Your Real Name: Eddie Hawn
Your Email: [listed in the forum as private]
Your Experience in E-Feds
Five years’ or so experience in various e-wrestling federations such as New Extreme (later New Era Wrestling), serving as their World Heavyweight Champion on five different occasions as my most popularly-used character, “Blue Inferno” Steve Grant. Also spent some time in other federations which, at the moment, I can’t recall. I was last fully active in e-wrestling in about 2003-04.
Wrestler's Name: “The Lion” John Grant
Wrestler's Real Name (Optional): Jonathan Steven Grant
Wrestling Style: High-flying, technical wrestling
Face/Heel: Face
Age: 18
Height: 6’3”
Weight: 227 lbs.
Hometown: San Francisco, CA
Theme Music: “Hells Bells” by AC/DC
Finishing Maneuvers: Running Tiger Bomb, Superfly Splash
Signature Maneuvers: Flying Space Tiger Drop (while opponent is out of the ring, John bounces off the ropes, does two running backflips, and vaults over the top rope, landing on his opponent in an Asai moonsault), Inferno Kick (superkick)
Favorite Moves: Tiger Suplex, figure-four leglock, STF, STO, Lion Pounce (Side Effect), knife-edge chops (usually three in a row in the corner), snap-suplex, missile drop-kick
Overview of your character:
Appearance: John is Caucasian, with an athletic, swimmer’s build, with wavy blonde hair that goes halfway down his neck in a crew cut. He has blue eyes and no facial hair, and wears black-and-gold wrestling pants and boots.
Backstory: “The Lion” John Grant is the first second-generation member of the Grant wrestling family, which includes his legendary father, five-time NEW World Champion “Blue Inferno” Steve Grant; his uncle and former light-heavyweight star “The Tiger” Brian Grant, and his uncle-in-law, “Tombstone” Adam Holiday. When John was born to Steve and Rachel Grant in 1992, Steve was already starting off his wrestling career jerking the curtain in Ultimate Japan Pro Wrestling. John was raised in the wrestling business, and saw its highest moments—such as Steve winning his first World Championship in 1998—and its lowest moments, such as Steve’s greatest enemy murdering John’s mother.
From the age of ten, John began wrestling for his middle-school team, and regularly trounced larger, more experienced opponents with his quickness and gift for strategy. Steve and Brian had insisted upon teaching John the “right way” to wrestle, and for them it wasn’t “the stuff you see us do on television”—it was grappling, takedowns and headlocks. John would have to work for everything he got; no one was going to give it to him.
John was an above-average student in high school, getting mostly Bs and developing a tremendous interest in mechanical engineering; meanwhile on the athletic front, he double-lettered in wrestling and football. Yet the reputation of his father prompted many a student to try and pick a fight with John just to prove they could take down “the son of a legend”. When that happened, John would usually end it with just one punch, taking his father’s advice: “In a real fight, the first person to connect usually ends up winning.” John earned an unfair status as a troublemaker because of this, but his innate charm helped keep him out of trouble most of the time.
John was accepted to the University of San Francisco as an engineering major for the 2008-09 school year, but despite that, his heart truly lies in wrestling. And so, after completing a grueling six-month course at his uncle Steve’s “Inferno Wrestling Academy”, John has applied to join the World Wrestling Alliance, hoping to build a name for himself in the business that his family has given so much to.
Sample RP:
--ON--
San Francisco, CA
December 9, 2009
8:34 a.m. PDT
“Once there was a way to get back homeward…
Once there was a way to get back home…
Sleep, pretty darling, do not
…
And I will sing a lullaby…”
Listening to the remastered Abbey Road album by The Beatles on his iPod as he jogs down a sidewalk in the middle of San Francisco, California, John Grant—who, in the ring, called himself “The Lion”, as in a hungry young lion eager to prove his supremacy to the pack—lightly sings the words along with Paul McCartney about midway through the fifteen-minute-long medley that ends the last album The Beatles ever put together. John unfortunately inherited his mother’s sense of pitch, and so he’s slightly off-key, but he’s focused enough on his jogging that he doesn’t notice. Besides, in this part of town (and in this kind of cold) there aren’t really a lot of people out to care.
Wearing a light, black jacket with the letters “DV” in flaming blue letters on the back of it, along with black jogging pants, mittens, and Converse running shoes, John is protected, somewhat, from the near-40-degree weather. He could see his breath in front of him, but it didn’t bother him—he’s learned that battling the elements, whether they were the sub-zero temperatures of his father’s native Juneau, Alaska, or the ninety- and hundred-degree days of the California summers—is the best way to truly tell how someone will hold up against real physical pressure.
Not to mention that singing while jogging was a good way to practice breath control.
In this instance, John wasn’t just jogging for his health; he was jogging to the Inferno Wrestling Academy, the place where his uncle had spent six months from April to October torturing him and fifteen other kids in an effort to churn out the wrestling superstars of tomorrow. At least, it had started out as fifteen other kids. John remembered speaking with one of the Academy’s most notable graduates, Antonio Mason, who had gone on to a quite successful career in Japan and Mexico, and having Tony tell him that the Academy was one of the hardest physical regimens he’d ever been through. Antonio had been a three-time All-State linebacker in high school, so John had known what he’d been getting into when he applied…
…or, at least, he thought he had.
Any illusion that the five-time World Champion was going to take it easy on John just because he was his son was shattered in the first five minutes the younger Grant had spent on the mat. Steve had forgotten more wrestling moves than most people will ever know, and damn if he hadn’t applied more than a handful of them on John.
As usual, the Academy had a high washout rate for 2009: Steve Grant demanded nothing but excellence and the deepest commitment from his students, and many people weren’t prepared for that. But in the end, three students prevailed and graduated from the Academy: Barry Andrews, a guy who’d started out hating John’s guts (and nicknamed him “Spoon Boy” after the silver spoon John allegedly was born with in his mouth) but had ultimately come to respect him; Violet Waters, the first female graduate in the Academy’s four-year history; and John.
It’s Violet who greets John by raising up on her toes and shyly kissing his lips when she sees him just outside the Academy’s door. True to her name, Violet was wearing purple; purple, yellow and white were all she seemed to wear, in fact, from the Lakers warm-up jacket to her purple sweatpants and white tennis shoes (with purple highlights). The 5’7”, bespectacled, cream-colored African-American looks much more like a chemistry major at the University of San Francisco than a future professional wrestler. But she was, in fact, both. The shy kiss she greeted John with was an acknowledgement that they were still in the early stages of a romantic relationship. They’d actually met at the university, ironically; John had just finished some homework at the library and was killing time with a Sudoku puzzle book when Violet saw him and commented that she loved Sudoku. Their friendship had started quite easily after that.
Though she’d been friends with John for a month or two before they separately came to the Inferno Wrestling Academy, Violet had been stunned to learn that John was the son of “Blue Inferno” Steve Grant, whom Violet had grown up watching and admiring. John, in turn, had been amazed that the admittedly-nerdy Violet had any interest whatsover in professional wrestling.
Going through the fire together tends to leave the survivors much closer, and that was certainly true with John and Violet, who’d started dating two weeks before graduating the Academy. They’d agreed to let things progress at their own pace, and thus they were still a little shy, a little tentative around each other. Violet had had no serious boyfriends in high school; just a couple of disastrous first dates, but she liked John and wanted to make sure this relationship went right.
“You’re up early this morning,” John comments as he gave his girlfriend a light hug, and upon breaking the hug he slips a hand into his jacket to turn off his iPod and then removes the earphones.
“Yeah well, Harry told me you’d be showing up to view your first promo video in its completed form.” For her part, Violet had already completed a promo video and sent it to ten wrestling federations across the country, but had yet to hear back from any of them. If she was disheartened by it, she’d never shown it around John; besides, the chemistry degree she was working towards would ensure her a job in any number of fields when all was said and done. At the moment she was holding down employment with a start-up paint company.
“If nothing else, that 25-minute classic I had with Antonio on Halloween night should be more than enough to impress the scouts,” John says, feeling a burst of confidence as he remembered the night that he and Antonio Mason had put on a masterpiece of high-flying, brawling and technical wrestling at Shane’s Pub in Alameda. The shows that his father put on weren’t designed to replicate the big-time feel of the major pro wrestling federations of yore, but more the cult feel of the old ECW and small-time bingo-hall operations. But he stressed more than anything the ability to wrestle and the ability to entertain; he would have nothing to do with “garbage wrestling”.
“Hell, the highlights alone would convince me,” Violet says with a smile. “The Flying Space Tiger Drop that missed and wiped out the referee and the guy at the concession stand… the reversal of the Death Valley Driver that ended in a Tiger Suplex… and you got so much elevation on the Superfly Splash at the end I thought you’d never come down.”
John kisses Violet again, and says, “I’m glad to see my girlfriend, anyway, isn’t lacking in confidence. What about the actual interview? What’d you think of that?”
Violet, perhaps sensing that John wanted an honest critique of his interviewing skills, takes a moment or two to think before replying. “It reminded me a lot of your father in the latter days of his career,” she decides. “If you had butterflies up there, it certainly didn’t show. You displayed a level of confidence in your abilities that’s remarkable for someone who’s only had a handful of actual professional matches.” Violet takes a slight stutter-breath here, and John already knows her well enough to know that the constructive criticism was about to come.
“You may have shown a little bit too much bravado, in fact,” she adds. “You put a lot of pressure on yourself to succeed in the business—and, really, in everything you do. Almost like you’re afraid that if you don’t work hard every moment of every day, someone’s going to come and snatch everything away from you.”
John purses his lips, nodding slowly. Violet’s honesty was one of the things he’d come to admire about her, and that honesty was always couched in tact. “You might be right about that: I do put a lot of pressure on myself. I do want, very much, to succeed in the wrestling business.”
“Because of your father?” Violet asks, her tone making it pretty obvious that she already knows the answer.
Again, John nods. “And Uncle Brian. And even Uncle Adam. The three of them combined won just about every championship in every division—heavyweight, light-heavyweight, tag-team—that they set their minds to getting.” Indeed, it was the style of John’s uncle, “The Tiger” Brian Grant—far moreso than his father’s—that John had emulated in developing his own wrestling abilities. A lot of that had to do with the phyiscal differences between Steve and John: John was 6’3”, 227 pounds—tall by normal standards but about average among his wrestling peers. Steve, on the other hand, was 6’9”, 295 pounds in his wrestling days (though he was about 305 pounds in retirement). Steve Grant had been able to do insanely high-flying moves that were nearly unprecedented for a man of his size, and it was because of his martial-arts training and tremendous flexibility and conditioning.
John had no martial-arts training to speak of, and he also lacked Steve’s sheer power and size. Therefore, he had to rely on his technical mastery, speed, and high-flying ability.
“My father and Uncle Adam were so driven and determined to reach the absolute heights of the business,” John continues. “Even though they were best friends most of their careers, and later family, it didn’t matter to them if they were fighting alongside one another or against each other.”
“‘In this business, you can make friends or you can make money,’” Violet quotes, repeating the words that Chief Jay Strongbow once said to Scott Hall and Kevin Nash.
“Right,” John says, nodding in agreement. He’d always wondered, though, whether Uncle Brian agreed with that philosophy. Based on his more modest list of career accomplishments compared to Steve, he doubted it was so.
“Well, let’s get in there,” Violet says, “and see the video that Harry and the gang have put together for you.”
Smiling, John takes Violet’s hand and walks into the Inferno Wrestling Academy with her, his calm demeanor belying the anxiety he felt at this moment. This video could either kick-start a career for him, or, in twenty years’ time, lie covered with dust at the bottom of a moving box somewhere.
~*~*~
A few minutes later…
Having removed his jacket to reveal a Sgt. Pepper album cover T-shirt underneath it, John sits with Violet in the darkened film room of the Academy, watching the video that he’d put together. Highlights of his match with Antonio Mason at Shane’s Pub start the video off, showing, of course, the offensive and defensive moves that were in John’s favor. In real life, the match had been far more back-and-forth than one might assume by watching the highlight video. But highlight videos weren’t meant to emulate real life; they were meant to spotlight one individual in particular.
John knows that the complete video of the match will also be sent to the wrestling promotions that he’s applying for, and so he doesn’t feel bad that the highlight video shows Tony (whom he had tremendous respect for) getting his ass kicked. And anyone who really knew wrestling would know that Tony’s ability to take those bumps was just as impressive as John’s ability to perform the moves in the first place.
So John watched, seeing these highlights for the first time. He’d consulted Harry Jaffee, the video editor—as well as Steve and Brian Grant—as to what moves he would like to have spotlighted, but he hadn’t yet had the opportunity to see himself wrestle on video. They’d certainly spared no expense, either: The video was a dual-layer DVD/Blu-Ray combo, presented in 1080p, and displayed on a large flat-screen television. The film footage had been shot in anamorphic widescreen format. “Blue Inferno” Steve Grant was a multi-millionaire several times over, and he wasn’t afraid to use that money to provide the best for his students.
John watched as he springboard-vaulted off the top rope, and was caught by Antonio. Tony had prepared to hit a fallaway slam, but John had grabbed the back of his knee and pulled him down to his back. There was another highlight of the Death Valley Driver reversal into a Running Tiger Bomb; the Flying Space Tiger Drop that took out the referee and the concession stand guy, sending popcorn and soda flying everywhere (but missing Antonio completely); the STF, figure-four leglock and Sharpshooter he’d applied at various points during the match; and, finally, a high-elevating Superfly Splash that ended John’s first professional match with a win. John lets out a whistle as he realizes for the first time how close he’d coming to slamming his head against the ceiling.
Then came the promo part of the video, during which announcer Alex Yost interviewed John following his match, while “Hells Bells” by AC/DC played lightly in the background to compliment it. John knew that this last bit showed some technical mastery from Harry and the gang: When the interview had been taking place, “Hells Bells” was blaring from the sound system. John had had to strain to be able to hear Alex’s questions over the din.
Alex Yost was dressed nattily in a brown sports coat, blue-and-silver tie and pants, and was about fifty years old. His neat appearance contrasted considerably with John, who looked like he’d just come through hell—but at least he’d come out triumphant.
“Thanks Quinn, and I’m standing here now with the winner of tonight’s epic main event, ‘The Lion’ John Grant.” Turning to angle towards John now, Alex continues to speak. “John, you were born and raised in this business. You’re the son of the great, former world heavyweight champion ‘Blue Inferno’ Steve Grant, and a graduate of the Inferno Wrestling Academy in San Francisco. What does it feel like to win your first professional match?”
When John spoke, his breath was still quite elevated from the hard work he’d put in, but he wasn’t out of breath. “Well, Quinn, it’s the culmination of months of hard work training to become one of the bright young stars of the business. The Inferno Wrestling Academy churns out only the most capable, most determined individuals, with the strongest, most disciplined minds. As you can probably tell by the way Tony and I brought down the house tonight, I didn’t breeze through the Academy just because my father was teaching me.”
“And I know you’re not satisfied with simply one great match,” Alex replied, stating the obvious. But then, it was supposed to be a leading question.
“Absolutely not; the Grant family of wrestlers has always been a family that strives to be the unqualified best at what we do.” John spoke with a steady intensity, and while he’d organized his thoughts in advance of the interview, he was, generally speaking, improvising what he was saying. “At the peak of his career, there was no wrestler, in any federation, whom my father couldn’t beat. I know I’ve only had one match, but I’m hungry for more. I want to prove myself against the greatest competition in the world, and establish my name as a champion just like my father, my uncle, and my uncle-in-law. Hell—I want to one day surpass all of them.
“So to every professional wrestling promoter in the world—if you’re looking for someone who will push himself every day to put on the highest-caliber, most entertaining matches, someone who’ll come in early and stay late, and do whatever it takes to make himself—and the company—successful, you’re looking at him. And for every one of the guys in the back, you’d better start worrying about protecting your spots, because this hungry young Lion is coming, and he’s not playing with kid gloves.”
Both Johns—the one on-screen talking to Alex, and the one in real-life sitting next to Violet—chuckle softly at his use of a mixed metaphor there.
With that, the screen fades to black, and “Hells Bells” by AC/DC continues to play, a little louder than before, before it, too, fades. Then the lights come up in the film room.
“Looks good, Harry,” John says to the very talented, albeit a little skittish, technical manager before the latter could utter a word.
“I agree,” Violet opines, giving John’s hand a light squeeze. “I know you’re gonna be sending it to, like, fifteen different places, but where do you hope to end up?”
“Well, the World Wrestling Alliance is gonna be starting up again in mid-January,” John tells her. “They’re gonna start off slowly, kind of having more of an independent feel to it, so it’ll be ripe for opportunities for a young wrestler to prove himself and move up the ranks.”
“Looks like you’ve already got this all mapped out,” Violet tells him, and a sheepish grin and shrug from John confirms that without words. “Well, wherever you end up, I know you’ll put on a show, and make your family—and me—proud.”
John blushes lightly, and gives Violet a soft kiss on the lips.
--OFF--
