The SHOOT Informant recently caught up with Dave Dymond who shared his thoughts regarding a variety of topics...
"The Christmas holidays and especially New Year's Eve are always the biggest and busiest times of the year for Pro Wrestling in Japan. Of course Akuma Satsui and KIZU were booked in True Japan Pro Wrestling from mid-December all the way to the first of February. What you saw when we appeared in Las Vegas on December 5, 2011 at Revolution 87 was just a little preview of what is to come. It was a sample. A warning.
However, I am pleased to announce that their contractual obligations in Japan are over as of February 1, 2012. As of that date, we will be returning to the United States to focus on one goal - the annihilation of the so-called "Bad-Ass" Brotherhood. And I'm not talking about taking their World Tag Team Championship Belts. Of course, we'll do that. But that will be just part of it. I'm talking about the systematic dismantling of their entire lives and careers. The end of their lives, as they know them. Those two plebeians stuck their nose in my business and cause me to lose my rivalry with their friend Coleman. They will pay for that. This isn't just about titles. When I'm done with them, Dresden will be lucky to be shovelling horse shit for a living, and Magnus will be working as a male stripper for blind old ladies in Miami.
As far as that idiot John Ragula or whatever his name is, suggesting that any other team deserves to fight the Bad Ass Brotherhood? I said it before and I'll say it again...book Satsui and KIZU in a match against any other team with the Number One Contender spot on the line, and we'll win. We would be glad to earn the spot, and then be legally named the Number One contenders, but we should have been number one on his ridiculous list in his second rate column, anyhow. So as far as he goes, he isn't even qualified to be writing the puzzles on the back of a box of cereal, never mind a wrestling column.
Reckoning Day is not the Pay Per View. It is when Dave Dymond and his Death Squad return to SHOOT from Japan. At least it will be Reckoning Day for the Bad-Ass Brotherhood. So go and buy some insurance, gentlemen. You're going to need it."
The SHOOT Informant has heard information last night after his match with Danny Corsair, that Johnny Napalm Was admitted to local Las Vegas hospital after complaining about headaches. The 31 year old SHOOT Project Soldier who has been dealing with a concussion after the attack by Azrael Goeren at Revolution 89. Dr. Andrew Jacobs spoke to us and said "The concussion that Mr.Napalm got at Revolution 89 was improving before his match with Danny Corsair, He admitted himself with headaches and dizzyness after his match with Danny Corsair. He was showing improvement but it seems were back to square one with his concussion."
Sakura Lee who was with Napalm backstage spoke to us a little after saying "Napalm was in good spirits after his match last night then just about the time I came back in after he had a shower he was saying his head was hurting. I went to grab some asprine and when I came back he looked like he collapsed on the floor"
After Napalm was admitted to the hospital he was quoted in saying "I have not has this bad of a concussion in a long time but this is not stopping me from wrestling at Reckoning Day"
Dr.Jacobs said even though he needs time to recover but with some luck he will be ready for Reckoning Day.
Video tape sent to the SHOOT Project headquarters. No return address. A single note was attached, reading simply “Incentive for The Sheriff of SHOOT.”
The room is dark, the absence of light palpable. Sounds penetrate the darkness, heavy and erratic noises. Machines chugging and churning, steam blasting forth into the atmosphere. Beneath these sounds, we hear heavy, labored breathing.
Light suddenly floods over the scene, and for a moment we’re blinded by the harsh fluorescents. As visibility returns, we see more of the environment. It appears to be some old factory. Large industrial boilers dominate the room, and chains with meat hooks hang down from the ceiling, giving us the idea that this placed once served as a slaughterhouse.
Rust infects almost every piece of machinery in the room, and cobwebs with fat, greedy spiders can be found in just about every corner.
In the background we see an old phonograph, which is currently in the process of playing Tiny Tim’s “Tiptoe Through The Tulips.”
Our attention is caught by the centerpiece of the room…a wide wooden chair with a young woman strapped into it. There’s a hole cut into the bottom of the chair, and beneath sits a grimy slop bucket…which carries a stench that practically burns the nostrils raw.
The young woman wears a tattered red dress; sections ripped wide open to expose bare flesh. Her head hangs low, and her hair is a tangled mess that obscures most of her face. Her wrists and ankles are strapped to the chair with strands of rusted barbwire, and heavy rope is bound about her waist to keep her sitting up straight.
A voice pierces the darkness, low and gravelly…devoid of even the slightest bit of compassion. “I think that’s enough beauty sleep for now, princess. Wakey wakey wakey…show the world that pretty face.”
The woman struggles against her bindings, and then her head raises up to face the camera. There’s no mistaking the features of Alyssa Brower. Her make-up is clumped and grimed across her skin thanks to her own sweat and tears, and little runnels of snot drip down from both of her nostrils. Her bottom lip quivers, and her eyes become saucers of fear when she registers her own Hellish surroundings.
The handheld camera is suddenly picked up and angled away from Alyssa, and we find ourselves looking at a close-up shot of Entragian’s face. Sweat drips down his pallid skin, and his white hair hangs lank about his head. His mouth hangs slightly open…those razor-sharp teeth on full display. Entragian: “Like that dress, Carver? I picked it out myself. Even helped her to…slip into it. You really picked a winner with this one. She’s such a sweet girl. Everything about her…is sweet. She’s like a popsicle on a hot summer day…you just wanna lick…and lick…and lick…”
A smile creeps across the albino’s face, shameless and vile. Entragian: “The love of your life, Carver. Your future wife. Your reason for breathing. She’s here with me, in this cold, dark place…and even while she slept, she called your name. She begged you to save her. The hollow hours have not been kind to this little flower…but she has YET to wilt…because there’s still that infinitesimal glimmer of hope in her heart. She HOPES…she PRAYS…that you’ll deliver her from this nightmare…”
We hear the sound of Alyssa whimpering in the background, and Entragian’s eyes roll up to the whites for a moment as the pure pleasure of that sound assaults his senses. Entragian: “You want to save her, don’t you, Del? There’s only one way to do it. Do not look for us. Do not search for us. Do not attempt to get outside authorities involved in what is and has always been OUR business. I have eyes everywhere, Del. Eyes in the sky, eyes in the fields, eyes in the dirt…I see far, old-timer…and very little escapes my gaze. Don’t fuck up, Del. Don’t do something you’ll regret…”
The camera becomes shaky in Isaac’s hand, and we find ourselves looking down into an old tool box. One pale hand reaches down, and when he brings it back up, he’s holding a pair of rusty shears. Entragian snaps the old scissors together a few times, and Alyssa’s whole body cringes at the sound. Entragian: “I offer you an ironclad guarantee, Diamond Del Carver. I will bring Alyssa to Reckoning Day…and that will be your ONE chance to recapture the love of your life. Just show up, Del. Bring the Iron Fist Championship, and bring your indomitable will. On SHOOT Project’s grandest stage…I want THE LEGEND; I want THE MYTH…THE FABLED…Sheriff of SHOOT. I want you at your absolute best, and I think the fact that I’ve got your little gal will be all the motivation you need.”
Entragian draws closer to Alyssa, scissors in hand, and a little moan starts in the back of her throat. Entragian: “It’s time we put the Iron Fist Division back in the map, Del. It’s time for the war of wars. I told you in the beginning…I’d do everything within the scope of my power to tear that warrior spirit and everlasting heart right out of your chest. It’s about time I make good on my promise…”
Entragian drags the blades of the pair of shears lightly across Alyssa’s cheek, causing the young woman to practically hyperventilate. The blades continue to trail down…until they lightly drag between her breasts to tug at the top button of her dress. Entragian: “How about a little incentive, Del? A little something for you to hold between your fingers and draw strength from as Reckoning Day approaches. Maybe a piece of her ear? How about a square of flesh from her inner thigh? Perhaps one of these tart, hard little nipples. What’s your favorite part of Alyssa, Del? What will TRULY motivate you to give me the greatest challenge of my life at Reckoning Day?”
Alyssa starts to mumble to herself, “please God, please God” over and over again. Entragian leans down and ROARS into her face, spit flying from his lips to splatter against her already filthy face. Entragian: “THERE IS NO GOD HERE, LITTLE GIRL. ONLY ME!!”
Alyssa’s mouth clamps shut immediately, and she does her best to control her sobs. Her eyes are HUGE, and they never leave Isaac’s face. Entragian: “I think I’ve got it! One of her best features. So long and silky….I bet you love to run your gnarled fingers through it, Del.”
Isaac plucks up a tangle of Alyssa’s hair, and using the shears, he cuts a generous lock free. The albino then produces a plastic baggie, and he places the lock of hair inside. Entragian: “Check the mailbox of your Plantation home in the next few days. I’ll have this sent to you ASAP. You’ll be able to smell her scent again, and maybe it’ll remind you of just how much is at STAKE for you, old man. You think you can just cheat me of satisfaction and RETIRE? No fucking dice, Del. We’re gonna have closure, you and I…and once I’ve RUINED you…THEN…and ONLY THEN…will you have my permission to retire.”
Entragian spins the camera around, once again zooming in on Alyssa Brower. Entragian: “Any last words, Alyssa? Make them count.”
Alyssa looks up, her eyes pleading, her voice quavering with emotion. Alyssa: “Please, Del. He’s crazy…I don’t know how much more I can take. I’m begging you, baby. Please just help me to get out of this…I love…you…”
Her head drops, and the tears start to flow with fresh vigor.
The camera spins once more, and the last shot we see is Entragian’s horrid face and his rabid, merciless eyes. Entragian: “I’ll be seeing you, old-timer.”
