Who is Alan Christopher?

It had been years. In twenty-seventeen, during the height of the DARC Pro Sports era of sports-entertainment, a monster was born, unleashed unto the roster. A rampaging, ravaging beast known only as The Tarmogoyf – the self-proclaimed eater of souls that would carry it’s victims off into the sunset to be devoured, and reformed into the image of the very beast itself, mere husks of their former selves. During the DARC ages, that creature participated in many contests, losing many, but the mere act of competition wasn’t the Eater of Souls’ objective. No. He was there to inspire fear in the hearts of others, in their minds. A three second pinfall? Such worldly pleasures were beyond the interest of a man monster of such lordly caliber. But then, there was one such night where this all changed. During an event with friendly partner promotion, inside of the XWA’s Battlezone, the unthinkable had happened. “The Tarmogoyf” as he was referred to, had conquered the an extreme setting, tasting it’s first capture of championship gold. It was sweet. It was...powerful. It launched the monster whom hailed from the Verdant Catacombs to unmask, revealing his true identity…

A move met more by mixed reaction and pure, unbridled bile and hatred from all walks of social media across the entirety of the sports-entertainment landscape. For the man under the mask was in fact well known, infamous as it were, for his often-called delusional thoughts and one-sided decrees. That man, of course, was the “One True God”, Alan Christopher himself! The now forty-nine, going on fifty year old veteran of the business once deemed an “All-Star” but now deemed clinically insane due to his belief in the leather-bound book carried by his person at all times...a book referred to only as the “Gospel of Perfection, as according to Alan”. It was easy to see just why such a man would be viewed under such bile from his friends and foes alike, and even blasphemous toward the respect of other’s religion. Alan never let that deter him from his life’s mission of “saving” the masses by delivering his spoken word to any and all individuals – whether they were willing to listen to him, or not. Then, soon after his eventual reveal under the mask of The Tarmogoyf, Alan would be shunned by his now ex-employer of the XWA, citing their clear unwillingness to work with a “crazy cult leader” and the apparent loss of their company’s public image. Or so that would be the company’s official statement. The realities however were unclear, being sealed behind the board room and an alleged large sum of money given to the iconic Alan Christopher in exchange for his silence on the matter. A “gag order” if you will, in order to preserve company image.

Capitalizing on his re-emergence, Alan would soon turn up in the Karnage Championship Wrestling – soon to be renamed Six Corners Wrestling, and eventually would take the name California Wrestling – abducting the very World Championship and richest prize in the company. Alan would taunt the company, citing “possession is nine-tenth’s of the law…” and proclaim himself the champion of the company, demanding any athlete in the locker room come to try and take that title from him. This too, however, would be short lived as more of Alan’s foes would stand up, and turn their backs on the company, refusing to show up to work as long as Alan was allowed to walk the halls and perpetrate as a member of the company. Alas, Alan and the owner of soon-to-be California Wrestling, Ethan Roerich – would have a closed door meeting about what the next course of action would be. It was obvious, though, while one man eliciting such bile from athlete and fan alike was an incredible way to draw crowds, you can’t run a company with no athletes. And so, much like the XWA, Alan and the KCW would soon part ways, an undisclosed sum of money offered to buy out what otherwise was a ten-year contract, between Alan and the KCW. This split is the primary reason why the KCW would latre rebrand into California Wrestling – a mere way of saving face and public image in the wake of signing such a hated, controversial name, let alone to such a lengthy, high money deal.

And so where does that leave Alan Christopher in twenty-twenty? It had seemed that everywhere he went, he was just as quickly forced out, in fear of the bile that athletes and fans alike maintained for the authour of the Gospel of Perfection. That’s okay, right? I mean after all, in mere months Alan would be fifty years old, and he was clearly outrageously wealthy. He had traveled the roads up and down, had done everything in the ring, in the back, from champion to pencil and everything in between. What more could such a decorated icon have to prove?

***********

“I still don’t see why you’re doing this, Alan,” the camera stayed on a rather rotund man with snow white hair, a double chin, and cheap polyester suit. “Who cares what some fans say on the Twitters. You’re made. Look at that bank roll. You can live a wealthy life and never have to take another bump a day in your life!”

“Perhaps, Johnny,“ the camera quickly shot to the other side, revealing the ‘One True God’, Alan Christopher himself. “But, as long as I draw breath, as long as I carry the good book, as long as there are those with which I have not reached yet, my job is not done. There are still many, many more unwashed that must hear of the word of Alanism. They must visit the hallowed halls of the True God himself. They must learn of the life they have wasted up to this point. They must learn of how they can improve on their quality of life...through changing the image in their mirror to replicate one of I.”

The man he spoke to clearly was Johnny Deep, former colour commentator of ACE Wrestling but even longer than that, acted as Alan’s sports agent as far back as two-thousand-eight.

“You would waste your time on the common riff raff of uneducated buffoons? That doesn’t sound very...Alan of you.” Johnny retorted with a chuckle.

“For every hundred unsavables, there’s always one such individual deemed worthy enough of molding into my image. Like that...oh, what was his name, that Chris Kobaine kid. He showed promise. He aspired to the Tenets of Alanism, he read from the Gospel of Perfection, he did everything he was asked. He was hungry. He wanted to take that next step for a better future, it was evident! I was so close...until Knoxville terminated his contract, a clear power play attempt at weakening the foothold I was rapidly establishing within that company.”

“I always wondered what happened to that kid.”

“I assumed he had slipped. He allowed himself briefly to falter from his walk in the hallowed halls of the One True God, and decided to embrace the quick high of cocaine and other illegal narcotic substances. When the management in Knoxville found out, he was in violation of their wellness policy, and, since he was affiliated with me so closely, they terminated him for the first strike. Rather than allow the Tenets of Alanism to redeem his poor, misguided soul that could have used guidance then more than ever. But alas, the past is the past. We’re here in the present, on yet another stop on the highway of delivering the word for a better future, to the people. The unwashed masses...of the United Toughness Alliance!”

“Why the UTA though?” Johnny asked with a quip, “This is a whole new territory, with all new athletes and a whole new fanbase. What if the management here treats Your Grace as the other companies in the past decade have?”

“You just answered your own question, Johnny. The UTA IS a whole new fanbase. Whole new locker room. That means a whole new group of faces with which to preach the teachings of Alanism to. Men like Mikey Unlikely, Bobby Deana, and...who is that other sacrificial lamb they threw to me? What’s his name?”

“Kirby Jackson. K-Jax, as his nickname seems to read. Seems to be a fresh talent. As fresh as you to the UTA, actually.”

“But clearly fresh to the business. He has no idea what he’s up against, facing a specimen of my exquisite prowess so early on in his career. I almost pity him...if it wouldn’t be so amusing to watch him squirm under my divine might.”

“Perhaps he can be the next Chris Kobaine for you, an astute follower of your word. You take him in, you allow him to carry your bags, to learn from tree of knowledge and mold himself into the image of you.”

“Silence. Before we decide whether or not to allow him to partake of my infinite knowledge, first we must evaluate his ability to form a coherent thought and his physical capabilities. Is this K-Jax the one percent of the UTA masses to be allowed to model himself in the image of the One True God?”

“What are you looking for in him? What are you looking for in this match, Your Grace?”

“In due time, Johnny. Livewire. March twenty-fifth, twenty-twenty. The ascent of the King to claim his new throne...and the appointment of the newest follower – the next loyal subject of the Tenets of Alanism.”

[Abrupt fade.]

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