Chapter 1: A meeting of minds.

In Washington DC, everyone is corrupt. Everyone says that they arent. They all say that they're for their constituents. They all say that they care. But the reality is that they simply don’t. No one does. They only care about money. This means that they'll all take a bribe for anything. Politicians will sell out their own mothers for a dollar. They'll sell out their entire families for a few hundred thousand. Thats ismply how things worked. You want something done? You paid.

I sat in a lush office that was decorated in mohogany and red. There were shelves loaded with books about the different laws of the world. There was a globe in the right corner. There was a large mohogany desk directly at the back of the large office. Behind that desk, dressed in a black suit, was Newt Gingrich.

Newt Gingrich was once a congressman from Georgia. He was very accomplished. He'd served in the House of Representatives for damn near thirty years. He'd helped oversee welfare reform in the ninties. ON the surface, he was a good man. He got things done. He did good for his people and the country. But that is only on the surface. The reality, which is very different from the way things seem? He was just another crooked politician. How else could he have gotten his way? He was basically Kevin Spacey's character from House of Cards. The man was conniving and he would throw anyone under the bus to get what he wants.

On the other side of that desk stood myself. My blue eyes contrasted sharply with my blood red suit. I looked like the devil himself in that suit. Some have said that I wear the suit for its intimidation factor. They would all be wrong. I never needed to do such things. Everyone I’ve ever dealt with knew that I would kill them on a whim if I truly wanted to.

"Welcome, Erik. Please sit down.", Newt Gingrich said softly as he shook my hand.

I held his grasp for a few seconds to long. Newt had to shake off the pain with a nervous grin. I noticed and a slight smile crossed his face.

"How have you been, Newt? It's been a while.", I said as I sat down in the black leather chair that sat on the other side of Newt's desk.

"Tiring to tell you the truth. This country is going to shit. You have black lives matter protesting every thing. You have college kids needing to go to counseling over Donald Trump", Newt started.

"And you have Donald Trump being crazy on Twitter", I said.

We shared a laugh. Newt's was genuine. I had to force mine out. I never liked showing any type of emotion at all, especially when I wanted to really get down to business.

"I was very sorry to hear about the rape case against you. You guys are doing alot of good in that city and I'm sure that set you back quite a bit.", Newt said.

I nodded my head. "I was as well. It’s still an ongoing case. The allegations are, of course, false. I would never rape a woman. We'll find out who it was. And when we do.. Well..You know what happens then.”, I said.

Newt sat there listening. He was always listening to see where he could sneak in, make a little money.

" You know. I can help you there. I do know a few people", Newt started.

I cut him off again.

"You can stop right there, Newt. I know your games.”, I said.

Newt was taken back.

"I'm just trying to help.", Newt said.

I nodded my head.

"You're just trying to get your hand in another pot. I'm not paying you any more than I already am.", I said.

"Why are you here, Erik?"

I thought for a moment. I hadnt had to visit any of my government contacts in quite some time. In fact, it had been years. The last time would have been when Zero Tolerance first struck out on their own. I simply didn’t really need to meet with them. I sent a check and they did whatever I wanted.

" I have a shipment arriving in Baltimore in two days.", I said.

I knew that Newt always played both sides. Telling Newt anything was like yelling it out of a window.

Newt thought this over for a moment with a sly smile.

"We never meet about those things. You have enough of the police force in your pocket, that I never really need to talk to any one.", Newt Gingrich said with his shit eating smile.

It was safe to say that the two of us didnt really get along. I used the man for his contacts all over the country. Newt did it all for the money I paid him. It was a business relationship that wasnt exactly going great.

"Things have changed, Newt. I'm sure my shipments are being watched.", I said with my always emotionless voice.

"So what do you want from me?", Newt asked.

I eyed the man for a moment, trying to choose my words.

"I need a time that the police with stay away. If this shipment is being watched, there will be violence and it would be best if I were able to handle this without outside interference. I have a very important match coming up. I can’t worry about a shipment of guns getting found by the wrong people. Robert Main is already enough to deal with. Pile on everything else..and", I said.

Newt nodded. "It's going to cost you extra. I mean….You have a camera right there."

I didnt like it, but I had the money.

"It'll be in your account by tonight. And if I or my people are bothered? Well...You know.", I said as i stood up and buttoned my suit jacket. Newt didn’t like what was said. He took it as a threat.

"Was that a threat?"

I simply looked down at the still seated man. "I dont make threats, Newt. You know that.", I answered.

I made his way to the door. My phone rang just as he opened it.

[Color] "Hello?"[/color], I asked. I paused while the person on the other end of the line spoke.

"Yes. I'll be there in a few hours.", I said before putting my phone back in my pocket. I stopped and turned around.

"Oh...and Newt? Don’t screw this up.''
………….

Let me tell you a story, but before I start, I want you to know that I do not compare my background to anyone else. This isn’t a dick measuring contest. You’ve probably already lost that one to that fat Hobbit Peter Gilmore anyway. No. I simply warn my opponents. I’m, at the very least, kind hearted enough to do those things.

As you may know, my family was murdered in front of me. My father shot in the head. My mother raped. My brother and grandma were killed in a drive by shooting only a few years later.

I went from foster home to foster home after that. Each one was worse than the last. Eventually I just said fuck it and embarked on my own quest to find my place in the world.

I was a boy, Bob. Mind if I call you Bob? I don’t give a fuck. You’re Bob.

Now, as I was saying. I was a boy in this vast world. Things started out ok. I’d make a little money helping old ladies carry their groceries. This was enough for a bite of food every now and then, but not enough to fill my stomach.

I was a thirteen years old boy out there on those streets. Eventually hunger takes control. The sheer pain and emptiness of starving is something I wouldn’t put on anyone. Not even you, Bob. It’s enough to make a person throw their morals away and do whatever they needed to do in order to survive.

And that’s when I met him. His name was Zaslaw. He ran a fighting ring. At first he looked at me as if I were crazy. How could a boy hope to survive an actual fight with a desperate, full grown man? Well. One who is starving would

So I fought. And I won. There was something about fighting that just came naturally to me. I could tell what my opponent was going to do simply by looking at his stance. I had to be ruthless, however, as I didn’t know any real fighting techniques. It was basically clawing eyes, nut shots, and throat chops for me back then.

Zaslaw made a lot of money off of me back then. I made money of my own. I’d decided that I liked this fighting thing. I’d decided that I wanted to learn more. I wanted to be the best to ever walk this Earth.

I made my way down to Brazil. I’d bought a bus ticket with the last bit of money I had. That’s when Rickson Gracie found me. He’d seen me in a street brawl over a loaf of bread and decided to train me.

He taught me most of what I know today. He taught me Gracie Jui Jutsu, a dangerous form of self defense. He said that I was the best he’d ever seen. I’d even beaten Royce. I never lost. Rickson said that my fighting prowess was a gift from God.

I’m going to end my story there and continue it at another point. Now…there is a reason for telling you this. And you can blame your narrator for this but I’m sure you feel the same way. I’m not like any wrestler you’ve ever been in the ring with. I’m unlike anything you know.

I’ve been fighting all my life, Bob. This isn’t just something I decided to do one day. I wasn’t the kid I’m sure you were. I never had dreams of being a wrestler. I never “took my vitamins and said my prayers.”. I never had that chance. I was far too busy trying to find food and a place to sleep. This path was chosen for me. My abilities were given to me for this reason. I am the ultimate fighter. I’m beyond you, Bob.

Im sure you’ll find some way to twist those words. I’m actually sure you will, but that won’t make them any less true. Life hit me with everything it had. And here I am..standing up…defying everything you are…warning you of what is to come. Sure I may repeat myself at times, but that is simply due to the complete ineptitude of this roster.

Turning Point will be exactly that for you, You’ve grown accustomed to facing those who shouldn’t be doing what we do. I’m sure that’s how you got that massive ego of yours. The problem there is that your ego is far too big for your ability. You walk around thinking of yourself as Billy badass. The reality is that you barely have skill enough to compete with anyone who isn’t completely .

Prepare yourself, Main. Go take your vitamins. Hell shoot another commercial. Do what you need. At Turning Point, you fall.

...................

Chapter 2: Information

The basement of my house was dungeonlike. There was very little light. The place smelled musty. The walls were concrete. The room was large. In the center was a chair. Strapped to that chair, with a black rag in his mouth, looking quite disheveled, was a Latin man. He was older, probably in his forties. His hair was black and thinning.

This was the same man who had delivered the disc that showed Jason being tortured.

As I’d searched for clues, something hit me. Who had signed in at the front desk? Someone had to have signed in.

“Miguel Gonzalez”

A spotlight shine in this man's eyes, keeping him from being able to really see anything. In the corner, on a stool, sat Ivan.

Now. I’m betting that all of you out there in tv land are wondering exactly how this poor excuse of a man Got here. Well. That would be too harsh. Let that sink in for a bit. Especially you, Bob.

" who sent you?", I asked.

He knew this voice. He squirmed a bit. Not due to being uncomfortable, but due to being afraid.

I showed no emotion as I asked the question again. I knew the man couldn't answer. There was a rag in this man's mouth after all. The man simply squirmed once more.

"Ivan.", I said.

Ivan knew what to do. Hed been a trained guard of mine for years. He was a fairly large man who stood well over six feet and had the appearance of an 80’s movie character known as Drago.

He stood up and walked over to Miguel. He grabbed the man violently by his black hair and ripped the rag from his mouth.

I stood in front of the prisoner, still wearing the blood red suit I’d always saved for these occasions

The prisoner's eyes widened at the sight. He'd heard about me obviously, but from where? I looked down, my icy blue eyes nearly staring a hole through his prisoner.

"Who sent you with that disc?", I asked.

"I've already answered. You know who sent me.", the prisoner said, his voice shaking with fear.

I eyed my prisoner for a moment, as if I were thinking about what to do next. I sighed to myself.

"Look. I dont know who you are, but I assume you have a family. I'd rather not have to hurt you. I'd much rather you tell me what I need to know.", I said. I awaited his response.

"You already know his name. You know who it was."

I shook my head. "That isn't the answer Im looking for.", I said with another sigh.

I adjusted my pants and kicked the prisoner in his right leg. The prisoner whimpered with pain, trying to grasp his leg but his arms were tied.

"Are you going to talk? Or should I continue?", I asked.

"You already know.", was the answer.

I kicked again, unleashing a devastating kick to the right leg.

"You already know!"

I shook my head. He was still lieing to me. I kicked again. A large crack echoed through the basement. The prisoners leg was broken just below the knee. He whimpered in pain as sweat poured down his face.

"I want you to know that I truly have no problem killing you tonight. I would rather not as the cleanup can be quite...messy. What happens here Is up to you.", I said flatly.

"You..al..ready..know.", the prisoner whimpered through sobs.

I didnt say a word. I simply kicked the man's left leg. Another loud crack echoed through the basement, but was quickly drowned out by the prisoner's sobs. His leg was broken just below the knee. A sliver of bone stuck out of the man's blue jeans. Blood dripped onto the floor.

"Who was it?"

The prisoner whimpered. I adjust my pants for another kick to one of the already broken legs.

"...please.", the prisoner whimpered.

I kicked him once more in the already broken right leg.

"He...he said...you..would...al..ready...know.", the prisoner said between whimpers.

"But I still dont know who "he" is. Give me a name.", I added.

The prisoner shook his head.

"Is that a no? Or do you not know his name? You’re being almost as dumb as Robert Main's narrator.” I said.

"His...name....I..dont...know..it.", the prisoner said as he tried not to sob.

"So you work for a man and you do not know his name?", I asked.

The prisoner nodded.

"I should kill you right now for being stupid. Now you’re even worse than Main's narrator. And he thinks I give a shit about Main's dead buddy.”, I told my prisoner.

The man's eyes grew wide. "Please....dont...I..have...a....family!", The prisoner pleaded.

I stared at the man blankly. It was as if he was thinking about something.

I began to reach into my jacket.

"No! Please! I dont...know it. I've..never..met..him.", the prisoner pleaded.

I stopped my motion.

"Things just get better and better, dont they?", I asked.

Again, there was no answer. I would have to wait. And while I was a bit of a patient man. I wanted my answer. I kicked his prisoner in the already broken right leg. The prisoner screamed in pain. I ignored the scream and kicked again...and again..and again.

"I need an answer. This is all on you, Miguel."

“Marriot! Miami! Tejada!”

A single gunshot rang out.

The prisoner sat slumped over. I reached back into my blood red jacket.

"This was your fault.", I said out loud.

II looked over to Ivan. "Clean it up."

My phone rang. I reached into my pocket and took out my phone. "Yes. Tomorrow night.", I said before hanging up and shoving my phone back into his pocket. I looked back one last time to make sure Ivan was doing what he'd been told before exiting.

….,………..

Main’s little narrator would have the world believe that I fear him. I’m not sure exactly where the man gets this idea. I fear no man. Fear does not exist with me. I have no concept of it. I implore Bobby to get with his dear narrator and tell me where he’s getting this. Is he getting this from Main himself? Possibly. I don’t know. I don’t care. If Main thinks I fear him…then..well…hes in for a rude awakening.

But since we're on the topic of fear, let’s go with it. Fear is a hell of a thing. Personally, I’ve been through too much in my life to fear any person. When you’ve seen what I have, you tend to not get scared when some one says bad things.

With that said, everyone is afraid of something. Except for me of course as I’ve already said. Do you any of you know what Main fears? It’s quite evident when you put it all together.

But before I get to that, I want to explain my reasoning. After all…I am a man of great thought. You see..Robert Main is as dangerous as they come in XWF. He’s beaten nearly everyone he’s ever faced. He’s been dominant. Hell on Warfare, he’s nigh undefeatable. But notice that I said XWF. Bobby Main isn’t one to venture too far from where he feels comfortable. He likes doing what he does on Wednesday nights. And there is nothing wrong with that. There isn’t. But don’t come talking to me about fearing a man…When that man fears actual competition. That’s right. Bobby Main fears real competition.

XWF is full of no skill, no talent wanna be's. So why wouldn’t he feel more comfortable. Now, I know what you’re all thinking. If Robert Main is so terrified of real competition, why did he challenge you? And that would be a very good question. Bob is simply trying to overcome his fear. If there is anything I can say about Bob, it’s that he’s a man. He’s surely man enough to try and overcome his fears. Of course it won’t work. He'll be decimated in the center of that ring. The only thing he'll have to show for facing his fears will be defeat. After all. I AM his superior in every way. I’m the man he wants to be. I am the fearless warrior on this world. And I’m the next Hart Champion.

That’s just how things are. I beat his friend. Drew Archyle was unconscious. The ref didn’t ring the bell and that will be corrected. I’ve already shown Apex, first hand, what I’m capable of. But what have any of them shown me? Nothing. They’ve shown me nothing more than false promises.

Robert Main will talk a big game. He'll act as if he’s the biggest dog in the yard. But is he? No. I am and I’ll prove it at Turning Point when I beat him for that belt he holds dear.

My “failures” have happened due to poor officiating. Our match, Bob, will give that ref multiple times to get it right. So if you’re were banking on that happening again, I’d have to say that you’re counting on the wrong thing.

Bob. I want you to shine that belt up….because I’m taking it at Turning Point.

[

Baltimore, Maryland
1:30 am

It was cold out. A harshly cold wind blew off of the bar. It was not more than fifteen degrees out. The sky was completely clear, though no stars could be seen..due to city likes and smog of course.

I stepped through the gate to the dock. I led a team of three. There was myself, Ivan, and a shorter man. Each wore black suits with long trench coats. It was quiet on the dock. It usually was this time of night. Afterall, there were no more workers getting containers off of ships. Speaking of the containers, they were everywhere. The place looked like a maze.

Id been waiting for this shipment of guns. They were a prototype weapon capable of shooting around corners. The perfect weapon for an assassin like me. Id made the deal with Japanese manufacturer. These would help make up the money lost from the hack. More importantly, it would gain the attention I truly wanted.

We made our way through the maze of containers to where I was expecting his container to be. It was orange, with a tag that read " Grandmas Peach Tea". It was also completely on the other side of the dock.

It took about thirty minutes for my team and I to get to the container. It was your standard sized container, even though it wouldn't be packed.

I walked slowly. I was wary. I froze. " Stop.", I whispered to the team.

Bang! Bang!

I didn't see where the shots came from, but did see a concrete wall, so I quickly ran for cover.

Id walked directly into a trap. But it was one that I’d expected. Everything was going as planned.

"Ivan?", I called out.

There was no answer. I knew why. I knew that Ivan was dead. Something told me. I didnt know what it was, but my gut told me that Ivan was dead of a gunshot to the chest.

"Fuck".

I quickly returned fire, not looking at where I was shooting for the moment. I couldn't really as a hail of gunfire rained down upon my location.

[Color]"Fuck. Chuck is dead too.".[/color]

I knew that I had to clear my mind. A cloudy mind made mistakes. If I made a mistake here, I would be killed as well. I had to rely on my training, slow my heart rate, and calm myself.

I breathed deeply as I kneeled there behind that concrete wall. I did so, the sound of the gunshots began to fade, but I knew they were still happening.

I stuck my head out, my gun followed. I squeezed the trigger.

"That's one down.".

I breathed deeply once more. I fired again as i came out of my cover. Another dead body. One less gun shooting at me.

Ive never been a stupid man. I knew that this was a lose situation. I was out manned. I knew that I couldn't win this fight. Things had not gone as planned.

I looked around, trying to find an escape route. I found one. I stuck my head out and squeezed the trigger. Another dead body fell to the ground.

I got up from my crouched position and ran to a container on my right, shooting a few shots as I did so.

The hail of gunsfire followed me. "How many bullets do they have?", I thought to myself.

I saw a small opening between two containers behind me. I knew id need to go there. I fired two shots and squeezed into the small opening.

"Where'd he go?", I heard a voice call out.

They were close. I noticed that this small space went back thousands of feet as this area of containers were lined up. I was shadowed. I would be safe as long as they didnt have night vision.

"He went this way!", I heard another voice call out.

I stopped as the foot steps went the wrong way. I sighed a sigh of relief. The men were going the wrong way. I counted twenty feet. I was out numbered atleast ten to one. I would have never made it out with his life. I still might not.

I made my way through that space very slowly, being careful not to make a sound. It took quite a while, nearly an hour in fact, for me to make my way through the containers.

My heart dropped when I saw the gate. That gate was blocked. Since nobody was able to find me, my enemies had blocked the gate.

"Nobody leaves.", I heard one man call.

I sighed to himself. The only exit was blocked and i was out of ammo. I couldn't fight the men. There were too many. My only option was to way and luckily, i was wearing black clothing that perfectly camouflaged me.

I waited hours, not moving and barely breathing. The sun began to peak over the horizon. I knew that the dock would soon spring to life.

"Lets get the shit and go. Erik Black is gone.", I heard one man shout.

"Boss aint gonna like tho.", I heard another add.

I waited for them to get far enough away, then slipped through the gate and down a few blocks to where my car was parked. My muscles ached. My body was sore. I needed rest, but I wouldn't get any. I still had to train for my match with Main. It wouldn’t be easy. Main could be dangerous if he wasn’t such a huge sack of shit.

I wanted answers. I had the name of the man who had the tape delivered. And I now knew that every move we made was being watched. My next move had be be carefully planned. I needed to get to Miami.

………

How did Michael die, Bob? Is there still a hole in your heart where your friendship once was? Loss is a powerful thing. The loss of my family is what led me to where I am today. Did the loss of your friend lead you here? More importantly, would he be proud of what you’ve become? Would he be proud and smile upon you for being almost completely worthless? I’m betting that he wouldn’t. You’d probably be an embarrassment. You would be to most fighters.

The best fighters are wandering warriors who go looking for challenges. They are those who sit in one place. You’re an embarrassment, Main. To me. To fighting….to Michael.

The only thing you aren’t an embarrassment to is being a champion. I can honestly say that you’ve been a great champion, Bob. You’re a fighting champion who is willing to take on all comes. Not many champions can say that they’ve done that. But not you. It’s very commendable, Bob. You have my respect for that. But that is where it ends. And Turning Point is where your championship run ends. It won’t end with a bang…or even a whimper. It will just…be no more…….

Scene fades

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.