Prologue: When I Was Born..I Was Born The Man!..And When You Step on That Apron Your Ass Becomes Part of The Game That I'm The Man In!
Fade up the Sin Wrestling logo.
In any profession, whether it be athletic or educational, police work or criminal, there will always be one person that stands out above all else. That one man will set the standard that all others will be held to and more often than not, that standard will never be met.
"I AM..... THE MAN!!"
To be compared to the likes of Hulk Hogan or Ric Flair can be one man's greatest achievement. Meant as a compliment, to the best of the best, it is an insult. In the mind of the best, there is no comparison. There is no one on their level and there never will be. It becomes the career of the best to remain the best, to hold off the top of the mountain and fight away all those who seek to claim it as their own. To fight back the threat of elevation for all they are worth.
The theory of elevation is a myth creamed over by internet fan boys. No matter who is on top, the complaints about lack of elevation are evident. For years, they will scream that a man deserves a world championship push and when he receives it, he immediately becomes public enemy number one and another up and comer takes his place as the internet golden boy. Because of the lack of elevation, the fans coined the term "glass ceiling," meaning that the mid-carders could look up through the glass ceiling and see the main event but could never quite reach it. Constantly bumping their heads into the ceiling with no sign of it giving in.
Sid was never the internet golden boy.
Sid made his presence known in Noah Japan for the first time.Immediately upon Entering NOAH, began an intense feud with Kenta Kobashi...Whom he Defeated In an incredible Semifinal match for the NOAH Championship.He eventually went to the finals of the NOAH championship,but lost to Ikuto Hidaka
Although Sitting around and relaxing after his loss, had its perks,this did not suit the self-proclaimed "Man." It was time to return to Wrestling and claim the one belt that should've been his from the beginning. Sid made his appearence in FMW, made his intentions known, and crushed Hisakatsu Oya in his first match .
Sid made the challenge to Hayabusa,and made the promise that the FMW's Show at the Tokyo Egg Dome would be the site where a new Champion would be crowned. Sid and Hayabusa wrestled an epic match, lasting upwards of forty minutes, before Sid hit the Death Trap and put the legendary performer's other foot in the grave, staking claim to his first world championship. "The Man" had finally reached the pinnacle of his career, 5 years of struggling in Pro Wrestling paying off once and for all. Sid's career was riding high .
And then it all came crashing down.
Atushi Onita took over FMW from Hayabusa and his first act of business was to strip all champions of their titles with the intention of crowning new ones later in the night. Sid didn't agree with this method and refused to take part. He threw down the FMW Heavyweight championship and walked away for what he thought would be forever.
Onita failed. FMW was broken. Hayabusa returned to pick up the pieces and announced that forty-five men would do battle in the main event of a PPV entitled Brawl for all . Forty-five men would do battle and one man would walk out with the Frontier Martials arts Wrestling World Heavyweight Championship. After his first reign had ended so suddenly, Sid had to show them that they made a mistake by robbing him of his championship. He entered himself in the match. Everyone immediately wrote him off as hype. A man FMW had washed out before he could become washed up. Many heralded Komazawa Olympic Park Gym as the place where a new contender would step up and take the crown. Veteran, hungry superstars the Likes of Vicious Vic Grimes,Stan"the Lariat"Hansen And Big Van Vader came from all over to try their hand in the main event.
In one match, Sid climbed the ladder to the very top of Frontier Martial arts Wrestling. Eliminating wrestler after wrestler after wrestler until he was the last man standing.His mask broken,blood staining his features, Sid eliminated The Sadistic ECw Legend Sabu to win the FMW championship for the second time.
Forty-four other men came from all over the world to win the title and "The Man" turned every single one of them away as if they were children playing a man's game. Sid showed every single one of them exactly why he was the man to beat. Sid established once and for all that he has broken through that glass ceiling
And now With Sid firmly back in place, panicked. The wrestlers were threatening to quit if something wasn't done about the living, breathing, ass kicking machine known to many as Sid"The Man"Frankenstein. People were getting concussions left and right thanks to Sid and his arsenal of Ring side Weapons, until one night, Hayabusa pulled the trigger that would almost kill Sid's once and for all.
The match was for the FMW World Championship. Sid versus Mr. Gannosuke versus Mammoth Sasaki. Sid dealt out punishment left and right, taking advantage of them like they were first match rookies until Willy "Hido" Takayama and Tetsuhiro Kuroda arrived at ringside on the orders of Hayabusa, distracting Sid long enough for Gannosuke to sneak a pin on Sasaki to steal the world championship.
Sid cornered Ganosuke,Takayama and Kuroda and his ensuing revenge was so fierce, so brutal, so very, very awe inspiring, that Hayabusa had no choice but to Fire Sid before lives were lost.
For nearly three years, the wrestling world had continued on without Sid and the wrestlers have let out a sigh of relief. Elevation has occurred in his absence and new stars have been born. It wasn't until Sin Wrestling opened its doors that Sid decided it was time to make another impact. In a promotion ruled by Corey Page,Sid felt it was his duty to show them what real talent was like.
After sitting back and watching the business evolve without him, he decided that it was time to return, to show the up and comers that they are not the Man.
I stand here, before God and my father in Heaven tonight, as I said I would be: World's Heavyweight champion. In the tradition of Lou Thesz; in the tradition of Jack Brisco; all of the Brisco Brothers; of Dory Funk Jr, of Terry Funk, the man who will never die
and the real "Nature Boy" Buddy Rogers upstairs tonight. From the Harley Races, to the Barry Windhams, to the...
Ric Flairs, I accept this heavyweight title. Wait a second... wait a second, of Kerry Von Erich, of the fat man himself Dusty Rhodes... this is it tonight Dad, God that's beautiful...and Rick Steamboat...
And they can all kiss my ass!
Because, I am not the man who accepts the torch to be handed down to me from an organization that died R.I.P. seven years ago!
"The Franchise" Shane Douglas is the man who ignites the new flame of the SPORT of professional wrestling. Tonight, before God and my father as witness, I declare... myself, "the Franchise" as the new ECW heavyweight champion of the world!
We have set out to change the face of professional wrestling. So, tonight, let the new era begin! The era of the sport of professional wrestling. The era of the "Franchise"
The era of the E-C-W!"
Gold... The most precious of all metals, used to craft the most beautiful and priceless of items of jewellery. Worn by royalty, celebrities, and average Joe on the street. It spans all walks of life. The people who own it may be rich or poor, kind or cruel, big or small, but the gold will have always been a part of their lives.
Gold also used to craft the championships that epitomise the hard work and blood spilt by the wrestlers holding the belts, the belts made of that precious metal, gold. SW, sin wrestling. A wrestling federation that has held so much history in its past. A past fraught with monolithic battles, and scornful feuds. Feuds between sworn enemies, close friends, and people who have only just met. But the past is exactly that, the past, now its time to turn a new leaf.
The same heart of the SW beats on beneath its modern outer shell. The old beliefs, rules and values live on underneath the skin re created for the modern world. SW is a federation that has been held close to peoples hearts, it has been fought over, fought for, and fought between. It has been the centrepiece for some of the greatest shows on earth. It has also been the showcase for the greatest wrestlers on earth. The showcase that has seen legends such as Corey Page, Regan Chambers ,Tony Millennia... All great names. All men have played their part in making the SW the well respected and highly watched federation that it is today.
At first Many people thought it would die a quick death, many thought it would never rise up to the challenge of their rivals, Like ECW it would not be forgotten. Now,it has given a new lease of life for the modern wrestler, and of course, the modern audience. , and its better than ever. With mayhem being released every sunday, and the World Heavyweight Championship constantly defended, not a week goes by without thrills, spills, and titillation being shovelled out of the television at every live broadcast made.
How much Heart ache must a man feel, before he finally snaps....How many years of being second best, before a man finally gives up?? How much pain torture, agony must one man feel before he finally just calls it quits...? Well, for Sid, it's been a long hard road to get where he is at.. Some say where he is at is legendary status, some say its not.. The only reason there are doubters, is because of one word.. Gold.. Something that has cursed the career of Sid since day one.. Sure he's had second best titles, but nothing can compare to the big one, the best one, the world heavyweight championship.. nothing.. absolutely nothing.. This isn't a sad story about some middle aged man, who's on the verge of having a nervous breakdown, yet it's a story about a man that is crazy about one thing and will go through anything to achieve it.. This is a story about a lunatic's quest for a materital possesion..
All story's have happy endings, whether you find the good in it or not, but the story of Sid is one of fear, one of insanity.. The legendary career of Sid"The Man"Frankenstein, has been up and down.. Sure fans remember the days of Sid, the high flying power house, who never got what he wanted.. Who never got the big win, or the big title except for The FMW Title.. Most people just remember a crazy lunatic, who just reaked havoc.. For Sid, he never looks back at the good of his career, only the bad, only a side of failure and toture.. A side of his career that has eaten him alive.. Every since the age of 14, he's been a kid that has fought for his life, wrestling has been his only sanctuary.. But, lately it's only been a place of evil, a place that you look back in and regret.. Theres only one solution, only way to rid the evil that haunts the mind of Sid.. There's only one way to get rid of the bad..
Come back and change the future.. The only way that Sid will get a good nights sleep is if he's sitting in bed, next to the Sin Wrestling Hardcore championship.
The only way to bring back the lives, the old lives, the normal lives of everyone around Sid is to get him what's haunted him for years, gold... Now that he's , aligned himself with Flame.. he just might have the edge he needs to win.
Throughout my life there have been the doubters, those who thought the man was nothing more than a side show act in the circus of professional wrestling. Don't worry about that clown in the mask they said, flying from cages and wrestling with chairs of fire, lets watch the high flyers balancing on the beams at the very top of the promotion. You have been balancing on that beam for the last week and a half but in my mind that's far too long. It's not my fault Zim that you have been placed once more against me.
And i can certainly not be blamed for the madness that is going to take place in the coming week but what I can take responsibility for, what I can take pride in knowing is that I am the man that's going to push you from the comfort of the balance beam. There will be no safety nets when my slight push becomes an over bearing shove, it's Hardcore!
I lay in bed for a long time, staring at the gold band on my finger, wondering how I had ever allowed my life to spiral so far out of my control. The sunlight filtering through the drapes told me that a new day had come, and I was still part of the world whether I wanted to be or not. Whatever crisis Iíd thought myself to be in yesterday should have been behind me. It wasnít. I couldnít understand why I was still alive, and I felt an incredible disappointment because my life insisted on continuing despite my best efforts to end my own existence. If Iíd lived through as much as I remembered from last night I was damned lucky not to be dead, especially since I hadnít had the luxury of proper medical care.
I should have been grateful, or relieved, but I was neither. Iíd fought my entire life, and I had finally given up. Iíd lost too much to think about moving forward. Too many people had lost too much because of me, so much that I didnít deserve one more moment of life. I didnít deserve it and I didnít want it. One of the first things my job taught me was to eliminate a problem at its source. I was the source of the problem. I could no longer pretend otherwise. I needed to be eliminated.
I fumbled blindly for my pistol. I had survived the crash last night because I was drunk. I hadnít been able to drink myself to death because of an abnormally high tolerance for alcohol that had been passed down in genetics for generations. I hadnít died from any of the gunshot wounds Iíd received during my years with Flame and Team Sadistic because I was lucky. Iíd like to see myself dodge a bullet when the muzzle of the gun was in my mouth. Nobody was that lucky.
The gun will misfire. With my luck anyway.
I would be grateful for my death, if for no other reason than to shut that bloody voice in my head the hell up.
I raised up on one arm, unable to find my weapon on the nightstand where it should have been. There was a lamp and a digital alarm clock, the latter of which told me I had slept until well after six in the afternoon. A further search of the immediate area--one that did not require much effort so as not to agitate my hangover--revealed that my pager had fallen to the floor and that even the most expensive of hotel suites could not escape the reach of Team Sadistic. I would have laughed if I was more awake. Iíd spent the past year looking for eternal damnation at the bottom of a bottle or the end of a gun, and had somehow found salvation within my fingertips.
I slammed the drawer containing the Bible shut. Iíd never been much of a religionist.
I gently lowered my head back to the pillow as the gradual throbbing in the back of my brain increased to a skull-splitting pounding. What had I done with my weapon this time? I couldnít remember ever having such a hard time keeping up with anything as Iíd had keeping track of my service pistol during the past twenty-four hours. I groaned as I remembered the crazy girl that had nearly blown my head off with my own gun. My weapon had fallen somewhere on the floorboard of the car and after that, Iíd lost track of it. I certainly hadnít been the one to bring it in, but I didnít remember seeing Charly carrying it, either. Which meant that somewhere in the hotelís parking garage was a stolen Chrysler with one window missing and a loaded gun with my prints all over it in the floorboard that had been used in more than its share of crimes.
I made myself sit up, and wanted to make myself do a hell of a lot more, but I could no longer suppress the pain from all of the injuries I had sustained during the past night. My muscles had locked into position while I slept and refused to move without an almost overwhelming amount of protest. The pain in my head was sharp enough to momentarily blind me. I needed a doctor and about three days worth of emergency care, but could not afford to subject myself to that kind of helplessness.
After last night, there had to be some authorities assigned to investigate everything from the crash to Charlyís kidnapping. Hopefully, sheíd run back to her school group by now and at least one matter had sorted itself out. Maybe I was deluding myself, but I couldnít imagine her pressing charges against me. But she probably would press charges against the three young men who had tried to kill her, men whose names she now knew thanks to the fact that I had been completely out of my head. That was going to be a problem, one I was incapable of sorting out in the shape I was in.
Why had I turned on Jason Nigh?
Because you couldnít stand the sight of him after losing your shot at the Tag team titles?.
"I was on the verge of losing my mind,he was in love with Gwenivere jordan," I quietly corrected.
Believe whatever you want. The truth is that you wanted him to be as miserable as you felt, so you ruined any chance you might have had of becomming friends, by getting rid of the one of the many people who could have useful to you.
I found my feet and persuaded them to make contact with the carpeted floor, then paused to rest and let my head catch up and stop complaining. The hard part was going to be standing up. If I could make it that far, I was fairly certain I could talk my body into walking. I was wearing the same bloody clothes Iíd worn the night before, the same clothes Iíd worn for the past three days.
I reeked of alcohol and cigarette smoke and was in desperate need of a shower, but Iíd worry about that when I was more certain of my physical limitations. I didnít want to slip in the shower, crack my skull open and accidentally kill myself.
Why not? What does the method matter as long as you achieve the goal?
Yes, not having to listen to that voice was going to be an improvement. Iíd developed the split personality while working for Flame, my way of staying sane and keeping myself honest. It had also helped me hold my temper with a number of people who I otherwise would have killed. Over the years, though, my conscience had become a damned annoying separate entity.
I could feel every muscle in my body stretching as I raised myself to my feet, keeping one hand on the headboard for support. I stood unmoving for a moment, trying to get all of my senses to work with one another, then in rhythm with the rest of me. Mentally, I was falling apart; physically, I was tearing myself to pieces. I tried not to care, to suppress everything and focus on the handgun in Harry's stolen car. If I could get to my weapon, I could put myself out of my misery.
I slowly removed my hand from the headboard, thinking I finally had a handle on myself, only to stumble forward into the nightstand as soon as I thought I was capable of standing on my own. My arms managed to catch the weight my legs did not want to support, and I barely managed to keep from falling headfirst to the floor. What had happened to me? Iíd always been able to push myself for as far as I had to go as often as I had to go there. I hated myself for being so helpless.
I inched my way to the bedroom door like a toddler, having to hold onto everything within reach to keep myself from falling down. Holding onto the knob and turning it to get the door to open took me a few tries to master, and when I finally did get the door to open, I discovered I still had not regained my sense of direction. Iíd found the bathroom, not the hallway. By that point, I desperately needed to sit down, so I eased myself up onto the marble counter surrounding the sink, then kicked the door shut behind me.
I leaned back against the narrow sidewall that braced the counter, my forehead nearly touching the mirror. I stared into my eyes for a long time, wondering when the icy blue irises had turned into bottomless pits of nothing. There was a time when Iíd been happy. There were a lot of times when Iíd been happy. What had happened?
You killed a bunch of people, including your fiance and your friends, but you also know thatís nowhere near the whole story.
A flash of silver caught my eye and mercifully drew my attention away from the cold emptiness in my eyes. The straight-razor I used to shave with had half-fallen out of the travel bag Iíd left on the counter. I regarded it for a moment, thinking that I really did need a shave, then wondering why. I was going to be dead in a few minutes if I had my way, and if I had my way, an open-casket funeral was going to be out of the question. Why in the hell was I worried about shaving?
I leaned forward, my back feeling like it was being torn open with a bullwhip, and picked up the razor. I turned it over in my hands a few times without ever observing anything about it, then carefully opened the blade. Iíd always shaved my legs with a straight razor, one many bizarre things my father had insisted I learn. My doing so had always been regarded by others with a combination of jest and awe; something they couldnít believe I did, something none of them would consider doing, something they had to consequently make fun of. Iíd gotten more than a few joking comments that I was accidentally going to slash my throat one day.
I ran my fingers across the blade, drawing blood at the slightest touch. I was never going to make it to the car to retrieve my weapon, somebody would find me and call an ambulance. I was, however, alone in my suite with a "Do Not Disturb" sign on the door. I raised the blade to my neck and prepared to slice open my carotids.
So, this was what it felt like to be utterly mad. Iíd expected something different, and had spent so long looking for signs of stark raving insanity that Iíd failed to notice myself falling apart piece by piece as Iíd slowly given up hope. Iíd always expected to find myself screaming in a windowless, padded room--not in a hotel bathroom, a machete of a razor pressing against the skin of my neck. No, this definitely wasnít how Iíd expected to realize Iíd lost my mind.
I had, though, which meant Iíd lost a battle Iíd always known Iíd lose, but had fought against all of my life--the one battle Iíd wanted more than anything to win. Sane people didnít contemplate slashing their throats because the gun they always carried with them wasnít handy. Sane people didnít try to get through their lives by convincing themselves that they couldnít--didnít--care about anyone. Sane people didnít kill everyone around them.
Like their friends.
Like their family.
Like their wives, the mothers of their children.
While their children watched.
I could hear a girl, eight years old, screaming for her mother. I could see her in the arms of a very familliar man , kicking him and pounding him with her fists, her mocha curls flying wildly about her face as she struggled to break free. I could see her brown eyes, overflowing with tears, could see those same tears flowing down the fine cheekbones that had come from her mother. I could hear her words dissolving into hysterical screams. I could feel myself wanting more than anything to go to her, but unable to move, as though my feet had been imbedded in the concrete floor.
I could see the man knelt down in front of her, holding her as tightly as he dared, fearing that if he tightened his grip any more, heíd break her. I could see the look of utter shock on his face as he tried to keep her from seeing what she had already seen, could see him shaking his head as he searched for words that would never come.The man was the most articulate person I had ever known, and he couldnít find the words to express the surprise, or the betrayal, or the hatred. But I could see everything he wanted to say in his eyes, which were the most expressive I had ever seen on anyone.
I could see the broken glass and the blood as I looked from them to a woman right next to them. There were others around us, and I knew who they were,i knew who they all were, but I couldnít see them clearly. I saw where all of the blood had come from, saw the gaping hole in her chest, directly where her heart should have been. I saw her white gown stained crimson from the spaghetti straps around her shoulders to the tips of her satin shoes. Most of all, I saw her lifeless face looking up at me, her mouth still open from where she had pleaded for my help. Her dark eyes stared through mine and sent a shiver through the deepest depths of my soul.
I could see her head in the lap of The Man, could see him slumped against a wall. I could see a smeared trail of blood from where he had once been sitting upright but had slid sideways into the corner where the walls joined. I could see the blood on his dark jacket and on his white shirt. I could barely see his face because there was do damned much of it. The whites of his eyes shown red in the overhead lights, but his expression was slack. There had undoubtedly been the same kind of surprise that my friend holding the girl now expressed, but his features had gone slack the moment the bullet had entered his skull.
I could see myself standing over their bodies, covered in blood, my hands still wrapped around the grip of my pistol.