CHAPTER 1: The Kidnapping

It was night time in Miami Snow fell from the dark sky in sheets, blanketing the ground. It was a bitterly cold night. It seemed that winter had finally come after all the threats over the past few weeks. Even though snow in Miami, FL was extremely rare…there that shit was.

Jason Cash's beat up old trailer home lit up the night like a christmas light. Really, there were still Christmas lights hanging from the dilapidated building. The place looked quiet. It was late at night and Jason's family was probably in bed. A black car sat outside, obviously ZT security. A truck pulled slowly into the drive, its near constant back firing being loud enough to wake the entire neighborhood. Jason stumbled out as the door opened. He looked bad. He was missing part of his beard. His face was cut. He looked like he had been in a car wreck.

Of course the man had been in a bar fight. It was always a fight when it came to Jason Cash. He didn’t take any shit and loved to run his mouth. The guy was, however, tough as nails.

He made his way to the makeshift porch, looking back at the black car. This was definitely ZT Security, but something was odd. Usually, whomever was watching the house met Jason at the driveway. No one did this time. Jason got a sinking feeling in his gut. Something just wasn't right. Something was very wrong. Jason looked at the door to his trailer. It looked ok. It didn't look any worse than it had when he left. He looked back to the car. He could see a figure inside. He sighed to himself.

"Sumbitch done fell asleep."

Jason spit tobacco on the ground and touched the knob. That sinking feeling rushed back. Jason didnt particularly like this feeling. It made him nervous.

"Baby? You up?"

There was no answer. He was expecting an answer. A fuck you. Anything. And so he called out again. "Baby? You up?".

There was, again, no answer. He twisted the knob. The door opened with a loud creak. He stepped inside and looked around. Everything looked ok. The old yellow couch was there. His beat up old, brown recliner was there. There was a plate of fried chicken for him on the kitchen counter. The tv was still on, showing some infomercial about Viagra. Everything seemed normal.

"Baby?"

Nothing. Not even a whimper. Jason's heart sank. There should have been something. Anything. "Shut the fuck up. You're gonna wake Molly." Anything. But the only sound to be heard were Jason's footsteps.

His cowboy boots echoed on the vinyl flooring as he made his way down the hall. He checked his bedroom. Where his wife Nicole was usually sleeping there was no one. Jason's heart sank. He walked further, thinking that maybe Nicole and the baby were sleeping in Zoey's room. He opened the door and turned on the light. There was no one there. Frantic now, he ran through the trailer, forgetting his injuries. He made his way out of the trailer.

He walked across the makeshift porch and across the large yard to the black car that was always there. He tapped on the window, seeing the man inside. There was no answer here either. Cash tapped harder. No answer.

"Wake the fuck up."

He reached down and opened the door. The person inside fell out. He was a young man. He had blonde hair, wore a black suit. There was a knife sticking out of his chest, along with a note. Tears filled our Hero's eyes. He knew what the note said. His family had been taken. He pulled the knife from the security guys chest, ignoring the blood that splattered.

"Erik Black,

If you're reading this, then you already know that we have Jason's family. I want you to know that this is your fault, as well as the fault of the rest of you. I want what's mine. Give it to me and his family will be returned to him. If you do not then you probably have an idea as to what I will do."

Jason dropped the paper onto the body. It stuck like glue. Tears filled Jason's eyes. His family was in danger. They were kidnapped. He didn't know who had taken them. He didn't know anything. All he knew was that he would do anything to get them back.

He grabbed his phone and dialed a few numbers. He'd called Erik Black. If anyone had an idea, it would be him. The call went straight to voicemail. Jason lost it. He sobbed into the phone. Our tough guy hero was reduced to sobs. "Erik..theyre gone. My family...My girls. They're", Jason started.

It hit him like a freight train. He didn't even have time to turn around before he saw only darkness. His world had gone black.

The following has been paid for by Erik Black

The room was dark. The only light came from a stained glass window that sat high on the wall. It lit the room up with brilliant blues and reds.

Erik Black sat on a throne. He wore a charcoal grey suit, red tie, and a golden crown. His icy blue eyes stared into the camera.

Hello Michael. How are you? Training, I hope. I say that because your performance at War Games left a lot to be desired. After all..I managed to go through your entire team, eliminated half of you on my own before I was screwed over by that referee. And I may add that my final elimination was yourself.

I faced off with each of you. I took everything each of you had and kept coming. When you thought you had me, I proved why I’m the best in the business. I waited patiently for my opening…and then I struck swiftly. There was very little any of you could do.

Erik took off the crown and sat it beside the throne he sat on.

So, as I said, I hope you’re training. I hope you’re learning some maeuvers that may help you survive our match. No. I don’t think any training you do will help you win. After all…One can learn any maneuver he wants, they don’t work if you have no fighting acumen. That’s why guys like Beared War Pig fall to me on a regular basis. He knows how to apply the maneuver but not when. That is much like yourself. I’d suggest putting yourself in the most dangerous situations and learning how to get out of them. Willing yourself to survive life or death situations is the only way you’re going to be able to even sniff a win against myself.

That’s simply how things are. I’m no normal man. Rickson Gracie told me himself. He said that there was something about me. He said that I seemed to know his attack before even he did. He dubbed me Simply the Best due to my fighting accumen. He said that my will to win helped greatly but that there was something odd…something of a higher power. I’ve never quite understood what he meant….and I probably never will. What I do know is that it’s rather easy for me to dispose of those like yourself.

I understand that you’re somewhat of an assassin. I could be wrong about it. I don’t care either way. I won’t be bothered to actually do the research for myself. I simply do not care. After all..It doesn’t really matter either way. Not against someone like myself anyway. It may matter against someone like that fat hobo BWP, or the other fat hobo with a dick fetish. Those are guys who can barely stumble out of bed in the morning. Me? I go through opponents like you as if you weren’t even there. I make opponents of your level rethink their situation. I make you wonder if this business is really one you want to be in. After facing me, the answer is usually a resounding no.

Erik blinked before letting his icy blue eyes stare into the camera once more.

Michael. I’ve garnered a two and one record in my time in XWF. I’ve only lost when that fat hobo decided to stick his nose in my business. He won’t do it again, I assure you. And then when I was screwed over by the ref at War Games. We both know that my shoulders weren’t down. I had you pinned via German suplex. I was screwed, but I digress. I will not be screwed over again. Not this week. The winner is the last Man standing after all. And after seeing your ability at the pay per view? I’m confident that you can’t win. After all….Youre no more dangerous than a small child.

Do you understand the reason I want you to train? It has nothing to do with me. I’ve come to the conclusion that no one in this God forsaken company can stand to to toe with me. No. It’s for your own sake. I would guess that you have family…somewhere in this world. I’d gather that they want you to come home to them. You need to be able to protect yourself in order to go home to them. If you can’t protect yourself against what I bring, you just may not make it home. Fuck. You may not make it home anyway.

What I’m trying to say is….simple. I could end everything you are rather easily if I really want to. Think about that. Think about the family……

Fade

HEY LOOOK ARE ME I'S AND CUCKCOCK ALL DAYS DERRRRR HUH HUH HUH GKUG GLUG GIMME YOUR SPERM CELL!

My sig got edited to match my overly shitty behavior so now I can play tough guy asshole IC anywhere I go. Except at home where my mother will beat my o-ring to keep me in line.