To better understand the friendship and bond between bRiaN sTorM and Griffin "The Mechanic" MacAlister, through things they experienced when within each other's company and why Griffin's betrayal on the last edition of Wednesday Night Warfare, effected bRiaN so tremendously... we turn back to the past, once more. Back to a time, before the briefly shared moment of incarceration, that eventually led to Griffin's inevitable transformation and conditioning into becoming a living weapon. When Griffin and bRiaN were merely teenagers, attending high school and the future was very much, unwritten.




Ah, Steinmetz... located on 3030 N. Mobile Ave, Chicago, IL 60634. This public high school; while brandishing a title of being a place designed purposefully for college prep in the pathetic attempt to seem far more prestigious than what the place actually was in reality, was where a great majority of the teenage population of Chicago found themselves attending, when they couldn't afford to pay for school and where Griffin MacAlister and bRiaN sTorM, both simultaneously went. With its metal detectors, backpack scanners, corrupt security guards, underpaid, lackluster teaching staff and gang fights that would sometimes spill off past school grounds and carry on for multiple blocks down the street, involving thirty plus students, this was not a place for higher learning.


Nonetheless, bRiaN and Griffin were required by law to go to high school and thus forced to attend this shithole, which on most days translated into simply making a mandatory appearance before they ditched school for the remainder of the day. Precisely what they did on this day in question, when they disappeared around noon, in order to get high and wander the streets, a seemingly far better option opposed to sitting in class. The duo ducked out at noon and took a walk, cutting down a nearby alleyway as Griffin produced a blunt and proceeded to spark it up. Then took a rather generous sized hit before he passed it over to bRiaN. Almost instantaneously, bRiaN followed suit afterwards and handed it back to Griffin. These actions were then repeated, back and forth as they strolled along, casually talking.


"Dude are you going to that thing in the forest tonight?"


"Can't."


"Why not?"


"I'm grounded."


"What the fuck? Grounded? Are you for real, right now?"


"Yeah, haven't you ever been grounded... wait, nevermind... I forgot your dad takes a far more hands on approach, when it comes to parenting."


"Hah! Yeah. All I gotta do is be faster than him and make it upstairs, never fails to thwart an ass kickin' and then I just bide my time till morning. By that time the booze would have killed all his memory of the previous afternoon and night. So why are you grounded?"


"My mom found my bowl."


"Damn. That sux."


"Oh, it doesn't end there, she came at me furious and enraged, accusing me of having an ass dildo."


"A what?"


"An ass dildo."


"So what did you do?"


"Packed the bowl and then hit it in front of her. Now I'm grounded for doing drugs and having a device for using them."


"Ah. The ol' catch 22, eh'? Damned if you do, damned if you don't."


"Exactly."


"Well shit man, can't you like sneak out or something."


"Nah. Doubt it. I wish though."


Griffin said nothing more and merely nodded as they journeyed onward, down another alley.


Hours later.


bRiaN sTorM sat inside his attic bedroom, located at the front portion of his parents' abode. Now it is important to understand that there was a certain signal that was well known within bRiaN's circle of cronies. A series of whistles, given twice, each pattern in a set of two tones and repeated one set, right after the other. Once you heard it, you would respond in kind but only in a single, corresponding set of two notes. As bRiaN was seated on an easy chair, he heard this specific sequence of whistles and immediately hurried to his bedroom window, where he promptly replied with the designated chosen whistles. That's when Griffin emerged from somewhere within the overgrowth of darkened shrubbery and trees, inside the limits of bRiaN's sizable, front yard. (Set back on the property, bRiaN's house had a front yard the size of what most homes had in the back, while the area situated behind the structure was adjacent to a small space allotted for trash cans and that's it. After that existed only the alley.)


Looking up at bRiaN, Griffin motioned towards the back of the house, indicating that bRiaN should traverse to that portion of the attic and he quickly complied. When he reached the destination, he swung open the door and stared down at Griffin. One might think, this would be bRiaN's solution to the situation, a door in the attic that allowed him access to the alley and inevitable freedom but this is where it gets tricky folks. For you see, whoever designed the dwelling must have been lazy or simple in the head because while there was a door that led outside, there wasn't a way down.


That's right. It was just a door, that you could open and a straight drop down. No stairs. However, Griffin came up with an answer to this problem, by scouring the alleyway and collecting up several discarded mattresses. Mattresses that he then piled up in two stacks of three, alongside each other. When bRiaN observed what his best friend had done, he couldn't help but laugh as Griffin gestured for him to drop down from the door that normally led to nowhere. Nowhere except the hospital, what with the lack of fucking stairs! Taking into consideration the drop, potential injury and Griffin's preventative measure for the fall, bRiaN sighed and then, our future "hometown hero" took the plunge, landing precisely on top of the mattresses. Climbing off of them, bRiaN regarded Griffin with a grin as his friend broke out into laughter.


"Dude, I gotta be honest with ya, I was only like 86% sure that was going to work."


"Hey, that's still a pretty high percentage and look, it worked. I'm free! Where'd you get all the mattresses from though?"


"The trash. Your neighborhood has a surprisingly substantial sum of folks throwin' away their beds."


"Touché"


"And only one of them reeked of urine. Made sure to put that one on the bottom."


"I appreciate that kindness. Ready to hit up the forest."


"Most definitely but first, smoke this shit."


With a smirk, Griffin handed bRiaN a blunt and he instantly ignited it. From there he took a pull and the two friends, started traveling down the alley. Forward into one of their many, many shared misadventures, that occurred during their youth.

---

"Alright folks, well my next fight on Warfare is scheduled against Atara Themis and we're taking part in a 'Tables match' which basically means to win, you have to put your opponent through a table. Simple logic but still a match that wrestlers have participated within, a countless number of times, throughout the years."


"Now, I'm not an avid, continuous follower of all of Atara's antics, inside the squared circle; however, I am aware of some of the portions regarding her history with the company. She's a former X-Treme and Internet champion, heavily pushed and considered to be a breakout sensation, a status that literally seemed to happen overnight and Shawn Warstein's main squeeze. On top of that, she's also apparently the reincarnation of the Greek goddess of love, Aphrodite or at least that's the rumor floating about. I don't know if it's true or not but I'm surely not going to call bullshit on it. Considerin' my half brother is a inter-dimensional, demi-god and I'm a living weapon."


"Seriously, I am not in a place to call shenanigans on anybody, I'm simply stating that I don't personally have rock solid proof, one way or another. It isn't like me and this broad talk regularly and trade secrets or even exchange pleasantries and take part in passing, meaningless chit-chat, while smokin' a cigarette in front of the main XWF building. I honestly don't think I've uttered a single word to this woman. We are virtual strangers and I believe this will be our first time sharing a ring together."


"I don't really have anything negative or positive to say about her, beyond the fact that she can apparently hold her own in a fight and I appreciate that aspect. I prefer taking part in matches where my adversary can actually throw down, so I'm lookin' forward to this upcoming bout, for sure. And since it's established already that Atara can handle herself in a brawl, that means I don't have to hold back. Not that I would do that but c'mon, she's very small and kinda fragile seeming in her appearance, if I didn't have the knowledge that she went toe to toe with giant behemoths in the ring and won, I'd feel like an asshole for stomping her skull in. It wouldn't be fun for me."


"But now I don't have to worry about the crushing guilt, when she has to have her jaw wired shut and needs to drink her meals through a straw. Because I know, I'm facing a lady that can really wrestle, despite her appearance screaming the complete and total opposite. The proof is in her statistics and the fact that she's still alive and that's good enough for me. If she can battle the roided up, muscle bound, freak of nature, Socio and survive, that's all the evidence I need."


"Come Wednesday Night Warfare, I will march to that ring and I will throw a boot party for Atara, worthy of a woman of her abundant, strength and capacity for combat and I'll give it my all, without even the slightest bit of remorse or urge to show mercy. Out of respect for her, I won't even stop for a second, when she's dipping in and out of unconsciousness and swayin' like a drunken sailor on a boat at sea, during a severe storm. And I implore Atara to do the same for me. You give this battle your all, girlie and do your level best to put me down cause I'll keep coming at ya if you don't and you'll fucking regret it."