|
Welcome to NEWera Wrestling. We hope you enjoy your visit.
You're currently viewing our forum as a guest. This means you are limited to certain areas of the board and there are some features you can't use. If you join our community, you'll be able to access member-only sections, and use many member-only features such as customizing your profile, sending personal messages, and voting in polls. Registration is simple, fast, and completely free.
Join our community!
If you're already a member please log in to your account to access all of our features:
|
|
P.O.M.E; Product of My Environment vol. 1
|
|
Topic Started: Nov 23 2012, 12:34 AM (164 Views)
|
|
Deleted User
|
Nov 23 2012, 12:34 AM
Post #1
|
|
Deleted User
|
“What do you mean…different?”
“Different than how you normally act, Ap.”
Apollo Cain stormed into the office building of his longtime friend, long time agent, and longtime manager Ace Pressley. Ace was walking down the hallway to meet his old friend. The two have bonded since Apollo was a child; he’s actually the only person who calls him Ap. Ace Pressley was a major player in the streets throughout the 70’s, 80’s and 90’s, and he took a liking to Apollo. Naturally since a child, Apollo was a monster among men…but that attribute has a different stigma in the ghetto. If you’re supposed to be something, you better be it, because people are gonna try you.
“How do I normally act?”
“Like you’re a nigga from Compton!”
Apollo Cain stopped dead in his tracks. Apollo and Ace had been walking toward one another down the side hallway that connects to Ace’s private suite. Ace didn’t talk like that…period. He was a white man who lived amongst the minorities his entire life, and you never heard any story about racism, bigotry…or Ace even muttering the N word out of his mouth. Apollo Cain didn’t know how to react.
“Sit down.” Ace motioned toward a chair in the foyer; the entire building was adorned with furniture accommodating to a man the size of Apollo. He eyed Ace, and shook his head while slowly sitting down.
“Ap…you know I love you to death, truly. But I said that for a reason. Where’s your brother at right now?”
“Dead.”
“Your father?”
“Dead.”
“Your aunt Sheila, she had three boys, where are all of them at right now?”
“Two dead and one in prison…what’s your point Ace?”
“That’s not you. What the fuck do you guys ride around saying all the goddamn time, huh? You think it’s a coincidence, that all of them of are dead or in jail? Fuck NO! That’s the life for a you know what! I’m tired of this FOR you Apollo, I truly am. You’ve got a big opportunity here in NEW Era, man! They’ve got some true talent there, AND, they’re on big time cable stations. Friday night on FX, PJ, Shawn, Buck, Rip…they’ll be able to turn on the t.v. and watch YOU! Watch YOU shine! You wanna be a bad ass motherfucker, which is what you walk around every day as…or you wanna strive to be the hardest you know what out? The choice is yours, and I’m riding with you regardless…but damn!”
Ace walks closer to Apollo and extends his hand. Apollo smiles his wide mouth smile and grabs the much smaller Ace and pulls him in close as he stands up.
“You know me, man. I live for shit for like this. I really did do a lot of thinking while I was locked down. I know what I gotta do. You’re dealing with an introspective brother this time around. I’m about peace-“
“Save that, let’s go into the room and get our minds right. Someone is coming by they wanna talk to us.”
Apollo lags for a second…the conversation quickly transitioned from Ace Pressley pleading with Apollo to change his ways, to a pre made date with God knows who about who knows what. He scrunches his face up not understanding.
“How’d you know I was gonna say yes?”
“Same way I knew you’d say yes back in the day Ap! It is what it is.”
Apollo Cain stands up and follows Jimmie to the back room…the Bob Marley Suite, Chong’s Cabernet, Jerry Garcia’s Garage, Snoop Dogg’s Dogghouse, whatever you wanna call it. Many a deep thought and business dealing have been done in this suite, locked off from the public…and a safe haven for smokers.
Where I was raised, you were either a bad motherfucker or a bitch, and if you think I’m the latter all you have to do is come let me know. I was recently released from prison…for the third fucking time. But this time it was a 5 year stretch in ADX Florence. If you never heard of it, you’re a better person because of that. I didn’t commit the crime this time, but sometimes you don’t lay it down for the crime you’re accused of, you lay it down for your body of work. I had a lot of time to soul search while I was there. I was let out of my cell only 9 hours a week, and shit like that takes a toll on you mentally, unless you can find that smooth center, your own personal heaven inside the mind.
I’m the product of the ghetto that no one wants to talk about. With drugs, murder and mayhem a part of my every single day, how the fuck do you think I’m gonna act? I wasn’t supposed to succeed, I was labeled a drug dealer whether I slang or not. I was shoved into the corroded side of town, given the old books, and bottled up in apartments with the overpopulation they barely allow in jail. I’ve got a chip on my shoulder the size of Mt. Rushmore, and every day I wake up thinking of a way to make a motherfucker pay. I’m not the best wrestler in the world, I’m not the most skilled, or most talented…but I know the weight of what I’ve endured will break your will. I know how to take the absolute best that you can give, and twist it into motivation, motivation for me to do more damage. That’s all I care about…making sure my opponent has a bad day. Some poor soul will remember my name every week, they will rue the day the match makers put their name next to mine.
“What the FUCK!!”
Apollo Cain smashes through a little tv tray set up next to him. An 80” screen plays NFL Redzone as Alphonso Dennard runs back an Andrew Luck interception for a touchdown.
“What are you so mad about; you still got one of the best backs in football playing on Monday night? You’re down like 9 points.”
4 guys sit in Chong’s Cabaret watching NFL Redzone. A thick cloud hovers in the room and the aroma is a sweet burnt scent. Ace had invited two other people to his office, and they were good friends of Apollo also. Rip, a high profile drug dealer from Compton passes a blunt to Apollo Cain, who takes it as he shakes his head and taps it into the ashtray. The fourth man was a guy called Buck, he was a close associate of Ace, really his protection, but through the years it became much more of a friendship.
“Buck, he’s gotta GET those 9 points. The Bears play the Niners man, and they don’t have Cutler, so obviously they’re gonna stack the box.”
“Nah, you can’t sleep on Campbell, he’s got a cannon just like Cutler does, they ain’t missing much. Shit, you know…he used to play for your bum ass squad.” Rip laughed.
“You got jokes…don’t worry, we’re improving chump.”
“You’ve been saying that since ’02, now pass the blunt.” Buck put his arm out and waved his hand beckoning the blunt on.
Football season, they’re all in a fantasy league together, and are huge football fans to boot…football, friends and fantasy football, the holy trinity of men everywhere. They smoke weed and kick the bobo, that’s what homies do. When it’s time for business, it’s suited, booted, dressed to the nines and packing 45’s…
“So for real Cain, this is what you’re gonna do? You sure you wanna do this wrestling shit full time? Don’t be bullshittin’ like the last couple of times, you got me some tickets to come see you ALL THE WAY in Chicago…”
“Yup, damn right!”
“Member that? You told me you was about to handle your business, you wanted the homies to come check you, and a month later you flaking out and shit, talking about your heart wasn’t in it, you missed the streets…cmon now.”
Apollo has been home for 6 months, but he was in a halfway house in Oakland since his release. This is the first real chance he’s gotten to chill with his people since he’s been home, and jail makes you a little different…a little jumpy. Apollo has known these guys since the way back, but these last five years were awfully lonely in Colorado. His books were always proper, he always had food for his belly, and money to make calls…but all he ever saw was concrete and criminals. It was the real concrete jungle, and Apollo Cain was a lion.
“You think I was bullshittin’ before huh…you think all that shit was fun and games? Well, let me tell you something. That was a different me, I did 4 long hard years in ADX Florence…one of the hardest penitentiaries on the motherfuckin’ planet. I was born at St. Francis and raised in Compton. Shit wasn’t easy for the ANIMALS in Compton, fuck the people. I’ve realized that I’ve taken the hard road and I’ve got the scars and stripes to prove it…and I’m not gonna sit here and make no excuses for how shit happened, and why shit happened, but I CAN talk about this day moving forward.”
Apollo Cain reaches for a Corona that sat beside him; he takes a gulp and quenches his thirst.
“You thought I was a fucking mad man before…well you ain’t seen nothing yet! I never had a reason to succeed; I never had the proper drive. I did what I want, when I wanted, but I had no goal in mind. I knew win lose or draw, I could go back to the streets. I knew I could make a phone call, and have 3 kilos of dope sitting in front of me, with some bad bitches to bag it up. I had the silver spoon in my mouth when it came to money…and I still got it, but now I’ve got something to shoot for.”
“And what’s that Ap, enlighten me?”
“Fear!” Apollo Cain flares his nose when he speaks. His chestnut brown eyes turn a coal black and he looks to each man in the room in the eyes before speaking.
“I want to strike fear in the hearts of the wrestlers of NEW Era. I want them to look at the promoters, and bookers with disgust in their eyes. I want the Heavyweight Champion to know it’s a full day’s work when he has to face me. I want my opponent to fear for his life, the safety of his family, his children…I want him to feel unsafe in his own skin when he has to go against me.”
“You crazy, yo!”
“Buck, you don’t know the fucking half!”
Apollo Cain stands up and walks over to a one sided window…the people can’t see in but you can see the hustle and bustle of the street.
“I’ve been the product of police brutality…I’ve been the product of racism…I’ve been the product of stereotyping, and I’ve been a part of the forgotten. And that’s what hurt the most. These bastards walking the street everyday couldn’t begin to imagine the things I’ve seen inside prison. How you suppose to rehabilitate a man, when you place him in tight quarters with some assholes who might even be sicker than him. I was in there with some psychotic motherfuckers! This one guy killed 6, 7, 8 people with his bare hands, and then stripped them of their flesh…these was the type of cats I was left with. You can label me whatever the hell you want, and you can feel that’s what I deserved for trying to feed my family, or protect what’s mine. But with that comes the consequences. NOW the world must deal with what they created.”
Ace had an evil grin spreading from ear to ear…he loved it. His protégé, his diamond in the rough…his own personal Frankenstein was finally finished. He knew the destruction he would cause in NEW Era, he knew Apollo had finally developed the attitude that was needed to make it in big time professional wrestling. Ace stood up and walked over to the bar of the suite where a lovely blonde was tending it, he spoke softly and she turned to grab the requested liquor and make some drinks. Ace leaned his back against the bar, elbows propped on both sides. He watched as the three lifelong friends talked to each other…Ace knew that if they could invoke Apollo’s passion, it wouldn’t be hard to unleash his pain on the rest of the world. A reporter from Pro Wrestling Weekly was going to be coming shortly to interview Apollo; it was about time to tell him about Greg Bartlett; the crazy veteran looking to rid the world of evil. Ace chuckled and could only imagine the reaction of Apollo.
|
|
|
| |
| 1 user reading this topic (1 Guest and 0 Anonymous)
|
|