Chronicles of Erik Black part four:

Erik walked down that dusty road for what seemed like hours. Cars went by but none stopped, even when the boy held his thumb out. It made Erik's self worth go even further down. He didn’t know if he actually wanted the help, but he did want someone to atleast offer. Part of him wanted to turn back and go back to the Piontek's. He paused for a moment, thinking about turning back. And then the thoughts came back. He would be leaving soon anyway. He would be forced to move to another home. He would be forced to attend another school...Meet other new people. It was not something Erik wanted to do. It was not something he could do.

He felt the temperature die down as a shadow crossed over him. He looked to the sky. A storm was coming in. He looked around, there was nowhere to go. There was no shelter. He was just a boy out here with no place to take shelter from the storm that was quickly approaching. He broke into a run just as the thunder started. He was desperate. He'd brought no other clothes. His only possessions were what he wore.

He noticed a field with a tree line about five hundred yards away. He headed there. ONce he got to the tree line, the rain had started to fall in sheets. He sat under an oak tree. He still go wet, but the tree covered him for the most part. As he sat there, he wondered if he should go back to Piontek's. Maybe moving from foster home to foster home would be better than having no home at all. It was an option and part of him wanted to take that option. The other part did not. The other part thought htat he could tough it out. That he could find somewhere and live alone...That he could make a name for himself.

As he sat under that tree, with his mind racing, Erik closed his eyes. He began to think about what his next move would be. His stomach grumbled with hunger. He needed food. He'd need other clothes. He couldn’t survive with only what he wore after all. His mind went over everything he needed and how he could get it. He didn’t like stealing, but he didnt have any money to his name. He had nothing. He'd have to steal. He knew it......... His mind was made up. He'd throw his morals to the side to do what was needed.

………

An old friend

Drache. It had been Drach all along. Erik couldn’t believe it. Drach was once an FBI agent who was always hot on the tail of Zero Tolerance. He couldn’t be bought like the others before him. Erik had tried to bribe the man. He'd tried to get Drache on the pay roll, but Drache refused each time. And each time he would try harder to take Zero Tolerance down for their crimes. He always failed due to ERik having agents on the Zero Tolerance pay roll.

Eventually things came to a head and Drache was framed for the murder of a family. In reality, ERik and Jaymz had murdered the family. They'd planted DNA evidence at the crime scene that put Drache at the house. It was a devestating murder. The funerals were closed casket and the neighborhood of Latrobe Pennsylvania was never the same.

Drache had been sent to prison where Erik put a bounty on the man's head. ONe million dollars to the man who would kill Drache. Many tried, but DRache was a very dangerous and capable man. He was not one to be killed easily. He was eventually jumped and presumed dead. That was years ago and Zero Tolerance had continued doing what they'd always done.... Untill a few weeks ago.

Erik laid in his bed, looking up at the white ceiling. The sun was just beginning to peak through the large windows of his bedroom. He wore only black boxer shorts. Beside him was his beautiful wife Penelope. He looked looked like he hadnt slept at all. And the reality was that he hadnt. It had been a few days since New Orleans. He'd found out that Drache was behind the hack. He'd fought in a match at Savage. At no point during that time had the man slept. He couldn’t. His mind was clouded. He was sure DRache had been killed in prison. He'd paid the man who'd killed him the one million dollar bounty. There was even a funeral. Drache was gone. He was dead and buried. But then why was he in New Orleans? Erik didn’t know. There were so many questions, but there were no answers to those questions.

He rose quickly but carefully as to not wake his wife. He stretched and made his way down the long hallway, down the stairs to the kitchen. And then finally to his training room in the basement. If there was any way to clear his mind, it would be training. It had always worked for him.

Still dressed in his boxers, Erik sat down in the center of the large, octagon shaped mat. He closed his eyes. He tried to remember the funeral. He'd seen the body. He has seen Drache's body. He'd even seen the stab wounds to the man's chest. Thoughts rushed through his mind. Was it really Drache? Of course it was. It had to be. Erik had seen him with his own eyes.

Erik took a deep breath. There was only two things that this could have been. First would be that the man in the casket that Erik had seen was not Drache. It was someone made to look exactly like Drache. The second option was that it was Drache, but he'd been given chemicals to make his heart slow to a near crawl. This would make it seem like Drache was actually dead. Neither option actually mattered and Erik knew it. Drache was alive and he'd taken money. Did he take Jason Cash and family as well? Erik knew the answer was yes. He just didnt know where Jason had been taken.

Erik opened his eyes...... He knew what he had to do. He had to kill the man…..again.

……………….

Was that it? Is that seriously all you have? You say I’m star gazing? Are you really this dumb or do you just act like it on TV?

Do you honestly think this is my first rodeo? I’m wondering if you’re actually this dumb. In case you were waiting for me to tell you…It isn’t. I’ve shut down wrestling fed after wrestling fed. Would you like to know how and why? I’ve spoken on this before but I don’t mind doing it again.

I guess we should start with the why. Now, I need you to stop eating paint chips and sniffing glue because I won’t be saying this again. Chaos, I’ve gone fed to fed, shutting them down because I tire of seeing men like you claim greatness. You can barely feed yourself but you think yourselves some great fighter. The reality is than none are capable of doing much. So I go to a fed. I run rampant through the roster. The place folds when the fighters realize that they’re nothing more than a bunch of morons with chips on their shoulders.

Now onto the how. I do it by going through everyone like a hot knife through butter. I tell the fighters that they aren’t real fighters and should just quit to save themselves some pain and embarrassment. They refuse. And then I prove it. Just like I’ll be doing with you, Chris.

And they’re all the same. In every fed I’ve ever been to, there is a guy there with his ass too far over his shoulders. I tell him that he’s basically the tallest midget and he comes at me talking about the so called greats he’s defeated in the ring. This comes after I’ve told him that he’s beaten no talent hacks, mind you.

Now let me ask you a question. I understand that it may confuse the hell out of you, but I want you to try to answer it as honestly as you can. Ready?

Who does that remind you of? If you guessed yourself. Then we have a winner! You just did that. I don’t give a damn who you’ve beaten. I don’t give a damn how good you think they are or were. They weren’t. They were nothing more than idiots who had their asses too far over their heads. They were guys who did things like..forgetting to breathe. You’ve beaten no one I would consider skilled in the art of humiliating an opponent through physical domination. Those are simply facts, Chris. Hard to grasp, right?

Do you understand why I am the way I am? Why I say the things I do? To say I’m cocky only scatches the surface. I’m very cocky. But I back it up. Did I get the skills bare knuckle fighting in Compton? No, Chaos. I started training with the Gracie’s in Brazil when I was about thirteen. I trained with them until I was seventeen. Rickson Gracie never beat me. Royce Gracie never stood a chance. We were never the same, Chaos. I’m dangerous. You? You’re only dangerous when it comes to being an ass hat. So don’t start with the whole “I was just like you.” Bullshit. You’ve never been as skilled in that ring as I am. You’ve never been as skilled as me outside of that ring either. You’re just a guy who is in over his head.

I know you think k you’ve accomplished a lot. And you’re right to think that. You’re a top fifty all time in XWF. That is no simple feat. Not for one of your skill level anyway. You’ve beaten the best this company has ever had to offer. The problem is that this company doesn’t have much to offer. I don’t want to get into a war of the I know you are but what am I's but it seems like that is where you want this to go. Those men WERE and ARE talentless hacks. Maybe not to you, but that is due to the fact that you lack the skills I possess. You’ve probably never watched the light leave a man's eyes as you simply apply pressure to the throat with your thumb….simply because he decided he was a fighter. I have…in..and out of the ring.

Those men you’ve beaten are nothing to me. I don’t say that because I’m cocky. No. I say that because it’s true. Compared to me…those men are nothing. Compared to me they ARE talentless. They have no business fighting for a living. Compared to you? Well…they were tough competition for you. That is because you, yourself, are a talentless hack. I’m sorry if that hurts, Chris. I really am, but I am not in the business of coddling anyone. I’m not one to stroke an ego. No. I tell the truth. You have no talent and you don’t have the talent to beat me.

Chaos, you speak as if we’ve never been in the ring. You had your chance to beat some respect into me at War Games. Instead, you did everything you could to get out of the ring with me. Sure you busted my head open. You got a few decent hits in, but you quickly got out. I proceeded to take out half of your team…On my own. While you watched from the sidelines. How quickly you forget, Chris.

You should consider yourself collateral damage. You were never meant to fall this way. You were never meant to be placed in front of me in such a manner. But you were and now I have to destroy you…humimiate you…Show you that you’re nothing. You will fall…this company will fall with you. Maybe not at Savage, but soon. You see.. When the best of the best start going down like flies, people start talking. You? You’re midcard at best. You’re opening act at worst. You’re nomain event talent here in XWF. Beating you will not be much of a step in the direction I’m going, but it will be another name on my list.

Im just getting started, Chris. I’m just now showing you what actual skill is. I’m showing all of you that calm minds win the day. Against Mezian? That is what happened. I let him have his bloodlust…and I took advantage of the opening it created. I told him that it would happen. It did.

I do what I say I’m going to do. At Savage, I’m going to show you where you belong. I’m going to show you what actual fighting skill is. It’s obvious that you don’t know. You think k the men you mentioned were dangerous in that ring. The reality is that they resembled trying to fuck.

It will be hard for your mind to grasp as you’re beaten. You won’t understand what is happening until you watch the replay. Then you will understand exactly how far you would need to go just to still not be as good as I am.

Prepare yourself.

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.