Outside of the XWF Arena, a small car that appears to be past retirement
age sits in the rain with the lights on. A young man, about the age
of 20 or so, sits in the driver's seat, with the keys in the ignition.
The doors to the arena open from the inside, and out walks a man draped
in heavy layers of shadow. He covers his head with a bundle of thick
paper and rushes to the waiting vehicle. He walks to the passenger's
door and quickly scoots into the jalopy.
"So, this is it, Aaron?"
"Yeah."
"You know, there's still time to reconsider."
"I'm going to that tourney, whether it's safe or not. "
"But you've only been..."
"Can it. I need this."
"Fine, fine."
The driver, now revealed to be Aaron Jennings, XWF champ, switches the
car into gear and pulls into the nearly abandoned highway.
"So, you're really worried about me, Ken?"
"Hey, I've got to get paid, right?"
"Yeah, you did good, if only that slime Legion didn't take away the
evidence."
"You'll get your money's worth."
The car suddenly stops as they approach a red light. It's really getting
windy outside, and a small piece of garbage blows past and gets illuminated
in the headlights for a second, and then leaves as the light turns green.
"You know, Ken, how all this got started?"
"I've been wating to know. What's all this about?"
"Let's start at the beginning. Three years ago, I woke up at the side
of a road, sore all over. My first thought was 'Am I okay?', but I hit
a little speed bump when I get to the I. My head was really sore, and
I was battered and bruised all over."
"What's all this got to do with the King of Kings tourney, A-Train?"
"I'm getting to that. Anyway, when I got to the 'I' part, I drew a blank.
I couldn't remember my own name! I checked my pockets, nothing. No I.D.,
no wallet, nothing. I tried to stand up, but I slipped into unconsciousness.
When I awakened, a women whom I didn't recognize was trying to revive
me with smalling salts. I got up and asked her if she knew me. She said,
'No, but you seem familiar...'.
"Wait, 'Aaron', where did that name come from?"
"After a week under her care, I wanted to leave. She told me I needed
an identity, so she decided to call me Aaron. Aaron Jennings. Just something
she came up with. It fit, so I kept it."
"This is interesting, Aaron. So why'd you get into wrestling, of all
things?"
"A few witnesses to the scene of the hit and run told me a very big
man was driving. Big as in muscular, and tall like a wrestler. Anyway,
I decided to train as a wrestler, I was pretty big and tough myself,
and I figured that the workouts might stimulate some memories or something.
Kinda farfetched, really."
A pair of headlights splits the fog and is trained on the old junker.
Aaron realizes mistake and swerves into the correct lane.
"So anyway, Kenny, I heard that some really big and tough guys were
stationed in the XWF. On an off chance that my ruthless attempted killer
was wrestling for the XWF, I joined."
"Was that the first time you ever wrestled?"
"Yeah, I'd never stepped inside the squared circle, barring my training.
I was quite angry by the time I got there, after three years of searching
far-fetched leads and going on wild-goose chases, I had lots of anger
pent up inside of me. My first challenge was Johnny Rage. I fought the
guy inside a Hell in the Cell structure. It fed my rage, and I went
as far as the break the wall open with his head and take him outside.
You know what happened next, Ken?"
"No, I never really followed you career, Aaron."
"No? And you call yourself a friend. Well, anyway, I scaled the cage
with a chair, dove off, and plastered him in the cranium with it. Needless
to say, I won."
"You told me the other day that it was a turning point for you."
"Yeah, I realized that I didn't need to be angry all the time. I could
take out my aggessions on my opponents. As I racked up the victories,
the fans got behind me. I was one of the only 'faces' in the fed, and
my opponents hated me for it. The crowd loved me, and I was able to
make a name for myself without resorting to cheating or swearing. After
participating in four matches at the last pay-per-view, I took home
the gold in a brutal match with my old pal Brimstone."
"We're almost there, Aaron."
Ahead, the giant stadium where the Interfed was based lit up the sky
with the flourescents and smoke emitted from the giant sign.
"Here we are. I'm ready. Wait here, Ken, this shan't take long."
A-Train parked the car and stepped outside. The night was dark, but
the rain had receded and he was able to step outside without getting
too wet.
'OK, here I go,' he mumbled to himself. He entered the arena and waited
for his cue. The frighteningly painful chords of "Ode to Freud" hit,
as the A-Train, Aaron Jennings, ran into the unfamiliar arena and into
the ring to address the fans. He grabbed a microphone, and began to
speak.
"You guys may not know me very well, but I think that I will make myself
very well known around here. I'm not like a lot of wrestlers. I don't
swear, fight unfairly, or do anything to harm young children. I am living
proof that wrestling can be sucessful without smut. However, as well
as wrestle, I also write poetry sometimes. I wrote this on my way up
here. (Obvious lie) I call it 'Enter the A-Train'.
"This guy has won gold, he's paid his dues. With his good guy ways,
he gets cheers instead of boos.
"He's the XWF champ, don't get in his way. He may have no memory,
but he can make you pay.
" At this big tourney, his biggest one yet. His opponents will
crumble, like a paper bag gotten wet.
" So who is this man, who suffers so much pain? It's none other
than myself, the unstoppable A-Train!"
And so he exits the building, amid the cheers he hears a drunkard yelling,
'Can I have your autograph, mister?'
