FLASHBACK

Keegan: I thank you all for being here. I have some news regarding the PPV. First off, the main event. Congrats Yoshi and Phoenix for advancing to the main event. The match will be for World Title, and because of that, it needs to be exciting. So it will be in a Hell in a Cell match!

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"You've just blacked out, and you almost banged your head on the edge of the coffee table. You've just had three matches in the space of two days, and now you've been put up with Aiden? He was just in a brutal hardcore match and he seems fine about it!"

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"Aiden? Nothing. Freak? Nothing. Dustin Walters? I've beaten him before, quite badly, and I'll do it again with ease.

---

Eventually, something Gold glimpses the corner of his eye, beneath his bed. Curiosity taking over, Yoshi lifted up the mattress and picked it up. It was a police badge. Yoshi gasps and continues looking. He picks up Eric’s wallet, and opens it.

---

Hey man, I don’t know where the fuck this came from?

But it’s got your picture on it!

Look, I have no idea how the hell this got here. Someone must have fucking planted it, like the OJ Simpson case! This is a fake, this isn’t real! I’m not a god damn cop! You know I hate the cop movies!

…Get…out.

Dude! You know I wouldn’t try anything like that!

…Get…out…

I’m not a fucking cop!

You have to fucking listen to me!

 Get the hell out of here and don’t return!

END FLASHBACK

So it's official. April 16th, 2005, the day that the DWI will never forget. The day that the first ever DWI Champion will be crowned, and the man that will be the major player in the federation will be decided. Both wrestlers, looking confident, each with their own impressive record, Yoshi, on a DWI unbeaten run of two out of three games, will be heading up against the undefeated Phoenix Washington for the DWI's own Heavyweight Championship. Yoshi had a poor first game, however, it could be said that he didn't perform due to being 'rusty', however since then, he's been impressing fans and pundits alike with slick moves, great timing and great wrestling abilities. Pheonix Washington, not a man to be forgotten, has been impressing everybody, first with the victory over Fire Storm, then, on his second week under a DWI contract, furious about not being booked for a match, Phoenix Washington decides to wreak havoc all over Warfare, destroying a great contest by Aiden and Marc Stephens, causing them to have their second match undecided. Enjoying the havoc brought on by Pheonix, Keegan J. Roberts decided to let Phoenix progress in the tournament, despite having a match. Some would call it cheating? But no, Pheonix Washington had an impressive display the following week against Christian Webb, proving he is a force to be reckoned with, pitting him in the finals, against the impressive Japanese young tenacious superstar, Yoshi Yawakuzi...

I sat there, with sweat dripping down my forehead. It was a hectic night, I had made a full recovery of my injuries the night after, so the next day I had decided to go to the gym, to fulfil my promise to Hope Horitzui to make sure nothing happens to me. I'll be truthful, it had been a while since I had done some real training, so I was slowly beginning to decrease my muscular body, and I was beginning to lose stamina, thus making me more tired each and every day. I was getting in a poor condition, so I had decided to help myself by going to the gym. I needed a good workout and nothing beats a good shower after a session at the gym. I went to the gym, and this is were my story had begun. I had met an old friend there...

It all had begun as soon as I entered the gym. It was a gym which I had not been to before, and it turns out, a gym that not many celebrities (well, maybe just people seen on TV) had been to before. The second I stepped through the door, I had a group of people, mostly teenagers wearing 'NPA HARDKORE T-SHIRTS' crowding around, with a pad and pen (which makes me think, how did they somehow manage to get them?) asking me to sign them. I politely accepted, and began to scrawl my signature all over the places. People left with smiles, most likely to go on eBay and sell it all for $100, but I don't mind, I'm making people rich, that's the way I see it. When out of the corner of my eye, I see an old familiar face, somebody I had an argument, somebody who almost made me never trust another soul again.

Eric Lockheart.

For those of you who don't know, Eric Lockheart used to be my manager. He taught me half of my arsenal, and I didn't know what I could do without him. However, one night, I had a dream, it was a dream that Eric Lockheart had arrested me for being a supposed illegal immigrant. I woke up early that night, to find the shower running, Eric not on his bed, so I used the time to go through his stuff, which is when I found it. A police badge. Pissed off, I kicked him out immediately, and have never seen him since then. Until now.

I turn around and begin to walk out the door, when I hear the voice which I hoped I'd never hear again.

"Yoshi."

It comes from behind me (inside the gym, I am facing the door), and I wince slightly, before turning around. Eric Lockheart stands there, wearing his trademark leather jacket, sporting his brown goatee, and generally looking like a biker. I glare at him, and Lockheart pushes me.

"What the hell are you doing at my gym?"

Taken aback, I glare, before raising my voice slightly.

"I'm training for my upcoming match. What's it to you?"

Lockheart laughs, as another guy walks over in our direction, bald, tanned, looking like a slightly smaller version of Vin Diesel, Yoshi looks at him. Lockheart smiles.

"You're still doing that thing? I thought you'd have given up and died out by now. So how are you doing? Still opening for the NLR?"

I glare and grit my teeth, I stick my hands in my jogging bottom pockets, before clenching my fist.

"Actually, the NLR died."

"Couldn't cope without my charisma, eh?"

I laugh hard, inside, about how pathetic he comes off

"Has to be. Who's this chump?"

"My new client. His names Damien Russo. He's the next big thing to hit the wrestling business."

"Oh yeah? You're still managing? Is this part time from being a cop?"

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Damien Russo giving Lockheart a dirty look. I smile, successfully, but try my hardest to disguise it. Lockheart just ignores me. He plays around with the bottom of his goatee, and I wince about how pathetic he looks. I couldn't believe I looked up to him. Well, things have changed, and I have definitely came out better off. I mean, I don't know about you, but I sure think Hope is a whole lot better looking!

"So. What's going on with your career?"

"Why the fuck would you care?"

"Hey. I like to know the people I made do in the future."

I was aghast.

"WHAT. THE. FUCK."

Lockheart gives me an odd look.

"You didn't fucking make me, you prick. I made you as a manager. You wouldn't have this...Damien Russo kid if it weren't for the successes I had for you, in the NLR. You know what? Whatever."

I walk through the door, barging Eric Lockheart in the process.

"Hey..."

He grabs my shoulder, and rage took hold of me. I don't know what got a hold of me, using my right arm, I give Eric Lockheart an elbow, right in the middle of the face. Lockheart falls to the floor, and Damien Russo grabs me by the shirt. We stare each other down, and I smirk. He smirks too, and we stand off in the middle of the gym. Lockheart quickly rushes up to his feet. Blood begins to trickle down his face, and Lockheart has no choice but to wipe some out of his eyes. He looks at Russo, and they exchange a glance, before slowly walking out of the gym. The receptionist gives me a dirty look, but I just ignore it. I used to get it all the time, no harm done for me. I slowly walk around the ring, where two people are boxing, before getting on the treadmill. I turn it on to P13 (one of the highest settings), and begin to sprint on it. I feel a vibration on my thigh, and I pick up my phone. I hold it to my ear and I a quivering female voice, my girlfriend, Hope Horitzui.

"Yoshi...I need you home...now...something bad has happened...something terrible."

Taken aback, I slip off the treadmill, and need to grab on to the handles to save myself falling over, I quickly turn it off, hang up off the phone, stick it in my pocket and begin to run out of the gym door, with people looking at me, their eyes following the back of my head. I get in the car and drive off, my mind going over the phrase over and over again. What the hell had happened?