1947

[Yoshiru Long]

OOC: Sorry for not having it formatted. Original RP was going to be longer (I had segments were Curtis Wilkes, Robert Patterson, and Gary Busey all were changing the storyline), but with the meds I'm on after surgery, I'm having troubles keeping awake. On a side note, it's sad to see PCW close. I have been toying with the idea of running a fed with the same format as PCW, but I'd definitely need match writers. Anyone interested, I'll post something in the OOC to see who all is interested. Thank you to everyone who is a part of PCW for making the fed what it is/was, and thank you to James for making the last couple of years fun. Will miss it.




I sat in my office, dimly lit by a lamp on my executive desk. The office wasn't extravagant in any manner. The wallpaper was peeling, the one window in the office was cracked nearly in half, and the bathroom left a lot to be desired. Not to mention the part of town that my office was located in wasn't exactly the best neighborhood. Hoodlums and gangbangers ran the streets. Prostitutes could be found on every corner, which for me was the only plus side of the location. There was a knock on the door, a silouette appearing behind the stain-glass. A moment later, the door slowly opened.

That's when she walked in. A slick blonde number in a skin tight red leather dress. She took small steps toward my desk, probably because the dress wouldn't allow her to spread her legs any further. She looked upon me with icy blue eyes and lucious red lips, which drew little attention from me considering her huge assets that rested a little bit lower. She was definitely a looker. She was the type of girl that you would kill a man for. Before she even spoke, I knew that I'd be taking her case.

She took a seat in front of my desk and instantly Sharon Stone'd me, much to my delight. Given her looks, it's always nice to know from the start that you won't be in for any “surprises”. I waited for her words, but it seemed like forever, her eyes looking in to mine, her smile mesmorizing. And then, I finally heard her first words.

Ms. Ravencroft: My eyes are up here...

Such beautiful words. “My eyes are up here”. The angels in the Heavens above couldn't have sounded sweeter. This dame was a real number. Although I found myself rather distracted by certain aspects of her presence, I really needed this gig. Not many travel out to this part of the city in search of a private eye. I set aside the pad in front of me, which apparently is where I began sketching her heavenly body, and I looked in to her eyes.

Yoshiru Long: How may I help you?

Ms. Ravencroft: I had a painting stolen from my mansion. I need you to find it.

Yoshiru Long: A painting?

Ms. Ravencroft: A valuable one. I went to Pittsburgh for an art exhibit over the weekend. When I returned, a priceless Monet that hung above the mantle in my living room was missing.

Yoshiru Long: Interesting. Any idea of who might have wanted to steal the painting?

Ms. Ravencroft: Do you think I would have came to you if I knew who stole it?

Yoshiru Long: Good point. What about your security system? I'm sure someone of your...apparent stature would have a top of the line security system installed.

Ms. Ravencroft: I do. And they found a way around it.

Yoshiru Long: Have you gone to the police?

Ms. Ravencroft: Of course. But a man of your “stature” has to know that the likelihood of the police finding the culpret is slim to none.

Yoshiru Long: Yes, you would be right about that.

Ms. Ravencroft: So, you'll take my case?

Yoshiru Long: Well, there are certain fees which need to be agreed upon.

Ms. Ravencroft: A thousand dollars a day, and fifty thousand dollars if you get my painting back.

Now, I'm not one to gush, but the amount that she was offering me was WELL over my normal fee. Not to mention, that's a lot of dough to buy a lot of bling. It would be nice to buy myself a new car. The rusted out '40 Dodge is a little outdated. I would take the case. Part of it, for the money of course. The other part...well, how could you say no with those things staring back at you!

Ms. Ravencroft: Umm...my eyes are still up here.

Damn tight red dress and cleavage! Get's me in trouble every time!

Yoshiru Long: Right, right. You've got a deal. And, what can I call you?

Ms. Ravencroft: Veronica.

Yoshiru Long: Alright, Veronica. I'll get started on your case right away in the morning.

Veronica pulled out a business card and handed it to me.

Ms. Ravencroft: All of my contact information is on there. If you get any information, don't hesitate to call.

Yoshiru Long: Of course.

She Sharon Stone'd me again! If I had known it was coming, I would have snapped a shot with my polaroid. Veronica rose up from the chair, as did I. As I put out my hand to shake hers, I noticed her eyes lower.

Ms. Ravencroft: Mr. Long, I think if you turn to the left, you'll knock over your lamp.

I looked down and an instant redness overcame me. I quickly sat down in my chair and once again extended my hand to her. She shook her head and gripped on to my hand, shaking it. She slowly and calculatedly walked to the door and exited, her hips swinging back and forth perfectly with the red dress form fitting to her body. No wonder I was “standing at attention”! She closed the door behind her as I took in a breath of her heavenly perfume.

I opened my eyes and looked over to my alarm clock. I grabbed the bottle of Cream of Kentucky sitting next to it, unscrewed the cap, and quickly took a swig. There's no better wake up call than a quick sip of the Cream. I set the bottle back on to the table with the alarm clock and sat up. A nice white dress shirt, black pants, a tan longer jacket with tails, and black suspenders rested on the chair in the corner of my room. After a quick yawn, a rotated out of bed and over to the clothes. I put all of the clothing on and walked over to the closet, pulling out a pair of black dress shoes. After putting on the shoes, I left the room and walked downstairs. I made my way in to the kitchen and opened the refridgerator. The fridge was nearly empty, only a box of baking soda, left-over chinese, and a carton of milk were inside. I grabbed the jar of milk and quickly took a swig. Just as quickly as I took the swig, I spit it out, it's sour taste and lumpy texture almost making me gag. I really needed this woman's money.

I set the jar on the counter and grabbed my keys off of the table. I grabbed a tan fedora off of a coat rack near the front door and put it on. As I left the house, I walked to the piece of shit black and rust car in my driveway. I pulled the handle to open the door, yanking on it but it wouldn't budge. I kicked the door before pulling one more time, the door violently swinging open as a result. After sitting in the driver's seat, I slammed the door shut and started up the beast...after the fifth try. My first stop, to see my old buddy Curtis Silkes. I sped away from my house and down the road, blasting some Frank Sinatra.

After a somewhat lengthy drive, I pulled up to the house and parked my piece of shit. Upon exiting the car and shutting the door, my driver's side mirror fell to the cement. Stupid fucking car! I walked up to the front door of the house and knocked, waiting for a response. After a short time, I saw the curtain through the glass being pushed aside, and Silkes looking out the window at me. He smirked, and quickly opened the door to let me in.

Curtis Silkes: Yosh! To what do I owe this pleasure?

Yoshiru Long: I have a new case.

Curtis Silkes: Let me guess, some unbelievably sexy dame wants you to help her?

Yoshiru Long: How'd you guess?

Curtis Silkes: Seems like they're about the only cases you take.

Yoshiru Long: Fair point.

Curtis Silkes: Well, come in! Sit down! You want some coffee?

Yoshiru Long: Sure.

I took a seat at Silkes' dining room table. He joined me soon after, setting a cup of coffee in front of me. He sat down across from me.

Yoshiru Long: I need your help.

Curtis Silkes: You do realize that I'm not on the force anymore, right?

There's a lot to know about Curtis Silkes. Actually, there's a lot to know about myself and Silkes. We used be a part of the New York Police Department. We were two of the greatest, quickly rising in the ranks. We found ourselves on the biggest cases, and getting the best results. That is, until about five years ago. We were assigned to security at the World Series. It was game four between the New York Yankees and the St. Louis Cardinals. 69, 902 fans were watching, and myself and Silkes were posted in the tunnels leading in to the stadium. Now, I wasn't there, so I'm not exact on the details, but I trust Silkes' account of the events. As he stood post, a shadowy figure started walking toward him. He told the figure to stop, believing that it could be a possible threat. The figure continued to walk toward Silkes, so Silkes pegged him in the shoulder. He quickly approaches to realize that he had just shot the Vice-President of the United States, Henry Wallace. Needless to say, Silkes found himself out of a job almost immediately.

After that, I found myself drowning in a sea of cocaine and prostitutes for the next six months. I had lost the best partner I had ever had, and I couldn't deal with it. The final straw was when the department chief found me lying naked, backside in the air for all to see in a department store display. After my downfall, I decided that I would put my skills to work as a private eye.

Yoshiru Long: I know...but you still have connections.

Curtis Silkes: Let's just say that it's a good thing that most of the force weren't exactly fans of Vice-President Wallace.

Yoshiru Long: Here's the deal. My client had a valuable painting stolen from her. The thief somehow was able to get past her security system.

Curtis Silkes: Are we looking for other similar cases?

Yoshiru Long: That's what I was thinking.

Curtis Silkes: You got it. I'll make a few calls and see what I can come up with.

I looked over at Silkes' wall and noticed something interesting.

Yoshiru Long: Is that...

Curtis Silkes: It is. After they removed the bullet from Wallace's shoulder, I had it framed.

Yoshiru Long: You really are proud of that, aren't you...

Curtis Silkes: Do you know anyone else that could shoot the Vice-President and not be arrested for it?

That's Silkes. Brash, but honest. After finishing my coffee, I decided that it was time to continue on. I had an old friend coming in to town, and I promised that I'd bring him to see the Statue of Liberty. I walked out to my car, and after four tries, the rusted beast finally turned over. I took off and headed to Grand Central Station. As I pulled up, I saw my friend waiting for me. I got out of the car and waved him over. He climbed in to the car as I got back in, and we drove off.

Paul Bear: It's about time you showed up! I was waiting for like five minutes!

Yoshiru Long: Really? Five minutes?

Paul Bear: I'm a movie star, Yosh! We don't get treated like that! Be fair to Bear!

Yoshiru Long: Yeah, yeah.

Paul Bear. A simple man from Wisconsin that was chosen to be the modern face in the film industry upon the introduction of “talkies”. His first feature film, “The Tai-Chi Reverend”. It became an instant classic, as fans clammered for more from the new face. In six years, the production company filmed three sequels, each featuring Bear as the star. He became known worldwide as Mr. Talkie and The Measuring Stick. It was said that those looking to reach super-stardom would only shine from the glimmer of light cast upon them from Paul Bear. There were even rumors that Bear had something going on with up-and-coming actress Marilyn Monroe.

Yoshiru Long: So, are you guys going to make another Tai-Chi Reverend movie?

Paul Bear: That's what they're telling me.

Yoshiru Long: I still don't understand how you've been the spotlight of the film industry for the past few years...and you've never seen the Statue of Liberty.

Paul Bear: My filming schedule keeps me pretty busy. And when I'm not filming, I'm usually busy with...other...activities.

Yoshiru Long: Marilyn?

Paul Bear: A few times.

It took a while, but we finally reached the Statue of Liberty. After taking a tour, we returned back to the main land and I drove Bear to the Hotel Astor. After dropping him off, I returned to the office, hoping for a call from Silkes. As I waited, I sifted through some old paperwork.

The door to my office suddenly opened and Veronica walked in, clad in a skin-tight white dress that could almost be classified as see-through. She sat down in front of my desk.

Yoshiru Long: Veronica. What can I do for you?

Ms. Ravencroft: I have a few names that you might want to look in to. I'm not sure if they're involved or not, but it would be a good start.

Yoshiru Long: Perfect. So, who are we looking at?

Ms. Ravencroft: Dustin Gold, Derek Jenkins, and Adrian Thorne.

Yoshiru Long: Adrian Thorne?

Ms. Ravencroft: Yes.

Even through her soft, lucious lips, that name sent chills down my spine. I had encountered Thorne in my past on a few different occasions. Actually, he had been under the New York Police Department's radar for years. Thorne was probably the biggest crime boss on the East Coast. He had his hand in everything. Gambling, alcohol running in the '30's, drugs, you name it, Thorne was in on it. We were able to apprehend a lot of his associates, but Thorne always seemed to get himself off the hook.

Yoshiru Long: Alright. I'll look in to them.

Veronica smiled as she rose from her chair. Her sultry lips so inviting, a devil under that skin I was sure she was. She was a temptress who could get her way with anyone. I could tell from the first moment I laid eyes on her. She left my office, her usual slight swing in her hips. As I stared at the door, still seeing her long after she left, my phone suddenly rang. For a moment I found myself startled by the sudden ring, but I quickly picked it up to answer.

Yoshiru Long: Yeah, this is Mr. Long.

Curtis Silkes: Yosh, I made those calls and one name came up with all of my contacts. You ever heard of a man named Dustin Gold?

Yoshiru Long: Oddly, yes. Ms. Ravencroft told me to look in to him just a few moments ago.

Curtis Silkes: You definitely should look in to him. He is a collector of rare items.

Yoshiru Long: Really?

Curtis Silkes: It gets better. He apparently is a real estate mogul as well. He owns the Hotel Astor.

I knew his name sounded familiar! Silkes and I had investigated Gold for fraud about eight years back. The man went from having nothing to suddenly being the spotlight of New York City, buying a lot of the most popular buildings in the city. We had believed that he was a front man for Adrian Thorne, but we had no way to prove it.

Curtis Silkes: My guy said he'll head over with the paperwork tonight.

Yoshiru Long: That's great, Curt. Thanks for the help.

Curtis Silkes: No problem.

I put the phone back on the hook and continued going through my old files as I waited. About an hour passed by when there was a knock at the door. The door opened, and in walked a man in a suit. He approached me with a file in hand, and took a seat in front of my desk.

Gary Scarpocci: Mr. Long... You were looking for files on Dustin Gold?

Yoshiru Long: Yes. And you are?

Gary Scarpocci: You can call me Gary.

Yoshiru Long: Alright, Gary. What do you have for me?

Gary Scarpocci: This is all of the information that the New York Police Department and the Federal Beaueau of Investigations has collected on Mr. Gold.

Yoshiru Long: Sounds good. And may I ask, what are you exactly? NYPD? FBI?

Gary Scarpocci: I'm a guy that can get the information that you need. That's all you need to know.

Yoshiru Long: I can live with that answer. Can I ask you one more question?

Gary Scarpocci: I owe Curt, so ask away.

Yoshiru Long: Do you know a man by the name of Derek Jenkins?

Gary Scarpocci: Jenkins... Isn't he the one that people suspected of paying off the owner of the Yankees to throw the '42 World Series?

Yoshiru Long: I knew he sounded familiar!

Gary Scarpocci: Why such an interest in him?

Yoshiru Long: My client gave me three names to look in to. Adrian Thorne, Dustin Gold, and Derek Jenkins. She believes that one of them could be behind the stealing of her Monet.

Gary Scarpocci: I wouldn't put it past any of those three. Look, if you need any more information, have Silkes give me a call.

The bruting darkie stood up from the chair and shook my hand after giving me the files. He left my office, and I quickly found something to wipe my hands clean. I grabbed the chair he was sitting in and set it outside of my office. It was soiled by his mere presence. I returned to my chair and wiped off the files, as well as my hands a second time before flipping through them.

I raised my head and opened my eyes as I had fell asleep at the office. After a quick yawn, I noticed that my file on Dustin Gold was gone. I looked toward my office door, noticing that it had been kicked in. As much as I hated to do it, I picked up the phone and called the police, requesting that they come to my office to investigate.

It seemed like it took forever, but two officers finally showed up. Two familiar officers. Two officers that quite simply, I dispised.

Yoshiru Long: Hello, Blaker.

Jim Blaker: Looks like you've made an enemy, Yoshiru.

Yoshiru Long: I'm sure I've made more than one over the years.

Michael Collins: Sure looks like this private eye business is prospering for you.

Yoshiru Long: At least I don't have to work with bastards like you.

Blaker and Collins were prime examples of what gave the police department a bad name. They were not above working with the crime organizations to get results. For years, we had suspected that Blaker and Collins were under Thorne's payroll. Myself and Silkes thought that Collins and Blaker were responsible for leaking information to Thorne in order to help him avoid getting charged with any crimes.

Jim Blaker: Well, Yoshiru. It looks like someone kicked in your door.

Yoshiru Long: No shit.

Michael Collins: It would suit you best to keep your opinions to yourself, Yoshiru. Think what you want of us, but at least we didn't go on coke binges and sleep with half the prostitutes in New York City.

Yoshiru Long: It wasn't half the prostitutes. It was only the ones within three blocks of my house.

Jim Blaker: Still the same, pathetic Yoshiru.

Yoshiru Long: How does Faddons put up with you two doofs?

Jim Blaker: Brian Faddons? He's not the Unit Chief anymore. He hasn't been the Unit Chief for the past two years. We work under Ryan Robertson now.

New York City is in serious trouble! Ryan Robertson is a snake! Back when I was a part of the force, Robertson was partnered with a man by the name of Smith Stone. Both were horrible! They were arrogant pieces of crap that let their achievements define them, even though along with the achievements, they caused the state to spend tons of money on repairs throughout the city due to their recklessness.

Yoshiru Long: You're serious? Robertson is the Unit Chief?

Jim Blaker: Look, Mr. Long. We'll look in to this break-in, but we can't guarentee that we'll get any answers. No witnesses, and aside from the files, nothing missing.

Yoshiru Long: Sounds like the old days for you, Blaker. You have the power, but you never take action.

Michael Collins: I think we're done here, Yoshiru. Call us when there's a “real” crime.

Blaker and Collins left my office, Collins spitting on the broken door as he walked out. But I had to put my hatred for those two aside. I had a case to solve. Fifty thousand dollars depended...

The phone suddenly rang. I walked over and answered it, expecting that it would be Veronica or Silkes.

Yoshiru Long: Yoshiru Long, private eye.

Paul Bear: You need to come pick me up.

Yoshiru Long: Paul? Why?

Paul Bear: There's nothing to do here!

Yoshiru Long: Okay. You do realize that I'm going to be busy with my case, right?

Paul Bear: It's fine. I'll just sit in the car.

Yoshiru Long: I don't know...

Paul Bear: Come on... Be fair to Bear!

Yoshiru Long: Alright, I'll be there in a bit.

Damn movie stars! Always thinking that they're better than everyone else! Bear might have been one of my closest friends, but still. I had a job to do! I couldn't have him sitting in the car while I go to search for answers!

I put on my fedora and left the office. I hurried to my car, got in, and turn the beast over...again, not on the first try. Vehicles past by on the road as the streets of New York were busy on this Friday. I arrived at the Hotel Astor where Bear was waiting for me outside. He climbed in to the car, and we took off, heading over to question Jenkins at his mansion.

Paul Bear: How in the world do you live in this town, Yosh? There's nothing to do here!

Yoshiru Long: Paul, it's New York! You can do whatever you want here!

Paul Bear: Yeah, but once you have a hooker or two from this city, it kind of loses it's edge.

Yoshiru Long: Look, Paul. I don't have time for this. I have to work on my case, and that starts with questioning Derek Jenkins.

I pulled up to the mansion gate. Now, I knew the type of person that Derek was. He wouldn't let just anyone through the gates. This would require some cunning skills, some finesse...

Yoshiru Long: Stay here, Paul.

I stepped out of the car and approached the gate. You see, the problem that most people run in to when trying to get past the gate of a mansion is that they make their presence known. They try to get the mansion owner to let them in before they try resorting to other measures...but that's not me. I grabbed a hold of the gate bars and began to climb up the gate. As I reached the top, I suddenly heard a voice.

Derek Jenkins: Stop, trespasser! I will turn on the electricity!

I love these guys! They think that they're big shots because they own their own mansions! They threatened to flip on the juice if you continue to tresspass on their property! Such idiots! Like someone would ever believe...

I'm not sure what exactly happened, but when I opened my eyes I was looking up at the mid-day sky. I could feel a tingling in my body, and I was pretty sure that I pissed myself. Two heads suddenly came in to view, blocking the sky. I was suddenly lifted to my feet, but my legs were numb. And somehow, with my legs numb, I was still moving. Moving backwards, but moving nonetheless. I entered the mansion, still miraculously moving backwards, and soon found myself dropping down on to an ivory couch. And the man, Derek Jenkins sat across from me.

Derek Jenkins: Well, well, well. To what do I owe this visit?

Yoshiru Long: Mum mumm mmuumm mummm mum.

Well now. It appeared as if I was having trouble speaking. Maybe it is possible that I just had thousands of volts vibrate through my body. It would account for the numbness and tingling...and the incoherant speech.

Paul Blair: Wait, wait, wait!

Blair quickly interrupted Yoshiru as Yoshiru paused with his speaking.

Paul Blair: You're story is great so far, but why don't I take it from here.

Yoshiru Long: Umm, I guess...

Jenkins signaled for his men to kill Yoshiru, sensing that the former officer could only bring trouble. As one of Jenkins' men aimed their gun at Yoshiru, I quickly kicked in the mansion's front door, drawing all of their attention to me.

Henchmen One: Is that Paul Bear?!

Derek Jenkins: What the hell is Paul Bear doing here?!

I quickly approached as the shooter was frozen in admiration for my pure awesomicity.

Paul Bear: BEAR KICK!

I kicked the first henchmen in the jaw, sending him hard to the floor. The second henchmen pulled out a knife and began to swing it as he approached me.

Henchmen Two: Get ready to be sliced and diced, Bear!

We exchanged several shots back and forth. I avoided his knife slashes, but we both were able to get a couple of rights in on the other. After a good right hook, I followed through with a Bear Kick, sending the henchmen crashing to the floor.

Yoshiru Long: Bear! You saved me!

Yoshiru quickly interrupts Blair.

Yoshiru Long: What are you doing, Paul? You can't just change a script on me.

Paul Blair: Excuse me! You do know who I am, right? I'm Paul Blair! And you need to be fair to Blair!

Yoshiru hesitates for a moment.

Yoshiru Long: You know what, Paul. I think I'll weigh out my other options. No hard feelings?

Paul Blair: The script wasn't that good anyways. The only plus to it was Paul Bear...and the fact that you didn't add in any rollie pollie fatties.

Yoshiru smirks and shakes Blair's hand before getting up and leaving the office.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

I think that people are getting the wrong idea. It seems as though people believe that The Elite have become soft. That we have become weak. That we are a shell of our former selves. My apologies for those that don't understand, but we are far from falling away from what we used to be! The Elite has always had one sole purpose. We thrive on our ability to time and time again show all of you that we truly are just better than you! And week after week, that's exactly what we show you. Whether it be beating down the then-World Heavyweight Champion or taking down a man who seemed nearly undefeatable. The Elite, we stand for something more than ANY of you can understand. We stand for honesty. We stand for justice. We stand for all that is good, even if it seems like we're the bad guys.

Which brings me to Jerry Matthews. Jerry, you picked a fight with the wrong man. You may believe that you're here to take down those who don't believe, but Curt is not the man to mess with. Curt is a man who will put it all on the line. A man who will take any risk. A man who will put his body through whatever Hell he needs to. At Anarchy, Jerry, you will learn that God can't save you from the Hell that Curt will put you through. Get ready to be the ultimate sacrifice.

But enough about the religious “savior”. At Anarchy, for the first time ever, Yoshiru Long will compete in a Scars of Wrestling Cup match. I have seen many of these matches, but I have never competed in one. Now, don't take my not competing in one as not being good enough for the match. Take it as I've never NEEDED to be in a Scars of Wrestling Cup match. If you take a look at my history in PCW, you will see that I've only held one championship...the World Heavyweight Championship. But, it should be known that out of all the time that I've spent in PCW, I have only competed in three championship matches where I was not the champion. The first one, I won the World Heavyweight Championship. The second one was a rematch for the World Heavyweight Championship where, thanks to outside interference, I was disqualified. And the third was at Anarchy last year...again for the World Heavyweight Championship.

The Platinum Championship, the Broadcast Championship, the Brawl Championship, the World Tag Team Championship...never once was I given a match for any of these championships. Probably because I was too good to be considered anything less than the World Heavyweight Championship. But here I am, for the first time competing in a Scars of Wrestling Cup match. And against who? Well, your guess is as good as mine. See, I'm used to names like Syn, or Danielle Lopez, or Draven Logan Kennedy, or Mariano Fernandez, or Nightrain. You know, superstars that actually mean something to PCW. Superstars that I could step in to the ring with and consider them as competition. But at Anarchy, that isn't exactly the case. Instead, I step in to the ring with Dustin Holt, Adrian Storms, and Derek Jacobs. Three names that mean nothing to PCW. Three names that sit at the bottom of the mountain, never to take a step closer to the top.

So here's the deal Dustin...Adrian...Derek. This is your chance to make something of yourself. Your chance to show the world that you're more than just a space-filler in PCW. Unfortunately for you, that comes with one little catch. In order to show the world that you're more than simple space-fillers, you'll have to make it through me. A man that has competed with the best that PCW has to offer. If you don't believe me, let me give you a quick little history lesson.

When I arrived in PCW, I targeted two men, Leon Lonewolf and Mariano Fernandez. Shortly after targeting them, I found myself in a triple threat match for the World Heavyweight Championship...a match that I won. The feud continued, with me of course coming out on top. I am also the man who was victorious in a Gauntlet match for my World Heavyweight Championship. I started the match, and I defeated all of the opponents in the match. I did however lose my championship in what was considered one of the best matches in PCW history. A match with fellow Elite member, Curtis Wilkes. Upon the resurrection of PCW, myself and Curt pulled the wool over everyone's eyes as we walked out week after week dressed up as a clown and a werewolf, rave dancing with the superstars of PCW. Eventually people saw it as a normality, which allowed myself and Curt to nearly decimate more of the top guys in PCW. If you fast forward, you would see myself take down the man who is the current World Heavyweight Champion. A man who at the time wasn't exactly top of the herd. I didn't only defeat him...I dressed up as him, impersonated him, and embarrassed him. But it wasn't over. Our little war continued, and that man found his place in PCW when he made a name for himself by defeating me on a couple of occasions. After suffering an injury, I would find myself on the sidelines for a short time. Upon my return, The Elite once again made an impact by taking out the World Heavyweight Champion, Danielle Lopez. Most recently, I found myself in a match against the Platinum Champion. And despite his ideas that he was better than The Elite, better than myself...it was The Reaper who found himself looking up at the lights when the match came to an end.

So, tell me something boys? What in the world makes you believe that you could possibly defeat me? What makes you believe that you have a chance? Is it the “burning desire”? Is it the “heart of a champion”? Is it the “never say die attitude”? Because it'll take a hell of a lot more than that. I'm not a simple pushover, gentlemen. I am Yoshiru Long. I am a PCW Hall Of Famer. I am a former World Heavyweight Champion. I am a member of the greatest faction to EVER step foot in PCW. People can claim the greatest faction to be Team Lethality or The Desciples of Syn. But when it comes down to it, The Elite have done more throughout PCW history than any other faction. So Dustin, Adrian, Derek...you better prepared for the war of your life. You better be ready for a man who has always defied the odds and proved the critics wrong. At Anarchy gentlemen, you step in to the ring with Yoshiru Long. And as everyone knows, myself, Curt...

We are Elite...AND WE'RE JUST BETTER THAN YOU!!!