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~~Sean Falcon~~ · (04-16-2015)

Date: Wednesday, April 15, 2015
Location: The Falconi Family Residence
City, State: Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania

It has been quite some time since I've bestowed myself upon the Xtreme Wrestling Federation. It has been awhile since I felt it necessary to grace you with my presence. For those of you who do not know me, and I imagine that's so damn many of you, I was born Sean Falconi the Third in the Steel City of Pittsburgh. In the ring, I go by Sean Falcon. My father, and his father before him, were Pittsburgh steel tycoons during the industrial boom. As a result, a vast fortune was established.

Before I broke into the professional wrestling business, I owned a string of Falconi car dealerships all over the Pittsburgh area. I have since sold all of them off, most all of them, still retaining the Falconi name. I was a wealthy man, thanks to my father and grandfather. Having been born with a silver spoon in my mouth, I never had to work a day in my life. I routinely visited Las Vegas. So much so, that I owned a home out there.

At any rate, I frequented invitational high roller poker tournaments having gone undefeated for five years running. In the process, I banked even more millions. I was cocky. I was pompous. I was arrogant. I was undefeated and I had no reason to believe that luck would change for me any time soon. In the heat of the moment, I bet everything I had. My homes, my cars, my entire fortune. I was put in my place. I was humbled beyond words. I lost the tournament and went home to Pittsburgh flat broke.

When the news reached my mother she was none too happy with me. After all, her son had just squandered her late husbands fortune worth a few hundred million dollars. A result of this saw my mother lay a guilt trip on me that no son could ignore. She charged me with working my ass off, something I have never done in my life, to recoup my fathers lost fortune. She contacted an old friend of my fathers the lived in Brooklyn. He agreed to house me and give me work. He had said that there was plenty of room for advancement in his... business.

I agreed to travel to New York to meet the man that was my fathers friend. A man by the name of Dominic Castellano. I'm not sure how much my mother actually knew of him, but the man was a legitimate mob boss. Of course though, the mafia doesn't exist.

The truth of the matter is that I was both excited and scared at the same time. I mean, I was a wealthy man, rich beyond what any normal human, or five of them for that matter, could spend in a lifetime. And here I was, face to face with one of the most feared men in the mafia underworld. It started small. Busting knees and intimidating witnesses. Soon it advanced to jacking cars and delivering them to chop shops scattered throughout the five boroughs.

Then, that's when things started to turn ugly. I was ordered to kill a man who was threatening to shut down one of Don Castellano's legitimate businesses. As any man would, I did was I was told to do and to be completely honest, I was starting to enjoy my new job. I thought that taking a mans life would be impossible for me. I always thought of myself as better than other people, but when you're staring down the barrel of handgun and a man is scared out of his mind, you start to think maybe you're not so different. He probably had a wife, just like I do. He certainly had parents, like I do. Maybe brothers and sisters, just like me. Friends and family that loved him, surely. Just like my friends and my family loves me. The point is, when you dig right down to the roots of a man, no one is really all that different.

I pulled that trigger.

I ended his life.

I was sick to my stomach over it, but I did what I was asked to do. Most normal everyday people can't say 'that's the first time I ever killed a man', let alone the fact that it would not be the last. It is in the nature of this business that people will die. It's never easy. It's never fun. It's never enjoyable. But you do whatever it is you have to do to in order to survive the rough life that you live. Defying orders is like signing your own death warrant.

After that, the shit rolled down hill. Unbeknownst to me, a civil war of sorts was brewing. Vincenzo DeSanta, the underboss in the Castellano Family, and the three Caporegime's had approached me about doing something huge. See, the Family was in a bit of financial trouble as a lot of the assets were frozen amid an investigation by the feds into Castellano's criminal activity. DeSanta, always on the look out for new sources of revenue, decided to get into the drug trade without Castellano's permission. The two had a bit of a falling out and it was DeSanta's fear that the Family would collapse. The order was to hit Castellano.

Unknown to DeSanta, one of the Caporegime's, Giovanni Landucci, was an informant for the Boss. He'd meet in private with the Consigliere, Salvatore Graziano, and inform him so that he could tell the Boss exactly what DeSanta was up to. See, Dominic Castellano is by all accounts, a man racked with paranoia. He didn't trust many people. When he found out DeSanta was planning to have him whacked, he pretty much lost his head. He ordered that DeSanta and everyone else associated with him, including his family, be taken out. This order, he delivered to me.

I had a choice to make. And it wasn't an easy one. At least not as easy as you might think. There I was, younger and more naive than I am now. I was promised the world by DeSanta. On one hand, I would be cutting down the friend of my father. The man that swore he'd protect me. The man that swore he'd help me pay back my debts by employing me. The man that let me into his inner-circle when I was nothing but a soldier.

On the other hand, I thought, and later realized it to be true, that DeSanta was the jealous type. Maybe he was setting me up to take out the big guy so that he would assume control of the Castellano Family. Maybe after I did the job on Dominic Castellano, DeSanta would have me whacked. At the end of the day, I was in Castellano's inner-circle and DeSanta wasn't trusted.

The one thing for sure about mob life? Nothing's for sure.

I trusted my gut instinct. My gut told me that DeSanta would have me whacked when I was done. Giovanni Landucci helped me realize my instinct was correct. Yet, I still had this dreaded decision hanging over my head like a black cloud hanging over a funeral.

It's hard to believe that that was nearly two years ago. I'm a made man. Those that opposed Dominic Castellano are in the ground. DeSanta, the underboss. Gianetta and Roselli, the caporegime's. All three of them lie in box for what they intended to do. Due to our loyalty, and our persistence in finding an end to the civil war within the Family, Giovanni Landucci is now the underboss.

And me?

I'm the Consigliere to the notoriously ruthless Dominic Castellano.

And I've just repurchased the Falconi family home in Pittsburgh.

Things are certainly looking up.

To say that I'm excited to be back is a bit of an over statement. The truth is, I don't love wrestling. I do it, because I'm good at it. I do it, because I like to hurt others. I do it, because I like the fame and the glory that comes with winning. I do it, because the money is good. Or at least, it can be.

The reason I came back is not because I want to be here, I mean, I don't know if the management of the Xtreme Wrestling Federation knows it our not, but I've been going about my business for nearly two years without having a single match. And they've paid me very well to do it.

Yet, here I am.

Maybe it is only now that Kirk MacClay is the man in charge of Madness. Maybe he himself, or one of his underlings decided to take a look at their Madness roster contracts and noticed that they've been paying all these guys to sit at home.

Feast or famine.

The winner keeps his contract, the others go the hell home and get fired.

Meh, I guess I'll just have to win then. I mean, if I get fired, then how the hell would I get to sit home in Pittsburgh or in Brooklyn in the Castellano Mansion and get paid thousands of dollars to do nothing? Easy money.

So, I'll show up for this match. I'll do what I typically do. Win. I'll keep my job. Then I'll take my happy ass back to the Steel City, back to Brooklyn, and I'll get paid to do more nothing for another two years.

Of course...

...I do have an idea that intrigues me...

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