Drugs...

I took a deep breath steadying myself. The sudden report of the magnum almost made me drop the blasted thing, and for a brief moment I wondered what I was doing here, and how it had gotten this far. But only for a brief moment, composing myself as best I could, I fired the gun two more times.

Dave flew back into the couch in his seedy apartment like a thing possessed. His arms and legs flailed about almost comically. I remember thinking how strange it looked to see him fly through the air like that, as if the three holes had suddenly appeared in his mid-section, and his blood was some sort of propulsion throwing him back. Nervously I looked around, imagining a cop was going to jump from the kitchen (the only other room in poor Dave's apartment), and haul me away right there. It didn't take long for the irrational part of my brain to remind me that the cops wouldn't be coming. Not anytime soon at least, not in this neighborhood. It's not that there weren't cops around. It's just that no one around here ever called them. Everyone in this neighborhood had something to hide.

In a single leap I covered the four-foot distance between where I was standing and Dave's cooling body. Ignoring his look of lifeless protest, I began to search his pockets. In ten seconds I had gone through his jackets and his pants, and found nothing. In eleven seconds I began to panic. Maybe it was just a mistake? Of course it was! What am I doing? Run! What have I done? Killer! The rational part of my brain was acting up again, but of course, that didn't last long. His Shoes!

“Ha!” I screamed into poor Dave's vacant refusal, “See! Why did you have to lie Dave?” Spittle was flying from my mouth, I remember thinking how funny it was to be able to spit in his eye, and not even see a reaction. Not a blink, or even a twitch. If some punk tried to spit in my eye while I was dead, I'd waste him. I chuckled at that, at least I think I did. I really only remember one reoccurring thought. That surely must have taken away any personal amusement of mine. What was I doing there?

Covering my eyes from a blinding light, and diving to the floor hoping to avoid whatever had been fired at me. It must be a cop. He got your picture, and now he's shooting at you with a silencer. My irrational side seemed to scream at me. We've to get out of here! My mind tried to grasp at any plan of escape, but I knew there was only one way out. If they were coming in from the ceiling, I would have to shoot my way out. I released the three remaining bullets in rapid succession at the ceiling. The light emitted from the muzzle of my gun showed me no cop in harness hanging from the ceiling, as I had expected. No cop, but three bullet holes, and a blackened light bulb. Bulb burnt out. The rational part of my mind, Damn. Well at least it was trying.

Soon the rational part of me realized I'd just been rolling on Dave's kitchen floor, and I quickly vomited. I was covered in five month old trash, rotting bits of half eaten fast food, and god only knows what else. We'd done a lot of crazy things in that kitchen.

I was just about to start stripping Dave when the irrational part of my brain reminded me of my mission. Because of this I didn't bother taking a close look at poor Dave's jacket. Later, I wasn't anywhere near sober enough to think about it. I Turned about and went straight for the kitchen again, reflex demanded I reach for the light switch. I couldn't help but chuckle. I made my way to the stove.

The gas line, which in most normal households should be connected to the oven, was connected a Bunsen burner. I opened a small black case on the dust-covered oven, and withdrew a tool used for lighting blowtorches. Slowly turning on the gas I sparked the flint and a small flame appeared, illuminating the room just enough to make the shadows surrounding me jump and sway, in an eerie pattern. Suddenly I wanted to get this over with quickly, I was suddenly reminded of what I'd promised myself, my family. That I would stop this drug, that I wouldn't do it any more.

I had told them that four days ago, or maybe it was five. Who knew, but I decided then in front of most of my friends and family, that I would never do this drug again. It wasn't until just tonight that the irrational part of my being convinced me that I could never kick this drug unless I experienced it one last time. To laugh in it's face and say Ha! I am your master!

Before I quite realized what I was doing, I had emptied the snow-white contents of the small bag onto a spoon, and I was hovering the spoon over the small orange blue flame, mesmerized by the spectacle of the powder turning into a bubbling liquid.

I let my head fall back closed my eyes, and spread my arms out. That's something I'd always done after I injected this horrible drug into my veins. I picked it up from all the movies I'd seen. You know the ones I'm talking about, where the hero gets some unimaginable power that absorbs his whole being, and he lays his head back and spreads his arms welcoming it in.

After what must have been a minute or two I opened my eyes, and started laughing hysterically. I saw the three holes I'd made in the ceiling earlier when the horrible light-bulb dragon had attacked me. This only caused my hysterics to increase.

I looked down at poor Dave's dead body and remember thinking, “Someone killed Dave!” Then the memories came back to me. Not in a rush of recollection, but in a small trickle. I knew whatever had happened had been serious, but I just couldn't grasp what. One thing I knew, I had to get out of there. Whether the rational or irrational part of my brain though this up I didn't know. Once I'd given myself to the drug it didn't matter anyways.

I also remembered I didn't have a jacket or any pants. (Strange, but I never thought once that me killing Dave was a bad thing. It was just a means to an end. After all, he was trying to keep me from quitting.) With the blizzard raging for the past few days I couldn't very well go outside like this, my earlier plan flashed in my mind, and I started removing Dave's pants and jacket.

Once I hit the chill air and blowing snow of the streets, I felt more reassured though I wasn't sure why. Probably cause there wasn't fifteen cops outside waiting for me. I started walking slowly down the street. With the howling wind, freezing snow, and this terrible drug coursing through my veins, I wasn't really paying attention to where I was going.

The wind chilled me more than I thought it would, and seemed to be blowing through the back of the jacket right onto my bare skin. Usually the drug was able to block out such petty things, as the cold. Strange that this time it didn't, it just made my high that much more interesting so I didn't give it a second thought.

“Well you'll never catch me unaware,” I said menacingly to the building looming nearest me. “I know what your up to.” I spun a brief circle, “I know what your all up too.” It's not that I was really paranoid of the buildings, its just that seemed like the right thing to do. I was stoned out of my mind, what do you want?

“Pardon me?” The voice chilled my blood more than any freezing blizzard ever could, and slowly realization set in. There was a neon-sign above my head flickering dimly in the blizzard; it had the words “Coffee” printed on it in alternating blue and green colors. There was a door leading into the establishment and standing in that door was a man. There was the man I feared more than any other.

I couldn't quite gauge his size, he was so bundled in winter cloths, but it didn't matter. I could see the black 9MM strapped to his belt (along with various other goodies used to subdue people like me), and the gold shield pinned to the breast of his jacket.

Again a trickle of memory leaked its way into my drug soaked brain. Four blocks from Dave's place was an old run down coffee house. It was open twenty-four hours, and was a pretty nice place to go late at night, but one never went there at 3:30 in the morning.

It was at 3:30 that the late night cops got their coffee break, and in this neighborhood there was only one place to get coffee. I didn't need to look at my watch to see what time it was. (Not that I had my watch to look at anyway, it had been pawned a few weeks earlier, Dave's idea.)

“Uh,” my brain was trying to catch up to the events transpiring around me. I tried to look as sober as I possibly could “just talking to myself.” In a defensive reaction I put my hands in Dave's jacket pockets. I don't know why I always do this, but stoned or sober it's always the same reaction when a cop starts talking to me.

Generally, the police react the same every time as well, purely defensive. “Could you please take your hands out of your pockets, sir?” His voice was emotionless, but I know he meant business. Beat cops around Dave's neighborhood aren't pushovers.

“Yes, but, don't those gloves keep your hands warm?” The police dispatcher's voice suddenly blared wildly into the night air, causing me to jump. The officer calmly lifted his hand to his right shoulder, and turned down the volume, his eyes never leaving me.

“Cabin fever, sir.” I said without really thinking about what I was saying. “been inside for two days. Needed to get out and stretch my legs.” Made perfect sense to me. This cop should be satisfied with that answer, I thought to myself, and let me go on my way.

I reached into my back pocket. My gloved hand lightly rubbed up against the butt of the gun that I had, not surprisingly, forgotten was there. For a frantic moment I imagined pulling out the magnum, wasting the cop and running. Then I realized the one mistake in my plan that would prove fatal. My gun was empty I had used the last of the bullets to kill the light bulb.

“Weight, One hundred and eighty five. Looks more like he's 140. Height, Six foot. Age, Thirty two. Hair, blond. Eyes, brown.” He looked me over to make sure everything was correct. I felt much more intimidated that he was able to get my weight exactly, even with Dave's large winter coat on.

My face felt like it was dripping sweat, but it seemed there was a light at the end of this tunnel. A stoned murderer being stopped by a cop next to a coffee shop talking to building was actually going to get away. I had to fight back the shit-eating grin I knew was forming on my lips.

I didn't hesitate turning my back on both of them, and continued walking down the street. Not five seconds passed before I heard a rustle behind me. The sound of two coffee cups being dropped, two weapons being drawn. A new voice called out.

Before I could think to much about it the cops were upon me, roughly taking my down to the ground. I remember being extremely agitated at this. I'd been spending to much time on dirty grounds lately. Before I could voice my anger, one of the cops spoke to me. I think it was the first one I'd talked to, but I was in such a state of disbelief I couldn't really tell.

I didn't say anything, just kept my head on the ground. I'm sure my ear was becoming frost bit, but I didn't care. The cops searched me, quickly found the gun, and the small bit of powder I had been saving for later. You know, in case the quitting got too hard.

I didn't bother saying anything. There was no point. I'd been caught. The drug was quickly wearing off, as if saying “Sorry officer, I don't know this guy.” It wouldn't take the cops long to figure out what had happened. Dave's body would be found in six more hours when his girlfriend went to visit him. By the time the police got her report they'd already have me in lock-up. Just another murdering junkie, which, by some sick twist of fate had been handed to them from off the street.

I spent four years in prison. Man I hated that hellhole. I was glad to see the day where I was a free man again. It was after that that I decided to turn my life around. My mom kept in touch with me the whole time I was in there. So this was the first place I was going. My fiancée was there waiting on me when I got out. Man, talk about the feelings that I got of just holding her in my arms. It was great! We got in the car and headed towards my mother's house.

We arrived about three hours later. When I stepped out of the car I could spell the wonderful spell of a home cooked meal. My mouth started to water. I walked straight in without knocking and it scared the piss out of my mother. She had been standing over the stove finishing up the final touches on the dressing. She jumped but when she realized that it was her son, just started tearing up. So did I and so did the rest of the family when they noticed I was there. It was great seeing my mom, dad, and sis without having to have some God Damn guard standing over me, watching every fucking move that I do!

Then the food! Oh My Fucking God! The food was great. I think I ate enough that night to feed about five starving Ethiopians, and hell you know that is a lot! After dinner, I helped mom clean up. Then the family along with my girlfriend just sat around and talked like the good ol' days. Damn you don't cherish freedom, talks, or anything of that nature until you lose it! I was so glad to be home!

Two years later I had completely turned my life around. The whole family was doing great, at least I thought they were. My dad seemed to be having some problems. Really big problems! I was out of state about three weeks ago, and I got a telephone call. It was from my sister. She told me that mom had been murdered. She said that dad had snapped in the bedroom and had sliced mom open from her chin to her vagina. Not only did he kill mom mom, but he also videotaped himself fucking a girl with a broken neck at the scene of and accident. He made my mother watch the videotape right before he sliced her open. What a sick bastard! The sudden death of my mother and the sudden insanity by my father had made an impact on my wrestling career.

I realized that I was not being respected like I should be respected in the AWF. I was not making enough money either. But being the best wrestler in The Vortex Circle™ has its advantages, as Matt Herman and Jamie McCallum of the PCW approached me. They wanted me in their federation and they were willing to do anything to get me. So here I was looking at a mere $375,000.00 a month contract from the Anarchist Wrestling Federation when I could be looking at a $30 million contract with PCW. So what did I do? I done what any smart human being would do. I took both contracts! Talk about a news flash. People went crazy over my signing with PCW!

Everything was set. I was to make my presence known on July 28, 2002, as I would interfere in a match between HaVoK and Satist. Before I went to the arena that night to make my huge debut. I had one place that I needed to go. I went to my mom's gravesite and I gave her this letter. It read,

It has been three weeks since I said goodbye to you. It's been that long that I've been without a Mother. I think I've survived well, but it would've been better with you here beside me. For now, I am becoming a better man, a replica of what you always wanted me to be. Even though you left my world so quickly in my short years of life, I can still remember everything that you have taught me. The biggest lesson that you have taught me, was that even though you're gone, and I still have the memory of you, you'll never be replaced. That is why I'm writing this letter.

For three weeks, I watched the laugh lines of Dad and it is pissing me off even more every day. I have seen his eyes, which are sparkling because you are out of my life. I watched him cry, in agony, because he said that you should have gone sooner. I had tried to give him hope, and courage, the strength to move on when you were here...but he refused. Now I want to kill the son of a bitch because he took something away from me that I truly loved, YOU!

But YOU opened my eyes. You opened my heart. Everyday these past three weeks I have seen him smile everyday and it makes me want to kill him everyday! I see his beautiful smile return, and I see the twinkle in his eye because you are gone, but that is not why he should be smiling. He shouldn't even be smiling at all! You have brought life back to me. He had told me once that his life was over. He told me that he didn't want anything good for him. He had once said that he wanted to end his life. The next day he took yours. I thought it was all the medicine talking but I guess I was wrong. That is what I get for thinking.

After I visited and talked with mom, I flew back to the arena where I was set to make my debut. The crowd, the employees, the wrestlers, they all had no idea that I was there. The only ones that knew were Matt, Jamie, and myself. HaVoK and Satist's match was winding down when I took my entrance. I ran into the ring and laid out HaVoK. Then with a running DDT, Satist was on the mat. But that wasn't all folks, the fans knew what was coming. As I set that table up and the fans went wild, I felt the electricity of the PCW crowd. There it was, the table setting up close to the turnbuckle on the outside of the ring waiting on one of the greatest moves today. I grabbed HaVoK up off the mat and we climbed to the top turnbuckle. With the greatest of balance I hoisted him in the air in the falcon arrow position. Then I took the leap off the top turnbuckle, crashing HaVoK through the table. The fans got more than they bargained for and they loved it. The sudden impact of my body hitting the cold concrete floor hurt but all of the pain was worth it as I saw HaVoK lying unconscious on the floor. The fans cheered me and they should. My arrival was final!

I got backstage and talk about some happy owners. Jamie and Matt were jumping around screaming “Ratings, Ratings, Ratings!” Some of the wrestlers even congratulated me on such and excellent debut. The plan had worked; I got HaVoK and Satist's attention just like I wanted to. Now the stage was set for one of the biggest matches in PCW and The Vortex's history, a six-man battle for the PCW Heavyweight title. You have the six biggest names in PCW battling it out for the most prestigious title there is. Names like HaVoK, Satist, Ryan Grayn, Eric Badger, Shavo, and yours truly Rayne! As this line up of great superstars was announced the fans went crazy. Ticket sales for the Pay Per View skyrocketed and sold out in less than five minutes. Front row tickets to this Pay Per View were selling for $500 by ticket scalpers.

Rayne: “HaVoK what the hell were you thinking? Did you not know that committing a crime is going to get you in trouble? I guess you thought that since you are a big name within the PCW ranks that you can do what ever the hell you want and get away with it. Obviously Mr. Spreewell and the Honorable Judge Brotherton thought differently. Now look at you, your ass has to pick up trash on the side of road for three thousand hours, you don't get paid for six months because all of your paycheck is going to a local charity, you had to pay a bond of like five million dollars, plus you have to go back to court in two weeks. Hell son if the entire world thought they knew the law like you claim to know it, the whole world would just be fucked! You are a disgrace to the entire wrestling community. Plus you are about the biggest illiterate son of a bitch I have ever met. Let me break this down for you so that even you can understand this. This Sunday, you know the day God rested; there will be a match. It will involve six people, but hey dumbass here is a news flash for you! The match is not a damn six-man tag match. I am surprised that you actually got the number of participants right for God's sake!

Plus what the hell are you thinking with your gimmick? From what I understand you are a fairy wannabe that tries to read and control other people's minds. Um alrighty then. This is the way I see it. You know the last person that tried to pull a `mind reading' scam was Ms. Cleo and guess what she ended up jail! But hey, you will be going to jail soon, so I guess that is right up your alley.

(In best fake Jamaican accent): Hello I'm cousin HaVoK Mon. Be very afraid of me Mon because if you don't Mon, I will control your mind Mon. You know Mon, I try to be a wrestler Mon but I suck at it Mon worse than my momma sucking on a joint Mon! Well I need some weed Mon because I need another charge against my record Mon. So call me now so I can take your money to buy some weed. Thank ya Mon! (end of fake Jamaican accent)

HaVoK you claim that you have been waiting to meet me for a while now. But if I remember correctly, I swear I saw you before. You were in Central Park doing some `community service,' but this time it wasn't because a Judge ordered you to. Anyways I was walking around and I saw you picking up some trash and to my amazement, you starting eating the shit. Now if you had a problem with money, there is always a job waiting for you at the local animal shelter. Of course you would be shoveling shit all day but that is a walk in the park (no pun intended) from some of the shit you put in your mouth. Then a week later I went back to Central Park and there you were again. This time you were not picking up garbage but you were fighting the damn pigeons for some bread. Unfortunately for you, you lost!

HaVoK it is a proven fact that the one who does the dissing ends up being exactly that. So the leads me to this question? Are you throwing in the towel? Are you exchanging your wrestling tights for a pink leotard? Will you be visiting Dr. Wade in the near future so that you may tuck your dick inside out forever? If I show up at the wrestling parties thrown my Matt and Jamie, will I see you there in a skirt and some fishnet stockings? HaVoK, buddy, pal, I really hope that you seek professional attention for this before your fetish gets way out of hand! But if I know you well enough you are going to refuse to seek help. So like the friend that I am I bought you two tickets, one for you and one for Blazer, to Louisiana this weekend. I heard that there is a Gay Rights Conventions, but be careful I heard their parties are such a `drag'. Now what is this I hear about you and Blazer doing what in the back before every match? Now when I made fun of you for trying to act Jamaican, I didn't really know you `puffed' for real! Man I learn something new everyday!

HaVoK you call yourself Hell! Well buddy let me let you in on a little secret. If you do not change your ways, you know stealing thongs from JcPennys, bootlegging illegal fetish porn from the Internet, or whatever the hell you did to get a criminal record, you will be going to Hell. There is no doubt about it.

Satist, Satist, Satist what is the PCW going to do with you? I mean you came to the PCW on a development deal and now I see why. Unlike you HaVoK can at least count. He at least said that there would be six men fighting in the ring. Yes I know he said it was a six-man tag but hey, he got the number right. I think you are about a person short. Wasn't it you that said `when it is all said and done four beat and broken men will lay in the ring at my feet.'? NEWS FLASH if four people are lying at your feet and one is standing then four plus one does not equal six. You need to find that other person before you start running your mouth. It might help you look at least a little smarter than a goat!

Satist, I am on your `shit list' now? When you say `shit list' does that mean that you have a list of names that you would love to take a dump on so that you can get a good orgasm? Um what the fuck is up with PCW? I mean every one is going around PCW and they have some kind of weird fetishes. HaVoK's is drag and Satist's is shitting on people. Plus I haven't even found out about all the others. Now Satist, shitting on people may get you off faster than Blazer gets on his knees, but I will not be the person you shit on! You bring your little fetish to the ring and I will have HaVoK scoop you up just like the pile of shit that you are!

Ryan I hardly know anything about you but I do know some stuff. Now from what I heard you are British and your wife is American. Buddy I do not see how this is working out. I mean how can a beautiful girl from the United States of America, the main super power of the world, marry some one who bows for a damn queen? Plus look at this way. You're wife stays pissed at and you wonder why, right? It is because she told me that you are not satisfying her in all the right ways. Then I asked myself about what she meant and I came up with a solution. You aren't satisfying her in bed and I began to wonder why! Ryan is there something that you should let you wife and the world know? I mean it does make sense; you have a little black dude that worships the ground that you walk on, so why look at Stephanie naked when you could look at a short fat black guy naked! Are you a fucking dumbass?? That is all I got say about you, you fucking dumbass!

Plus a lot of the fans want to know Ryan, why in the hell did you change your gimmick? Remember you were once Sleepwalker, King of all Narcolepsy. Then you changed your gimmick after you got your ass handed to you by Satist and Sandman! Man you are pretty pathetic!

Do you have problems sleeping at night? Do you stay up all night drinking Root beer and eating Cheese puffs? Does the sound of Martha Stewart and George Foreman's voices make you want to spend money? Well if you answered yes then you have a severe case of infomercialitis. So I am here to present to you PCW's own infomercial, SHAVO! That's right folks, you can get pictures, videos, etc. on PCW's corniest gimmick! What the hell is a Shavo you ask? Is it a wrestler? A new Soda? Some shaving cream maybe? Hell none of us know but we are going to try to sell Shavo to you for three easy payments of $69.95! Why should you buy Shavo? Because according to him, he is one of PCW's best. But folks that does not come with a lifetime money back guarantee!

What the fuck is up with your name man? I mean are we `badgering' the witness? Because I know that PCW has enough problems with the legal system without them trying to put up with you! You call yourself talent and why wouldn't you? You do have talent. The talent to be the biggest ass kisser, shit collector, and most annoying individual in the PCW. Hell man I think Shadow blade is more of a wrestler than you are! Enough about you now!

This Sunday six men will step into the ring as competitors. One of them will step out a champion. You see the competition, you know that it is coming; can you stop it before it is here? I see that I have five men as competition: Ryan Grayn, Satist, Eric Badger, Shavo, and HaVoK! These men are in my way as I am going to make history. My first match in the PCW and I get a title shot. That is how important this match is. The booking committee did their job when they scheduled this match. It's every wrestling fan's dream to see a match of this caliber and in just a mere six days they will see it.

People doubt me. They don't think that I can handle my own in the PCW! Well they are in for a rude awakening! I am not the number one wrestler in The Vortex Circle™ for nothing. I am not the highest paid superstar in The Vortex™ for nothing. I was drafted by the PCW to bring excitement. Excitement is what I will bring when I step into the ring for the first time on Sunday. Sunday will mark the beginning of a new era in the PCW! The Era of Terror, the Era of Pain, the Era that is considered to be filled with Acid Rayne!"