Post by The Gangsta on Oct 12, 2014 19:08:54 GMT -5
Ante Whitner RP
The Few, the Proud, and the Psychopath
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The Few, the Proud, and the Psychopath
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In hundreds of years, no one on the face of the Earth will know who you are or if you existed at all.
In hundreds of years, no one on the face of the Earth will know what happened in your time.
In hundreds of years, they will always remember the name, just the name. Ante Whitner.
They won’t just remember how he was beaten on two separate occasions by the Saviors of Salvation, but they will remember the struggle he had with the simple fruits of life.
Those few, those happy few men in the Revolutionary War had to fight against the fruits of life and in the end, secured a nation with liberty and freedom. My struggle is quite similar if you think about it. I must betray what life has given to me in order to promote the peace and prosperity of a nation riddled with vermin, ready to strike into the minds of others and infect them with their poison.
Not only am I the #1 contender to the National Title, I am the National Champion.
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May 15th, 2005
The Ghost’s Den, Yonkers, New York
I wake up behind a few ash trays, still freshly burned. My body is aching, my heart pounding, and my mind is racing. The headaches I encountered that day were overwhelming and extremely painful, nothing like I’ve ever witnessed before. As I stumble to my feet, I notice someone glaring at me from a short distance.
At first, my mind took it in with a feeling of regret and bad choice. My vision is blurred with a red color scheme and my nose suddenly starts to bleed a little. I feel my cheek to see a smudge of black ink rub off onto my finger. I look at the person standing in front of me and feel angry towards them. I feel my brain can’t keep up with the pace of reality and I leap towards the person with rage.
I fight and fight until my arms give out. The person is writhing in pain from what I can hear. I scream and spit on the face of this person. Then I feel a hand pull me off.
It shook me out of my violent trance and to no avail; there was no one I was fighting with in the first place. I look to the right to see this girl, showing no fear or fright within her.
“What’s your name?”
“Christa. Christa Willow.”
I felt the triumph of overcoming fear inside her as I touch her hand.
“Um, what are you doing?”
“I, uh, don’t know what’s going on.”
It’s true; my body felt something uncontrollable yet again. I don’t know what the hell is going on with me, but I find it pretty bad.
“Well, look, this isn’t the right place to live, okay?”
“Yeah, I see…”
“I heard what happened. You’re Ante, right?”
“Um, yeah, I think.”
“Did you lose your memory or somethin’?”
“Uh, sort of.”
“Come with me, I got some food and stuff to heal you up.”
I don’t know who this girl is or what she is going to do with me, but I sense her passion to escape this place. She has probably been forced onto the streets and looked for the Ghost’s Den as a safe haven too.
“Sit over here.”
In the entire apartment building the Ghosts owned, her room was the nicest. Christa gave me a platter of food, unlike anything I’ve seen before.
“Uh, thanks.”
“Don’t worry about it. Just, don’t tell anyone I gave you this, okay?”
“Yeah, sure.”
I’m still aching, but the warmth and comfort of the chicken and rice she gave me really helped. I had never eaten a meal like that since my mom had died. Luckily, there were no Ghosts around in the daytime because they would usually go around the town to see what “dope” they can find for the cheapest price.
As I finish up my plate of food, she walks back into the room she put me in.
“So, Ante, tell me a little about yourself.”
“Well, um, I can’t really remember it at the moment.”
“Come on, don’t give up that easily.”
I look at her with a scorn for her language towards me. It was nothing bad as I look back at it, but it sure sent my mind into another mysterious zone.
“You don’t want to know about me, okay?”
“I’ll tell you everything about me. Come on man, I gave you food and s**t, just tell me a little about yourself.”
“Alright then. My mom is a whore, my dad is dead and I have a pet dog named One-Eye."
“Hahaha! You’re funny Ante!”
I didn’t know if she was trying to flirt with me or what, but I was kind of connecting with her. As the conversation went on, I noticed we had a lot of things in common than one would think. Our fathers were both drunken a**holes, our mothers are both dead and we have nowhere to live. We shared a few laughs here and there until I asked:
“Are you single?”
“Single? You mean like…”
“Yes, single.”
“Um…”
Just about when she was going to answer, Larry strolls in.
“What are you doing in here, come out here and let me talk to you.”
Larry violently pulls her out into the hallway and I hear his yells pierce through the door. I look aimlessly around the room and see a picture of Christa with Larry. It looks like they were very close. A little too close.
She is pushed back in the room, tears flowing through her eyes. She looks up at me and stops sobbing.
“What happened?”
“Uh, it’s just nothing.”
I lean over to comfort her, but the pain of my body from last night is still overwhelming to me. I then lean back into my place.
“So where were we?”
“I asked if you were single, I think.”
“Um, no, I am not.”
Well, that was a shot to the knee. I sighed a little and just replied with:
“Oh, well, okay.”
She then looked curious to what my emotions were.
“Why? Are you interested in me? I only met you like an hour ago.”
“You see, we have things in common. And I feel you are the only one in Yonkers who can connect with me besides my friend Frankie.”
“Well, that’s, um, sweet.”
As I move on to talk a little more, the door downstairs bursts open. The yells of the Ghosts flooded the house, some going upstairs, some going downstairs. Their wisps of terror still haunt me to this very day. I start to remember what happened to me the night before.
“Lay him over here Pete. It’s a good angle if you ask me.”
“Hahaha, alright.”
I start to hear the screams inside of my body. They pierce my ears, inside and out, as if I’m deaf. Christa sees me go off into another trance and looks to stay by my side this time.
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Shapiro, you were once a street fighter from what I heard. You had no older siblings to look up to, something you and I have in common. You fought until you got what you deserved, a shot at the big leagues. We come from similar backgrounds Shapiro; you look like a worthy opponent to go up against.
But, what separates you and me jack is the lack of struggle between yourself and the greater vehicle. What, playground bullies got your tongue again? There is no effort to overcome your greatest weaknesses and you just let it slip a little to a point where you come up short in the National Title match. Like myself, you are given another shot right here.
You are given a shot at the National Title. Not a shot at the World Heavyweight Title, but a shot for your country, your nation. You can’t make your nation believe in you if all you do is promote anti-bullying because you were tortured back in the day by them as well.
Shapiro, plain and simple, there is no purpose for you to become the next National Champion and there certainly won’t be any more in the near future.
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June 4th, 2005
Yonkers City Hospital, Yonkers, New York
“Okay Ante, lay down right here.”
I was led into Dr. Travis’s office for some evaluation appointment to see if I have bipolar disorder.
“Alright Ante, now that we are all situated in, tell me, what does your mind feel like right now?”
“How can I feel my mind if there is nothing to feel doc?”
“Well, Ante, there is something to feel. Just relax, close your eyes and tell me, what did the Ghosts do to you Ante?”
My eyes close and immediately I feel the effects of what they did to me. I feel their long johns penetrating my body with such severity and pain. I can’t take it as I open my eyes again.
“Ante, just think about it for a couple of moments. I’ll start off a little easier then, who are the Ghosts?”
I close my eyes again, trying to recollect the remnants of my shattered brain.
“They are a group that dominates the eastern region of Yonkers. They are a gang based on their knack for drugs, prostitution and violence. They are thrill-seekers, ruining others’ lives for their own personal enjoyment.”
“Very well Ante. We are making progress here, go on a little more. Who did you meet within the Ghost’s Den?”
“I met this girl named Christa. She was the only one who really cared about me in that horrid place. She caught my attention the first time she came to help me.”
“Good Ante. What happened to Christa?”
My eyes start to flicker as I remember how I escaped the Ghost’s Den. The police, the gunshots, the blood, everything came to my memory. I then proceed to lie to him.
“I honestly can’t remember doc. I just remember entering this hospital two days ago and blacking out.”
“Well, alright then Ante. We’ll pick this up tomorrow at eight AM, okay?”
“Yeah, okay.”
“Good, get some sleep. We contacted your friend Frankie to take care of you for a little. We made sure your dad knows about this.”
“Wait, my dad?!”
“Yes, your dad. He said that you should stay with Frankie.”
Wow, I guess my dad did have a little sympathy for me after all.
“Your brother is going home with his friend Marcus so there is no need to worry about him.”
“Okay, thanks doc.”
“Anytime Ante, see you tomorrow.”
I walk out of the hospital to see my friend Frankie embrace me.
“Where the hell have you been these past few weeks? I’ve been looking for ya’.”
“I’ll tell you when we get back to your house.”
“Um, yeah, sure. Hop in, I got a cab for us.”
The cab rides us back to that very familiar street at which I had ran away those few weeks ago. To some relief, I knew I was finally safe.
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Now, Axel, I remember you very well. Last time I encountered you was when I beat you and that other newcomer Justin North at Battle at the Garden a couple of months back. I’m a changed man Axel, true to my word. Come Men & Monsters, I will beat you again along with Shapiro to win that National Title.
Your childhood, full of death, misery and many suicide attempts, pleases me. It’s always great to see someone who has experienced pain as I have. There is no reason for you to win this title. Shapiro has to please his younger audience to make them believe in him and I will win this title to win the struggle between myself and life’s misfortunes to prove myself to the others that I’m not just a needle in the haystack. I’m here to stay and wreak the pain of which I hail from onto my opponents from that day forward. What’s you purpose, huh, Axel?
Both of you have potential to be new National Champions. But, you just don’t have that strive to do so. Wake up, newsflash guys; look at who you are going up against. The name people hundreds of years after my death will know, Ante Whitner.
America is a land of freedom and ambition. At Men & Monsters, my ambition to take over the WFWF will finally be relieved. I am one of the few psychopaths that roam this country looking for a place to strike next.
I will strike here. And after Men & Monsters, Americans far and wide will say hello to your new WFWF National Champion, Ante Whitner.
I dont know good luck 
