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 Remington's Storyline

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Alexander Remington

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Posts : 100
Join date : 2012-06-29
Age : 32

Wrestler Stats
IWF Record: 00-00-00
Alignment: In Between

PostSubject: Remington's Storyline   Sat Jan 05, 2013 1:50 am

In this thread, I'm just gonna copy/paste the text from my rps which deal with my outside storyline. It's requested you read as I post originally, as even my outside CD will DIRECTLY impact Remington the wrestler, as I prefer to keep everything at least somewhat relevant, but now that I've decided to at least introduce a bit of a fantasy element in my rps, and given that I've been through this before with people coming in and asking me to explain what happened in the past (I won't do it this time around as that was a headache), I'm just going to copy/paste entire scenes where storyline events happen. Again, I'm keeping it all relevant to wrestling despite the craziness that will inevitably happen, as I want to make damn sure it affects Remington the person/wrestler as well, as I think you'll see it will. Those of you who have fedded with me in the past can attest to that fact as well Very Happy

Again, I'm gonna copy/paste entire scenes, so wrestling talk will be intertwined sometimes with the CD, but that's intended. I'll post the html'ed version if there was one (if I write a rp on the boards), if not, I will copy/paste the link to my rp as well as the relevant text.

Anyways, here we go!

____________________________________________________________________________







Career Record
49/07/01

IWF Achievements
1x IWF champion [12/23/12 - 2/24/13]
2012-2013 IWF Wrestler of the Year

Defeated:
Alexander Raven (x2)
Baron Tomson
Parker Wayde (x3)
David Bable
Silas Romero
Eric Steel
Jack Savage


[02:13:50] Alexander Remington : i know approx. 25ish years ago, her family did the worst thing ever
[02:13:59] Alexander Remington : had sex and decided against an abortion

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Alexander Remington

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Posts : 100
Join date : 2012-06-29
Age : 32

Wrestler Stats
IWF Record: 00-00-00
Alignment: In Between

PostSubject: Re: Remington's Storyline   Sat Jan 05, 2013 1:53 am

December 16, 2012
Chiapas, Mexico
Off Camera



The sun rose over the city of Chiapas, Mexico - a city impoverished and hungry for a change. As the day broke, many would walk to their places of business, if they had anywhere to go, that is. I had taken a private puddle-jumper to a small landing strip about fifty miles out of town, having received an invitation from someone I knew all too well. A small yellow and brown cab of sorts was waiting to pick me up, and despite the stench which emanated from the back seat, I reluctantly hopped in, riding all the way into Chiapas, nearly gagging due to the smells of both the driver and his old dirty car.

"This is the place; you can stop here," I spoke aloud to the driver, making sure that he heard me as the car came to a screeching halt in front of a small bar on the outskirts of town. There were no roads in this area, only dirt paths which allowed for traffic to go through the city. Sure, there were certain parts of town that were for the more influential and esteemed population, but my business on this day was not of comfort in the least. I opened the cab door, closing it quickly behind me as the driver sped away toward his next pick-up as I had a look around me. Several small ones were playing in the street; kicking a couple of rusty cans around and seeming like they were having a grand time.

Such youthful innocence; I wonder at what point that left me.

I certainly stood out amongst the local folk - several turned to look at the man clad in a white button down shirt tucked into a pair of brown trousers and similarly colored shoes, choosing to leave my suit at home because of the heat. I felt naked, especially as their stares caught my line of vision, knowing I wasn't the type of customer they would normally see in these parts. But I walked to the bar, sitting on one of the stools as I crossed my arms atop the counter, waiting for someone to arrive.


"What'll it be,"the mustached bartender spoke to me while cleaning out the inside of a glass with a dirty washrag, leaving me with little confidence about the cleanliness of such an establishment. In the corner of the bar was a small television, airing some baseball game from a few days prior; a couple of the patrons losing themselves at the bottom of the glass as they talked about the good ol' days. Good ol' days, as if they ever had them.

"Tequila, keep em' comin'," I replied, looking from side to side as I wondered where my company might be. I was sure this was the place - he gave me a picture and all, and this was the right time, so where could he be? The bartender handed me my drink as I had my first taste, from time to time eyeing the television set out of pure boredom.

Baseball - a pussy's game.

Finally, someone tapped me on the shoulder, slumbering atop the stool beside me - a familiar and expected face. He too was well-dressed, calling the bartender by name - the bartender in turn seemed to know exactly what he'd be ordering and slid him a glass as well.


"It's like seeing a ghost," I said with a sly grin, slamming down another shot of Tequila as I turned toward the man, staring straight ahead of him as I stayed leaning against the bar-top. My back turned toward the sun, I could begin to feel the heat against the long straight scars left on my back due to the assault from the Empire a couple of weeks ago, causing me to wince with pain for a moment while the pain subsided. "And yet, I would have thought you to choose more...habitable conditions."

It looked like a third-world country from all that I could see, shaking my head with slight disgust and almost a bit of pity for those who were cursed with such a lifestyle.

"Eh, you get used to it after a while," he said to me, slamming down a shot of his own as the bartender poured us a couple more. "Besides, it's not completely an impoverished city; there are those of us who are still treated like kings."

"A king in a kingdom like this? Hardly seems worth it."

"You make do with what you've got - can't exactly afford to be seen anymore, at least by anybody who matters."

He sighed as he took another shot, staring down at his feet as though he were remembering a past in which he didn't need to live the life of an exile, shaking his head as the barkeep gave him another shot.

"I had it all. Money, power, fame - I wanted for nothing. But because of one mistake, I'm forced to live this life; I'm forced to resign to hiding for the rest of my life. It truly is a shame."

He look at me with a dejected look; something I hadn't seen from him in quite a long time, not since his wife died unexpectedly. His name was Mark Mayer - to the wrestling world, he was known as Powerhouse; a legendary force that hasn't been seen in quite some time, but to me, he was the man that took me into his home when my father left me at his doorstep. He raised me as his own; he called me his son. He may not have been the perfect father - wrestling kept him away from home for most of the year, and the rare moments in which he was home, he was far too tired and hurt to manage our relationship - but nevertheless, he is the man that took me in and my reason for even getting into this business in the first place. And now, he was an exile. The story is long, but to make it short, he got in trouble with the wrong kind of men, and now even all the connections in the world that he had couldn't protect him from those who were searching for him. Some of those connections were the very rats that caused him to have to flee the States for this desolate place.

"Sometimes I wish I had given my life solely to the ring - it was my sanctuary. The one place in the world where I felt like a god. The one place in the world I was at peace. But I was convinced by a higher power than I that His way was the path of greatness, and I lusted after that power. My greed overcame me, and I made some choices that I now regret. I wish I had killed Him when I had the chance. Instead, Dana's blood is on my hands, and I'm stuck drinking at a run-down bar in the middle of nowhere..."

He slammed down another shot, waving off the bartender as he offered to pour him another one, at the very least understanding his limits. The barkeep walked away, tending to the other few patrons on the other side of the bar.

"Sorry for the sob story; I guess when you're in a place like this, the bartender is your only friend, and Miguel over here isn't the best listener. What about you Alex? UECW treating you well?"

I ran my fingers through my hair, realizing that it had indeed been that long since I had spoken to him.

"The winds of time have changed and so has my place of employment. UECW crashed and burned - incompetant leadership and a lack of a roster did her in. I'm in the Insurgency now, and it..."

He interrupted me, giving me a stern look of disapproval.

"The Insurgency. Isn't that the place that..."

My turn for interruptions.

"Yes father, the place that Stygian resides. Now I don't want you to think..."

More interruptions. He never was in favor for my bitter quarrel with the man once known as the Black Dragon.


"Your quarrel with this man is going to lead to your downfall. You know how I feel about this...Stygian."

I shook my head, just laughing a bit to myself, shrugging my shoulders before responding.

"Stygian is no longer an adversary of mine. Quite the opposite really. Just a few weeks ago, he had to watch as a bohemath of a man annhilated his two ladies, and perhaps it was then that I found compassion in my heart. Maybe it was because of what happened to Melissa," I said, referring to the untimely passing of my first wife and the circumstances surrounding her death; the details of which are not very important to this particular tale. "But I saw that look of desperation in his eyes, and maybe for one split second, I realized that this battle between he and I pales in comparison to the issues he and I face on a daily basis. He's a man that needed my help, and I offered it to him..."

"Like offering ammunition to the enemy," he sternly responded.

"Like understanding that even in the most vile of us, there is still a human being within. Besides, I have no time for wars against men like that. I've got enough on my plate as it is; what with an entire Empire waging a holy war against me, trying to take me down for what they believed to be an act of betrayal on my part. An evil dictator in Corey Casey who is hellbent on getting his revenge; an opportunity to take the one thing that gives them credibility - the IWF championship - away from them in one single night, but a match that I have no doubt will be anything but fair for my part. I'm no fool Mark - just like they stole that championship using the strength of their numbers, they will attempt the same with me, and I begin to wonder whether the odds truly are stacked against me - whether this time, it will be too much to overcome."

I watched as he furrowed his eyebrows, immediately ordering another couple of shots. He unbuttoned his cuffs, rolling them up a bit, giving himself some relief from the scorching heat.

"But you have allies too, right? What about Griffin Hawkins," he shuddered, never really liking the man for some reason or another, always stating that he thought Hawkins was weak or that he lacked a spine; et cetera. I had given up on trying to convince him otherwise. But now, was he really suggesting that he hoped that Griffin Hawkins had my back? "I may not like the man, but he seems to be one that would fight tooth and nail on your behalf. Surely against an army like you describe, you'll have friends who will go to battle for you through thick and thin."

"Not quite," I sharply responded, shaking my head slowly. "I've gained a lot of enemies over the years, but not many a friend. Thing is, over the years, I've made some business decisions for the betterment of my career, and quite often," I said with a slight chuckle, not really remorseful for my actions, but understanding that everything was now coming around full circle, "they are to the detremint of others. Oh, don't look at me like that Mark, you were the exact same way. I may have Hawkins, and he might convince Tiffani to fight along his side, but even she, I fear, doesn't really trust me in the least. I don't talk to her, mind you, but the way she looks at me, I can tell she either wants to fuck my brains out or thinks that I'm just using Hawkins for my own advantage, and something tells me that taking me to bed is not on her list of priorities. No, I have heard rumblings of those who wish to stand against the powerful alliance of the Empire, but not for my sake. And because of this, I fear that I am nearly alone in this company, and this is my own fight to handle."

Mark looked at me with concern. Having been in the wrestling business for quite a long time, he understood the ins and the outs of it probably more than others, including myself. He understood the politics which would take place behind the scenes, and the gang warfare that would quite often happen even while the cameras were rolling. This wasn't an uncommon situation for him to hear about, but still, concern flooded his face as he looked back at me.

"Walk with me," he simply responded.

Mark reached quickly into his pants pocket, taking out his wallet and tossing a couple of bills onto the counter; plenty enough to pay for the drinks which we had consumed. I stood up along with him, walking away from the bar and down a small dirt road just a couple of blocks away from where we originally sat.

"This...this Empire, where are its weaknesses?"

I shrugged my shoulders, not really getting where he was going with this, but I decided to oblige him anyway.

"Corey Casey."

"And their strengths?"

I chuckled a bit to myself, shaking my head slowly.

"Corey Casey."

I paused for a moment, thinking over what I had said, deciding I had better explain to him my reasoning for such a response.

"Corey Casey is volatile. Corey Casey is prone to overreacting to the smallest little thing, and that could lead to his downfall. He sees trouble on the horizon, and oftentimes, he will overcorrect to try to fix the problem. He's highly reactionary, and sometimes I feel as though he isn't quite right in the head. But yet..."

I stopped walking down the dirt path, leaning my back against the wall of the building next to me, thinking for a moment.

"But yet, sometimes it seems as though he is more of an intellect than any of us give him credit for. It's like the moment you think he doesn't know what's going on; the moment you think he's lost all touch with reality, he'll surprise you as it'll appear as though he were pulling the strings all along. This has always been my greatest strength - manipulation and always being several steps ahead of those who come against me, but maybe I have met my match."

However, through all of this dismay, I couldn't help but crack a smile.

"Yet, you always taught me to always have a plan B - a contingency if you will. And I have set several things in motion, and where Corey Casey may think that he has all the cards stacked up against me, I have a couple of aces up my sleeve. I didn't leave the Empire without thinking ahead...I knew their attacks would be swift, and their fury strong. It appears that I may have underestimated just how strong they were..."

I turned my back to Mark, lifting my shirt in the back, showing the long streaks of scars left on my back from the Catonine whip that was wedged into my skin on multiple occasions.

"Jesus..."

"But if you think for one second that I didn't realize that I would need help in this battle; if you think that my ego is too much for me to understand that I can't fight this battle on my own, you'd be sorely mistaken. I may have gained quite the score of enemies in my lifetime, but there are still those in this world that I believe I can rely on when the days grow darker and the battles become more fierce. There aren't many that I can still call friends, but there are several that I can, at the very least, call allies."

I watched as a couple of cheap cars drove down the dirt path we were originally walking on, thinking about New Year's Evil and what was about to take place.

"New Year's Evil will simply be the beginning of what will be a long and arduous war. I'm counting on Brandon MacDonald to bring Axle Vengeance down a few..."

Mark quickly interrupted.

"Did you just say Axle Vengeance? As in the man you retired a year or so ago? I thought he was off drowning his sorrows at the bottom of the bottle."

Mark laughed, causing me to chuckle a bit to myself as well, but I was no fool. I understood the seriousness of the issue; Axle Vengeance, no pun intended, would come against me with the utmost of vengeance. Whether for hatred for me, or purely for his ultimate quest for redemption, my story with Axle Vengeance was far from over.

"One in the same. It seems that of late, several adversaries from my past have 'conveniently' arisen from the ashes and joined the Insurgency. Alexander Raven was the first, and I took care of that nagging issue, but it didn't stop there. Suddenly with the arrival of Axle Vengeance and Ashe Corvin..."

Mark scowled, having a long history with Ashe - part of which I was familiar with.

"I am beginning to wonder whether this is more than just coincidence and perhaps a bit of a conspiracy is being formed against me - I wouldn't put it past Corey Casey after all. Hell, I wouldn't be surprised if one day, he made a phone call to..."

I paused, shaking my head and shrugging my shoulders, dismissing the notion.

"No, that could never happen. He'll never be seen again. Nevertheless, I find myself for the first time constantly looking over my shoulder, wondering from which direction the fight will come against me next. I feel as though there is no one I can trust, even those that I have considered my friends for a lifetime. After all, it was once said that everybody has a price, and furthermore, every man or woman out there would be more than happy to take the opportunity to remove me from the business altogether. Perhaps Griffin Hawkins all along is the only man in this world that I know has my back through thick and thin, for no matter what I have brought against him or said to him, he has always had my back in the darkest hour."

I sighed, realizing how dire the situation was, and how the odds were certainly stacked against me, but overcoming the odds was something I had made a career out of to this point. I wasn't going to just give up now.

"I need to believe that Brandon MacDonald will humble Axle Vengeance, because if Axle Vengeance is able to defeat Brandon, it will give him something that he hasn't had in quite some time - faith. He may shout from the rooftops that he is the 'motherfucking' greatest, but I know that deep down in his heart, he has begun to question whether that is really the case. But for me, I can only concern myself with Parker Wayde."

"Who?"

We began to walk down the narrow path once more, passing by several who were giving us awkward gazes; the two of us certainly stood out in a crowd riddled with poverty and despair.

"Parker Wayde, the Dragonslayer," I said, obviously sarcastic in my tone.

"You mean, he beat..."

"Well, sort of. It wasn't like he beat Stygian on his own; he had the help of the entire Empire aiding him. But if you ask him, he'll tell you that he single-handedly took down Stygian with his own two hands; that he climbed up to Blackrock Spire and did the unthinkable. Parker Wayde may be talented at what he does, but he is no champion."

I sighed, turning with Mark as we headed down another dirt path. There were a line of old slapped-together homes by the looks of things and I still felt as though many watchful eyes were pressing upon us.

"But I'm not fighting Parker Wayde; I'm fighting the Empire. I'm not stupid - I have no doubt they'll get involved in our match, and I know of a surety that they will do anything in their power to keep me from being the IWF champion. But I HAVE to walk out of New Year's Evil with the championship around my waist. If I lose, my credibility as a professional wrestler will be shot. There will be no epic battles with Axle Vengeance. There will be no future Armageddon with Stygian, if he is ever to be Stygian again as I have come to know him. I'll just be that guy who had his opportunity and blew it. I'll be the guy who had Corey Casey in my back pocket and lost that advantage due to poor choices on my behalf. Everything I've done since the beginning of my time in the Insurgency will be for naught, and I'll be nothing but a laughingstock. It doesn't matter if I'm fighting the entire Empire - if this battle is one versus one hundred - I have no other option than to remove that championship from Parker Wayde's waist by force. I have a mandate to become IWF's new beacon of hope."

We turned down yet another path, but this time began to walk towards one of the homes on that path. It was a nicer place than those we had seen before, but nothing that stood out too much from the rest. We approached the door and Mark turned to face me.

"I wish I could be there to lend you a hand, Alexander, but obviously circumstances seem to be quite a bit more restrictive than I would prefer. I don't even feel like I can take a piss without feeling like someone's eyes are upon me. But having been in this situation countless times before in my career, I can offer you a word of advice."

He placed his hand on my shoulder, staring at me directly.

"Don't let the gravity of the situation get to you. Don't enter that ring looking over your shoulder at those who are on the outside looking in. Don't treat this as a war of you versus the Empire. You are in that ring for one purpose and one purpose alone, and that is to become the IWF champion. Let circumstances fall as they may, but there will always be those who will lend their hand in battle, even if you do not see them as your friends. I know not of the details of your specific situation, but even when the odds seemingly are stacked against you, there are likely to be many who will not hesitate to assist you in destroying the Empire. Your circumstances may differ, but your purpose needs to be aligned, and in that hour, I pray that you do not refuse their help due to your incessant need to do things on your own."

He was right, though I would hesitate to ever admit that fact. There were others in IWF who would be more than willing to fight against the Empire, even if I could never consider them my friends, but was my need to do things on my own clouding my judgment? Was my ego really too big at this stage to accept help when offered?

I nodded my head in semi-agreement, but I knew there was much thought to be had regarding his advice. I knew that I couldn't focus on the dire circumstances, only allowing myself to set my sights on Parker Wayde and his championship, but I couldn't help but realize that this fight would not be just between he and I. Parker Wayde was too much of a coward to fight on his lonesome - no matter how much I could try to coax him into being a man, the long yellow streak running down his back was far too illuminated for him ever to hide.

Mark finally took a key out of his pocket, unlocking the door to his home and allowing me inside, closing it behind me after having a look around, making sure no one saw him, though the reason for this, I wasn't fully aware. I made my way to a small circular wooden table, having a seat at one of the chairs; the lights dim in his house as he sat down across from me.


"But you invited me to Mexico for a reason. Somehow, given our history, I don't imagine that you would do so purely to make small talk and catch up. We never were really ones to waste our time on simple chat. So why don't you tell me what this is really about?"

His stoic face turned sour as he looked at me from across the table, folding his arms together as he leaned forward a bit; the silence telling as I waited for him to respond.

"Alex, the world is changing," he started, speaking almost in a monotone, speaking softly as though someone could be listening even though it was a virtual impossibility. "I don't know how to say any of this without sounding like I've lost my mind, but there are forces in this world that the public just isn't aware of. And if they were, it would cause mass chaos incomparable."

"What in the hell are you talking about," I said, leaning back in my chair as I tried to even remotely comprehend what he was telling me about.

"I've been on the run for far too long, but I fear my time on this earth has almost come to an end. I was asked to fulfill a certain purpose, and now I am no longer considered necessary to the cause."

"Cause? What cause," I interrogated Mark further; the cryptic speech he was spewing causing more confusion than clarity.

"The men that are chasing me are not seeking me for any crime that I have committed, nor for any wrongs I have allowed to happen on my watch. They aren't of any government, though they do have more control over the inner workings of world governments than anyone could possibly imagine. They exist in the shadows. They don't seek to incarcerate me; they seek to interrogate me. They believe I have answers to their many questions."

"What the fuck..."

I couldn't believe a word that he was saying, standing up from my chair and turning my back to him, trying to think about all that he had said. It didn't make sense. I had been a part of multiple governmental agencies in my early years as a man, and never had I heard of anything like this.

"I guess the next thing you're going to tell me is that this group is the Illuminati," I said with obvious sarcasm, rolling my eyes now as I turned to face Mark once more, resting my hands on the top of the wooden chair I once was sitting upon, hovering over it now.

"It doesn't matter what you call them, but they do exist. They believe in a power that once resided on this planet; an energy that they think could bring the Elite immortality; eternal life."

"That's nonsense," I said with a sigh, but looking at his face, it didn't seem that he was wavering in the least. "Right?"

Mark stared back at me for a couple of moments, closing his eyes for a moment before opening them again.

"I never told you why I was away for so many months at a time. Professional wrestling, to me, was nothing more than a front for something much larger than this. I've seen the things that are secret to many. For centuries, many have sought eternal life, but they know not for what they ask. There comes a price that we must all pay for such greed; a price that I thought I was willing to bear at one point."

He looked up at me, realizing that I thought that he had gone mad. He quickly stood to his feet, elevating his voice.

"Damnit, this is real Alexander, and it's now become your burden to carry. Or at least it will be yours to carry one day. These men, they think they are merely seeking an energy; a gift that was presumably given since the beginning of time to those who found it. But what they seek is no energy. What they seek will cause mass destruction if they ever are able to find it. And I'll go to the grave to protect that which they seek after. I've seen His face and I know His ways, and I sacrificed everything to keep Him at bay. But I fear that all of my effort may be in vain."

He paused for a moment, somber in tone as he continued to speak to me.

"I know that it is a lot to process. And I never would wish to bear this burden upon you. And hopefully, I can put this to an end once and for all and you'll never have to concern yourself with these matters. But even now, I feel His presence all around me. I feel His strength already growing on the earth."

"Who? Whose strength? Whose presence? I know you are not a God-fearing man, so I know that you're not being just a typical religious zealot that would be so naive and misunderstanding of the truth. Who is this that you speak of?"

"His name is Sevelus, and that is all I will tell you on this day. There was a time in which I believe in His purpose and I served Him fully, and that would prove to be the biggest mistake of my life. I hope that you never have to bend the knee to His will; I hope that you never have to be part of the life I once lived, but if that day happens, in your darkest hour, your true father will be the one that will give you guidance."

"But my father...he's dead."

I had never met my father, but I had been told many stories about him from my youth, oftentimes thinking that Mark was over-exaggerating the truth just a bit when it came to matters concerning him. I finally saw a smile form over Mark's face as he relaxed, something bringing him great comfort in this situation. He leaned back in his chair, calmly speaking to me now.

"All, as I said, is not how it seems in this world. Bacchus will never die; he simply exists."

And so this chapter of the story would end. I still couldn't fathom what Mark was talking about, nor would I even begin to try, even as I laid in my bed in one of his guest bedrooms, staring at the ceiling. Was this the real life? Or was this just make-believe; a conspiracy formed in the mind of a man who had been on the run for far too long? I finally closed my eyes and fell asleep, hoping that I would never have to discover the answers to those questions.

____________________________________________________________________________







Career Record
49/07/01

IWF Achievements
1x IWF champion [12/23/12 - 2/24/13]
2012-2013 IWF Wrestler of the Year

Defeated:
Alexander Raven (x2)
Baron Tomson
Parker Wayde (x3)
David Bable
Silas Romero
Eric Steel
Jack Savage


[02:13:50] Alexander Remington : i know approx. 25ish years ago, her family did the worst thing ever
[02:13:59] Alexander Remington : had sex and decided against an abortion

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View user profile
Alexander Remington

avatar

Posts : 100
Join date : 2012-06-29
Age : 32

Wrestler Stats
IWF Record: 00-00-00
Alignment: In Between

PostSubject: Re: Remington's Storyline   Sat Jan 05, 2013 1:54 am

http://siw-alexremington.webs.com/Remington76.htm


December 20, 2012
Los Angeles, California
Off Camera

"Mr. Remington, we need to talk."

Three men in solid black suits made their way into my home; the last shutting the door quietly behind him as they nearly surrounded me in a triangular type fashion. They all wore similarly shaded dark sunglasses; white button down shirts - you get the idea. One would imagine them to be of some kind of government agency, but something seemed off about this whole situation to me. Perhaps years of actually working from government agency to government agency made me realize that none of this felt like proper protocol or procedure, and I certainly didn't feel as though this was just an ordinary visit.

"What is all of this about," I said with a bit of frustration in my tone, an appropriate response to three men looking like the fucking Men in Black waltzing into my living room without explanation. "Do you have a warrant? Do you have a reason for being here? Hell, do you even have a name?"

The three men glanced at each other and for a minute or so, they didn't say a word; standing there like statues around me, obviously trying to intimidate me by their stoic nature. Finally, the bald-headed individual of the three stepped forward, staring straight at me as he spoke for the first time to me.

"We have no warrant, nor do we need one. We do most certainly have a reason for being here, but that is not for you to be told. And yes, all three of us indeed have names, however, to you that is of little significance. Mr. Remington," he said coldly, almost in a monotone as he spoke directly to me, "why did you catch a plane to Chiapas just a few days ago?"

"I had a craving for chalupas; what the fuck does it matter to you," I spoke with disdain for the question, but part of me was wary of giving the actual reason for being there and what had taken place. Just days ago, I had spoken with my father, who along with giving me advice for this stage of my wrestling career revealed to me a long kept secret, the truth of which I was unsure of. But he had told me of the men who had been searching for him, and warned me that I too may be in danger of being involved, and now I realized that his prophecy of sorts may have been true.

The man scoffed, reaching into his briefcase and pulling out a manila folder, laying it flat on the coffee table in front of my couch.

"Clever Mr. Remington, but we're not here to jest. What we have approached you with today is a very serious matter of national security. We believe that you went down to Mexico to speak to one, Mark Mayer. Is that correct?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," I said in response, knowing quite well that he knew the answer to that very question, or at the very least, he had strong reason to believe that. "It's been nearly a year since I've seen him," I lied, hoping that they would believe me and just walk away.

Fat chance of that happening.

"Mhm, I see," he stated, looking me over as he studied my appearance, maintaining my composure so as to not give away any verbal ticks. "In that case, perhaps you could tell us about your little rendezvous in Madrid a month or so ago."

Shit.

For those who do not remember the tale, I will narrate it quickly for those reading this today. About a year or so ago, my career was likely ended by the hands of Alexander Raven; a bat to the back of my head causing so much brain damage that I could hardly walk much less pretend that I'd ever compete within the squared circle again. But Eric Telfor, a man that I had known for quite some time through my time in UECW, had the means and the capability to offer me a solution to recover my health and my career - some kind of experimental surgery that he vowed would work. And it did. But in return, he said that I would owe him a favor at the time of his choosing. That time came a couple of months ago when he asked me to use my training from a previous occupation that will remain classified for now to track and to...incapacitate...a certain individual who Eric claimed to have dirt on him personally which would destroy him. I had no other choice, for Eric also had dirt on me; information from many years ago that, in turn, would destroy me as well.

I owe Eric Telfor no favors anymore.

I stared at the manila folder as the bald-headed man leaned down and opened it slowly, showing multiple pictures of me in Madrid; of me in the same room as the man that I, well, incapacitated. I thought there was no way that I could have been seen...it was a clean job through and through.

I glared up at the man, not saying a word, but I knew he could tell from my face that what he wanted to accomplish had been done. A wry smile formed over his face as he slowly removed his sunglasses, placing them within his coat pocket; the two other men standing idle by his side.

"Mr. Remington, I don't wish to expose you for the heinous act that you committed in Madrid. In fact, I don't really care about all of that, but the truth of the matter is, we are in need of finding Mark Mayer. We know that you visited him in Chiapas just a few days ago, but yet again, he has vanished. His home was empty. He's like a ghost, but we know that you'll cooperate fully with our investigation."

"Who are you," I repeated my question from before, muttering under my breath as I realized I didn't have much of a choice in the matter at this point. If what I had done was ever exposed, a lengthy prison sentence would be all that I would be looking forward to for the rest of my life.

"We are simply three guys trying to do our job, Mr. Remington. Mark Mayer has answers to our questions that need answering, but for some reason, he continues to avoid us like the plague. We're not the bad guys here," he tried to reason with me, not sure if I could ever believe a word he was saying.

"The truth is, I have no idea where he is," I said calmly, trying to figure out how I could get out of this mess without exposing Mark's location, but I truthfully didn't know where he could have gone if he indeed left Chiapas. "He contacts me; I don't have any way possible to contact him."

"See, was that so hard," the man smiled, leaning over and picking up the manila folder, hiding it away in his briefcase. "Since we've had a very long trip and wouldn't want to waste our time, why don't you give us some information about what he told you while you were there."

"We talked about our wrestling careers," I spoke in half-truths, starting to believe that maybe what Mark had told me wasn't so crazy after all, but still, the idea of some higher entity resurrecting seemed a bit absurd to me even still. "About what's been happening with mine; parallels with his."

"Is that so? And what else, Mr. Remington."

"That's it," I fibbed, keeping as good of a straight face as I possibly could muster. "That was all that he would say to me," I said, realizing there was no way they could believe me at this point. Deciding to spin them in another direction at least, I stated, "He seemed a bit standoffish though. As though he were keeping something from me. I wanted to ask him what was troubling him, but he and I weren't really ever much of conversationalists. Always kept to himself; always was away on the road so much as I grew up that I never became all that close to him to begin with. Look, we didn't have a heart to heart, okay. I don't know what information you seek, but I don't know anything. And that's the truth," I lied.

Disappointment covered his face as he placed his sunglasses over his eyes again, sighing as he gave me one last glance.

"Mr. Remington, all that you need to know is that Mark Mayer holds vital information that would be to the benefit of our nation's security. I believe there was a time where you stood up for the red, white, and blue. Anything he has told you or will tell you in the future is a lie, and we simply want to talk to him because we believe he can be persuaded to help us all out for the betterment of our country. As I stated, we are not the bad guys Mr. Remington."

He paused for a moment. I didn't believe a word he was saying, but could it be even remotely possible that what he was saying could be true? Could Mark possibly be mistaken when it came to the purpose of these individuals standing before me this day?

"I trust you'll do the right thing, Mr. Remington. For your nation. For the citizens of the United States of America. And in return, we'll forget that Madrid even happened," he said with a wry smile, trying to make his threat seem casual in nature, but his tone was fierce and biting, and I knew that this would not be a problem that would go away.

"That sounds like a threat."

"Oh no, not at all Mr. Remington. Just look at it as a mere insurance policy and added motivation in case doing the right thing isn't in your repertoire any longer," he said coldly, but I could sort through the niceties to smell the bullshit.

"And how would I get in touch with you if ever I do come to find out where he's at," I said, hoping to find out more information about who I was dealing with in the meantime; hoping for a mistake from this fellow to let me in on his location or specifically who exactly these men were.

"We will keep in touch with you, Mr. Remington. Good day."

And as quickly as the three men walked into my penthouse, they exited, closing the door quietly behind them as they departed my sight. I stood in the middle of my living room absolutely appalled and flabbergasted, unsure of whom these men were and how exactly I was going to finagle my way out of this situation. I had spoken the truth; I knew not the present whereabouts of my adoptive father, and I wouldn't ever know this information unless he reached out to me again.

I knew the truth though - ultimately, I had but one option. Turn in Mark Mayer.

_________________________________

____________________________________________________________________________







Career Record
49/07/01

IWF Achievements
1x IWF champion [12/23/12 - 2/24/13]
2012-2013 IWF Wrestler of the Year

Defeated:
Alexander Raven (x2)
Baron Tomson
Parker Wayde (x3)
David Bable
Silas Romero
Eric Steel
Jack Savage


[02:13:50] Alexander Remington : i know approx. 25ish years ago, her family did the worst thing ever
[02:13:59] Alexander Remington : had sex and decided against an abortion

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Alexander Remington

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Posts : 100
Join date : 2012-06-29
Age : 32

Wrestler Stats
IWF Record: 00-00-00
Alignment: In Between

PostSubject: Re: Remington's Storyline   Sun Jan 06, 2013 8:35 pm

http://siw-alexremington.webs.com/Remington77.htm

January 3, 2013
Los Angeles, California
Off-Camera

The dawning of a new year brought quite the change to my life, as it had been quite a long time since I had felt the comforts of a World Championship around my waist. Yet, my mind was elsewhere. There were no parties or mass celebrations following my victory at New Year's Evil; it was business as usual as I walked away from the arena and drove to the place I was staying. Sure, happiness did not elude me on that night, but given the events which had taken place in my life over the past few weeks, I hadn't the time or the energy to really appreciate the changes in my professional life.

I remained in Los Angeles for the entirety of my time following New Year's Evil. I didn't celebrate the new year with friends, despite Griffin Hawkins' incessant need to call me every five seconds about the ball dropping in New York as though it were something new that had never happened before in the history of these United States. I kept wholly to myself, giving myself time for rest and relaxation whilst also not trying to think about the revelations given to me by my adoptive father and the visitation of the three men in suits just a couple of weeks prior. I buried my head within the pages of a book, I quenched my thirst with any type of alcoholic beverage available, and then I would fall fast asleep. But every night, the moment before I would fall asleep and the moment before I would awaken, I would hear a small soft voice - a whisper.

"Alexander..."

It would startle me as I would awaken, sitting upright in the bed, fully expecting someone to be standing over me, but alas, such an image would never be seen. I almost welcomed the visitation as the voice continued to whisper in my ear, but never would I ascertain the source. Perhaps it was but a beginning or an end of a dream that continued to replay through my mind, and this would be my explanation, but every night for two weeks, I would hear my name repeated in that same soft voice - a peculiar occurrence that I wished would cease to exist.

Not for this reason, however, did I pay a visit to my long-time psychologist in Los Angeles, Katarina Schmidt. I had made it a custom to pay her a visit every couple of months or so ever since I left Forces, if nothing more than to have someone to talk to through my issues and problems. She charged a pretty penny, but she was worth every dime. Sometimes, we would just talk about life, and sometimes just that would allow me an escape from everything that had surrounded me. I had been through the deaths of two women that I had loved. I had seen things that no man should ever see; heard things that none should hear, and Katarina was understanding and helpful through it all.

I arrived at half past two, going against my usual custom of wearing a suit; simply arriving in a button down white long-sleeved shirt with a pair of jeans, neatly shaven but still a small amount of stubble on my face as I was not too concerned with my appearance. I laid down on a small sofa in the center of the room as she sat comfortably in her brown leather-cushioned seat; pen and pad in her hand as she just let me speak for a while - always a new issue and always an unusual situation.

Today, perhaps, would be the strangest.

"I hear this voice in the darkness that whispers to me," I began, glancing over at Katarina, hoping that she wouldn't deem me crazy. She was the consummate professional, however, her face not changing one iota. "I don't have an explanation for it, other than perhaps it being the remnants of a dream that just seems so real." I paused as my eyebrows furrowed, reliving each whisper in my mind. "It whispers to me my name, and then fades into nothingness; I open my eyes and there is no one there. It seems so real, yet I know there is nothing there."

I looked over at her for some kind of immediate response, but she seemed to be thinking about some things, writing down her thoughts on her notepad. I shook my head, laughing a bit to myself.

"I'm not crazy," I continued, shaking my head once more to the contrary. "Well aware of my mental prowess in fact. It just started a few weeks ago - the whispers. And in my dreams, I see a face. And I know that I've seen this individual before, but everything seems so blurred. I recognize the form, but the one to which it belongs remains a mystery to me."

"This...this voice," she said, her face simply looking down at the pad in her lap, overlooking the glasses on the tip of her nose to do so. "You say that it only comes to you in the middle of the night, before you awaken or fall asleep. Perhaps you just aren't getting enough sleep. Maybe stress-induced? I understand with your position with your current employment, stress is part of the job, but perhaps this is something that is more extraordinary than normal?"

"I think I can handle myself and my job Katarina," I coldly responded, almost taking offense to her question. But I conceded after a moment of thought, knowing that she possibly could be right. "But maybe you're right. I've undertaken quite the burden of late in my job. It has been a long time since I've been asked to be the top guy; it's been a while since I've had the weight of an entire company on my back. When I joined the Insurgency, I saw a roster full of great talent, and I knew that though the competition would be more fierce than I had experienced over the last few years, the burden should have been less due to not having the same responsibilities for the future of an entire company upon me. It wasn't like UECW. I wasn't alone."

I sighed though as I realized that perhaps this wasn't the case. I did feel that burden even to this day. I knew that if I ever took one moment to lose my focus; if I ever slacked in my responsibilities, than the Insurgency would suffer for it.

"Or so I thought. In my company, you either side with the wolves or you are devoured by them. And I've chosen to hunt those wolves. But it comes with a price. As champion, the rest of the roster looks to me to lead the way. They expect me to help them all ascend that mountain, and yet, if I allow them to come along with me, than I am only helping those beneath me to improve and become a threat in the future. It's like providing guns and ammunition to the enemy - it can only come back to bite me in the ass at some point."

"Alexander..."

"What?" I glared over at Katarina, thinking that she had said something, but she didn't seem to have anything to say to me at the moment. I shook my head, not wanting to admit to hearing yet another whisper in my mind; the first time of yet that I had heard this voice in broad daylight when wide awake. I was worried, but yet I hadn't an explanation, chalking it up simply to stress. Oftentimes, our sessions would involve me doing a lot of talking, her doing a lot of listening, and then she'd give her thoughts when I finally decided to shut up. Kinda sounds like my relationship with a certain female...heh.

"What about Jaci," she stated as though she could read her mind, but after countless sessions, she knew more about me oftentimes than I knew about myself. "Do you still think about her like you used to? As often as you used to?"

"I think it's impossible to wipe her completely from my mind doc," I said as she simply gave me an understanding nod. "However, I do believe that things are getting better on that front. I've removed a lot of the pictures and knick-nacks from my home like you suggested I do...that was a chore." It took me quite some time to gain enough strength to do so, for I felt like with each item I would throw away, I was losing a piece of that past that was so difficult to let go of. "And I no longer just stare at my phone hoping she gives me a call. And you're right, it's like a peace has come into my life that I haven't had since that day she left me, but yet I do know that if I were ever to see her again, I still would feel ripped to shreds. I guess I'm fortunate that I'll never have to see her again. I'll never have to relive that pain any longer."

We had obviously spoken at length about this entire situation in the past; something that took multiple sessions and a long period of time for me to finally feel like I could, at the very least, somewhat move on with my life. I had never had someone get to me as much as she had, so losing her was very difficult. But I would be a weakened man were I to continue along the same path of misery and woe that I was walking down, so it was time for me to let go, even if, as I said, I would be crushed were my eyes ever to gaze upon her beautiful face once more.

"Alexander...Return to the Origin."

The voice shook me to an upright seated position, looking around the room with a panicked look on my face, noticeable to Katarina.

"What is it Alex..."

"N...nothing. It's nothing. Just a thought that crossed my mind is all."

Suddenly an image filled my mind; blurred as always before in my dreams, but now, I was not sleeping. I couldn't see his face but rather his figure as before, but soon I saw blood streaming down his face. He cried out in agony as though he were pleading for my help. I shook my head, trying to force the image to depart, to which it slowly faded.

"Alex, I think you're still dealing with a lot of stress - a degree to which you are not capable of handling. I understand that your entire life, you have dealt with many things, but I think you have allowed yourself too many things on your plate at a time. Your businesses, your career, feeling the stress as though you were carrying the Insurgency on your back - I would take a guess that it really isn't that case and you just perceive it to be that way. From all I've heard about that place, there are many capable of taking on some of those responsibilities, but you've always been one to want to do everything yourself..."

"It's the only way the job gets done correctly..."

"Even so," she bowed her head before looking back up at me. "Even if that were the case, which I presume it is likely not, you cannot go through life acting as though you are alone in this world. There are always those who are willing to lend a hand; to relieve you of your burden as you call it. Griffin Hawkins for example..."

"Griffin Hawkins? Griffin Hawkins? Griffin Hawkins, I'm sure, means well, but I realized something when I won IWF's World Championship. He can take my title away from me any time he so chooses. See, he has this briefcase which entitles him to cash in and fight me for the title anytime he wants, including after a match where I'm beat up and broken and unable to compete any longer. And I wouldn't put it past him to use it on me in that moment. Sure, he promises that he won't, but I don't know. I want to trust Griffin Hawkins, but I know he's the type of guy that would sell Tiffani Michaels to the devil in order to see his dream become reality."

"It's as I've always said Alex, you need to learn to trust people more. You've always held this animosity toward others, including your friends, when all they've been trying to do is help. I want you to really try to work on this - trust. Even if you don't think you can, do it anyway. I know that bad things have happened to you in your life, and I'm aware that you've tried to trust others only for them to turn their back on you, but it's not healthy to keep to yourself like this and believe that everyone is out to get you."

"Maybe you're right Katarina," I say, knowing quite well that this was a struggle that I had been dealing with for a long time. My inner circle was small indeed, and even those within I could not fully grasp the importance of trust. Even with Hawkins, I truly felt as though he was indeed capable of cashing the briefcase on me unaware, leaving me powerless to defend that which I had earned. "I just never feel as though I can be too careful. But I will try. I will try to keep what you've said in mind. I will try to not feel as though the burden is completely on my shoulders, and I will try to give others an opportunity to carry that load. But if they fail; if they are unable to live up to my expectations, I don't see how I have any other choice Katarina. It's just who I am. I will try, but I can promise nothing."

I stood to my feet, knowing that our hour was soon to be concluded. I walked over to her as she stood as well, shaking her hand.

"Just try Alex; small steps remember," she said, her usual mantra. "As Rome was not built in a single day, nor will you be who you want to be immediately. But I do believe your issues are caused by these stressors, and if we can eliminate them somewhat or even altogether, I believe this will alleviate your concerns and at least some of your issues."

I nodded my head as I shook her hand once more, turning and walking out of her office and down the small staircase, leading into a long hallway filled with various other offices; hearing the phones ring constantly and the copiers copying, and a small subtle whisper in my head.

"Alexander..." the voice whispered, the same voice that I had heard so often over the past few weeks. But it was strange, as now it was appearing during the day, and now I could no longer blame this occurrence on lack of sleep. I began to hope to whatever god there may or may not be out there that this was nothing but explained by Katarina's analysis - stress.

"What the fuck do you want," I muttered to myself as a couple of men heading to lunch looked at me with a strange look on their faces, hurrying past me. "Great, now I'm talking to myself."

"ALEXANDER!!!!" the voice turned from a whisper to a shout as I backed myself against the nearest wall; my head pounding with the sound of the stress-induced madness. "ALEXANDER!!! ALEXANDER!!!! ALEXANDER!!! Return to the Origin Alexander! Return! Return! Return ALEXANDER!!!"

I ran down the hallway, the voice continuing to repeat this same madness; a deafening cry in my head now causing a splitting headache to form, but I felt more fear for my situation than worry about the pain in my head. I turned and ran into the nearest bathroom, closing the door behind me and locking the door as I stood before the sink, turning on the water to cool as I cupped an ample amount in my hands, pouring it over my face.

"Get out of my head," I screamed at the voice as it continued to yell my name. "Get the fuck out! Who are you?! What are you?! GET OUT!!!"

I ran the water over my face again, slowly peering into the mirror as I saw him standing behind me. The face that once was blurred was now picture-perfect clear. The man who stood behind me was none other than Ashe Corvin. I looked at the reflection in the mirror as a sinister grin formed over his face, shaking my head as I couldn't believe what I was seeing, nor comprehending what it all was about.

"What the fuck..."

Rivers of blood began to flow from his skull as he emitted a cry of torment; a spine-tingling cry that would strike horror in the heart of any man, including myself. I turned around quickly, but suddenly he was gone; vanished into thin air. I rubbed my eyes, and suddenly the lights began to flash on and off over and over again. I ran to the door, but by some force unknown, I could not unlock the door and I could not swing it open. I was stuck in this room of torment. I heard footsteps coming from all around me, but never a figure that belonged to them. In fear, I ran into the bathroom stall, closing and locking the door behind me, closing my eyes as I hoped that it would all go away.

Suddenly, the door of the stall began to shake as I backed into the corner, fear overcoming me as I could not comprehend what was happening to me. Could stress really have led to all of this? Could that really be all there was to my predicament? Suddenly a voice appeared to me in the chaos, but it was the voice of another; a bright white line illuminating the room to where I could see nothing else.

"My one and only son; I believe it is time we were reacquainted. Return to the Origin..."

Suddenly the lights turned back to normal and the chaos seemed to cease. As I timidly walked out of the bathroom stall, it was as though nothing had ever happened in this place. I looked myself in the mirror once more, running water over my face again, staring back into my eyes. I did not like the image of the man that I saw before me. I had turned pale white, my eyes bloodshot,

"What is happening to me..."

_____________________

January 5, 2013
Cleveland, Ohio
On-Camera (except for obvious voices/talking to said voices)

I had to get away. I had to return to my sanctuary. I had to return home. Unfortunately, that home would be found in the form of one of the more God-forsaken cities our country possesses - the city of Cleveland, Ohio. After the incident a couple of days prior, I caught a plane directly to Cleveland, and through the shadow of darkness, I allowed myself to temporarily escape the watchful eyes of the usual media mob that would usually crowd me when I would get off a plane. There were still a handful of photographers who happened to catch wind of my arrival, but not as many as I am used to, and for that, I was thankful.

I hid myself within the confines of the hotel I was staying at for the weekend, and ever since that incident, I didn't hear a peep out of the voice that had appeared to me so often over the last couple of weeks. Perhaps it was all over, I thought. Perhaps what happened was, as Katarina suggested, was due to my levels of stress and now that I was trying to work on the things that were my burden, they would diminish forever. So feeling at least a bit relieved, I made my way to a local bar a couple of blocks away - a quaint little place without a ton of traffic, still wanting to avoid the headache of the masses surrounding me as they forgot that I was human after all, despite my lavish lifestyle and overwhelming success.

I sat myself on a stool behind the bar, ordering a couple of beers as I had a look around, some lame concoction of a country mix being played in the background, making me want to vomit. Seriously, who the fuck listens to country music? At any rate, the barkeep handed me the beers as I kept to myself. Thankfully I didn't catch the glare of too many of the patrons, purposely not donning myself in my usual business - purely wearing a t-shirt and a ragged pair of jeans (Yes, I do in fact own such clothing; I just choose to wear suits because let's be perfectly honest here - everything's cooler in a suit.)

"They're watching you..."

"Who's watching me," I said aloud, stopping myself as I realized I was just talking to myself again. The barkeep looked at me with furrowed eyebrows as he too wondered who exactly I was speaking to. I huddled my head downward to where no one could hear me, speaking with a muffled voice. "Look, I don't know who you are, but you can't be talking to me while I'm in public."

Was this seriously happening? Was I really talking to voices in my head? What in the hell is wrong with me?

"The cameras, the cameras; they are watching you..."

"I don't care if the cameras are watching me; I'm trying to get rid of you," I said with a groan, curiously looking up as a couple of women who were sitting at the bar gave me a puzzled look. Guess I'm not getting laid tonight...

"Turn around! Turn around! Like vultures they are!"

"ENOUGH," I shouted to the top of my lungs at the voice in my head, standing up and turning around as I glared at those who were filming me, looking bewildered at my reaction, hoping to catch something else outrageous on my end. I took a deep breath, knowing I needed to compose myself, and for the hope of not looking completely like a madman, I tried to turn my outburst into a cleverly begun speech.


(The following was just my promo, so I've cut it out Very Happy )

____________________________________________________________________________







Career Record
49/07/01

IWF Achievements
1x IWF champion [12/23/12 - 2/24/13]
2012-2013 IWF Wrestler of the Year

Defeated:
Alexander Raven (x2)
Baron Tomson
Parker Wayde (x3)
David Bable
Silas Romero
Eric Steel
Jack Savage


[02:13:50] Alexander Remington : i know approx. 25ish years ago, her family did the worst thing ever
[02:13:59] Alexander Remington : had sex and decided against an abortion

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