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 One Last Stand

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Luke Wolfe

Luke Wolfe


Posts : 1
Join date : 2015-02-01

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PostSubject: One Last Stand   One Last Stand I_icon_minitimeThu Mar 05, 2015 9:55 pm

"One Last Stand"
For A Whole New Beginning


March 5, 2015
(Off Camera)

Three a day work outs, long days, total exhaustion, all in preparation for something that in long run really won’t matter all that much anyway.  Why did he care this much about a federation that gave him his start and then closed it’s doors before he had a chance to get started? Because it’s what the business is all about.

Luke walks into his hotel room, after his third workout of the day, towel over his head. He takes a second to check his phone, he had been getting twitter messages from a special someone who had a little “crush” on the lone wolf. They had spoken a few times, and exchanged numbers. She seemed like a nice girl, Jessica Andrews who had her eye on someone who would probably do nothing but get her into a world she truly didn’t want to be in. Yet, she seemed steadfast to get to meet. Luke types into his cell, and tosses it on the bed stand. He heads over to his bathroom that is accommodated with its own Jacuzzi, something that he needed. He heads inside tossing the towel off his head onto the bathroom floor as he goes to fill the tub with extra hot water to massage his sore muscles. Sitting on the edge of the tub he rubs his nose. He lets out a loud exhale as he steps up and takes off his shirt, examining a bruise on his right shoulder in the mirror he sustained in fight outside a bar not two weeks ago. His shorts hit the floor as he walks toward the tub nude from top to bottom.

The water covers him, and all that can be seen is from the stomach up as he leans his head back letting his mind wander. The water continues to fill the tub, when there is a knock at the door, and the sound of a key card unlocking the door to the room. Luke opens one eye, and slides up to a seated position. A woman, Jessie Andrews walks through the bathroom door with a smile on her face. She’s covered by only a towel, and suddenly the towel drops to the floor as a grin grows across the face of Luke Wolfe. She slowly walks over and gets in the tub, sliding over and sitting upon Luke’s lap, the two interlace their fingers as the scene slowly fades out.  


March 6th 2015
(On Camera)

Luke Wolfe: I’ve spent a lot of time sitting and thinking about the past. Where I’ve come from and where I want to go. I’ve been given opportunities in the IWF and I failed to take advantage of those things. Then what happens? Before I have a chance to have a cup of coffee, the IWF closes its doors because of… What? Because the brass doesn’t have anyone in charge who wants to take control of this place. There’s no warden in charge of this prison, the inmates are running the asylum. So what then? Then it’s the perfect time to end the stories and the legends that have taken place in Insurgency, close it’s doors forever more. I’m not gonna sit here and BS so lets save everyone some time and cut the Bull Shit. It’s no secret that the warden of this particular prison has been a revolving door of misfits each more incompetent than the last. Bobert for crying out loud went and flipped the whole place upside down thinking it would be the savior of the company, only to find out that the savior was a wolf in sheep’s clothing. It came time that all of us had to decide whether or not we were gonna stay in this ghost town, and if we stayed, how long would it be before we became ghosts ourselves? Course I say that like we ain’t dead already. All of us, from the top of the card to the bottom, where exactly did we think we were going? We were only going to go as far as the IWF could take us, and it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out just how fast the IWF was going down, when your upper management changes as often as it was, it’s only a matter of time before the ship sinks, and there isn’t any captain to go down with the ship.

Luke Wolfe: So that leads us to our current place. One Last Stand, the people who run this place wanted to go out with a bang instead of a fizzle and a snap. I haven’t been here as long as others but all I know is my contract wasn’t dry but a few weeks before I found myself a free agent once again. What does the IWF mean to me? To me, it’s a place that gave me a chance, but what exactly did that chance get me? An array of mean nothing matches, and a whole lot of nothing to do. What chance was I given? I got a shot at a third tier title via a popularity contest, in which I was supposed to… what? Go out and beg for votes? Campaign my reason for getting a shot at the title? I sat back and did nothing, I watched my votes grow and lose by one vote, what did I get? A consolation prize where I got to kick the crap out of a guy who couldn’t hold my jock on his best day. That… is my legacy in the IWF, losing a popularity contest, and fighting a bunch of matches that no one cared about in the first place. Excuse me if I don’t shed a tear for the IWF, because what did the IWF ever do for me? Then I find out, not only are they having this massive goodbye show, but they are booking me in a match, and not just any match, a pyramid match. What’s a Pyramid match? Triple cage match, it’s like a ladder match, you know without the ladder, and instead of something hanging say fifteen feet above the ring, they hang it roughly what? A hundred feet above the ring? Climb the damn cages to get to the top, and do you win? Oh no, absolutely not, then you have to drag the damn thing all the way back down to the bottom, making sure no one steals it from you along the way. What happens if someone falls off the top to the third tier cage to the arena floor below? Occupational hazard I suppose. Fear of highs or fear of falling? I have the answer… don’t fall. This is the opening match, and what do we get for our hard earned victory? Absolutely NOTHING! Yet another match that no one gives a two shits about that I am thrown into just for the sheer amusement of the crowd like we are some kind of circus animals.

Luke Wolfe: This whole match is one big nasty law suit wating to happen. But we don’t have the luxury of being able to bring a law suit to whoever booked this stupid match, because we are considered independent contractors. We don’t have a union, we are like monkeys, and we do what we are told. Certainly I could just choose not to show up to this event and walk away from the IWF and give them exactly what they gave me, absolutely nothing. But hell, why not? I’ll show up and I’ll do what I can to win that damn match and not end up killing myself in the process, why? Because winning a match like this looks good on a resume’. Oh yeah, I have every intention of taking my talents elsewhere, after this whole fiasco is over. This place didn’t give two shits about me my entire tenure, it was more concerned with making sure that champions like Molly Reid held onto her title for as long as humanly possible without having to actually make a title defense. So when I’m done with this match, I’m gonna remember just what the IWF did for me, and I’m gonna use that when I pick up shop in a new town. I’ve never been held down before and I certainly don’t plan on being held down now. All I wanted was a chance, the IWF didn’t give me that chance, they signed my contract and paid me to show up, but what I got was a bundle of empty promises, and I was nothing more than a forgotten afterthought. That is what the IWF is to me, an afterthought. So I’ll show up to “One Last Stand” I’ll put my body on the line in a match that no man should ever have to compete in, and I’ll wave goodbye to the IWF. And no one will be happier than me to see this place close it’s doors. See ya soon, and then I’ll stand at the after party and smile from ear to ear and wave goodbye to this God forsaken place.

Fade.
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Tabula Rasa




Posts : 2
Join date : 2015-01-30

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PostSubject: Re: One Last Stand   One Last Stand I_icon_minitimeSat Mar 14, 2015 7:37 pm

Dad grunts when he sits down beside me on the bottom stair. Just climbing the stairs to the door has him huffing like a freight train, and I can see the pulse jumping in his neck. He likes his food too much, and when his only exercise is golfing and getting beaten by the other old boys at poker, it’s catching up. His hair is going grey rapidly now, and I can’t help but wonder at it. He’s only fifty. Is that normal, or is it a sign?

I didn’t let him in. All I did was open the door to the knock and stand by as he pushed past me into the hall, standing and looking at me with none of the faux-righteous fury of our last interaction. He doesn’t look as though he’s preparing to punch me today.

I consider this a good thing.

I don’t remember closing the front door or sitting down on the stairs, but I must have done both, because here we are, light through coloured glass playing over his face, and mine, too, I suppose. He’s wearing that Dunhill cologne: the only one that I can tolerate at close quarters, his bulk keeping me scooted towards the banister. I wrap one hand around the carving, thumb tracing the scalloped ridges of a pineapple, and lean forward, not wanting to look at him. I have a headache, and I wish Angelica were here. She’s… is it the hairdresser? The salon? Somewhere with Mother? I can’t recall.

“-called Doctor Gibson. He couldn’t tell me how you were going, of course, and I didn’t ask. I did ask him to talk to you about the uh… calls you’ve been… well, I know you’re getting the texts, at least.”

I can draw enough from context. He’s been calling, texting, emailing… hell, he even posted a letter, since January. Since the fight, or whatever you’d call that. He punched me. I punched him back. We repeated that chorus and verse a couple of times, and then he ended the fistfight by dropping a bomb on my head. It was cheating, and I suppose I can’t blame him for attempting to create a level playing field, but well.

”Look at you. Lollygagging there like some privileged little shit, that smarmy look on your face just daring me to knock it off. I don’t require your forgiveness, Freddie. I know what we did - what I did - was the right thing. Locking you away - well, we never should have let you out. But then, you know that. I think if you really stop to consider that, you know it deep down, don’t you? That’s why you rage and rail at me. That’s where all this hatred stems from. You know what we did was for the best and you just can’t stand the thought of someone shutting you down, can you? You say I don’t care. If I don’t care, I think I have ample reason. You use your sickness as a weapon, swinging it around trying to wound me. You were better off there, Freddie. Despite what you think. Do you honestly believe it would have been better to drag you around the world, cleaning up messes in your wake? Be reasonable for once in your life. They stopped you - we stopped you - taking the easy way out how many times when you were there? And how many times since? You think I don’t know what your career is - you’re too arrogant, too narcissistic to take your own life, so you sign up for somebody else to do it for you!”

I’m still not over it, not really. Maybe this is why Angelica has been so gentle about making a decision on finding a new organisation to join. Why, after scouting in Vegas, we took a side trip to Orlando for nostalgia’s sake, where of course Madeline made things a thousand times worse with her own ridiculous attempt to insinuate herself into my life.

And so we sit, the silence broken only by the sound of his breathing.

And finally…

“You should see a doctor about your fitness.” “Don’t compete in this cage match.”

One sentence over the top of the other, like those card mosaic collages from the hospital. We mean the same thing, though, oddly enough, and I dare to face him, flinching away from the unexpected: a declaration not of hatred this time, but something else.

“Why?” Again in unison, and he gestures for me to go first.

“You’ve put on too much weight. Just walking has you sounding like the Little Engine that Could. Except your ‘think I can’ is going to have you keeling over from a heart attack if you’re not careful.”

He punctuates his nod with a grunt of agreement. “Your mother says the same thing.”

“You said you hated me. That you wished I was dead. I’d have thought you’d have been shoving me in the cage with a cattle prod and a metric ton of enthusiasm.”

He winces, flinching a little around the eyes, and nods. “I didn’t mean it, Freddie. I was angry at you. This thing with Madeline… you’re right, it makes me feel guilty all over again for cheating on your mother. It was only the one time, you know. I was young, and stupid, and selfish, and I suppose it forced me to make a decision.”

“And you picked her, right? You chose Mother.”

“Of course I did. She’s the love of my life, Freddie, and so I made the choice, and-”

“But you chose the wrong kid out of it, huh? Wouldn’t it have been great if you could pick her and trade me for the other one? Get the good wife, and avoid the mental case kid.”

“No.” It’s vehement, it’s loud, and I dare a glance at him again, before he reaches out and pulls me in against the wool of his coat, pressing a sudden, almost urgent kiss to the top of my head. It’s the first time my father has ever kissed me that I recall, and it leaves me feeling faintly uncomfortable, and entirely confused. “No, Freddie. I said I hated you. I said I wished you’d succeeded, but I didn’t mean it. I meant something else, and I forget… I forgot that you can’t translate that. That you see things on the surface only.”

“I’m not stupid.” I pull away, cold on the stairs, and hug my arms around myself. “I- Please don’t kiss me.” A heavy pulse starts up in my head, static roars in heartbeat thumps, there and gone and back again.

“I don’t understand it. I don’t understand you. It terrifies me. Please, Freddie, I-”

Of course he can’t understand. I don’t see how that scares him, but there you have it.

“Fine. Imagine that you’re a runner. Or you will be. You’re from a family of runners and that’s what you’ll do. Not an expectation, a reality.”

“I dont-”

“Bear with me. You’re a runner. And when you’re small, before you’ve really started running, somebody comes along and smashes your leg. And you know that if your family of runners find out that your leg is injured, they might not want you, because you’ve lost your value to the family. So you just stay off that leg, and after a while it heals. It’s a little bit crooked, but not so anybody notices, and there’s poison in that healed fractured part, but it’s safe. It’s all encapsulated. And one day you’ll be a runner, and you may not be as good as you would have been before, but you’ll still be able to get away with it. But then, when you’re older, that same asshole comes along and smashes your leg again. Only this time worse, and made even worse by that poison coming out. So you pretend that everything is okay, that it’s just a sprain, and you keep powering through it, but that poison is getting out, little by little, and you lie to yourself, that it’s just that sprain, just a twinge, just a bruise, that kind of thing. Only one day that poison hits your bloodstream and suddenly you’re dying. Or you think you’re dying, at least.”

I look up from my knees for a second, and he’s silent but for that whistle in his lungs, and he motions for me to go on.

“So you can’t hide it, and everybody finds out that you’re never going to be a runner, but your family want to see you cross a finish line or two at some point, so you go to get treatment. And they tell you that they can’t save your leg. They can replace it, though. Find a prosthesis that will make it almost as good as before, maybe even better. But the catch is, you have to amputate the leg yourself. Nobody else can do it. And you can only use your own teeth. So you summon up almost all of your reserves, and you take a bite, and it hurts, and now you don’t just have a broken leg, but you’re bleeding, and the poison is everywhere because of that bite, and you take another, and you realise that it’s not going to work. That you can’t do it. You just can’t. So they give you a wheelchair, and your bites heal, but your leg isn’t any better, because some other bastard is stabbing you in the leg: tiny stabs, a few times a week, so you can’t encapsulate that poison any more. And it goes, and it goes, and you’re in pain, and you can’t walk, and all you’ve ever been meant to be is a runner, so you have to hurt somebody, and it might as well be yourself.

“But it just won’t kill you. And they won’t let you kill yourself. And your leg just gets worse and worse. And then they say… that there’s an alternative. You can strap a brace on your leg, and try to just walk. It’s not running, but you’ll be on your feet. So you take that option. And then you find a career that works like crutches, so now you’re at least walking faster. And then you find the right person, and she shows you how to leach the poison away. And that’s where I am now. I can jog. And maybe that’s all I’ll ever be able to do, but when you say you’d rather see me back in that wheelchair?” I shrug, not even sure if he gets the analogy or not.

“You do love her.”

“I haven’t told her. She knows, but I haven’t told her. I don’t want somebody else to be the first person to hear it. It should be her.”

He presses a hand on my shoulder and squeezes. “I thought… I guess I was scared that the only options were Madeline, or the other thing people say about you.”

“There are always more options than the obvious, Dad.”

“I can’t talk you out of that cage match? I… I saw the footage of the one in your last place. And that guy who fell. He was stronger than you, I’m not sure… I’m not sure you could survive that fall, and it scares me.”

“Dad…” I huff a breath of laughter, not even sure where it came from. “There are three other monkeys in this circus. I have no intention of climbing past the first tier. They’re going to do it for me. And then I’ll snatch their little moment away, and make it mine.”

“Sounds an awful lot like cheating.”

“Think of it this way. When you lost money against Paul Demeter at cards, it was because you were beaten by a better player. When I won it back, it was because I’m a smarter player. You just need to know how to be smarter. Doubt my sanity all you like, and with reason, but never, never doubt my intelligence.”

“Still sounds a bit like cheating.” He’s smiling, and I’m not sure why.

“It is a bit like cheating. Also known as a lot like winning.”




| on-camera |

“Your mediocrity is exhausting. No. Don’t look behind you, or start the mental version, casting about for some other ‘you’ for me to refer to. If you can hear me say this, or read some poorly-spelled transcript on somebody’s cobbled-together wikia page, let me assure you that I mean you. Specifically, inclusively, and absolutely you.

“I was told once that to get ahead, I had to play my hands more carefully. Bite back the things that I’d really like to say. Go along to get along, as it were. But you know, I don’t have to do that today, do I? Because this is the last hurrah for Insurgency Wrestling, and all mouth filters are off. And look where that attention to mannerliness has me: on the most pathetic, forgettable match on this card.

“Triple cage? You know, I’d like to know what people were thinking at the moment they created this card. I just left a company that tried this. Blew out their budget on trying to be the most innovative, forgetting that innovation comes from your talent, not the laughable sideshow of situations you put them in. They put out an identical triple cage for their first pay per view, set out boxes of scorpions, and reams of hardcore matches with ridiculous stipulations. When I first saw this card, I wondered if Insurgency had borrowed Willow Swaime as temporary management, because it has that particular flavour of mediocrity dressed up to shock, like dollar store toys wrapped in expensive paper. Or Bianca Davis. At least in that company, the cage meant something: was the headliner of their big event, for their biggest championship. This one? Just utter meaninglessness, designed to toss the four most disposable idiots on your roster at each other and hope to recoup lost ticket sales in video income once one of us dies.

“Heads up. It’s not going to be me. Do you honestly think anybody with even the slightest shred of self-preservation is going to climb three tiers for nothing? For… you? What have you ever done for us? We show up, we’re reliable, we work our collective asses off, we give our time in training and preparation and honour our contract and in return… this? This… I don’t even know what this is.

“I can understand… how did Wolfe put it? Wanting to go out with a bang? And the logic in bookings is obvious the higher you go up the card, but this? Four people without a single iota of commonality, no standing interest in each other outside of this match, and not a hint of history. You’ve saved that for your big names, and that’s fair enough. There’s no wonder that we’re the show openers. Which is a shame, given that three out of the four of us actually know enough about what we’re doing to put on a decent show, which could only improved by pitting us against people we actually give a damn about. I don’t know Wolfe, although from what I’ve seen and heard lately, his head isn’t in this match, let alone his heart. I barely know Lifer, and while he seems decent enough, he doesn’t get me fired up, competitively or otherwise. Not to mention my doubts about him actually showing up, given that he’s publicly talking about his hospitalisation. And Hart? Pfft. What was that, you had a volunteer that you just couldn’t fit anywhere else? If you want your poster boy for mediocrity, you have it right there. You can trade on who your parents are as a leg-up into wrestling, but you have to match that career boost with actual ability, and from what I can gather, that’s far too difficult for him.

“But like Wolfe, I’m here. And as always, I’ll be a good little workhorse. I’ll be there on time, I’ll be prepped, trained and ready, and I’ll work my ass off in the ring. But I will not risk my life for you.

“That… doesn’t mean that I won’t risk theirs.”

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Robbie Hart




Posts : 5
Join date : 2013-11-21

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PostSubject: Re: One Last Stand   One Last Stand I_icon_minitimeMon Mar 16, 2015 10:44 pm

One Last Stand _1371483110
♥ - - - ♥ - - - ♥ - - - ♥
♥ My Final Curtain Call ♥
♥ ‘One Last Stand’ ♥
♥ - - - ♥ - - - ♥ - - - ♥


Standing there on top of the hill looking down at everyone morning the death of a tag-team icon, I couldn’t help but replay the events of the last few years. I went from watching the land of No Limits finally fall into the abyss, to becoming one of the top draws in DOPE. I once again was a champion, the first that promotion had ever seen. Everything I did in DOPE the public couldn’t get enough of! It felt like my career was finally getting back to the level it once was way back when I first broke onto the scene with the Insurgency.

Then I was hit with another injury and it all went away. By the time I got back to DOPE, the place was a shadow of its former self and it wasn’t long till they closed the doors for good, and I found myself right back at the dead end I tried so hard to climb out of

The Philadelphia clouds begun to open up and rain was falling from the sky. The people who were gathered around the casket, watching as they lowered the body into its final resting place all opened up there black colored umbrellas. The rain nor the view of death didn’t bother me; I was only here to make sure he was really gone. Sounds pretty cold seeing as it was my father Frank Hart who they were putting six feet under the ground, but in this family death was just another word for vacation. Between my uncle and my father they both have been “Dead” multiple times, I just wanted to make sure this was legit and he was really gone.

Not that it changed anything; to me Frank has been dead for years

I adjusted the shades on my face; I’ve seen what I came to see. I turned around to head back to my car and standing there was none other then my uncle himself, the legendary Johnny Stylez! He was donned in your typical funeral clothes, a black suit finished with a black fedora. I haven’t seen him since we were both under contract in Dirty Wrestling Promotions. He was apart of the commentary team there, and I was one of the only top draws that promotion had.

..:: Johnny Stylez ::..
“Why am I not surprise to find you hanging out in the nose bleed seat of your father’s funeral?!”

..:: Robbie Hart ::..
‘I’m not in the mood for one of your long and pointless lectures SB’

I start to walk away, but as I come up to him he stops me in my tracks by putting his hand on my shoulder. I really wasn’t in the mood to hear more bullshit about how I should forgive and move on from the harsh feelings/memories I had of my father, and I definitely didn’t want to hear it from a guy who made Frank Hart look like a fucking boy scout.

..:: Robbie Hart ::..
‘Listen mang, I’m not going to stand here and shoot the shit about what’s going on down there. He’s finally dead, who am I kidding give it a year he’ll pop up somewhere in china just like he did years ago.’

..:: Johnny Stylez ::..
“I’m not here about him kid, but if I was this would be where I point out that him faking his death the first time around made you the number one contender for the Insurgency world heavyweight championship in you’re first ever career match!”

..:: Robbie Hart ::..
‘And he never let me forget it.’

I appreciated the move he made, it pretty much jump started my career not only in the Insurgency but in the game in general. To this day I don’t recall another IWF legend past or present, hell I honestly don’t think there was ever another superstar who became the number one contender in there debut. Of course I just didn’t win the contendership, I also went on to win the championship in my fourth professional match!

..:: Johnny Stylez ::..
“Kid, why don’t we go get a drink, I know a great …”

..:: Robbie Hart ::..
‘Good looks on the offer SB, but I’m heading to Boston.’

Again I attempt to walk away, leaving my past behind me. Leaving it buried as deep as my father was. But of course SB wasn’t done; he walked right next to me as I headed to the back of the cemetery. I parked next to the groundskeepers, the last thing I wanted was to run into people who wanted to shower me with there fake grief.

..:: Johnny Stylez ::..
“Heading for IWF’s last hoorah ay kid?”

..:: Robbie Hart ::..
‘It’s also going to be my last hoorah as well.’

..:: Johnny Stylez ::..
“What are you talking about Rob? Are you thinking about retiring?”

..:: Robbie Hart ::..
‘Not thinking about it, already made up my mind. After ‘One Last Stand’ I’m hanging up the boots and moving on from the game.’

..:: Johnny Stylez ::..
“Is that what you really want to do kid? From what I saw in DOPE its clear you still got some gas left in the tank, hell just by looking at you I can tell you are far from ready for the retirement life.”

..:: Robbie Hart ::..
‘Trust SB, I’m more ready then you think mang. I’m not that 19 year old who took the Insurgency by storm anymore and with three knee surgeries and a freshly healed torn ACL I would say I’m just about empty. Not to mention I’m also too old to start at the bottom of some nameless promotion that will close there doors a few months in!’

..:: Johnny Stylez ::..
“The game sure has changed since the early days … Promotions just don’t have that ‘stay’ power they once had. Guess the Insurgency is the last of the breed.”

..:: Robbie Hart ::..
‘No shit Sherlock, that’s why I’m punching my ticket out of the game while I still have some worth. It’s not like our family has the best reputation!’

He laughs at that comment. He totally understood what I was talking about. The Hart and Stylez name carried a lot of bad baggage. For crying out load, SB himself started the movement of playing politics in the locker-room. Not to mention all the times we lied, cheated and fucked our way to championships and glory.

..:: Johnny Stylez ::..
“No bullshiting there kid, were the Alex Rodriguez and Pete Rose of the wrestling world!”

..:: Robbie Hart ::..
‘Who are you kidding, we make them look like gods compared to our histories!’

This time we both broke out in a laugh. The rain was starting to come down a little harder as we reached the graveyard’s staff parkinglot. There weren’t a lot of folks working today, the lot was almost empty besides a few cars here and there, and then there was my SUV sitting alone under a large and dropping oak tree.

..:: Johnny Stylez ::..
“So how about that drink?”

..:: Robbie Hart ::..
‘Told you SB, I’m heading to the Bean.’

..:: Johnny Stylez ::..
“I heard you the first time, I may be up there in age but I’m not deaf kid. And between me and you, I wouldn’t be caught dead in a bar around here.”

Opening the driver side door, I shoot Stylez a look as he opens my passenger side door. He flashes one of his sly smirks before he fixes his hat and right before he invites himself into my car he has one more thing to say …

..:: Johnny Stylez ::..
“Road trip!”

He slams the door and I just shake my head as I jump into the driver’s seat. If there was one thing I knew about my uncle Johnny, there was no changing his mind. Closing my door and starting the car, I just knew this was going to be a long ride to Boston.

To my surprise the ride was pretty quit, it was a long drive up 95, but SB pretty much took in the sights. Every time I looked over at him it was like he was reliving his days on the road. The game was all he knew, and I was sure long drives like this always brought him back to the life on the road. Of course it wasn’t always quit, one of us would make small talk but no conversation ever spawned from it. I still had no idea why he invited himself on this trip, nor did I know where we were heading to have this drink he wanted to have. But Boston was his home, and I was sure it would be a place he visited many times over the years.

Then it hit me, here I was about to wrestle my last match and I was going to spend the night before drinking with a bunch of folks who belonged in a nursing home!

After what seemed like forever we were finally driving on the Mass Pike. We were a few miles away from the city of Boston, that’s when SB wanted to play the role of GPS

..:: Johnny Stylez ::..
“Next mile in a half, take the exit.”

..:: Robbie Hart ::..
‘Where exactly are we going mang?’

..:: Johnny Stylez ::..
“If this is going to be your swan song, might as will celebrate it just like I did.”

..:: Robbie Hart ::..
‘As many times as you retired, I bet where ever were going you must owe a hefty tab!’

..:: Johnny Stylez ::..
“Fucking hilarious kid, just pay attention to the road”

The exit came up and just like SB told me to do, I pulled off the Pike. The signs told me we were heading towards Dorchester, not the greatest part of the city. I figured we were driving through to get to what ever watering hole SB called home.

..:: Johnny Stylez ::..
“Almost there, take your next right and then stay straight until you come up to the end of the street and hang a left. The place will be on the right at the end of the road; it’s behind the trucking company and the methadone clinic.”

That’s when I realized we weren’t just driving through. I could picture the place in my head, just by the directions he gave me. A bar behind a methadone clinic didn’t scream out ‘Cheers’. Following SB’s orders we drove past Blue Hill Ave, a bunch of run down projects and a corner that was littered with bodies that looked like they belong to the clinic.

..:: Johnny Stylez ::..
“Were here, find a spot to park.”

Looking at the place it left little to the imagination. I wanted to call the place a shit hole but that would be giving it a complement. I couldn’t believe this was where a multi time world champion would spend his retirement parties. The neon sign was broken; the only letter that slightly glowed was a N. The windows looked like they were all boarded up. There were folks standing outside and a few of them were taking turns throwing up on the sidewalk.

..:: Robbie Hart ::..
‘Classy place.’

..:: Johnny Stylez ::..
“It has seen better times, the owner’s a old friend of mine. And believe me kid, there isn’t another bar in the city as diverse as this place.”

He wouldn’t get any argument from me

..:: Johnny Stylez ::..
“It’s an Irish pub in the heart of the ghetto and it’s owned by a Ginny!”

I found a parking spot next to a couple of bikes. Johnny jumped out first and before I could even open my door, SB poked his head into the car

..:: Johnny Stylez ::..
“Careful with those bikes, trust me kid they really do take those crotch rockets seriously. I found out the hard way.”

He rubs a scar on his forehead as if he was deep in de ja vu before closing the door. I jumped out and made sure to set the alarm on the SUV. I followed SB into the bar and the first thing that hit me was the smell. The place reeked like piss and steal cigar smoke. The inside was just as bad as the outside. It was clear the health inspector forgotten this place a long time ago. As we made our way deeper into the bar, it wasn’t long before a group of ladies were yelling to Johnny

..:: Johnny Stylez ::..
“Kid grab us some shots and a couple of beers, Ill grab us a booth.”

And just like that SB was making his rounds and I was belly up to the bar. I stood there for a few minutes trying to get the attention of a bartender but they weren’t paying me no mind. I didn’t expect them to, a place like this a fresh face was nothing more then an undercover cop. Just as I was about to give up and send the hero of this shit hole, a voice came booming from the far end of the bar, and as he came closer I couldn’t believe my eyes.

..:: Voice ::..
“Well I’ll be a tyranny’s sperm catcher! Robbie Hart is that you?”

..:: Robbie Hart ::..
‘Carmine? Holy shit bro! I thought you were dead! I mean I seen you fall from the plane, back in NLWF! How the fuck …”

Carmine was the last person I expected to run into walking into this joint. For the last couple of years I was sure he was lying at the bottom of the ocean. But then again, he rolled with SB and my father so I guess I shouldn’t be that surprise he was bartending instead of playing poker with Frank Hart and Satan

..:: Carmine Vestieri ::..
“Just another piss poor stunt paid by Brenton in attempt to keep ratings up”

..:: Robbie Hart ::..
‘So now you’re running bar in the world’s shittiest watering hole?’

..:: Carmine Vestieri ::..
“Fuck no, I own the place.”

Paying my insult no mind he slammed two shot glasses in front of me and reached under the bar before filling both with Jack. He grabbed his glass and I did the same, but before I embrace him I examined the glass.

..:: Carmine Vestieri ::..
“Hey Robbie no need to check your glass, these our the cleanest in the house! I serve the Ebola glasses to the every day crowed.”

We laughed as we both knocked back the shots. I wasn’t thrilled about this place, but seeing Carmine made me realize why SB called this place home.

..:: Robbie Hart ::..
‘So this is what your doing these days ay mang, you done with the wrestling game?’

..:: Carmine Vestieri ::..
“That life is behind me Rob, gave the game the best years of my life an all I got to show for it is a trip on every black list there is. I thought about opening my own promotion, but I never really did bounce back after being anal raped by Brenton in NLWF, gave that douchbag everything I had. If it wasn’t for me that place would have never been around long enough to spawn the Insurgency!”

I could tell even though Carmine moved on he was still hurt about how things went down with the NLWF. Before my big break in the Insurgency, Carmine was one of the men running the NLWF, right along with Silva. He even took Direct Hit and made it the promotions top program. But of course Silva and Brenton couldn’t have him taking credit for anything and they quickly ran the guy out of the company, throwing trash on everything he did for that promotion

Always felt like Carmine got the shit end of that deal, but everyone who has ever wrestled in NLWF has a similar story

..:: Carmine Vestieri ::..
“Say what ever happened to that piece of ass you had hanging around you back in the early days of the Insurgency?”

I knew who he was talking about. Loca Rossi, was once my fiancée and was even carrying my unborn twins at one time. I loved her at one time, and after ‘Bloody Sunday I’ she would always be connected to my legacy in the IWF, along with Cody Taylor.

..:: Robbie Hart ::..
‘Who Loca?’

..:: Carmine Vestieri ::..
“Yea that’s the one I’m talking about, you still hitting that?”

..:: Robbie Hart ::..
‘Last I heard she got married to a trust fund cat, and opened her very own nigh club in Miami. Hear the place is one of the hottest places on South Beach.’

..:: Carmine Vestieri ::..
“That’s good I guess, you two always made a good couple”

..:: Robbie Hart ::..
‘Hard to be a couple when you pay someone to do an impromptu abortion’

..:: Carmine Vestieri ::..
“Made for great TV though”

Just like Carmine, always changing the mood of a subject with a bad joke. Johnny walked up behind me and joined the reunion; he patted me on the back and took a seat next to me up on the bar. The place was filled with drunks and addicts but I felt like we were the only three in the place

..:: Johnny Stylez ::..
“I see you met the owner of this fine establishment”

..:: Robbie Hart ::..
‘Why didn’t you ….’

..:: Johnny Stylez ::..
“Aye Carmine did the kid tell you the news?”

..:: Carmine Vestieri ::..
“Nope, we were just catching up.”

..:: Johnny Stylez ::..
“He’s hanging up his boots after his next match in the Insurgency”

Carmine looked a little confused; I understood I wasn’t the typical age of guys who called it quits. But I feel out of love for this game. My body has been put through hell and back. I haven’t even been inside a ring since my last match in DOPE and that was back in October

..:: Carmine Vestieri ::..
“You’re busting my balls right SB? Hey Robbie, you really retiring?”

..:: Robbie Hart ::..
‘Yea mang, it’s just the right time. How many people in this game can honestly say they retired in the same promotion they started there career in?’

..:: Johnny Stylez ::..
“That is rare in this game. I just hope you’re serious about this kid. Last thing you wanna do is end up like me.”

..:: Robbie Hart ::..
‘No worries there, I don’t plan on having 45 comeback tours!’

Johnny playfully dope slapped me before fucking up my hair, as all three of us were laughing at SB’s multiple returns to the ring.

..:: Johnny Stylez ::..
“Joke all you want Kid, but this game has that draw to it. When it’s all we know, it’s hard to move on. I still feel that void, that’s why I opened up my own wrestling school here in Boston.”

That was news to me; then again I didn’t go out of my way to keep tabs on family

..:: Johnny Stylez ::..
“You should use the school to train for the match kid, It would be good for the young bucks to see you in action and you can shake off that ring rust. Last thing you want to be remembered as is an out of shape has been”

..:: Robbie Hart ::..
‘Yea that title already belongs to you!’

..:: Carmine Vestieri ::..
“Enough with the glory days talk, lets fucking celebrate! Open bar for the both of you! I’m going to make this retirement party one you don’t remember in the morning!”

Carmine filled up the glasses and held it up for a toast

..:: Carmine Vestieri ::..
“To you Robbie, and for the hell of a career you had!”

..:: Johnny Stylez ::..
“I’ll drink to that”

We all clink are glasses and poured it down like it was water. The rest of the night was a blur but it was a fucking blast. It was just what I needed going into ‘One Last Stand’ I couldn’t believe on March 5th I would be entering a ring for the very last time. I knew for a fucking fact I would miss every thrill this lifestyle brings, but I also knew it was time to say good-bye. I still had no idea what I was going to do when it was all over, I also wasn’t thinking that far into things.

There was only one thing on my mind

My One Last Stand …

♥ - - - ♥ - - - ♥ - - - ♥
♥ My Final Curtain Call ♥
‘One Last Stand’
♥ ROBBIE HART’S EDITION ♥
♥ The Shoot ♥
♥ - - - ♥ - - - ♥ - - - ♥


You can’t have one last show here in the Insurgency with out having me being apart of it! Sure my history around these woods isn’t the best and a lot of folks still have a sour taste in there mouths seeing me back here, and if they don’t then they shouldn’t be apart of this curtain call. But it doesn’t take away everything I’ve done for this promotion!

Before I turn my back on the Insurgency and pretty much told everyone on the roster and in the front office to go fuck themselves as I signed with NLWF, I was sorta a big name around these woods. I became the number one contender for the IWF world championship in my debut match; I then went on to beat Dan Alexander to win the championship. It still blows my mind that the very first strap I wrapped around my waste was the top prize of this very promotion! Then to follow that up I went on to not only win the High Impact championship, but also shattering the record of the longest reigning High Impact champion, a record that would still stand today if my actions didn’t have my accomplishments erased from the history books.

What did I do for an encore after those two career defining moments?

I went on to hold the NLWF Tag-team championship with none other then the future hall of famer James Shark, and then to wrap up my golden run I became a two time world champion! All feats that everyone else in this pyramid match never accomplish and never will after ‘One Last Stand!’

But like I said my career here in the Insurgency was anything but all good. After losing the championship, I had a sour taste in my mouth and I guess you can say I took my ball and pissed all over the IWF name by signing with NLWF. It’s one of the biggest mistakes I made in my career, and trust me, I don’t admit to fucking up often, and I owe each and everyone here an apology for my actions! But I’ve moved on and that’s all in the past, because I’m back home where I should have never left!

Guess you can call me the Lebron James of the Insurgency

It’s just too bad that I waited until the final show to take an Insurgency match seriously! Then again it’s the perfect time to not only say good-bye to the IWF but also to end my career. This was my birth place and it will be my curtain call. Not a lot of folks can say they ended there career in the same ring it started, and just like my debut I plan on stealing the show, setting the tempo for the night and going out with a victory!

There billing this pyramid match as a clash of the eras, but who are they fucking kidding? There is no question who was apart of the best era of this promotion! I was here when folks like James Shark was knocking bitches out left and right, I was apart of this promotion when Corey Casey and Stygian almost killed each other! I was here when the power of three were running this place like a wrestling promotion should be run, before they stepped down and the place became something no one was proud of!

Luke Wolfe can’t even claim to be apart of any era, didn’t he just start out here in the promotion? Has the kid even accomplished anything in the Insurgency? Didn’t think so, then again the same thing could be said about everyone in this match besides me! Luke is more worried about his future, about not making it out of Boston in one piece, the kid has to realize he’s about to become a free agent for the umpteenth time in his career! If I was you Luke I would be licking my chops, this is your audition tape for any promotion you plan on going to after these doors close. No doubt your going to be filling out applications with a fresh lost on your resume but at least you gave it the old college try right? Then again you haven’t really done anything in your career have you? I guess I can’t blame you for being a little worried about going into this match, you one bad move from collecting food stamps and unemployment checks for the rest of your life

But hey, at least then you’ll be worth something other then a guy who pissed away every opportunity he was ever given

Tabula Rasa is in the same boat as Luke, he’s pissed about being apart of a pyramid match, he’s pissed about being booked in the opener. I’m sorry but who the hell is Tabula Rasa again? What era is he representing? Did you guys take a second and think maybe just maybe you’re in the opening act because no one even knows who you fellas are? Luke and Tabula are guys who missed out when this promotion was at its peek! Of course that’s probably no secret, guys like Luke and Rasa could have never cut it in my era, hell they wouldn’t even be qualified to clean the bathrooms! I did find it cute when Tabula called me the poster boy of mediocrity, do yourself a favor cock monkey and take a look back to my era. I was the face of this promotion while you were beating your meat to my success! I’ve won championships here in the Insurgency, what have you won in your career?

Now tell me again who’s the poster boy for mediocrity?

Then there is Zack Lifer, I would say this is a homecoming for you, but who the fuck would I be kidding, the Yankee’s would get a better reception then you. Then again the folks in Boston probably have no fucking idea who you are! I swear this is the theme of this opening bout, three guys who have no business taking part of this historical night against someone who mattered around here at one time!

I would say I’m worried about entering the cages against the three of you, but this match is going to be nothing more then a one sided ass kicking contest. No worries though, in my time in this game I’ve grown accustomed to carrying dead weight and making them look good. It’s fitting I get to do it one last time.

This is my curtain call!

And it’s going to be a fucking walk in the park!
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