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1986-1989
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“If killing the neighbors dog Rex was my first experience with the darkness, murdering my foster dad Jim was the first time that I found myself fully consumed by it.

Don’t misinterpret my words, Jim deserved to die. He was a mean old fuck of a drunk who took out his shortcomings out on his family, namely me. By the time that I decided to kill him, I had already accumulated quite the collection of scars from this man. A thin scar above my right eye from him slamming one of those old heavy box shaped rotary phones upside my face, ripping open a cut above my eyebrow in the process. Another one on my left thumb where he had thrown a glass ashtray at me, and to protect my face I shielded my eyes with my hand, resulting in a deep and nasty cut where my thumb and hand meet. Numerous cigarette burn marks covered my arms because Jim thought it was funny when he would stubb his butts out on my skin, and various scars, all shapes and sizes covered the rest of my body head to toe. Needless to say, he was not a nice man, and in my opinion, completely deserved what he got in the end, but what kind of child makes the decision to take a life and then actually follows through?

The same type who then decides to frame his foster mother for the crime.

I was going to kill her, send her into the same dark Hell that I had sent Jim to, but then I saw the bruising. Jim was abusive to Myrtle just as much as he was to me. I quickly realized that she was going to be my ticket to freedom. I removed Jim’s body from the scene, opened a wound on my palm and added enough my blood to the mix to ensure it was found. I put Myrtles prints on the knife and some of our blood on her gown, all without waking her. I then said my goodbyes to this life as I left with Jim’s body in the trunk of a car that I had stolen a few blocks away, and hoped that my attempt at a frame job would prove enough to keep anyone from looking for me.

I dumped the car and the body in the river later that night, and with a stolen $50 bill from Jim’s wallet, I began my journey to a new life.

Fourteen years old and living on the streets after murdering one parent and possibly sending the other to prison for my actions. Hell of a story right?

See, this story isn’t about the child that I once was, but instead, it's about the monster that was let loose. The darkness that had laid dormant inside of me until such a time that I needed for it to take control in order to save me from that which I was unable to save myself.

I spent the next three years surviving anyway that I could. That involved a lot of stealing, conning, and eventually, selling drugs. At the time, I had migrated up to Philadelphia, the city of brotherly love proved to be a spot that I would flourish.I began working for a man named Johnny who was a dealer. This guy could get you anything that you desired. If you wanted weed, he carried numerous strains. If you wanted pain pills, you just had to name your type and dose, cause Johnny had an entire network of mules pulling in for him. Cocaine, acid, shrooms? Johnny’s got it all!

I met Johnny through a friend at the time. Another runaway, like myself, who I had become acquainted with due to our shared love of the local arcades. After sharing a mostly true version of how I had gotten to where I was in life, Danny revealed a similar story to mine. A bond of sorts grew from our shared abusive past, and eventually Danny would introduce me to Johnny as a way to make a few bucks. Johnny, like I said, was a drug dealer, but Johnny liked to use minors to push his products on the streets due to the fact that they wouldn’t face the same criminal charges as he would if caught.

I spent the next few months pushing for Johnny, and life was the best it had ever been. I had money in my pocket pretty much at all times. I ate well, I partied hard, and I even took over half of the rent in place of Danny’s old roommate, so I had my own bed for the first time in years. For as bad of a reputation as drugs may have, for me they had become a savior of sorts. I was able to improve my life through the addictions of others, but with my eighteenth birthday on the horizon, I knew that I would need to find another way to generate cash or else end up back where I started.

It was around this time that I saw an advert for a wrestling school that was local, or atleast local enough that I could drive there in just over an hours time. The Monster Factory was a fairly new school at the time. It had only been around for about three years and was ran by Larry Sharpe and Buddy Rogers. They had already produced one guy that I knew of, Bam Bam Bigelow, a marquee name in the WWF at the time.

This was it, this was my future, and The Monster Factory was my ticket into this life and that darkness that I had given control to was going to make sure that people took notice of the new guy…

(TBC)


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Present Day
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California?

I’m not entirely sure how I ended up here. The last thing that I remember was leaving the doctor after having my knee checked out. It’s not uncommon for me to blackout from time to time and have little to no recognition of however long I was out. It’s a shitty way to live, but better than the alternative. For years I felt like I was just a passenger in my own body, now, at least I have some semblance of control, even if I lose that control from time to time.

Whatever my reasoning for coming to California is, I need to get my ass to Papua New Guinea for some previously scheduled promotional appearances. I called for a taxi before gathering up my bags. As I piled up all of my belongings on the bed, once bag in particular caught my attention.

What’s this? I wondered.

I recognized this bag well, it was a belt carrier. The XWF supplies them whenever you win a championship, but I don’t have any championships right now… Not that I know of anyway.

I tossed the bag up onto the bed and just stared at it for a moment as I desperately tried to piece things together. I had a very vague memory of being handed a belt, but it wasn’t clear enough to be anything more than a dream.

I leaned down and slowly pulled the zipper on the bag open.

Oh shit! I thought.

The name on the belt wasn’t mine.


*HONK HONK*


I quickly zipped the bag shut and gathered all of my things. I met the driver outside and with nothing more than a hello, he helped me load my bags into the trunk. Once we were in the car however, it was a whole different story with this guy.

”Of all the fares I could have picked up, I get (CENSORED) in my taxi. What a lucky day!”

I tried to ignore him and send a strong signal that I wasn’t in a mood to talk by staring out the window. He didn’t seem to mind though, and just kept chatting away.

”You know, the first time I saw you wrestle, it was 1999, maybe 2000. You were defending the GWFO World Title against Arrow. That was a hell of a match man. Ever since that day, I knew that it would only be a matter of time before you hit the bigtime, and look at you now!”

Ignoring him didn’t work. So I figure maybe I’ll just humor him to a degree. Keep my answers short and maybe he’ll get the hint.

”Thanks…”

”I’m not kidding man, you’re definitely in my all time top five!”

I don’t reply to that. Instead I wonder who this tool could possibly rank above me.

”You know, I’ve always wondered. What really happened to you for all those years? Were you injured, fired, or did ya just get tired of the spotlight?”

”I was tied up with other business.”

”I hear that man, life’s just too short to do everything that we would like to do huh?”

I respond with nothing more than an awkward smirk. The truth behind it being the fact that I am finding it increasingly harder to not end this man's life right here and now. After a short bit of silence, he continues on with the questions.

”So, what made you decide to come back?”

”Can you spare me the questions and just drive?”

”Aw come on, tell you what. Answer that question and I won’t make a peep for the rest of the drive.”

I swear, if you break that vow, you’ll never make a peep again.

”Let’s just say that I have unfinished business with my…. Brother”

”mmmhmmm, I knew it. Why else would Se....ACK!”

When I killed Rex, I did it to prove that I could kill something that I loved.

When I killed Jim, it was to protect myself from further harm.

But this man…

All he did was annoy me…



SQEEEEEEEEeeeeEEEEEECH






SMASH!









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PROMO TIME!
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”The darkness within this vessel has been known by many names.

Vampire…

Symbiote...

Demon…

Over my lifetime, this darkness has fought for control of its host. Sometimes as a whisper, other times a scream. The darkness has used all forms of trickery to try and assume dominance. All of which have failed.

But now...

A never ending battle, all within this head, finally comes to a close. The darkness that lives within me has finally come bursting out, and that darkness is me!

Finn Kuhn claims to know what face lies under this mask, but he hasn't a clue what manner of beast he draws ever closer to facing as Warfare approaches.

Finn, allow me to ask you a question. Why are you in the XWF? What motivates you to push on day after day, match after match? Is it all simply for the pursuit of a belt? A title that many, myself included, question if you're really prepared to carry? Or is there something more? Perhaps you enjoy the violence? The feeling if a man's limbs snapping as you apply pressure? The sight of his blood staining the canvas as you smash in his skull with a chair? Maybe you enjoy the feeling of control that you have over lesser men whenever they step into the ring with you? Knowing that their very lives become your playthings, and you can do with them as you will…

See, these are the things that motivate me. These are the reasons that I convinced myself to return to the XWF. It is for these reasons that I have fought so hard to gain control in the first place!

You say that you know who I am? Perhaps you do, but you only know a face, not the monster hiding just beneath it's flesh. Unlike you, I'm not driven by titles. I care little for glory. My reason for being is simple. Carnage, mayhem, bloodlust, and it's your blood that I want to taste next Finn. I long for its warmth to caress my skin as I kiss the flesh from your bones.

You think that you're stepping into the ring with a relic. Another easy victory to help propel you to the title that you so desire, but in reality, you're in a collision course with an entity the likes of which you have never encountered before.

So go ahead and continue to look past me. Concern yourself more with a Twitter feud. Concern yourself more with a potential tag team title shot. Concern yourself more with Micheal Graves and Chris Chaos. Because the more that you focus on them, and the more you assume that you have me figured out, the easier I'll find my task of dismantling you piece by piece and exposing you for the child that you are!

And that is what you are Finn Kuhn, a child. Impulsive and naive. You're quick to run your mouth, quick to boast, quick to claim that you are the best, but also quick to prove otherwise.

Chris Chaos isn't the same man he once was. A fact that even you admit. Yet when you beat him, you put that feather in your cap and treated it as some sort of accomplishment. Danny Imperial succumbed to a fluke loss. An eye poke and a roll up. A win’s a win, but you'll quickly find that cute tricks like those will find a much lower success rate with me, and just like was the case with Jim Caedus, you'll find that I'm a completely different beast that what you're accustomed to.

Of course, I think that you’re perhaps seeing that already, are you not? When you released that first promo, you seemed so sure. Of course, after I channeled the smart ass attitude of the man that you claimed that I was, you seem to have backed down. Why is that Kaiser? Wouldn’t me being Micheal Graves only work to your benefit? It would mean that you were right, that your strategy was sound.

It would mean that you stood a chance at defeating me!

No, I think that you saw through my facade. I think that you see what evil lies behind these eyes, and now you fear what pain they may bring your way.

So what now Finn? Do I just continue to talk to myself while you continue to pick fights with hasbeens that were prematurely added to the Top 50 list? Or do you search deep within yourself and find the man that is cowering within the boy before me?

You showed up to last weeks Warfare looking for a fight. You begged for Chaos and you physically attacked Graves. You did everything that you could think of to try and get someone, anyone to take notice of you. Well Finn Kuhn, I took notice, and now that you have my undivided attention, I expect you to prove your worth.

Or am I just wasting my time with “The Kaiser”?