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Oh, I can't wait to see the entire roster rip this guys head off! :-P
4CW Hall of Fame Class of 2018. Triple Crown Champion 2020. 2 times Universal, 2 times Tag team and 1 Time World Heavyweight Champion.
Wrestler of the Year 2017, Champion of the Year 2017, Most Improved 2017
Oh, I can't wait to see the entire roster rip this guys head off! :-P
Except he doesn't accept failure. He'll be the one ripping heads off 😋
Oh, I can't wait to see the entire roster rip this guys head off! :-P
Except he doesn't accept failure. He'll be the one ripping heads off 😋
And that's gonna be the most fun thing about it, he thinks he's gonna be the one ripping heads. We might see an absolute dick character learn humility! :-P
4CW Hall of Fame Class of 2018. Triple Crown Champion 2020. 2 times Universal, 2 times Tag team and 1 Time World Heavyweight Champion.
Wrestler of the Year 2017, Champion of the Year 2017, Most Improved 2017
but... what's his NAME!??
Once a man would spend a week patiently waiting if he missed a stage coach, but now he rages if he misses the first section of a revolving door.
I put it in the signup thread. I wrote this before I thought of a name. Now I'm happy with one I made the bio.
He's a man with a plan. A man with money. He's a man who gets what he wants. Nothing gets in his way. Well, sometimes things do, but they don't last long. If he can't power play his way out, he buys his way out. If buying his way out doesn't work, well... money talks in more ways than one. He has connections.
Take his ex-wife for example. Only two people in the world know where she is right now. She once stood in his way. She felt alone. She felt unwanted, fed up with him constantly working and having affairs. The final straw was when he told her a wrestling career was more important than her happiness. She didn't see the point in pro wrestling, didn't see what value there was in it, what she could gain from it. She wondered how much he'd waste to live yet another dream. She was done with him. She wanted half his bank account. She was going to use it to buy a remote island somewhere. She stood in his way, so he tried to buy her silence. Buy her off, offering her less than his company apprentices earn in a month. It's all he thought she was worth. £500 a month and she should be grateful for that. She wasn't having it.
Before the court date, her solicitor received a letter. The letter detailed how she was content with life. Along with the letter was a document. Divorce papers, signed, giving her nothing. It said that she accepted that she did nothing to earn his money. There was something else with the document. A cheque. The solicitor should have followed this up with the police. Nothing was right about it. Nothing but the cheque. £500k was enough for the solicitor to sign the paperwork and push the divorce through. The solicitor committed suicide a week later, without cashing in the cheque. All questions of foul play mysteriously vanished. Much like his ex-wife.
He doesn't get his hands dirty when he doesn't have to. Money brings you connections. Connections bring you results, like a missing ex-wife. Like a solicitor unable to cash in a big cheque. He knows what happened to everyone. He has to know. It feeds his ego. Sometimes the thought brings him to climax whilst he fucks his secretary over his desk. Only one other person knows about the ex-wife and solicitor. They'll be dealt with in time.
Nothing stands in his way. Not for long.
His secretary knocks on his office door. Tells him that there's a man in the lobby to see him. His 11 o'clock. It's an important meeting. One that could have huge implications going forward. He tells his secretary to go tell the man that he's running late. He isn't. He just likes to show that he's in charge. He walks over to the wall on the left of his desk and opens the floor to ceiling panel, revealing a hidden floor to ceiling mirror. He straightens his tie, smooths his hair back and stand there for five minutes admiring himself.
He heads down to the lobby to greet his guest. Guests aren't allowed in his office. They're not allowed past the lobby at first. He has a strict five visit policy. Five visits to the lobby and he decides whether you can go past, or whether you never step foot in his building again. One look at the man standing before him and he knows he'll get past the lobby in four more visits. This is the man who will help him achieve his goals. This is the man who will make sure that no one stands in his way ever again. At nearly seven foot the visitor is a brick shithouse. The man introduces himself as a former multi-time world wrestling champion. In an unusual turn of events, hands are shaken. He doesn't usually shake hands of those he considers lesser men. Everyone is a lesser man. This is a man that will take him to the very top of the wrestling world. If he fails... well, there might be one more missing person that no one will investigate.
Quadruple J isn't a man to be trusted. He's a man that makes Rick Flair look like a fair wrestler. He cheats at more things in life than the average person takes shits. He didn't get rich by playing fair. He didn't oust his father from the family business by playing fair. He certainly didn't play fair in every hostile takeover since.
He's a man without morals. He made his surprise 4CW debut and instantly attacked the weakness in his opponent. Money bought him the information he needed. Janitur had so many weaknesses that it was easy. He made his entrance rain down with his own dollar bills, his pocket change. But that wasn't what he needed for Janitur. He just wants to show off. No, he won with a simple bottle of beer. He scoffed at the idea initially. He has bottles of whiskey worth thousands of pounds in his office, whiskey worthy of making even the most sober person consider becoming alcoholic just to taste. That, he could understand. A simple beer though? Hardly seemed worth the effort of buying, but if life in 4CW was going to be that easy, he didn't mind. The raining money entrance just made it hilarious.
Now it's nearly time for Gallows End. The 13 Ghost Gauntlet match. He paces around his office day and night. His personal gym gathering dust as he moved a select few items into his office, adding to his seclusion. He wants nothing more than to win. No one can disturb him, not even his personal trainer or PA. He's thinking about how he can win. Who he can bribe. Can the refs be paid to count faster for him? Can they be paid to count slower if someone tries to pin him? Can be make himself bigger, stronger, faster, without breaking drug test rules. How much would it cost to make those rules go away where he is concerned? He thinks about many things. He works out as often as he can. He admires himself in the floor to ceiling mirror. And he dreams of becoming the 4CW champion.
He sits at his desk staring at the screen. Solitaire is open. Nothing else. £3000 on a top of the range PC that the guys in his IT department could only dream of having. Solitaire is all it's used for though. But he has to have the best, even when it's unnecessary. Or to show everyone, even IT, that he is better than them by having everything better than them. Most of his time is spent on his phone, where he answers the occasional email. He deletes the latest that comes in after barely scanning its contents; HR want him to attend a sexual harassment course, after repeatedly calling a female "Sugar Tits" all the way through a meeting.
He is bored of the commercial world now. He needs more out of life. He knows that if he's to be noticed in the wrestling world, then he needs to not only hone his craft, but to stand out. He needs to get bigger, and fast. He needs to improve, fast. He needs to make a statement.
A statement… he sits and ponders what kind of statement he could make. A big win, maybe? Take someone out backstage and replace them in their scheduled match? He ponders for a while and then he smiles. He knows what he must do.
He stands, staring at the huge picture on his office wall. He wonders about how something so beautiful could have cost so little. It's a painting of Lucifer slaying angels, with many already dead at his feet in a bloody heap. It cost a cool £1.8 million. Pocket change. It's his favourite picture in the world. He sees himself in the picture as Lucifer, his employees as the angels learning who's really in charge. You stand up to him, he will slay you.
He loops his thumps under his suspenders, pulling them slightly away from his body as he thinks on what his next move will be. He's conquered the business world. He's one of the richest men alive. He's proven he's a genius many times over. He's conquered women all over the world with his chiselled body and good looks, never mind his endless wealth and business suits that put everyone to shame.
He thinks, and he thinks. He can't stop thinking about a wrestling promotion he attended last month. He continues to stare at the huge picture on his office wall. He makes his decision. He will conquer 4CW. Once he's done that, he will really feel like the greatest person who ever lived. Failure isn't an option, he's the man. The man doesn't know failure. He only knows how to be on top. Always.
He calls his PA on speakerphone. Tells her to get him in touch with someone called Skywolf. Whatever the financial cost, he wants to be on the roster. He will pay it. He lets her know that she must come back to him with a date to join the roster. If she doesn't get a date, she won't have a job anymore. She would be lucky if he didn't buy her house and evict her. He doesn't accept failure.
He decides to head to the fourteenth floor, to his personal gym. His training begins now.