begin his process of reading me my results, I raised my hand up and stopped him.

Brett Sands: Doc, I know what you’re gonna say to me. You’re pretty much gonna tell me that I’m as healthy as a horse and as clean as Aquafina water, right?

Dr. Walchik: Actually, Brett...

Brett Sands: What? I’m not clean? I ain’t touched shit since college. My bong has been retired and this physique I possess is all lifting weights and shit.

Dr. Walchik: No, you are clean. You will be cleared to defend your title in however many days you have left until that pay-per-view. You see, there was something off about your test results though...

Brett Sands: What is it?

I was actually curious. The last thing I needed was something terrible to happen to me that would keep me sidelined from wrestling for any period time, if not forever. I had a wife and a kid on the way to support. I needed to continue wrestling.

Dr. Walchik: Brett, I have no idea how to really tell you this.

Brett Sands: Do I have like AIDS or something? Did I possibly pass it on to Melissa?

Melissa and I had gotten married about two months prior while she was three months pregnant with my child. I had been a manwhore beforehand, so the possibility of me having some kind of disease wouldn’t have surprised me, though thinking about it, I hadn't had sex with anyone else in months.

Dr. Walchik: Brett...you’re infertile.

The news didn’t really hit me at first. I stared at the doctor, not really knowing how to respond, considering the news was still traveling to my brain, but was apparently taking a detour along the way.

I was infertile, meaning I couldn’t give birth to any children. How this happened, I didn’t know. All I knew was that the child I thought I had made with the woman who was then known as my wife wasn’t mine. I had spent months being kind to her and had done everything for her. I bought a house. I bought her an engagement ring. I brought her home to my mother. I married her. I cared for that child and I was being told it wasn’t mine. It’s like finding out you scored a touchdown, but your offensive linemen was penalized for holding.

Brett Sands: Doc, please tell me you aren’t saying what I think you are saying. Because if you are, I...I don’t know what exactly I would do, really.

Dr. Walchik sighed as I stared down at the ground, trying to hold back any tears that would come pouring down my face from this news. It was heartbreaking, to say the least.

I was trying to become a better man for her and this baby. I gave up smoking cigarettes. I gave up drinking until the day the baby would be born. I even toned down my brutal style of wrestling for her, not wanting to traumatize her by seeing someone else’s blood. The fact that she was stringing me along like a fool pissed me off.

Dr. Walchik: I’m sorry, Brett. There is no way that baby is yours.

Brett Sands: SON OF A BITCH!

I just snapped. It seemed like I was going back to the old Brett as I jumped out of my seat, grabbed the doctor by the collar, and pulled him over his desk and onto my side before dropping him on the floor, knocking off the glasses on his face.

Dr. Walchik: Brett...please don’t hurt me!

The doctor threw up his hands, hoping to protect himself in any way possible from me and the beating I felt like unleashing on him for the news he had just given me. Huffing and puffing, the doctor sat by my feet, not wanting to make a move against me.

Brett Sands: I....won’t hurt you. You don’t deserve to be handed pain that is meant for others. You don’t deserve to be broken in half for telling me the truth. Thank you, doctor. I will never return here. I...am sorry you had to give me such news. I know you probably didn’t want to.

With that, I walked away from the doctor and walked right out of his office, leaving him on the ground, where he continued to keep his guard up.

Where was I heading next? Home. Some whore had to explain what the hell was exactly going on.
----


“The only man I can truly say that I respect here in Pro Wrestling Project is none other than the PWP Heavyweight champion, James Shark. No, I don’t respect him because he holds the only title offered up by this company, but because of the shit he has done before he became PWP Heavyweight champion. I’ve told Shark this before. Even said it on my last on camera PWP appearance. I respect Shark because no matter how much people hate him, he always does his damn job by himself. Sort of like how yours truly needs no backup to pick up his own victories. When it comes down to it, James Shark wins for James Shark just like Brett Sands wins for Brett Sands.

Another thing that I guess you could say makes me respect James Shark even more is the fact that he doesn’t hold his tongue. If he’s got something to say, you bet your ass he’s gonna say whatever it is, whether it offends you or not. That’s something I do a lot of too. The fact that Shark is willing to speak his mind is sort of freeing in this business, considering most people like to keep their lips shut because they think they might hurt someone’s feelings or some shit. So, there’s another thing I respect about James Shark.

But, this doesn’t really matter in this PWP Heavyweight championship match, does it? I mean, Shark gets that I respect him and I can assume that he at least respects me more than all the other fucks who appeared in this tournament, which is okay by me. In the end though, Shark isn’t really gonna give a shit that I respect him and vice versa. We have already proven it that one of us isn’t willing to lie down for the other so they can get an easy pin. We proved it when we went head-to-head for over twenty minutes and Shark managed to be the only man, like I predicted, who could beat me and stop my descent to becoming the top champion of this place by knocking me out. And yes, I will not deny that Shark has a clean victory against me. He indeed does have that over me.

But now, both he and I will be at 100% heading into this match. We won’t have wrestled two other matches which lasted over ten minutes each or somewhere near that for each. It’ll be a full fueled James Shark taking on a full fueled Brett Sands taking on that third guy who could be two tanks full and still wouldn’t be able to match the danger both Shark and I possess. This time, when we butt heads, it’s going to be with both of us having been treated to some relaxation and some preparation.

And Shark knows this championship match is between me and him. Jordan Caliban might as well be one of those fat fucks in the front row wearing a Sylar Drake tee. Shark knows that the only challenge he has is me and he intends on walking out with his title, even going as far as to tag me and our other opponent and tell us that he’ll beat us, just like that. By that, he means that he believes he can defeat me once more and walk away STILL the PWP champion. Shark believes in himself, just like I believe in myself. Shame that only one of us can be right about this.

The funniest thing is that Shark’s main attack point for me has disappeared now. Before, he stated that the only reason I was here was for the gold. I am man enough to admit that that was indeed what I was here for. I wanted to add more gold to my trophy case. But now? What now? I signed up to appear on this card before that poll. In fact, I had no idea I was going to be an option on the poll. I believe they would put Flex and someone like TJ Codair down. So, what now, Shark? Am I here for the gold? Yup. But is that all I’m here for? Nope. Why am I here? Maybe I’ll answer that at a later point when I have the PWP Heavyweight title around my waist.

So, what’s your next attacking point, Shark? That you beat me over a month ago? Is that going to end up being your main attack point when you get in front of the camera and do what you do better than anyone else? Are you going to trash talk me about how you managed to get one victory because I can sit here and tell you how many people have managed to get ONE win over me. The wins and losses mean a lot to you, so you might just do that. I hope you don’t, but who knows? Maybe you’ll trash talk the topic well enough to have me believing that I can’t beat you....NAH. I’ll stare at you from across the ring whether you embarrass the shit out of me during your on camera time or not.

As for me, I’ll be in that ring. And I won’t be focusing on the goals and losses, but on the prize. You see, compared to you, my career record is absolute garbage. My record makes me look like a decent wrestler, but not a good enough one to get in the ring with the great James Shark and survive, sort of like Caliban. But, I take a different mindset to wrestling. I see it as the ultimate goal being achieved. Wins and losses? I don’t care if I only have seven career victories as long as those seven have been victories that have either padded up my trophy case or made me a threat.

And you know this, Shark. As much respect as I got for you, you know that I’m the biggest possible threat you can have at your title for the time being because I gave you the greatest fight during that tournament. I was the only one who could actually beat you just like you were the only one who could actually beat me. As much respect as I have for you, you know I’ll have to treat you just as badly, if not worse, inside of that ring as our fuckboy of an opponent here. I will look to hurt you in any possible way and I will take advantage of any opportunity given to me.

You know this is the rematch for Brett Sands vs James Shark. You know that if it’s just us two in the match and we have managed to completely destroy Jordan Caliban, it is going to be a collision to watch. You know that if I pin your shoulders to the mat, I will be the only man who can possibly do that to you in this company. Not Caliban, not Flex, not even Codair or whoever the fuck you faced in the round before you got to me.

You go ahead and put up the front that you are going to easily walk away with the strap. I’ll be in the ring and ready to make sure that if you somehow walk away with that title again, it won’t be the easy way. You’ll break a sweat, that’s for sure. Shit, you might bleed, depending on the rules. You’ll feel pain and you’ll give some too. You’ll feel exhausted, but you’ll keep fighting, because like me, you always do. You might even have to decimate me inside of that ring. Maybe you’ll rearrange my whole fucking face and I won’t be this ‘pretty boy’ anymore. And maybe I’ll bust you open just for god damn fun. A lot of crazy shit can happen on this night, but I can’t NOT see myself walking out as the PWP Heavyweight champion.

So, go ahead and get yourself a match for the next PWP card. Make the assumption that you’ll walk out champ and go ahead and tell that Lifer bitch that he can get a shot at your title. It’ll be a nice surprise when he sees your name next to his and notices that the title isn’t with you. Go ahead and book yourself with the PWP cards for the entire year and get yourself some of these pussies who block you on Twitter all of the time. Just know that if you face Zack Lifer at the next PWP card, it won’t be for the strap you now hold in your hands.

You have already tried to look past me and this entire match. That’s a mistake. A mistake I am willing to capitalize on. A mistake I’m willing to exploit. A mistake that could very well make me the next PWP Heavyweight champion.

I want that strap. And at PWP 6, you are going to have to go through hell to keep me away from it.”