Wrestler Stats IWF Record: 27-12-1 Alignment: In Between
Subject: Act One: A Saint's Saving Grace Wed May 30, 2012 9:39 am
…:::…:::…:::…:::… …::: Act One :::… …::: A Saint’s Saving Grace :::… …:::…:::…:::…:::…
Rain
It always seemed like it was fucking raining. There was always something falling from the sky. Rain, snow, sleet, hale…there was always something pouring down from the perpetually gray clouds overhead.
I pull my trench coat’s collar up for what seemed like the thousandth time. It fucking sucked walking to this part of Chicago. There was always some hooker or drug dealer looking to lure me into the shadows of the run down apartments on either side of the street so they could fuck me out of my money one way or another.
Me Heh…fuck me out of my money…
I’d have to remember that one for later
Little did these street walking vermin know…but I served a higher purpose. I couldn’t waste my life squandering my meager wealth on loose women and temporary highs. I didn’t need loose women…women lead to feelings…and feelings lead to weakness…and in my line of work, weakness was the last thing I needed.
They had gotten to me early…real early. I had been shuffled around from school to school…never staying in the same place for longer than 2 or 3 months before I was sent off to a different public school with brand new kids to torture me. I liked to remain silent in those days...hell, I liked to stay silent these days too. Silence is its own kind of reward. If you don’t speak, people forget that you are there. And if people forget that you are there, then no one can remember you for a long period of time…and if no one can remember you or remember if you were there…then no one could point the finger of blame at you when a dead body turned up floating face down in the punch bowl now could they?
The idiots at the dozens of high schools I attended assumed that I couldn’t talk…or that I had some form of mental illness like autism just because I didn’t like to speak. I knew damn well that there wasn’t anything wrong with me or with my brain…they just couldn’t understand that I loved to watch the faces they made when they asked me dozens of stupid questions and expected me to jump through their imaginary hoops so I could “obtain credits in order to graduate.” They just couldn’t see the end game…the dozens of counselors and therapists couldn’t see the big picture…
But they could…which is why they turned up at the front door of my orphanage when I was 17. A pair of them told the nun that ran the house that they needed to talk to me…that they had discovered extremely important news about how my parents died….news that would change my life forever. I remember the look of relief on the nun’s face when she told me that the two men were here to take me away. I knew, as soon as I walked down the stairs, that these two men would change my life forever…and that it had nothing to do with any sort of “news” about the gruesome murder of my parents. I knew that the only reason that the nun was truly happy was because she was hoping that these two men would either kill me or take me away once and for all…I knew that she hoped that she never had to lay eyes on me ever again. I remember walking by her, towards the two men dressed in matching black suits with black ties and white undershirts, and saying to her
“Don’t worry…the feeling is mutual”
I had to restrain myself from laughing hysterically when her face turned so red with embarrassment that it looked like her head was going to explode in a shower of blood.
The two men had walked me to their car and, as soon as we had climbed inside, I remember that I had looked them straight in their faces and said
“So…who do you guys really work for?”
I eventually arrive at the end of the sidewalk and pause a moment as I slowly lift my gaze, allowing the rain to fall softly on my face. A towering old factory stands before me, surrounded by a massive brick wall with only a single rusted wrought iron gate barring entry to the casual observer. I narrow my gaze…looking up at the looming factory without making it seem like I was searching for something. The trick was to act casual…to pretend that you were looking at nothing at all. Twilight was falling and the rain combined with the fading sun and the lack of street lamps in this part of town allowed the darkness to practically swallow me whole
I could see the numerous snipers, their guns hidden from view by looming gargoyles that dotted the rooftop. The snipers themselves were covered from head to foot in lightweight, body-heat masking camouflage blankets. The blankets trapped the body’s heat signature so well that there was no way a man could show up on an Infrared radar if he properly hid himself.
These guys were truly professionals in every sense of the word
I step backwards into one of the alleyways across the street from the decrepit old factory. I slowly reach into my trench coat and remove a white silken mask. I smile slightly as I look down at the mask, a twisted sense pleasure washing over me as the mask suddenly springs to life. Black blotches slowly begin to appear on the mask, swirling together to create the illusion of familiar shapes and figures. I had found the mask a long time ago…so long ago that I truly don’t remember how I came by it. What I loved about the mask was that one never knew what they were looking at when they looked at it. For some, they saw familiar faces and friends in the swirling black blobs…for others, they saw the Grim Reaper coming to claim their souls…
But only I knew what the mask truly represented…only I knew what the swirling black blobs truly meant
Fear
I pull the mask over my head and step out of the alleyway…feeling instantly more secure about myself. For some reason, whenever I put this mask on, I felt as though everything was right in the world…almost like the mask was my real face, not the flesh and bone that made up my distinct “facial features” that the rest of the world saw
I walk up to the wrought iron gate and take the old padlock in my hand. I reach into my pocket, feeling around for a moment, before pulling out a single rusted key. There had been times when I had been tempted to just leap over the wall or kick in the gate, which was barely hanging on by the loose set of hinges anyways. But I knew that they liked their formalities and that the formalities had to be observed…for now at least.
When I killed their leader and took control though, those formalities would go right out the fucking window
I slide the rusted key into the padlock and, after a moment of fidgeting around, I feel myself smile as the lock clicks open. I remove the padlock from the gate and push the gate open just wide enough so that I could squeeze through. As soon as I am inside the grounds of the factory, I turn and push the gate shut, making sure to replace the padlock on the gate. I then turn and walk across the grounds of the factory, my gaze constantly shifting as I notice the rusted out barrels and heaps of scrap metal that dotted the front part of the grounds.
I walk around the side of the factory and over to a small, black steel door. I reach out and knock on the door three times. After the third knock, a small slit slides open, revealing a pair of eyes staring at me from the other side of the door
??? Password?
I sigh and shake my head, chuckling softly to myself under my mask. More fucking pointless formalities…
Me Phoenix
The steel slot slides shut quickly, leaving me standing outside in the rain. I knew it was the right password…the irony definitely did not go unnoticed. Tonight, a formerly wealthy man had come to them and asked for a large loan. When they asked him what the loan was for, he had told them that the loan was going to be used as one of three payments to start up a wrestling promotion…a wrestling promotion that was going to use the phoenix as it’s symbol…
The sound of locks and bars being unlocked and removed from the other side of the door jostle me back into the moment. The door suddenly swings open and I am greeted by the sight of two sisters. One of the sisters had long black hair and a deathly look burning in the depths of her eyes, while the other sister’s hair, though naturally black, had long blonde streaks in it.
Kate and Trinity Rollins
Trinity Rollins Hurry…we don’t have much time
Kate Rollins The ceremony is about to begin
I laugh softly as I take a few paces forward, entering the factory proper
Me I don’t think they’ll start without me…considering tonight is my naming night and everything…
“Naming Night”…yet another fucking pointless ceremony. When they officially inducted a new member into their ranks, they held a ceremony for the new inductee where the new inductee could choose his or her own codename and be formerly introduced to the highest ranking officials in the group.
But tonight’s naming night would go down in history as the last naming night the group ever held….I had already taken steps to make damn sure of that
Me Is everything in position?
Trinity Rollins Everyone is firmly in your corner besides the target
Kate Rollins All you have to do is sever the old man’s grasp…the guards, the council, no one will raise a finger to stop you. Once his reign has been ended…your reign can begin
I nod my head at the two Rollins Sisters. They had been faithful servants of mine since joining the organization.
Me You will both be rewarded…I can assure you of that
Trinity nods her head stoically as Kate reaches out and brushes her fingertips along the arm of my trench coat. The three of us walk the rest of the way through the factory in silence, each of us mentally reviewing the necessary steps that had to be taken for tonight to end with a favorable result. The timing had to be perfect…there was too much hanging in the balance for there to be even the slightest error. A fact that we were all well aware of
The three of us arrive at another, smaller steel door a few moments later. Trinity reaches out and rests her hand on the handle of the door
Trinity Rollins Good luck tonight
“Luck”…luck was fickle…luck was something that braggarts and beasts needed. Luck was something that gamblers and fools relied on to get them through the day. Luck was cruel and implied that there was a chance that you would fail in your object, purely because of some ironic or tragic twist of fate. I turn and look at Trinity
Me Luck is for losers
Trinity smiles softly, the first time I had ever seen her do so, as she presses down on the level and opens the steel door. Without saying anything else, I walk into the candle-lit room before me. The sound of the steel door closing behind me doesn’t even register as I look up at the four members of the council seated on a raised platform on the far wall. The council was composed of four charter members and a leader. There was no fancy name for the Leader…or if there was one I didn’t know it, nor did I care to use it.
Without missing a beat, I walk across the chamber and kneel before the raised platform, bowing my head, waiting for the Leader to speak…
Leader You have done good work for us over the years…you have been faithful and true to our most basic of tenements and have worked tirelessly to bring about the end of corruption and greed
Me Everything I have done, I have always done in the name of The Insurgency
I can hear my own voice whispering softly in my head
“Patience…patience…the time is coming soon…”
Leader Tonight when you entered this building and kneeled before us, you were nothing more than a tool…a vessel that we had to fill with our knowledge. But tonight, you will become so much more than a vessel. For tonight, you will officially join our ranks. Tonight, you will be inducted into The Insurgency and given a name…a name that your brothers and sisters in The Insurgency will call you by from this point on…a name that your enemies will fear more than death…
“Soon…VERY SOON…”
Leader You have been notified and given time to prepare for this moment my son. Rise now, and tell this council what your true identity will be!
I lift my gaze, smiling crazily underneath my mask. I place my closed fist over my heart, feeling it pounding rapidly against my chest
“THE TIME IS NOW! NOW! NOW!”
I suddenly reach into my trench coat and wrap my hand around three throwing knives. I see the Leader’s eyes begin to widen as panic and realization dawns over his face. The old man had to have seen this coming…he had to have known that I wouldn’t be his tool…his fucking lap dog. He had to have known that I was no one’s servant…that I would be coming for his job…and his head
Leader GUAR-
Time suddenly slows down as I remove the knives from my trench coat and spread them out in my hand, feeling their weight being evenly distributed in my palm. I cock my right arm back and then throw the knives, the candle light dancing along their brightly polished steel. The knives sail through the air and embed themselves deep in the Leader’s chest. The Leader grabs at his chest and I feel my smile widen as I am rewarded with the sounds of the Leader choking on his own blood.
I wait until the Leader’s body stops twitching before I slowly pull myself up to my feet. Without saying a word I walk over to the raised structure, reach out, and climb up onto the stage. The rest of the members slowly stand up, drawing themselves out of their chairs…and immediately fall down to their knees. Each member of the council places their clenched fists over their hearts as they bow their heads
Council members The Leader is dead All hail the new Leader
I walk over to the old Leader’s motionless corpse, staring down at the man who had been like a father to me. The former Leader had raised me from the time I left the orphanage and joined The Insurgency...he had taken me under his wing and had dedicated the latter part of his life to teaching me the ways of The Insurgency…a small part of me wonders if he had suspected that it would end this way, that he would die by my hand…the hand of the man he considered to be the son he never had…he had to have known that I wouldn’t have been content with serving under his rule. He had to have known that I would be the one to rise up and overthrow him.
It didn’t matter what he thought now, though
I turn and look down at the kneeling members of The Council. The senior most member of The Council, a man whose codename was “Solidus,” slowly lifts his head and looks up at me
Solidus What is your first order of business dear Leader?
Under my mask I feel a smirk beginning to slowly spread across my facial features. These men…these sheep…were willing to follow a man who lived his life under a mask. None of them knew my true identity…the only one who actually knew what I looked like under this mask had choked to death on his own blood and was lying motionless at my feet.
Carl Marx believed that religion was the opiate of the masses, a tool that was used by the upper class to give the working class false hope since the dawn of time. In a way, Marx was right…however I knew that religion wasn’t the true opiate of the masses…for the true opiate of the masses is the illusion of freedom
I slowly walk past the council, ignoring their bowing heads and the obvious discomfort some of the older members were undoubtedly experiencing trying to maintain their kneeling position for an extended period of time. Let them cling to their traditions for a few moments more before I brought their old ways crumbling down around their ears
Me This Insurgency…this Council…this collection of lost souls…claims that they are fighting to cast off the shackles of the oppressed and sieze the glorious future that you believe freedom from a corrupt system will bring you. You fight because you believe that there is a glorious tomorrow that is just out of arms reach and that you can achieve it if enough blood has been spilt…
I walk up to the chair that the former Leader had been sitting in and pause. I slowly turn and motion toward the body of the former Leader
Me Tonight, I spilt the blood of a man that all of you held near and dear to your chests…a man that I considered to be the closest thing I’ve ever had to a father. And yet, when my knife was sailing through the air, not a single one of you lifted a finger to stop it…and do you know why? Because greed is inherent in all of us….a desire for more than we could ever dream of drives us to get out of bed in the morning and allows us to turn a blind eye to corruption and despair. Green and lust take otherwise noble men and turn them into starving dogs, ready to turn and bite off the hand that feeds them at a moment’s notice. The Insurgency has lost its way, my friends. For too long this once noble and proud organization has been led by the corrupt and the insane…for too long this rebellion has been led by liars and thieves who sneak about in the night and conspire against their leader in the shadows…
I slowly sit down in the chair reserved for The Leader of The Insurgency. I reach out, gripping the ends of the arms of the chair tightly, feeling my heart begin to beat faster and harder in my chest as adrenaline floods through my system. I was born to sit here…I was born to lead this Insurgency…I was born to save it from the grasp of scared old men and corrupt leadership…
Me Gentlemen…do not fear me…for I am a Saint sent to offer The Insurgency its SALVATION. I am a Saint who has come to release you from your greed…I am a Saint who has come to release you from your lust…I am a Saint who will place The Insurgency in the palms of my hands and uplift The Insurgency to the heights that it was meant to achieve.
I don’t even blink when the door to the massive room suddenly flies open. Nor does my mask show any kind of emotion when Trinity and Kate Rollins enter, wielding scoped assault rifles. My body betrays no sense of shock or surprise when the Rollins Sisters open fire and ceremoniously execute every single member of The Council. Only after every last member of The Council lies dead in front of my throne do I stand and whisper softly
Saint Gentlemen…you may call me Saint…
TO BE CONTINUED
…:::… …:::… …::: The Victims of the Streak :::… …:::… …:::… 1.) Shadow Demon- Revolution XX: A Night of Violence 2.) Shadow Demon- One World Nation 3.) Chuck Matthews- One World Nation 4.) Chad Mason- Resurrection of Respect 5.) Chuck Matthews- Revolution 34: Direct Hit: Super Six Mix 6.) Death-Angel- NLWF Pro Wrestling Summer Classic: Event I 7.) Nick Ridicule- Revolution 38: Road to the City of Evil 8.) Tim Patrick- Majority Rules 9.) Tim Patrick- Revolution 41/Global Takeover: Battle Behind Bars 10.) Shadow Demon- Heroes Also Die 11.) Steel Angel- Nowhere to Run
…:::… …:::… …::: The No-Decision :::… …:::… …:::…
1.) Death-Angel- Revolution 34: Direct Hit: Super Six Mix
...:::... ...:::... ...::: The Video Tribute :::... ...:::... ...:::...
…:::… …:::… …::: Sacrifice :::… …:::… …:::…
5 years
5 years I’ve been involved in the professional wrestling industry. I started out in a low ranking indy fed called New Age Wrestling and became the longest reigning Intercontinental Champion in that fed’s history. When NAW went under, I signed on with Ryan Apollos’ short lived Championship Wrestling Federation, again becoming the first and only Intercontinental Champion in that federation’s history. When Ryan Apollos ran out of money and couldn’t afford to keep CWF up and running anymore, Brenton Cyrus recruited me and the rest of the CWF roster and said we should join up with his renegade organization…
So I joined NLWF
For close to 3 years I gave NLWF pretty much everything I had. I was booked and wrestled on all but one Revolution…I fought on every single Pay Per View in any match that first Brenton Cyrus than Nick Ridicule could think up. I gave my blood, sweat, tears, and sanity for NLWF…only to have it all thrown back in my face when Nick closed down NLWF for good. I thought for sure that my career was over. I was a burned out husk of a man…unable to tell what was real from what was just figments of my imagination…I thought for sure that, after what I had gone through in NLWF, that I knew the meaning of the word “sacrifice”
According to Merriman-Webster Dictionary, “sacrifice” means:
1: An act of offering to a deity something precious; especially : the killing of a victim on an altar 2: something offered in sacrifice 3 a : destruction or surrender of something for the sake of something else b : something given up or lost
I thought that I had given NLWF all I had to offer. I had given NLWF 2 years of my time...I had given NLWF my sanity when Brenton tortured me and encouraged me to join Salvation and unleash the darkness that dwelled within me known as “The Lord”…I had given NLWF a seemingly insurmountable amount of money…hell, I even served time in a mental asylum because of NLWF. I thought that I had nothing more to give. I thought that literally I had given everything that I possibly could to NLWF and that there was no way I would ever give that much to another wrestling promotion ever again…
And then Chuck Matthews and I came up with an idea
Together with a little extra funding from Brandon Macdonald, Corey Casey and Chuck Matthews inked the papers that brought Insurgency Wrestling Federation to life. And with the birth of IWF came the re-birth of Corey Casey. From the second that I walked out from backstage at the TD Garden at the very first episode of Battle Grounds, I knew that IWF was a company that I would gladly sacrifice myself for in a heartbeat without even thinking twice about it. From the second that I sat at the head of the table at the very first IWF Board of Directors meeting, I knew that IWF was a company that I would gladly give myself to heart, body, and soul.
IWF is so much more than a wrestling promotion. IWF is a way of life. The fans that IWF attracts are so passionate and ready to support and believe in the company that sometimes it scares even me. The legions of cheering masses that wait to see their favorite IWF superstar when our plane landed during the Spring Fling Tour staggered me. The dedication and the heart that each and every IWF fan displays every time that IWF comes to their town is written on their faces whenever I look out at the masses that sell out arena after arena.
Now, with that being said, I know that I haven’t always been the beacon of truth and justice. I have shown the world that I am willing to do whatever it takes to achieve my goals. I have shown time and time again that I am willing to break the rules and do whatever is necessary to achieve the ends that I have my eyes set upon. Has that always made me the most liked and cheered guy on the roster? Nope. I used to be called “The Most Hated Man in Professional Wrestling” for a reason after all. Have I made a lot of friends over the course of my career? Nope. Brandon Macdonald and Robbie Hart are really the only two friends I have and, right now at least, Brandon and I aren’t really seeing eye to eye on a few matters. But no mater what I’ve done over the course of my career, I know that the fans have always seen one thing in me that keeps them either cheering or boo’ing me with every last breath in their lungs
Passion
I am passionate about my work. When I commit to doing something, I commit to accomplishing my goal physically, mentally, and emotionally. If I need to be hated, I make damn sure that I am the single most hated guy on the roster. If I need to be cheered, I do whatever I need to do in order to make sure that each and every IWF fan loves and cheers me. That’s one thing that, I believe at least, has set me apart from every single guy on the roster. I wear my passion right on my sleeve and I display that passion every single time I walk down to that ring.
Which brings me to Dan Alexander and Stygian…or, as I like to call them, “The Whore Brothers.”
Dan Alexander and Stygian are exactly the same. Both Dan and Stygian are incredibly gifted athletes. Dan Alexander is a submission expert, a guy who is well versed in not only MMA style fighting, but also has a solid wrestling skill set to fall back on. Stygian, on the other hand, is not only a shrewd businessman, but he’s also the best big man in the industry today. However, both of these guys are only out for one thing and one thing only…
A big pay day
Dan Alexander used to be a member of this company, however after he got into a tiff with upper management, Dan Alexander took his ball and went on the road, essentially becoming a hired gun for whoever wanted to meet his fucking insane demands. Dan likes to claim that his experience “wrestling in different companies all over the world has greatly expanded his horizons and made him more lethal than ever.” You know who else would agree with you? A fucking cheap whore. A whore would say that her experience getting stuffed multiple times a night makes her a valuable asset because she knows how to please you and can make sure you get your monies worth.
Stygian, much like Dan, also used to be a member of this company. However, after getting into an argument with Rick Christian which lead to his departure from the industry, Stygian went abroad. Styg took his talents to NJPW and to numerous other companies, becoming a sell sword to whoever could afford his services. Stygian likes to refer to himself as a mercenary…a guy who knows what he wants and won’t sign with a company unless the price is right…
Hhmmmm….let’s see here…Stygian won’t provide his services, which are of a physical nature, to a consumer unless the consumer is willing to pay a steep price in order to procure his physical services…
According to Merriman-Webster, a “prostitute” is…
pros•ti•tute verb \ˈpräs-tə-ˌtüt, -ˌtyüt\ transitive verb 1: to offer indiscriminately for sexual intercourse especially for money 2: to devote to corrupt or unworthy purposes : debase
Yup, I’d certainly say that Stygian and Dan Alexander both fall under the umbrella of the second definition wouldn’t you all agree?
I meant every single fucking word that I said at Isolation. There isn’t a single fucking person that has sacrificed what I have sacrificed for IWF. I had to take out massive loans to pony up my part of the money it took to found IWF in the first place. I have to constantly spend entirely too much time away from Jess and my two children, who probably get to see me only a few weeks out of the year. I didn’t even get to fucking see my own kid’s first steps or hear them say their first words because I was on the road with IWF, making sure everything was running smoothly and making sure that I was on hand in case something went wrong. I allowed myself to transform back into “The Lord” when Chuck Matthews approached me about forming Se7en. I have bled gallons of blood for IWF and for each and every one of the fans out there who believes in IWF as a company.
I have never looked back and never even thought twice about sacrificing for this company. I have always done what I needed to do in order to ensure that IWF continues to grow, thrive, and survive each and every week. Ironically enough, however, I never even truly realized how massive of an impact this company has had on me until Stygian actually pointed it out two weeks ago on Battle Grounds
”Stygian” wrote:
The three of you? The Holy Trinity of IWF? Chuck was the brain. Brandon was the face. But you, Corey Casey…you are the Heart of IWF
You know something Styg, you’re right. Chuck Matthews is definitely the brain of IWF, making sure that ME continues to carry Battle Grounds each week. Chuck is also a savvy businessman who is the owner of the largest entertainment media empire in the world today. Brandon Macdonald is definitely the face of IWF. Brandon is the guy we send out when we need someone to talk to the press. Brandon is the guy who does the schmoozing for IWF and who goes out and uses his connections with film industries and with other wrestling promotions to help get IWF’s reputation out there.
However, as you said Stygian, Corey Casey is definitely the heart of IWF…the passion of IWF…the driving force that refuses to let this fucking company die. I am also the man who will be it’s protector…I will protect IWF from whores like Dan Alexander, who has only returned to make sure that his name is back in the spotlight.
Dannyboy, let’s be fucking honest man…you’re only back here because you missed working for the biggest and most successful wrestling promotion on the fucking planet. You’re only back here because you want a shot at being the man who finally breaks the legendary 5 year streak of Corey Casey. You want to be the man who gets to bask in the sunlight and receive all of the attention again when you become the man who snaps the 11-0-1 streak.
What’s the matter Dan? Not receiving enough attention or spotlight in all the other companies you were working for? What’s the matter Dan, did you forget something when you left IWF and went to travel the world, becoming “more experienced” and “broadening your horizons?” Dan Alexander, you’re nothing more than a fucking parasite, trying to fucking mooch off of the spotlight and the glory that IWF has earned a thousand times over since you’ve been gone.
Dan…you aren’t even worth to step into the ring with me…never step into the ring inside of the Double Cage Horror. 11 men, some better than you could ever hope to be, have tried and failed over and over and over again to end the single most impressive streak in professional wrestling. I am undefeated inside of the Double Cage Horror over the span of 5 years. I am 11-0-1, turning back the challenges of the greatest competitors that professional wrestling has to offer…some more than once! And yet here you are, showing the world what an egotistical fucking moron you are, saying that you are going to be the one to bring an end to my streak?
Not only are you a whore…but you’re a dumb whore…
This week, Corey Casey dons the mantel of “Defender of IWF.” This week, I begin to surgically remove all of those who suck the life blood from IWF for no reason other than to make themselves richer or to bask in the sunlight while giving nothing back in return.
It starts with the fucking egotistical spotlight whore Dan Alexander
And ends at Ragnarok when I bring Stygian’s world crashing down around his ears and take back what rightfully belongs to IWF and its fans
Subject: Act One: A Saint's Saving Grace 
Wed May 30, 2012 9:39 am
