Post by Eno Redrum on Nov 18, 2009 0:29:22 GMT -5
Suddenly, a loud gunshot rang through the air and slammed into the sandy ground between both soldiers. Swearing in disgust, Eno turned around and saw three men jabbing submachine guns at them. All three wore black berets with the emblem of a sword across an ace of spades. Eno turned to Dimitri and gave him a look that asked, “Are these your Global Risk dogs?”
To his surprise, he heard the man in the middle yell, “take both men down!”
Immediately, both men spun away from their line of fire and disappeared into the many winding alleyways of the slums of Cuba.
“Who are those bastards?” asked Eno as he jabbed Dimitri in his shoulder hollow forcefully. Dimitri pushed his hand away.
“I don’t know them alright? They ain’t Global Risk and they sure ain’t your Black List dogs. I’m guessing they’re just another new organization,” said Dimitri as he knocked on a wooden door.
It swung open soon revealing a rugged face staring back at them. The man was tall, well-built and had a tattoo of the Spetznaz special forces on his left bicep. He was a Russian then, thought Eno as the man beckoned them in. When Eno stepped into the small house, he was awed by what he saw. Every nook and cranny was stuffed with an automatic rifle, a submachine gun, a pistol or an anti-material weapon. There was practically enough firepower and ammunition in that house to wage war on a small country. The Russian beckoned for them to sit down around a stone table. At first, he conversed in Russian with Dimitri but after a short while, he changed effortlessly into English.
“My name’s Trotsky. I served as a Staff Sergeant in the First Russian Shock Army. Every weapon you see here I have managed to smuggle from every ammunition dump you care to name. Whatever you need, I can supply. Free, if you’re Russian. For a fee if you’re not,” drawled Trotsky as he picked up an AN-94 assault rifle and fingered it tenderly. Dimitri pulled out a piece of parchment from his pocket and placed it on the table. Snatching a pen from a nearby desk, he drew the symbol of the sword across the ace of spades and handed it to Trotsky.
“You recognize this, comrade?” asked Dimitri as he stared intently at Trotsky’s face. Immediately, Trotsky groaned and put a hand on his face.
“You’re in very deep shit my friends. This here is the mark of Easy Win, a major player in biochemical terrorism. They have a base established in this entire part of Cuba. If they’re after your ass, it means you’ll be against a few thousand soldiers,” muttered Trotsky. As soon as he finished his words, his ears pricked up immediately and he looked out of a small hole he called a window.
“Damn, Easy has sent quite a number of their dogs here. Dimitri, get your American friend and grab as much weapons and ammunitions as you can here. Make it fast!” shouted Trotsky as he dashed over to a few gas tanks and broke the tips off. A slight hissing was heard as the flammable gas filled the entire room. Then, running over to an ancient-looking toaster, he turned it on and stuffed a wad of newspaper in it. Then, grabbing an RPG-7 and an AN-94 assault rifle, he headed out the back door. Dimitri and Eno followed him out after a short while. After a few minutes of running, a huge explosion was heard as the gas went off. With all the explosives in the little hut, it came as little surprise when all three witnessed a huge fist of flame punch its way out into the sky.
Trotsky sat down on a slab of rock and looked at both men.
“Guys, you have to get off this spit of land immediately. Easy is not going to let you off that easily, not after you took out their runners. Take my advice and head to mainland Cuba. I have Spetznaz friends there who will take care of you people. Remember, Easy does not care about anything except cash. That is how deadly they are,” warned Trotsky as he handed the RPG-7 to Dimitri, “good luck.”
Both Eno and Dimitri nodded their head and walked away.
“Easy thugs, three o’clock,” said Eno as both men backed into a two storey building. It was dark in the building and thus it concealed them well. A few moments later, three Easy Win soldiers wielding AK-47 carbines walked past. One of them was smoking. Eno let out a sigh of relief and beckoned for Dimitri to move to the second storey.
From what both Eno and Dimitri had discovered, this part of Cuba was totally controlled by Easy Win. Nobody could get on and off the docks without Easy Win knowing.
Their options had slowly thinned out to the extent that both men had decided to hit Easy Win at the docks. With the help of Trotsky, or rather, Trotsky’s Spetznaz friends, they had made up a crude but nevertheless effective plan of attack. Hit and run, that was the strategy.
“Wait for the red smoke,” reminded Dimitri as Eno steadied the RPG-7 against his shoulder. He had targeted a machine gun outpost near the docks.
Suddenly, a short distance away, red smoke started rising to the air. That was the cue. Immediately, Eno fired a missile and the machine gunner, blowing up both gun and gunner. After the explosion, hell broke loose.
A few assault rifles started chattering at the Easy Win soldiers in the open. Occasionally, Trotsky’s men fired RPGs at the Easy Win soldiers, taking them out in force.
“Dimitri! Eno! Get your asses on any boat you find! We’ll cover you!” shouted Trotsky through a fairly new radio at the two men.
Immediately, both men ran for a motor boat docked near them. Just as they got onboard, a Black Hawk gunship bearing the mark of Easy Win appeared out of the horizon. The mini-gun on board started spinning and soon it was emptying rounds into the Russian men. Eno slotted another RPG shell into the tube and took aim. When he fired, his aim was true and the entire metal bird spun away into the distance and crashed. By the time Easy Win could converge on the speed boat, the two men had left with nothing but a bloodbath in their wake.
We stand here on the threshold of Devil's Dance. A night that will go down as one of the greatest nights in TWD history. A night when a new champion will be crowned and a night that five of the marquee names in the TWD will all sets their sights on the same prize. But only one of us can walk away that night as Champion. And I plan on being that person.
For almost a solid year I reigned as the very first TWD Champion, the highlight of my wrestling career. I put everything I had into that reign only to watch it be tarnished by the greed and corruption of Kingpin and JENT. But then again, I was as much to blame as Kingpin and Marcus because it was all three of us that built JENT into the monster it was. I was just the first one to want to correct it.
"We're takers! That's what we do, we take!" Marcus' words still ring loud in my ears. We took what we wanted whenever we wanted and no one was going to stop us. Marcus the Hustler had a vision and that vision required that we walk on the backs of everyone who stood in our way and break those backs if need be in the process.
"Bet big. That's the only way to go." Kingpin knew that if we were going to achieve the greatness that he and Marcus envisioned then it was going to take some big gambles on our part to make it happen.
Say what you want about those two, but they did have a keen sense of direction and knew what it would take to get there. Like Lucky Luciano, Kingpin now lives in exile and penniless. Like Bugsy Siegel, Marcus let his ego get the best of him and could very well end up with a bullet in his head.
That just leaves me, the Meyer Lansky of the group. The money man if you will. The one who, in the end, established his empire all along the Eastern Seaboard as well as Vegas and Cuba. A man that while the other two claimed the spotlight, secretly established a bigger empire then they could have ever imagined. A man, that in the end, lived life by his standards and died peacefully in his sleep in the very end.
So Luciano and Siegel are both long gone and now Lansky is left to build his empire. But this empire will eb something far different and greater than that of JENT. True it will carry the same name, I mean let's face it, that name means revenue no matter how you slice it. However, this time around, the name JENT will stand for much more than it did in the past.
No longer will it be associated with crime, corruption and greed. Instead it will stand in comparison to such words as compassion, community and graciousness. JENT will be a pillar in both the wrestling community and the communities in which we travel to and live. It will a name that people will no longer fear, but feel they can turn to in their darkest hour and seek shelter and comfort.
And all that starts right here, very soon at Devil's Dance. When I again am crowned the TWD Champion.
My legacy and the legacy of JENT in this business will not be judged by those actions in the past, but rather by what we do from this day forth. I have learned that in life there are no accidents. There are only the things we do and what those things do to other people. My actions will only bring about hope to the unfortunate and help to inspire those that are struggling. That is why I am dedicating this epic struggle I face at Devil's Dance to those out there looking for some sort of light at the end of the tunnel.
I want them to look at the battle I have to endure and know that if I can achieve greatness against these types of odds then they too can overcome that which keeps them shackled down. Because in the end, we all need hope. We all struggle with our own personal demons and tribulations.
I mean if I can take on and overcome the likes of such great veterans as Krenshaw and Filipe as well as rise above such great newcomers as Saber and Colt Crawford and ascend to the title of TWD Champion again, then there is nothing anyone in the world can't do if they set their mind to it. I want the world to know that the American Dream is alive and well and is not just some pipe dream fairy tale we tell our kids to make them feel better about the current situation and circumstances we live in today.
Someone once asked me once, "How do you live if you are ruled by your past and how do you let go of the past that made you?"
I thought about that for a long time and finally came to this conclusion. People may judge you by your past but you are not ruled by it nor does it make you. Our past is just one chapter in our lives and our lives are constantly changing. It is your actions in the here and now that people see and take to heart. They may not accept the new you right away, but if you stay true to your heart and the path you have set out upon, then eventually people will see the person you are becoming and start to accept you. Slowly they will let go of your past and judge you by your current actions.
This is what I am asking of the fans and my fellow TWD members. Give me the chance to show you that I have changed. That I have learned from the error of my ways and I am not the monster that Kingpin and Marcus created and manipulated when we first arrived here in the TWD. I am a man who has made mistakes in the past, but now seek to find redemption and forgiveness. Hopefully I can one day be seen as honest and sincere in your eyes. Until that day, I will strive for nothing else.
To his surprise, he heard the man in the middle yell, “take both men down!”
Immediately, both men spun away from their line of fire and disappeared into the many winding alleyways of the slums of Cuba.
“Who are those bastards?” asked Eno as he jabbed Dimitri in his shoulder hollow forcefully. Dimitri pushed his hand away.
“I don’t know them alright? They ain’t Global Risk and they sure ain’t your Black List dogs. I’m guessing they’re just another new organization,” said Dimitri as he knocked on a wooden door.
It swung open soon revealing a rugged face staring back at them. The man was tall, well-built and had a tattoo of the Spetznaz special forces on his left bicep. He was a Russian then, thought Eno as the man beckoned them in. When Eno stepped into the small house, he was awed by what he saw. Every nook and cranny was stuffed with an automatic rifle, a submachine gun, a pistol or an anti-material weapon. There was practically enough firepower and ammunition in that house to wage war on a small country. The Russian beckoned for them to sit down around a stone table. At first, he conversed in Russian with Dimitri but after a short while, he changed effortlessly into English.
“My name’s Trotsky. I served as a Staff Sergeant in the First Russian Shock Army. Every weapon you see here I have managed to smuggle from every ammunition dump you care to name. Whatever you need, I can supply. Free, if you’re Russian. For a fee if you’re not,” drawled Trotsky as he picked up an AN-94 assault rifle and fingered it tenderly. Dimitri pulled out a piece of parchment from his pocket and placed it on the table. Snatching a pen from a nearby desk, he drew the symbol of the sword across the ace of spades and handed it to Trotsky.
“You recognize this, comrade?” asked Dimitri as he stared intently at Trotsky’s face. Immediately, Trotsky groaned and put a hand on his face.
“You’re in very deep shit my friends. This here is the mark of Easy Win, a major player in biochemical terrorism. They have a base established in this entire part of Cuba. If they’re after your ass, it means you’ll be against a few thousand soldiers,” muttered Trotsky. As soon as he finished his words, his ears pricked up immediately and he looked out of a small hole he called a window.
“Damn, Easy has sent quite a number of their dogs here. Dimitri, get your American friend and grab as much weapons and ammunitions as you can here. Make it fast!” shouted Trotsky as he dashed over to a few gas tanks and broke the tips off. A slight hissing was heard as the flammable gas filled the entire room. Then, running over to an ancient-looking toaster, he turned it on and stuffed a wad of newspaper in it. Then, grabbing an RPG-7 and an AN-94 assault rifle, he headed out the back door. Dimitri and Eno followed him out after a short while. After a few minutes of running, a huge explosion was heard as the gas went off. With all the explosives in the little hut, it came as little surprise when all three witnessed a huge fist of flame punch its way out into the sky.
Trotsky sat down on a slab of rock and looked at both men.
“Guys, you have to get off this spit of land immediately. Easy is not going to let you off that easily, not after you took out their runners. Take my advice and head to mainland Cuba. I have Spetznaz friends there who will take care of you people. Remember, Easy does not care about anything except cash. That is how deadly they are,” warned Trotsky as he handed the RPG-7 to Dimitri, “good luck.”
Both Eno and Dimitri nodded their head and walked away.
“Easy thugs, three o’clock,” said Eno as both men backed into a two storey building. It was dark in the building and thus it concealed them well. A few moments later, three Easy Win soldiers wielding AK-47 carbines walked past. One of them was smoking. Eno let out a sigh of relief and beckoned for Dimitri to move to the second storey.
From what both Eno and Dimitri had discovered, this part of Cuba was totally controlled by Easy Win. Nobody could get on and off the docks without Easy Win knowing.
Their options had slowly thinned out to the extent that both men had decided to hit Easy Win at the docks. With the help of Trotsky, or rather, Trotsky’s Spetznaz friends, they had made up a crude but nevertheless effective plan of attack. Hit and run, that was the strategy.
“Wait for the red smoke,” reminded Dimitri as Eno steadied the RPG-7 against his shoulder. He had targeted a machine gun outpost near the docks.
Suddenly, a short distance away, red smoke started rising to the air. That was the cue. Immediately, Eno fired a missile and the machine gunner, blowing up both gun and gunner. After the explosion, hell broke loose.
A few assault rifles started chattering at the Easy Win soldiers in the open. Occasionally, Trotsky’s men fired RPGs at the Easy Win soldiers, taking them out in force.
“Dimitri! Eno! Get your asses on any boat you find! We’ll cover you!” shouted Trotsky through a fairly new radio at the two men.
Immediately, both men ran for a motor boat docked near them. Just as they got onboard, a Black Hawk gunship bearing the mark of Easy Win appeared out of the horizon. The mini-gun on board started spinning and soon it was emptying rounds into the Russian men. Eno slotted another RPG shell into the tube and took aim. When he fired, his aim was true and the entire metal bird spun away into the distance and crashed. By the time Easy Win could converge on the speed boat, the two men had left with nothing but a bloodbath in their wake.
TO BE CONTINUED
We stand here on the threshold of Devil's Dance. A night that will go down as one of the greatest nights in TWD history. A night when a new champion will be crowned and a night that five of the marquee names in the TWD will all sets their sights on the same prize. But only one of us can walk away that night as Champion. And I plan on being that person.
For almost a solid year I reigned as the very first TWD Champion, the highlight of my wrestling career. I put everything I had into that reign only to watch it be tarnished by the greed and corruption of Kingpin and JENT. But then again, I was as much to blame as Kingpin and Marcus because it was all three of us that built JENT into the monster it was. I was just the first one to want to correct it.
"We're takers! That's what we do, we take!" Marcus' words still ring loud in my ears. We took what we wanted whenever we wanted and no one was going to stop us. Marcus the Hustler had a vision and that vision required that we walk on the backs of everyone who stood in our way and break those backs if need be in the process.
"Bet big. That's the only way to go." Kingpin knew that if we were going to achieve the greatness that he and Marcus envisioned then it was going to take some big gambles on our part to make it happen.
Say what you want about those two, but they did have a keen sense of direction and knew what it would take to get there. Like Lucky Luciano, Kingpin now lives in exile and penniless. Like Bugsy Siegel, Marcus let his ego get the best of him and could very well end up with a bullet in his head.
That just leaves me, the Meyer Lansky of the group. The money man if you will. The one who, in the end, established his empire all along the Eastern Seaboard as well as Vegas and Cuba. A man that while the other two claimed the spotlight, secretly established a bigger empire then they could have ever imagined. A man, that in the end, lived life by his standards and died peacefully in his sleep in the very end.
So Luciano and Siegel are both long gone and now Lansky is left to build his empire. But this empire will eb something far different and greater than that of JENT. True it will carry the same name, I mean let's face it, that name means revenue no matter how you slice it. However, this time around, the name JENT will stand for much more than it did in the past.
No longer will it be associated with crime, corruption and greed. Instead it will stand in comparison to such words as compassion, community and graciousness. JENT will be a pillar in both the wrestling community and the communities in which we travel to and live. It will a name that people will no longer fear, but feel they can turn to in their darkest hour and seek shelter and comfort.
And all that starts right here, very soon at Devil's Dance. When I again am crowned the TWD Champion.
My legacy and the legacy of JENT in this business will not be judged by those actions in the past, but rather by what we do from this day forth. I have learned that in life there are no accidents. There are only the things we do and what those things do to other people. My actions will only bring about hope to the unfortunate and help to inspire those that are struggling. That is why I am dedicating this epic struggle I face at Devil's Dance to those out there looking for some sort of light at the end of the tunnel.
I want them to look at the battle I have to endure and know that if I can achieve greatness against these types of odds then they too can overcome that which keeps them shackled down. Because in the end, we all need hope. We all struggle with our own personal demons and tribulations.
I mean if I can take on and overcome the likes of such great veterans as Krenshaw and Filipe as well as rise above such great newcomers as Saber and Colt Crawford and ascend to the title of TWD Champion again, then there is nothing anyone in the world can't do if they set their mind to it. I want the world to know that the American Dream is alive and well and is not just some pipe dream fairy tale we tell our kids to make them feel better about the current situation and circumstances we live in today.
Someone once asked me once, "How do you live if you are ruled by your past and how do you let go of the past that made you?"
I thought about that for a long time and finally came to this conclusion. People may judge you by your past but you are not ruled by it nor does it make you. Our past is just one chapter in our lives and our lives are constantly changing. It is your actions in the here and now that people see and take to heart. They may not accept the new you right away, but if you stay true to your heart and the path you have set out upon, then eventually people will see the person you are becoming and start to accept you. Slowly they will let go of your past and judge you by your current actions.
This is what I am asking of the fans and my fellow TWD members. Give me the chance to show you that I have changed. That I have learned from the error of my ways and I am not the monster that Kingpin and Marcus created and manipulated when we first arrived here in the TWD. I am a man who has made mistakes in the past, but now seek to find redemption and forgiveness. Hopefully I can one day be seen as honest and sincere in your eyes. Until that day, I will strive for nothing else.
