Post by Storm on Feb 18, 2015 15:54:54 GMT -5
A storm is coming..
**As the cameras faded into the scene, a gruff recognizable voice echoed through the small room which was engulfed in absolute darkness. With the viewers and camera crew trying to figure out where the sound had came from, a spark of light suddenly crept through the miniblinds and simultaneously the light bulb above where the camera crew were standing began to flicker on and off. Despite not being a good light source, you could now begin to recognize a mans face as he emerged from the darkness and came into the dim light. He further emerged into the light, running his fingers through his blonde highlights whilst gazing deep into the camera lenses. With his dark brown eyes. He clasped his hands together, smirking arrogantly as he licked his dry lips.**
New York Brooklyn. October 28th, 1988. That's when the world welcomed me. Mark Storm. The future of wrestling. The man I am today. The only child raised by a single mother. My dad was living in Albuquerque. I didn't really see him a lot during my early days, but I eventually connected with him later on in life. I'll get to that later. I guess as a kid I always knew I was going to be something on the lines with 'fighting'. I mean come on. I grew up in Brooklyn. I saw things that influenced me. I saw things that scared me. I saw things that will always haunt me. Growing up in Brooklyn, it makes a young kid grow up quick, he has to otherwise he will get eaten alive. I was one of those kids who had to grow up quickly. Living in a two bedroom house, just me and my mother who had two jobs, meaning I didn't get to see her a lot as a youngster. Resulting in my decline.
**Storm paused wrapping tape around his wrist as the room remained silent. He looked back up at the camera, finishing his wrist tape with his left hand, and moving onto his right wrist.**
I wasn't bad at school, I was well behaved, well mannered, always had a smile on his face and achieved my target grades. But by the time I got back home I had no one to confide in. I was forced to create imaginary friends who would look after me, and listen to my whereabouts and every detail of my life. Fuck diaries. That shit was gay back in those days, anyone see you with a diary you're pretty much fucked. But then again, imaginary friends aren't any better. I must of looked like a loon when people peeped through my window and found me talking to thin air. Oh the embarrassment. The worst thing was I gave them names Deandre and Frank. Frank is my fathers name, who at this specific time I hadn't really seen that much. And Deandre.. well I don't know where I got that name from, but it suited my liking I suppose.
**He paused once again as he finished wrapping the tape around his left arm. Storm was wearing a t-shirt, which had imprinted on it "A storm is coming". He once again ran his fingers through his hair, perhaps he was thinking about what he was going to say next.**
But yeah, New York Brooklyn. Gentrification. That's what people tried to do to Brooklyn back when I was growing up. It never worked. With numerous of gangs hanging out by each street corner, smoking pot and selling it was an easy way of making money I guess, still is an easy way. By the age of eleven, that's when I finally ventured out in the open so I can actually meet some friends, people to hang with. Unfortunately, I mixed in with the wrong crowd.
I didn't know it. I was eleven! At that time all I knew was that I loved power rangers and that girls were still considered icky and shit. I didn't know right from wrong, I just wanted to have some fucking friends for once. Deandre and Frank were getting a bit boring for my liking. Where was I? Oh yeah, so I mixed in with the wrong crowd. Hanging out with kids who were two years above me. Michael Moore, the leader of this group of misfits; lived around the corner from me, had bleach blonde hair, and big brown eyes. I met him at the grocery shop after attempting to buy a can of cola. I didn't have enough. So Michael just took the can off of me and ran out of the store. I managed to bump into him on the way out. With tears running down each cheek, he gave me the cola can saying that he saw I didn't have enough to pay for it, so stole it for me. I thought that was pretty bad ass! He was the first vigilante I managed to meet, and the first friend I've ever had.
**Storm smirked as the suspected memories ran through his mind, afterwards he regained re-concentration, ;transferring back to his more serious face as he gazed once again at the camera.**
Next, mister Christopher Ramore. African American, black hair with brown eyes. A light skinned complexion. He lived two blocks away from me. I met him through Michael who introduced me to him after a few months of getting to know Mike. Chris like me was an only child so he understood why I was so awkward and shy to be around other kids. Out of the group, I probably miss him the most. Zed Lucas. Nicknamed the weaponry! Why? Simply because he managed to get his hands on everything! Nun-chucks, pistols, samurai swords, you name it he had it all! Lucas was psychotic. Abused most of his life by his step father, apparently "tortured" on one occasion. We all knew what Lucas had gone through with his life but despite that we didn't bring it up, not once. And finally, mister Jasper Black. African American, a reasonably dark skin tone, about six foot by the age of thirteen and at the time we all thought he was going to make it as a professional basketball player. Pretty stereotypical I know, but he was actually really good. Its shame he fucked everything up.. its a shame we all fucked everything up!
I dropped out of school at 16. My mother was angry and threatened to kick me out, but I was going through the phase of revolt. Looking back at it now I regret the way I used to treat my mother. I used to honestly treat her like shit. And she didn't deserve it. She worked so hard to put food on the table, and clothes on my back but all I ever thought about was my own needs. I was a self centered asshole.
I think you can take a guess what I did next. Let me give you a clue, it involves drugs.
Cocaine, crystal meth, magic mushrooms, marijuana, heroin, all the heavy shit. I used. Bought it. Stole it. And sold it. Making thousands by the age of seventeen. I used to fight for that shit. Pure new york style street fighting. No rules. No fucking officials just two men going at it, kicks and punches to the face until one guy starts bleeding. The winner getting money. Easy fucking money! My mom knew about all the shit that was happening, but she decided to take no attention to it and ignore the fact that I was becoming a druggie. I told her that I was getting all of the money from a job Zed's uncle had employed me to do, involving fixing cars and shit. Despite saying she believed me, my mother always knew that it was all bull shit.
Alcohol became too weak for me. I needed the heavy shit. We pretty much ran a drug cartel at Zed's yard for around a year or two, making money fast was no problem. The only problem was getting caught. We managed to sustain the business for another two years, till I got to the age of nineteen when the incident occurred.
You know what happens on the streets.
Word goes round about drug dealers, people want more of the shit and are willing to pay extra on top. The more people that knew, the more riskier it became. We didn't know who to trust. With undercover cops pretty much located everywhere, who can you trust? It was getting to a point when we couldn't even trust each other. With so much money being made.. greed began to take its toll on each of us.
$500,000 dollars.
Imagine that. Sitting right next to you whilst your high as fuck trying to figure out what is on TV. That's how much we had fucking made out of all these years. We were so close from walking away. Free with 125,000 each. You know what I would have done with that money? I would have moved out of my moms house and get a nice apartment somewhere, starting a new fresh life. Obviously things don't go according to plan. And with word going round about how much we were making from this whole operation, the feds found out; arresting us all.
Scared. Alone. Frightened.
Sitting in a prison cell waiting for my verdict. I had a pretty good lawyer on the job and luckily the cops didn't have enough evidence to connect me with possession of drugs and shit.. all the shit was at Zed's who ended up getting nine years. Chris and Jasper both got five years as they were in the house when the police busted them. And me.. well I got out lucky. One year behind bars and six months of community service. As far as I was concerned, I fucking won the lottery.
With all the money gone. And everything I had worked for totally diminished. I decided to move in with my dad, I needed to get away from Brooklyn. Despite my love for the city it only brought up bad memories. Memories of my loneliness as a child, memories of Zed, Chris and Jasper who had all been sentenced longer than me, I needed to start fresh.
Albuquerque with the Dad wasn't bad. At this point I was 20 years of age. It wasn't too bad, luckily as a child I went to see my dad a couple of weekends a month, but I hadn't seen him since I was about 14 but I guess that was my fault, he made effort to contact me but I shut him out for these friends of mine. It was all forgotten now. He was just happy to see me I guess. I can see why people need a father figure in their lives now. Look at the way I started. I fucked up because I had no one to guide me to a path, I just had a group of misfits.
He taught me some life lessons whilst I was living with him. He pretty much made me go to school for two years, so I could graduate. He also made me take self defense classes, which is where I turned to the man I am today.
Lets be honest. I wasn't the smartest cookie on the plate. Academically I didn't give a shit. What I was good at was selling drugs and fighting. And with my drug career out of the window, I only had one option left. So I started to give a shit. I started attending extra classes whenever I could and hitting the gym late at night and early in the morning.
Jab, Jab, Jab, Right Hook
Jab, Jab, Jab, Left Hook
Jab, Jab, Jab, Right Hook
Jab, Jab, Jab, Left Hook
**Whilst saying this, Storm acted out the movements of the punches quickly; licking his lips excessively as he done this. Once he finished, he clasped his hands together and looked back at the camera.**
A repeated pattern was embedded in my mind. The urge to beat the crap out of someone.
Mixed martial arts is what I studied and really wanted to get into. More specifically cage fighting. Something about being trapped in a cage with someone intrigued me... not in that way.. in fighting terms. No interferences. Trapped in a steel cage which can be used as a weapon itself. That is where it all started off for me, in a little company called Pride Original Promotion. POP. To abbreviate it.
I didn't start off well truth be told. Losing my first three matches before I finally began to find some rhythm in the way I fought. Understanding the basic concepts was easy enough, but trying to get to the next level, that's where I went wrong. Going into my fourth match however, I didn't envision myself winning. Conviction is something else I lacked at the time. A quick superman punch managed to secure the win for me, a move I now call the new york hustle.
This helped me to build some momentum, and helped me gain another four wins on the trot which gave me some recognition from big time federations. Getting paid around 200 a week was good to live off. But getting pain 5,000 a week, now that was just insane.
But in order to get this settlement, I would have to hang up my mixed martial arts boots and transform into a professional wrestler. Total Extreme Wrestling CO, liked the way I fought in the ring and because of my six foot three stature they thought with a little bit more wrestling training, I could become something big.
I did become something big. I became a TEW legend in the space of a year. I won the world title. I won the tag titles, and I won the first ever barbed wired steel cage massacre match. But when the company closed I thought that was it.
My limelight time was over.
But then that same evening a phone call for United Nations Wrestling ensured me that the dream was far from over. UNW, I did my shit over there and pretty much repeated what I done over in TEW. I became a triple crown champion within the space of two years and was named wrestler of the year in my first year there.
Amazing huh?
But like TEW, financially UNW couldn't cope and this led the company to its closure. This time I knew that I didn't have to go back to the drawing board. With a ton of offers from companies, pretty much begging me to join with money.. I decided to reject them all for OCW. Online Championship Wrestling.
A company with deep history. A company that matches my style of wrestling. Fast, extreme, technical wrestlers.. however I got that little bit of an edge with my mixed martial arts background. OCW is my new home and I hope to stay here for a long time.
The greatest superstars in the world are here in OCW. Ian Bishop, Sean Fuller, Brianna, Curt Canon, Kenshin, Pryde, Syren, Roach.. there's a whole list of them. On May the 5th a storm is coming to OCW. That storm is me. Mark Storm. The future of professional wrestling.
You've pretty much heard it all about me now. I don't care if you hate me. I don't care if you love me. I just want you to appreciate my story and how I got here, from nothing to something. This journey that I've been on, its continuing, and OCW is where the next chapter begins.
**Once Storm had finished his sentence, the room suddenly engulfed into darkness once again. After a few minutes had passed, the lights had restored full power, however Storm had now vanished creating a mutter of confusion and amazement from the camera crew. The cameras then faded away into darkness.**
**As the cameras faded into the scene, a gruff recognizable voice echoed through the small room which was engulfed in absolute darkness. With the viewers and camera crew trying to figure out where the sound had came from, a spark of light suddenly crept through the miniblinds and simultaneously the light bulb above where the camera crew were standing began to flicker on and off. Despite not being a good light source, you could now begin to recognize a mans face as he emerged from the darkness and came into the dim light. He further emerged into the light, running his fingers through his blonde highlights whilst gazing deep into the camera lenses. With his dark brown eyes. He clasped his hands together, smirking arrogantly as he licked his dry lips.**
New York Brooklyn. October 28th, 1988. That's when the world welcomed me. Mark Storm. The future of wrestling. The man I am today. The only child raised by a single mother. My dad was living in Albuquerque. I didn't really see him a lot during my early days, but I eventually connected with him later on in life. I'll get to that later. I guess as a kid I always knew I was going to be something on the lines with 'fighting'. I mean come on. I grew up in Brooklyn. I saw things that influenced me. I saw things that scared me. I saw things that will always haunt me. Growing up in Brooklyn, it makes a young kid grow up quick, he has to otherwise he will get eaten alive. I was one of those kids who had to grow up quickly. Living in a two bedroom house, just me and my mother who had two jobs, meaning I didn't get to see her a lot as a youngster. Resulting in my decline.
**Storm paused wrapping tape around his wrist as the room remained silent. He looked back up at the camera, finishing his wrist tape with his left hand, and moving onto his right wrist.**
I wasn't bad at school, I was well behaved, well mannered, always had a smile on his face and achieved my target grades. But by the time I got back home I had no one to confide in. I was forced to create imaginary friends who would look after me, and listen to my whereabouts and every detail of my life. Fuck diaries. That shit was gay back in those days, anyone see you with a diary you're pretty much fucked. But then again, imaginary friends aren't any better. I must of looked like a loon when people peeped through my window and found me talking to thin air. Oh the embarrassment. The worst thing was I gave them names Deandre and Frank. Frank is my fathers name, who at this specific time I hadn't really seen that much. And Deandre.. well I don't know where I got that name from, but it suited my liking I suppose.
**He paused once again as he finished wrapping the tape around his left arm. Storm was wearing a t-shirt, which had imprinted on it "A storm is coming". He once again ran his fingers through his hair, perhaps he was thinking about what he was going to say next.**
But yeah, New York Brooklyn. Gentrification. That's what people tried to do to Brooklyn back when I was growing up. It never worked. With numerous of gangs hanging out by each street corner, smoking pot and selling it was an easy way of making money I guess, still is an easy way. By the age of eleven, that's when I finally ventured out in the open so I can actually meet some friends, people to hang with. Unfortunately, I mixed in with the wrong crowd.
I didn't know it. I was eleven! At that time all I knew was that I loved power rangers and that girls were still considered icky and shit. I didn't know right from wrong, I just wanted to have some fucking friends for once. Deandre and Frank were getting a bit boring for my liking. Where was I? Oh yeah, so I mixed in with the wrong crowd. Hanging out with kids who were two years above me. Michael Moore, the leader of this group of misfits; lived around the corner from me, had bleach blonde hair, and big brown eyes. I met him at the grocery shop after attempting to buy a can of cola. I didn't have enough. So Michael just took the can off of me and ran out of the store. I managed to bump into him on the way out. With tears running down each cheek, he gave me the cola can saying that he saw I didn't have enough to pay for it, so stole it for me. I thought that was pretty bad ass! He was the first vigilante I managed to meet, and the first friend I've ever had.
**Storm smirked as the suspected memories ran through his mind, afterwards he regained re-concentration, ;transferring back to his more serious face as he gazed once again at the camera.**
Next, mister Christopher Ramore. African American, black hair with brown eyes. A light skinned complexion. He lived two blocks away from me. I met him through Michael who introduced me to him after a few months of getting to know Mike. Chris like me was an only child so he understood why I was so awkward and shy to be around other kids. Out of the group, I probably miss him the most. Zed Lucas. Nicknamed the weaponry! Why? Simply because he managed to get his hands on everything! Nun-chucks, pistols, samurai swords, you name it he had it all! Lucas was psychotic. Abused most of his life by his step father, apparently "tortured" on one occasion. We all knew what Lucas had gone through with his life but despite that we didn't bring it up, not once. And finally, mister Jasper Black. African American, a reasonably dark skin tone, about six foot by the age of thirteen and at the time we all thought he was going to make it as a professional basketball player. Pretty stereotypical I know, but he was actually really good. Its shame he fucked everything up.. its a shame we all fucked everything up!
I dropped out of school at 16. My mother was angry and threatened to kick me out, but I was going through the phase of revolt. Looking back at it now I regret the way I used to treat my mother. I used to honestly treat her like shit. And she didn't deserve it. She worked so hard to put food on the table, and clothes on my back but all I ever thought about was my own needs. I was a self centered asshole.
I think you can take a guess what I did next. Let me give you a clue, it involves drugs.
Cocaine, crystal meth, magic mushrooms, marijuana, heroin, all the heavy shit. I used. Bought it. Stole it. And sold it. Making thousands by the age of seventeen. I used to fight for that shit. Pure new york style street fighting. No rules. No fucking officials just two men going at it, kicks and punches to the face until one guy starts bleeding. The winner getting money. Easy fucking money! My mom knew about all the shit that was happening, but she decided to take no attention to it and ignore the fact that I was becoming a druggie. I told her that I was getting all of the money from a job Zed's uncle had employed me to do, involving fixing cars and shit. Despite saying she believed me, my mother always knew that it was all bull shit.
Alcohol became too weak for me. I needed the heavy shit. We pretty much ran a drug cartel at Zed's yard for around a year or two, making money fast was no problem. The only problem was getting caught. We managed to sustain the business for another two years, till I got to the age of nineteen when the incident occurred.
You know what happens on the streets.
Word goes round about drug dealers, people want more of the shit and are willing to pay extra on top. The more people that knew, the more riskier it became. We didn't know who to trust. With undercover cops pretty much located everywhere, who can you trust? It was getting to a point when we couldn't even trust each other. With so much money being made.. greed began to take its toll on each of us.
$500,000 dollars.
Imagine that. Sitting right next to you whilst your high as fuck trying to figure out what is on TV. That's how much we had fucking made out of all these years. We were so close from walking away. Free with 125,000 each. You know what I would have done with that money? I would have moved out of my moms house and get a nice apartment somewhere, starting a new fresh life. Obviously things don't go according to plan. And with word going round about how much we were making from this whole operation, the feds found out; arresting us all.
Scared. Alone. Frightened.
Sitting in a prison cell waiting for my verdict. I had a pretty good lawyer on the job and luckily the cops didn't have enough evidence to connect me with possession of drugs and shit.. all the shit was at Zed's who ended up getting nine years. Chris and Jasper both got five years as they were in the house when the police busted them. And me.. well I got out lucky. One year behind bars and six months of community service. As far as I was concerned, I fucking won the lottery.
With all the money gone. And everything I had worked for totally diminished. I decided to move in with my dad, I needed to get away from Brooklyn. Despite my love for the city it only brought up bad memories. Memories of my loneliness as a child, memories of Zed, Chris and Jasper who had all been sentenced longer than me, I needed to start fresh.
Albuquerque with the Dad wasn't bad. At this point I was 20 years of age. It wasn't too bad, luckily as a child I went to see my dad a couple of weekends a month, but I hadn't seen him since I was about 14 but I guess that was my fault, he made effort to contact me but I shut him out for these friends of mine. It was all forgotten now. He was just happy to see me I guess. I can see why people need a father figure in their lives now. Look at the way I started. I fucked up because I had no one to guide me to a path, I just had a group of misfits.
He taught me some life lessons whilst I was living with him. He pretty much made me go to school for two years, so I could graduate. He also made me take self defense classes, which is where I turned to the man I am today.
Lets be honest. I wasn't the smartest cookie on the plate. Academically I didn't give a shit. What I was good at was selling drugs and fighting. And with my drug career out of the window, I only had one option left. So I started to give a shit. I started attending extra classes whenever I could and hitting the gym late at night and early in the morning.
Jab, Jab, Jab, Right Hook
Jab, Jab, Jab, Left Hook
Jab, Jab, Jab, Right Hook
Jab, Jab, Jab, Left Hook
**Whilst saying this, Storm acted out the movements of the punches quickly; licking his lips excessively as he done this. Once he finished, he clasped his hands together and looked back at the camera.**
A repeated pattern was embedded in my mind. The urge to beat the crap out of someone.
Mixed martial arts is what I studied and really wanted to get into. More specifically cage fighting. Something about being trapped in a cage with someone intrigued me... not in that way.. in fighting terms. No interferences. Trapped in a steel cage which can be used as a weapon itself. That is where it all started off for me, in a little company called Pride Original Promotion. POP. To abbreviate it.
I didn't start off well truth be told. Losing my first three matches before I finally began to find some rhythm in the way I fought. Understanding the basic concepts was easy enough, but trying to get to the next level, that's where I went wrong. Going into my fourth match however, I didn't envision myself winning. Conviction is something else I lacked at the time. A quick superman punch managed to secure the win for me, a move I now call the new york hustle.
This helped me to build some momentum, and helped me gain another four wins on the trot which gave me some recognition from big time federations. Getting paid around 200 a week was good to live off. But getting pain 5,000 a week, now that was just insane.
But in order to get this settlement, I would have to hang up my mixed martial arts boots and transform into a professional wrestler. Total Extreme Wrestling CO, liked the way I fought in the ring and because of my six foot three stature they thought with a little bit more wrestling training, I could become something big.
I did become something big. I became a TEW legend in the space of a year. I won the world title. I won the tag titles, and I won the first ever barbed wired steel cage massacre match. But when the company closed I thought that was it.
My limelight time was over.
But then that same evening a phone call for United Nations Wrestling ensured me that the dream was far from over. UNW, I did my shit over there and pretty much repeated what I done over in TEW. I became a triple crown champion within the space of two years and was named wrestler of the year in my first year there.
Amazing huh?
But like TEW, financially UNW couldn't cope and this led the company to its closure. This time I knew that I didn't have to go back to the drawing board. With a ton of offers from companies, pretty much begging me to join with money.. I decided to reject them all for OCW. Online Championship Wrestling.
A company with deep history. A company that matches my style of wrestling. Fast, extreme, technical wrestlers.. however I got that little bit of an edge with my mixed martial arts background. OCW is my new home and I hope to stay here for a long time.
The greatest superstars in the world are here in OCW. Ian Bishop, Sean Fuller, Brianna, Curt Canon, Kenshin, Pryde, Syren, Roach.. there's a whole list of them. On May the 5th a storm is coming to OCW. That storm is me. Mark Storm. The future of professional wrestling.
You've pretty much heard it all about me now. I don't care if you hate me. I don't care if you love me. I just want you to appreciate my story and how I got here, from nothing to something. This journey that I've been on, its continuing, and OCW is where the next chapter begins.
**Once Storm had finished his sentence, the room suddenly engulfed into darkness once again. After a few minutes had passed, the lights had restored full power, however Storm had now vanished creating a mutter of confusion and amazement from the camera crew. The cameras then faded away into darkness.**
