Post by gzavadak on Sept 25, 2013 6:52:17 GMT -5
Throughout history, whenever wars are studied and examined, it always seems that the onus lies far more on the commanders. Those who plan the strategies, determine the best places to put troops, and all their other assorted duties. And while commanding is a task that is only meant for a select few, you often tend to forget that without the nameless and faceless soldiers that make up their armies, that famous general or admiral would never have been able to win their particular power struggle against their enemies.
It’s not something that is hard to do. After all, the foremost purpose any soldier serves is to take orders, and to do whatever it takes to make sure that said orders are carried out. But, not every soldier is just another valueless golem that gets handed a rifle or a sword. Some of these brave men and women serve because they choose to serve, whether it’s out of a sense of loyalty to their home country or ruler, or out of pure, unbridled devotion in the cause a war may revolve around. They make the cognizant decision to take orders so that their greater purpose may be accomplished.
So it is with a certain soldier in the Most High’s ongoing war against sin, not just throughout the professional wrestling industry, but through the entire world. Deacon Jeremiah Robinson had served at the side of the Reverend Jerry Matthews for what seemed like an eternity, and never once had he questioned an order given to him from the man that he felt had saved him from the fiery furnaces of hell. Whether it was the fans of Premium Championship Wrestling, EXODUS Pro Wrestling, or even the SHOOT Project, there had seldom been a time where the good Reverend was seen without his right hand man. They had seen the Deacon interfere in any number of matches ever since “The Evangelist” had renewed his holy crusade. But, never once had any of these fans ever stopped to ask that one burning question: was the Deacon merely just one of those pawns sent off to war, or did he hold the same convictions of Jerry Matthews with just as much of a fiery zeal?
For the Deacon, this couldn’t have been an easier question to answer. Especially when he thought back to that fateful night when he truly began to understand what the mission he had signed up for was all about.
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Needless to say, the Deacon’s childhood years were a bit tumultuous, all the more reason he had tried so long to purge them from his memory. He was raised in one of the roughest housing tenements that Birmingham had to offer, all by a single mother who had no idea who his father could’ve been. Unfortunately, she had been a high school dropout with little to no marketable skills, leaving her potential fields of occupation extremely limited so to speak. While he had little doubt that she did in fact love him in her own way, that didn’t mean that he could forgive her.
That’s because Tamia Robinson had taken up prostitution as her career of choice. The hours she kept were long and strange, some of the men she brought back to their humble home even stranger. The number of times he had been told to keep himself occupied until mommy had “finished” with her particular client of the night was countless. The number of times he had lied awake in bed, afraid that she wouldn’t make it home had been larger still. This woman, hardly responsible enough to take care of herself, was all that young Jeremiah had. How his life proceeded next couldn’t have been more predictable.
You see, Jeremiah wasn’t the only youth with a troubling situation that lived in that housing tenement. In fact, over time, he began to make fast friends with many of the other children that lived there. But, none more so than Darnell. Darnell lived in the apartment across the hall from Jeremiah, and he came from very similar circumstances. While he knew both of his parents, Darnell would hardly have called this a blessing. Throughout his youth, he was forced to watch his father take out all of his frustrations on his mother, to the point where he had even intervened and received a healthy trip to the wood shed for his troubles. Upon meeting Jeremiah, the two couldn’t have identified anymore with each other.
As the two young men matured, they spared no expense when it came to making poor choices. They knocked off liquor stores, mini-marts and gas stations. They smashed out car windows so they could make off with radios. They broke into abandoned houses and tore out the pipes, all for the scrap money. Without a loving environment for either of them to go home to, they felt there were no consequences for any of their actions. The sad thing is, neither of them were incorrect.
And on they continued, each of them expanding their crime-committing repertoire as time passed. The jobs got bigger accordingly. But, none was bigger than the one fateful night that Darnell and two other hired guns did the deed. The job had gone off without a hitch, and yet Jeremiah couldn’t have helped but feel that something was amiss. A few moments later, his uneasiness came to pass. He received a bullet lodged in his thigh, had the entire evidence of the heist stashed on his person, and was thrown out of a speeding car for his troubles.
He had lied there in the middle of the street for what seemed like hours that night, clutching his thigh as jolts of continuous and excruciating pain. Knowing that police pursuit wouldn’t be far behind, he had headed for the first building he could find for sanctuary. And, oh, what irony it was when he walked into Birmingham First Baptist Church. And that a certain, supposed holy man was the one that offered him quarters in his time of need.
Not only had the stranger helped Jeremiah experience an epiphany that set his life in a new direction, but he had done everything else for him. He had fed him, clothed him, and made sure that his wound was cleaned regularly. But, most importantly, he had educated Jeremiah on the good news of the Gospels, of how God’s love was endless and knew no bounds despite humanity’s inherently sinful nature, and taught him about becoming an embodiment of the Father’s ministry on earth. Not in the normal sense, however. This pastor’s message had been different from any other. In his book, it was okay to take revenge on your enemies, as long as they were paying for all of their earthly sins.
Six months passed with this being the norm, until the time came for Jeremiah to take his rightful place alongside his new mentor in the field. They had traveled to the exact same housing tenement that Jeremiah had cursed for so long, and lo and behold, Darnell had never left. Darnell had answered the door, confused as hell to find a man claiming to be a preacher offering to tell him about the Bible and all of its stories. Of course, Darnell had attempted to rebuff the unwanted company, but failed when his door was kicked in.
Darnell awoke to find himself tied and bound to one of his own kitchen chairs, in addition to the sight of his childhood friend that he had so cold-heartedly sold out. His eyes grew as big as a pair of full moons, and he had whimpered in shame, unable to properly beg for mercy for want of the gag that served to silence him. His attempts to escape were fruitless, and soon Jeremiah found himself holding a tent stake over his head, ready to plunge it into his former friend’s heart. To finally get the justice that had been robbed from him for so long. And, yet, Jeremiah found himself unable to comply with his mentor’s order. Memories of all the good times he had spent with his childhood friend began to flood his mind. Why should he, a former petty criminal and common street thug, be able to pass judgment so coldly?
The preacher man had not been happy with this reticence. He had invested a lot of time, energy, and teaching on this prospective new student, and he wasn’t about to let it all go to waste. That’s when he had decided to kick the sleeping bear, to remind Jeremiah of all the pain and anguish that his former friend’s betrayal had put him through. And, before you knew it, Jeremiah had screamed to the highest of the heavens, and pierced Darnell’s skull clean open with the stake. Jeremiah had passed the test, albeit with a little assistance.
That was the moment, the moment that Jeremiah Robinson became the Deacon and submitted himself to a lifetime of service in the army of the One True God.
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The scene opens to the backstage area of the Xcel Energy Center, where stationed in front of a banner advertising Saturday Night Rapture stands a strategically placed pulpit. Behind the pulpit, in a strange twist, is Deacon Jeremiah Robinson. He is wearing a black, pinstriped suit, his eyes concealed by his trademark shades. He looks a little uneasy standing behind the pulpit, and it would seem that these feelings are warranted. He could count the number of times he had delivered a message on one hand. Nevertheless, he looks into the camera and begins to speak.
Deacon Jeremiah: Allow me to begin, my friends, by apologizing for what you’ll no doubt perceive to be the raw nature of my sermon. I kindly ask that you forgive me in advance, for you see, while I have a more than accomplished record as a manager and bodyguard, I’m afraid that I lack the Reverend Matthews’ mastery of language and public speaking.
The Deacon steps away from the pulpit for a second and slowly bows to show his sincerity before returning to his previous position.
Deacon Jeremiah: For years, I’ve had the pleasure of serving the Reverend Jerry Matthews in whatever capacity he deems necessary. Whether it’s collecting the rather paltry donations that the remarkably few faithful decide to gift to our ministry, standing at ringside to ensure that no foul play occurs, or even occasionally helping him get a crucial win. If you need any proof of that, just ask Ryan “The Reaper” Robinson how it felt when his vile eyes were blinded by some of the Good Lord’s holy water.
The Deacon laughs at the memory of his mentor defending the Platinum Championship at Battle Finale III.
Deacon Jeremiah: But, recently, I have been called on to serve in a fashion I never thought would come to pass, and that is by stepping into the squared circle. I harbor no illusions about my abilities, I’ve had little to no training, but that’s not what’s important. What is important is that I have been called upon to play a vital part in the plans of the good Reverend Matthews’s ministry going forward. And, rest assured, my friends, I will go above and beyond to answer this call to duty. Because, you see, years ago, I came to realize the purpose God the Father had set out for me in my life, and that was the happiest day that I can imagine. It is a day that will only be surpassed when His one and only begotten Son, Jesus Christ the Lord and Savior, is reborn and comes again to establish his kingdom once and for all on earth. And may his reign be long, fruitful and glorious.
The Deacon crosses himself at the mention of the Messiah.
Deacon Jeremiah: Ever since that fateful night when I walked into the sanctuary of Birmingham First Baptist Church, the Reverend Matthews has bent over backwards for me and then some. I owe that man my life, on two counts. Not only did he save me from an unenviable fate in solitary confinement, but he also helped me to realize the perpetual evil that pervades the very psyche of man. And that man himself is to blame for all the troubles that ail him. Father, for that, I thank you.
Again, the Deacon crosses himself.
Deacon Jeremiah: Which is why I will serve alongside the Reverend until the day when I’m finally called to take my rightful place at the Lord’s table for the rest of time. And that most definitely includes this edition of Saturday Night Rapture, when the two of us square off against “The Aussie Psycho” Curtis Wilkes and Yoshiru Long, or as they like to call themselves, the Elite.
The Deacon pauses and begins to shake his head back and forth.
Deacon Jeremiah: My friends, allow yourselves a moment to let that fact soak in. That two men would be able to summon the gall and intestinal fortitude to refer to themselves in such a way. As if they were gods among men. Anyone who has read the Good Book knows of the fate that awaits such wicked and evil men.
The Deacon reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls a Bible. He holds it up to the camera and slams it down on the pulpit.
Deacon Jeremiah: Granted, these are two of the greatest competitors in the illustrious history of Premium Championship Wrestling. Between them, you have two PCW World Heavyweight championship reigns and a PCW Platinum title reign. On top of being one of the most formidable and effective alliances to ever walk down that aisle. While each of them possess untold amounts of talent, they fail to acknowledge how it was all made possible, through the good graces of the Lord God. For, it was He who created all men, including both Wilkes and Long, and allowed them to share in the successes that they have, both individually and as a duo. Neither one of them has ever even thought to offer a single word of thanks or gratitude, especially Curtis who is content to spew the garbage philosophies of atheism, denying the certain truth of God’s existence. And that, my friends, couldn’t be a bigger shame.
Again, the Deacon begins to shake his head back and forth.
Deacon Jeremiah: But, even those who proclaim their own greatness from the highest hill they can find can be knocked down. It was with this in mind that I nearly broke Curtis’s spine in half with a steel chair two weeks ago. It’s one thing to call yourself elite, but it’s another to let your pride lead you to your doom. So it will be for Curtis when he squares up with the Reverend Jerry Matthews at Anarchy.
“Perhaps Curtis will think twice the next time he decides to persecute my mentor and myself for our beliefs. Our belief in the Father, the Son, and of the Holy Spirit and all that the trinity stands for. This withstanding, Curtis Wilkes is only bruised, but not beaten, his back only slightly worse for wear. Which will no doubt lead him to walk down that aisle with all the intention of getting revenge. But, when all is said and done, Curtis will be left lying, his spine twisted into a useless heap.”
“Curtis, Yoshiru, I will leave you with one, and only one, warning. Do not underestimate my competence, or my devotion to the Lord’s work. While this may only be my third professional match, I’m more than able to handle myself. Just ask EXODUS Pro International Champion Johnny Cannon how he fared in our only encounter. I’ll give you a hint: that no-good womanizing alcoholic got hit with an upset that carried the same ferocity as a runaway freight train. And, just as Cannon fell at my hand, so shall both of you. For it has been foretold that the Elite shall suffer a titanic fall from grace. And it will be with great pleasure that I bring this fate to both of you on a silver platter.”
“Throughout my time in the Lord’s service, I’ve always looked at the odds, no matter how seemingly insurmountable they may become, and I know that the Lord’s blessings are the only weapons I shall ever need to overcome any challenge. One of God’s most trusted servants has already left his mark on PCW history. I think it’s time that PCW and I become better acquainted. Rest assured, “The Evangelist” and myself will make an appearance in St. Paul. And we shall come wielding flaming swords, cutting down all who would be foolish enough to step in our way, especially both members of the Elite. The Word of the Lord, Thanks Be to God.”
The Deacon collects his Bible and bows his head for a moment of prayer as the scene slowly fades to black.