Post by PsYcho on Jun 21, 2015 13:59:26 GMT -5
"Jules.........open up! It's me!" PsYcho exclaimed as he banged on the door of her Miami apartment in the middle of the night.
"Just a minute........"
Julie Chapman, a friend of Cyke's for nearly a decade, looked through her door's peephole to confirm her late night caller.
Surely enough, it was indeed her old friend from the SCIW territory: The Hardcore Hall of Famer himself! How could tis be, though? Mike "PsYcho" Price has been dead for three years! She went to his funeral, for GoD's sake! And here he was........banging on her door at 3 am. Nevertheless, she opened the door and he swiftly shuffled inside.
"Umm....Cyke? Like....you're supposed to be dead...and stuff. Why, I mean how...."
"Jesse Styles, Julie. It was all his handiwork."
"What in the hell happened? You look like death warmed over....and stuff."
"It all started back when I came out of retirement in 2011............."
"Hold that thought while I put on some coffee....."
Julie walked into the kitchen and began to run some water while Cyke settled into an easy chair. It felt like the first time in months that he had been able to sit down. Since arriving back in The States a few days prior, he had been dodging Styles' mercenaries and bounty hunters at every turn. The man who will stop at nothing to recapture Cyke: who he tortured night and day for months on end prior to his escape. He had somehow received word that Price was not only still alive, but had escaped the hellish prison he had been in aboard The Narcissist, sank it, and had escaped back to America with a vendetta.
"Cyke, if this is about New Edge Wrestling, they've suspended operations for the time being." Julie says as she pours two hot cups of coffee. As she walks back into the living room, Cyke continues to speak.
"I know all about that, Jules. That's what makes this so difficult. It's not like I can just drive to Chicago tonight and burn down NEW Headquarters. It wouldn't do any good. No, I've got to hunt him and his pack of "yes men" down and take them out one by one. My guess: they're all taking bookings in every fed across the country. Trying to poach talent for their relaunch."
"That makes sense, but what do they want with you? Why did they fake your death and abduct you in the first place?? Why did they torment your family? Beat your own son like a redheaded stepchild??"
"Julie....." PsYcho takes a sip of his coffee....
"Have you ever heard of the ruthless pirate Adelbert Syxx?"
"Of course! He sank The Spanish Treasure Fleet..........and stuff!"
"In 2011, NEW was facing a huge financial crisis. A few bad investments on Styles' part as well as some misdealings had landed him in hot water! He was being investigated by both the IRS and the FBI. Jesse Styles was heading to prison and he was going away for a long time. He somehow learned that The Price Family were direct descendants of Adelbert Syxx. The same Adelbert Syxx that captured The Spanish Treasure Fleet and along with it, an estimated haul of gold worth approximately four billion dollars in today's economy."
"FOUR BILLION!!!?!?!?!??!"
"Yes, four billion. More than enough money to make his legal problems go away and to keep his wrestling empire together for a very long time."
"But...like, what does that have to do with you??"
"Well, after his legendary plunder, word got back to Spain that their riches were in possession of some pirate and that didn't set well with The Spanish Empire. They sent their entire armada looking for my great-great-great-great-great grandfather. You see, at some point during his travels, he had made port in what is now Corpus Christi, Texas. There, he met a girl and after a night at the tavern...."
"Cyke, I know where babies come from! But I also know that he was eventually hunted down, executed, and the gold returned to Spain."
"That's where you're wrong, Jules. What really happened was this: Spain double taxed their provinces along The Caribbean and after months of tireless searching, rounded up some random drunk and took him back to Seville to save face. The Spanish Empire hung an innocent man. Captain Syxx returned to Corpus Christi and retired to the quiet life of a family man and opened a shipyard. His fortune, my family's fortune, hidden away on a desolate uncharted isle somewhere between here and Havana."
"So, Styles was after that, huh? Why didn't he just ask you to lend him some money??"
"Well, he did, but it wasn't that simple. Over the course of a few hundred years and generations of the family, its precise location has been lost. He left clues to it in some of the letters that have been handed down for a few generations now, but that's it. No one has ever recovered the gold. Seeing as Spain claimed to have recovered it some time in the 1650s, no one ever really went looking for it either."
"Cyke, that's quite a story. But how did you escape?? Why are you in my living room in the middle of the night??? What on Earth are you planning to do next???"
"Well, I'm here because it's too dangerous to go home to Amarillo. I don't want my family to be dragged back into this mess. I guess my next step is to hit every flea market, arena, county fair, and bingo hall that is booking wrestling to see if one of Styles' goons shows up there. I've got to take them out one by one: before he relaunches his company.
Otherwise, it's me against the entire NEW......and I'm way too old for that shit."
"Let me think......ummm........ever heard of NAW?? North Atlantic Wrestling??? I've been hearing that they're holding an open invitational battle royal.........and stuff."
"That sounds like a good place to start looking! You down for a roadtrip, Jules?"
"Cyke???"
"I can't do it without you, Julie. For all legal intents and purposes, I'm a dead man. I can't exactly book a flight, rent a hotel room or a car, or even sign a post match paycheck. You'll have to handle all of these things for me: just like old times."
"Cyke.........I've already got transportation covered. When you died, or whatever, your son and I arranged for your car to be transferred to a storage facility here in Miami. I'm guessing that your driver's license expired awhile back, though."
"Eh, who needs a license? I mean, what are they going to do: arrest a dead man for driving on revoked?"
With that, Julie got up and began to rifle through her closet for her suitcase and a few changes of clothes. It looks like her and Cyke are heading out on a long journey: first stop, NAW!
"Just a minute........"
Julie Chapman, a friend of Cyke's for nearly a decade, looked through her door's peephole to confirm her late night caller.
Surely enough, it was indeed her old friend from the SCIW territory: The Hardcore Hall of Famer himself! How could tis be, though? Mike "PsYcho" Price has been dead for three years! She went to his funeral, for GoD's sake! And here he was........banging on her door at 3 am. Nevertheless, she opened the door and he swiftly shuffled inside.
"Umm....Cyke? Like....you're supposed to be dead...and stuff. Why, I mean how...."
"Jesse Styles, Julie. It was all his handiwork."
"What in the hell happened? You look like death warmed over....and stuff."
"It all started back when I came out of retirement in 2011............."
"Hold that thought while I put on some coffee....."
Julie walked into the kitchen and began to run some water while Cyke settled into an easy chair. It felt like the first time in months that he had been able to sit down. Since arriving back in The States a few days prior, he had been dodging Styles' mercenaries and bounty hunters at every turn. The man who will stop at nothing to recapture Cyke: who he tortured night and day for months on end prior to his escape. He had somehow received word that Price was not only still alive, but had escaped the hellish prison he had been in aboard The Narcissist, sank it, and had escaped back to America with a vendetta.
"Cyke, if this is about New Edge Wrestling, they've suspended operations for the time being." Julie says as she pours two hot cups of coffee. As she walks back into the living room, Cyke continues to speak.
"I know all about that, Jules. That's what makes this so difficult. It's not like I can just drive to Chicago tonight and burn down NEW Headquarters. It wouldn't do any good. No, I've got to hunt him and his pack of "yes men" down and take them out one by one. My guess: they're all taking bookings in every fed across the country. Trying to poach talent for their relaunch."
"That makes sense, but what do they want with you? Why did they fake your death and abduct you in the first place?? Why did they torment your family? Beat your own son like a redheaded stepchild??"
"Julie....." PsYcho takes a sip of his coffee....
"Have you ever heard of the ruthless pirate Adelbert Syxx?"
"Of course! He sank The Spanish Treasure Fleet..........and stuff!"
"In 2011, NEW was facing a huge financial crisis. A few bad investments on Styles' part as well as some misdealings had landed him in hot water! He was being investigated by both the IRS and the FBI. Jesse Styles was heading to prison and he was going away for a long time. He somehow learned that The Price Family were direct descendants of Adelbert Syxx. The same Adelbert Syxx that captured The Spanish Treasure Fleet and along with it, an estimated haul of gold worth approximately four billion dollars in today's economy."
"FOUR BILLION!!!?!?!?!??!"
"Yes, four billion. More than enough money to make his legal problems go away and to keep his wrestling empire together for a very long time."
"But...like, what does that have to do with you??"
"Well, after his legendary plunder, word got back to Spain that their riches were in possession of some pirate and that didn't set well with The Spanish Empire. They sent their entire armada looking for my great-great-great-great-great grandfather. You see, at some point during his travels, he had made port in what is now Corpus Christi, Texas. There, he met a girl and after a night at the tavern...."
"Cyke, I know where babies come from! But I also know that he was eventually hunted down, executed, and the gold returned to Spain."
"That's where you're wrong, Jules. What really happened was this: Spain double taxed their provinces along The Caribbean and after months of tireless searching, rounded up some random drunk and took him back to Seville to save face. The Spanish Empire hung an innocent man. Captain Syxx returned to Corpus Christi and retired to the quiet life of a family man and opened a shipyard. His fortune, my family's fortune, hidden away on a desolate uncharted isle somewhere between here and Havana."
"So, Styles was after that, huh? Why didn't he just ask you to lend him some money??"
"Well, he did, but it wasn't that simple. Over the course of a few hundred years and generations of the family, its precise location has been lost. He left clues to it in some of the letters that have been handed down for a few generations now, but that's it. No one has ever recovered the gold. Seeing as Spain claimed to have recovered it some time in the 1650s, no one ever really went looking for it either."
"Cyke, that's quite a story. But how did you escape?? Why are you in my living room in the middle of the night??? What on Earth are you planning to do next???"
"Well, I'm here because it's too dangerous to go home to Amarillo. I don't want my family to be dragged back into this mess. I guess my next step is to hit every flea market, arena, county fair, and bingo hall that is booking wrestling to see if one of Styles' goons shows up there. I've got to take them out one by one: before he relaunches his company.
Otherwise, it's me against the entire NEW......and I'm way too old for that shit."
"Let me think......ummm........ever heard of NAW?? North Atlantic Wrestling??? I've been hearing that they're holding an open invitational battle royal.........and stuff."
"That sounds like a good place to start looking! You down for a roadtrip, Jules?"
"Cyke???"
"I can't do it without you, Julie. For all legal intents and purposes, I'm a dead man. I can't exactly book a flight, rent a hotel room or a car, or even sign a post match paycheck. You'll have to handle all of these things for me: just like old times."
"Cyke.........I've already got transportation covered. When you died, or whatever, your son and I arranged for your car to be transferred to a storage facility here in Miami. I'm guessing that your driver's license expired awhile back, though."
"Eh, who needs a license? I mean, what are they going to do: arrest a dead man for driving on revoked?"
With that, Julie got up and began to rifle through her closet for her suitcase and a few changes of clothes. It looks like her and Cyke are heading out on a long journey: first stop, NAW!