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Topics - Artemis Kaiser

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1
Non-Active Talent / SHIDO [#4CWSnuffFest]
« on: July 09, 2019, 10:50:53 PM »


SHIDO


GENERAL INFO
RING NAME: SHIDO
NICKNAME: The Heavenly Yaksha
DATE OF BIRTH: March, 24, 1992
HEIGHT: 6'1"
WEIGHT: 232 Lbs.
BILLED FROM: The Edge of Reality
PRO DEBUT: 2017
HARDCORE/DEATHMATCH EXPERIENCE: 2 Years
ALIGNMENT: Heel
ENTRANCE MUSIC: "The Man Who Sold The World" by Midge Ure
PICBASE: Taecyeon
TWITTER HANDLE: @heavenlyyaksha



LIST OF ACCOMPLISHMENTS
x1 Elyisum Pro World Champion - Longest Reigning



APPEARANCE/RING GEAR
White Trunks, kickpads, and kneepads with a heavenly aesthetic all around it.

PERSONALITY/TRAITS
SHIDO, on the offset, appears as a mostly benign man who just happens to carry an oversized ego. Any person who deeply believes that they're a walking reincarnation of a higher power/species must have that trait, but it doesn't come with any sort of overtly anti-social attributes. If anything, he's an exuberant thespian, who seems to take some inspiration from Prince, David Bowie, and some other superstars of that caliber. Do not the pomp, circumstance, and admirably apt fashion sense fool you. SHIDO carries a horrific will to harm other people for the sake of his destiny and his obsessive will to see himself at the top of the human world. As seen in some of his histories, he's not above competing in bloodbaths to prove a point.



WEAPON OF CHOICE
He has no preferred weapon.

MOVE SET
1. Running Corner Dropkick -> Legsweep -> Slingshot Corner Dropkick
2. Half Nelson Suplex
3. Rolling Wheel Kick
4. Fireman's Carry Spinebuster
5. Release Dragon Suplex
6. Pop Up Knee Strike
7. Sling Blade
8. Spinning Headlock Elbow Drop
9. Moonsault
10. Flapjack


FIGHTING STYLE
For a general visualization, he moves around the ring like Tama Tonga, rolling and scooting around to get a better footing against her opponents. On an offensive level, he's very grounded in King's Road wrestling from AJPW. You get slow, methodical, and stiff blows meant to demoralize and show off how much superior he is. The takeaway from this is not the usual establishment of "WOW, HE KICKS REALLY HARD", but more so that he's a scientist in terms of martial arts. Finally, stack on top of the psychological nuances that classic Goldust brought. He's very...personal. He doesn't care for your feelings, but he does like to make you uncomfortable. Feel free to have him get a bit...perverse in his matches. He's a creepy dude.

Matches are depicted with him playing a personal nerve with his recognized enemy. In a standard affair, he will spend a good amount of the match "stealing" the pace away from his opponent. He'll let them play their game before taking control with a clever move. That's his primary strength. His perceptive ability outranks many, operating on an NFL quarterback level. However, that shifts him away from being able to dictate a match. He's so used to his style that he doesn't know how to deal with surprises nor those who have perfected their own style. 100% technical wrestlers will always give him trouble since they can disable him over time. He excels against high flyers since they need momentum to beat him. Victory comes for Shido when he can put down his opponent after he shocks them and renders their burst of offense obsolete.


SIGNATURE
1. Bloodstained Love Story Wrist Clutch Exploder
2. FOXDIE Virus Cattle Mutilation
3. Dragonslayer Suplex Front Butterfly Suplex
4. Down From The Heavens Frog Splash
5. Ageless Classic Brainbuster


FINISHER
1. When God Comes Back Lariat / Shingo Takagi's Pumping Bomber
2. Outer Heaven Taiji Ishimori's Bloody Cross
3. Zero Mortals Plan Tiger Driver


TAUNTS
1. SHIDO will sit next to his opponent, smacking them on the back of the head to get up.
2. Stopping mid-attack to wipe some sweat off before smacking an opponent.
3. Sitting down on an opponent's back and checking his nails.
4. Spitting on his opponent and telling them that they should be grateful for it.




ENTRANCE
Code: [Select]
[center][i]★ WE PASSED UPON THE STAIR
[b]WE SPOKE OF WAS AND WHEN
ALTHOUGH I WASN'T THERE
HE SAID I WAS HIS FRIEND ★[/i][/center]

The whole arena's feed slowly falls into a grayscale. Stepping onto the stage with his head held high, SHIDO makes his appearance to the Elysium audience. His body clashes with the singular lighting fixture hovering above him, making a shadowy figure out of the man. He stands there, solemn in his aura, and slowly brings his head down. SHIDO drives his fingers through his hair, forcing it down for only a moment, an action to tide the storm raging inside of his mind. With a single crack of both sides of his neck, SHIDO starts down the ramp. He flaunts his black jacket white specks polluting the front of it. As he walks with intense purpose, the camera catches the back of his jacket--"Human" is the only word that can possibly describe SHIDO.

[center][i]★ OH NO, NOT ME
I NEVER LOST CONTROL
YOU'RE FACE TO FACE
WITH THE MAN WHO SOLD THE WORLD ★[/i][/center]

SHIDO drags himself onto the ring apron, relaxing on it. He lowers his body down, hanging by his arm on the rope. When he hits the apron, he stretches all the way out and slides into the ring. Lying there for only a second, SHIDO shoots back onto his feet with a kip-up. Twirling around, SHIDO finds relaxation in his presence, stopping in the center of the ring. He spreads his arms out for a moment, tilting his head back up. When his arms fall, his head falls, and he stands in the center of the spotlight, of his own reality. From there, SHIDO, the enigmatic figure that he is, readies himself for what is to come.

POST MATCH CELEBRATION
After every victory, SHIDO will customarily stand on top of his opponent's fallen body, strike a heavenly pose, and then scrap his boots on his opponents as he makes his leave. Not at all looking at them.



Upon signing the contract, each participant has to sign a waiver due to the violent nature of this tournament and if the waiver is refused, the participant is hereby removed from the tournament. Think before you sign because you can not back out later.

2
Adrenaline / Strength.
« on: February 03, 2019, 11:58:03 PM »

⭗⭗⭗

Was it uplifting to know that the world went silent when Artemis Kaiser lost? No one expected Artemis to lose, which meant that people respected her performances before Winter Wasteland. It meant people believed into her hype, even if just for a moment. Winter Wasteland was supposed to be business as usual to some people. In 4CW, the land where the best of the best come to fight, there shouldn’t be any surprises when certain results come out.

Viduus Morta ended the reign of Artemis Kaiser’s world title reign, dooming her to the fate of being a transitional champion. When Artemis picked herself off the mat, walked herself back without the extra fifteen pounds of gold on her shoulder, she didn’t feel as bad as she thought she would. Realistically, her brain began to try to piece together what went wrong, what was the mistakes in her gameplan. The sting of losing the championship didn’t exactly resonate with Artemis because there was a part of her DNA that prevented it.

A champion comes back for what is taken from them.

Artemis wandered the earth with a lost essence to herself. When she was at the Phe Awards, she got to see the adoration and respect people had for her. The people nominated and voted her as the best female wrestler of the year. The frozen still of her holding the award high with the conflicted expression on her face came into view but faded just as soon as it came.

“Bryan, I should congratulate you.”

It’s her voice overlaying the video feed, where she wandered around the backstage area after Winter Wasteland went off the air. She wasn’t hurt beyond the normal aches and pains. In those moments, a competitor might find themselves alone, and once the adrenaline left, there was only raw emotion. Artemis didn’t cry, no, that wasn’t the kind of person she was. If anything, she just left the arena hungry for another shot, for another reign, for another chance to shine brighter than the rest of the 4CW roster.

The video was set in the past but there was no more time to reflect on that. The next sight was the destroyed pieces of the Ignition Championship laid out in front of Artemis’ boots. As the camera panned up, it revealed her looking down at the championship with a sullen look on her face. She tilted her head to the side, remarking on just how badly Laughlin bashed the championship with that sledgehammer. Giving the pieces a soft kick, Artemis brought the camera’s focus back to her face.

“You finally got your shot again. Your performance with the Ignition Championship and beyond that finally caught Perry’s eye and he decided to give you what you and Jett always wanted. I’m sorry that it wasn’t me standing there, waiting for you to arrive. I know I was looking forward to our match to see if you could really pull that trigger. Alas, unfortunate things happened--”

The supposed nightmare of Artemis’ life, the moment where Viduus put her down for the count, blasted the screen. As it faded, Artemis didn’t seem disturbed by the appearance of the material. If anything, she carried a strangely gleeful expression on her face, excited and anticipating.

“Now I’m standing here on my first night back, looking across the ring at you. I’ll let you in on a secret, Mr. Laughlin.”

She beckoned the camera closer to whisper into the microphone.

“There was a time where I dreaded this match. Maybe because I saw you as the most dangerous person in 4CW. You’re more dangerous than Dakota Smith. He’s a deathmatch wrestler to me. He can make me hurt but you were a murderer. You might have been the one to kill me and that worried me for a second. This is back when you were the man that people believed you were the dark horse. You put Anastasia Hayden down one-on-one. You took years off of Bronx’s life. If anyone asked me about you, I would say that I had a lot of work to do to beat you at that time.”

Artemis shrugged the thought away casually before pushing the camera back to its original spot.

“Times change. Back then, people were saying that you deserved a shot at the 4CW Championship more than anyone else. Or that might have been Jett Wilder screaming loud enough for ten people, but I digress. Nowadays, Perry came up to your door and told you that it was finally time for Bryan Laughlin to get that shot--no, not the one at Episode 81. No, definitely not the one at Ante Up. Retrograde’s really the time for Laughlin to take what he deserves.”

Artemis clapped once, just a solitary, robust time for the cause.

“You’re at the last rung of the ladder, but it’s just like in the Warzone. This time, it’s positioned to be different. You’re in the best shape of your life. You put that terrible drama with your wife behind you. You have everything lined up perfectly to be able to take that championship away from that chalk-faced bastard. So what does this match at Adrenaline mean in the grand scheme? I’ve thought about it over the past two weeks. What does it mean for Bryan Laughlin to face Artemis Kaiser?”

A pause for the audience to answer the question themselves.

“It might have made more sense when I was champion. Maybe if I came back on the next Adrenaline instead of taking a short leave of absence. Now it just seems that I’m a checkpoint for you, a warmup of the highest caliber. You drop me and you just beat the last champion. It means that your spot as the number one contender is bonafide, there are no challengers to that spot.”

“But what does the match mean to me?” Artemis scratched idly at her eyebrow, trying her best to find the best way to continue, “I guess we start at why I was gone for a little while.”

“I could have said that it was because of my match with Aurora in NEO. I did need time to prepare for that match but that would be a lie. It wasn’t because I was all heartbroken because I lost my championship like DeMarcus Gresham, Finn Whelan, and many others--please, I’m tougher than that. I don’t get depressed when I lose. I don’t go find some cult to cry to. I readjust and come back to conquer the grind all over again. But after the readjusting, what kept me away?”

“Really, I took a month off because there wasn’t anything that immediately interested me. I didn’t want to run straight for another championship to fill the 4CW Championship shaped hole. I couldn’t go back for the 4CW Championship, because I don’t have that rematch clause and there wasn’t any braindead GMs to mind fuck to get a match,”
she giggled darkly, “I didn’t have a tag team partner for that godforsaken tournament. Anastasia’s not back yet for us to fight just yet. So if I couldn’t come back to get the thing I wanted, what good would I be other than fighting people like Riley Savell or 4CW’S HOTTEST NEW SIGNEE, ERIK HOLLAND.”

Artemis barely could contain herself from laughter upon the end of her statement.

“No, it was when I got the call to sign onto this match, that I felt the fire to come back home. I was going to ask for this match but it seemed that the world was playing in my favor. Artemis Kaiser versus Bryan Laughlin on network television? That’s a hell of a way to spice up a card, don’t you think? As such, I couldn’t help but be excited like a fucking schoolgirl on prom night.”

Artemis played the role up, patting her scarred face, her cheeks, like her whole face was red and on fire. She covered her eyes in an attempt to hide her falsified timidness from the camera. Yet, soon, she dragged her hands down her face, revealing the more familiar vile gaze behind them.

“But I used to dread fighting you? What made me change my mind?”

She blinked at the camera blankly as though the audience already knew the answer. When the obvious silence came to greet her, Artemis started to laugh.

“Because I always love making people’s lives difficult. For a short while there, I was fucking up the 4CW formula, huh? People had to come up with every reason to try to lessen my impact in my first year here. I was just another flash-in-the-pan wrestler like Felicity. I was just the Ignition Champion. I didn’t beat anyone important. Then I won the 4CW Championship in the match of the year. I got two of those pretty Phe Awards to cap the year off.”

The Phe Female Wrestler of the Year held up her trophy, giving the camera the red carpet smile before putting it down on a table nearby.

“I figured out during these two weeks that I wanted to make your life fucking terminal. Make this loss on record grow into a tumor on your head that’ll never go away. Just so that I can play my part in making sure that you don’t get the 4CW Championship. Hell, make it easy for Viduus to put you down.”

Artemis tipped the trophy over and watched it roll around for a second.

“And I’ll do it because I happen to remember the words you said before Warzone. This is a good part of why I came back just to fight you. Perry might see the ratings and money but I see a way for me to punch you in the mouth for the shit you said about me back at Fright Night.”

“You called me the extra of a horror movie, a little heathen. You tried to tell everyone that I wasn’t anything to worry about because I hadn’t walked in the fire just yet. Too bad that I walked into the fire that you hyped up so bad and walked out with the 4CW Championship--the one thing that you can’t seem to win. I said that you could have fun with the Ignition Championship and you did. But Perry thinks that has led to you getting a shot at the 4CW Championship because you beat who?”

“You beat David Sanchez and finally shut him up. But he was never ready for all that shine. Where is he now? What has he ever done here in 4CW but be a rape allegation waiting to happen?”

“You beat Erik Holland. Holland wasn’t ready for you because he wasn’t ready for 4CW. You got a win off the back of a misguided idiot that thinks that his highschool deathmatches got him ready to take you on. Guess what, though? He’s back and he’s ready for round two!”

“Alabama Brooks should have really died when he faked it. His old ass wandered into that ring like he had Alzheimer’s and he was bound to have a stroke if you didn’t drop him on his neck. That wasn’t even the highlight of the night. It was when your wife came up behind you and dropped you where you stood. I think it happened because she just really, really wanted your attention.”


“But that didn’t lead anywhere except to a match that lets you tell everyone that you legally beat your wife,” Artemis wriggled her eyebrows, “that’s some fucked up marriage counseling, I guess.”

“I hope you got it all out of your system, honestly,” Artemis chuckled, “because if you were going to walk into Retrograde with all those pent-up emotions, you are going to lose...again. It’s 2019, Laughlin, either you’re going to win or you’re not ever going to do it. There’s so much pressure on your shoulders from just that fact alone that I came to realize the biggest irony about this match and its consequences.”


She left the phrase in the air.

“Laughlin, I don’t even have to beat you to make you fuck up another shot at the top.”

Artemis slightly licked at the corner of her lip before whipping it clean with her thumb.

“Because the conclusion to the story of Bryan Fuckin’ Laughlin is that you’re weak.

“Weak?” she gave the camera the same incredulous look she expected people to give her when she said the word.

“Here, I’ll elaborate for you, Laughlin. You’re not weak statistically. Not mentally. But just maybe…emotionally weak,” Artemis brought her finger to her temple, tapping on it with a rhythm, “there’s something interwoven into your mind that creates this repeating line of failures. And you’ve been struggling to find the answer, the cure, and you went to false idols to give it to you.”

A scoff escaped the ex-world champion.

“Brother Lynch saved you? Don’t make me fucking puke.”

She paused for a moment, where the residual anger that she had towards Michael Lynch threatened to creep up beyond the surface.

“I remember hearing you say to David Sanchez, if anyone remembers him, that Brother Lynch cleansed you of all your sins and told you that no days forward will be wasted. Is that what you cling to? Is that what makes you strong?”

Artemis laughed...hard. When she managed to break away from the laughter, she pointed an accusatory finger towards the camera.

“Then why the fuck was you so weak when Kaelan got snatched?”

She wiped a tear from her eye.

“Or whatever happened to her.”

Artemis sighed, finally catching her full composure again.

“Nah, we’re all playing around with the truth now. At first, no one knew where Kaelan went but then she shows up on REBELLION and Union Battleground and no one didn’t have any answers. Now it turns out that she was safe and sound this whole time? On the next episode, she showed up next to Viduus and I bet you that she’s his Queen now. The twists keep coming from every direction. I bet you at the end of the season she’s pregnant with Viduus’ baby.”

The giggles weren’t fully out of her system after all.

“That really begs the question. What else does Viduus got that you don’t? He got the belt that you can’t get and he got the girl that you let leave. Girls must really get wet for the face paint. Maybe you should switch back to that look if you want her back.”

“Personally, I think you’re better off without her, but I get how love blinds people.”


The former 4CW Champion paused for a second, where she bit on her thumb. She broke away from the action, glaring back at the camera.

“I saw you asked Lynch for more help and that makes me sick. It started to piece together every question I had about why exactly did I think of you so highly.”

Her eyes narrowed, evident from the amount of rage coming to the surface.

“When are you going to do anything by yourself?”

“If it’s not Kaelan, if it’s not Lynch, what’s going to drive you forward? What’s going to make you stronger when they’re all gone? Nothing. You’re going to just be Bryan Laughlin. That’s good in many circles. You can beat all the Sanchez’s and Holland’s but you’re never going to be 4CW Champion good--that’s Artemis Kaiser good.”


She circled her finger around her face.

“I didn’t let some false messiah fuck with my head to make me better. I didn’t need my significant other to try to push me over the edge. I came into 4CW as I am and I made my way up the ladder with my strength alone. And even when you were high off whatever Brother Lynch’s smoking, I walked out of Warzone with the 4CW Championship while you just...dangled there, unable to stop me. Once again, Bryan Laughlin was just...so...close.”

Artemis snickered, mostly to herself, remembering the image of Laughlin unable to take down the belt. His fingertips grazing it, a poetic image of just how many times he managed to touch what he couldn’t yet claim. No matter what compliments they attached to the matches, they were just well-regarded failures to Bryan Laughlin.

“I guess I get it. When you tried to do this by yourself, you failed. Each time you changed yourself, you did it in an attempt to make yourself ready for primetime but that never worked out either. It’s not a problem of multiple personalities or no self-esteem, it’s a damaged identity. With all the things going on right now with Kaelan, everyone might see a new side of Bryan Laughlin come out to play.”

“When that brand new Laughlin shows up to Adrenaline to try to make an example out of me to show Viduus, I’ll just have to give a reminder to you and everyone else why you depend on others so much. Just because you’re focused on your wife and whatever you want to do to Viduus doesn’t mean that you can just walk past me.”

“Just because you’re just so upset doesn’t mean you’ll get a free win over me.”


Artemis prodded her chest right over her heart.

“I’ll take your mind off Kaelan, off Viduus, and the 4CW Championship for just one show. Make all the nightmares stop for one night. Because I’m going to put your brain to sleep.”

“And when it’s all said and done, you’ll be better for it.”


The Last Empress smiled at the camera, truly believing that her intention could help the man.

“You’ll be well-rested. You’ll be ready to move on.”

Yet, it all vanished for a vile grin to end the video off.

“And hell, I might make you forget Kaelan ever fucking existed.”

3
Winter Wasteland V / Nothing To Fear
« on: December 23, 2018, 10:53:54 PM »

⭗⭗⭗

Bloodshed, screams, and the frenetic energy of people running for their lives.

A haunted house was a place that was made for masochists, many people believed. You went there to experience the raw feeling of fear. People in all sorts of ghoulish apparel dart out of nooks and crannies to try to make people defecate themselves. It must be an intriguing job, to say the least. The patrons always left with a sense of satisfaction, even if it was found under the layers of despair that the location caused them.

There was a pair of girls running out as if they had just escaped a slasher film. One of them was composed while her friend nuzzled into her shoulder with tears and mucus running out of their respective orifices. They moved past a young girl, talking to one another about how terrifying the house was. The small girl had waited her turn, growing ever impatient. If the haunted house was so scary, then why waste time in there? With the two girls making their exit, it meant that it was her time to go through. The young girl in question was none other than Artemis von Licht. In this instance, she was fifteen at the time and boredom prevailed over her facial features.

The attendant working at the gate looked at the two girls leaving, his eyes darted down to their asses. He was content on staring at them until Artemisia prodded his arm. He looked down, taken back by the sudden contact. It was worse than he had to look further down to spot the diminutive teenager. “Brett”, as his nametag said, was annoyed to have to break from his perversion to tend to his job but that soon vanished when he got a good look at the young Artemis. She handed him her ticket, forcing it into his hand.

“Is there anyone with you?” Brett asked, looking past her. Maybe the boys in the back of the line were her older brothers?

“No, just me,” Artemisia replied, starting to walk past him. Haunted houses were something that her older brothers enjoyed. She heard stories about how some people couldn’t bear them. Some had actual phobias of the environment. Thus, Artemisia decided to head out to one, just to see if it was worth the money. Waiting in line brought some of the hype to her. She saw grown men that were twice her size dart out of the place like it was Hell itself. One man did confirm the rumors about people urinating themselves, getting some snickers from those who were waiting.

As she walked through the door that opened on its own, where an eerie creaking echoed, she looked passively at some of the fixtures hanging. The production value of the set was detailed and well-made. Bloody skulls hung from a thin wire, representing the killer of the house’s fascination with preserving corpses, something inspired by Ed Gein. The first hallway was long and dark with a few doors deeper towards the next entrance. As Artemis walked down the hallway, the feed flickered, revealing the current day champion making her way down the corridor. Just as soon as she appeared, her adolescent self reappeared.

“I’ve never really been scared of anything.”

The first jump scare came forward. A woman with streaks of blood coming down her eyes, closer to Regan from the Exorcist. She howled at Artemis, who merely gave her a...confused glance. Artemis continued her path down the haunted house into a room where there were strobe lights dancing off her. As she stood there, about to wander in, static took the screen hold again. Once again, the 4CW Champion appeared, hearing the screams of agony out of people throughout Viduus’ career. Artemis listened to them all with a neutral expression before letting a sliver of enjoyment take hold. She braced her 4CW Championship on her shoulder and continued into the room.

“Horror movies only get slight giggles out of me. I can jump off cliffsides into the water without flinching. People can try to jump at me and I won’t budge. Maybe my lack of fear is a genetic defect. Perhaps some part of my brain never grew in properly while I was in my mother’s womb. It’s unfortunate that I don’t get that feeling because fear is necessary in our world. The lion fears the cobra because they know what the venom can do to them. The cobra fears the hawk because of the talons that can rip them with ease. Humans fear other humans because they know the weapons we carry and the malice we all have in our heart.”

“At points, I wanted to be scared because I wanted to know what it could do to me. Would it make me stronger? Some people get absolutely vicious when they’re faced with something that they fear. There may have been a time where I tried to fool myself that I was scared of this first title defense. When I lost to Elijah Carlson, there was a part of me telling me that just maybe I wasn’t ready. That sounded like something I was scared of. Over time, though, I realized that it was just my conscience giving me something to motivate me, something to drive me to be the best damn wrestler I can be.”


For young Artemisia, monsters of all varieties came after her. She played her role of having to run from men with chainsaws and machetes and kept moving at a hurried pace to let the actors chase her. However, she couldn’t help but show her general apathy. She was disappointed in the spectacle. The actors were working hard but maybe she couldn’t be scared. She didn’t bother diluting herself with the fact that the house wasn’t real. As she made it to the end, the exit led to the backyard, a corn maze. Artemisia heard the screams from where she stood, making her eyes widen. There was something out there and it was getting people good.

“So, in the end, I came to realize that I lack the notion of fear. After that, I was forced to replace it with just an understanding of how fear works. Through years of psychology studies, I have dissected the concept until I had an obsessive knowledge about it. That research made me come to a conclusion.”

Yet, upon her first step, the static returned. Along with it, the image of Viduus Morta appeared, jumping out at Artemis and the viewers. The 4CW Champion didn’t relent, merely walking past him. When she made her move into the outside air, the roars of the audience began to flood the microphone. Instead of a corn maze greeting her, the 4CW Champion stood in front of the hellacious structure that was the Warzone of Horrors--something she referred to as Hell. She looked at the cell and the people in it with a vacant stare, not unlike the one that her younger counterpart had in that haunted house.

“I hate when people are scared of me. It makes them what to survive. It makes them cling to life so much that I find it disrespectful. However, there are many who do not fear me but that’s because they fear other things far more. While I was on this path to this match, I haven’t spoken to you, my challenger. We haven’t even met before. But does that mean I don’t know who you are?”

During the Warzone, Viduus Morta and Artemis Kaiser did not interact once. Out of every combination that could have happened, Artemis and Viduus never found themselves in the same place at the same time. The two never looked at one another. Neither of them did any damage to the other. At the end of the night, Artemis Kaiser did not even have to touch Viduus Morta to win the 4CW Championship. Yet, the only sight that could have burned into the former champion’s mind was of Artemis standing on top of his world with the championship he so arrogantly vowed to defend. He hung onto the side of the cage for a moment, forced to feel the brunt of defeat.

“You might find it curious that I haven’t referred to you by your name. That’s because I’m not speaking to Viduus anymore. I’m not talking to the man following the orders of a false God. There is no Speaker to make up bullshit here. There are no spirits, there are no voices, there are only you and I walking into WInter Wasteland. You can put on your facepaint if it makes you feel more comfortable but it’s not going to protect you from what I see and what I know about you.”

“Because what you fear the most isn’t me. It isn’t leaving Winter Wasteland without the 4CW Championship. It isn’t even failing your God.”


As the cage door closed before the match bell rang, the sound of a wooden door came out instead. Once again, the camera flickered back to the adolescent Artemisia walking through the corn maze. She was lost, unsure of which turn she took earlier. People darted out of the foliage, trying their best to scare Artemisia. She had to fight every inclination not to punch them as she would with any other thing that attempted to scare her. Her eyes saw the actors as enemies to be put down for only a second. She examined weak points in their costumes, somewhere she could target and attack if they got too close. Of course, she knew that she had to resist her urges. One actor saw a glimmer of a belligerent grin come across Artemisia’s face before she continued on.

“Your greatest fear is being alone.”

Artemisia came across a young man alone in the maze, unable to find his way out. He looked around nervously with tears welling in his eyes. The anxiety of the environment and the fact that the party he came with were far away had done its toll on his psyche. He didn’t want to interrupt the performance but he needed to at this point. Artemisia walked by him, tapping him on the shoulder one time before continuing on her way. The boy nearly jumped out of his skin but he couldn’t find the strength to yell at Artemisia for her teasing.

“There’s a reason that you’ve always had your Speaker standing by your side. It’s not to say the words you think because you speak quite a lot to have a manager do it for you. I guess he has settled in his role as your futile hype man. However, he won’t be in the ring with you. He may be on the sidelines looking in but he has no bearing on the result of this match. The Speaker may move a leg to get a rope break as he tried against American Tommy but he can’t save you if I knocked you out.”

“Salvation is gone, as you said, but you originally called them in when the world was snaring around you. You can believe in yourself that you’re better without them. That’s fine but you needed them to get to where you are now. Thank your brothers-in-arms for this opportunity but they can’t save you either.”

“Even the God that you believe won’t be there for you. It’ll be the first time that He has failed you and not the only way around. It may lead to a doubt in faith. Where was your God when Artemis Kaiser emasculated you? I can tell you that answer. He was there in the crowd, watching you fail and loving every second of it.”

“You’re trapped in the ring with me even if there’s no cage. The only weapons you have are the skills that won you the 4CW Championship to start and the lies you and your Speaker told yourselves to prepare you for me. You dared to call me second rate, a nobody, a false champion, just to name a few. But at Winter Wasteland, you’re going to have to face those lies head on and the consequences that come with believing in those words.”

“And nobody in the world will be able to take on the pain for you.”


The boy tried to follow Artemisia but she darted around corners and hid in the thick of the corn maze. She constantly jumped out to scare him, subtly assisting the actors who scared him even more. However, the boy was trying to watch for Artemisia, to see where the little demon went. The actors were only doing their job but the girl’s intention was far more malicious. Her movements reminded him of how wolves hunt. They scare and chase, tiring out their victim until they can go in for the kill. The boy still didn’t know how close or far he was from the exit but he prayed that the exit was within a few steps. He needed it to be.

“I’m speaking of the pain from my fists breaking your bones, your spirit, and your heart. You’ll have to face that by yourself. And that loneliness will eat away at you, I promise you that. It will hurt you worse than the feeling of that light shoulder without my championship resting on it. When you wash the facepaint off along with the blood, you’re the only one in the world that’ll have to accept the fact that you’re just not good enough to beat Artemis Kaiser.”

As the boy made it to a clearing, he saw that there wasn’t an exit in sight. He couldn’t help but sigh at the discovery if only to relieve himself of the stress and exasperation. As he turned his head back around, the image faded back into Viduus Morta, trying to woo Phoenix Quagliaterre with his actions. She was his queen but she had no intentions for adhering to his wishes. Alone, even in those pursuits, Viduus remained, forgetting about what was in sight for him.

“Sadly, you could have defeated your fear before walking into this match. Yet, you spent time trying to impress someone who didn’t want you. You spent time distracted with everything else, even when Tommy beat you. Now you’re even more of a false contender. For that transgression alone, I’m going to have to make this match a nightmare for you. I was content with beating you and letting you get back to your attempts to woo Phe. It’d be funny to see how quickly you turn from a fearsome competitor to just another lovestruck, dramatic idiot like Riley Savell.”

“It wouldn’t even matter if you got your queen in the end. Phe can’t take the pain away either.”


The boy heard a chainsaw starting up, something he knew was at the end of the maze. He heard his friends screaming at the noise. Looking around, the boy continued to search for where Artemisia was. The fearsome thought of the pint-sized girl coming out with the chainsaw played out for a moment. He shook the memory away for the sake of his fading mental state. He had to find the bravery to continue on. His friends were waiting on him, probably annoyed that he got lost along the way. Right then, he saw the exit. He saw his friends waving him in their direction. The boy took off after them, knowing that the man with the chainsaw was after him.

“With your actions leading up to this moment, you’ve ruined that chance for yourself. It was already a bygone conclusion that I was going to walk out with the championship but you made it worse. The fact that you've ignored me for what you decided to chase? The fact that you failed to prepare yourself for everything that I am.”

The boy didn’t see Artemis coming out of the bushes one last time to get the jump on him. His friends told him to watch out and the boy turned his head to see what he had feared the most. Though she was small, Artemisia presented a foreboding essence to herself, especially with a chainsaw in her hand and a delightful look on her face. The boy fell to the ground, his eyes widening and his heart racing, just about to burst.

“I’ve watched you take the mask off and prove yourself more human than the rest of us. All the smoke and mirrors that you presented began to fade away when you let that fear of loneliness take control of you. You were able to keep it away from so long but I knew that it would get you eventually. It’s because you’re a coward and won’t fix what hinders you. You don’t realize that the most prominent fact that would set you free.”

When the boy looked over in his hysteria, he didn’t see his friends anymore. Maybe his mind played a final trick on him. He looked towards Artemisia, hoping that she was just an illusion. Unfortunately, she was very real, looming over him with the revving chainsaw, laughing at him. She didn’t see nor care that his heart was beginning to give out on him.

“You were born alone and you will die alone, especially at Winter Wasteland.”

The young girl transfigured into the 4CW Champion once more but she was still laughing the same. She held her 4CW Championship close to herself, almost falling from the intense, sadistic laughter coming from herself. Once again, she vanished, leaving the little Artemisia who rose the chainsaw high in the air.

“So now when the bell rings, you shouldn’t cry. You shouldn’t scream. You shouldn’t try to run. You should just let me do what I need to do.”

All the laughter stopped and it seemed that there was nothing else in the world around them both.

The boy was truly alone now.

“Because there’s no point in fearing the inevitable.”

And then the chainsaw came down.

4
Winter Wasteland V / Like a Prayer
« on: December 20, 2018, 01:42:50 AM »

Adrenaline 95 was another shit show like Artemis deemed the show before it. It wasn’t for the same reason, however. It was something personal. Something special of Artemis’ went up in flames. She couldn’t do anything about, except hobble around on a hurt knee that thankfully didn’t shatter. Over two hundred pounds of weight crashed down there and it led to her infamous win streak coming to an abrupt end. Of course, it was by the hand of Elijah Carlson, and that frustrated Artemis.

Nevertheless, it was the go-home show. Momentum played a huge part in wrestling, especially the pay-per-views that capped off everything. Winter Wasteland loomed in the distance, a place where many champions went to die. Bronx and Dakota managed to walk out with their reigns intact but others were not that lucky. Artemis didn’t wish to be one of the many to fall at the PPV nor did she want to lose her championship on her first defense. Yet, underneath both of those ultimatums was a simple fact that she was itching to hurt someone.

Artemis Kaiser does not lose.

It was a contrarian statement because everyone has to lose. It’s just that when Artemis loses, it triggers something inside of her mind. When she came down from the initial anger of falling to Elijah, her eyes refocused on the first immediate thing standing in her way. With a pale face and a morbid existence, Viduus Morta looked to be the prime target for every part of Artemis’ internal malice. As the camera opened up, the lingering glare that Artemis kept threatened to pierce through the lens.

She clutched the 4CW Championship in her hand, balled up against the armrest of her leather chair. Chains loosely laid across her figure, along with the damaged armor of a warrior king. She still heard her prize and she did so with authority. A single loss would not force her to drop what she strived her entire career for.

“It’s not often that a loss does some good for you in professional wrestling. Everyone’s quick to say that you’ve lost what made you lethal to start with. That one little mark on your record haunts you for the rest of your career until you can rectify it or drown it out with enough success.”

“I don’t like to lose but there’s nothing I can do about my loss to Elijah Carlson now. However, the match made me realize just how troubled I am by the presence of an unworthy challenger in my path. At one point, I thought that on the last show of the year, I would be facing Bryan Laughlin. He put his whole career on the line in his last ditch effort to try to get a shot at me. I was ready for that. I accepted his terms and I waited for the match to get booked, but alas, nothing.”

“With Anastasia going whatever the hell she went and the complete lack of vision towards anyone else on my roster, I end up having to prepare for someone that many could see as just a fill-in. It doesn’t matter how good my challenger is, they’re going to be seen as an underdog, an afterthought, and that’s how it has been up until this moment.”

“So luckily, I’m glad to walk into this match without the win streak looming over my head. It means that I can think about everything else but that. Therefore, I walk into Winter Wasteland more prepared than ever before. I’m not going to let the year-end with me losing my championship. I’m not going to be like Ana. So, it’s quite ironic that I have to face the very man that took everything away from her.”


Traces of a vile grin crept on the champion’s face. She waved at the camera faintly with her free hand, never the hand that gripped the grand prize.

“Hello, Viduus, it’s nice to finally meet you.”

She spoke with a sardonic tone.

“A long time ago before I had my chance to win the Warzone of Horrors, 4CW was waiting to see what you could do with their top championship. You beat Anastasia Hayden, ruining her time in the sun. You played a spoiler, destroying the dream of what could have been and establishing yourself as the new face of the company. Beyond that, you left a permanent mark on her record, one that would slowly start to forge the rift between her and her place here in 4CW. When you do something like that, it’s emblematic towards what your reign was going to be. That shows a certain amount of dominance and control.”

“That was something you savored, especially when you brought Salvation in to give everyone headaches. It’s unfortunate that it didn’t live up to the hype. Nemesis got beat by American Tommy after talking so much esoteric crap. Your group’s name has been dragged through the mud and left bleeding on the side of the road like a deer after a car crash.”

“Then you lost the 4CW Championship. Albeit, it was in the Warzone of Horrors, but you believed so much that you were walking out that match the champion. That’s why you put the championship on the line. You thought that your God finally blessed you to be his champion when really, you’re just another ill-fated disciple.”


Artemis squinted her eyes while her mouth contorted into a sneer.

“You lost on your first defense and you’ve been trying to get back to your former glory.”

She relaxed back in her seat, no longer enthralled with disgust towards her contender’s past.

“So how does it feel to stand there having to challenge me for the gold that you swore to hang onto?”

“My very existence is a mockery of your quest for total control. I was the young girl that you said didn’t belong. You said that 4CW was your house but you failed to defend it. I came into Warzone while you were busy letting your hubris control you. I did to you exactly what you did to Ana. I made a joke of your title reign and now you’re striving to take back what wasn’t even yours, to begin with.”


Artemis took a beat, taking a moment to ponder on what she was about to dive into next.

“Viduus, I need to ask you about your God. You’re so preoccupied with that pomp and circumstance that you failed to tell us what they are all about. What does your God want? What is it that you do for him? It looks like all he has done is give you a bootleg manager and a bag of flour to wipe all over your face.”

“Truthfully, I’m not a person who believes in a God. I think they’re limiting. You have to follow their teachings and you can’t make your own decisions. Even the times that you think you have free will, it’s just the act of fooling yourself into thinking you do. You can never motivate yourself to be better. You have to wait for your God to make you better. That doesn’t make you any closer to a higher power. It makes you a slave to a puppeteer that gets off on watching you dance. When you decide that enough is enough, you remember that latent fear inside of the back of your mind. If you step out of line, your God will punish and abandon you like a drunken father on a Saturday night and never come back.”

“But that’s what faith is, right? You believe that your God will steer you right. Even if you’re struggling and suffering, it’s all for the sake of your God’s future for you. So if you’re so devoted to your God, Viduus, what will you do when they tell you to go play in oncoming traffic? You’re going to go out there like a good Son and get on your knees. While that sixteen wheeler comes to put an end to your life, you’ll thank your God and walk towards the headlights.”

“Your dependency on your God is the sign of a weak man, not someone that deserves to stand in front of me at Winter Wasteland. What makes me so sick is that it didn’t have to be you. I had someone like Bryan Laughlin putting his career and everything on the line to face me for my championship. American Tommy could have abandoned the Octane Championship and come for me. Eli Carlson and Josh Kennedy have wins over me and could have easily made an argument to be where you are at. And it’s not like you did anything that helped your case for being my first challenger.”

“I don’t see a man waging war against the company. I don’t see someone who could have held a death grip on this championship and put down everyone who thought they could take it from him. I see someone who plays tricks on the stupid. You say that you have a claim to the throne you never lost but every word you have presented is just as faulty as your God’s existence. No one decided to do anything about your place as my first contender. It wasn’t out of fear of you; it was out of apathy. You struck at the perfect time to ensure your route to me when there was no one else able to be in front of you in line.”


Artemis took a look at her championship, knowing its lineage and what people did to get to it.

“All you had to do was mind rape Boston and get him to do what you want. That’s how easy it is to get a world championship shot here in 4CW, apparently. Not through hard work, not through war, but just by getting a man to do something he probably would have done anyways. That kind of bullshit manipulation isn’t what makes a 4CW World Champion. That’s not what makes just a champion in 4CW. That’s not what even makes you a contender. You show no signs to me that you deserve to be here and that you’re going to survive in this wasteland. You’re not the unfathomable force that you claim to be. You’re not the God’s hand, coming down to destroy everything in his name. I’m not even sure if you’re Viduus Morta.”

She narrowed her eyes in minor confusion but it passed quickly.

“You’re just another man, intoxicated on his religion, and I fucking see you.”

Artemis tapped a solitary finger on her eyelid before pointing at the camera.

“Through all of this talk of Salvation and you probably don’t even know what your God really is. I’ve always said that there was no Salvation in my Kingdom and there isn’t. Yet, I’m starting to believe that it was never here at all. Because as I look through those red eyes, I’m starting to see the fact that you fooled yourself into forgetting.”

She let a beat fall.

“Your God doesn’t exist.”

“I know that you would see that as something blasphemous you’ve heard too many times before but I’m going to challenge it further. I’m going to ask you some questions that you might need to answer before walking into our match.”

“Where was your God when you lost to Tommy? Did he speak to you while you were on the ground, holding your balls like an idiot? Or did he just wait for you to regain feeling down there?”


The champion chuckled darkly at her barb.

“Did he speak to you when you had to watch Carmella Wilder of all people walk away with your Extreme Champion? Did he pad your ego when Salvation couldn’t get it done in Bad Company or did he tell you to blame Nemesis? You know that Nemesis wasn’t keeping up with you. Did God speak to you through all those dolls you painstakingly left for all of us? I wonder a lot about those times when you speak to him when you’re not on your knees, waiting for him to give it up for you.”

“I assume that God doesn’t speak to those who fail him. When you proclaimed to the world that you were going to defend your championship in the Warzone of Horrors, you must have thought that your Lord was going to be so proud of you. He was going to pat you on the head like a good dog and tell you just how much he loves you. The radio silence must have been painful when you left with nothing but the broken pieces of your pride.”

“It’s okay, though, you got up, dusted yourself off, and asked your God for forgiveness for embarrassing him like that. It didn’t matter as long as you had your shot still at Winter Wasteland. Salvation could survive if you won there, right? You can make up for your Holy Sugar Daddy if you were to find a way to win here.”

“But that’s where we go back to there being no Salvation in my Kingdom. Because there’s no need for religion when there’s only one God that you need to listen to,” the 4CW Championship flashed in the frame, “the god known as gold, championship gold. And you need more than ever before because it’s what you can sacrifice to get back in your God’s good graces. But it’s my responsibility and privilege as champion to deny that for you. Because there’s no way a fool blinded by sacrilege will take what is mine.”


Her words came out in a snarl, a hint of the anger lurking behind the surface of the confident champion.

“I’m the dosage of reality that you need, Viduus. Behind everything that you have dreamt up yourself to be, you’re just flesh and bone. You’re weak and you need something stronger than you to push you forward. I never needed such a thing to propel me to be the greatest competitor I could be. I never needed a Speaker, fellow disciples, or a higher power to bring me to the 4CW Championship.”

“At Winter Wasteland, nothing is going to change. I’m not going to need a God to help me walk out with this championship and you’ll pray to your God to put you back together. And who knows? He just might answer.”


Artemis shrugged, having regained her composure entirely.

“I want you to ponder on this. For this, though, I need the man that Viduus refuses to be to listen clearly.”

Artemis’ intense stare lingered on the camera, where she pointed directly at who she was referring to. There was no name for the man who walked as Viduus. For all intents and purposes that was who he was. Artemis didn’t care for that. She looked past it all with her gaze and she hoped that he listened well.

“That’s the mask you wear, the face of Viduus Morta. It allows you to be stronger than anything you could have been. However, a mask is only a mask. It hides your face but it does not hide your personality, your intentions, and your weakness. So what made you find enough strength to become 4CW Champion? What has inspired you to come this far, if only to die?”

The champion titled her head, intrigued by the prospects in which she spoke of. She brought her championship from her vice-grip and onto her shoulder. Her nameplate gleamed in the light, something purposeful to instill a message. She was still the champion, regardless of her recent stumble.

“Maybe it’s just that the voice of God is your conscience trying to convince to be better, to be stronger?”

Artemis scoffed.

“And what if you’re just not strong enough at Winter Wasteland?”

“Does it prove that your God has abandoned you? Does it mean that they were never real?”


Artemis gave a look to her championship, patting it softly once before giving her full attention back to the camera.

“Or does it just mean that I’m just that much stronger than the highest power?”

5
Adrenaline / Man of the House
« on: December 09, 2018, 09:50:26 PM »

⭗⭗⭗

When it came to the concept of respect between Elijah Carlson and Artemis Kaiser, it wasn’t without its faults. They were two driven people heading into a clash that could uproot Fright Night as the unchallenged match of the year. They didn’t have to waste time telling one another how good the other was, but of course, words had to be thrown around. It was what happened when two huge egos clashed in the main event. Yet, Artemis Kaiser, sat in her chair, having slid down to the seat. She appeared to contemplate something, making her look like annoyed if anything.

It might have been because of the recent Twitter action. CuriousCat had taken over and it was a plague to the 4CW Champion. That, or it might have been because of what Elijah Carlson said. The champion scooted back up into her chair fully, draping her coveted championship over her shoulder.

“Elijah, I knew you were going to say that.”

She said so with a song on her voice.

“I’m not saying that retroactively since we’ve been throwing words back and forth but because it’s all anyone seems to do. Everyone in Fright Night said that I was just on a hot streak off the backs of some lackluster talent. And if that’s the best in the company saying that, then it becomes a trend. Yet, the trend slowly starts to grow stale and loses its value when I keep pooling wins against progressively stronger people. Until the day that I’ve beaten the likes of Bronx and Madison, then I haven’t done anything. However, I’m one that likes to believe the game that everyone plays against me is a coward’s game.”

“I don’t run away from my past and I don’t expect anyone in 4CW to do the same. That’s why I can talk about the reign of King Eli the way that I did. Because I expect everyone else to go back and take aim at all my shortcomings before I became the best damn wrestler in 4CW and in the world. Instead, I listen to the same thing over and over again like a broken record, and sometimes, someone might say something new—add a new sentence to the shitstorm of words they’re trying to put out against me.”

“I was never a signed competitor in Empire Pro Wrestling. I was a guest there to have a little bit of fun for two weeks. I beat everyone they put out in front of me and I walked out of there with a perfect record. In the end, it wasn’t my failure to keep a company alive that haunts me as it might do for Elijah Carlson for SAP. He didn’t make it to the top, so it isn’t a part of his resume anymore. It’s like selective hearing,”
Artemis rolled her eyes.

As customary in an Artemis Kaiser video, she faded away as the next scene came up. It was always a reconstruction of some part of her imagination, properly made--if she was a director in Hollywood, she might make some good movies. This time, however, a grayscale filter laid over the video. With cheery music from the bygone era of the 1950s, the camera fixated on a house. A Cadillac DeVille pulled up into the driveway and out of the car came Elijah Carlson, clad in a Perry Ellis three-piece suit. With suitcase in hand, he approached the door, but it opened before he got there.

“Diminishing the things that I’ve done in my whole career is easy because it’s avoiding the truth about me. If you look back over the past few years of my career, then you’ve seen my dominant performances. Of course, you haven’t looked at that, Elijah, it’s hard to do when you’re scared. Not of me, no, I don’t like people being scared of me. The fear you have is finding out the same routine might not work against me. You can look at HKW and see that I left out of boredom and politics. GPW died with me at the top of the mountain. MSW was the same way. Now even in FFW, it’s starting to become a repeat of what I’m doing here in 4CW, the best company in the world.”

Standing in the full frame of the door was Genevie Carlson, with a smile on her face that probably wasn’t possible for her. She waved at her husband as he came up. A kiss on each cheek before they both entered the house. Things went as planned from there on. Elijah took off his hat and coat, handing it to his wife to put away. He sat down in front of his TV, turning it on to see what the news was.

“When you look at the evidence for me being the best damn wrestler on the planet, you have to shift the narrative. Unlike when you were going against pricks and failures like Keith Daniels and Chris Mosh, you’re going against me. The arena’s already packed, so you don’t have to sell people in the building. The matchup alone does that job for us. So it gave you room to do what you do best.”

“Lie.”


On the news, reports about communism and satanic cults bent on false salvation made Elijah’s face contort with disgust. Genevie told him that he should change the channel. Nodding in agreement, he did just that, hoping to find something decent to watch, rather than all the scares the media were trying to throw out.

“What I mean is that you’re an expert at making your stories work. Kimitsu was another victim because she let herself slip and you don’t let that go. A minor slip of the tongue, you attach yourself to and milk it for all it got. Let’s turn that back on you for a second, Eli. Amidst your tirade, you failed to mention something. You said that I’m a worthless champion that hasn’t beaten anyone if I’m able to summarize it all.”

“Warzone was just me surviving, even though the best wrestlers that the company got are in that match. Winning the Ignition Championship was just luck. In 4CW, I did everything you did but faster, but you’ve accomplished more than I have. 15 championships to your five. But the whole part about me not beating anyone made me laugh because you slipped up there.”

“If I’ve beaten only unimportant people, does that mean that your wife is a nobody now?”


After standing there for a moment, Geneive decided to go and wash the dishes--like a good wife does.

“I guess that didn’t fit your narrative.”

“See how that works? You say I’m worthless and you agree with what many people say about your wife—that she’s trash if we’re getting specific.”

“The whole issue with diminishing my value until I’m nothing in the light of the great Elijah Carlson is what happens when you lose to me. If I’m worthless, what will that make you? You don’t have to think about it too hard. Saying and acting the way that you do set you up for career suicide and the worst embarrassment of your life since you’ve returned here to 4CW. Losing to me after saying all you did? It makes your opinion mean less than anything that someone like Vossler could come up with. The worst part is that you’ve done it all by yourself, not with my help or with Genie’s.”

“You can even give Laughlin back his material. You’re both just two people trying to make their consolation prizes look better than the 1st place trophy. It’s not going to work because you’ll end up looking like Andre Holmes, content with what you have. Both of you will never be able to think of the 4CW Championship without having war flashbacks about the ass beating I gave you for trying. You two should have been fighting which secondary belt looked better than the other. You both could have saved yourselves the time.”

“It’s better than running around thinking with that backward ass logic that 2nd place is better than 1st.”


The sound of the door opening and closing occurred in the background, causing Elijah to look over for a moment. Though he quickly looked away, the camera never drew close to whatever newcomer had arrived. Instead, the camera remained on Elijah, who took out a cloth in order to pat his sweating forehead. Once the person was away, Elijah stood up and decided to head deeper into the house.

“That’s why I was ready to accept Bryan Laughlin’s challenge if any of us had a say in it. It’s because of what he showed me by putting up his career for that last shot at unobtainable glory. It means he’s so disgusted with the prospect of being garbage that he’ll just off himself and his whole damn career. When you and everyone else say that I’ve been beating unmentionables, you didn’t see it from my point of view. Did I ever want to face people like David Sanchez or Alicia Lukas?” the champion scoffed, “of course fucking not. I’m the best 4CW got going for themselves. I knew that since walking into the company.”

“So why did I fight them?”

“It wasn’t just because management put them in front of me to knock over but it was because I was doing what a champion should also do since we’re throwing around definitions.”


Elijah made his way through a hallway until he reached a closed door. He held onto the knob with some tension in his body but he resolved to open it. Once he did, the camera panned around him to show what was in it. It was a nursery, outfitted with everything a family needed to take care of a baby. However, there was no baby, and Elijah knew it. With a solemn expression, he closed the door before walking back towards the living room.

“I’ve been ridding 4CW of the waste. Ask yourself this, Elijah. After I beat them, where did Johnny Storm and James Shark go? Johnny died somewhere and James remembered that he didn’t have what it took anymore. Mark Storm thought he had what it took because of one mistake on my part, and I sent him back to the indies where he belongs. DeMarcus Gresham had to rethink his whole life before coming back, which I bet Andre Holmes is doing right now. That’s what I’m doing as 4CW Champion. So I’m giving you the same treatment since you’re going to be worse than worthless after I beat you."

“Once I get rid of you, you got the chance to finally go home for good. You can drop that North American Championship on the way out too. It doesn’t need you and it has never needed you. You might have taken it from Kimitsu but you’re just trying to take the legacy she established and call it your own. You snatched one of my lines, trying to put your remix on it—I know it was good but c’mon. You’re trying to take my spotlight because you can’t get back up here and everyone knows you wouldn’t survive anyways.”

“You’ll just get beat and wind up on the shelf all over again.”

“So really, Eli, to me, you’re just another thief trying to be the man of the hour.”

“But that’s the problem here. You were never the man, to begin with. Even after you beat Jair, he was still the man of the year. Even when you had the 4CW Championship on your weak ass shoulder, Bronx was the man on his way to take his spot you were keeping warm for him. How funny was it that you were telling him the same thing about ‘stiff competition’ before he got his chance to put you down. I remember you telling him about what sacrificing meant and what the match ultimately meant for him. If he lost to you, then everything he worked for since his injury meant nothing.”

“The shoe is on the other foot now, huh?”


As Elijah walked towards his chair, the background revealed there was a person inside the kitchen. They were reading a newspaper, obscuring their face. Elijah seemed to ignore them as he sat down to continue to watch some of his favorite TV shows. Whatever was happening with the Laughlins was interesting, to say the least. The episode, in particular, showed the wackiness of Kaelin smashing Bryan in the head with his championship belt. Oh, that Kaelin, always a wildcard! The laugh track and the sound effects played it up for her, despite her serious expression.

“Beating me would validate your return beyond winning that championship you got. So what will it mean if you don’t have enough to sacrifice to beat me? No matter what you draw into to try to put a stop to my streak, you won’t have enough. That’s a reality you’re going to deal with, Elijah. In the grand scheme of another doomed kingdom, Elijah Carlson was not a king, the man, or the best wrestler in the company.”

“Elijah, you were and still are just a man.”

“A man of flesh, bone, and an unhealthy ego that’s going to get him hurt, just like so many others in 4CW. A mere man won’t be able to beat me, no matter how long he has been on his journey to where he is—underneath mine. In the world of 4CW, you may be better than Laughlin, Holmes, and a few more of the mainstays, but you’re still just number two. You’re a part of my supporting cast and I have to show you that. I have to show Viduus who is waiting for his turn for the same kind of ass beating what he’s in for. But if somewhere in your heart, you find the courage to come back to 4CW after Adrenaline, I’ll be another name you can add to the list of all-time greats that beat you and that you can use promote just how good you are. That is if you don’t retire or leave after I beat you. It’s apparently the trend when people face me.”


Elijah checked his watch, knowing that it was time for dinner. He would have to miss the next episode of Dakota Smith’s Adventures. He heard that it was going to be quite the controversial episode with Jair being on the show. But when he came back to relax before bed, he could watch whatever was going on with that Boston character. So goofy and polarizing but it made for decent conversation at work.

“For once in your career, you’ll have to exist with the fact that you’re the brick in the wall, the stepping stone, and just another win on my record. For you, this match is possibly the most important one in your entire career, more than the 4CW Championship match against Jair. And you’re going to lose, and when you do, I’m giving you an early Christmas present, one that I think you’ll appreciate.”

“I’m giving the best chance to walk away from this whole wrestling thing after I beat you. It’s okay to walk away after losing to the very best. You get the chance to go home and be the family man that Genie wants you to be. You can get her pregnant and spare 4CW nine months of hearing from her. You survived No Nut November, so you know what time it is. And if you’re feeling vengeful, you can send Sarah in after me too and I can beat her. You can even wait until the baby grows up and come into wrestling thinking they’re a super rookie like Riley Savell. I’ll still come back twenty years later, out of retirement, and beat them too. We can call it a generational ass beating and I’ll be another person to have smacked up the whole Carlson Dynasty by themselves.”

“You know what? I’m going to treat you like I used to treat Owen Gonsalves before his bitch ass vanished.”


The person with the newspaper flipped the page as Elijah drew close. Genie and Eli seemed a little hesitant to approach the dinner table but they had to if they were meant to enjoy time as a family. Hopefully, the tension in the room would die down when Sarah got home.

“After I get done beating you for all the shit you said, I’m going to need you to go home and explain to Genie and the rest of your family why you call me ‘Daddy’ now. It’s going to be because you decided to try to intrude on my throne room and insult everything that I’ve done to get here. You could have taken a loss and came back better. Now I have to embarrass you. It’s the only way that someone like you can learn to stop making up lies and stay in your damn lane. Your whole legacy will end on the fact that you’ll just be Artemis Kaiser’s bitch and that’s an honor in itself.”

“So you feel special that you’re going to get that chance.”


As Elijah sat down on the other end of the head seat, the person holding the newspaper lowered it down, revealing the 4CW Champion. Artemis looked around the table for a moment, taking the cigar out of her mouth as she did. She folded up the newspaper, saying something crass in the same vein as Archie Bunker. With an arched eyebrow, she shot Elijah a glare, indicative of what their situation was.

“But dinner better be on the table when I get home.”

6
Adrenaline / King of Nothing
« on: December 06, 2018, 01:17:47 AM »


⭗⭗⭗

“Adrenaline 94 was a shit show.”

With strings attached, dangling in front of the camera, dolls of Boston, Viduus, the Speaker, and Nemesis pranced around on a stage. They were in a ring, leading to the announcement of Viduus Morta being the new number one contender to the 4CW Championship. The pomp and circumstance led to a universal backlash from the audience, roster, and outside watchers alike. Even the champion spared a few words in the short time that she appeared on air.

“Amidst the numerous problems on the show, Salvation saturated the show and everyone found out how easy it was to get a 4CW Championship match. It didn’t take winning South Beach Brawl Cup or the Warzone of Horrors. You don’t have to try to beat everyone on the roster. Putting your career on the line and getting the support of your peers don’t do the trick. You don’t even have to beat the champion to get a shot. Instead of coming back and racking up a few wins, Viduus decided it was best to mind rape Boston and secure his shot at WInter Wasteland. I wonder if they could hear the groans of everyone in the whole arena, backstage, and at home when that news came out.”

“Meanwhile, I continued on with my business. Why?”


Artemis let out a scoff, clearly uncaring.

“I've always said that there’s no Salvation in my kingdom.”

With a dash of her hand, the champion did away with the image of Salvation. As the ring fell to pieces, a figurine of Artemis Kaiser appeared, clad in striking black metal armor, shaped into a bloodthirsty hound. She was the ruler of 4CW at the moment, wearing her championship and equipment meant for a warrior king.

“When I came to 4CW, I wanted to face the names that everyone knows. Everyone that I can think that would have been a worthy contender is not available. Anastasia and Bronx are on vacation, doing whatever they feel like. Jair and Dakota are going to try to kill each other over the Pride Championship of all things. Tommy and Laughlin got championship obligations that management keeps exploiting. I beat Andre. So, really, Salvation might have been the only answer that anyone could come up with and that disappoints me. As 4CW Champion, I only want to fight the best that the company has to offer. Every time that I’m in that main event, I want to walk out knowing that I just won a war.”

The stage began to shape into what its true purpose was. It was time to tell a story. The setting was a kingdom, one built up through hard work and dedication to the ruler’s life work.

“And thank the Gods that 4CW has Elijah Carlson to try to give me the war that I’ve been looking for. Eli Carlson’s going to be a wonderful North American Champion. That’s just the kind of person he is. He puts everything he has into every match and does his very, very best,” Artemis said, in a somewhat childish voice, openly mocking Eli.

“But Eli, it’s going to suck to be you come Adrenaline. You see, last time I showed up, I put Andre in his place. Now it’s time for you to follow in line and know what’s the new regime of 4CW is going to be with me as the champion. When 4CW puts a champion in front of me, I bet they’re thinking that it’ll be a repeat of what Viduus did with Anastasia. A lower champion beats the top champion, gets a shot, wins, and usher in some change. I’m not Ana, though. I’m not going to blueball 4CW with all my hype. I’m going to keep making good on it and I’m going to make sure that you remember that you should play it safe with your North American Championship and stay in your lane.”

Artemis spoke with a totalitarian inflection, her eyes glaring at the camera as she started to relax in her seat. As the story began to unravel, the camera fixated on that, leaving Artemis in the shadows as the narrator she usually was in her videos.

“They thought Andre had the skill to be able to make me look like trash, and you’re thinking the same exact thing. With Andre, it came as a bit of surprise but with you, Eli? It’s what I’ve come to expect. It’s a fair assumption to have as an egotistical prick like yourself. Eli Carlson gonna make Arty Kaiser look like amateur night at the Apollo. It’s alright. I think the same way a lot. Until I became 4CW Champion, then whoever held that belt was just another target to put down, an obstacle to overcome, and a person holding my seat warm at the top. That’s the ruthless mentality that a champion needs but with you, Elijah, there’s something a little more rooted in there.”

On the 4CW throne, Elijah Carlson sat. The wide smirk on his face was reflective of his time as the 4CW Champion. Why wouldn’t he be smug? The world was at his heel with his loving wife by his side and a few allies to rally behind him, the reign seemed to be set to be the one to shatter the record books. On Eli’s lap, the 4CW Championship laid loosely as he looked out to the sea of contenders trying their best to get to him. Instead of acknowledging him, he rested his feet on the back of Jair Hopkins, the fallen monarch.

“You called me an outsider. I’ve heard a lot of false claims during my climb to the top but outsider? That was a new one. I’m an intruder to you, a woman who came in 4CW with no rhyme or reason and took everything that 4CW had. I didn’t sneak up there either. Everyone knew that I was coming and it was just a matter of time before I was knocking on the door, asking for Viduus or whoever to hand over that 4CW strap. That’s not an outsider, Eli.”

“That’s a conqueror.”

“4CW’s Eurasia and I’m Genghis Khan. I came in the 4CW kingdom and I stumbled once. After that, who had an answer for me? No one. Champions, former champions, former World Champions, none of them had an answer to the Artemis Kaiser problem here in 4CW. And I can’t even throw you in this equation because King Eli hasn’t been a thing in a year.”

“Not like King Eli was that good, to begin with.”


The whole throne room set ablaze, where Tara Michaels got engulfed by the flames first. She screamed out in pain as her skin dissolved into ash. Eli kept looking forward, not caring for the screams. It was not a king’s responsibility to listen to the mewling of the sheep around him.

“At Ante Up, you made your glorious return and said that you were taking what was rightfully yours. Absorbed in the heat of the moment, you tried to make people see you as different from a year ago. Many people believed you, but I saw the same old bullshit that only worked for a little while.”

“Elijah, you’re the 4CW’s biggest critic.”


In the flames, the burning figures of Kimitsu Zombie and American Tommy appeared. They were wrapped in a dance, twirling around in a circle as the flames grew closer to them. King Eli moved his hands, beckoning the flames that were intruding on his space to go after them. Like a pet, the destructive force followed his orders and went after the two lovebirds.

“What lies behind the surface of the bravado is the person who’s the first to call out something that reeks like bullshit. Many times, you’re true but sometimes it’s blurred by your ego. In that same speech about you showing back up and claiming what’s yours, you ran down the card, saying pretty much everything sucked. How could 4CW make such a crappy card, even though the whole arena was sold out? When you faced Tommy, you told him your definition of a champion and why he doesn’t fit the bill. You told Kimi the same kind of things too. You told both of them that without their smoke, mirrors, and tricks, what did they have? They’re not champions. They’re pretenders.”

They were happy together, even in defeat, resolving to let themselves dance away in a fiery death.

“Kimitsu and Tommy have been doing pretty great for themselves at that point if you ask me.”

As they vanished, the flames turned back on King Eli and Genie. The two recoiled as they noticed the malevolence life born deep within its ceaseless shape. It roared like a fierce animal rather than the natural sound of fire. Soon enough, it decided on its path again and rushed at the King and his consort.

“So what about me, huh?” Artemis took a beat, “I’ve worked from the ground up to where I’m at now, at the top of the biggest mountain in the wrestling world. Nothing has changed about me. I don’t play tricks. I don’t try to throw people off their rhythm with childish games. I’m in your face, I’m at your throat, and I’m always ready to tear it out. I’m not Riley Savell. I haven’t wasted my time on Cosmo’s dick and did my research. Throughout everything I’ve seen of you, the wins, the wildness backstage, and the legacy you started to make, I saw one glaring mistake in your competitive DNA.”

“For someone who believes that the world is yours, you don’t have the back to carry that weight.”


King Eli brought up walls and buildings to fool the flame. The fire stopped at each one, seeing their names. SAP was listed on them but they were fragile. That weakness led to their easy obliteration. However, it gave the King time. It was not to escape. It was just to watch and enjoy his place in heaven.

“When you were the FACE OF SAP, I don’t think I heard much about that company. As a matter of fact, as the face of SAP, the whole place fell apart. We had charisma vacuums like Brendan Samuels and Celeste at the helm but I didn’t see Elijah Carlson with a championship around his waist. When it fell apart, I guess since you were the face of the place that you were to blame for it? Because if you were the best thing that SAP had going for them, why couldn’t you save them?  It’s probably because you treated SAP like a warmup for your comeback but that’s okay. When you fall out of the big leagues, there’s always the D league for you to make yourself feel better and look good.”

“More importantly than shitstain companies like that, when you were 4CW Champion, you ran around with a Burger King crown on your head with your Royal Family in tow. I thought a champion was supposed to be someone who could beat them all. You managed to beat Scott Stevens. I can only say that with a hint of familiarity because I saw the leadup to the match but outside of that? Who the fuck is Scott Stevens? So what did King Eli do best after that? King Eli beat the Fate Champion at the time, sure, but many people got a win over the supposed new regime.”

From out of the fire came a warrior, dashing through the carnage, without any regard for its effects. He didn’t burn. If anything, the fire made him glisten as he came past Eli, striking him down with a blade. He took the 4CW Championship from King Eli, leaving him with nothing but his loving wife. It was only then that his kingdom began to crumble around him, no longer able to stand the flames eating the foundation of his legacy.

“All while you waited as any king does for the person who’s going to take the throne next. Bronx was on his way and you were trying everything you can to stop him? I wonder how it felt to be the man who came before the era of Bronx. You tried your best to keep that strap but when it came to paying up, your back buckled under the pressure while your shoulder shattered under the weight of the big belt and your need to hold onto it. The fear of losing your belt, your kingdom, and everything else threw you off that edge. The face of the company and the champion of the world shouldn’t be scared of shit like that.”

The flames had reached his doorstep. King Eli turned to face them but when he rose his arm, it fell limp by his side. He looked around to see the flames reach out and quickly consume Genie, reducing to mere bits on the ground. The King’s eyes widened in fear as he realized the gravity of his existence. The fire had circled around him, performing its macabre dance. Time shifted around him, speeding up as he saw the world change around his kingdom of burning matter. The warrior that defeated him had come and gone, new enemies rose, and even a weaker strain of gold laid on his shoulder.

“Skip a year now and you’re standing on the other side of me with the North American Championship. How does that shoulder feel now carrying lesser weight? It won’t break with that, right?”

The flames tore away at King Eli. He was strong but not so much so that he was invincible to the hellfire that was killing him. He fell to the ground in agony, his sword arm useless, and his kingdom dying in his sight. Even his eyes burned but it wasn’t as painful as seeing everything he worked hard vanish in a violent manner such as what he witnessed.

“Nevertheless, you’re going to talk shit to me like you’re the champion of the world from a year ago. You’re going to try to beat me and hopefully get that shot at the top again. Everything from SAP until now has been you trying to hype yourself to make another go at being the King. I’m here to tell you that you’re not ready.”

“You’re not facing Riley Savell, Tommy, Kimitsu, BW, or, thank the Gods, not Lord Raab—you’re facing me, Elijah. You’re facing Artemis Kaiser, the woman who took every record you made. If you wrote the book on a dominant run to the top, then I wrote the sequel and it’s way better. Because when you’re a once-in-a-lifetime talent like me, you don’t break when you carry the heaviest weight in the company. Now that 4CW wants to put all the mainstays of the company in front of me, I’m not going to burn out.”


The flames manifested into something else, a being that King Eli did not recognize. Stepping forward was a female being clad in armor accented by the fire. She lowered down to Eli, the King of Nothing, and grabbed him by the throat. Eli stared in the being’s eyes with his face vacant of all emotion but acceptance of his end. Her eyes were as blazing fire and she bore the name that no one understood except for her.

“I’ve been a champion since week fucking two of my career and I’ve been carrying companies on my back ever since.”

King Eli began to burst into flames, and yet, he did not roar out in pain as his peers did. Instead, he laid there, silent outside of the burning of his form. Soon, he was gone from the earth, scorched away into nothingness just like his kingdom. The being lingered as she noticed on the ground King Eli’s most prized possession, the 4CW Championship. It had reappeared when it was no longer within the King’s reach.

“So here’s what about to happen.”

The fire died around the figure, leaving the audience to see the true identity. It was Artemis Kaiser who looked on the remains of a dead kingdom with a soft scowl on her face.

“4CW will try to put every champion in front of me. They did it with Andre and you see how that went for him. They’re going to do it with Tommy and Omerta. Whenever he gets over his marital problems, maybe Laughlin will be ready to put his career on the line against me. At the moment, it’s you, Elijah. It’s my job as 4CW Champion of the whole fucking world to put you in line. You need to remember who the champ is, and it’s not you no matter how many times you repeat it in the mirror. My future as 4CW Champion is going to be a puzzle for management because I’m going to keep dropping champions and bullshit contenders. When I do, they’re going to have to make up reasons why people get title shots against me. Because it’s sure as hell won’t be because anyone beats me anytime soon.”

Artemis picked up the 4CW Championship out of the ash. She dusted it off and let the nameplate of the now deceased king fall to the ground. In a final act of defiance against whatever regime he had built, the new ruler stepped on the piece of gold.

“Heavy is the head that bears the crown, Elijah,” Artemis gave her championship a long look, “and since that’s case…”

“Why don’t you make it easy on yourself and bow down?”

7
Adrenaline / HUMBLE.
« on: November 12, 2018, 12:38:50 AM »

⭗⭗⭗

“Every artist knows that everyone’s a critic. Andre, you don’t appreciate my speeches or metaphors? I would say that I’m hurt but I was too busy getting ready to put you back in your place. Always remember this, Andre, this match is your biggest shot. You find a way to beat me and you could get a shot at this championship. It’s what happened with Viduus.”

The feed turned onto the image of the new 4CW Champion, Artemis Kaiser. This time, she sat inside of a normal room, not the blinding bright one that she usually did. Instead, it was a wooden cabin made of Macassar Ebony, where there was the gentle nestling of flames to offset the silence. Artemis held her 4CW Championship on her shoulder, stroking it lightly before she turned her head to the camera.

“And it’s a shame to know that you’re going to fuck that up as you have done with every other big chance you’ve gotten here in 4CW.”

“But it’s always the same thing when someone gets a belt after eons of being a failure. A year ago, you failed to win the Ignition Championship. Hey, I won that in, what, my fourth match here?”
Artemis shook her head, forgetting the thought, “then you lost in South Beach Brawl Cup. Followed that by teaming up with your best buddy, Mark, and lost in Bad Company.”

Artemis grinned at the camera, finding humor in not only Andre’s results but in mentioning Mark Storm.

“So let me be the first to welcome you to the biggest night of your life, Andre, but it’s going to be your worst loss ever. More than when you fucked up any of those bootleg title reigns. More than any time you vowed to make someone look bad and show the whole world that they’re not as good as they think they are.”

“The first few words you said has set you up for failure, Andre Holmes. I was expecting you to say something that I haven’t heard before. To many people, you might have done that.”


The 4CW Champion shrugged. "Too bad that none of it made any kind of sense.”

“You said that I was on Twitter calling myself the underdog, making up sympathetic speeches, and whining about how much I wanted to be champion. You said I should be humble when nobody was able to stop me from walking into Warzone and taking the top prize in all of professional wrestling? You even said that people ignored me, oh the horror!”

Artemis fell over the armrest of her chair, draping her hand over her forehead. She sat there for a moment before getting up with a scoff. When she got back up, she was quiet, and got out of the chair. Her eyes locked on the camera and whatever humor she had in her expression faded away.

“You must have me confused with somebody else. I must have a clone running around here doing the things you came up with because I don’t see any record of me making speeches or asking for anyone’s pity. That’s more your speed. Where’s your proof, though? Point to where I made a speech about my struggles. Point to where I begged for people’s attention. Tell me about any time that I’ve doubted myself. Go ahead. Fair warning, though. You’ll be looking for a long time.”

Artemis snickered, while she idly scratched her eyebrow. “You must have been looking at your reflection too much there, Andre. You must know that you’re the habitual underdog but not because of any reason but the fact that you have always failed at every big chance you get. You can claim the title ‘underdog’ but only because people don’t believe in you.”

“I take it that you were recycling what you said to Mariano because you think it’ll work on me. So let me get this right for you.”


Artemis shifted her championship on her shoulder while she flexed her jaw.

“I’ve never been an underdog a day in my life.”

“From day one of stepping into professional wrestling, I have been a force to be reckoned with, regardless of who was put in front of me. Rookies, veterans, champions, you name it. In my second match ever, I became a champion and ever since then, success has followed my footsteps while the rest of competition stumbled behind me, trying to keep up. I’ve known that fact for as long as I’ve been alive, so never in my career have I’ve been quiet about how good I’m fucking am.”

“And never in my career, even against so-called legends or in the hardest match in 4CW, have I thought that I wasn't ready to win.”


Artemis left a beat to linger in the air.

“I’ve always been arrogant. I’ve always been a type of person that just about gets off on watching other people fail. I’m more bloodthirsty than Dakota Smith. I’m more holy than anyone in Salvation wishes they could be. I’m doing everything you couldn’t and most people don’t know how to handle it. If you would do your research and not fire off like you were talking to somebody else like Genie or Riley Savell, you would get that, but since you don’t--you look stupid as fuck.”

“Meanwhile, you parade your trials and tribulations like they’re your armor and that’s going to keep your safe from this beating I got lined up for you. Get a clue, Sherlock, just because you’re a champion after all the time you’ve spent getting your ass kicked doesn’t give you ground to speak to me the way you did.”

“Because, Andre, you’re just another fucking failure too proud to finally win that silver medal.”


The environment began to fall apart, the cabin, the outside world. Everything began to vanish, leaving Artemis to stand in the center of the ceaseless void with her championship on her shoulder. In rapid successions, Artemis saw her history play out in 4CW until it ended with her standing as the 4CW Champion at the end of Fright Night. The image took up the screen and stayed there.

“At the end of the day, it took you getting beat ten times before you got your act kinda together and won the Pride Championship,” mocking his clapping, Artemis did so just once, “but it only took me one loss before I started my path to become the fastest person to ever win the 4CW Championship.”

A statistic appeared on the screen. 4 months was the record that only Eli Carlson came close to. Even then, she walked into the match as a champion. 2 months was all it took for her to become a champion in 4CW. It all started with a loss to Mark Storm, which played on the screen for a moment, followed by Artemis’ cold glare to nothing as she walked backstage.

“That’s how I handle my losses. I don’t sit there and revel in them. I don’t try to make up some bullshit to pad them and use them as a weapon. I use any loss I take as my motivation to make sure no one ever beats me again. I go out there and get more than even with the bitch that took a win from me. And so far in 4CW, I’ve done just that. That’s why we haven’t heard from Mark Storm in 4CW since I beat him to get into Warzone. And this hot streak isn’t going to stop because management decided to put you up to the plate like you’re a fat kid on the track team. This won’t be your chance to take the spotlight. This is your taste of what it could be like if you had the skills to keep up with me.”

A few images began to come forward.

“I don’t have to argue that I’m the best.”

Artemis putting down Genevie Carlson.

“I don’t have to demand matches to say that I’m the best.”

Artemis getting her vengeance against James Shark, DeMarcus Gresham, and Mark Storm followed in a destructive presentation.

“I don’t even have to try to humor you, Jett Wilder, or any of these sycophants sad that a filthy outsider came and beat everyone to the top of the mountain. People that have been for years have to look at those records and know that they missed out on another shot. At least, they’re better to you, Holmes. At the very least, they had their chance to fight the 4CW Championship while you’ve failed to even get close.”

“And all I have to do to remind everyone in 4CW that you’re walking into the main event that I’m going to hold captive is hold this championship high in the air and let the people sing my praises.”

“You’re the most forgettable out of the new champions. Eli got charisma and a good record, Laughlin has a good story that people can get behind, and I’m the person that everyone know was a fucking problem when I got here. But you? You got all your losses in your basket, a handful of wins over some weak ass people, and a few choice words. And you think that’s going to be enough to make yourself your equal? You must be out of your goddamn mind.”

“You dare get in front of that camera and say that I’m not going to do much with this championship because I don’t know what it feels like to be at the bottom? I have never been at the bottom before because I’m not a fucking failure like you or anybody else like you. I didn’t have to sit in my room and think about why I suck so much. I came in good and better than a good chunk of the roster and only got better with each match I won.”

“I don’t need no fucking struggles to be the best damn wrestler on the planet. That’s some religious bullshit for people that aren’t good enough to keep pace, all the Vosslers and the Griffin Hawkins of the world. You can have all of that and play with them while I remain successful and keep my seat here at the top.”


She tapped on her chin, catching a thought and staying on it for a moment.

“However, I will say that this defeatist complex you’re rallying for? I can’t help but feel a little interested in it. Where did it come from?” Artemis did ponder on the idea for a second, “I think I have a good theory for that.”

“Your whole schtick about knowing what it means to lose and work your way from the bottom came from the fact that you’re not as good as you used to be. You were forced to take a step back from your old days where you were able to walk into anywhere and make a name for yourself. The competition out there might not have been as good as where you are now. Here in 4CW, you struggle like you never have before. Even in SAP, you had a few good stumbles. Nevertheless, you remained stuck on the same shit that you think doesn’t stink. Many of the people did so because they figured you out because you’re too transparent.”


The final moments of matches played out in snapshots. All the time, it led to shots of Andre having to recollect himself. Some of them were simple exhibitions to play into rankings while others were times where he failed out of big chances, some to get into contenderships, others to win championships.

“Dean Judas, Genie, Tommy, BW, Mercer, Jair, Dakota, these are the people who figured your bullshit out. Funny enough, these are the kind of people that headline the main events here. These are the people who will be standing across from me in matches that people are going to be dying to see. The people that you probably thought you could beat when you were going around saying that you were going to be 4CW Champion. Hell, people were even doubting if you would lose to Mariano again, even though no one has faith in him anymore. This is your first main event here in 4CW after a full year of being in this company and you still haven’t learned what it really takes to be here.”

“You still haven’t learned that it’s not nice to doubt people, to call them a failure, and make fun of them? You win one championship here in 4CW and you think that it’s time for you to revert to the same bitch that lost to Alex Richards, Celeste Mallory, and couldn’t make good on his opportunities in WCF? You think that winning one match makes you the future of the 4CW, the answer to the Artemis Kaiser problem? You think that being able to stand on the other side of me with a championship on your shoulder makes you one of the best here in 4CW when I have already put myself up there in that category with a streak that many people can’t rival and people can’t fathom!”

“You don’t sound so humble yourself with the way you talk to me. You see, you had plenty of times to be humbled and yet you stand there in front of that camera trying to shed that philosophy on me, knowing that you’re a damn lie yourself. I bet it’s that championship you got there. You spent your career here losing to the top brass and beating the random people wandering in. You failed in your title opportunities so many times until you handcrafted your own against a man who choked harder than a virgin sucking her first dick. But I guess you did food enough for yourself? Now that you’ve ‘proven’ yourself to be able to get that far, you think that you’re better than the 4CW Champion?”

“Did you forget how to be humble yourself?”

“You’re holding the championship that everyone abandons and no one has cared about in some time now. Does that make you humble?”


The image of Andre Holmes laid out appeared, where it focused on his face after Celeste Mallory put him down for the UCI World Championship. As the camera panned back from his face, the memories of the buildup played out. Celeste’s hand on his wife, Kaitlyn’s womb, tormented him as tears began to well in his eyes. Time froze around him, where he was forced to stay in the world where he had fallen to his worst enemy.

“Does it make you humble to know that your family is always scared that you might be able to protect them? Celeste Mallory tested that and won. She walked up to your wife and almost killed your unborn children? You would think that you would go out there and beat her for your family, right? No, you didn’t,” Artemis laughed, “you went out there and lost like a bitch. Lost your championship too.”

The next image that flooded the camera was that of Andre Holmes on his hands and knees in front of a grave. On it was the name of his ex-wife, Samantha Pryor. Rain was frozen in place around Andre as he laid in his desolation of a tragedy out of his control. It would assault him and torment him, perhaps even to this day. The Pride Championship laid in the mud next to him.

“Or what about when you put your faith in your ex-wife, Samantha, when you tried for the WCF World Championship? Did that make you humble? No, I would bet it was when she killed herself that made you humble. No, I don’t think so. I wonder what your kids think about that? Did it humble you that they were alone out there with no father to take care of them the day that their mother took her own life because you didn’t love them anymore? I bet that’d make you humble.”

“You spend all this time trying to expose people in your matches that you fail to expose yourself. That’s where I come in. I’m going to do what you try to do to others but better. I’m going to cut you open and let everyone see what’s on the inside of Andre Holmes. You’re not the everyday man trying his best. You’re a failure that has to settle for second best. You’re not the hero that your kids can believe in. You’re a horrible father and husband, always putting their honor on the line and failing to make good on it.”

“You’re not going to be the one to stop Artemis Kaiser. You’re going to be the first of the new era to fall at my feet.”

“You’re not going to be the man that everyone will believe in. You’re just going to be an example for everyone to follow.”

“Stay humble.”

8
Adrenaline / The 4CW's Family Tradition
« on: November 08, 2018, 02:19:06 AM »

⭗⭗⭗

The trek up towards the mountain could kill a person if they weren’t careful. Canada’s weather wasn’t as fair to outsiders as it was to the natives. In fact, Artemis always compared the weather to that of a hungry beast, hoping to kill and devour wanderers every chance it got. Once prepared for the weather, a traveler could get used to the climate. Yet, there were always drawbacks to making one’s way to any of the numerous mountains in Canada. All the parts of Artemis' well-honed body ached with cold pain as she stomped through the immense snow. The howling of wolves in the distance wasn’t fearsome to her, merely a warning that even now, she could become a meal if she wasn’t vigilant.

What hurt worse was the wounds from the Warzone. She wondered if any blood seeped out, seeing as nothing had fully recovered. It would explain the wolves. Dakota Smith was mostly to blame for the anguish forcing her to stop along her journey. Barbed wire, an electrical cord, and a bed of nails were all the tools that he used to try to put a stop to Artemis’ ascension. It didn’t work but it did its part in making her feel like shit for the next few weeks. She cursed herself for her loathing towards painkillers but she knew that she needed too much. That need would become an addiction, and she has never had any of those.

So why start now?

Gritting her teeth, Artemis forced her way to her intended destination, a clearing on the mountain. She collapsed to the ground, resting her back against the snow. The coolness helped numb the pain running rampant through her body. The sky was bright, the sun was out, and all of it was a tease--it was still cold as hell. Her eyes drifted up to locate what she hoped was still there, and it was a grave marker. She let out a jet of cold air before getting back to her feet, searching the ground for one of her bags. Artemis grabbed it, trudged over to the grave, and reached for the contents within. Fifteen pounds of gold was in there, the 4CW Championship, still covered in hints of its holder’s blood.

The fatigue was too much. Artemis sat down on her butt, staring forward at the name plastered onto the marker. Her steely eyes narrowed while she held the 4CW Championship in her lap. Words began to creep out her mouth but she closed it to silence herself beforehand. The words were wrong, not worth saying. So, she remained silent until she took another glance at the nameplate of the gold in her hand. It did, in fact, say her name, to which she rubbed her eyes. Her mind wasn’t playing tricks on her. The 4CW Championship was hers. She did win the Warzone of Horrors. She was on top of the world now. Four years of turmoil and deceit had finally paid off. There wasn’t anything someone could say to her now. She was a world champion, and more so, she proved that she belonged on the top of the world.

Her whole career she spent chasing after the dreams of many wrestlers around her. She had garnered a reputation of a destroyer, someone who shouldn’t be messed with. People feared her, respected her, and even acknowledged as being higher than legends in the business. Yet, to her, it came from sacrifice. How many pieces of her humanity did she have to shed to become the champion of the world? How many losses made her hate the world more each time? Who was to blame for any of it? There lied something in the recesses of Artemis’ mind. Were they scars? Perhaps it was an answer. She couldn’t say; it was hard for her to do so. She hated staring in mirrors for too long. In her mind, she heard a single voice commanding her to do whatever she had to become the best. As Artemis finally captured the image of her being the world champion, she could speak the name of the person who she could blame and thank for everything.

“Hey, dad,” Artemis spoke harshly to the grave and the corpse deep within it.

Leon von Licht, the now-deceased patriarch of the Kaiser Dynasty, was instrumental in developing the madness and festering animosity that Artemis had. He wanted her and her siblings to capture the world in their hands and hold it with a death grip, never letting it go. He was vicious in his teachings and even worse in his punishments. It was all for the sake of making monsters that he could unleash upon any realm he wanted. He set many of them to wrestling, but none of them were like Artemis. She embodied his ruthless ambition and his swiftness to do away with any hindrances. Artemis got rid of her love life, her friendships, and even her well-being to stand on the mountainside with the most precious prize on her shoulder. As she got off the ground, she clutched the leather strap of the championship.

And then she threw it on the ground without a care.

“You see that?” Artemis smirked, “I know your spiteful ass is watching over us. Not because you wanted to protect any of us. You wanted to see if you dying would do anything. I guess you can move on happy because you abandoned this world for Hell and left the gates open. Look what you did. You didn’t put a chain on your hellhounds and now the runt of the litter is out here tearing out jugulars.”

“You feel that?” she asked, kicking the championship into the grave marker, like a kid with a soccer ball. “I’m better than anything you could have imagined. I’m a world champion, no thanks to you. All of those years of your training? It might have gotten me far but only I could pull that trigger to make myself into a fucking monster. I bet you’re taking responsibility for every success I’ve had since you died. It’s just like you. It’s just like you to take the blame and adoration for the stupid shit you put me and all my siblings through.”

Artemis slumped onto the ground, taking the championship into her hands. She held it close to her chest, letting the snickers she tried to hold back fly free from her. She was becoming a mess, a furious, maniacal one. One hand reached out and tore the marker out and she hurled it off the side of the mountain with a roar. She stomped on the grave, almost prancing, while she maintained a harmonic cackle.

“I’m glad you’re dead! All this time I thought you were my inspiration, only to figure out that you were my fucking plague! Nothing is holding me back. You don’t have any strings on me now, father dearest! Burn in hell! Burn with everybody else from this batshit family! You need to take the rest of these fucking weaklings in this world with you too!”

Artemis fell back into the snow again, exhausting her in the midst of her hysterics. As she looked around, she saw what appeared to be a wolf lingering on the other side of the mountains. It looked at her for some time until she was able to get a good look. As Artemis focused on the wolf, it ran off at a speed that her eyes couldn’t register. Picking up her championship off the ground, Artemis took a final glance back at her father’s grave.

“I’ll be seeing you,” Artemis then spat on the grave.

“Leon.”

⭗⭗⭗

The 4CW Championship was the first shot of the video, panning back to reveal its new holder walking into a packed audience. As she made her way through, none of the fans seemed to notice her. Even more so, she cut through one in the way that apparitions do before resting her arms upon the barricade. She looked towards the ring with a small, wry grin. The crowd was hysterical at the sight of something. Someone got hit and then pinned, leading to the abundant reaction by those surrounding the champion.

“Does it make you happy that you’re a champion again, Andre?”

Inside of the ring, Andre Holmes was forced to watch Jack Schlongson win the UCI Tag Team Championships for them both. Andre, the hometown hero, heard the audience explode, to which he was forced to revel in. Jack was in relentless pursuit of Andre’s affections--if only offset by his mannerisms and his teasing. No matter the case, Andre would be forced to live with the fact that he and Jack were bound by history. He was forced to take the championship and move forward.

“I know it was hard work beating Mariano Fernandez, right? The man you picked to face you?” Artemis chuckled, “I always found it odd that you picked him. There’s a motherlode of people you could have fought that would have given a better challenge. It wasn’t my place to question, so I left it alone. Over time, though, I started to realize why that might have been the case.”

The environment snapped to a different audience, still in UCI, but one that was seeing their hero fall for the first time. Albeit, it was indirectly, a Sanity Slip from Alex Richards ended the ill-fated championship reign. Andre still held the UCI World Heavyweight Championship at the time but there was a realization plastered on his face. There may have been a part of him that didn’t want to lose the championships that night. 

“It wasn’t that Fernandez was an easy fight. He’s a former 4CW Champion, someone that many people respect, despite his bumbling attitude. What I gathered was that you challenged Mariano because ever since he lost the 4CW Championship, he hadn’t put together the answer for winning another important bout, let alone a title match.”

“You wanted security.”


The scene switched the Killing Floor match where Andre won the UCI World Heavyweight Championship, predating his fall as Tag Team Champion. He avoided the Sanity Slip and hit the Thrust Kick, silencing Richards and getting the pinfall. It took losing opportunity after opportunity before Andre was able to succeed.

“Mariano didn’t have the capacity to take the Pride Championship from your reach. You were always one step beyond him, and you got the good match out of him. In the end, everyone knew that it was your time to take a championship here in 4CW but you made it certain by doing what you did. You didn’t make the same mistake that Mark Storm did, I know that for sure.”

“Now you’re here, the first Adrenaline after the win, and you’re facing me. I’m not a new champion here in 4CW, no. I’ve spent a good amount of my time as a champion, and all I did was trade in my old belt for a new one,”
Artemis shifted the 4CW Championship as the scenery changed again, “I’m going to tell you that this championship will be right here on my shoulder for a while.”

“Some would say that every champion says that. Not a single champion in any sport wishes to be a flash in the pan or a one hit wonder. I know you don’t, Andre, but you don’t really have the wherewithal to say that you will hold onto the Pride Championship. Meanwhile, I have records still standing in other places I’ve conquered. When I take a championship, it becomes a part of me like a Symbiote. It lives off me and I make sure that it’s the most beautiful thing in the world. The championship that everyone, even outside of 4CW, wants. Yet, the reason you don’t get to say the same things as I can is that you haven’t done anything as I have before.”


Celeste Mallory threatening his family brought out the deepest and worst parts of Andre. UCI dubbed this match as the grudge match of the century. Due to that, there was a veil over the championship portion of the match. Once the bell rang, Celeste and Andre would try to kill one another, as enemies do. People were not sure if Andre could reach down into himself and bring forward the darkest parts of himself. If Celeste wanted a fight with a devil, he definitely accepted her invitation. They fought with such fury and hatred.

But on that night, the “Defamed” wasn’t enough. Artemis witnessed Andre falling to the woman he vowed to make suffer. She saw Celeste force him to lose consciousness and take what he worked so hard for. She continued to watch as Andre covered his face in shame at losing on the first defense to his worst enemy. Artemis grinned at how Celeste emasculated Andre and left him in a pit of his own desolation, broken and utterly defeated.  The Devil was in the pretty that night, someone would recount.

“When I held championships, I’ve made people reconfigure. The path to glory through me wasn’t ever a valid one. For a long time, I never held the top championship. I was forced to avoid them through political means and faulty calls. So I would take whatever championship I wanted and make that the championship to have. Then, I made sure I beat everyone who tried to take it. Five defenses in one place. Four in another. Seven in my first place of employment. I took championships hostage and no one could pay the ransom.”

“That’s the difference between us as champions, Andre. I don’t lose championships.”

“I just use them like market shares.”


Andre crawled out his desolation to defeat Mikey Carson, becoming the UCI Intercontinental Champion and the first ever Triple Crown Champion. It was a defining moment that would lead to a Hall of Fame induction and a completion of a legendary career in the company. Artemis continued to examine the scene, seeing the fireworks go off. The London crowd chanted feverishly at the sight but as always, the environment shifted.

“Have you heard how many people speak ill of my victory? No one can come up with anything to say to me as I came down with that championship. Many are still in awe that I won the 4CW Championship, the crown jewel of our company, in record time. Meanwhile, people have set a time for you. They wonder how long until this high you are on comes falling to the ground. How long before Andre Holmes faces someone who wants it more than he does?”

"They're waiting for the last speck of sand to fall in the hourglass."


The story of Andre Holmes’ defenseless title reigns in UCI came to an end with him losing the Intercontinental Championship to Casey Holliday. The audience thanked him for his time and dedication but he walked out of his last match in UCI empty-handed. His run as the Intercontinental Champion was just another title reign to match the others. Artemis saw the disappointment in the audience’s face, derived from Andre’s departure and his final failure. Artemis then snapped her fingers, forcing everything back to the vacant, iridescent room she normally sat in. Andre Holmes stood there, frozen in time until Artemis moved him forward. Only then did he stand there as the 4CW Pride Champion, leading Artemis to tilt her head in wonder.

“If this match was for the Pride Championship, I would be taking it from you, Andre. Does that idea cross through your mind? You’ve come a mighty way since the days of UCI. Even when you were a Triple Crown Champion there, your win and acquisition of the Pride Championship dwarves everything you’ve done in your career. It’s one of the most important championships in all of professional wrestling and you have that weight on your shoulders.”

"And I'm not sure if you're ready for it."

Artemis approached the frozen Holmes, gliding her finger across his championship. His name was already on the nameplate, a mere presentation of things she said earlier about how he set his win up. He looked so proud of himself too. The 4CW Champion wondered what went on in his head at that moment. She knew what she was thinking when he won. 

Artemis was just sad she was about to steal her spotlight back from him.

“This is tradition, you know? The 4CW Champion versus the Pride Champion. You get a chance to be like Viduus and punch your ticket to the main event, the next stage. You want to go back, I know that for sure, but I’m not Anastasia. I’m not slipping up and proving to everyone that I wasn’t up to the task. I’ve torn my way through 4CW and just because I’m at the top doesn’t mean that I’ve grown comfortable. There's a lot of people I need to beat.”

“When I see you, I see a person that’s trying to take everything from me as Celeste and Casey did to you. You want to take away my championship because you want to be where I am at and do what I do. You may have the hunger for it but you lack the fangs. You might have a pretty new belt and you’ll make it shine brighter than most other belts in the world. Even outside world champions gonna wish they were the Pride Champion.”


Artemis tapped on the frozen Andre, seeing him celebrate, not knowing what lied in his immediate future.

“But when you stand next to me?”

The 4CW Champion gave a loving look to the championship on her shoulder, staring intently at the glistening nameplate that told the world who the belt belonged to.

“That belt isn't even silver compared to my gold.”

9
Fright Night V / Do The Evolution
« on: October 26, 2018, 08:59:46 PM »

⭗⭗⭗

“Dakota Smith dressed up like a ringmaster, talked like Captain Spaulding, and scared a bunch of kids with the sights and horrors of this batshit carnival.”

“Elijah Carlson dreamed this match up to be the treehouse he never had with bloody bells and whistles that he never asked for.”

“Persephone Marquis said that it was going to be the house where a massacre took place, just like that one in Amityville.”


“We don’t need any bootleg Halloween analogies to know what this match is.”

“The Warzone of Horrors is Hell. That’s how it was made to be. This is what happens when you let a twisted individual sit around with too much time on his hands. You make the most dangerous match that someone could ever participate in. However, so many of us want to walk right into the match. All eight of us crushed the hopes of those we beat to get into this match. In the end, it’s a possibility that none of us walk out. So why do we do it?”

“It’s all for the 4CW Championship that’s hanging in Heaven.”

“Too bad none of you can reach higher than me.”


The camera was met with blinding light, which came before the appearance of a suspended object, rocking side to side in the air. As the focus took hold, the object obscured was the 4CW Championship. The shot revealed that the room was like porcelain with only Artemis Kaiser sitting in the center of the room.

She didn’t have her Ignition Championship around her waist.

“When humanity evolves, it’s to keep themselves from becoming weak and obsolete.”

A church came first, forming out of nonexistence around Artemis, the proverbial narrator. Through the front doors came a man wandering lost inside of a world that didn’t love him. He was a faceless man without a home to call his own. Where does one go when they have nothing left? In the mouths of papists, an answer lies. A light descended on the unknown man, transforming him into what the wrestling world would know as Viduus Morta.

“Look at Viduus. He’s human, no matter how much facepaint he puts on or how much magical bullshit he believes in. Our 4CW Champion believes in a higher power. He wants us all to seek Salvation, which to me sounds like a cry of weakness. Viduus is an example of how humanity feels weak without a God. Viduus needs a congregation that will listen to the words of aimless men to make himself feel safe and sound when he realizes that the world’s closing in on him. He’s afraid to be alone, but he never thinks he’s alone. His God is always with him. That’s what those religious nuts always say, right?”

“It’s pathetic,”
Artemis snickered while the past version of Viduus morphed into the Union Battleground Battalion Champion, his first taste of gold that was taken quickly away from him by the people he stole it from. “Viduus, you don’t understand that your God or any God don’t love you the way that you think they do. When people like you, like everyone in Salvation, clings to a religion, they have to hold themselves back for two reasons.”

“You would rather not breach the heavens where your precious God lives because you’re not worthy. You’ll always be second best to him and you will never realize your potential. Really, the second reason goes hand and hand with the first. You never see the path that your God hides from you because you’re too busy waiting for him to show you the path. That’s what Salvation is. It’s a lie to keep people in order. You wait and pray for a long time to a person that may not be listening.”


“Your devotedness to your religion has given you an answer to one of the easiest questions in 4CW: ‘How to Beat Anastasia Hayden.’ It’s almost like a free space on a Bingo sheet.”

In place of the Battalion Champion, Viduus changed into the Extreme Champion, then the Pride Champion, before becoming the 4CW Champion that walks into the Warzone of Horrors with all the confidence and faith he could muster.

“You know, you needed to find religion to make yourself feel empowered. What happens the moment that you lose this match to me? Do you realize that your God left you or do you just continue to act as your God loves you? The difference between you and I is a very simple one. While you cling so desperately to an idea to make yourself a threat, I just look in the mirror and worship myself.”

“I never needed a God.”

“I am my own God and I’m the highest power there is.”


The last manifestation of Viduus was back to the faceless man, his visage shrouded in shadow as he laid on his knees in front of an altar with nothing but his faith and a broken spirit. The church soon burst into flames by Artemis’ hand, where she watched the avatar burn away into ashes and then into nothingness.

“So when I beat you, you’ll just get back on your knees like a good whore for your Daddy up in Heaven. It’s what you religious fuckers are good at, I hear.”

Amidst the flames, the avatar of Genevie Carlson appeared. Nothing was different about her except her clothing. She stood, unwavering, but stagnant.

“Genie, you never change, but it’s not because you never needed to. It’s because you don’t have the capacity to do so. You’ve always stuck to the same mess that got you to the dance, but with better timing. That’s what got you closer to your goal being 4CW champion each time, but it’s that part of you that never changes that leads to you getting dropped back down. You get back up and try again, no matter what, but you’re defined by your successes and your failures. You’re the first one to stand on your soapbox and scream to the world about how good you are when you have to gather up your accomplishments to make a ten-cent stance about why you deserve to be 4CW Champion.”

“It doesn’t matter how many times you fail, you keep on pressing. You add your failures to your successes and make the best of them, but it’s what invalidates your claim to fame.”


The flames crept up Genie’s body, eating her away.

“You’re the first one to talk about how many times you’ve been in Warzone. I can talk about how each time you failed, but even more I can tell you that you legitimately wasted one chance. You dare to stand here spewing some bullshit about Women’s Equality. You gave up your chance to become 4CW Champion for a man. You hold that to your chest like it’s a medal. There’s no honor in sacrifice. Elijah said himself that he didn’t care who you are walking into that match. You just found a way to make the inevitable L you took into something that kinda resembles a W.”

“Is that how SAP went too? Your biggest claim to fame there was beating up on that Celeste bitch and her idiot of a boyfriend. I thought you went there to reconstruct yourself? Nah, you were just the side piece to the story of Eli Carlson again. You’re proud of that too?”

“The XTV Championship, breaking Tiffani’s arm, shaking your tits around like a cheap stripper on a Tuesday night. I know you’re proud of that? You keep putting the 2nd and 3rd prize trophies on the shelf, acting like they’re the gold medals. Those are consolation prizes that you use to pad the losses. You think they shine so bright, but everyone can see what they’re made out of. And it doesn’t matter how bright you shine, you put yourself in Elijah’s shadow and that’s where you’re going to stay, especially after Fright Night. Go win every other championship. I’ll even let you take the Ignition Championship to make yourself feel better.”

“But you’ll never win the 4CW Championship and it doesn’t matter how well you can fuck with a story.”


Soon enough, Genie was gone from view.

“You’ll never be able to twist that.”

The flames faded away for the sake of the arriving Anastasia Hayden who came through it like an angel. The bright lights of Monarchy brightened up the youthful spirit that she possessed. A successful debut in the company that led her to get close to facing Ryan LeCavalier for the Monarchy Championship. Unfortunately, she was fired and her spot in the sun was given to the undeserving Coba Sunday.

“The former 4CW Champion, the scorned fighter, the hungry wolf, Anastasia Hayden. You seem to need a pick-me-up when you lost the big one, huh? It’s always going to some place where people are struggling already. They pale in comparison to your natural talent and your mission to be better than everyone. So why? Why is that you go to your Liberty Pro’s or your FSociety’s?”

Anastasia split into two, carrying their own belts. One of them was holding the FSociety High Roller Championship. The other one was holding the Liberty Pro Championship. They were both smiling brightly as they dominated the competition.

“Is it because you had to find yourself each time you failed here? Every time that you failed to take the 4CW Championship you played in the filth of the world. Why waste your time beating up people you know you can beat? You do it because somewhere in that ego and bravado you parade around, you know that you might not be good enough to fill Bronx’s boots. So you had to play make believe with all the other championships you went and grabbed when he beat your ass. You forced your own change, throwing yourself at the wall again and again until it fell down.”

The two combined together to make the 4CW Champion, finally there after ages of trial and error. The ego had become overwhelming at this point. unknowing of what wicked truths laid ahead for her.

“You might have fooled yourself into thinking you were finally ready after winning that Ironman match. There’s a reason why you’re happy with making sure that Viduus walks out without that 4CW Championship. It’s because you don’t want that smoke yourself. You don’t want to be 4CW Champion because your back just isn’t strong enough,” Artemis paused, “that’s okay. Just be ready to raise my hand when I come down from that ladder with the strap. You can pat yourself on the back and know you succeeded amidst your failure. But your backhanded compliments and your two-step respect bullshit? I don’t fuck with that.”

“The way you talk about everyone like you’re not sure if you respect us or not is because you don’t know yourself. That’s okay too because I see you. You did all you could to make it to the top of the mountain and when it came time to do the work after the fact, you fucked that up and lost.”


A beat.

“Anastasia, you blue-balled everyone.”

“So fuck your Cinderella sequel.”


The final manifestation in front of the screen was of the Alpha Cup loser, the former 4CW, and Liberty Pro Champion, the fighter without her prize.

She had nothing now but emptiness.

“The original was shitty, to start with.”

While Artemis ripped apart Anastasia’s incarnation, Omerta appeared as a counterbalance. Originally, they were not the men they were today. In fact, Dakota stood as he was before he climbed to the top of the Warzone of Horrors. The XTV Championship was on his shoulder. Cyrus Riddle wasn’t, well, Cyrus Riddle. Instead, he was the Cryptic Legend, Enigma.

“Omerta is like an hourglass to me. Dakota was the one who was chasing after Cyrus’ legacy in a way. He didn’t have any of the World Championships that Enigma had, but that would change. Sure, he doesn’t have numbers like Enigma had, but Dakota’s legacy grew to eat away at what Enigma…then Cyrus Riddle would sacrifice. Does Riddle thinks he’s special?”

Pieces of Riddle broke off to merge into Dakota.

“He was silent, an obedient slave to a selfish beast that wants everything. So truthfully, why do we waste time on the submissive? Like Erron, Riddle will give up every chance at reclaiming his identity for the sake of another. It’s almost heartwarming if it wasn’t so sad.”

Artemis broke through Cyrus’ incarnation to move closer to Dakota’s. The former 4CW champion consumed all of what Riddle was to make himself appear bigger and stronger.

“Whereas Dakota lives and breathes this persona of being The Butcher. He always knew that I was coming and I’m glad of it. Dakota, do you know that when I win, I’m taking everything you had made for yourself? You know my track record. You know the bodies I’ve left in my wake. You know that I’m just as much of a butcher as you are still trying to be. Really, this should be your last shot. You can stop putting on the mask, trying to make yourself into what you aren’t anymore.”

Artemis tapped on Dakota’s forehead, forcing it to crack like an eggshell. Those cracks crawled across his body before the violent machine became a father, holding a child.

“Your legacy’s in your arms now. There’s no point in you fighting for a reality that you lost long ago.”

Artemis flicked Dakota and Peyton, leaving them to their new life. However, a storm appeared before Artemis almost too fast for her to realize. Yet, when it was before her, Artemis met the chaotic torrent with a sympathetic grin.

“Bryan. Oh, Bryan.”

The Hardcore Champion to the UWF Tag Team Champion to the man on top of the world with the UWF Universal Championship. Everything came in rapid cycles, where Artemis couldn’t focus on a persona for long enough. The landscape shifted too much around them.

“You told how much you’ve forced yourself to change until change became recycling.”

The 4CW XTV Champion in the compound.

“Don’t you know that the different faces you wore were your armor? Now you don’t have any and it makes it easier to hurt you. It doesn’t matter if you were a monster, wearing face paint, or even now…a human trying his best. They will all fall at Fright Night. I’ll send you back to that compound with your failure. But that won’t be enough.”

“You’re used to that and that’s sad. This match will be a key performance from you, where you’ll try with all your strength to take hold of that championship hanging above, but it’ll be like the Ironman match. You’ll be so close only to fall crashing down. Sadly, you’ll fall through that cage this time. It’ll hurt, but not as bad as your pride. Every persona you have will scream out in pain as they realize that even the power of your cult wasn’t enough.”


“There is a consolation here for you, though.”

The 4CW Octane Champion in a bloodstained battleground, but Artemis paused amidst the personas to one in particular.

“I’ll send you home to Kaelin, licking your wounds and putting your broken dreams back together. I want you to find her and hug her close because to her, you’ll always be her 4CW Champion. But you’ll never be thee 4CW Champion, not as long as I’m here, not as long as I hold it.”

Artemis was in the Laughlin household, where the fallen challenger held his head while Kaelin tried her best to console him. It was worthless to try, because of the demons that he could never kill. Artemis waved the image away casually, forcing everything into a formless sludge on the ground.

“But we’ve saved the worst for last.”

Suddenly from a pile of desolation and grime came Alexis Mercer. Artemis stared at the manifestation with disgust, but her gaze never wavered. Mercer stood there with the WEW Championship, proud of her accomplishment that would soon become a distant memory.

“To say that I was impressed with your entrance into this match would have been an understatement, Mercer. For me, it would have to be via divine intervention for you to get into this match, let alone have a prayer of winning it. Jesus, Buddha, and Brahma would have all have to come down to make your dream into a reality. It’s safe to say that it’s not going to happen, but that’s due to your misconceptions about every last person in this match.”

Another phase, the time where Mercer climbed even higher than where she was. She was the WEW Undisputed Champion. Even that, the highest of honors, was an echo in a void that no one cared about anymore.

“There must have been some kind of injury to make you into the idiot that you are standing in front of that camera talking about the Mayans like they didn’t die out just like your career here in 4CW will.”

The EWC US Championship, a strap won to try to rekindle the flames that brought Alexis Mercer to the dance. Artemis tapped on the championship with a mocking grin.

“Evolution isn’t even in your dictionary, but you have changed. You’ve regressed. You’ve taken leaps and bounds backward ever since WEW died and you struggled to find somewhere to parade around your mediocrity. You think that’s 4CW? Have you seen the roster here? This is where people come to really change and push themselves. The best kind of pushing you can do for yourself is off a building or into oncoming traffic at this point. The only change that you’ve ever been able to do is how loud everyone can laugh at you.”

Then the form that everyone knew came forward, the embodiment of struggle and negligence. Alexis Mercer stood there, proud as ever, but she screamed into nothing but her own audience—one that didn’t exist but in the confines of her mind.

“This match isn’t going to be your second wind. This isn’t going to be your rebirth. This is going to be your dying whimper because of your inability to evolve past what you are now. You’re a miserable waste of space and you insult everyone else who could have been in this match. You’re going to fail. You’re going to keep failing after this match. The saddest part is that you’re going to make it all happen with every reckless, delusional word that your brain comes up with.”

Artemis kicked the manifestation, forcing it to burst into anguished debris. It returned to the murky depths that it spawned from.

“Keep digging your grave deeper. It’ll make it easier to bury your sorry ass for good after you dive right into it.”

The feed returned back to the porcelain room where Artemis sat, where it all began.

“I’ve heard people talk about Felicity Banks in the same breath as my name because we were in HKW together,” Artemis shrugged, “I guess that means that I’m going to hang off the side of a ladder. That, or I’m complacent, even though I’ve said that I was never satisfied with what I have. Hype is the biggest one. I’m hyped up, but I either live up to the hype or I don’t or I won’t be able to measure up in this match. There are even words that I’m just some bystander or that I’m not important in this match.”

“I have the Ignition Championship and a good record, but that’s because it’s third rate. Six match winning streak in one of the most difficult federations standing and that’s brushed off. I won my way in like everyone else, but it was against Mark Storm. I have more championships on my resume than Genie, Bryan, and Viduus combined and you’re a newcomer.”

“I get it. I’m new and I’m the outsider here.”

“I’m Artemis Kaiser and I’m the only person in this match who has never had to change.”

“I’ve never had to reconstruct myself to make myself a threat. I’ve always been a danger stalking accolades since the day that I decided to walk into professional wrestling. That isn’t to say that I haven’t changed. That’s why I’m different from the other seven. My way of changing wasn’t born out of a dependency. Failure never chased my heels, threatening to ruin everything that I’ve worked for. When failure came close to me, it only got a chance to fathom taking me down before I evolved. I don’t evolve to resist some inevitable downfall like everyone else.”


“When I evolve, it makes this gap between us even bigger than it already was and keeps you all humble. Especially with the constant failure that you seven repeat over and over again.”

“There’s no need in giving you people hope when every single one of you keeps fucking it up for yourselves.”

10
Fright Night V / Like A Virgin
« on: October 20, 2018, 08:10:24 PM »

⭗⭗⭗

Artemis Kaiser never challenged for a world championship in her career.

It was a fact that usually evaded any mention of Artemis because of her reputation. She was a competitor that didn’t need a world championship to sit at the top of being one of the most dangerous and successful wrestlers of her time. To Artemis, this was the worst part of her career. If she never won a world championship in her career, she was a failure. She has thirteen championships under her belt in the span of four years. The only person that had more than her in Warzone was Cyrus Riddle, but statistically, Artemis had more success per year than everyone else in the match. It was the small things like that for analysts to fawn over. She didn’t have a world championship on that resume, and Artemis looked to change that at Fright Night.

Her success in 4CW had been questioned due to the opponents she had faced. The people she defeated were light work for the other seven. The Ignition Championship was a starter championship that Artemis claimed, but there was a reason for her being in this match. If someone pulled the magnifying glass back on Artemis, they would see how she’s represented in other federations and in the wrestling world.

At the same time, everything that happened outside of 4CW matters to a few people. It especially doesn’t matter to Artemis while riding in her car. Driven around by some family friend, Artemis had the perfect time to focus on watching the footage. With several opponents, she had to find the perfect way to spread her time. Successfully doing that like all great wrestlers made her prepared for the subtle habits that every competitor had. Psychology always played a role in wrestling, either consciously or subconsciously. The grudges, the dreams, and the conquests would force people to take seconds to think about what to do next. Those seconds would become mistakes. The interpersonal relationships between some of the heavyweight contenders would come together as well. Artemis would take advantage and it was all a matter of taking notice of how people operated.

However, these preparations were a mask for the internal thoughts creeping through Artemis’ mind. She has competed in main events on regular shows, pay-per-views, and even flagship shows. It was breaking into the world championship stage. Once she was there, it was like taking grasp of a lifeline that could slip away in a moment’s notice. Artemis put down her tablet, where she was watching Anastasia losing to Viduus for the third time. Once again, she had to commit to the ritual she had before important matches.

She stared down at her hands.

These were her weapons. Names, big, small, and legendary, fell to the might of Artemis Kaiser’s hands. In 4CW, her hands have garnered her a new championship, a top ranking, and a place on one of the most hyped matches in 4CW. The Warzone of Horrors was consistently the Match of the Year. The event was properly sold out. Her weapons got her there. Each match she won from the seemingly random to the high stakes, they were all won by her hand. Bloody, bruised, and even broken, Artemis’ hands were that of a world champion waiting to hold the gold to prove that.

Her hands were her connections. Every long day of training under her father’s brutal tutelage or the seminars she went out to or the times she spent with veterans learning their journies catered to this opportunity. The wars she had with certain competitors, the silence before the opening bell. Artemis would clench her fists to feel her strength bolstering in them. If it was there, then she knew that she could win. There was never a time where she felt that she could lose. To be the strongest of them all, she had to have that confidence, that ego erupting from every movement she made. That was what a world champion needed.

Sitting in the car, Artemis clenched her hands so tightly that her nails dug into the flesh of her palm. Blood drew while Artemis gritted her teeth. In what was a flash in a car heading towards the town where Fright Night would happen, Artemis saw every match play out in a flood. Time had compressed for her and her alone. She saw her weakness as she couldn’t force her way into the world championship scene in her first year as a competitor. In a time of super rookies these days, Artemis back then couldn’t mimic them. In the next three years, she witnessed how companies looked over her and gave opportunities to those who didn’t deserve it. She saw the politics play out until the companies folded.

Now, she sat in a car waiting for the day to fight in the Warzone of Horrors. It was a living hell for many. For Artemis, it was something else. The ladder leading to the 4CW Championship was the top of the tallest mountain in the world. On her way, she had clawed out pieces of her humanity to gain the strength necessary to compete. People called her short, erratic, and just another hyped up fighter that wouldn’t achieve greatness. She beat those people and walked on their bodies. She abandoned friends, lovers, and even family to make it to this point.

For others in this match, this is just one of their multiple shots at the top prize.

But Warzone? It was Artemis’ first shot.

Her only chance.

Even if she had to kill the whole fucking world and herself to do it, she was going to make good on it.

⭗⭗⭗

“It’s a beautiful sight.”

When the camera came on, it immediately cut to the visual of Artemis’ back as she stood in front of the hellacious structure that would house her at Fright Night. As she looked at it, a passive smile was on her face. Like many walking into this match, Artemis wasn’t a stranger to dangerous environments like this. One of the many reputations that Artemis carried was the fact that she was a deathmatch specialist, having competed in many throughout her career. Riddled across her body were the scars from those wars, and they were all her treasures. She wore them proudly, especially in front of the camera recording her. Only clad in a sports bra and her wrestling trunks, Artemis’ back was the first thing that viewers got the opportunity to see. In passing, one may not get the chance to see them, but there were scars across her shoulder blades down to her lower back. Being whipped with a biker chain tore asunder the flesh on her back, Artemis could recall each individual lash. Katalina Star was nothing to her, but their forced encounter in her younger days had helped paint the image. She had stabbed Katalina with a stake of wood before the match ended between them. The scars that remained were a ghastly insight into the amount of pain that Artemis was willing to endure to disfigure, maim, and defeat her enemy.

No one heard from Katalina Star anymore because of Artemis.

“The night that I walk into Warzone is the night that I fight for my first World Championship,” Artemis chuckled to herself, “isn’t that interesting? For as much damage that I’ve dealt, how many people I’ve beaten, and how much fame I’ve garnered, not once have I stood on the world stage. For many, that’s a weakness of mine. Why is that Artemis Kaiser, the world destroyer that she is, never fought for a world championship? Does that define me as a failure? Does that define me as not fit enough to be in this match?”

“Of course not. I won my way into this match like everybody else.”

Artemis shrugged gently.

“You know how people do, though. Even with the best record coming in and my name on top of those divisional rankings, people will try every method they can to avoid the obvious. I’m the newbie here and to be here this early in my 4CW career? Oh, that’s almost blasphemous.”

“I enter this match against people who have stood on this stage numerous times, while I’m the virgin to it all. Seeing that as the reason why I shouldn’t be here is the first step to me winning this match. You can look at my track record throughout 4CW and say that the only person that I’ve defeated of any true value is Genevie. If that’s the case then, shouldn’t we cast that opinion towards her? Since I’ve defeated her, does she deserve to be here? Or is this just everyone’s way of trying to invalidate my ascension? Is that denial? Is that even fear that I hear?”

Artemis scoffed as she took her first steps towards the cage. She brought her hand forward, feeling the chainlinks graze her skin. As she got close to the door, she heard the sickening crunch of Tiffani Michaels’ arm as Genevie brought out the worst in herself. Three times did the cage door collide with Tiffani’s arm before Genevie was satisfied with the damage. Artemis looked on at the damage as the memory played out, in the similar fashion to what Dakota himself did. As Tiffani fell to the ground, watching her chance at glory fade away. As she did, Artemis walked on her body, forcing it to dissipate into ash and from there to nothing.

“I chase the championship hanging above us like Genie, Laughlin, Mercer, and Anastasia does. The championship is the most important thing in the world to many of us walking into this match. For some like Viduus or Dakota, it serves as their way to force 4CW to see their squad as the dominant force. From depressing factions like the Dogs of War to the successful teams like Ascended Supremacy to even the shitstains of 4CW’s history like Crooked Kingdom, every member wants their team to take control. Omerta and Salvation both have their place in this match, where Viduus has the championship, but Dakota and Riddle long for it to be back in their home.”

“Like all the other factions, teams, and regimes, they die. Salvation will do all they can to stave off the inevitable, but die trying. Omerta will reconstruct itself again and again in pursuit of becoming even more successful, but they’ll splinter and show their weakness. In Warzone, the only thing that matters is what the individual will do to win. If that means throwing your ally off the top to take what you think is yours, well…”


Artemis glanced towards a side of the structure, seeing Erron Wilder plummet through a glass table. He lingered there in ruin until he faded into ash.

“You do what you must.”

The Ignition Championship laid on the inside of the ring, where people were pinning one another to win it. Mariano Fernandez pinning a bloodstained JPD. Johnny Evil pinning Erron Wilder on a bed of nails. Adrian Tanner Jr. pinning Scott Stevens. Artemis picked up her championship from the ground, dusting it off like it was merely misplaced. As the memories of Mariano, Evil, Wilder, and JPD vanished, Artemis looked at Adrian Tanner Jr. With a tap, he vanished as well, but his spirit ascended into heaven.

Like it was supposed to.

“I walk into this hellscape as the secondary champion. It’s obvious that my championship will be thrown around, but that doesn’t bother me a bit. The very second that I won my way into Warzone, I was already trading in my championship for a new one. It’s like trading in an old car for a new, shiny one. The championship that I’m trading for is the most gorgeous in wrestling today and I don’t mind watching people fight over the scraps like the vultures they are. Whoever leaves with the Ignition Championship will know it as the consolation prize while I walk out as the new 4CW champion.”

“I don’t want the consolation prize because I want to make good on my first chance at the top. I don’t want my sloppy seconds. Four years. I’ve been denied four years every opportunity to become a world champion. In a place like MSW, that segregated me from the top because of what parts I was born with, I waited. In another, GPW, I had my chances stolen from me because the management wasn’t ready to see me put a stranglehold on their most prized possession. HKW catered to the Banks family and nothing else, even though I am eons better than everything that Felicity Banks was.”


The gagging noises that followed Artemis’ words brought the camera’s attention to the former 4CW champion hanging off the side of the ladder. This time, Jair or Lorenzo were there to save her. The dying breaths of the makeshift HKW legend brought a rather euphoric smile to the face of the Ignition Champion. Artemis raised her hands, commanding an opera of asphyxiation until she threw her hands down, where the final note rang true. The last gasp of Felicity Banks and the acute snap of her neck came before her disappearance.

“But I’m patient. I’ve bided my time because I know what it would finally mean to get this chance. Even in a dangerous place like this, I’m excited. This place is not my Hell. It’s my paradise. It’s my Mecca. It’s my wonderland. I’ve been on a journey to reach this place like everyone else, but I’m more than everyone else in this match.”

Artemis dropped the Ignition Championship, leaving it to the same fate as the field of failures that she saw. She began to ascend towards the top of the cage, the proverbial second phase of the match. It was here where people made miracles a reality and their sadistic tendencies shine brightly. Dakota Smith’s existence blinked between him throwing Wilder off, hanging Felicity, and taking the 4CW Championship in the second Warzone. Artemis’ vision of him wasn’t any of those. She looked to the center of the structure, where the memory of Viduus sending him down through the cage played out. Upon impact, Dakota vanished while Artemis laughed.

“It’s because this hunger that I’ve cultivated for four long years makes me the hungriest wolf in the den. I’m starved, I’m vicious, and I’m ready and willing to rip apart the whole fucking world to get that championship. I’m too hungry to sacrifice this chance as Genevie did. I’ve been wanting what Laughlin couldn’t get every time he fucked it up. I’ve been lusting for what Mercer and Riddle only had in lesser places. I’m not going to let Anastasia or Dakota get seconds. And the prey that’s sitting there with the crown, Viduus? He can’t fathom in all his otherworldly knowledge what I’m going to do to get that belt.”

Artemis cast a look towards Viduus, who gazed down into the abyss.

“Off my throne, Jester. The Empress sits there.”

With a gentle shove, Artemis sent Viduus down through the hole in the cage that he made. Like Dakota, he burst into ash on impact. Artemis looked towards the ladder, where Elijah Carlson reached for the contract. When he got it, the cries of Genevie’s happiness erupted and Elijah held up the very thing that would ensure his eventual ascension to the top. Artemis walked over to the memory, where Genevie held Elijah up while they celebrated “their” victory. Artemis sneered at the sight.

“I won’t need to parade around the fact that I’ve failed in this match as a badge of honor.”

Artemis pushed the Carlson Dynasty off the edge of the cage, sending them into nothingness. Next, Alexis Mercer lingered on, holding her WEW Championship closely, a bygone era that she hasn’t been able to ascend to since.

“I don’t have to try to relive my past.”

With a boot, Alexis fell to her doom. Artemis made her way towards the ladder, seeing Laughlin standing before her. The man was fractured between the family man and the monster he always was. It was a sympathetic existence to some. Artemis herself found herself there before she came to 4CW.

“I’m not going to fail and fall at every turn.”

With that, Laughlin was gone, plunged from the edge as Artemis started to climb the ladder. Cyrus Riddle stood on the side she climbed, Anastasia Hayden on the other.

“My life isn’t defined by the murder of my legacy.”

Cyrus took his plunge into the same hole as his Omerta brother.

“Finally, I won’t waste my time that I’ve spent making it here. When I win this championship, I won’t provide 4CW with a lackluster reign. I’ll be the champion that 4CW needs. I’ll be one devoid of any connections to any ill-fated faction. I’ll be the new era that every person tried to say that they were. I’m the outsider walking into the kingdom, a usurper that none of you could prepare for. I’m Genghis Khan, Attila the Hun, and that alone should warn you.”

Artemis put her hand on Anastasia’s head and with a lazy sentiment, she sent Anastasia off the ladder to the ground outside. Artemis sat on top, reaching to take down the 4CW Championship. While she rested it on her shoulder, a final image came forward. Bodies of every competitor came falling down around her, plunging to their destruction. Persephone Marquis, holding her contract that led to nothing. Bronx Valescence, the now fallen ace of 4CW, injured and lifeless. Jason Cashe, the winner of the first Warzone, who killed his reputation and legacy. All of the people falling were those who had entered Warzone in some facet, either to be a winner or to be a failure. Artemis paid no mind to them as she sat there with a small smirk on her face.

“Don’t fear the outcome, though. No one should fear the inevitable.”

11
Adrenaline / 20 Reasons Why Artemis Kaiser Hates Mark Storm
« on: October 07, 2018, 11:36:34 PM »

⭗⭗⭗

Unlike the previous videos, Artemis didn’t tantalize the viewers with the esoteric, yet poignant representations of her enemies. Instead, the room she sat in was white and empty. The bright void only contained the Ignition Champion, her championship, the stool she sat on, and finally a stack of cue cards that had on her lap. Artemis looked at the camera head-on with a neutral frown and took off the first card.

“I hate you, Mark Storm, and I have twenty reasons why.”

Almost playfully, she held up the first card to the screen, revealing the text on it.

“I hate you because you’re you.”

There was even a little smiley face drawn next to her hateful words.

“Have you ever looked at someone on the bus and questioned why they were allowed to breathe? That’s you for me. I don’t hate many people for this reason as much as people like to say otherwise. For you, though, I just have this uncanny inkling to despise even before you beat me. I would see you come up on some match card and roll my eyes. I would hear someone say your stupid catchphrase, either ironically or not, and I would want to punch them in the face. I never met you at that point. So, really, the first reason why I hate you is that you exist and that fact is a crime against humanity.”

“I hate you because you look dusty,” when Artemis said the words, a hint of her Newfoundland accent came forward. The Canadian hybrid of Irish and American Southern came out upon the word “dusty”, but Artemis didn’t seem to mind.

“You look like a fashion model in all the worst ways. Unlike them, where they’re paid to dress like that, I bet you stock your closet with crap from thrift stores and think you look cute. Some people may think so, but I think you look like your mother didn’t love you enough and now you’re acting out to compensate.”

“I hate you because you got shitty kicks.”

“Just like so many others, you’re a dude that went to Japan and raided some dojo. When you were done, you came out with some STRONG STYLE knowledge and think that you can kick a house in. Your striking may pay the bills, but get over yourself, it’s nothing new. You’re not even the best in 4CW.”

“I hate you because of your stupid summer show.”


A beach ball fell into view, bouncing towards the champion. She leaned over and popped it with a needle, watching it flatten out with a slightly amused expression.

“Cosmo Cooper did it before you and did it better. You should have done it in the mountains and try to look different. I was hoping that your bouncy castle popped and you got stung by a jellyfish.”

“I hate you because your smile is ugly.”

“When you smile, people think that it’s fake. Other people see it and think that you’re up to no good. Not in a fun way either. They think that you’re dead on the inside and you just smile because you think it works. They think you’re a robot. They think you’re hiding bodies in the trunk of your car. Your smile looks like your teeth don’t fit your mouth. You smile like you think that’s cute. When you smile without showing your teeth, you look like you’re constipated. So, stop smiling, man.”


“I hate you because your hair is trashy.”

“Your hair looks like you’re scared of hairbrushes. Your hair looks like you took McDonald Fries and used the grease as hair gel. You look like you went to the barber and told them to get creative. When you dye your hair, you look like you’re trying to be a throwback to Justin Timberlake, but fucked it up along the way. Your hair looks like you never dry your hair and it smells like mold up there. It must be hard to have the kind of bad hair when you can’t keep it long or cut it short. Don’t try to cut it all off either and ‘rock the bald look’. You’ll still look bad.”


“I hate you because you think you’re so cool.”

“You spread catchphrases around like an STD. Your Hero, and Mine? The fuck does that even mean? You speak like there’s always a joke that you want people to laugh at, but we’re already busy laughing at you. You talk like you came out a bad Adult Swim show. Just because you watch The Eric Andre Show or listen to Odd Future doesn’t make you anything special. Trying to be like them doesn’t make you interesting either. The only reason those things work is that people try to get the joke. It sucks for you, though, Storm. No one cares enough about you to try to get your jokes.”

“I hate you because you’re a world champion and I’m not.”


Artemis couldn’t help but peer down at her championship resting snuggly around her waist, she had gotten used to the feeling.

“I wish I had the time to go to places like EVO. I could be world champion too. I could finally take that thought away from myself where I don’t think I’m good enough because I’m not a world champion. In the meantime, I beat world champions almost weekly. But you? I have to watch every week as you parade around with your championships while I sit here, grinding to get to what I want. I can’t walk into any random company and take the top championship. I’m a starter by nature while you should be on the bench, but you can go to any given place and get a championship in your hand with that stupid smile on your face. That’s the hypocrisy of wrestling, I swear. I work harder than you. I do more than you. I beat bigger names than you do. That’s okay. I’m good making my championship the most sought after one in 4CW.”

“I hate you because you’re so…,”
her eyes narrowed at the camera, where she searched to find the appropriate word, “weird.”

“Not artistically weird. Not revolutionary weird. Not even hipster weird. No, you’re just weird. You’re the kind of weird that makes people watch you from across the street. You’re the kind of weird that makes people lock their doors for all the wrong reasons. They don’t think you’re a killer. They think you probably smell like the lotion you jerk off with. They talk about you on the phone with their friends, telling them to watch out for the dude that lives on the third floor at the end of the hallway. You’re that kind of weird. The weird that makes people wish you would fuck off and bother someone else. That’s the kind of weird I think you are. I just want to go the fuck away and get the hell out of my way.”

“I hate you because you think you and DeAngelo’s boyband thing is going to stick.”


She chuckled to herself after speaking those words.

“The boy bands that were worth a damn are dead. Once again, like you always do, you think that you’re so cool. When really, you and DeAngelo sound exactly the same and you both annoy the piss out of everyone. It’s just another team that’s going to get brought up in every conversation, but only because you two don’t know when to stop a joke that was never funny, to begin with. Cancel yourselves before you make a travesty out of yourselves.”

“I hate you because you’re a living contradiction.”


“You’re contrarian. You’re counterculture. You’re a rebel against the norms of society, but at the end of the day, you make no fucking sense. You’re like the kid in school that got a dictionary for Christmas and decided to string along some words to make themselves sound like a genius. Then you’re the first to complain about being misunderstood and being overlooked. No one has time to unwrap the convoluted enigma you think you are, the words say, or the illogical moves you take.”

“I hate you because you got an identity crisis going on.”


“This isn’t some shot at your condition. There are plenty of crazy people with the same exact problem, but for you? You don’t commit to the changes. I bet when you get beat down enough, you’ll change your tune to try to evolve yourself. Evolution isn’t a thing you can force. Sometimes, it doesn’t come to people because they’ve reached their limitations. If you look at me and you look at yourself, you can see the difference. For me? I might have lost to you, but I’ve been evolving myself with every match. Close matches became dominant displays. While you went from winning to failing. That’s regression, Mark, and that means it’s time for another personality change. Can we go back to the whole murderer thing you had going on in WARPED? It might scream 2008, but I think it’s a good look for you.”

Artemis’ smile radiated discontent, but she stopped to pick up the next cue card. She looked at it for a moment and her face contorted with obvious disgust.

“I hate you because you think Wes Anderson is a god.”

She paused and then shrugged.

“Yeah, I love Moonrise Kingdom and some of his other movies, but he’s not all that. He’s kinda limited in his ways. He never evolves, which I guess is why you like him so much. I’m a Scorsese, a Kubrick, a Hitchcock—wait, no, I hate La La Land, but I’m a Damien Chazelle. I’m young, I’m brilliant, and with age, I’m only getting better. Meanwhile, you’re stuck and people are going to start to say that more and more. Keep trying to be artistic and unique and you’re only going to fall to the wayside with all the others.” Artemis had taken to making her pile neat and orderly at the very least.

“I hate you because you’re wasting your potential.”

“In your constant effort to be a unique personality in an environment of special fucking snowflakes, you’re squandering what made you recognizable, to begin with. You’re falling off. Andre Holmes is able to hold you up, but we already spoke on your abysmal record. I’m a win on that column, but everything else about you has reeked of failure. People will slowly start seeing you as not the incredible talent that we know you are. We’ll start seeing you as a tragedy of wasted time. Then we’ll see you as just a waste of time. Finally, we’ll see you as nothing at all. People will say ‘remember Mark Storm’ and people will reply ‘I don’t I remember him.’ Is that what you want, Mark? Do you want people to forget you?”


“I hate you because you’re wasting my time.”

“The marketing is there. The ratings will be up. People may vote us Match of the Night. But at the end of it, I’m going to be frustrated that I had to waste so much time fighting you. You’ll put up a valiant fight instead of rolling over like a good dog and letting me move past. You know that you’re going to fuck up if you get into Warzone. You know you’re going to fuck up in general. So why bother getting in my way and making me have to work overtime because I couldn’t get an easy opponent like Dakota Smith did.”

“I hate you because you’re the face of the Dogs of War and you don't deserve to be.”


“The Dogs of War is a concept that polluted my timeline and my airwaves every time that I got on any kind of social media. I had to watch as the Dogs of War went after opportunity that was presented to them. I saw you take that Jr. Heavyweight Championship and do absolutely nothing with it. I saw you get shots at the CWC World Championship all because of what the rest of the Dogs of War do and not make good on the opportunity there. In the same stroke, you’re here in front of me, getting a shot at my championship all because of Andre. You should thank him for getting you the chance, but hate him for getting you set up. This is an ass beating that you’re not ready for, but when it’s all said and done? It will be just another opportunity you don’t deserve that you’re going to waste, while people like David Sanchez and many others are out there waiting for their shot.”

“I hate you because you don’t know how to give up.”

“I think that’s dumb of you to think that you can keep trying and eventually get somewhere. You think that the Dogs of War are going to be tag team champions so much when each time you lose, you don’t realize how far back it puts you. The world doesn’t change because of words. It changes because of action. Your thoughts don’t have any meaning on how the world works these days. You’re not a man of action anymore. But you don’t give up. Some people respect that about you, but I don’t. It’s like watching an idiot think they can break through a wall with their skull.”

“I hate you because you haven’t said anything about this match coming up.”

“GOOD GRIEF?”
Artemis scoffed, “is that all you have to say about what I said about you? Nothing else? Is that all you got? I know that you’re going to say something even more idiotic, but you disappointed me with that tweet. Genevie stoked the fire. Shark told me that he respected me. DeMarcus cut into me. Now I’m sitting here wondering about if you really deserved to be in this match to start. If that’s all you have to say for yourself, then I must have said something that you couldn’t reply to. That means I’m right, and it feels good to know I am.”

Artemis’ eyes lowered as if other thoughts started to cross through her mind. The absent expression on her face went against the playfully, smug ones that danced on her features earlier in the video.

“I hate you because I don’t fucking know how you got into this match.”

“I don’t know how you get so far sometimes. It’s like you live in your own world where the Dogs of War are something to respect. Like I said before, I don’t believe in the hopes and dreams of a team that doesn’t know their limitations. I don’t believe in a man who doesn’t have his personality under control and always burns out before they get anywhere. I don’t believe in you, Mark Storm. You used to be worthy of being called a hero, even if it’s just a joke at this point. I used to buy into the hype. I used to think that you were a worthwhile investment when you joined every company that needed someone to fill a spot. Now, I’m waiting for you to say anything just to save face. I’m waiting for you to talk so that I can laugh at your half-assed attempt to stop me from giving you every bit of pain that I think you deserve.”


Artemis paused, letting her eyes drift back up to the camera’s view. She let the silence of the empty room settle, instilling its gravity on the feed and the viewers watching.

“I hate you because you beat me and I can’t erase that loss off my record.”

“And I don’t like losing, but unlike you, I don’t talk all the crap in the world and don’t do anything to make good on it,”
Artemis paused, “so when I’m done beating you like I should have when we first fought, I’m going to get up, dust myself, and forget that I ever hated you. I’m going to forget that I ever thought anything of you.”

The champion stood up from her seat, turning the last of her cue cards towards herself. She looked at it longingly before giving the camera a small gaze.

“After Adrenaline, I’m going to be fucking done with you.”

12
Adrenaline / Zero Progress
« on: October 04, 2018, 01:45:17 AM »

⭗⭗⭗

To the mass audience, Artemis’ statements were things to promote and remember about her. She wondered if she was becoming the epitome of truth and conviction. Artemis told the story of JFRESH and told the world that her beating him was the ending. Where was James Shark in 4CW now? Nowhere to be seen. All that mess about “going back to his old self” went up in smoke when Artemis dropped him on his neck. When she said that she was going to get her revenge on DeMarcus Gresham, she did. Now the man’s trying to find a new way to reinvent himself after getting choked out. When she said that she was going to put an end to this Johnny Storm charade, she did. The fake hero was nowhere to be seen. It was hard to deny her because she had the facts to back up every single one of her claims. Then again, Artemis never believed herself to be a liar or spew useless words.

Contrary to the presentation of her dominance, Artemis couldn’t help but come up with the answer to why she said what she did. It wasn’t until after she learned of her opponent on Adrenaline 92. Defending her belt had become second nature to her as it started to become the majority of her career. Now she was staring at not just her chance to get her first shot at the 4CW Championship, a title defense, but the answer to her internal question. There wasn’t any point in second-guessing herself either because she knew exactly why too.

“There are no heroes in 4CW.”

Your hero, and mine.

“Artemis Kaiser has no rivals.”

Mark Storm defeated Artemis Kaiser at Adrenaline 85.


As Artemis looked at the paused video frame of Mark Storm with her arm raised, everything she had done in 4CW so far didn’t matter. The Ignition Championship was thrown onto the floor from a fit of rage. Artemis’ face was devoid of the glee and confidence she carried with her everywhere. Instead, there were things like exasperation, frustration, regret, and eventually, resentment. For the thirty-fifth time, Artemis rewinded the tape back to the last moment, her last mistake, and the ruination of her dream debut. Artemis had a nasty habit of biting her lip when she was agitated, chewing on it until it bled. The taste of blood would ruin her dinner that night, leaving her to go to bed hungry. In which case, she could care less—it was a punishment to herself. Starve herself for the night as penance for losing in such an embarrassing way.

Thirty-six times now she replayed the match. At that time of night, her mind stopped trying to catch the mistakes for making strategies. It was 3:53 AM. She was only up to continue to centralize the hatred she felt towards Mark Storm. James Shark was a symbol of her family’s failures and how the relics of wrestling’s past needed to stay the fuck away from the present. DeMarcus Gresham was burying the memories of HKW, along with the whole damn company itself.

To most people, Adrenaline 85 was a blur.

To Artemis, it was the portrait of her mind keeping her up at night. Having a loss against Storm made her nervous in a unique way. Once again, she was standing against the wall, inhibiting her forward progression. She had never been to the world stage before. People feared the day that she would make it there, but through politics and federations burning up, Artemis never had the scent of the most precious gold. Sweat rolled down her face as she looked back at the Ignition Championship. The nervousness was on steroids, installing paranoia into the recesses of her fractured mind.

Losing to Mark Storm would give him the world all over again. Mark Storm would be in Warzone. Mark Storm would be Ignition Champion. For Artemis, though? She would be at the back of the line. She would waste all the time she had spent putting people down. She wouldn’t be able to avoid admitting that Mark Storm was the person she couldn’t beat. Artemis Kaiser doesn’t have a kryptonite to make her weak. If she lost, though, people could definitely make the argument. Artemis wouldn’t be able to live with herself—hell, she might as well die if she lost to Mark Storm again.

The performances and the victories that Artemis gathered brought her to the dinner table. Winning the Ignition Championship gave her a seat there too. Now she kept looking at Viduus, hoping to see him one day choke on his hubris. Him announcing that he would put up his championship in Warzone was the beginning of his asphyxiation. Getting into Warzone would give her the chance to take the head chair at the end of the table, where she could reign.

Not if Mark Storm got in the fucking way again.

Artemis slammed her laptop shut, threatening to put a massive crack in the screen. It didn’t matter; she could buy another one when she won the 4CW Championship. Settling down for a moment let Artemis’ senses take note of the hysteria influencing them. Albeit, it was like two different processes, because Artemis’ attention fell on the belt she had thrown to the ground. The room was spinning, but Artemis kept stable enough to pick up the championship off the ground. In an empty house, where there wasn’t any love anymore, Artemis only had the feeling of gold and her body heat reflecting off it to keep her company.

It was okay that Salem was gone now. It was the best thing to happen to her in a long time, Artemis concluded, especially when she was given time to think about it. The bitch never loved Artemis anyways. When Artemis decided to take her career seriously, Salem got worried. She started talking about how Artemis couldn’t see anything else but what she wanted. Salem got upset when she realized that her love wasn’t the thing that Artemis needed. Only gold and glory was what satisfied Artemis at this point. The Ignition Championship was her only love right now, and hell, she was ready to cheat on it.

The 4CW Championship bitch was fuckin’ sexy.

⭗⭗⭗

“Mark Storm, before I hurt you the way I'm going to, I have to thank you for all you've done for me."

Endless figures stretched across a room, standing resolute and proud to just exist. In all black suits, they were uniform, but professional. They were all Mark Storm, circling around one another, leaving only a gap in the center. They all held hands, shifting around slowly in an eternal dance cycle. Humming the songs of their people, they looked like a giant shadow, a force that was unable to be understood and meant to be feared. The army that stood together was a force to behold, something that the Last Empress couldn’t defeat when she came to 4CW. Artemis’ voiceover provided an introduction, but only to her familiar tone, not her actual physical presence.

“When I came into 4CW, I was arrogant, thinking that it was going to be easier than I soon found it. That was all you, Storm. You’re the one that made me take time and think about myself. I had to readjust after losing my debut, thus you made me humble,” Artemis’ words came out sincere as she made her appearance into the center of the Ouroboros.

Clad in all white, she had one of her arms tucked behind her back, staring at the camera that hung above her head.  The other remained over the Ignition Championship, the prize she recently defended at Johnny Storm. Like James Shark before, the hero ran away after his defeat. Artemis was just too strong of a villain for Storm’s bullshit to overcome. The champion looked around the encompassing legion, seeing the immense amount of faces not looking anywhere. Her eyes narrowed, knowing that she was surrounded by an army of the only man to defeat her in 4CW. Yet, her gaze was devoid of the rage that customarily came with her. Instead, it was regret there.

“That humbleness only made hungrier than I could ever imagine.”

The cycle stopped its locomotion. They had not paid attention to the Ignition Champion in the middle of them. When they did, it was a unanimous decision, moving their gaze with the sounds of their feet pausing.

“That hunger became vicious, something that I could never quell. That’s when I started to making strides here in 4CW—from the moment you put me down. Count the wins and say the victim’s names. Genieve Carlson, James Shark, DeMarcus Gresham, Johnny Storm. You’re the only one who has gotten past me. But after that, why don’t people bring it up? Why has my career here drowned out the embarrassment?” Artemis smirked, “I blame you, Mark.”

“After I lost to you, I came after everyone and everything. When I said I wanted to do something, I made it happen. Someone that I wanted to beat? I beat them and I made it look beautiful. There’s not many that rivals my drive here in 4CW. For that reason, I stand here right now as the Ignition Champion and I’m on route to becoming the best champion ever. When you look at the rankings, you see me at the top of it. When people say my name, some people sing my praises. People bet on me. People believe in me. People know that I’m not a fluke, a flash in the pan, or a failure. I’m given a chance to get into the Warzone because everyone knows that I’m something to respect and something not to be taken lightly. My reputation precedes me, but I’m always doubting myself. Why is that, you may ask?”

Artemis’ expression hardened.

“It’s a simple answer that you already have.”

She let a beat pass, where she had to steady herself to speak the words.

“I lost to you.”

“You’re the only loss on my record and it bothers me to no end. As of late, though, I have realized something,” the smirk dropped in favor of a disappointed expression, “if I lost to you, why is it that people expect you to fall to me here? Why am I irritated so much that I have all of this even though you beat me cleanly in the middle of the ring?”

“It’s because you haven’t done anything with the win you took at my expense.”


Artemis snapped her fingers, like Thanos, and the first wave of Mark Storm’s figures fell to dust.

“You would say that you won the EVO World Championship, sure, but what about here?” Artemis dragged her foot against the ground, “what about the story of Mark Storm in 4CW? You defeated Artemis Kaiser, one of the best of her generation, one of the best today, why haven’t you done anything more beyond that? I can count your losses and say the winners’ names. Aidan Carlisle—” starting with her made Artemis chuckle madly under her breath, “Mariano Fernandez. Those are the last two remaining singles matches you’ve had here in 4CW before you decided it was time to let the Dogs of War infest this place.”

“You went and grabbed Andre Holmes and even then it’s the start and stop with you two. You win on Adrenaline, you lose at Bad Company, you beat Omerta, but lose to Salvation? Even with your new teammate in tow, you’re still on the 'one step forward and two steps back' mess,” the champion’s face contorted with a hint of disgust. She looked towards the Mark Storm wave, all standing there with that same plastic smile, “you beat me and you can’t make good on it? That’s frustrating. That’s disrespectful. You don’t beat me and end up being mediocre at best.”

“You don’t beat Artemis Kaiser and try to salvage a dying stable. You don’t beat Artemis Kaiser and wait to try to take her championship now. You don’t beat Artemis Kaiser and don’t know what the fuck you’re doing anymore. When you beat me, you go on to the top. You make a name for yourself. You do everything that I have done now in 4CW and you make sure the whole world knows it,”
Artemis motioned towards the screen, “but you? You don’t even talk about it. You don’t do anything, but throw yourself into another hopeless situation.”

“You’re not even being original with it. You’re following Andre’s example.”


“Andre’s going for the Pride Championship, so you think you can make your way over to try to take this?” Artemis lifted the Ignition Championship that rested on her shoulder. “You don’t realize that you’re coming for too much. The Dogs of War want the Tag Team Championships. Andre wants the Pride Championship. Mark wants the Ignition Championship. I’m starting to see that you even want to be in Warzone, trying to get the 4CW Championship. But when I say you’re coming for too much, I don’t mean what you want.”

“I don’t care what you want. This is about what I want and what you’re doing to get in the way of me getting it. You’re coming back to me to try to take everything away from me. You’re on the top of the world in some other place and you’re letting it influence you here. You’re letting that EVO Championship blind you to the success that I’ve had while you were busy squandering your chance to make yourself something great in 4CW. All while you don’t understand that I was waiting for the day that I can knock your ass out and take what I’m owed.”

“I lose to you and I haven’t lost since. When you beat me, it became my mission to prove that the loss wasn’t going to define me and I’ve been doing that pretty damn well with that. I took this championship. I took everything that I wanted—a piece of Genie’s ego, Shark’s legacy, DeMarcus’ mind, and Storm’s identity. They’re all mine now and I’m still hungry. That’s why I’m coming for Warzone. I’m coming for the 4CW Championship and that’s a good way to get there,”
the Last Empress paused.

She rested her hand over the plate of the Ignition Championship. “Most of all, I’m coming for this defense right here. Because I need to wipe this feeling off of me of losing to someone who can’t make good on momentum,” Artemis scoffed, obliterating another wave out of annoyance more than anything, “I gave you the world and you fumbled it.”

“That’s okay. It’s never happening again.”

“Lightning might have struck one, Mark, I get that. When the card went up for this week, it might have gotten you excited because you might be the one to stop this reign of mine. This climb of mine. That’s why you were put in front of me, to try to put an end to my streak before it really gets going. Things have changed a lot since the day I walked into the ring to face you. You may be the wall that I couldn’t get past the first time we faced, but that’s because I wasn’t tall enough.”

“Now, I’ve come back and I see you’re a rusty, broken gate with a few senile dogs in the yard. It’s a pathetic thing to witness. I didn’t know that this is what would become of you, Storm. After seeing that, my whole mindset on you changed. So, really, I’m not mad anymore that you didn’t do anything after you beat me.”


Artemis stared at her enemy surrounding her, the chain only brought misery to her. Seeing this charade go on made her stomach turn, so she got rid of them. The final wave fell to pieces around Artemis, fading into nothingness as Artemis remained alone.

"No, Storm, I’m fucking disappointed and I see the writing on the wall.”

Sullen in essence, Artemis started to head away from the premises.

“Come Adrenaline, I know you’re going to come in with a head full of steam. The biggest opportunity that you’ll ever have in 4CW is standing right in front of you. All you have to do is beat someone you did before. It’s simple, right?” Artemis’s mouth twinged with a sliver of humor, “but just like Bad Company. Just like your FGA career. You’re going to mess it up and go back to doing absolutely nothing with everything that has been handed to you.”

As Artemis reached the exit, she turned back to the camera for a second.

“So when I beat you this week, I’m going to need my win back. You don’t deserve it anymore.”

13
Adrenaline / No More Heroes
« on: September 23, 2018, 09:23:36 PM »

⭗⭗⭗

One defense in the books, the beginning of a beautiful title reign. Defeating the previous champion in the rematch meant that Artemis could move on. There was a legion of other contenders that would want their shot at her. The Ignition Championship was in Artemis’ eyes a gateway drug. Newcomers would seek it out to get their first taste of 4CW gold, one of the rarest kind in the game today. They would come running, but Artemis Kaiser would await them. And like a lioness defending her meal, she would go for anyone’s life that crept too close. Artemis hunted, planned, and killed her prey.

There was no one that would take it away from her now. Not until there were just morsels for the bottom feeders.

Artemis stayed in the ring when they handed her belt, but she abandoned it soon after. Why celebrate a win that she knew would disappoint her? Defending her championship was nice, but it was the matter of removing another name off the list of people she needed to defeat. DeMarcus had every ball in his court, outside of actually having the Ignition Championship. Alas, he tried a crossover move and has to live with the thought that Artemis snatched the ball away from him. Yet, Artemis couldn’t bear to appease the mental order to follow him.

So. She did.

She saw the state of his locker room after he had lost. As she rounded the corner, seeing his back being aided by the medical staff. Her eyes went wide with curiosity, peeling back the image that she made up of him. He was still intelligent, but she thought him as the person who could put a chink in her armor. DeMarcus was the blockade that Artemis would have to work hard to overcome. She did, in many respects, but she was ready to let go of the championship. It would give her an excuse to cut out another part of her humanity. Alas, it didn’t happen.

She gripped the King chess piece she had taken from his board when she won the Ignition Championship. Her fingers pressed so hard against the glass that it began to break. The amount of time of her holding the piece the way she did and the amount of fury inside her tiny body made it give way. Only suddenly to the medical staff around her, the piece broke in Artemis’ hand. The people carrying DeMarcus didn’t stop doing so, more focused on tending to his wounds and possible injuries. Meanwhile, Artemis stood in the center of the hallway, her eyes wide with fury. Her teeth bared, as she watched the person she put so much hope into disappear behind a curtain. He was at the mercy of the medical bay now, and not the valiant, wise warrior that Artemis managed to fell.

Disappointing.

“Ms. Kaiser?”

Fucking disappointing.

“Ms. Kaiser, can you hear me?”

SO FUCKING DISAPPOINTING!

“Ms. Kaiser, your hand is—”

“What do you fucking want?!” Artemis snarled at whatever was trying to get her attention.

When she did, she saw several looks of concern now laced with shreds of fear. Her reaction took a step back, transfiguring to confusion over anything. She did manage to hear the young man in front of her say something about her hand, which prompted her to look down. When she did, she saw what they were referring to. Dripping on the floor was her blood. Nothing major, but it was enough to paint a hefty line down her fingers and form a small puddle. She lifted her hand to her face, crafting the picture for herself. Breaking the piece had made the king piece dangerous and it punctured through her hand.  In Artemis’ temporary lapse of absence, she had pushed it into her palm, tearing flesh and letting the blood go free.

Without much care for herself nor the worried medical staff in front of her, she took the glass out. There was no point in letting it sit there. While Artemis did so, she noted that the man, Brett (his nametag said), flinched. A small twinge at the corner of her mouth was snuffed out in favor of letting him go unnoticed. She took his hand with her bloody one and placed the broken, stained piece into his care. Wrapping each finger around the piece, she played an idle game with herself until he was forced to accept her gift. Artemis then looked up at him and beamed.

“Thank you for that,” she said, a genuine tone to her words, “I guess I wasn’t paying attention.”

Brett told her that she might need stitches. Artemis could only think of how droll it was to have to follow him into the nearest little bay and wait for him to do his job. Of course, she would have to wait. Artemis believed if she listened hard enough, she can still hear Jeb’s screams. That is if he didn’t fall unconscious. She passively wondered if his arms were like noodles at this point.

While Artemis waited with her imagination, her focus drifted towards what it always did in the times of calmness. It was a habit wrought out of some obsessive tick in the recesses of her mind. Wrapped each finger into the fists she made, clenching them, feeling the coarseness and the callouses. On her right hand, the blood trickling down her wrist and onto her thigh made them smooth, like a lotion. Although, it was only a short amount of time before things began to feel different there. The blood served its original purpose until she found the second-by-second bits of pain from touching the wound.

It was still real, Artemis told herself.

With these hands, even the bloodstained one, Artemis had once again changed her reality. Before tonight, she was an unproven champion with only one person standing in her way of proving otherwise. With a single punch and an elbow, she was able to break down that barrier. Her mouth turned with the familiar feeling of disappointment, but she had to find the pride in the new state of her existence. After DeMarcus Gresham fell to her feet, beaten, unconscious—

“Tch,” Artemis bit her lip, the sharp pain of jabbing the wound with her nail interrupted her. She rose her Ignition Championship off the ground and onto her lap, giving the attention it deserved. She stroked it tenderly and left a trail of her blood there as a tribute to her victory that night. Artemis squinted, finding the best word to describe her former foe.

Obsolete.

Once again, she let the violent torrent of thoughts cloud her direct vision. Everything in HKW, everything between them in the tag team matches, the fact that he took everything from her? It was all nothing now. The thoughts burned to ashes and the wind blew it all way. Shark, Genie, DeMarcus, these were now statistics on a page. They were contributions to the rise of Artemis Kaiser in 4CW, but to what end do they serve to satisfy Artemis’ need for improvement? At the end of their matches, Artemis found out that they were not barriers, they were bumps in the road that wouldn’t impede her progression. The thought would plague her before, in a past life, but at the moment in the medical bay? It did nothing.

Artemis Kaiser had no rivals now and she was okay with not having any.

⭗⭗⭗

In the beginning, there was darkness, but the world became illuminated by way of lightning. As it filled the room for its temporary existence, the sight of a throne came forward. On it, the Ignition Champion and her prize sat with her head resting on her fist. A typically bored posture brought on by something not yet known. The only thing visible from the silhouette she cast was bright red eyes.

“Johnny Storm, Captain America, ha, I get the joke, but I’m not laughing. When I saw your name on the other end of my second title defense, I scoffed. It’s not your ability. No, it’s never that. 4CW is the land of talent; we all know that. So why I’m sitting here, disgusted that I have to fight you?”

“I hate superheroes.”

The feed met some static and white noise, transitioning to a room where there’s an artist. A young man putting to pen the newest issue of Captain America Johnny Storm, 4CW’s newest hero. He’s an American hero that punches nazis in the face and smiles for the camera. The artist knew in his heart of hearts that the crowd would love him. Johnny would push merchandise like Gwen Stacy off the Great Washington Bridge, making every businessman a pretty penny. Fuck the copyright infringement. It’s pro-wrestling, who really gave a damn?

“No, I’m not talking about Superman or Spiderman. I don’t have any issue with them. They’re the paragons that everyone wants to aspire to be. That’s what the comics were really made for. They were made to push patriotism and bolster the forces of America during World War II. It wasn’t uncommon to see Superman punching some dirty communist in the nose, and that tradition sticks around to this day,” her voice carried over, “if you aren’t down with that kind of propaganda, you should just call yourself a Nazi and get it over with.”

“Here in the real world, though, I can’t stand anyone who calls themselves a hero. There are assholes running around in the streets, trying to be crime fighters, and getting themselves fucked up in the process.”

“In wrestling, we got many people that are obsessed with being one. However, I’ve never seen someone so caught up in the act as you are, Johnny, and it makes me sick. Because it’s egotistical. All of you want people to love you and see you as an inspiration, just like the comic heroes you lust to be. You can’t, though. You can’t fly. You can’t shoot lasers out of your eyes. You can’t stop all the evils in the world from happening, no matter how hard you try.”

“Johnny, where were you when that helicopter crashed in New York? It wasn’t a bird. It wasn’t a plane. It wasn’t Superman. And it definitely wasn’t you. No, you were probably in your room with Uncle Sam, watching tapes and seeing how you could make your debut in 4CW.”

“Where were you at any point in time with that bullshit shield of yours when a sadistic person decided to shoot up a—oh, you have your pick, Johnny. You have a sidewalk in Toronto, right where I live. You have schools of every variety! You have a fucking Waffle House, for Gods’ sake! You weren’t there faster than any of those speeding bullets to block those, huh?”

“I know you weren’t because you’re busy trying your best to find a way to beat me.”


The artist drew Johnny Storm punching the oh-so-evil Artemis Kaiser, who was dressed in Nazi regalia because she was German. He thought it was a fantastic idea, because what better way to win the fans over than to lie about your upcoming opponent? The artist snickered as they turned the page to start their process again.

“While you’re putting on your boots and your mask to go wrestle, there are people out there being a better hero than you could ever dream of being. In the meantime, you sit in front of a camera, trying to convince the world you can not only survive me but beat me?”

“I’m not Lord Raab. I’m not a roadblock.”

“I’m not Caden Walker. I’m not some broken idiot.”

“I’m not Bryan Williams either, but he and I have one thing in common.”

“Both of us will never respect you.”


While the artist scurried to make an ending for his comic, he failed to notice the eerily shadows on the wall. There were red eyes stalking the windows, scanning each corner of his room. His focus became his kryptonite, but he wouldn’t know that. The story of Captain America Johnny Storm defeating Artemis Kaiser and gaining the precious Ignition Championship was more important than his safety. A pity, for the audience, knew what his fate was forming to be.

“I won’t respect you because I know damn well that you don’t respect yourself. You let yourself play out your childhood dream that your ma and pa probably never let you. Your sister is out here enabling you because she can’t bear to see her broken American Hero of a brother suffer. For that, I have to pay her a service and put your ass down like the sick, stupid soldier you are.”

“Look at the flowers, Johnny.”


In the artist’s world, Captain America Johnny Storm and his sidekick, Uncle Sam, were the most famous duo to ever exist. More than the Carlsons, more than Omerta, and even more than the Dogs of War! Together, they could beat anyone, including Artemis Kaiser.

“Every time I think of your stupid face, your catchphrases, and this makeshift ego of yours, I get excited about our match. But it’s for all the wrong reasons. You disrespect all those who do what they can to help others.”

“We have people doing all they can to save lives out there the places afflicted by Florence. We have people saving children. We have soldiers, trying to bring peace, instead of death and destruction. They don’t need to be called a hero. They’re not so vain as you to want the adoration of the public. The real heroes know what they need to do and just do it, regardless of the rewards or the consequences.”

“But you?”
a beat, “you, Johnny? I bet you don’t even think about donating a dollar to charity when the cashier asks if you can.”

“For your benefit, I’m going to say some of the names of the heroes out there. Give you some reference, maybe some inspiration to follow.”

“James Shaw Jr. He’s a man who stopped that shooting in Nashville, saving lives at that Waffle House that could have been easily lost. I say his name as a representation of the many people who are willing to put themselves in the line of fire to save people from the menace of a corrupt, mad individual.”

“Tony Alsup. He’s an angel in disguise, saving dogs and cats that people were going to abandon out there when Florence coming. Not just the cute ones, but all the animals that people wouldn’t want. He’s one, but there were many people out there doing that and as much more as they humanely could—without superpowers or stupid costumes.”

“This one is really up your alley. I got a real Marvel hero for you, Johnny. Mamoudou Gassama. Le Spider-Man? Yeah, that’s a real-life superhero. All of the people I mentioned by name and all those that I can’t? Yeah, those are people that I can call heroes. But here in 4CW? There’s no such thing. There are no heroes.”


The artist was on their final page. It was a final clash between his hero and the evil Kaiser. Uncle Sam rallied on, hoping that her words could inspire Johnny to pull out the victory. Strangely enough, the artist glanced at his copy of “Captain America vs. Red Skull” on his other monitor. Could he be stealing artwork? Gasp! How appalling! Johnny Storm would never approve of that!

“But I can tell you, Johnny. I sure as hell can be a supervillain if you want me to be.”

The artist heard a door break down. As he turned his head towards the door, the commanding footsteps that haunted his nightmares drew closer. Before he could scramble his precious work together or even before the thought of escape was possible, a hand came out for him. It wasn’t long before the artist fell to the ground with his hand bouncing off the floor. His trusty pen, his weapon to forge lies, rolled out onto the floor, followed by his blood. The shadowy figure took the comic book, taking a glance at it before fading away into the darkness.

“The difference between me and all the supervillains that you see in those comics you say don’t exist? I’m real. I’m right here in front of your face, ready to fix this identity crisis you got going on. You might not be able to understand that, because you’re not real yourself. It doesn’t matter. One way or the other, you’re going to catch the beating waiting on you. It’s not going to be pretty. It’s going to be like something out of a Spawn comic. So brutal, so fucked up that they might not want to print it.”

“Oh, don’t worry about your sister either. Uncle Sam can take a breather after this match, knowing that her brother is going to get the treatment he needs. She can stop playing babysitter to the little brother that can’t grow the fuck up. Unfortunately, it’s going to be a man-made coma that’s going to clear this problem up for her.”

“Johnny Storm, you’re not Captain America. You’re not even a ripoff. You’re just another man, trying their best to be something they’re not. Meanwhile, I’m everything that you wish you could beat. I have the gold you want to validate this little psychotic episode that you call your life.”

“You might this match to have a happy ending, I know—”


Static took back over the feed until it was back to the darkroom that Artemis was in. Lightning brightened everything once again, but it led to her image being fully revealed. Like Dr. Doom, she sat on her throne with her championship around her waist. She was reading the comic that the artist couldn’t finish, but she had somehow reached the end. Bored and done with it, she threw it onto the floor for the camera to see.

At the end, despite his valiant efforts, Captain America Johnny Storm was murdered by the real Artemis Kaiser, not the Nazi caricature that the artist tried to make.

“But there are no happy endings for the likes of you.”

14
Adrenaline / Biohazard
« on: September 09, 2018, 06:41:01 PM »

⭗⭗⭗

“As long as I get to the king, it doesn’t matter.”

Sitting on a production crate with the Ignition Championship in her hands, Artemis looked out to nothing at all, trying to focus in on the events of the night. Omerta would be the ones who take the spotlight, winning one of the biggest events in wrestling, Bad Company, but people would glance at Artemis. Four matches and she was a champion, nothing too impressive, but something that people would see as her establishment as a viable threat in the company. However, she couldn’t shake the feeling of dissatisfaction. She wanted to face DeMarcus alone, eliminating the rest of them, but David Sanchez proved to be too tough and outlasted the champion.

“Tch,” she vocalized her frustration and gripped the championship, “I wanted him for myself.”

It was a petty gripe, she understood, but it was her driving motivation of entering the battle royal. She cursed Sanchez’s name under her breath, but finally looked at the championship in her grasp. It was hers now, putting a stop to the hearty reign that DeMarcus was making for himself. Some people would be soured on the notion, but she didn’t care. For a moment, she let the iota of pride stir her emotions, where she knew that she could say that she was one of the best on the roster. No one would argue it, and if they did, they were welcome to come to her doorstep and try.

Maybe that faulty Nemesis could try.

Finn could give it a shot too. There’s a new champion for him to test his mettle against.

David Sanchez had a clear lane for contendership.

Artemis gritted her teeth upon the next person coming into her head. Bronx Valescence never answered her call, which infuriated her somewhat, but she shook the thoughts away. There was no point crying over the matter since it was only a matter of time before she would make her rise to him. Her fangs would reach his jugular before he knew it and the whole world would not be able to deny her anymore.

She snickered.

An interesting reaction to the realization of her new status in 4CW. It wasn’t bred in the same pride she felt ago. If anything, it felt like vindication. Her failure at the beginning of her career would be brought up one day, but for now, it was an afterthought. Nay, another feeling overpowered that vindication as she concluded that she was absolutely right. When she spoke to DeMarcus, there wasn’t a shadow of doubt in her head that she would win. The reasoning for the thought to flood her mind was because of the sacrifices she made along the way. As she looked at her golden reflection, she knew she had done the right thing.

The day that she decided that the whole respect part of her, that shred of humanity, needed to go was the day that she would elevate herself again. She would always make the effort to draw herself closer to that cerebral edge that many can’t approach—the same one that people like Bryan Laughlin, Viduus Morta, and Dakota Smith threw themselves off. Unlike them, she did numerous times, climbing up the mental mountain to plunge into the abyss below. Each time she climbed out of Hell, she came out more dangerous than before. It was always an omen for everyone when she did. The forced metamorphosis of a dying star into a brilliant supernova meant that the world of wrestling would soon burn.

The snickering became a drawn-out cackle, the scratchy sound of Artemis’ sadism meeting her successes. It was why she could sit on the production crate with a championship. Many people try to become a champion in 4CW, as she has heard throughout her time in the company, but many people would fail to ever catch a whiff of that success. For Artemis to be able to achieve that was because she had what it takes to rip whatever weak part that was in her to kickstart that change. It meant that the world was weak around her.

It meant that Artemis Kaiser was strong and wasn’t going to stop improving. The rhapsody of thoughts inside of her head told the young woman a brilliant future, where she would stand on top of a mountain of damaged bodies and broken dreams as a World Champion. No more denying, no more roadblocks. All she would have to do is to continue to tear the humanity out of herself.

Artemis reached to her face, taking what was left of the red mark she painted across her nose. The crimson paint was the representation of the blood she sheds to make herself great. She wiped it across the championship belt with a gleeful expression. Defilement is what many would call the gesture, but she would deem it necessary. This was the first thing she had won since her recent change. It was more important to her than many other championships she had won since the Ignition Championship was the symbol of her plight.

“Mine. All mine,” Artemis murmured, taking the championship to her chest, letting the gold feel her heartbeat, “I can’t wait to add you to the collection.”

Artemis wandered down the hallway in search of a familiar place. DeMarcus’ locker room, she thought, as she stumbled around corners. Her shoulder met the wall as she couldn’t catch her breath. Excitement, enthusiasm, euphoria. She felt it all in a cocktail, intoxicating her and impeding her movement. When she found the open door, her grin widened. Entering the room, she noted that he had not returned. He either went home already or went into his own hysteria after losing the match. Everyone saw it when he couldn’t beat Finn the first time. Artemis fell to the ground, knees first, before she pawed around, taking up the chess pieces that were still there.

Her hand grabbed hold of what she sought out. Further elation collected in her chest as she picked up the King piece that represented DeMarcus. Fingers wrapped around it until it was in her crushing grip. If it was of any lesser material, it could have snapped. Artemis looked at the ruined chess board, the tool for DeMarcus’ preparation, and she laughed. She laughed louder than she has ever done before. People could hear it all around the backstage area.

The new Ignition Champion fell on her back, lost in her glee. Everything had worked in her favor. Her plan had come to fruition. It was a beautiful event to witness. She was feeling like herself again, a dangerous entity that people were forced to respect. As she rolled on the ground, not trying to hold her now maniacal cackling, she knew one thing for certain.

There were more pieces of her terrible humanity to tear out, and she couldn’t wait to see the results.

⭗⭗⭗

“To say that I was disappointed with Bad Company would sound contrarian.”

The Ignition Championship was the focal point of the opening shot, more notably the nameplate that bore the name of its current holder, Artemis Kaiser. Her voice laid over the narrowing visual, where it was revealed the holder of the championship was not the champion herself, but DeMarcus Gresham. He was frozen in time with the stoic look that he always bore. He still looked like the champion of many federations, but there was something amiss about his figure. The room wasn’t well-lit, excluding whatever lighting fixture focused on the arriving champion.

“I walked into the match and won my first championship in 4CW. The first of many, no matter what anyone will think. Regardless of the lack of a Grand Slam definition, I plan to become just that. I will make the definition and stand as the one and only. It just sucks that we must deliberate so hard on something that already has a meaning. Silly, silly,” she shook her head, “that being said, that’s not where the disappointment comes from. It came from the fact that I didn’t get my one-on-one match with DeMarcus Gresham like I proclaimed. I won, I took out every contender, and I got to walk out 15 pounds heavier, but it left a void in my stomach.”

“But the powers that be, if it’s Boston or Bryan, I don’t care, but I got my wish. It’s clear that the tradition is the former champion gets a rematch and this rematch will be one of the best matches in 4CW history. Years of history will come to a head, a rivalry that has existed before either DeMarcus or myself even thought about coming here. I’m happy that this is the way that it will come to an end. It’s not as bloody as some blood feuds. It’s not personal, really, but it’s important. It’s a piece of our careers that we can never let go, where we got to fight each other as equals in such complex circumstances. We were in tag teams fighting one another. We had this battle royal. So, for this to be our first one-on-one affair is something marvelous, even exciting.”

“However, there’s a grave reality waiting to come into existence.”


Artemis fondly touched upon DeMarcus’ face, leading to a lack of reaction. A tender expression crossed Artemis’ face, contrasting against the bountiful scars that came from every bloody war she participated in.

“DeMarcus, you realize that this match can potentially destroy everything you had ever worked for. If I beat you here, then that’s it. You won’t get the chance to come for this championship again and you must move onto greener pastures. Artemis Kaiser will be better than the Enlightened One and that’s not a reality you’re willing to exist in. What does that do for you, DeMarcus? That information that I know that you’ve thought about. How does it feel having to contend with the thought that I will expel you from being able to hold again the golden representation of your evolution? Because losing in that battle royal doesn’t look that bad on paper, but it has already done enough damage for me to beat you this week and defend this new championship that I got sitting pretty.”

“The anxiety of facing me and falling to me is what will kill you before I even lay a hand on you,” Artemis spoke in a raspy whisper.

“Everyone saw you the last time that you lost when Finn took away that precious stability of yours. For a long time, people thought you were infallible in your mental capacity. You would always have a witty retort and a calculated counter to everything that threatened your reputation. But the day that you lost to Finn Whelan? You unraveled, like a ball of yarn. How could that have been? In the years that I’ve witnessed you, DeMarcus, I have never seen anything like that out of you. You were a shell of your former self.”

She paused. “But why?”

“It’s because your life is made up of little perfections until they became everything you lived for.”

“When you’re as skilled as you are, as intelligent as you are, you don’t need to contemplate any other path. You know what you can do and any failure should have been able to wash off you. Or even better, each time you stumbled, you could channel that to make you better. You had us all fooled with the veil of perfection that you carried for so long,” Artemis’ eyes narrowed with the essence of enchantment, “even I was captivated by it.”

“Now I’m almost disgusted by the fact. How is it that you could be so human? I thought of you as my equal, as a God among men. I believe in that Enlightened bullshit that you spewed for so long only to see you fall and barely get yourself back up. Thank the Gods that you were able to take back this championship or else, I think you would have ended up like every other miserable, ‘all-star’ sod in wrestling today.”

“Those bastards lose the big one, they don’t know how to adapt, and then they ‘retire’ because of the fact that they may not be as good as they think they were,” Artemis’ serenity fell to the subdued anger she bore, “I hate to believe that you’re one of them, DeMarcus, but here we are, waiting to see what you will do.”

“You said that it takes more than one. You have taken your defeat in stride, but I’m sitting here waiting to see what you’ll do. I want to know if you realize that I’m more than one person. I’m not just a woman. I’m not just the Ignition Champion. I’m the Blitzkrieg, the Mongols, and the US army! I'm more than just one person! The battle royal was the safest place you could be! Because when you stand on the other side of me, you know that I’ve been waiting for this moment. I have no hate against you, DeMarcus, but you know that I have to come at you with every degree of malice that I have coursing through my veins.”

Artemis reached over to retrieve the Ignition Championship off DeMarcus’ shoulder. As she put in on her shoulder, the lights in the room began to operate at full capacity, revealing the full scope of the environment. Inside of the factory-esque structure, there were lines of people. With DeMarcus Gresham at the end of the line, it appeared that there was every opponent that Artemis had defeated in sequential order. Artemis looked at DeMarcus for a moment before she rubbed something off his now bare shoulder. When she did, a crack appeared, and Artemis sighed.

They were statues. From James Shark all the way back to her first opponent, Helen Hirano, they were preserved in history. Some of them had championship belts on them, akin to DeMarcus’, all with Artemis’ nameplates on them. However, her focus remained on the now damaged statue of DeMarcus Gresham. Each time she touched, it cracked more. The damage traversed throughout the entire piece until his head began to cave in on itself. Artemis looked on with a neutral expression until nothing remained of what she was focusing upon.

“You’re not one to crumble under pressure,” she said, reflecting on the destruction of the statue. She stepped in its remains, further destroying what was left. “I know that of you. You’re one to rise to your challenges. You would love for a repeat of your victory over Finn to happen with me, but it’s not possible now. I’ve watched you at your worst. I have seen you climb to your best from that place. Now I’m looking to make this loss the worst thing you have ever experienced.”

“In the world of wrestling, people value their equals. You are a rival that has pushed me to greater heights, I admit that. However, I’m not willing to let you continue to exist in my world. Any fool that will let that happen deserves to lose everything. I will dispose of my foes when they’re done making me better,” a hint of sadness etched onto her face as she looked down into the debris, “it’s time for you to go, DeMarcus.”

“So, I will craft this loss into a disease, a man-made cancer. It will eat you up inside, rotting away all that strength and might that have brought you to the dance. I will make your life terminal, as you struggle to find the answer to the question that you can never answer, even with all that intelligence you have. You may even look to me as the cure, but I’m something you can never have and something you may never overcome. I’m the end of your Enlightenment, DeMarcus Gresham.”

Artemis lowered to the floor, collecting some of the grounded stone in her hand. Once she had enough, she let it free into the air, watching it scatter throughout with a faint smile.

“As they say, DeMarcus…”

The Ignition Champion stood up towards the camera.

“It’s been real.”

15
Bad Company IV / A Mean Ass Grudge [Ignition Championship BR]
« on: August 26, 2018, 06:37:17 PM »

⭗⭗⭗

Artemis Kaiser couldn't stop looking at sitting at the top of the rankings board. In her respective division, she was the top. At the moment, she was above even Elijah Carlson. It was satisfying to see a statistical representation of her success. Her name hadn't moved from that spot in the last few weeks, which gave her want to call herself dominant. She stopped herself, knowing that Four Corners Wrestling was a temperamental beast that morphed with each going cycle. New people would arrive, challenging the structure of the company. Yet, a miracle could happen in 4CW, where a wrestler who didn't have any direction would spark oil and light ablaze their career. There was never really a reason why someone would fall to the wayside in 4CW. Hard work paid off because it was the nature of the competition. Artemis believed herself to be the only beast around, always hungry, always searching for another meal. Presently, her peers consisted of those who bore the same hunger and they would do anything to satisfy it. For her name to be at the top of the list meant that Artemis was among the most powerful at the time. However, it led to her feeling a target being painted on her back. People would come for her rank and all she was. Stagnation wasn't an option, Artemis knew, but she felt that she was making progress. She was becoming better.

For a short while, she believed that she was on the downward slope, heading into a pit of monotony that she had always feared. To not progress is to die in Artemis' mind. She died once before, which led to her making her exodus away from Hard Knox Wrestling. Lost without any motivation to keep her going, she heard the thought of retirement looming over her. Many young wrestlers retire--no, they run away from professional wrestling. They think that they're done with it, and many of them come back within a few months. For Artemis, she always attested retirement to the end of her life. If she was to retire, then it was because there was nothing left. The career apocalypse, as she would dub it in the recesses of her mind. The question of if she had the talent and drive to reach the world championship level would always present itself. It was her undying reason for wrestling, hell, for existing.

James Shark.

A smirk drew on Artemis' face when she thought about how she rocked him and then embarrassed him. She bobbed and weaved around James Shark like he was a rookie and put him down. To many, they would say that she defeated a shell of an all-time great, but she would disagree. If he had been training and working to turn back the clock, then she merely was a step ahead of him. Furthermore, her smile comes from knowing that she had avenged her younger brother's and her godmother's defeat by them. Ryan and Peyton should be thanking her, but she knows that it will never come. They're far too stubborn to say that she has eclipsed them both in every way possible. Defeating Shark was just the exclamation point. With a personal vendetta out of the way, Artemis couldn't help but feel the emptiness on her shoulder.

Bronx was too preoccupied with Bad Company and seemed to have ignored her call. Artemis scanned the video footage, where she essentially challenged him directly. She narrowed in her eyes, feeling a moment of agitation take hold of her. When it passed, it did with a sigh from the young woman. What could she do? Bronx wanted to follow his dream of being a successful tag team wrestler. Artemis might have been a worthy candidate. Most people fail to remember that she has won a fair amount of tag team gold and held them longer than anyone else have in their respective company. Then again, it always came with the notion that Artemis would execute anyone who failed her. Artemis tapped on her chin as she closed out the episode, but not before it landed on a familiar face.

On the same episode where Artemis defeated Shark, another vendetta was properly settled.

"THE ENLIGHTENMENT! THE COVER!"

ONE! TWO! THREE!


DeMarcus Gresham.

The newly crowned Ignition Champion had finally tapped into that true potential of his. If people aren't careful, DeMarcus can take the World Championship. He's the complete package in many cases. He's handsome, charismatic, different from the norm, and has a striking intelligence for professional wrestling that would make anyone nervous. Here he stood now at the peak of his 4CW career, already a champion and getting noticed.

The corner of Artemis' mouth tugged at seeing him hold the Ignition Championship high in the air. Artemis Kaiser didn't have many rivals in wrestling. Enemies, sure, but there were hardly any that could stand as her equal and test her in ways many can't. DeMarcus Gresham was one of the few. Meeting in HKW, DeMarcus was the bane of Artemis' existence as he commanded a tag team that was dead set on ruining everything that Artemis made for Sine Mora, her tag team. They would argue on the philosophy of wrestling and what it meant to be a champion before Artemis made good on stopping his ascension to being a tag team champion. Though they had partners in their corner, the two of them had their hands around the other's neck. It didn't matter if it was the tag team championships or if it was for some other championship, they were set to clash at some point.

DeMarcus eventually got the upper hand and snatched away the tag team championship on defense number five. What made the loss frustrating was Artemis' partner. Scarlet Flint stumbled and led to their downfall, right when a new opportunity appeared in the final hours of their championship reign. If Scarlet and Artemis were to defend their championship that fifth and final time, then they could go on to challenge for whichever World Championship that they desired. One big step remained for Artemis to realize her dream and DeMarcus Gresham was the righteous hand of fate that sent her back down to Earth.

Respect came into their relationship, where they understood that they both were a part of an important war. They had a win over one another and they couldn't get the chance to see which of them were better in singles competition. However, Artemis had a part of her that existed alongside the violent and dangerous mentality. While her brown eyes laid upon the screen in front of her, staring at DeMarcus' proud moment, she felt that part of her rise forward. It left a whisper in her ear that made the grin soak with a frenetic want.

"Why don't you ruin his reign like he ruined yours?"

At Bad Company, in the chaos of finding out which team will win and prove themselves to be at the top of that mountain, DeMarcus Gresham must stand against a flood of contenders. Usually, he would be able to weather the match and come out on top. Each match that he had leading up to this defense was made to prepare him. He went from a singles match, where he ended the dreams of Finn Whelan, effectively winning their series of wars. Just prior to Bad Company, he came out of a triple threat on top, after defeating two of the hungriest younger stars in 4CW. Magdalena and Jay would come back, Artemis knew this, but if they did, they would be dealt with.

It may be a battle royal and there may be a lot of people. DeMarcus is valiant and ready to go home to his precious family still a champion. Every contender will think that it's their time to shine. The competition in 4CW is stiff and they know how important this opportunity was. But none of them can say that they're Artemis Kaiser, and she will make this battle royal a one-on-one match.

If they like it or not.

⭗⭗⭗

A ring laid barren inside an arena with no people, or at it was initially. The solitary footsteps made by boots echoed throughout the space until the culprit entered the camera frame. Artemis Kaiser made her way inside with a steel chair in one hand and stood in the center of it. She opened the chair and sat down without a word nor an expression. Remaining quiet, the atmosphere settled, where the young wrestler was surrounded by the emptiness and the expansiveness of the arena. It would be filled to the brim come Bad Company with fans and wrestlers alike. Artemis rested her hands on her lap, taking a breath.

"These kind of matches are poison if you ask me."

Slowly, it appeared as if Artemis faded away from the ring. Instead, DeMarcus Gresham, or some image of him, stood there, holding the Ignition Championship close to himself. Perhaps it was taken from one of his title defenses or a graphical recreation for Artemis' material. In any case, he stood there, both resolute and paranoid, holding what he fought so hard for in his hand. A small reflection of the man that came after Finn Whelan, disturbed and erratic, but still the dangerous man who would win the match later on. He looked around himself, seeing people start to appear from the corners like phantoms haunting his brilliant mind.

"The champion enters this match as the sole target of everyone. The competitors want to eliminate him to make the opportunity for themselves to be the next champion. The fans are looking to see if he's made of something stronger than what he was previously. Even his reflection is questioning if he has what it takes to survive such an experience. In this instance, the match is much more unpredictable, something that Gresham despises."

Artemis' voiceover paused for a moment as DeMarcus began to fend for himself. His strength, one of his most known attributes, provided him the ability to hurl the first wrestler out of the ring. When they hit the outside mat, they faded away as if they were never there.

"He doesn't know if it's just two people or thirty people."

DeMarcus received a blow to the back by an assailant. He cried out in pain, but roared back in fury, throwing the person out.

"He has never experienced anything like this, so there's no backup data in his mind that he can rely on. Everything is based on instinct alone. DeMarcus Gresham has a killer instinct and he has proven as such. He won't just survive this match. No, DeMarcus will show everyone how great a champion he's striving to be. He'll dominate and overcome the challenges that this match forces upon him."

A beat.

"That is if I wasn't in the match."

As DeMarcus stands in the center of the ring, thinking he has defeated the last of his foes, another phantom appeared. As he turned, the phantom jolted out and collided their elbow into his jaw, nearly shattering it upon impact. As DeMarcus slumped over, trying his hardest to maintain his balance, the phantom slowly became a familiar person. Artemis Kaiser stood there in the phantom's place and promptly threw the Ignition Champion out.

"My decision to participate in this match threw a parameter into every single plan that DeMarcus may have conjured up. I'm the worst possible factor in his equation. Everyone that came at DeMarcus so far has fallen. If they didn't at first, then they surely did by the time that DeMarcus fully understood what made them tick. Unfortunately, he doesn't have that on me. He never has."

"The story of Artemis Kaiser and DeMarcus Gresham is a long one that only matters to him and I, but it serves as my motivation to ruining everything that he has worked for. For it is my time to stand as a champion here in 4CW and it will come at his expense," a low giggle interrupted her words, "I can't say that I'm against the dramatics. So I'll have to make sure that this match fits what I want. No matter who walks into this match, I stand as the exclusive threat to his reign."

"And somewhere in his mind, he knows that."

"Time has told the tale of how I've matched his step and gained his respect, for he knows what I'm capable of. People in 4CW is starting to see how dangerous I am and how I operate. Now it's time to show everyone the stranglehold that I can have a championship if I am to win one. And even with this type of match looming over my head, I will show everyone that this match was never meant to be a battle royal. It was meant to be another chapter in the rivalry that I have with the Ignition Champion."

"As such, it's my job to reconstruct this match. My message to anyone who wants to has already jumped into this match is simple."

"Don't show up."


Artemis' phantom started to work through the battle royal, where she would harm any person who got too close. It wasn't simply for the purpose of being able to eliminate them. It was obvious that her mannerisms were based on the want to make sure no one got out in one piece. People limped away from the outside mat; others remained there motionless. Meanwhile, a maniacal cackle ripped from the vocal cords of the diminutive monster in the center of the ring.

"There will be people coming in to try to capitalize on a chance, thinking that everything will line up for them. When they get down to the ring, they'll see me, waiting for them to get in the way of taking what I have fought hard for. Many people see my name on the top of that division board. It does not matter how many people show up to try to stop me. My wants overweigh the needs of the many. Everyone who bothers not to heed my warning have doomed themselves from the start."

"To make my desire a reality, I will have to make sure no one can run interference if I eliminate them. I have to make sure that coming down to the ring becomes a risk."

"I need to make this match a 'high risk, no reward' kind of event."


Around Artemis, the images of the fallen Jay Mora and Magdalena Lockhart appeared.

"I don't need contenders who failed to try to make good on their second or third chance."

In the corner, the defeated Finn Whelan laid unconscious.

"I don't need ex-champions trying to reclaim a championship far out of their reach."

The scene transitioned to Artemis standing on the other side of DeMarcus.

"I want to look DeMarcus in the eyes when I go to take everything from him," her words were solemn, "he ruined my dream of becoming a world champion in the past. I have no ill will towards him beyond that, but I need to pay him back for what he did. He understands that. He knew this day would come."

"While reveling in the fanfare of his accomplishment and his victory, he failed to see me waiting for the opportunity to present itself. If this match is a flood, then I'm the shark in the water. I'm the lion stalking its confident prey. While DeMarcus sees the match and readies himself for everything that comes, he fails to prepare himself for the most important thing."

"DeMarcus Gresham, you had this coming for you. I could have ruled the world if it wasn't for you. You stole my dream away from me and now it's a year later. You think just because we're in 4CW that I hadn't forgotten what you did."

Artemis reappeared in the center of the ring, back in the chair. She stood up, looking out towards the entranceway for a moment. When her eyes returned, she had them narrowed.

"And man, do I hold a mean ass grudge."

16
Adrenaline / The Story of JFRESH
« on: July 30, 2018, 01:01:31 AM »
The critics were silenced by the sound of the last hand falling against the canvas. In three seconds, Artemis turned her whole career in 4CW back in the right direction with a victory over Genie Carlson, ruining her comeback and making good on her words to silence the egotistical bitch. Yet, they lined up another person for Artemis to fight, not giving her any reprieve. She wouldn’t want it any other way. Artemis always chomped at the bit, hungry for the next time she could fight. In this case, the hunger didn’t come from the battle that was going to happen, it came from the prey that laid before her.

James Shark.

If 4CW could produce a vainer person for Artemis to thrash, it would be him. Any person who would call themselves “Nigger Almighty” had to not only be proud of their heritage but so caught up in their hype that they failed to see the silliness of that name. Artemis heard the tales of the Great Black Shark and his exploits through his career. Her brother had his first match ever against him and got his ass beat, so there was vengeance in place there.

Ryan LeCavalier, her mentor, got knocked out by him in MLC. So, she couldn’t go to her for advice on how to defeat him. She would have to find her way by herself. A victory over Genie was important, but Shark had defeated Kimitsu Zombie, giving him the slight edge in momentum. In the rankings, Artemis was in first place and Shark wouldn’t like that to last.

He was too egotistical for that.

As Artemis settled on the plane, checking some of her wounds from her prior matches throughout the country, she knew that they weren’t going to get in the way. She needed to be one hundred percent going into this match. She made sure of that before getting on the plane. Reaching into her bag, she pulled out a small notebook, where the plan for her ascension in 4CW was drawn out.

How would Perry feel about Artemis Kaiser vs. Bronx Valescence?

She pictured him taking it into account, but he would want Artemis to spice the deal with more flavor. Her name was good enough to bring the match to reality, but it wouldn’t be enough for the 4CW audience to sell out a building strictly for it. Artemis wasn’t a business-minded person most of the time. Her bloodlust usually overpowered those thoughts, but in 4CW, she had to play a different game. Now, it was a matter of lining up everything, a red carpet, for Bronx.

When he comes back, Artemis wants him to choose her, not Ana, Eli, Viduus, or anybody else, she wanted him to come fight her. The best way to stake her claim to the 4CW Championship is to beat the person that rivals Anastasia Hayden.

He was everywhere but 4CW. He was taking a break as it were, but he wasn’t gone from wrestling. Not being a ghost gave Artemis some ideas. Usually, she would have to go find someone and beat them down for them to notice and answer her request for fights. However, 4CW operated a bit differently. They were honest in their execution and it was refreshing. As Artemis sat down, checking over her notes on how to go about the business elements of this match, she realized that all she needed was a message.

She needed to submit a request to fight one of 4CW’s best.

It didn’t have to be anything complex.

Artemis took out a pen and wrote on a loose-leaf page.

“Call me, Bronxy.”

She almost added a wink face, but that would bring up some kind of rumor.

Once she was done with that, she put the notebook away. It was a long time away to be obsessing over how to make this match one of the best in 4CW’s history. She needed to rack up wins. Shark would be quite the victory in her mind, but it would have been the second on the path to many more. Before she came to 4CW, she never bothered with doing research. In this case of her upcoming opponent, she didn’t really have to. In HKW, she fought alongside James Shark before, saw his work in person, and she never forgot it. Strategically, she was ready for him physically. It was a matter of attacking a part of James that many didn’t.

People would get personal, but no one would delve into the mental state of James Shark.

Or rather, Quinton Marshall, the real man masquerading as James Shark. What exactly made him who he was? The details were out there, and he wasn’t hiding them, but everyone hid something about themselves. Targeting that part of him might draw out some weakness that he never knew he had. It took a certain level of hostility for that to happen, but Artemis remembered the way he treated her godmother, Ryan, deriding her relationship and her choices in life. For that, Artemis couldn’t hold back.

There was no respect for a fool like him.

It was almost ironic, Artemis recalled, while looking at a picture of James Shark with his MLC World Championship.

She never had Shark Fin Soup before.

⏣⏣⏣


“Good evening, everyone, let me tell you the story of JFRESH.”

“JFRESH started out in the slums of Brooklyn, which has seen better days than it did back when JFRESH was growing up. When he was born, his life had already a timer on it, for when his father would step out. As he did, that’s when everyone knew that the story of JFRESH would not be a happy one, at least not for the first few chapters. The prologue leads us into his life with his mother, chronicled by used needles and bad bruises, where JFRESH had to pay attention to how the world worked around him. JFRESH’s home life was never fine, never safe, and until the day he had to run away was the day that everything changed.”

“With his mother dead in the house, JFRESH ran into a new world to escape the clutches of a broken life. No family was good enough to hold him down as he rampaged around, screaming for attention that he could never afford. With no daddy and no momma to nurture him, JFRESH let the streets take care of him. They became his new home and he grew to defend what was his. Fight after fight, JFRESH didn’t notice the world growing less concerned with his existence. He was becoming another statistic, another sob story that no longer had any sympathy to rely on.”


A video began to play, a showing of some of Quinton Marshall’s (or a dramatization played by some good actors) initial street fights. In them, he was nameless, where he was just another victim.

“JFRESH was just another victim of someone else’s spotlight. That’s something that he’ll come to find out more about doing our match when I beat his ass into obscurity. The spotlight is mine and he will never take it from me.”

His footwork was sloppy, but he managed to hold his own for a moment. It was until he got cracked upside the head with a right hook. He stumbled back, threw out a few hysterical shots, but they did nothing to stop the beating coming his way. Quinton was sent to the floor, his body limp without no guard. The attack didn’t stop even when people started to try his opponent away. When it did, Quinton became an afterthought in the camera frame. The roaring man, raising his blood-drenched fists, was the focus. The camera frame stopped and panned down to the maimed Quinton Marshall. The image paused there, remaining on him as Artemis spoke again.

“As JFRESH continued to get his face rearranged by bigger and badder fighters, a fire began to spark inside of him. He was starting to realize his destiny and turned his losses into victories. Getting stronger upon each loss, like how he would do after getting embarrassed by Cosmo Cooper and DeMarcus Gresham for the second time. Those defeats would be what led him to put down Kimitsu Zombie. That’s what he did in the streets, after drinking enough of his blood, after swallowing enough of his teeth, he got better.”

“Those same people who took advantage of a young lost boy found themselves on the receiving end of an ass beating from a grown man. While the police and the people who cared about him stopped trying to find him, the young man that would become JFRESH died by way of the adoration of the people. JFRESH rose from the carcass and became the legendary man of the underground, who boxed and beat his way onto the professional wrestling scene.”


The image transitioned to James Shark, standing with the IWF World Championship on his shoulder.

“Let me not call him a man. Really, it’s the reverse. When JFRESH was still Quinton Marshall, he was a man then. When he woke up, he was back to being a whiny little boy that didn’t remember those ass beatings he used to get. What did it matter to him what used to happen? JFRESH lived in the here and now. He didn’t have time to reflect on anything when he had ass in one hand and gold in the other. His hands were vicious, his words were lethal, and no one could stand in the way of his success. He was so close to being untouchable.”

“He had his fair share of bastard children. He had his run-in with the cops. Everything wrong that could be done is what JFRESH sought after because he didn’t know any better. Worst of all, he didn’t care about what it could do to his career. He didn’t care about anything outside of his success and getting his dick wet. It was the culture of wrestling back then. Bravado was the name of the game and JFRESH had to be the best.”

“IWF, NLWF, PWP, PDW, MLC, you name it, JFRESH thought he was the best there and he did a lot to try to prove that. Although, I remember his days in HKW when he made a comeback after some time gone. He came back to some fanfare, hell, we even teamed up for some cross-brand event. I just remember seeing him so much and then seeing him vanish. It was after his usual schtick didn’t work. It was after he found himself being done with the sport of professional wrestling and I realize that it only happens when he gets popped in the mouth one good time or when he gets embarrassed.”

“It happened when Marissa Kane knocked him out. It was when he couldn’t beat P3. MLC died out, sure, and JFRESH had to find the new place to try. HKW didn’t work out and he went dark for a while. Over time, the world changed, some people came up when he wasn’t around. We got people like Anastasia Hayden, Nora Foley, Cosmo Cooper, and myself—people that didn’t just sit around and wait for JFRESH to come back like some wannabe Black Jesus.”

“But despite all that, JFRESH came to 4CW, thinking that it was high time to take over and make the SHARKY Show a thing again. He walked his happy ass in here, trying to slap ass and take names. Then he met a brick wall in the form of DeMarcus Gresham…again.”


Video footage played out, depicting DeMarcus Gresham laying him James Shark out. It stopped on a keyframe of Shark’s face, contorted with pain and discombobulation. How could James Shark lose? He did good on his debut, but what went wrong here? Artemis chuckled over the video footage, mocking the frame, but her glee died out.

“The story of JFRESH comes to its next chapter, where the hero ended up beating a champion and now he’s back on the same stupid high that will get him beat down this show. This time, it’ll come from me. Watching these documentaries and doing my research led me to make my conclusions about JFRESH.”

The video rescinded to a picture from Quinton Marshall’s past, one of the few where he’s but an innocent boy. He wasn’t the victim of many beatings in the streets, the Underground Boxing King, the world champion, the MMA star, or the man making his way into the 4CW ranks. He was just a young boy that didn’t know that his mother would kill her, using drugs to keep the demons away.

“He’s still a child, even after everything that happened to him. Even after getting married and settling down with Harley Jo, he still acts like a goddamn fool. Nothing has changed about him. Hell, he even talked about how he went back to his old self. It got him a win, but what happens when he fights someone that knows his act and knows it sucks?”

“It’s simple. He gets beat. He goes soft and he forces himself out the door because he realizes that his time was over the day that people like me came into the game.”

“JFRESH had a better chance of beating me when he was knowing that he was an ant. That was self-awareness. That was going to help him keep his head down when my hands started coming for his face. Now, he’s just as dumb and ignorant as he was so many years ago. Taking steps back when he should be taking steps forward, thinking that one victory means that he’s successful all over again. Thinking he can take the victory from me that I need and add it to his resume like JFRESH is still someone to praise.”

“I’ve never seen JFRESH as the immortal, the man of the hour. I saw him as a man stumbling through the world that left his tired ass behind. Now that he’s back, it’s like a shitty record playing on repeat. It’s up to me to break it and burn the pieces.”

“Because I’m not going to be a catalyst for him to live the childhood he never got to have through his wrestling career.”


Artemis took a beat, where the video faded away. Only blackness remained, but in the darkness, a thin layer of audio kept going. It was the film rolling, still operating in the background with particles and scratches over the screen.

“So, at one point, I beat his wife.”

“Matter of fact, I can be the one to say I took her out, made her rethink her career choices.”

“Made her think it’s better just to be Shark’s personal baby maker than to be a wrestler.”


Artemis chuckled as she brought back footage from IWF’s last show, Resurgence. Artemis fought with her brother against Harley Jo Quinzel and Aurora Croft. The latter doesn’t get a chance to come up on screen, but it does focus on some of the damage that Artemis instilled on Shark’s wife. A few punches here, a knee or two there, and overall, it was merely to serve a point.

“I’m starting to think that I’m skilled at beating entire family trees. Shark, I’m coming for yours next. After I beat you down, beat you like the people in the streets did, I’ll need you to do something for me.”

The next frame was that of the Shark family. The pregnant Harley Jo Quinzel, James Shark, and all the members of the Slaughterhouse Gym were there for the snapshot. Lena Lyons, Jason Jackson, Daniel Fisk, Lux Jackson, and several others of the trainees.

“I need you to sit down with your family, both blood and friend. Tell them that you’re nothing but a boy trying to be a man. You can’t be the father that your family needs. I know you don’t have any frame of reference after all.”

Artemis briefly laughed at the mention of Quinton’s fatherless past.

“So, tell them that after this match, you found someone that could fill that role for you. The story of JFRESH comes to an end at Adrenaline. There won’t be a happy ending. I’m going to beat you like the parents that you never had never got to. But hey, you can used to calling me ‘daddy’ like you want every woman to do for you, because I’m going to beat you like a bitch. I’m going to beat you like a white girl with daddy issues and put you back where you belong.”

The film caught fire, burning away into nothingness. The faces of all the Slaughterhouse Gym, Harley, and James all turned to unseen ash as the feed returned back to darkness.

“Out of my fucking face.”

The scene came back to a title screen.

THE STORY OF JFRESH.

17
Adrenaline / Rookie of the Year
« on: July 08, 2018, 04:33:06 PM »

⏣⏣⏣

If the punching bag was a skull, Artemis would have been a killer by now. She hissed in pain, retracting her fist from the raw force she put behind the punch. As the bag rocked back and forth, Artemis untucked her hand from the glove. Immediately, droplets of blood came crawling down her wrist and onto the ground, striking it with a distinct noise behind it. Her hand tape bore little smears of crimson, the byproduct of the reckless attacks on the tougher equipment. Her basement gym was a mess, pieces of it scattered along the area, something that made Artemis scowl.

She hated losing.

She hated draws.

She hated anything that wasn’t winning.

Over time, she blamed it on the philosophies that her family instilled in her. “Memento Mori” was the overbearing one as it was a constant reminder of how Death came for everyone, no matter who they were or what they did. The other was that “in war, there is no substitute for victory.” Losing wasn't something to favor, it was something to loathe. Her father had always watched his children, but he watched Artemis with a certain attention. She hated that stare, as she was unsure if he was disappointed or genuinely concerned for the status of her career. He never spoke to her about it, merely opting to test her at every turn. So far, she excelled.

Now he was gone and there was no one but herself to judge her career aspirations. Failure was a possibility, but never an option, she remembered. If Artemis didn’t come home with the win, then she wouldn’t be able to stand herself. That was playing out before her eyes, her swollen knuckles told her that. Artemis couldn’t remember the last time she lost in a debut match. Taking another stare at her hand, she further realized that it must have been a long time.

Whatever. Father is dead. His opinion no longer matters.

Artemis picked up the barbells, slamming them onto the racks with absent care. Once finished, it was time to tend to the wounds on her hand. When she walked upstairs to retrieve the medical kit, she caught a glimpse of her wife, Salem, laid across the couch. The TV was on, with some cartoon playing--a nap crept on her. Artemis looked at the blanket laid to the side and started to take a step over, but she stopped herself. Pursing her lips and feeling a reminder of her injury, Artemis went to tend to that first.

What was next from here? Losing to Mark Storm wasn’t a total setback, but it was enough to make her tenure in 4CW tedious. Beating him would have given her a win to gain momentum. She wasn’t on Ante Up, but she was okay with the break. There was no use in rushing into another potential loss. Yet, as always, her lack of presence on the PPV meant she wasn’t in the audience to see people return or make huge moves.

For example, Jason Mentez, an old rival from HKW, teamed with the Hall of Famer, Jair Hopkins and beat the tag team champions, Battleborn.

She squinted as she applied disinfectant over the wound, washing the blood out. It wasn’t from the pain; it was frustration forcing her to narrow her eyes.

Kimitsu Zombie, a person she really wanted to fight, walked out as the new XTV Champion, adding to her resume with another belt. DeMarcus Gresham, another old HKW rival, was stacking the deck and collecting wins. Viduus Morta beat four competent talents to make himself a bonafide champion. No one could deny him now. Finn Whelan marched in and took a championship himself. American Tommy moved even higher up by winning the Ignition Championship.

Artemis stared at the wound, seeing the thin layer of muscle. It would heal easily before her next match against Genevie Carlson, but it was enough to hurt each time she made a fist.

Finally, Anastasia Hayden reached the top of the mountain. She fell, but she got up. She kept clawing up, even if her nails bled. Even if she was out of breath, time, and chances, she forced her way up with grit and determination that many couldn’t possess.

Artemis growled lowly, just before her smacking over the disinfectant and the other supplies. They clattered against the floor, drawing more of Artemis’ ire. She kicked them away, not caring for the new blood rushing to the surface from clenching her fist. None of that mattered as her thoughts assaulted her perception. 4CW changes as life do, but she saw the future of the company’s legacy coming through. She joined late, she understood, but she was watching the new blood become the beating heart of the company.

And she wasn’t a part of it.

Breathing heavily amidst her frenzy, she didn’t notice her wife creeping around the corner. Salem stared at Artemis, trying to suppress her breath, if not to draw the sight of a hungry, aggressive beast. Artemis looked back at the ground, seeing the mess she made for what it was--a representation of her deep-seeded temper.

“I got it,” she mumbled, reaching down to retrieve everything, but noted the blood dripping onto the ground. Salem did as well, seeing as she approached her. She got close to Artemis, kneeling to reach out for her swollen knuckles. She examined the damage, gasping softly at the amount of damage that Artemis could have done to herself. What was before was remarkable as it was terrifying. Lingering there, Salem didn’t notice the glare she was receiving. Only when she rose her head did she catch sight of it. Artemis snatched her hand away and stood up, having picked up everything into its container.

“I said I got it,” a hiss followed behind her, moving from her wife with an urgency she didn’t bother to hide. Salem didn’t try to chase her, a cautionary instinct that would protect her in the end. Artemis wrapped the bandages around her hand, trying to forget about the interaction.

What could I do to stake my claim in 4CW?

Artemis bit the end off her bandages, staring up into the kitchen window.

Wait.

Her eyes widened as she caught an idea in the webs of her mind.

That wouldn’t be possible.

She tapped her fingers against her chin as she tried to find a counterpoint. She did eventually, a smile dawning on her formerly agitated face. Artemis approached the window, looking out into the Canadian frontier. Her eyebrow furrowed, challenging the thought that came to her one last time. When it lowered, Artemis shrugged absently. She had figured it out, the future was before here now, bright and exciting.

Stranger Things have happened.

⏣⏣⏣

Inside of the mansion that Artemis was raised in was a room. It was structured into a hall of accolades, alongside weaponry that was collected by the former Kaiser patriarch. They mirrored one another, gold and violence, and Artemis traversed the hall methodically. Her fingertips slid against the many championships, including the world championship her older brother won—a living figure of her lack of one. She smiled faintly as she stopped in front of her MSW Women’s Championship, a relic of the past, but it was Artemis’ first title. It started the obsession that would eat away at her psyche and drive her to do many horrible things.

“Genevie Carlson, one of the people that you hear about the most when you talk anything about Four Corners Wrestling. It could be her skill, her charisma, or her habit of chewing out anyone who strays her way on a bad day. I have the chance to welcome her back to 4CW and I think it’s a wonderful opportunity to stretch my wings here. Eli and Genie from the Block made themselves known at Ante Up and now that it’s my turn to supposedly bow down to their regime. I had to listen to her speak about how she doesn’t care about the fans and where she went. None of them like that too much, but that didn’t change my viewpoint of her. I had the utmost respect for her because she has held gold here and she has made strides from where she came from.”

“Anyone that came from really nothing and made their way up the toughest ladder in wrestling today is something worth respecting, maybe even worth fearing,” the God of Anger flicked underneath her nose with a sharp breath, “but that sure doesn’t mean that I will idolize you. You would describe it as 'kissing ass' or whatever.” Artemis narrowed her eyes at the comment, obvious annoyance breaking to the surface.

“Let’s squash that right here.”

“I’ve spent four long years chasing the best that wrestling got because I want to be the best. I have a dream to fight everyone that’s worth a damn in this business. Add alongside this rather sadistic desire to make people kneel at my feet in crushing defeat and you can make up who I am today,” Artemis spread her arms out, presenting herself to the camera, Genevie, and the 4CW audience.

“Every day we get dime-a-dozen wrestlers trying to make their way into the business. They fail to realize that it will eat them up and shit them out without a care. They want to be champion, they want to be great, they want to be recognized. They’ll do anything from posting coy pictures of their asses or flirt with anything with a pulse for that tabloid relationship that doesn’t mean a damn. Then they’ll say that they’re good at this wrestling gig.”

Artemis shrugged.

“But in reality, they suck.”

She followed with a derisive chuckle.

“They’re here today and gone tomorrow, like shit through a goose.”

A beat.

“To be honest, Genie, people might have gotten that impression of you. A girl with a personality straight out of some crappy reality show with her middle fingers literally raised to anyone that gave her shit for simply existing. You had the same thoughts, motivations, and ideals as many of the same bitches that I broke down in the past. However, where you are different is that you brought that game to 4CW and you did more than survive. You managed to make a name for yourself and now the weak quake at your Twitter presence, actively getting you suspended for stupid mess because they’re soft.”

“It could have been easier for you, really. You could have gotten James Shark, who is a shell of his former self. I would have paid to see you take him down and get that success story of yours started with an excellent second chapter, but you got me,” Artemis patted on her chest softly, “and that’s no easy day at the office. Even when I lose, like to Mark Storm last show, I certainly don’t make it look like a victory. I make each loss against me look like a bear attack that my opponent managed to get away from. What is worse is that I adapt, I evolve, and I conquer. Most of all, I get hungrier—my fangs sharpen and I’m ready to tear out someone’s jugular. No one ever beats Artemis Kaiser twice. It’s a fact that I have reinforced each time that I get a rare tally in the L column."

“I know what the cash grab is. It’s the returning ex-champion taking on a dangerous newcomer in a war of two irresistible forces. I know what the narrative is. It’s that Genevie Carlson needs to prove herself again after a few months being gone and not really popping up elsewhere. For me, it’s the scenario that Artemis Kaiser needs to beat Genevie Carlson to etch her name in that precious mainstay position. If I beat you, I’ll be another one of the people plastered on posters because I would have taken down a legitimate name in 4CW. If I lose, though, maybe it’s that I wasn’t really that good and losing to Mark Storm wasn’t a minor slip up--it was the start of a chain of revelations. Of course, it had to be someone like you, Genie.” Artemis stiffened up, cracking her neck with a dissatisfied look. A bumbling anger began to come to the surface, but she kept it behind a door.

“We have no history beyond some minor tweets, but I know who you are, Genevie. I know what you’re capable of and I couldn’t help but try to tell you that I’m excited. Of course, you had to reply back in the way you usually do. Along with that sad excuse of a tirade, you made the mistake that changed the dynamic of this match.”

“You said you’ll make me look like a rookie,” Artemis paused, licking her lips and letting go a soft snicker, “I wonder if you know who I really am. You might know me from my recent exploits, the God of Anger, and all that. Some people were excited because they knew me from a past iteration, a few years ago, when I made my first steps into this business. Not to teach a history lesson, but if you think that making me look like a rookie will do you any good, then you’re sorely mistaken.”

“I’ve never been a starry-eyed rookie. I’ve never made rookie mistakes. I’ve never looked at this business as anything but the lion’s den that it is. I came in swinging and haven't stopped since.”

“To give you the simplified version so you can understand,” Artemis cleared her throat and glared at the camera.

“I’ve been one of the best damn wrestlers in the world since day fucking one.”

“I’m not saying that for fluff or fun, I mean it. When Artemis Kaiser debuted on May 21st, 2014, she knocked her opponent, a veteran of the sport, right the hell out. Only two weeks later, she stood at the top of her respective division as champion by dropping Shawna Martinez on her neck, breaking it, and leaving her out for a full year.”

“So, it’s okay if you want to make me look like a rookie because that rookie left people in disrepair. If that’s what you want, Genie, I can make it happen. Don't blame me for the damages, though."

“If you think that same woman has gone away over the years, you must not have recounted the steps I’ve made to become more vicious than anyone that you could think of."

"I’m just a little more professional nowadays."

"That’s why people were excited when I stepped into this company, and despite my loss to Mark Storm, I know for sure that I’m not going to play second fiddle to your return story.”

“I’m going to be the spoiler, the antagonist, the bitch that came in and made you rethink stepping back here into this ring. I don’t believe in these stories of people trying to come back off the names of those around them. I believe in shutting mouthy bitches up that think that I suck up to them. I can ruin your return on the first night, break your fingers so you can’t type up another mistake. It’ll be a favor to yourself and the rest of the wrestling world.”

“Just in case I don’t, let me lay the law down for you.”


Artemis pounded one hand into the palm of the other.

“Don’t hide behind subtweets because I’ll reach over them and smack you.”

She did it again.

“Don’t hide behind a shitty guard when I come to pop you in the mouth like your momma should have. I’ll get through and punch you again for thinking you could save yourself from this ass beating.”

“I stumbled once here, but I don’t trip and fall. I don’t have to run to lesser places to recalibrate. That makes you a coward. You’re not as great as you think you are, but I get it. You must keep that ego up at all times. Despite each failure you have collected over the span of your career, you keep your head held high."

“That takes grit, that takes determination, but it does take a warped perception of your reality to maintain it. I think that’s where you get the idea that I’m something for you to get a head start off. You don’t believe I’ll reach up and snatch you back down to the ground where you belong, and I’ll spit on you too. I’ll break that determination. I’ll put an end to that grit. I’ll make you look worse than a rookie.”

“I’ll make you look like you don’t belong here no more.”

“As a matter of fact, I’ll make you look so bad that you can excuse your happy ass out of 4CW until Ante Up next year. And when you come back, if you really want to, you can try to stress test me again.”

“Welcome to Chapter Two of Genevie Carlson’s 4CW career. It’s almost a goddamn shame that she had to fuck around with me and make it into a tragedy.”

18
Adrenaline / I. Medication.
« on: May 30, 2018, 10:11:35 PM »

⏣⏣⏣

Wrestling was a way to deal with the pain. 

The days of wearing black and waiting for the final grain of dirt to fall were over. My career needed attention, and I was going to give it exclusively. Whatever other mess was white noise at this point. Beat Mark Storm to an inch of his life was my sole objective. It's why I got up in the morning now. It's why I went to the gym and beat my knuckles numb against the sandbag. It's why I glared at my screen, smothering my want to turn away from his failures. Mark Storm would be someone I've heard of and never bothered to look at if it wasn't for this match and for what happened in the past few weeks.   

I put my father in the ground and now I'm moments away from re-entering the ring. This time, it's a new ring. It's weathered and storied, where blood of many fantastic wrestlers stained it. If I looked hard enough, I could see those stains. Look any harder and I can see the exact moment when it happened. Maybe when Dakota Smith bounced his head or someone else's off the mat here. 4CW has a story, and I'm not an important part of it. 

Not yet, anyways.

That's the excitement for me. I'm not important. There has been hype, but it's not like my name has been plastered across every promotional piece. Bronx said his words towards me, welcoming me with a personal anticipation of what I'd do. Hardly anyone else did, which would insult the common wrestler.  They would yell their lungs out about their rights to the top of the card. They would quit in the face of such civil injustice.

But not me.

I know my name carries weight. I know it makes people quiver, if they like to admit it or not. It makes some wrestlers smile with expectation and excitement over if I'm the real deal or not. At this point in my life, where I have done a lot and want a lot more, I don't care for the pageantries. I'm hungry, but I'm not a beggar. I'm not going to beg for a spotlight that I have yet to prove myself for. I will ditch every accolade and ounce of reputation if it means that I can make an honest rise to the top of this company.

To hell with HKW.

To hell with GIW.

To hell with GPW.

To hell with my entire career if it means that I can lay waste to every person in this company, one by one, step by step. 

It feels good.

No, it feels damn good, to be in a place where I'm not hailed as the monster to kill all monsters, the demon, the God of Anger, as it has happened in Empire Pro or any other place. It makes me almost salivate at the sight of a fellow 4CW wrestler staring me down with not contempt, but normalcy. I'm no God among men. I'm Artemis Kaiser, just another wrestler. 

This hides the pain underneath this persona of mine. My belligerence keeps me from having to come to terms with it all. It's not healthy to utilize violence as a coping mechanism or a safeguard from the flood of feelings that stands at the forefront of my mind. 

Not until I see the meat of his face will I stop. Not until I make him put up his arms in pleading, not in retaliation will I stop beating Mark Storm. It might be unnecessary, for Mark Storm did nothing wrong. However, when they come to me and ask why I went so hard against him. I'll have an answer already ready for them. I'll turn to that camera and smile that sickening smile that I practiced. Then in the most joyful tone I can, I'll say it like this.

"I did it because he exists," I would start, "so he had every right to get beat like he did."

They'll call me a horrible person. They'll call me unhinged. The people of 4CW will call me a tryhard or edgy. That's okay. They won't call me a woman in mourning. They won't call me weak. They'll call me everything under the sun but what I really am. For that, I should thank Mark Storm, his trainers, his parents, the Dogs of War, and anyone else who helped him get to this very moment.

If it wasn't for him being here, I couldn't start my road to recovery. 

And that I'm truly thankful for.


⏣⏣⏣

Artemis never believed in heroes. Her father, Leon, would be considered the supervillain that many couldn’t stop, a Doomsday or a Thanos. Henceforth, she always watched “heroes” get destroyed. Occasionally, one would come forward and manage to stop her father, but he would rise more monstrous than he was prior. Heroes were left in ruin, which became Artemis’ entertainment. So, for a person to say that they were a hero was to become Artemis’ newest plaything in her mind, and the thought remained as she grew older. 

Now, Mark Storm, he wasn’t a hero. Sure, the mantra he boasts could fool the unintelligent, but he’s not. He’s a psychopath wrapped in a myriad of personas. The “Your Hero, and Mine” act was just another chapter in the convoluted plotline that was his career. The last that Artemis heard of him was his efforts in FGA, which were scattered. Of course, someone would ask if she ever heard of the Dogs of War. Up until the card’s announcement, Artemis didn’t know them or care to know who they were. They were important to some of the CWC’s success, but she never cared for stables and their suffocating self-promotion. She wasn’t an avid wrestling fan either, she would admit.

A lot of wrestlers, she found, were exactly the same. They were your everyday man, trying to make it in a dog-eat-dog world. She found a lot of the time that they had some sob story that would draw the fans in. Beyond that, they were all technical marvels or strong style specialists by self-promotion. That, or they would flip off anything with how many rotations they think they can do before they break their neck. In any case, when Artemis would face them, she would find disappointment in their encounters. The strong style saviors would only mock the tradition. The technical wizards didn't know a Fujiwara from a Kimura. The highfliers or daredevils would end up knocking themselves out way before Artemis had the chance. Watching them on the internet, because there weren't any true federations anymore, Artemis found herself saddened by what wrestling had become.

Everyone shook hands. Everyone respected one another. The arguments you would see on Twitter were mostly passionate promotional tactics to allure the unaware. If one checked back after the match happened, there were usually words about how tough someone's opponent was. Gone were the days of true hatred. Instead, people were dead set on earning respect and adoration of their co-workers, not caving one another's heads in. While Artemis remained occupied on ruining her opponent's life, she would get young stars trying to make their name off her or rally her attention. 

In the end, Artemis found wrestling boring. So, watching it was a waste of her time. Aside from the lack of what she had originally found in wrestling, every organization had the same talent. Artemis could watch every corporation and see the same handful of people there. Sadly, many of the people who polluted each wrestling stream were people she had defeated or didn't care about. A thought that came to her mind was what else she could be doing, instead of watching World Class Rookie #467 fight whatever oversaturated superstar in a "FIVE STAR CLASSIC." 

Oh, the humanity.

Instead of mulling over the idea of doing whatever else, she spent a majority of her time doing whatever else. For instance, Deadly Class, a graphic novel she has been following, recently got announced to get a live-action adaptation. The momentous occurrence begged for Artemis to submerge herself back into the psychedelic, hellacious life of Marcus Lopez Arguello. A comic shop, the one fresher than its closer, but sweater counterpart, carried all its volumes. Artemis noted that if she came at 1:35 PM on a Tuesday, she could browse without worry of being caught. Being a wrestler and a fan of comics crashed together with both fanbases—sometimes, they were one in the same.

“You don’t like wrestling?” a fan with too many colors in her hair asked.

A perplexing situation, where someone didn’t know when to silence themselves. Artemis radiated the desire for her to leave, but fans are known to stick like a stubborn stain. Artemis was forced to deal with her until she was able to leave. The fan had asked if Artemis saw any matches over the weekend. The Paragon show became the topic that the fan tried to educate Artemis on, but it was a moot point. 

“No, not really,” Artemis gave the answer, with a low growl underneath, “what purpose do I have to watch other people succeed?”

“You’re a wrestler. Shouldn’t you enjoy the craft?” it was an obvious question. Other sport players watch their competition. In wrestling, many of the combatants are fans, so why not Artemis? 

Artemis tried to leave the conversation, not wanting to be bothered with the matter. The fan kept following her, striking up the same subject while Artemis picked up something else that caught her eye. “I enjoy the craft enough when I’m competing.”

“What about names like Tyler Storm or Riley Sweet?” Artemis narrowed her eyes, “what about Molly Reid?”

“Don’t care. Fought her. Beat her.”

The fan was understandably disappointed in Artemis' answer. It wasn't drawn out nor expressive. Artemis told her with a dry, fast tone, leaving no room for a counterpoint. She honed this skill when she spoke to annoying interviewers after matches. She wanted to go drink some water and clean up, not talk about what she just did. 

Those interviewers will do anything for a paycheck.

The gnat fumbled around for something else to ask. At this point, the star struck feeling had overtaken her perception. 

“Well, have you started watching 4CW?”

Artemis lolled her tongue in her mouth and turned to face the fan. “I watch the PPVs or a show now and again. I’m a busy person,” she explained, hoping it would give the fan enough to piss off. Alas, she didn’t go away. Instead, she seemed elated that Artemis humored her.

“Do you have a favorite?” it was the most innocent thing she could say.

If assault wasn’t illegal, Artemis sighed. “No, I don’t. I like many people there, but I don’t do favorites anymore.”

“Why is that?” the fan innocently asked, adding a head tilt to the presentation.

Artemis paused, retrieving all the things she wanted. 

"My hero--" Artemis interrupted herself, "my favorite died a little while ago.”

⏣⏣⏣

“When I signed the dotted line recently, I wondered what would await me in 4CW. I know of the competition here. You wouldn’t go anywhere in wrestling without hearing what amazing things that 4CW put on. From the bottom to the top, there’s extraordinary talent. So, it was only a matter of time before I decided to take the plunge and let myself be apart of such a company. My vignette was sent out and I awaited to hear who I would face first,” she snickered, “I came to find out that I wasn’t in the main event or the headliner. I know some finnicky people would be frustrated at that, but to me, it’s a chance for me to return to basics. The pleasantries of the limelight are satisfying, but I believe in the concept of forcing my way up the mountain.”

“The waiting game was hell,” Artemis said, “I’m glad to say that I’m not disappointed. I’m not facing someone scrapping the bottom of the barrel. This is no free win for me. I’m facing Mark Storm. In some circles, Artemis Kaiser vs. Mark Storm would sell out a full arena. I can feel myself getting antsy, excited, enthralled in the prospect of facing a former EWC World Champion.”

Fluorescent light began to flood the premises, appearing with the annoying, dull hum of rushing electricity. X-ray illuminators brought Artemis’ form into light. She stood there, wearing a doctor’s coat loosely on her shoulders. Each of the x-rays and CAT scans bore Mark Storm’s name on them, and they circled around Artemis as she wandered through the set. Suddenly, she stopped, where something foreign caught her step. 

Artemis couldn’t contain her giggles. The scarred-up woman covered her mouth, trying her hardest to keep them internalized. “Okay, fine, I’m not as excited as I said I was. As a matter of fact, you can say that I was lying a moment ago. The whole ‘selling out the arena’ thing? Yeah, no, that’s not what got me excited. I couldn’t care less about the dream match quality of this fight. That’s something for the fans to obsess over. My only care is if Mark Storm will bring me what brought him to that World Championship.”

“The story of Mark Storm is all over the place. That’s what hysteria does to a man. If you go back to the different eras of Mark Storm, you can see each new persona he fashioned onto him. It was his way of making himself feel authentic, because he didn’t know who he was anymore. I recall him being some ‘insane’ persona a short while ago. Many people in FGA remember the ‘Indy Wrestler’ schtick he had going on. Now, we’re here at the 'Your Hero, and Mine' chapter of Mark Storm’s miserable life.”

“At this time, I’d like to take this chapter and throw it away. Egotism isn’t the suit that fits Storm the most. The sort of words that come out of his mouth are based in prior success, but that has since been snatched away from him. He cannot spare to be egotistical because each venture he has since leaving the EWC has been riddled with not failure, but something worse.”

Artemis rose a single finger. 

“Inadequacy.”

She retracted her finger back into her fist. “It’s the habitual start-and-stop that makes what Mark Storm is. That’s what makes his narcissism so frustrating to listen to. He speaks of change; he speaks of progression. Yet, I’ve only seen him take a first step into a new life and then take two steps back into the same patterns. That sort of mentality isn’t going to do well against me. I destroy those kinds of people who don’t know what they’re doing anymore. They cannot stand against someone whose resolute in everything she does. Mark Storm isn’t the threat to me as I am to him. If anything, I’m the cure to his disease, to his identity crisis.”

“I’m the quick fix.”

“I’m the addictive medication.”

“I’m an instant lobotomy.”

“Usually, a person making their debut would find themselves preoccupied with making themselves look good above all. For me, I can make a dissection look like an art show, a murder like a dance, and Mark Storm’s bloody defeat look like a mercy killing,”
Artemis tucked her arms behind her back, taking a look at the x-rays. “The only way to save his life is to kill this hero and force Mark Storm to change again.”

She approached a final illuminator, where the x-rays took on a more grotesque appearance. Injuries riddled many of them, with an emphasis on a portion of exact damage. 

“Now, Storm, I want to ask you if you’ll remember me. Are you going to remember Artemis Kaiser, the woman who made her debut and made a mess out of you? Will you see me in your nightmares, where your subconscious keeps me on repeat to remind you that you should stay far away from me? Will you see me around every corner, a terrifying flicker that keeps you from feeling safe every again? Will you remember what I’ll do to you, Mark, or will you hide it behind mental walls to keep your sanity safe?”

“Will you remember the moment when I wedged my elbow into your jawline?” she pointed to a fractured jaw. 

“What about the bruised eye socket, the dislocated arm, the missing teeth, or the broken ribs?” Artemis kept pointing to the injuries. When she did, she would tear down the image until there was one left. It was just an image of Mark Storm, not an x-ray, but just a collage of different facial pictures. It was a collage of the personas that Mark Storm put on.

“Most importantly, Mark Storm, will you remember who you are? Will I force another change in you? What will be next out of you? Will you go elsewhere and come up with a brand-new persona or will you come back the same?”

Artemis took off the picture, holding it for a moment. Her next course of action was to ball it up and throw it away.

“I’m interested to see what happens,” Artemis grinned, “that’s the beauty of this match. It’s not the grandiose nature of a debut. It’s not the excitement of fighting a strong person like you, Storm.”

“It’s being able to play doctor and see what makes you crack.”

19
Non-Active Talent / Artemis Kaiser
« on: May 14, 2018, 08:57:51 PM »
ARTEMIS KAISER

CHARACTER INFORMATION
NAME: Artemis Kaiser
NICKNAME: The Last Empress, The God of Anger
DATE OF BIRTH: April 3rd, 1993
PROFESSIONAL DEBUT: May 21st, 2014
HEIGHT: 5’2”
WEIGHT: 135 lbs
BILLED FROM: Toronto, Ontario, Canada
ALIGNMENT: Heel
ENTRANCE MUSIC: "Sonne” by Rammstein
PICBASE: Karolina Owczarz
TWITTER HANDLE: @TheChamp4Life
DESIRED SHOW: Adrenaline


PERSONALITY DESCRIPTION
Artemis' outward personality resembles something close to a honey badger. She's routinely belligerent and cold-hearted to those who she doesn't like. Why is that? Because Artemis lives a life of constant war with the wrestling world. Anyone that she meets can potentially get in the way of her dream. As such, they must be handled with extreme prejudice. She doesn't concern herself with too much beyond trying to garner a higher position in the world, advancing her reputation as a dangerous competitor, and decimating those who slight her in the smallest ways.


APPEARANCE DESCRIPTION
Artemis is a short, tanky girl on the forefront. Commonly expressing a scowl on her face, she's also seen as a generally grumpy person. In addition, she can be rather unsettling, due to both her wild look (bags under her eyes, an intense glare, and sharper than normal teeth). She has great posture, stands straight with clenched fists. Finally, she has a plethora of scars on her body. Many of them come from the heated feuds she involved herself in, but they’re no longer the focus of her life. She routinely shrouds them in makeup until it’s time for a fight, in which she proudly wear them as a warrior does.

Artemis used to be a woman that remained casual in her time away from the ring or outside. As of the Young Guns, Artemis has begun to enhance her apparel. If she remains in the casual realm, she wears promotional material (like a t-shirt of a wrestler or her own brand). However, Artemis tends to dress more formally, wearing pants suits of neutral colors. In more business casual settings, she'll opt to wear a dress. She even stepped up her make up game, shrouding many of her scars except for the scar that draws down her left eye. She believes it gives her a subtly ruthless appearance. Hell, she even wears shades most of the time to amp up the foreboding persona.

IN-RING GEAR:
Artemis wears a black sports bra with the Red Lantern symbol embroidered onto the left breast, which goes along with her half Vale Judo shorts that bear a red and black camouflage theme. On the back of them, a wolf with its maw wide open and fangs threatening rests. Artemis wears black boots that reach the bottom of her knees with knee pads over them. Kick Pads are also present, red to fit the general theme of her attire. Most notably of this is the infamous red streak of face paint that she dons on her face.


STYLE & MOVESET
WRESTLING STYLE: Trained originally in mixed martial arts (Judo, Kickboxing, Sambo, and BJJ), Artemis has a rough time making the transition to professional wrestling. Her style does work against the newer age of wrestling that revolves around quick grappling and Puroresu inspired striking. Her striking can easily be mistaken for Strong Style as she tends to brutalize opponents to hard blows. Eventually, she found her niche in deathmatch styles to the point of being invited to Laurel Anne Hardy's Deathmatch Invitational. She specializes in disorienting foes and beating them down to the point of fans being disturbed by it. Since her devastating bouts against Scarlet Flint, Andreas Lasiewicz, and Ashlyn de Luca, Artemis has started to steer clear of hardcore matches. She's much more methodical now, focusing more self-preservation than ever. {Minoru Suzuki/Tomohiro Ishii/William Regal}

* = weight dependent

STANDING
  • Catch Powerbomb*
  • Flying Armbar
  • Uraken - Spinning Backfist
  • Guillotine Choke
  • Muay Thai Clinch Knees
  • Half and Half Suplex*
  • Capture Suplex*
  • Tilt-A-Whirl Argentine Backbreaker*
  • Enter the Dragon - Flying Side Kick
  • Death Valley Driver
  • Jumping DDT
  • Half Nelson Backbreaker
  • Roundhouse Kick

GROUND
  • Gator Roll into Grounded Knees
  • Grapevine Ankle Lock
  • Fujiwara Armbar
  • Soccer Kick to the Ribs
  • Face Stomp
  • Running Knee Drop

RUNNING
  • Leaping Lariat
  • Front Dropkick
  • Chop Block
  • Back Roll off opponent’s back

AERIAL
  • Diving Crossbody
  • Moonsault

TAUNTS
  • STOCKTON SLAP! - A loud, echoing open-handed slap across the face of her opponent. It hurts, but it's mostly in order to rile up her opponents or prove her dominance. She'll do it multiple times if need be to get her point across.
  • Finger Gun to grounded opponent
  • Stretching Dramatically Mid-Match if she’s bored.

SIGNATURE
Hand of God: Superman Punch
Hate Parade: A variation on Super Dragon's Violence Party - Artemis throws her opponent into the corner and unleashes a heavy elbow strike to her opponent's face, disorienting them. She then opens with four alternating elbow strikes. Then she follows up with several Puroresu styled chops. Next, she kicks them ruthlessly, before stepping off. She rushes back in with a running high knee. As they slump to the ground, Artemis ends the barrage with a devastating running face wash.

FINISHER
The Crusades: Artemis’ arsenal of hitting different Rolling Elbow strikes.
The First Crusade - Rolling Elbow
- The Second Crusade - Ripcord into an Elbow Smash
- The Third Crusade - Inverted Headlock into an Elbow Smash
- The Fourth Crusade - Shadow Elbow
- The Fifth Crusade - Stomp to the back of the head into Rolling Elbow
Cure For Insomnia: Reverse Neckbreaker


CHARACTER BACKGROUND
Description here no space between this and "CHARACTER BACKGROUND" above.

4CW CHAMPIONSHIPS HELD
  • 4CW Champion (1x)
  • 4CW Ignition Champion (1x)

OTHER CHAMPIONSHIPS HELD
  • HKW Bloodlust Champion (1x)
  • HKW World Tag Team Championship [With Scarlet Flint as Sine Mora] (1x)
  • GPW Tag Team Championship [With Alexis Terry as Hail Britannia] (1x)
  • GPW West Coast Championship (1x)
  • ECWF Tag Team Championship [With Kyra McKnight] (1x)
  • MSW Women's Champion (1x)
  • MSW PURE 15 Champion (1x)
  • MSW Tag Team Champion [With Peyton and Cameron Kaiser as the Kaiser Dynasty] (1x)
  • MSW Hardcore Champion (1x)
  • RWD Women's Champion (1x)
  • FORCE Pro Champion (1x)
  • FFW No Surrender Champion (1x)


REGULAR ENTRANCE DESCRIPTION

Code: [Select]
Sounds of thunder and lightning cast out, setting the atmosphere of the incoming Conqueror. The lights in the arena die out to allow for the spontaneous bursts of light that reflect the internalized storm.  Smoke congregates on the entrance stage. As the silence takes hold, the startling opening guitar screech of Rammstein’s “Sonne” overtakes everything. It is followed by the infamous countdown.

[center][i]“EINS, ZWEI, DREI, VIER, FUNF, SECHS, SIEBEN, ACHT, NOIN, AUS!”[/i][/center]

Rammstein’s “Sonne” explodes into the arena with its thrashing instrumentals. From the back, Artemis Kaiser comes through, outfitted in her militant attire. Embroidered with many shimmering designs, Artemis’s military trench coat lightly moves as she rises onto the stage with her arms outspread. Bearing fangs fashioned onto a facemask and her eyes hidden behind shining red shades, Artemis steps down from the platform and into the smoke. It glistens dully in the red light, a momentary visualization of the constant blood flow associated with her matches. The red mark across her nose flashes slightly in the light as well. She scans the arena with the serious nature that couples with her reputation and starts down the ramp.

[b]POWERS: [/b][color=#166189]”Making her way down to the ring...weighing in at 135 pounds...fighting out of Mount Pearl, Newfoundland, Canada...she is the LAST EMPRESS, ARTEMIIIIIIIIIIIIISSSSSSS KAAAAAAAAAAAAISEEEEEEEEER!"[/color]

Artemis marches down to the ring with her arms behind her back, not breaking her forward gaze. As the call concludes, the shot shows Artemis revealing her face to the camera and the audience. She removes her glasses, tucking them into the breast pocket of the coat. When she raises her head, the red streak, her scowl, and her stern expression completes all she wishes to do at her entrance. She continues to the western side of the ring, scaling the apron to stand on. She unbuckles the different pieces of her coat and politely hands it off to the stagehand. Showing her finesse, Artemis dips over the top with a rope-assisted backflip. She lands on her feet, giving the audience another pensive glare.

[center][i]Eins!
Hier kommt die Sonne!
Zwei!
Hier kommt die Sonne!
Drei!
Sie ist der hellste Stern von allen!
Vier!
Hier kommt die Sonne![/i][/center]

After which, she hits the mat again, rolling backward onto a knee. Her head rises to scan the audience as she remains in the dead center of everything, of her personal universe. The Last Empress rises off the mat, tugging on her black gloves. She pops each of her knuckles by pressing her index finger over them. After that and with her theme dying out, she turns her head to back to reality. She walks over to her corner, and gives the turnbuckle a brisk kick and stretches out.


CHAMPION ENTRANCE DESCRIPTION

Code: [Select]
Death tolls in the arena as the lights go down. The sound of rolling thunder and fierce lightning submerges the audience into the atmosphere that surrounds the coming champion. The lights, flashing and waning, represents the storm in the arena. Smoke starts to pollute the stage and it seems that a somber tone could settle down. Yet, the screeching opening guitar riff of Rammestein’s “Sonne” annihilates that entirely. The countdown to the arrival commences.

[center][i]“EINS, ZWEI, DREI, VIER, FUNF, SECHS, SIEBEN, ACHT, NOIN, AUS!”[/i][/center]

Artemis marches down to the ring with her arms behind her back, not breaking her forward gaze. As the call concludes, the shot shows Artemis revealing her face to the camera and the audience. She removes her glasses, tucking them into the breast pocket of the coat. When she raises her head, the red streak, her scowl, and her stern expression completes all she wishes to do at her entrance. She continues to the western side of the ring, scaling the apron to stand on. She unbuckles the different pieces of her coat and politely hands it off to the stagehand. On her waist is the championship that she proudly carries. She abandons the athletic backflip in lieu of just stepping down to the ring.

[center][i]Eins!
Hier kommt die Sonne!
Zwei!
Hier kommt die Sonne!
Drei!
Sie ist der hellste Stern von allen!
Vier!
Hier kommt die Sonne![/i][/center]

[b]POWERS: [/b][color=#166189]"Making her way down to the ring...weighing in at 135 pounds...fighting out of Mount Pearl, Newfoundland, Canada...she is the REIGNING AND DEFENDING 4CW (CHAMPIONSHIP) CHAMPION...SHE IS THE LAST EMPRESS, ARTEMIIIIIIIIIIIIISSSSSSS KAAAAAAAAAAAAISEEEEEEEEER!
"[/color]

Artemis steps slowly back into the center of the ring. Her head rises to scan the audience as she remains in the dead center of everything, of her personal universe. The Last Empress rises off the mat, tugging on her black gloves. She pops each of her knuckles by pressing her index finger over them. After that and with her theme dying out, she turns her head to back to reality. She walks over to her corner, and gives the turnbuckle a brisk kick and stretches out.


HANDLER INFORMATION
NAME: Von
AGE: 23
EXPERIENCE: 4 Years
PREFERRED METHOD OF CONTACT: Twitter DM. You can ask me for my Skype info if you want.


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