The Man!


Info:

SIN Role-Play Number: 43(43)
Current Match: Versus Zimdela Brudon ,Hardcore Title Match
Current Record: 6 wins -10 lossess -Draw 000
Pro Wrestling Achievements: Former Frontier Martials Arts Wrestling Champion

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!



Static.

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 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.


As Hardcore You claim your self to be,Zimdela you were'nt there on The night, The Era of ECW was born.

you arenít ECW. You never sweat and shed blood like many others for ECW. Tommy Dreamer,Mick Foley, Mikey Whipwreck, Rhino, Tajiri, Jerry LynnÖ Justin CredibleÖ men them and even though i never wrestled there myselfÖ we are ECW born, ECW Bred and when time comesÖ we will be ECW deadÖ.

That was Where it all began, ZimdelaÖ this is where it all began, back to the place which started it for meÖ I came in the man I grew up to be.

I have envisioned Impulse Zimdela, as though I was once again a new born. Laying in my crib watching the pretty mobile spinning above my head. This may be your match Zim but this is my vision. As the mobile spins around the child's crib decorated with fluffy bears and ducks, my crib is decorated with various objects.

Singapore Canes

Steel chains

Shredders and cooking utensils

And my favorite toy of all. The 2 x 4 wrapped in unforgiving barbwire. While the child's mobile is used to put the child to sleep, mine keeps my mind and my body wide, wide awake. You had no idea that your creation, your vision and house for pain and destruction would actually live up to the house of fun tag didn't you Zim. Fun for you it's always been because this is your baby. But for me now Zim, I am the baby that for once in it's life wants to enter the crib. That wants to sit and stare at the beautiful objects that hang above him. I want to play with the canes, the chains and the utensils. And I know you want to play too. I want to pull the 2x4 wrapped in barbwire from the wire hanging above and I want to show you first hand the Destruction.

The Devastation

The Ecstasy and the agony of having steel ripping into your flesh. I can hardly wait, I can hardly wait for the chance to show you Zim. To enjoy this play time with you Zim. You have pushed me beyond my wildest expectations and You awoken a monster and for this I thank you.
Charly sighed, wanting to change the subject but unsure of where to go. "My story sucks compared to yours," she said at last.

I should have been insulted, but I laughed--a short laugh because my lungs and my ribcage still hadnít forgotten that Iíd totaled a car the night before. "What is your story?"

"You sure youíre in any condition to hear this?" she asked. "Like I said, itís really kind of stupid."

I nodded, tucking my arm under my neck for support. I was almost comfortable, and Iíd spent my share of nights on floors a lot worse than this one.

"Iím up here on a class trip," she said, unsure of where to begin. "Iím in college, just finished my second year and um, my history professor got this tour lined up so we could come up here and see Civil War battlegrounds and museums and cultural stuff like that. So we got up here--to the city, I mean--and we got lost, but it was so late that we were kind of scared to try to get to where we needed to go. We pulled in at that hotel I took you to and decided to stay the night and head out in the morning. Me and some of my sorority sisters--the girls you met last night--decided to take advantage of the situation and check out some clubs, you know, to get a feel for big city night life. Weíre from a really small school in a really small town. We all grew up there together, and never really got the opportunity to get out all that much. We just wanted to see what it was like, you know?"

I nodded again when she paused for confirmation.

"Anyway, we snuck out of our room and wound up at this really kickiní club a few blocks down from the hotel, maybe half a mile or so. "

"Yeah!"

"So we met these three guys there, right? Good lookiní guys, nice guys. They bought us some drinks, we started grooviní on the dance floor, it was all pretty wild. We were having a blast--I mean, none of the clubs back home are anywhere near as cool as the ones up here. After a while, we told them we had to go back so we didnít get in trouble, and they got pissed. I mean pissed, pissed. Like weíre their girlfriends pissed, and weíd just met them an hour ago. So we left before things could get too out of hand, but as soon as we got outside, I realized Iíd left my purse sitting on the bar. Iíd forgot all about it cause I was so scared of what they were going to do to us, then I had to go right back inside and get it. Those guys were still in there, and they grabbed me and hauled me outside. Hannah and Gina were still waiting on me, and they panicked when they saw what was going on. I donít think those guys expected them to be waiting on me, cause they kind of freaked, too, since they werenít quite so outnumbered anymore. Gina and Hannah bolted, and in all the confusion I managed to get away. I ran like hell, thinking I was headed back to the hotel, but I got turned around--I never did have a good sense of direction. I just kept on running cause I didnít know what else to do. Then I saw your car and ran out in front it, hoping youíd stop and help me. I swear to God, I didnít mean for you to wreck."

"I wrecked because I was drunk, not because you ran out in front of me."

Her eyes widened at my admission. She wanted to say something admonishing but held her tongue. "Anyway, I guess you know the rest. So, who were they? Howíd you know them?"

"Your friends left you?" I asked, my mind having stalled on that part of the story.

"Yeah," she said looking away. "They were scared to death."

"Some fucking friends."

"They were scared," she repeated. "Anyway, they put you up, and we all could have gotten in trouble for that. Who were those guys?"

I tried to sit up. I felt like an invalid trying to explain myself while half-conscious on the floor. Iíd never coped well with being helpless, I was too much of a target. And Iíd never felt more vulnerable in my life. I couldnít escape the feeling that this girl--this underage, tactless, slightly ditzy girl held my life in her hands.

"I work for the military," I told her, too tired to try to formulate a lie, or recall the cover story Iíd used for the better part of fifteen years. "Those three men were some of our new recruits. They went AWOL a few weeks ago and I was assigned to find them. AWOL--"

"I know what it means," she softly interrupted. "Too many action films, remember? Whatís going to happen to them?"

I tried to smile, unsure of if I succeeded. "What do you care?"

Charly shrugged. "Honestly, not a hell of a lot right now. Iíd still like to know."

"Theyíll be court-marshaled for leaving and attacking you. Theyíll probably be discharged. After that, I donít know. Why would you have gotten thrown out of school?"

She sighed, looking very much like a teenager who had gotten into a tremendous amount of trouble. "I got about half-lit thanks to my sisterís ID, since Iím not old enough to get lit on my own. If the school had found out I was drinking, they would have dropped me without a backward glance. Plus, I couldíve gotten arrested." She lowered her eyes to meet mine and waited on me to say something. "Like I said," she continued when I remained silent, "my story sucks compared to yours." Unconsciously, she began playing with a strand of her hair, twirling it around her fingers. Her eyes roamed the room, occasionally coming back to me.

"What?" I asked.

She sighed, her lips trying to ask the question several times before she could convince herself to do it. "Were you trying to kill yourself last night?"

"Iíve been trying to kill myself for some time now."

"You really want to do it?"

I nodded.

"So, why havenít you used that gun of yours?"

Because youíre a coward, the voice in my mind answered. "Where is my gun?" I asked, because I was too much of a coward to admit as much.

"Itís wrapped up in your jacket on the couch. If youíre so determined to kill yourself, why havenít you blown your head off?"

"I was going to just now," I admitted, "until I realized I didnít know where it is."

She regarded me for a moment, a strange expression on her face somewhere between disgust and bewilderment. "If you want me to, Iíll go in there and get it for you and let you finish the job."

"Are you serious?" I asked, the only question I could come up with as my mind considered leaving me again. I knew I hadnít been the best of hosts and had bordered on downright abusive, but I didnít think Iíd been terrible enough for her to want me dead.

She shrugged. "Yeah, I guess so. I mean, Iíd be traumatized for life, but if it would make you happy, sure, why not? You want it?" She made no move to get up. I realized that she was challenging me, though I was not sure what to do with that information. I did not reply, probably the smartest thing I could have done, since I wasnít sure what I was thinking or where I stood with myself.

"What happened a year ago to make you want to kill yourself?"

I shook my head, the carpet rubbing against my cheek starting to become painful.

"Was it worse than your wife getting killed?"

I wanted to say no, but what came out was "Iím not sure." Losing my wife, and as a result of that loss, my daughter, was the most painful thing that had ever or probably would ever happen to me. But if my life had turned out the way it was supposed to, I never would have met Toni, gone to work at my present position in the "murder for hire in the name of the common good business", become a closet alcoholic who wasnít very good at keeping his addiction a secret, or met Carly.

I couldnít raise my eyes to look at her, and focused instead on the bloodstained towel in my still numb hand. The towel was nowhere near as red as it should have been. I wondered if it was because the cut was clotting or Iíd finally lost all the blood in my body. With my luck, Iíd probably be able to survive that kind of loss. "I was a spoiled brat and my parents died because of it."

"How?"

"You ask too many questions and have no understanding of tact."

"I know," she answered simply.

"What do you care?" I asked again. Why should she?

"Iím curious, and I think you need to talk about it."

"Youíre not my therapist," I reminded coldly. "Even if I had one, it wouldnít be you."

"Youíre a hateful bastard when you donít set our mind to it," she snapped, her sudden anger surprising me. "Itís a shame, too, cause I get the feeling youíre a really nice guy when youíre not making a complete ass out of yourself."

"Iím sorry," I said, closing my eyes.

"So you keep saying. Personally, I think youíre acting like a jerk because of the sympathy youíre getting out of it; so you can have people say poor little Sid, look at all the shit heís been through, weíd better cut him some slack. You keep blaming the world for your problems so you donít have to face them or, God forbid, open yourself up to those vulnerabilities and try to make an actual friend. Iím going out of my way to be nice to you here, in case you havenít noticed. I stayed here all damn night in case you decided you needed to go to the hospital because I couldnít stand the thought of leaving you alone and having something happening to you, but you are so not worth my effort. The world doesnít owe you anything, sweetheart, so get used to it."

"Get my gun," I ordered.

Why?" she demanded. "Youíre not going to use it."

"How the bloody hell would you know?"

"You donít want to die," she told me very matter-of-factly. "You just donít know what the hell else to do. You figure if you hang on to all that guilt youíre carrying around, eventually itíll win out, but you donít want to die."

"Why donít I?" I asked, because she was going to tell me regardless of whether I wanted to hear. The problem was, I did want to hear. Too damned much of what she was saying was making too damned much sense.

"If you didnít want to die, you would have let those guys kill you last night. That way you could have died nobly in the line of duty instead of blowing your head off in a hotel bathroom. If you wanted to die so badly, you wouldnít have given a damn about what happened to me. People who really want to die have a tendency not to give a damn about anything."

"What are you, a psychology major?" I asked sarcastically.

She smiled wickedly. "Actually, yes, I am, with a minor in communication; which means that, tactless as I am, I still know how to control a conversation. So, tell me, what is it about living thatís so hard?"

"You have no idea what Iíve lived through," I replied, utterly exhausted.

"Youíve lived through it," she said in a tone that was both fury and compassion, the kind of tone people used when they were desperate to get through to you. "And if youíve survived this far, whatís so scary about the future?"

I would have cried again, but there wasnít anything left in me. "People die because of me. Itíll happen again."

"What makes you so sure?"

"Itís been like that all my life."

"I donít mean what makes you so sure it will happen again," she corrected, "I mean, what makes you so sure it was your fault?"

"It was."

"Because you were close to them and they died?"

"Yes."

"Have you ever stopped to think that maybe youíre not the only person in this world whoís lost somebody they loved?"

I shook my head. "You donít understand."

"Then make me," she challenged. "This whole thing you have started three years ago. Tell me why."

"I was thirteen," I said, surprised by how much I wanted to tell her. "It was my birthday. I wanted a car, all kids want cars for their birthday, but I fucking wanted this car. I was rich, Iíd gotten everything Iíd ever wanted in my life, and I was convinced my world was going to end if I didnít get that bloody car. I had to have something that was newer and nicer than what my friends drove because I had a title in front of my name and they didnít, and that made me better than them. My parents went out the morning of my birthday to buy me a brand new, speed-trap red Ferrari right off the showroom lot. They were going to surprise me with it, have it sitting in the drive when I woke up, but I knew what they were doing and got up early to wait for them to come home with it."

I waited on her to say something. She had to say something. I needed something to cling to, even if it was only another of her tactless questions. I was telling her things Iíd never wanted to tell anybody, and I could not stand the silence closing in around me, threatening to suffocate me.

"Say something," I pleaded when she stayed silent.

"Itís your story."

"I donít care. Say something."

"What happened to your parents?"

"my father was supposedly killed on his way to home. It was one of those things that happened for no real reason.

"That doesnít make it your fault," Charly said, completely at a loss for anything else to say.

"It does. Indirectly. Thatís how it always is.

If I hadnít had to have a car that was nicer than everybody elseís, my father was alive and would still be if it i did'nt fail him. If I hadnít insisted on getting married in Vancouver, my wife and my best friend would still be alive. If Iíd done a thousand different things, a lot of the people Iíve worked with over the years wouldnít be dead. I left home right after Flame and never went back. I donít even know where my cousins are, or what theyíre doing, or if theyíre alive at all. I donít know how my little girlís done this year in school. I donít know if she misses me, or remembers me, or gives a damn about me one way or the other. And it hurts. It fucking hurts. And itís gonna happen again."

The saddest expression overcame her face. "And in the meantime, youíre never going to know what itís like to let go and allow someone to care about you. Youíre too sacred theyíll get hurt, which means youíll get hurt, too. But thatís life, you know?"

"Youíre twenty eight years old," I said. "What do you know about anything?"

"Enough to make you uncomfortable."

I couldnít argue with her. Everything sheíd told me was the truth, and Iíd always known as much. I justified it by telling myself it was a survival tactic, that I was barricading myself to save everyone around me. I didnít want to lose anyone else because it would kill me, and I didnít want to die, as much as I desperately wanted to convince myself otherwise.

Charly reached out, trying to take my injured hand in hers. As her fingers softly closed around mine, I cried out in agony, jerking free.

"Oh, God!" she exclaimed, jumping back. "I am so sorry. I didnít even realize--"

I lost the rest of what she said as the pain shot up my entire arm. It took what felt like an eternity to subside. When it receded enough for me to get past it, there I was overcome by a wave of confusion. "Thatís strange," I said.

"What is?" Charly asked, trying to recover from her shock at hurting me so badly while still trying to come up with a suitable apology.

"It hurts like hell."

You sound ridiculous.

The return of the voice from hell.

"Whatís so weird about that?" she asked. "You sliced it open a few minutes ago, remember?"

"Thatís not it." I flexed my fingers, smiling in spite of--because of--the incredible pain. Iíd been shot before, multiple times, but the pain in my hand was stronger than most of the gunshot wounds I had ever received.

"You probably hit a nerve or something--"

"Thatís not what I mean," I said as I began to laugh. I must have sounded like a maniac, telling her everything Iíd told her, having a complete breakdown, then turning into an insane, laughing idiot the next moment. She regarded me in silence, wondering if I was losing my mind, unsure of how to ask me if I was, or if I cared. I kept laughing, feeling crazier by the second but more sane than I had in years, feeling things I hadnít allowed myself to feel in so long that I had nearly forgotten what they were. This girl who didnít know anything about me and had no reason to care was sitting here, listening to my problems, doing everything she could to convince me that life would get better, Iíd done nothing but treat her terribly. She cared.

About me.

In that moment, Iíd never loved anyone more in my life.

"What?" she asked, sensing the question before I had a chance to formulate it. I knew better than to ask. Asking would change her life for the worst, and quite possibly get both of us killed. But it had been a long time since anything--anyone--in my life had felt so right, and I didnít want to give that feeling up for anything in the world.

"Come with me," I said.

"Where?" She already knew, but was still surprised I asked.

"To my base of operations."

"Why?" She already had her mind made up.

"To answer some questions, make a positive ID on the men who attacked you last night. Iíll need your testimony. Itíll take a few days."

She smiled one of the broadest smiles Iíd ever seen. "When do we leave?"

I would have told her the sooner, the better, since I was completely out of my head and would change my mind about taking her with me the moment I came back to my senses, but a sharp, insistent knock on the door cut short my reply. I groaned, wondering how anyone could have missed the sign on the door. Charly, mistaking my annoyance for pain, sprung to her feet. "Should I get it?" she asked.

"I suppose youíd better, though Iíd rather we pretend like no one was home."

She smiled down at me. "Iíll get rid of them."

She could do it, too, I had no doubt. Then I heard Jason Nigh exclaim, "who in the hell are you," and knew there would be no peace in the immediate future. Then I heard my girlfriend say, "you must be the wife," and wondered if I could get to the straight-razor before any of them could get to me.

I got as far as sitting up before the three of them swamped the bedroom, Charly, to her credit, insisting that I didnít need any company right now. Jason was first, though he kept looking over his shoulder at Charly and Trinity, as the twowomen who trailed him. Heíd dressed down for the visit, wearing faded denims, a black shirt with a slightly metallic sheen and a pair of broken-in cowboy boots that could only come from Texas or Australia.

"Sid i want a word with You concerning last week," he said the moment he saw me. "And just Who the hell is that girl?"