...And the Revolution Will Continue

...And the Revolution Will Continue is an e-wrestling promo written by MC Steel on September 22, 2010 as part his book Living on the Straight Edge. It is for a 10-Man Elimination Tag where Steel teamed with Blackwell, Son of Shockey, Richard Michaels and Dick Dynamo, representing Insanity, against Killswitch, Haemoglobin, Atlas Adams, Big B. Brown and Ian Oberon, representing Pyromania. The promo was for the Altered Reality V telecast.

Promo
 "I rise up, not like a phoenix, but like the zombie corpse of Dick Murdoch." – CM Punk

The flight hadn’t been too long, and with several days before the Altered Reality, I had more then enough time to tie up some loose ends that had long been overdue my attention. I travelled lightly, carrying only a rucksack with a change of clothes along with a few things I would need for where I was headed. I was supposed to still be in Toronto to prepare with Rich and Dick for the match, but it could wait. By the time my flight arrived at my destination, it was early in the morning. I should have got some sleep on the plane, but it was hard to do so when I sat brooding over old ghosts that should have long been removed. It was time to make amends, I would need to do so if I wanted to keep a clear head when I went up against the best of them at Altered Reality.

Passing through security, I gathered my things, clad casually in a thick jacket as finger cut gloves covered my hands to take off the chill of the autumn winds. I was no more presentable than usual, with an unkempt haircut and jeans I usually donned. I wouldn’t be in this city for long, as it happened my departing flight was some time tonight, a flight to the fifth annual Altered Reality. Outside the sun had taken grace, creating an unusually peaceful vibe I took little comfort in. A light breeze was welcoming however when it brushed by, a much better environment than the confines of the cabin I spent a few hours in whilst it flew amongst the clouds. I appreciated it only for a moment, before moving on.

People passed too and fro outside the airport, carrying luggage and moving around, all faceless and unimportant to me, that was until one particular group caught my eye as I passed. I caught a glimpse of a father leading a happy son along with a large suitcase trailing behind them. He cracked a joke which had the two smiling and laughing, before they met up with a dark haired woman who seemed just as pleased to meet them. I half resented them in their happiness, I half pitied them from means I couldn’t explain. The small boy had everything I did not, yet also lacked qualities I took self pride in. Adjusting my rucksack I no longer lingered, knowing I needed transportation to get where I needed to be. A long row of taxis are spread out just before me, capitalizing on the new arrivals from the airport.

Naturally, I chose the closest one available which held point of the line, though I had wished I had stopped to actually observe the vehicle before I entered. A faint grey vapour hung in the air when I entered the back of the taxi, as a black foreign man sat with one arm slung from the window with a white roll tucked between his index and middle finger, letting a small tendril of smoke escape from its burning edge. His clothes were colourful to say the least, having just about every colour of the rainbow in the poncho that hung from his shoulders along with the beanie that covered jet black curly hair. I was in a right mind to leave the taxi before I noticed his white eyes staring at me through the rear view mirror, as if he was blind. It made me frown as I met his eyes with my own cautious stare. “So where to then?!”

A blank emerald stare was my initial answer as I glared at the foreign taxi driver. “Lincoln Ridge,” I said in a soft rough voice. I didn’t want to talk. The driver frowned in bewilderment as he examined it, before he shot a condescending glare of his own back at me. “Ya’ sure ya’ wanna’ be headin’ there?”

I held the piercing gaze, a silence falling within the taxi that. A steady stream of smoke poured from the mouth as they slowly parted, darkening the taxi in a grey shade. The smoke stung my eyes, forcing me to wince as I waved a finger cut gloved hand at the smoke to keep it away. It triggered a bellowing laughter from the driver as a few entrails of smoke escaped from his nose to merge with the cloud around him. “Ya’ look familiar. Hav’ I seen ya’ before?

I kept my glare, unflinching since the smoke troubled my eyes. “Lincoln Ridge, please.” I had a place I needed to be, and this man was fast testing my patience. It seemed to prompt another small amount of laughter, deep from the stomach of the driver who smiled to show off his golden teeth. “Let’s go then.”

The drive was a lengthy one, I recalled it being so all those years ago when Aaron used to take me here. Peering through the window as I passed by in the taxi, I noticed the area was more run down now then when I used to frequent the place. Shops had shut down, windows were replaced by steel shutters, what windows and doors were not coated in steel had been kicked in, revealing old buildings that had long been left abandoned and completely ransacked of any valuables. It used to be an undesirable dive when Aaron and I ventured here, but it was never this bad. Mostly homeless bums and drunks littered the streets in this downtown area, just as common in number as the trash upon the ground that blew aimlessly in the mild winds. It seemed the area had finally caved in on itself, whilst twenty minutes up the road, the town thrived. Not even the gangs were present anymore down here, probably having moved on since there was nothing left to steal here or terrorize. The place was dead.

I recognised very few places; I couldn’t determine whether that was due to my memory not being what it was, or whether the place had changed so much. A few cars were present on the roads, merely passing through the dead space. Only one of the cars was here to make a stop, and I rode as a passenger in that car. The taxi slowly took a right turn, into a derelict car park. I knew this area at least; I knew where I was even before golden teeth decided to declare their arrival. “We be here. That’ll be $50. Ay’ might be around if ya’ need a ride back yeah.”

I could see the glaring white eyes in the rear view mirror of the driver, and sensed that horrible golden smile was just beyond my sight. Reluctantly I pulled out a leather wallet. I paid the debt, gathered my rucksack before leaving the smoky taxi and golden teeth to his own devices. I could still hear him laughing when I walked into the cold chill of the street, and before long I could hear him driving away. I was alone again. I walked through the car park in the dying hours of the morning towards an old building I hadn’t seen in over a decade. It was a quaint building, no more then two stories high, making it seem out of place amongst all the taller and run down flats that surrounded it. Over ten years ago the place was always out of place given its small size, but it was well maintained. Now it was nothing more then another husk in the ghost town.

Windows had been bordered up, the door under lock and chain as rust had long developed along the cold steel links. Only segments of glass remained on the borders of the windows were they had been smashed up over the years, leaving sight the wooden boards beyond that concealed view of the inside of the building. To the side of the main door, I noticed a small plaque as I approached with curiosity. Staring past an unkempt fringe, I noticed that the plaque read out a small dedication.

''“In loving memory of Mitchell Gray. May his legacy live on forever. 1953 - 2002.”''

I felt something when I read it, it wasn’t much, but I felt a small amount of remorse for a man that held heavy influence on what I believe in today. I slid a hand carefully over the plaque, my face unmoving. It was then I pulled my rucksack in front of me, pulling out a heavy set of cable cutters. Seeing the links baring the door had become so rusted, I only had to strike down a few times with the heavy object before one of the links snapped, causing the chain to flail to the side before the lock collapsed against the ground. Another heavy strike later, and the lock was demolished on the aging door, allowing me to boot it open. Inside it was almost as black as pitch beyond the small amount of light that entered through the door. The stretch of light from the sun cast my shadow amongst the void as I stood as nothing more then a black shape peering in. A tap later upon the light switch, and dim lights began to flicker to life.

Seconds passed before one of the lights let out a loud pop before dying, yet the rest seemed to finally break the boundary between life and death, shedding a half decent light on a once dead and uninhabited area. “I can’t believe its all still here.” The whole room in front of me was covered in dust. 3 wrestling rings occupied the majority of it. I climbed into the one closest to me bounced off the ropes a few times. It reminded me…

--

It was a beautiful day in the summer of 2000, but I was inside with Mitchell. I was 20 years old. I remember I had just come back from England. One of their top promotions was giving me a tryout after Mitchell sent in a tape of me. But they rejected me. Mitchell had a video of my in-ring promo, and he was showing it to all the young hopefuls. The television screen lighted up as a young me stepped into the ring, the crowd having a mixed reaction to my appearance.

“So here we are in merry old England. MC Steel, Straight Edge Wrestling Superstar. And what's the national passtime here in England? Certainly isn't “wrestling”... You think every single person here in this crowd is here to see “wrestling”, but they're not. You see cause there's a bar, right over to my right right here.” The young me points to a man in sunglasses. “What are you hear for? Four eyes, what are you here for?” The man next to him yells out “To drink beer!” The crowd let’s out a roar. “To drink beer. EXACTLY. You're here to drink beer. You're a LOSER, and your dad probably beat you when you were a kid... which was probably two weeks ago. He's so drunk he can't even keep the poison in his mouth. You see I believe in three things: No drugs, no alcohol, and no promiscuous sex. See I'm a fine, upstanding individual... and if these fans came to see me, they came to see somebody who's better than them. Now England is known for soccer -- at least that's what we call it in America. You guys call it “football”, but I'm here to “wrestle”. Tonight, I'm here to destroy Phoenix, and I'm here to destroy every single one of his fans. Who's a Phoenix fan here? No damn sense! None of you have any damn sense!” The crowd starts to chant “al-co-hol! al-co-hol!” simultaniously. “DRINK! Keep drinkin'! Keep drinkin I WANT you to die! You smoke too?! Keep smokin'! Drink up, England... I WANT your liver to fail. Smoke up England, I WANT you to die. And here, speaking of death, right here tonight in that very ring - GET A SHOT OF THE RING - tonight, just like I did in America I'm gonna' DOMINATE you, Phoenix. And your time in this ring will be "nevermore." And you can quote THAT, bitch”

The tape comes to a halt. “See,” says Mitchell,”THAT’S what I want you guys be. He’s a good wrestler, sure, but that’s only half of it. Wrestling only gets you so far. You don’t have charisma, you’ll never be heard of again. MC Steel is this country’s next big thing.” Those 3 words were what made me what I am today.

--

I stepped back out of the ring and reached under the ring and pulled out a bag. “There it is. My stash.” I hurried back out of there. I don’t want to get caught.

I came to the building, ruck sack in hand. I slowly trotted up the steps and opened the front door, the creek of it echoing throughout the main room.

The room was dark; very little light creped through the boarded-up windows. As a walked, the floor boards creaked, as if something wanted to escape. I grab my rucksack and but out a small bag, and place it down in front of me. “There. There’s the money. Now let him go.” For a moment, there was no sound. Then in the corner of my eye, I see him. Billy. He has my brother, gun placed on the side of his temple. While another man counted the money in the bag, Billy glared at me, his scarred cheek throbbing with exhilaration. The unknown man nodded to Billy. He through the gun to the floor and walked away.

I held Aaron’s wrist. He was still alive, but barely. “You’re gonna make it, Aaron. You have to.” He looked up at me. His eyes sparkled in the light, but his eyes were cloudy. With my free hand, I dialled 911. Aaron was slowly drifting off, so I tried my best to keep him conscious. I accidentally put pressure on his stomach, forcing Aaron to jump, like he had been hit my lightning. I lift up his shirt to see cuts and bruises up and down his abdomen. This couldn’t get any worse.

--

Beep.

Beep.

Beep.

Beep.

Beep.

Beep.

The room swirled as colors and sounds blended together. The only sound, the only beacon of hope keeping Aaron from unconsciousness, was the steady beeping of the heart monitor. The notes slowly began to form a rhythmic pattern, each beat gaining clarity until the sound was almost deafening.

Aaron turned over onto his side, the electrodes on his chest threatening to detach in protest, and tried to swing his feet out. Shock, unabated and visceral, coursed through his veins when nothing happened. Aaron tried again, but to no avail.

Aaron tightened his fist so hard nails began to dig into flesh, but no amount of grief stricken anger would fix what had been done. Aaron's only solace would come with the fact that he had me by his side. “Settle down, Aaron. You need to rest.” Aaron turned his head and glared at me. “I don’t need to rest. I need to go home. I can look after myself.” He tried to move his legs, but he screamed in pain. “You’ve broken your neck, Aaron. You need to rest. Then you actually have a chance of getting better.”

"Don't let his actions destroy your life..."

Both Aaron and I heard the voice, penetrating the madness like a dagger, and twisted towards the door.

"I can see it happening. Your eyes betray you."

The voice, intellectual and masculine, bounced about the room. A man, knowledgeable beyond his years, stood in the doorway. All polished suit and tie, I immediately found a distrust for him growing in the back of his mind. After all, he is my dad.

“Visiting hours are over.” A smile tugged at the edges of my dad's lips, but no matter how big that smile got, I knew there'd be no good news to bare. "What'd you want?"

Dad started forward and Aaron, one last time, tried to move his legs. Nothing... With no way to truly defend himself, he prepared for the worst as the man reached into his jacket. A slim, white envelope appeared after a moment and had Aaron breathing a sigh of relief. “I’m here to apologise for everything. Abusing you two as a boy. Never seeing you on weekdays. And letting you leave me.” I walked over to my dad and grabbed his arm. “You do this now?” My dad’s worried look transformed into an angry one. “I did everything for you! I know I drank a lot, but I worked 12 hours every fucking day! What do you expect?!” I pushed him away and walked back into the room. “Make sure you get back the airport in time. You don’t want to miss your flight.”

--

The locker room showers were just as one would expect them to be -- disgusting beyond normal human comprehension. A brownish substance that I assumed was a mixture of soap scum and something else coated the majority of the originally-white tiled stalls, and the knobs and showerheads were equally coated in a thick layer of rust.

Regardless of the abysmal conditions, however, I grasped the shower knob and gave it a sharp counter clockwise turn.

The showerhead was gross; so was the knob. The walls, the floor, and even parts of the ceiling were in a condition that made David's gorge want to rise up out of his stomach. The water that blasted forth from the tainted showerhead was, however, just that -- water. Clear, hot, and cleansing, it worked wonders on the my tight and knotted muscles as it rushed over him, slowly making its way down my chiselled frame to the drain below.

I lifted my hands to the sides of my face, brushing my long, golden locks back and tucking them behind my ears.

''LPW... Lords of Pain Wrestling... Altered Reality...''

I closed his eyes and lifted my head, bringing my face directly into the powerful -- surprisingly powerful -- stream of water.

I was about to make my Altered Reality debut in one of the most well-respected wrestling federations on the planet. I, MC Steel, would get the opportunity to fight against the likes of Styxx, Drew, and of course, cYnical.

It was almost too good to be true, and yet…

I opened his eyes. I was facing some amazing athletes, but I’m not where I want to be, I would have to work my way up; I knew that from the beginning. And until I got to the tip-top of the roster… until I found myself staring across the ring at someone like Styxx or Drew or cYn… there would always be someone better for him to face.

Always.

--

''Grace and peace to you from him who is, and who was, and who is to come, and from the seven spirits before his throne, and from Jesus Christ, who is the faithful witness, the firstborn from the dead, and the ruler of the kings of the earth. Revelation 1:4-5''

From boys to men,

from men to heroes,

from heroes to legends,

from legends to gods,

and at Altered Reality, the gods will become immortal,

and the revolution will continue...