Post by LeKKter tha Lunatik on Feb 14, 2013 7:10:34 GMT -5
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Superstar Information
Wrestler's Name: Lekkter tha Lunatik
Wrestler's Nickname: "The Catalyst of Insanity," "Tha Loony Toon", "The Mimic"
Billed From: San Francisco, CA.
Manager/Valet: He has an assortment of managers, however he is seen the most often with two people: his "best friend" Seth Azeroth, and his "shrink," Dr. Rouser Schleshinger (emphasize on the quotation marks...there really is no documentation that proves he's an actual shrink.)
Age: 26
Height: 6'0"
Weight: 221 lbs.
Face/Heel Status: He is what you would call a "tweener," holding a neutral position with the locker room. To his fans however, he could be classified as a face, but by NO means a babyface.
Theme Music: "Cult Leader" by Tech N9ne
Gimmick: What is to be known about Lekkter? Not much. What is known about him is that he can be considered as nothing less than chaos itself...
...a lunatic.
The embodiement of Murphy's Law: if it can go wrong, Lekkter can--and will--make it go wrong for anyone he feels like bringing the inconvience towards.
Pic Base: Here is a link that can best describe Lekkter's appearance: ts3.mm.bing.net/th?id=H.4630864683795582&pid=1.7&w=121&h=155&c=7&rs=1
Detailed Appearance (out of the ring): Lekkter's appearance, while not changing much in the ring as opposed to out of it, is a key way to really understand what's going on in his mind. He has an array of different tattoos over his body, the most noticable ones are the ones on either of his forearms: On his left forearm, he has the word "Respect" in sandscript cursive, stretching from his elbow to his wrist. On the right forearm, he has the word "Hostility" written in scratched out chiller-style font. These two words form one of his favortie catch phrases..."Respect Hostility."
His tatoo on his back is a mural-like picture, depicting the seven deadly sins in human form. Each sin is represented by a person, acting out said sin; on his left shoulderblade is a seductive woman in a scantily clad red dress, below her is the word "lust." On his right shoulderblade is a close up of lightning shooting from a man's hand, and in his veins is the word "wrath." On the lower left side of the back by the kidney area is the picture of an overweight, sloppy man with the word "gluttony" written underneath him; on the right side directly across is a man sitting over a large pile of money, raking it in with his arms. Right next to him is another man, staring over the greedy one's shoulder, staring at the pile of money, his eyes as green as the bills. Above their heads you see the words "greed" and "envy," respectively. In the middle of the small of his back, in between the "gluttony" and "greed" pictures is a picture of a drunken man, outstreched and asleep. Under him is the word "sloth." And finally, stretching from shoulder to shoulder, above the "lust" and "wrath" pictures, is a picture of a muscular, powerful looking man sitting in the clouds, arms crossed, signifying the word which is inscribed in the clouds he sits in: "Pride." These are his most notable tatoos, however, he does have many more, including the word "Hurricane" written over a picture of a doppler radar of the eye of a hurricane; this tatoo strectches across his abdomen.
His physical build isnt that of a superhero, but he does keep himself in shape. He has a build very similar to Raven (sans WCW when he lead the Flock) but with a more cut and slim definition. He has NUMEROUS scars from either fighting or pulling a stupid and dangerous stunt. His most notable are the marks on his face: he has a deep scar that stretches across his face, from the bottom left corner of his left eye, across the bridge of his nose and to his right cheek. He got this from a piece of glass from a window pane, which he shattered with, well, his face. He also has self inflicted scars that run from the corners of his mouth to the bottom of his cheekbones, very similar to The Joker from "the Dark Knight."
On his body are an assortment of cuts and scars from his escapades, including another deep scar that runs from his left pectoral muscle across his torso--which actually cuts through his "Hurricane" tatoo--to his right hip. Other than that one, however, they are just minor cuts and scrapes that go relatively unnoticed.
He has a very unique style when it comes to his apparel. He normally just wears black jean shorts, but the color of his shorts do alternate, depending on his mood. He is also know to wear a random costume or outfit from time to time, just to throw off the audience. What is really unique about his apparel, however, is his shirts. Most of the time, they are tall black tee shirts with something random written on them in bold, white letters. Either its his "Respect Hostility" slogan, or something more funnier, like his other phrase, "KRAKK ROX -n- OTTER POPZ," or "THUNDERLIPS AND KOOL AID!!!," niether of which make any sense, but have caught on heavily with his fan base.
His hair is always worn in long, thick dreadlocks, which are normally dyed light red or light green, but at times is dyed in other colors such as orange, purple, fuchia and blue. His actual hair color is assumed to be dark brown. He, at times, wears facial hair--a light goatee and thin sideburns that stretch down his jawline and meet with the goatee--that he keeps his actual color.
His actual eye color is a mystery as well, although it is believed to be green. He wears different color contact lenses that cover his real eye color. The color of the contact coordinates with the color of his hair at the time, which coordinates with the color of his apparel at the time. The design of the contacts range from cat's eyes to completely colored in around the iris...much like "whited out" contacts. For a crazy person, Lekkter is actually very good at keeping himself in order appearance-wise.
Detailed Appearance (In the ring): His in ring gear is not to far off from what he wears outside of the ring. He simply takes his shirt off and wrestles in his jean shorts. He does wear black kneepads, which do not change in color. He also wears a knee brace on his left knee, due to an injury suffered in an ill advised jump off a two story building. He also wears standard black elbow pads, and calf-high wrestling boots, which are also black. He heavily tapes his fists before every match, up past his wrists, almost covering the bottom pieces of his forearm tatoos.
He wears an occasional smear of facepaint to the ring, normally color-coordinating with his apparel. Normally, its a cross, the vertical line running from the middle of his forehead, down to his chin; the horizontal line running from cheek to cheek. He also would have two acute triangles, painted upside down underneath each of his eyes, that run across his cheekbones and reach a point on his chin.
Personality: LeKKter is usually a humourous--albiet frustrating--person. However, whenever something happens, whether it be a spoken word from an enemy or an action that triggers it, he tends to quickly become entranced by a psychotic and VERY violent mind state. When this happens, it's always best to keep clear of LeKKter. He always snaps out of his trance, eventually, to no real recollection of his actions while underneath said spell. This makes him a VERY dangerous person at ANY time.
Titles? Fame? Bah! That is normally his thought process in regards to those things. Yes, he has a cult following, and his motley crue of myrimidons follow him to the Earth's end. But, outside of that, he has no real interest in "accolades." Sure, if given the chance to, he will rip heads off for a championship or a shot at one. However, he has been known to sacrifice his own titles, matches, alliances, etc. in order to satisfy his inner need for unruly anarchy. If I were to compare him to anyone, attitude-wise, it would be to the old heel version of "Rowdy" Roddy Piper. Most would say to leave this man alone, but that in itself proves to be of great difficulty, as it is hard to ignore what doesnt care to be ignored...so to speak.
Brief Bio: Like previously mentioned, not much is known about Lekkter's personal life, except he was born 26 years ago in the Haight-Ashbury district of San Francisco, California...which may be able to shine some light on exactly how he became who he is today (those familiar with this paticular area would be able to understand where I'm coming from much better than those that aren't. Long story short, Haight-Ashbury is a "hippie-ville" where hallucinogenics and craizees run rampant.)
At a young age, for some reason, Lekkter enjoyed watching wrestling. He became so enamored with it, that at age 19, he finally took the extra step and signed up for lessons at local wrestling schools throughout the Bay Area. It was here where he was dubbed "Tha Lunatik," due to his facination with "extreme" style wrestling, and his determination to master it. However, his aggressive and wild style forced him out of many wrestling schools which didn't condone the usage of "extreme" tactics in wrestling. He was kicked out of many of them because of his refusal to abandon his styles and focus more on traditional style wrestling, as well as him performing DANGEROUS moves on his fellow pupils, causing injury to more than a few of them.
After gaining a reputation as a "lunatic," and a "dangerous" wrestler, he began to wash his hands to training in a traditional wrestling school, and began teaching himself on the fly--a skill in which he utilizes during his matches VERY often. However, not being trained in some form of combat just wasn't going to be enough for Lekkter, so he started attending martial arts dojos, specifically of the Hawaiian Kaji-Kenpo, Brazilian Ju Jit-su and Muai Thai Kickboxing type (the latter he has mastered. The previous two are seondary. He is VERY dangerous with his feet.) There, he met his "best friend," (at least to him) Seth Azeroth, who is the "yin" to Lekkter's "yang." As where Lekkter is off-the-hook insane at times, Seth is the opposite; the cooler head to prevail where Lekkter fails to do so. If it wasn't for Seth Azeroth, Lekkter wouldn't know where his SHOES are, let alone be able to compete in professional wrestling.
Lekkter has been training in martial arts for the past six or so years, beginning at age 20 until now. He doesnt utilize these skill as much as you would think he would in his matches, opting to always defer to his home grown passion of hardcore style fighting. He has traveled to many different places around the world, competing in Japan and Mexico for a stretch of time, as well as a plethora of indy federations throughout the states. Never, though, has he ever taken a shot at a big time promotion, because he assumes that his "reputation" will become a hinderance to him signing with anyone notable. Azeroth, however, has recently become a "manager" of sorts for Lekkter, getting him tryouts for the top companies in the industry. Hopefully, this will be the last stop for Lekkter for the time being, but honestly, who knows.
Style: Completely unorthodox. As previously mentioned, Lekkter has mastered the skill of learing on the "fly"; to elaborate, he can study his opponent in the ring, and pick up on his move arsenal. The result of this is him being VERY difficult to attack, as he is good at countering and using momentum against opponents (due to his Kenpo and Ju Jit-su background) and telegraphing attacks. He also has a unique way of mimicking moves, turning them into his own...and he uses all of these tactics A LOT. He has an advanced grasp on traditional style wrestling as well (it never was said he didnt pay attention in those wrestling schools he attended, he just was a disruptance..) including various suplexes, slams and others, but he has--and always will be--classified as a hardcore wrestler.
Playing second and third fiddle to hardcore, however, is his utilization of submission moves, especially chokeholds and leg locks, and his aerial, daredevil-like tactics. His martial arts training plays a huge factor in his preferred submission maneuvers, and it shows. If he can't knock his opponent out for the 1-2-3, he WILL resort to locking them up in a hold. Big opponents or small, he has a hold for them all. He also relies on his insane style of aerial assaults, jumping off of almost anything in order to hurt his opponents.
Entrance:
The lights dim to an almost complete darkness...low, thick tufts of smoke form on the floor at the main entrance and on the stage area...
"Cult Leader? Hehehe..." the words from Tech N9ne start up the track, followed by the blare of the opening trumpets of the song. After the inital diatribe by Tech N9ne is over, the song "Cult Leader" kicks in, loudly blaring through the P.A. speakers.
"In this house there is no room for envy, this is why we wear our uniform!
Racist not welcome! Rapist not welcome! Hatred, dreaded in this house!
Ready to fight hatred with love? Join us!"
*BOOM!!!*
Pyro blasts from both sides of the stage as the song kicks in...moments later, a figure appears, lurking in the smoky entrance way. And from out the smoke steps Lekkter tha Lunatik. Lekkter peers out into the crowd for a moment as the opening lines of the chorus to the song play out. As the second stanza of the song hits, secondary pyro fires into the sky from the stage area, causing smoke to billow down the ramp. In unison with this, Lekkter leaps into the air, yelling at the top of his lungs, and bounds onto the ramp, and makes his way to the ring...
Lekkter slowly drags himself to the ring, taunting the fans in the aisle way area as he does so. He approaches the ring, grabbing the middle rope, and pulls himself up onto the apron. Then, he slides himself into the ring on his back, and kips up quickly, before jogging to the nearby turnbuckle and ascending it. He raises his arms in the air, soaking in his reaction, before moving to the adjacent corner, and perching himself up on the top turnbuckle, and awaits his opponent.
Finishing Moves:
1.) Revoke Existance (Similar to Gail Kim's "Eat Da Feet," Lekkter short-arm irish whips his opponent, and on the comeback, Lekkter places his foot along the jawline of his opponent. While still holding his opponent's arm, he falls backwards onto his back, driving his foot into opponent's jaw.)
2.) Tha Str8 Jacket (Bob Backlund's Crossface Chicken-wing...note: this is Lekkter's favorite move to hit, as he can lock it on at almost any angle, running or standing (he prefers running), or as a counter, and on big or small opponents. ALWAYS watch for this move.)
Signature Moves:
1.) The Face Lift (Super Kick...note: this move is used suddenly, there is NO forewarning of this coming. It is usually used on bigger opponents as a finisher, or to set up the Str8 Jacket.)
2.) Beldigo (Cradle Shock Drop)
3.) The "KABOSH" Kick (Running Enziguri ala Alberto Del Rio)
Basic Moveset:
Strikes
1.) Snap kick to body or head.
2.) Trapping headbutts
3.) Superman Punch
4.) Shuffling Side Kick
5.) Palm Shots to the body
6.) Roundhouse Kick
7.) Hard Elbow Smash (similar to Wade Barrett's "Bullhammer" elbow)
8.) Trouble in Paradise kick (or the Ernest Miller's "Feliner" kick)
10.) Quick Combinations of jabs and kicks to the body and head (used when opponent is trapped in corner.)
Aerial
1.) Flying Headscissors
2.) Hurricanrana (top rope or standing)
3.) Asai Moonsault (from random heights)
4.) Corkscrew Plancha (from random heights)
5.) 450 Shooting Star Press
6.) Guillotine Legdrop
7.) The Blockbuster (Buff Bagwell's old finisher)
8.) Missile Dropkick
9.) Senton Splash
10.) Flying Headbutt
Suplexes and Slams
1.) Fisherman's Suplex
2.) T Bone Suplex
3.) Belly-to-Back Suplex
4.) Belly-to-Belly Suplex
5.) German Suplex (preferred to hit while running)
6.) Exploder Suplex
7.) Snap Suplex
8.) Powerslam (ala Randy Orton)
9.) Sidewalk Slam
10.) Black Hole Slam (on smaller opponents)
DDTs, Drivers and Drops
1.) Reverse DDT (Stinger Death Drop)
2.) Tornado DDT (Dudely Dog)
3.) Implant DDT (ala Edge or Gangrel)
4.) Double armed DDT (ala Mick Foley)
5.) Russian Leg Sweep
6.) STO
7.) Osaka Street Cutter (Vertical Suplex Stunner...or "Rolling Stunner")
8.) Burning Hammer (ala Kenta Kobashi)
9.) Flatliner (or the Stroke OR the Mic Check)
10.) Falcon Arrow
11.) Side Effect (ala Matt Hardy)
12.) Twist of Fate Jawbreaker (Ala Jeff Hardy)
13.) Michenoku Driver (ala TAKA Michenoku)
14.) Hanging Brainbuster (ala Austin Aries, but with a hangtime, rather than straight up and down.)
15.) Death Valley Driver (Ala Perry Saturn)
Submissions
1.) Elevated Texas Cloverleaf (ala Dean Malenko)
2.) Sharpshooter (ala Brett Hart)
3.) Figure Four Leg Lock (ala Ric Flair)
4.)Anaconda Vise (ala CM Punk)
5.) Grapevine Ankle Lock (ala Kurt Angle)
6.) Grapevine Guillotine Chokehold
7.) Rear Naked Choke (ala Samoa Joe)
8.) Hangman's Choke from top rope (similar to Guillotine choke, but standing, and with Lekkter sitting on the top turnbuckle.)
9.) Gogoplata Choke (aka Undertaker's "Hell's Gate")
10.) Triangle Choke
11.) Cross Armbar (ala Alberto Del Rio)
12.) Crippler Crossface (or the NO! Lock, ala Chris Benoit/Daniel Bryan)
13.) Elevated Boston Crab (The LIONTAMER, NOT The Walls of Jericho...there's a difference.)
14.) Mexican Surfboard
15.) Tequila Sunrise (ala Konan)
16.) STF (ala John Cena)
17.) Cobra Clutch
18.) Tazzmission
19.) Single leg Boston Crab (ala Lance Storm)
20.) Tongan Death Grip (ala Meng)
Sample RP:
"I'm just saying, you need to do something to occupy your time..."
Fade in...as the camera adjusts to its surroundings, you get a bird's eye view of our main subject, Lekkter tha Lunatik, stretched out over a long leather reclining chair; much like you would see in a psychiatrist's office, used for patients. His hands are folded in behind his head, as his head rests on them. He is glaring at the ceiling, with a look of disinterest spread across his face as the unknown voice continues...
"You need to find something...constructive...to do with your time. Otherwise, you are going to continue to get caught up in these...undesirable...situations; either with some OTHER maniac which could put you in a dangerous position, or the law is going to track you down again. Then, the judge is going to once again hand you these mandatory meetings with your psychiatrist, in an attempt to "normalize" you and "calm" you down...although that seems impossible."
As the person--who is now percieved to be a therapist of some sort--continues, the camera shoots around the room, examining the scenery. We come upon a wide, panoramic shot of a desk in the middle of the room, and the things on top of the table: a couple pictures of people...possibly family members. A little plant of sorts that "decorates" the desk. A computer screen in the middle of the table blocks your view of the person behind the desk, but a nameplate lays in behind the screen, at the edge of the table that reads "Dr. Rouser Schleshinger, M.D." which gives us the identity of the person behind the table. The camera shoots back to Lekkter, who sits up in the chair, now with a confused and bewildered look on his face as he speaks...
"Wait, don't you get PAID to have me here, looking at the cieling?" said Lekkter.
"Well, I suppose there is a monetary aspect to this, yes..." replied Dr. Schleshinger.
"Well, what are you bitching about, then? Come to think of it, I don't even know how the judge allowed me to see you. I don't even think you're a real shrink."
"Well, I've never been so insulted..."
"I don't see how that offends you. After all, I met you at a RAVE. And not one of those pansy ass 'club scene' raves, either. I met you at an illegal, underground, lights-pills-and candy kids rubbin all over eachother rave. I mean, really...the party was at a place called the 'Crackhouse.' Ya know why it was called that? Because, after further observation upon arriving there, it looked like a GENUINE crackhouse! Plus, look at all of your certificates...they look like they were printed out off the internet."
"My credentials are full fledged, 100 percent legitimate!"
"Mmmmkay, if you say so."
"I'll have you know, I attended Stanford!"
"As what? A janitor? Look, just cause you have a cool looking Sherlock Holmes tobacco pipe, wear glasses and sweater vests and use big, uneccessairily complex words when you talk to people does NOT make you a shrink. Dude."
"Look, we are not here to challenge the validity of my achievements OR my occupation--"
"Or lack thereof..."
"Or lack thereof--hey! That's uncalled for, sir!"
Lekkter smirks to himself. He stands up out of his seat, and paces around the room for a moment before leaning up against a bookcase, and reaching into his pocket. He pulls out a pack of Camel cigarettes, and pulls one out of the pack, and puts it into his mouth. He reaches back into his pocket, and pulls out a zippo, and strikes it. He lights his cigarette, and takes a deep drag, holds it momentarily, and exhales, letting the smoke flow from his nose.
"Can I smoke in here, 'Doc?'" Lekkter asks the Doctor.
"Ummm...this IS the state of California, so technically--"
"Right on, Doc! Thanks a bunch for looking the other way while I light up. Praise Allah that you ain't a real doctor, ya know...otherwise, you would be all uptight about this."
"Right. Whatever. Be my guest. Hell, I'll join you."
"Cool beans...smoke em up!"
Dr. Schlesinger goes into his desk, and grabs his "Sherlock Holmes" pipe and tobacco and packs the bowl. He strikes a wooden match, and places it to the bowl, and takes a few sharp puffs from it. He exhales the smoke, and leans back in his chair and continues the conversation...
"Ok, listen, because this is serious. I have been talking with your good friend, Seth Azeroth, and he came up with a great idea that will keep you out of trouble as well as help you exert some of that aggressive energy that you have been carrying around."
"Yeah? What exactly is this ingenious plan?"
"We have scheduled a try out for one of today's premiere wrestling franchises in the business: Premium Championship Wrestling. In today's world, MMA has taken the bulk of the audience that follows wrestling, resulting in a down trend in wrestling, and a loss of overall popularity. But, this company is one of the exceptions to the rule; probably the most successful company from a group of very few organizations...two to three at the most. This company has proven that they are one of the big dogs in this business, and we were very fortunate to be able to provide this oppurtunity for you. And, with your martial arts background, as well as a history of extreme wrestling going for you, you can bring EVEN MORE popularity to their already flourishing product; maybe even bring back some of those fans that left pro wrestling for UFC and the like. I can just imagine--"
"Shut...the fuck...up....Doc." Lekkter interjected.
"I'm sorry?"
"You heard me...shuddap!! Wrestling passed me by long ago. Seth can tell you, those company big wigs want NO parts of me, and it has been proven. Hence the reason I spent three to four years scrounging around the indy leagues. Now, you're telling me, that one of the biggest wrestling promotions in the world wants to give me a try out? Well, I call BALDERDASH!!"
"Where did you learn the word 'balderdash?'"
"I heard it on a British soap opera...mind your business."
"I don't think you even know what 'balderdash' means."
"NONSENSE!!!"
"Well, yeah...actually. You're correct."
"What did I do correctly?"
"You told me the definition...nonsense."
"DONT YOU INSULT ME!!!"
"Lekkter....I..."
Epic staredown
"Can we move on?" The doctor asks.
"To what? There's nothing to discuss! Pro wrestling and me are not exactly on speaking terms right now. And I really don't care if it EVER CALLS ME AGAIN!!!"
"Lekkter, you're being extremely unreasonable. Let's try to look at this in a positive light, and stop being so goddamn difficult!"
"Are you allowed to swear at me like that? My ears are VERY SENSITIVE!!!"
"I see what you are doing here; quit trying to distract me by changing the subject. This isn't about me, it's about you, and the NEED for you to do something other than make everything and everyone around you miserable. And yes, I can curse all I want.
Now, on to the subject at hand...can you even fathom the things I needed to do and favors I had to call in for this to come to fruition?"
"Well, I'm sorry that you had to place a large amount of penis in your palms in order for me to get invited to do something I dont fucking want to do, and I appreciate it...I guess. But, the fact remains the same: I don't fucking wanna wrestle anymore!"
"Okay...I am tired of this. This is what is going to happen..."
"Are you issuing an ultimatium, Schlesinger?"
"You could say that. According to my records, you are on formal probation for the next year and a half. Meaning, that if your P.O. gets word that you are not only unemployed, but you are NOT trying to look for work, nor are you really complying with you COURT ORDERED MANDATORY PSYCHIATRIST MEETINGS--"
"What? How am I not complying?"
"You really think any progress has been made in the last three months, Lekkter? No, there hasn't, and I can easily report that to your P.O. too."
"Awww man...he's a dick and a half, too."
"Well, that being said, if he finds all of this out, I don't see anything stopping him from violating you right there on the spot. And then guess who will be in a correctional facility by nightfall?"
"Ummm...you?"
"Hilarious. No...YOU."
"Oh."
"In order to prevent that, you need a job."
"I dont wanna fucking wrestle..." Lekkter muttered under his breath as he pouts in the corner.
"FINE! We will look into something else. What skills do you have?"
"Ermm...uhhh....ummm....I can do a backflip!"
"I mean vocational skills...something that can help you get ahead in the work force. Can you type?"
"Hehe....naw."
"Are you good with computers at all?"
"I can access youtube and facebook...that's it. OH, and porn...LOTS and LOTS of porn. All kinds too..."
"That's lovely. Won't help you get a job, but still...anyway, do you have any experience with anything?"
Lekkter begins pacing again, puffing on his cigarette as he contemplates to himself, until it reaches the butt. Then, suddenly, he flicks the still lit cigarette butt into the air, ricocheting off the cieling, and landing directly into the doctor's lap. Dr. Schlesinger reacts quickly, brushing the butt off of his lap as a hole burns into his pants. Orange cinders go flying eveywhere, including some sticking to the doctors hand and burning him. He winces to himself as he successfully puts the butt out, and looks at Lekkter with utter exasperation in his eyes.
"IVE GOT IT!!"
"What...is it, Lekkter?" the doctor says with a deep sigh.
"I know how to...nope, never mind. Damn, what the hell AM I good at?"
"A question that baffles even the most intellectual of minds..."
"Shit! This is a helluva smack to the face. I just realized something...the only thing I HAVE been good at was...punching faces."
"Exactly...I wouldn't put it that way during your interview, but yes, that's an accurate statement."
"And, punching faces is only really condoned inside of a ring. I mean, I can punch faces at a lawyer's office or a dry cleaners, but I dont think they would keep me on the payroll for long if I start doing that. Not to mention, I'd probably go to jail or something."
"It's amazing how common sense tends to play hide and seek with your brain, Lekkter. And just when you're about to yell 'Olly Olly Ox-n-Free!,' you spot it, poking it's head out from the bushes."
"What?"
"Nothing...nevermind."
"Right on! Anyway, the more I think about this whole pro wrestling thing, the more it seems to be my...destiny, of sorts."
"I wouldn't say it was destiny, just yet. More like your only outlet that will keep you from scrutiny."
"Whatever the case may be, I think I'm in!"
"THANK YOU! Finally, some progress. And you say I'm not a real shrink!"
"Your certificates are signed with colored pencil...things like that draw a few red flags."
Epic staredown, part two...after a moment of ice cold silence, Lekkter breaks it, and continues speaking...
"Premium Championship Wrestling...hmmm...I've heard of you guys before. I know that the PCW is on the top of the food chain in regards to this business. I know of your rich legacy, and I know that when it comes down to making a decision as to who to sign with, this is a no brainer. I know all of this, and I acknowledge it.
"I also know that you--and others like you--have avoided me and my type for years, out of fear that your image may be tarnished by the likes of a person like me. I'm different...and difficult to deal with on a professional level at times. I admit this. And federations like YOU have always given me the cold shoulder because of this...
"This has jaded me heavily throughout the years. Pretty much to the point where I began to lose confidence in my abilities, although it was clear as day that I possess some of the most intriguing skills that you will ever come across. My dedication, as iron willed as it was in the past, seemed to become as scarred as my body has become from years of abuse. The end result is what you see here: a man who rebels against the mainstream and all of it's images, including the 'mainstream' versions of professional wrestling, that being you...the PCW.
"Ya know, if it wasn't for this quack of a doctor over here--"
"HEY!!!"
"--then I wouldn'tve even contemplated coming back to the squared circle ever again. And I would be fine with that. But, like Dr. Rouser over here just explained, I am in need of something meaningful....and something that will give me money for beer and what not. And, this is what I am truly good at: fighting. Knocking people, and things--animals, inanimate objects, et ectera--the FUCK out. And this is the place I can do that...legally, anyway.
"So, I have been talked into it...I'm accepting your little try out. My hopes are not up in any way, but I will say this: I will be prepared, ready, willing and able to demonstrate to all of the PCW...from the executives, to the fans, to the locker room...hell even to the goddamn peanut vendors in the arenas...that I am--and always have been--the catalyst of excellence. I am the one that has been overlooked by the powers that be for TOO LONG! And that time has finally come to a long awaited conclusion. Now, its time to get back into full force mode...
It's time to get psychotic...
You are all forewarned...I am approaching you all with intent to do harm. And when you see me on the horizon, know that it will only be a matter of time before I am in the faces of all who make the mistake and oppose me. And when the days comes in which it happens, you will all have on your hands a storm...a fucking category five hurricane, damaging EVERYTHING in it's path. You will fucking SEE why I have always been considered a VERY VERY dangerous specimen.
There's a reason why I am called 'the Lunatik.' Care to find out? Then allow me to demonstrate."
An alarm from an alarm clock sounds off. The doctor clicks it off, and looks at Lekkter.
"Your tryout is scheduled for tomorrow, 9:00 A.M."
"9:00? JEBUS!!"
"Don't you be late. Talk to Azeroth...he has all the details for you. For now, your time is up for the day. I am sure your P.O. will be happy to hear of your decision."
"God, I hate that guy..."
Lekkter reaches for another cigarette, and lights it up. The cherry glows as he takes a deep drag and exhales.
"See ya next week, Doc."
The scene fades away as Lekkter leaves the office.
Your Name: JahJah
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Superstar Information
Wrestler's Name: Lekkter tha Lunatik
Wrestler's Nickname: "The Catalyst of Insanity," "Tha Loony Toon", "The Mimic"
Billed From: San Francisco, CA.
Manager/Valet: He has an assortment of managers, however he is seen the most often with two people: his "best friend" Seth Azeroth, and his "shrink," Dr. Rouser Schleshinger (emphasize on the quotation marks...there really is no documentation that proves he's an actual shrink.)
Age: 26
Height: 6'0"
Weight: 221 lbs.
Face/Heel Status: He is what you would call a "tweener," holding a neutral position with the locker room. To his fans however, he could be classified as a face, but by NO means a babyface.
Theme Music: "Cult Leader" by Tech N9ne
Gimmick: What is to be known about Lekkter? Not much. What is known about him is that he can be considered as nothing less than chaos itself...
...a lunatic.
The embodiement of Murphy's Law: if it can go wrong, Lekkter can--and will--make it go wrong for anyone he feels like bringing the inconvience towards.
Pic Base: Here is a link that can best describe Lekkter's appearance: ts3.mm.bing.net/th?id=H.4630864683795582&pid=1.7&w=121&h=155&c=7&rs=1
Detailed Appearance (out of the ring): Lekkter's appearance, while not changing much in the ring as opposed to out of it, is a key way to really understand what's going on in his mind. He has an array of different tattoos over his body, the most noticable ones are the ones on either of his forearms: On his left forearm, he has the word "Respect" in sandscript cursive, stretching from his elbow to his wrist. On the right forearm, he has the word "Hostility" written in scratched out chiller-style font. These two words form one of his favortie catch phrases..."Respect Hostility."
His tatoo on his back is a mural-like picture, depicting the seven deadly sins in human form. Each sin is represented by a person, acting out said sin; on his left shoulderblade is a seductive woman in a scantily clad red dress, below her is the word "lust." On his right shoulderblade is a close up of lightning shooting from a man's hand, and in his veins is the word "wrath." On the lower left side of the back by the kidney area is the picture of an overweight, sloppy man with the word "gluttony" written underneath him; on the right side directly across is a man sitting over a large pile of money, raking it in with his arms. Right next to him is another man, staring over the greedy one's shoulder, staring at the pile of money, his eyes as green as the bills. Above their heads you see the words "greed" and "envy," respectively. In the middle of the small of his back, in between the "gluttony" and "greed" pictures is a picture of a drunken man, outstreched and asleep. Under him is the word "sloth." And finally, stretching from shoulder to shoulder, above the "lust" and "wrath" pictures, is a picture of a muscular, powerful looking man sitting in the clouds, arms crossed, signifying the word which is inscribed in the clouds he sits in: "Pride." These are his most notable tatoos, however, he does have many more, including the word "Hurricane" written over a picture of a doppler radar of the eye of a hurricane; this tatoo strectches across his abdomen.
His physical build isnt that of a superhero, but he does keep himself in shape. He has a build very similar to Raven (sans WCW when he lead the Flock) but with a more cut and slim definition. He has NUMEROUS scars from either fighting or pulling a stupid and dangerous stunt. His most notable are the marks on his face: he has a deep scar that stretches across his face, from the bottom left corner of his left eye, across the bridge of his nose and to his right cheek. He got this from a piece of glass from a window pane, which he shattered with, well, his face. He also has self inflicted scars that run from the corners of his mouth to the bottom of his cheekbones, very similar to The Joker from "the Dark Knight."
On his body are an assortment of cuts and scars from his escapades, including another deep scar that runs from his left pectoral muscle across his torso--which actually cuts through his "Hurricane" tatoo--to his right hip. Other than that one, however, they are just minor cuts and scrapes that go relatively unnoticed.
He has a very unique style when it comes to his apparel. He normally just wears black jean shorts, but the color of his shorts do alternate, depending on his mood. He is also know to wear a random costume or outfit from time to time, just to throw off the audience. What is really unique about his apparel, however, is his shirts. Most of the time, they are tall black tee shirts with something random written on them in bold, white letters. Either its his "Respect Hostility" slogan, or something more funnier, like his other phrase, "KRAKK ROX -n- OTTER POPZ," or "THUNDERLIPS AND KOOL AID!!!," niether of which make any sense, but have caught on heavily with his fan base.
His hair is always worn in long, thick dreadlocks, which are normally dyed light red or light green, but at times is dyed in other colors such as orange, purple, fuchia and blue. His actual hair color is assumed to be dark brown. He, at times, wears facial hair--a light goatee and thin sideburns that stretch down his jawline and meet with the goatee--that he keeps his actual color.
His actual eye color is a mystery as well, although it is believed to be green. He wears different color contact lenses that cover his real eye color. The color of the contact coordinates with the color of his hair at the time, which coordinates with the color of his apparel at the time. The design of the contacts range from cat's eyes to completely colored in around the iris...much like "whited out" contacts. For a crazy person, Lekkter is actually very good at keeping himself in order appearance-wise.
Detailed Appearance (In the ring): His in ring gear is not to far off from what he wears outside of the ring. He simply takes his shirt off and wrestles in his jean shorts. He does wear black kneepads, which do not change in color. He also wears a knee brace on his left knee, due to an injury suffered in an ill advised jump off a two story building. He also wears standard black elbow pads, and calf-high wrestling boots, which are also black. He heavily tapes his fists before every match, up past his wrists, almost covering the bottom pieces of his forearm tatoos.
He wears an occasional smear of facepaint to the ring, normally color-coordinating with his apparel. Normally, its a cross, the vertical line running from the middle of his forehead, down to his chin; the horizontal line running from cheek to cheek. He also would have two acute triangles, painted upside down underneath each of his eyes, that run across his cheekbones and reach a point on his chin.
Personality: LeKKter is usually a humourous--albiet frustrating--person. However, whenever something happens, whether it be a spoken word from an enemy or an action that triggers it, he tends to quickly become entranced by a psychotic and VERY violent mind state. When this happens, it's always best to keep clear of LeKKter. He always snaps out of his trance, eventually, to no real recollection of his actions while underneath said spell. This makes him a VERY dangerous person at ANY time.
Titles? Fame? Bah! That is normally his thought process in regards to those things. Yes, he has a cult following, and his motley crue of myrimidons follow him to the Earth's end. But, outside of that, he has no real interest in "accolades." Sure, if given the chance to, he will rip heads off for a championship or a shot at one. However, he has been known to sacrifice his own titles, matches, alliances, etc. in order to satisfy his inner need for unruly anarchy. If I were to compare him to anyone, attitude-wise, it would be to the old heel version of "Rowdy" Roddy Piper. Most would say to leave this man alone, but that in itself proves to be of great difficulty, as it is hard to ignore what doesnt care to be ignored...so to speak.
Brief Bio: Like previously mentioned, not much is known about Lekkter's personal life, except he was born 26 years ago in the Haight-Ashbury district of San Francisco, California...which may be able to shine some light on exactly how he became who he is today (those familiar with this paticular area would be able to understand where I'm coming from much better than those that aren't. Long story short, Haight-Ashbury is a "hippie-ville" where hallucinogenics and craizees run rampant.)
At a young age, for some reason, Lekkter enjoyed watching wrestling. He became so enamored with it, that at age 19, he finally took the extra step and signed up for lessons at local wrestling schools throughout the Bay Area. It was here where he was dubbed "Tha Lunatik," due to his facination with "extreme" style wrestling, and his determination to master it. However, his aggressive and wild style forced him out of many wrestling schools which didn't condone the usage of "extreme" tactics in wrestling. He was kicked out of many of them because of his refusal to abandon his styles and focus more on traditional style wrestling, as well as him performing DANGEROUS moves on his fellow pupils, causing injury to more than a few of them.
After gaining a reputation as a "lunatic," and a "dangerous" wrestler, he began to wash his hands to training in a traditional wrestling school, and began teaching himself on the fly--a skill in which he utilizes during his matches VERY often. However, not being trained in some form of combat just wasn't going to be enough for Lekkter, so he started attending martial arts dojos, specifically of the Hawaiian Kaji-Kenpo, Brazilian Ju Jit-su and Muai Thai Kickboxing type (the latter he has mastered. The previous two are seondary. He is VERY dangerous with his feet.) There, he met his "best friend," (at least to him) Seth Azeroth, who is the "yin" to Lekkter's "yang." As where Lekkter is off-the-hook insane at times, Seth is the opposite; the cooler head to prevail where Lekkter fails to do so. If it wasn't for Seth Azeroth, Lekkter wouldn't know where his SHOES are, let alone be able to compete in professional wrestling.
Lekkter has been training in martial arts for the past six or so years, beginning at age 20 until now. He doesnt utilize these skill as much as you would think he would in his matches, opting to always defer to his home grown passion of hardcore style fighting. He has traveled to many different places around the world, competing in Japan and Mexico for a stretch of time, as well as a plethora of indy federations throughout the states. Never, though, has he ever taken a shot at a big time promotion, because he assumes that his "reputation" will become a hinderance to him signing with anyone notable. Azeroth, however, has recently become a "manager" of sorts for Lekkter, getting him tryouts for the top companies in the industry. Hopefully, this will be the last stop for Lekkter for the time being, but honestly, who knows.
Style: Completely unorthodox. As previously mentioned, Lekkter has mastered the skill of learing on the "fly"; to elaborate, he can study his opponent in the ring, and pick up on his move arsenal. The result of this is him being VERY difficult to attack, as he is good at countering and using momentum against opponents (due to his Kenpo and Ju Jit-su background) and telegraphing attacks. He also has a unique way of mimicking moves, turning them into his own...and he uses all of these tactics A LOT. He has an advanced grasp on traditional style wrestling as well (it never was said he didnt pay attention in those wrestling schools he attended, he just was a disruptance..) including various suplexes, slams and others, but he has--and always will be--classified as a hardcore wrestler.
Playing second and third fiddle to hardcore, however, is his utilization of submission moves, especially chokeholds and leg locks, and his aerial, daredevil-like tactics. His martial arts training plays a huge factor in his preferred submission maneuvers, and it shows. If he can't knock his opponent out for the 1-2-3, he WILL resort to locking them up in a hold. Big opponents or small, he has a hold for them all. He also relies on his insane style of aerial assaults, jumping off of almost anything in order to hurt his opponents.
Entrance:
The lights dim to an almost complete darkness...low, thick tufts of smoke form on the floor at the main entrance and on the stage area...
"Cult Leader? Hehehe..." the words from Tech N9ne start up the track, followed by the blare of the opening trumpets of the song. After the inital diatribe by Tech N9ne is over, the song "Cult Leader" kicks in, loudly blaring through the P.A. speakers.
"In this house there is no room for envy, this is why we wear our uniform!
Racist not welcome! Rapist not welcome! Hatred, dreaded in this house!
Ready to fight hatred with love? Join us!"
*BOOM!!!*
Pyro blasts from both sides of the stage as the song kicks in...moments later, a figure appears, lurking in the smoky entrance way. And from out the smoke steps Lekkter tha Lunatik. Lekkter peers out into the crowd for a moment as the opening lines of the chorus to the song play out. As the second stanza of the song hits, secondary pyro fires into the sky from the stage area, causing smoke to billow down the ramp. In unison with this, Lekkter leaps into the air, yelling at the top of his lungs, and bounds onto the ramp, and makes his way to the ring...
Lekkter slowly drags himself to the ring, taunting the fans in the aisle way area as he does so. He approaches the ring, grabbing the middle rope, and pulls himself up onto the apron. Then, he slides himself into the ring on his back, and kips up quickly, before jogging to the nearby turnbuckle and ascending it. He raises his arms in the air, soaking in his reaction, before moving to the adjacent corner, and perching himself up on the top turnbuckle, and awaits his opponent.
Finishing Moves:
1.) Revoke Existance (Similar to Gail Kim's "Eat Da Feet," Lekkter short-arm irish whips his opponent, and on the comeback, Lekkter places his foot along the jawline of his opponent. While still holding his opponent's arm, he falls backwards onto his back, driving his foot into opponent's jaw.)
2.) Tha Str8 Jacket (Bob Backlund's Crossface Chicken-wing...note: this is Lekkter's favorite move to hit, as he can lock it on at almost any angle, running or standing (he prefers running), or as a counter, and on big or small opponents. ALWAYS watch for this move.)
Signature Moves:
1.) The Face Lift (Super Kick...note: this move is used suddenly, there is NO forewarning of this coming. It is usually used on bigger opponents as a finisher, or to set up the Str8 Jacket.)
2.) Beldigo (Cradle Shock Drop)
3.) The "KABOSH" Kick (Running Enziguri ala Alberto Del Rio)
Basic Moveset:
Strikes
1.) Snap kick to body or head.
2.) Trapping headbutts
3.) Superman Punch
4.) Shuffling Side Kick
5.) Palm Shots to the body
6.) Roundhouse Kick
7.) Hard Elbow Smash (similar to Wade Barrett's "Bullhammer" elbow)
8.) Trouble in Paradise kick (or the Ernest Miller's "Feliner" kick)
10.) Quick Combinations of jabs and kicks to the body and head (used when opponent is trapped in corner.)
Aerial
1.) Flying Headscissors
2.) Hurricanrana (top rope or standing)
3.) Asai Moonsault (from random heights)
4.) Corkscrew Plancha (from random heights)
5.) 450 Shooting Star Press
6.) Guillotine Legdrop
7.) The Blockbuster (Buff Bagwell's old finisher)
8.) Missile Dropkick
9.) Senton Splash
10.) Flying Headbutt
Suplexes and Slams
1.) Fisherman's Suplex
2.) T Bone Suplex
3.) Belly-to-Back Suplex
4.) Belly-to-Belly Suplex
5.) German Suplex (preferred to hit while running)
6.) Exploder Suplex
7.) Snap Suplex
8.) Powerslam (ala Randy Orton)
9.) Sidewalk Slam
10.) Black Hole Slam (on smaller opponents)
DDTs, Drivers and Drops
1.) Reverse DDT (Stinger Death Drop)
2.) Tornado DDT (Dudely Dog)
3.) Implant DDT (ala Edge or Gangrel)
4.) Double armed DDT (ala Mick Foley)
5.) Russian Leg Sweep
6.) STO
7.) Osaka Street Cutter (Vertical Suplex Stunner...or "Rolling Stunner")
8.) Burning Hammer (ala Kenta Kobashi)
9.) Flatliner (or the Stroke OR the Mic Check)
10.) Falcon Arrow
11.) Side Effect (ala Matt Hardy)
12.) Twist of Fate Jawbreaker (Ala Jeff Hardy)
13.) Michenoku Driver (ala TAKA Michenoku)
14.) Hanging Brainbuster (ala Austin Aries, but with a hangtime, rather than straight up and down.)
15.) Death Valley Driver (Ala Perry Saturn)
Submissions
1.) Elevated Texas Cloverleaf (ala Dean Malenko)
2.) Sharpshooter (ala Brett Hart)
3.) Figure Four Leg Lock (ala Ric Flair)
4.)Anaconda Vise (ala CM Punk)
5.) Grapevine Ankle Lock (ala Kurt Angle)
6.) Grapevine Guillotine Chokehold
7.) Rear Naked Choke (ala Samoa Joe)
8.) Hangman's Choke from top rope (similar to Guillotine choke, but standing, and with Lekkter sitting on the top turnbuckle.)
9.) Gogoplata Choke (aka Undertaker's "Hell's Gate")
10.) Triangle Choke
11.) Cross Armbar (ala Alberto Del Rio)
12.) Crippler Crossface (or the NO! Lock, ala Chris Benoit/Daniel Bryan)
13.) Elevated Boston Crab (The LIONTAMER, NOT The Walls of Jericho...there's a difference.)
14.) Mexican Surfboard
15.) Tequila Sunrise (ala Konan)
16.) STF (ala John Cena)
17.) Cobra Clutch
18.) Tazzmission
19.) Single leg Boston Crab (ala Lance Storm)
20.) Tongan Death Grip (ala Meng)
Sample RP:
"I'm just saying, you need to do something to occupy your time..."
Fade in...as the camera adjusts to its surroundings, you get a bird's eye view of our main subject, Lekkter tha Lunatik, stretched out over a long leather reclining chair; much like you would see in a psychiatrist's office, used for patients. His hands are folded in behind his head, as his head rests on them. He is glaring at the ceiling, with a look of disinterest spread across his face as the unknown voice continues...
"You need to find something...constructive...to do with your time. Otherwise, you are going to continue to get caught up in these...undesirable...situations; either with some OTHER maniac which could put you in a dangerous position, or the law is going to track you down again. Then, the judge is going to once again hand you these mandatory meetings with your psychiatrist, in an attempt to "normalize" you and "calm" you down...although that seems impossible."
As the person--who is now percieved to be a therapist of some sort--continues, the camera shoots around the room, examining the scenery. We come upon a wide, panoramic shot of a desk in the middle of the room, and the things on top of the table: a couple pictures of people...possibly family members. A little plant of sorts that "decorates" the desk. A computer screen in the middle of the table blocks your view of the person behind the desk, but a nameplate lays in behind the screen, at the edge of the table that reads "Dr. Rouser Schleshinger, M.D." which gives us the identity of the person behind the table. The camera shoots back to Lekkter, who sits up in the chair, now with a confused and bewildered look on his face as he speaks...
"Wait, don't you get PAID to have me here, looking at the cieling?" said Lekkter.
"Well, I suppose there is a monetary aspect to this, yes..." replied Dr. Schleshinger.
"Well, what are you bitching about, then? Come to think of it, I don't even know how the judge allowed me to see you. I don't even think you're a real shrink."
"Well, I've never been so insulted..."
"I don't see how that offends you. After all, I met you at a RAVE. And not one of those pansy ass 'club scene' raves, either. I met you at an illegal, underground, lights-pills-and candy kids rubbin all over eachother rave. I mean, really...the party was at a place called the 'Crackhouse.' Ya know why it was called that? Because, after further observation upon arriving there, it looked like a GENUINE crackhouse! Plus, look at all of your certificates...they look like they were printed out off the internet."
"My credentials are full fledged, 100 percent legitimate!"
"Mmmmkay, if you say so."
"I'll have you know, I attended Stanford!"
"As what? A janitor? Look, just cause you have a cool looking Sherlock Holmes tobacco pipe, wear glasses and sweater vests and use big, uneccessairily complex words when you talk to people does NOT make you a shrink. Dude."
"Look, we are not here to challenge the validity of my achievements OR my occupation--"
"Or lack thereof..."
"Or lack thereof--hey! That's uncalled for, sir!"
Lekkter smirks to himself. He stands up out of his seat, and paces around the room for a moment before leaning up against a bookcase, and reaching into his pocket. He pulls out a pack of Camel cigarettes, and pulls one out of the pack, and puts it into his mouth. He reaches back into his pocket, and pulls out a zippo, and strikes it. He lights his cigarette, and takes a deep drag, holds it momentarily, and exhales, letting the smoke flow from his nose.
"Can I smoke in here, 'Doc?'" Lekkter asks the Doctor.
"Ummm...this IS the state of California, so technically--"
"Right on, Doc! Thanks a bunch for looking the other way while I light up. Praise Allah that you ain't a real doctor, ya know...otherwise, you would be all uptight about this."
"Right. Whatever. Be my guest. Hell, I'll join you."
"Cool beans...smoke em up!"
Dr. Schlesinger goes into his desk, and grabs his "Sherlock Holmes" pipe and tobacco and packs the bowl. He strikes a wooden match, and places it to the bowl, and takes a few sharp puffs from it. He exhales the smoke, and leans back in his chair and continues the conversation...
"Ok, listen, because this is serious. I have been talking with your good friend, Seth Azeroth, and he came up with a great idea that will keep you out of trouble as well as help you exert some of that aggressive energy that you have been carrying around."
"Yeah? What exactly is this ingenious plan?"
"We have scheduled a try out for one of today's premiere wrestling franchises in the business: Premium Championship Wrestling. In today's world, MMA has taken the bulk of the audience that follows wrestling, resulting in a down trend in wrestling, and a loss of overall popularity. But, this company is one of the exceptions to the rule; probably the most successful company from a group of very few organizations...two to three at the most. This company has proven that they are one of the big dogs in this business, and we were very fortunate to be able to provide this oppurtunity for you. And, with your martial arts background, as well as a history of extreme wrestling going for you, you can bring EVEN MORE popularity to their already flourishing product; maybe even bring back some of those fans that left pro wrestling for UFC and the like. I can just imagine--"
"Shut...the fuck...up....Doc." Lekkter interjected.
"I'm sorry?"
"You heard me...shuddap!! Wrestling passed me by long ago. Seth can tell you, those company big wigs want NO parts of me, and it has been proven. Hence the reason I spent three to four years scrounging around the indy leagues. Now, you're telling me, that one of the biggest wrestling promotions in the world wants to give me a try out? Well, I call BALDERDASH!!"
"Where did you learn the word 'balderdash?'"
"I heard it on a British soap opera...mind your business."
"I don't think you even know what 'balderdash' means."
"NONSENSE!!!"
"Well, yeah...actually. You're correct."
"What did I do correctly?"
"You told me the definition...nonsense."
"DONT YOU INSULT ME!!!"
"Lekkter....I..."
Epic staredown
"Can we move on?" The doctor asks.
"To what? There's nothing to discuss! Pro wrestling and me are not exactly on speaking terms right now. And I really don't care if it EVER CALLS ME AGAIN!!!"
"Lekkter, you're being extremely unreasonable. Let's try to look at this in a positive light, and stop being so goddamn difficult!"
"Are you allowed to swear at me like that? My ears are VERY SENSITIVE!!!"
"I see what you are doing here; quit trying to distract me by changing the subject. This isn't about me, it's about you, and the NEED for you to do something other than make everything and everyone around you miserable. And yes, I can curse all I want.
Now, on to the subject at hand...can you even fathom the things I needed to do and favors I had to call in for this to come to fruition?"
"Well, I'm sorry that you had to place a large amount of penis in your palms in order for me to get invited to do something I dont fucking want to do, and I appreciate it...I guess. But, the fact remains the same: I don't fucking wanna wrestle anymore!"
"Okay...I am tired of this. This is what is going to happen..."
"Are you issuing an ultimatium, Schlesinger?"
"You could say that. According to my records, you are on formal probation for the next year and a half. Meaning, that if your P.O. gets word that you are not only unemployed, but you are NOT trying to look for work, nor are you really complying with you COURT ORDERED MANDATORY PSYCHIATRIST MEETINGS--"
"What? How am I not complying?"
"You really think any progress has been made in the last three months, Lekkter? No, there hasn't, and I can easily report that to your P.O. too."
"Awww man...he's a dick and a half, too."
"Well, that being said, if he finds all of this out, I don't see anything stopping him from violating you right there on the spot. And then guess who will be in a correctional facility by nightfall?"
"Ummm...you?"
"Hilarious. No...YOU."
"Oh."
"In order to prevent that, you need a job."
"I dont wanna fucking wrestle..." Lekkter muttered under his breath as he pouts in the corner.
"FINE! We will look into something else. What skills do you have?"
"Ermm...uhhh....ummm....I can do a backflip!"
"I mean vocational skills...something that can help you get ahead in the work force. Can you type?"
"Hehe....naw."
"Are you good with computers at all?"
"I can access youtube and facebook...that's it. OH, and porn...LOTS and LOTS of porn. All kinds too..."
"That's lovely. Won't help you get a job, but still...anyway, do you have any experience with anything?"
Lekkter begins pacing again, puffing on his cigarette as he contemplates to himself, until it reaches the butt. Then, suddenly, he flicks the still lit cigarette butt into the air, ricocheting off the cieling, and landing directly into the doctor's lap. Dr. Schlesinger reacts quickly, brushing the butt off of his lap as a hole burns into his pants. Orange cinders go flying eveywhere, including some sticking to the doctors hand and burning him. He winces to himself as he successfully puts the butt out, and looks at Lekkter with utter exasperation in his eyes.
"IVE GOT IT!!"
"What...is it, Lekkter?" the doctor says with a deep sigh.
"I know how to...nope, never mind. Damn, what the hell AM I good at?"
"A question that baffles even the most intellectual of minds..."
"Shit! This is a helluva smack to the face. I just realized something...the only thing I HAVE been good at was...punching faces."
"Exactly...I wouldn't put it that way during your interview, but yes, that's an accurate statement."
"And, punching faces is only really condoned inside of a ring. I mean, I can punch faces at a lawyer's office or a dry cleaners, but I dont think they would keep me on the payroll for long if I start doing that. Not to mention, I'd probably go to jail or something."
"It's amazing how common sense tends to play hide and seek with your brain, Lekkter. And just when you're about to yell 'Olly Olly Ox-n-Free!,' you spot it, poking it's head out from the bushes."
"What?"
"Nothing...nevermind."
"Right on! Anyway, the more I think about this whole pro wrestling thing, the more it seems to be my...destiny, of sorts."
"I wouldn't say it was destiny, just yet. More like your only outlet that will keep you from scrutiny."
"Whatever the case may be, I think I'm in!"
"THANK YOU! Finally, some progress. And you say I'm not a real shrink!"
"Your certificates are signed with colored pencil...things like that draw a few red flags."
Epic staredown, part two...after a moment of ice cold silence, Lekkter breaks it, and continues speaking...
"Premium Championship Wrestling...hmmm...I've heard of you guys before. I know that the PCW is on the top of the food chain in regards to this business. I know of your rich legacy, and I know that when it comes down to making a decision as to who to sign with, this is a no brainer. I know all of this, and I acknowledge it.
"I also know that you--and others like you--have avoided me and my type for years, out of fear that your image may be tarnished by the likes of a person like me. I'm different...and difficult to deal with on a professional level at times. I admit this. And federations like YOU have always given me the cold shoulder because of this...
"This has jaded me heavily throughout the years. Pretty much to the point where I began to lose confidence in my abilities, although it was clear as day that I possess some of the most intriguing skills that you will ever come across. My dedication, as iron willed as it was in the past, seemed to become as scarred as my body has become from years of abuse. The end result is what you see here: a man who rebels against the mainstream and all of it's images, including the 'mainstream' versions of professional wrestling, that being you...the PCW.
"Ya know, if it wasn't for this quack of a doctor over here--"
"HEY!!!"
"--then I wouldn'tve even contemplated coming back to the squared circle ever again. And I would be fine with that. But, like Dr. Rouser over here just explained, I am in need of something meaningful....and something that will give me money for beer and what not. And, this is what I am truly good at: fighting. Knocking people, and things--animals, inanimate objects, et ectera--the FUCK out. And this is the place I can do that...legally, anyway.
"So, I have been talked into it...I'm accepting your little try out. My hopes are not up in any way, but I will say this: I will be prepared, ready, willing and able to demonstrate to all of the PCW...from the executives, to the fans, to the locker room...hell even to the goddamn peanut vendors in the arenas...that I am--and always have been--the catalyst of excellence. I am the one that has been overlooked by the powers that be for TOO LONG! And that time has finally come to a long awaited conclusion. Now, its time to get back into full force mode...
It's time to get psychotic...
You are all forewarned...I am approaching you all with intent to do harm. And when you see me on the horizon, know that it will only be a matter of time before I am in the faces of all who make the mistake and oppose me. And when the days comes in which it happens, you will all have on your hands a storm...a fucking category five hurricane, damaging EVERYTHING in it's path. You will fucking SEE why I have always been considered a VERY VERY dangerous specimen.
There's a reason why I am called 'the Lunatik.' Care to find out? Then allow me to demonstrate."
An alarm from an alarm clock sounds off. The doctor clicks it off, and looks at Lekkter.
"Your tryout is scheduled for tomorrow, 9:00 A.M."
"9:00? JEBUS!!"
"Don't you be late. Talk to Azeroth...he has all the details for you. For now, your time is up for the day. I am sure your P.O. will be happy to hear of your decision."
"God, I hate that guy..."
Lekkter reaches for another cigarette, and lights it up. The cherry glows as he takes a deep drag and exhales.
"See ya next week, Doc."
The scene fades away as Lekkter leaves the office.
