Hellhound | Part I | Calm, Before

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Hellhound | Part I

Calm, Before

    Present Day
    A light snow falls on the streets of Toronto as I watch from the balcony of my fourteenth floor apartment. It's cold out here but not enough to bother me, I've been in worse conditions. Despite that my decision to take up residence in this city again baffles even me. This corner of civilization is filled with people I don't want to see, people that I don't want to know and the chances that I'll run in to one of those people are becoming ever more likely. I've been able to keep to myself for the last three months through call dodging and only going out at night but the news has broken; Mathias Sloan is back in North America and he's signed a contract. My family doesn't care to try and contact me but The Costigans…every piece of news in this industry finds it's way to their ears. They will find me.

    I don't have the slightest idea of how any of them will react when they hear (if they haven't already) but based on past experiences with them I doubt it will be received with jubilation. They like their graduates to go season themselves all over the world and when said rookies return it is Epic Wrestling LLC that finds them work. It's an agreement that has allowed the top graduates to travel the world. We do it on The Costigan's dime and in turn they get a percentage of our earnings when we sign. It sees that they get us the most lucrative contract possible because it is through them and because they get a cut. They will not be happy that their final gift to the world of professional wrestling decided to do things on his own terms. At the same time, they won't be surprised.

    I could use a drink. Perhaps it is the snow or perhaps it is the idea of becoming a legitimately contract competitor for the first time but it feels as if the city is calling to me. It is that notion that has my mouth feeling dry in the way that can only be satiated by something strong. I am a man of great discipline and not the kind that ever looks for a crutch, however, the desire to descend on the city and have a couple glasses of bourbon does not vomr from a bad place. It is not something I need but rather something I deserve. For in just a short period of time I will need to be completely devoted to becoming who I was born to be. There will be no time for luxuries like drinking or women. Once I get to Atlantic City I need to be completely focussed on the task at hand. I'll go out tonight, it will be my last hurrah.

    And it is something that I had planned on doing alone.

    After assembling the necessities; wallet, phone, keys, knife, I exit my apartment. As I turn to lock the front door a familiar voice calls out to me. "Hey there neighbour man! Where are you off to on such a night?" He says and a shiver creeps up my spine, a feeling that no opponent or stipulation could ever cause.

    I turn to see the man who lives across the hall, a slightly flamboyant and stylish character in his late twenties. He looks like something out of the American Apparel look book and sports a (what I can only assume to be for ironic purposes) pencil thin moustache. His name is Lyle Lacroix and I loathe talking to him. I mean I seriously don't like it.

    "I'm just heading out for a drink Lyle." I tell him curtly. Hopefully he will get the idea that I am in no mood to talk. Be that because I'm in a hurry or that I don't like him, whatever the reason he lands on I really do not care.

    "A little drinky poo huh? You've picked a great night for it!" Lyle says without any hint of sarcasm. His enthusiasm makes me uneasy, no one should ever be so excited to hear about the plans of others. Especially the plans of people that they do not know. His genuine interest almost comes across as fake. "Where were you thinking of going?"

    Without realizing it until it's too late I let out a very obnoxious and telling sigh. If I cared what this moron thought of me I'd be embarrassed but I really don't. I'm kind of a social land mine and it's the main reason that I keep to myself. Over the last year I've become very disassociated and moving from place to place without ever staying very long only furthered that problem. Well perhaps problem isn't the right word, that's what I classified it as at first but as of late it has suited me just fine.

    "I haven't decided yet. Now if you'll-" I say but I am immediately interrupted.

    "Oh my gravy do I have some suggestions for you then! There is this wonderful new place down on Dundas West, just past Ossington. It's a great little gimmick bar that has no bar rail and no drink menu." Lyle says with the utmost excitement. "What you do is you go up to the bartender (they call them cocktail artists) and you tell them your date of birth, your favourite colour and your most depraved sexual fantasy. From there they construct a drink for you based on that information. It's seriously fucking fantastic."

    I don't know how to take this. As I said, he is such an enthusiastic person that I almost think he's fucking with me. Is he fucking with me? "That sounds…inventive. What is this place called?" I ask.

    "It's called Ewe. Spelt like the female sheep but what it means is YOU because the drinks are based on your personality. It's simply fucking phenomenal, oh my gravy is it phe-nom-en…" He pauses for effect. "…al." He said all of that with a straight face.

    I'm not of the mind that you can tell about people just by looking at them but you can get an idea of what they may be like. My faded Levi's, equally as worn Doc Martins and tattered leather jacket should at least be able to indicate to Lyle that a bar such as the one he just describe could quite possibly be the bane of my existence. However, my attitude is more of a passive anger than direct so I won't verbally eviscerate him for his ignorance. I suppose he is only trying to be nice.

    "That sounds…unique." I say.

    There is a momentary silence until Lyle bursts out laughing. He slaps a hand down on my right shoulder and grips it hard, shaking me as he tries to compose himself. "I'm fucking kidding Mat, Jesus you get taken in so easily!" He says, still laughing manically. "That sounds….inventive. That sounds…unique." He says, doing his best impersonation of me. "It sounds fucking retarded is how it sounds Matty! Ha!"

    It's as if he is laughing in slow motion. Everything within me wants to grab him by the throat and put him through the door of his apartment. I briefly fantasize about this, slamming him into the door causing it to break apart in an explosion of splinters and dust. I see him falling backwards with a large shard of wood impaling him as he falls backwards onto (what I can only assume is) a tacky East Asian hall runner. I shake it off just as he finishes his hearty, enraging chuckle.

    "Oh gravy that was funny." Lyle says as he wipes away a single tear. "But seriously Matty, if you want to go somewhere good let me show you some spots."

    "That's alright Lyle, I wouldn't want to bother you." I say in the most deliberate tone I can muster.

    "It's not a bother at all. I know you're still readjusting to the city and it can be hard to find a decent joint to blow off some steam." He says. "Just let me grab my coat and quickly feed Elton."

    "Elton?" I ask immediately regretting the decision to do so.

    "He's my three legged kitty. I'm pretty sure he has low level Asperger's but I love him all the same. It'll only take a moment." He says before disappearing into his apartment. I see him wipe his feet on the hall runner (store bought East Asian-inspired, called it) and disappear as the door closes behind him.

    I contemplate running, but he knows where I live.

    Fuck.

Battleground | March 8th, 2ø14 | Atlantic City, New Jersey

Sirius Sloan vs. Annie Zello

    The debut.

    If done properly a competitor's debut can put them well on their way to success. If done poorly you run the risk of having a dark cloud hanging over you that is extremely difficult to shake. The first impression is key and I do not plan on making a bad one. FGA has signed me with good reason and I will show them what their investment has earned them. I am a man who was wrought in some of the harshest environments known to this industry and humanity itself. Now it is time to show North America exactly what that means.

    FGA finds itself in an interesting position right now. Fresh off the heels of their first iPPV FGA is a company on the rise. The audience in London was ecstatic to finally witness what FRONTIER has to offer and the company did not disappoint. That trend continues on the next episode of Battleground because the Hellhound is set to debut and what that means is that hell is coming with me. Find me someone who wouldn't like to see the competitive equivalent of eternal damnation.

    This is not good news for one Annie Zellor. Annie, you are in a bad, bad way but I don't want you to think that it is because of who you are as a competitor. Yes you are inexperienced. Yes you are for all intents and purposes still a student. Yes you are fresh faced and starry eyed. However, none of that is why you are completely fucked. You are fucked because FGA has placed you in the ring with a literal war machine. You could be anyone on this roster, from Jimmy Page to Chris Q., it would not matter. I am not a man between bells but an instrument of brutality and no one in this company is prepared for the nightmare that is Sirius Sloan.

    It somewhat pains me to have to tear a person like you to shreds Annie. You seem like a sweet young lady with an abundance of ambition and potential but those things mean very little to a man so lacking in mercy as me. I am here in FGA to be the absolute best. Period. I will not stop until that want has been satiated. You are still a student and while I've only been in this industry for just over a year I have been fighting for my entire life. I doubt you grasp the weight of what that means.

    The armed forces showed me what humans are capable of doing to each other. I've seen death, misery and horrors that would make your most potent bad dreams feel like a jaunt through Candy Land. That is not a boast, that is fact. And it is this fact that has numbed me to any notion of mercy when I am between those ropes. I am being paid to hurt people Annie, I am being paid to mangle. And seeing as how I am a man who likes to do a job to the utmost of his ability or not at all, you are (as previously stated) fucked.

    Do not feel bad though Annie because there is some fortune in your predicament. You are about to be gifted a lesson that you cannot learn at your Hard Knox academy. No, this is a lesson that only a man like me can teach you and only in a competitive setting. You are going to witness first hand what it is like to be unapologetically driven. You will see the intensity and the devotion that you will need to possess in order to become anything more than a footnote in history. It's not going to be pleasant, but the value of it will stay with you for the rest of your career. I am a man possessed and furthermore I am a man who has the tools to realize his goals. You will see what hell that combination can breed.

    From what I've seen of you Annie there is nothing to dislike about you. You are sweet, you are passionate and you were bred for this industry. But all of that means very little in the grand scheme of things. You have too many distractions and you possess a naivety that can only be dispelled once you have matured as a person and competitor. Your mind is not fully on the task at hand from what I can tell, your personal relationships and other concerns do you no favours. This painful lesson will help you on your way but it will not be pleasant. It will shake you to your absolute core. I will not be sorry about what I do to you because I need to make an impression. I need to set a standard for the type of violence that FGA can expect from the Hellhound.

    Perhaps it's a touch cliche, perhaps it's well worn territory but I call myself such a macabre name with good reason. You will find out why that is at Battleground. A man of lesser intellect and skill who uses a similar moniker might say that come Battleground they will finally be off of their proverbial leash. Not me.

   No chain could ever hold me.

    Enjoy your agony.