Unfortunately in our society, the one created by us for us, it has become all too common a practice for one to become their job. In this unsustainable practice we are taught if you possess no career or even a lowly job your existence is worthless. In these trying times almost ten percent of Americans, the keepers of this society, are worthless. It is in that basis alone that Remy Leroux has found some comfort. It was four months ago Leroux's star was burning brightly. The place he called home had a relaxed schedule, epic events and a seemingly devote following. The people behind the company seemed to know what to do in order to keep asses in seats. After a small snafu with the Louisiana Board of Corrections, more to the point their department of parole, Leroux returned to Orlando to find the promotion had been 'Modell'ed. The people sitting behind the scenes had pulled the Orlando based promotion out of their home base to take them to New York City. Now in another twist of fate, Leroux was one of those unfortunate worthless Americans. Thankfully his gambling was always a pretty profitable venture for him. Around every major city in the United States if one was so inclined they could find major or minor stakes poker games everywhere. Is gambling illegal in your state? Trust us on this one, there are suckers with money just begging to be plucked. Orlando was packed with them. Secret clubs of men, some powerful, some barely getting by but all devout on the risking of their fortunes. While this business was lucrative it left something to be desired in polite society. Not that he'd ever admit it but a part of him, a small portion of his make-up was his father which meant he wanted to be accepted by the upper crust if you will. Because of that he needed a more on the level career, which meant he needed wrestling. That concept seemed so foreign to the former Asylum Fighter. Wrestling wasn't something to Remy he could have ever seen himself missing. It was what he did, not what defined him. For Christ's sake he rode as an independent for five years on the Louisiana track... everyone knew Leroux was a stand-up guy. There was a time when Remy would toss a couple back, pick up two or three fresh co-eds and paint the room for hours... and hours. These days when he tosses back a couple he finds himself telling stories of the 'good ole times' in the wrasslin biz. What in the fuck was happening to him? Remy couldn't believe his eyes each and every morning when he stared into his reflection in the water of his run down motel room. Thankfully for him back when the wrestling business was profitable Remy knew how to hustle a deal and he collected enough to ride out a recession, if necessary. He reached into the bottom of the porcelain sink and splashed the cool water over his face. Once the water resettled Leroux noticed some new wrinkles, 'Time heals all wounds mah ass.' he announced walking back out of the bathroom and into the bedroom. He'd grabbed the latest copy of 'The Gambler' the local poker scene magazine to find his next game. “An’ how is chu tahday?” Remy asked looking over a particular ad. “One playah, five card stud at dah local fiah station... Ah’ll be chure huckleberry.” Remy cracked a grin, there was nothing better than taking some hard earned money off some civil servants. Poor saps didn’t need that money... sides’ he was probably doing them a favor anyway. Remy had a knack for dismissing any hardships he may or may not be causing to others. More than likely he was just karma's way of extracting justice from the unjust, at least that’s what he had hoped for in most cases. The fans who ran into Remy at the card games couldn’t believe their eyes most of the time. Leroux dressed exactly as he did when competing, sleeveless vest, button down, matching dress slacks the only difference in the world he didn’t sport those shiny patten leather wrestling boots. Tap, tap, tap From nowhere a tapping was heard from the motel room door. Less like a finger and more like a fingernail... Leroux sauntered over by the door when... BOOOM! A massive fist bursts through the door leaving nothing but a huge hole in the door. Remy jumped back grabbing firmly at the handle of his chromed out forty-five. Click, click... the sound announced this situation had just gotten real when an angelically evil little face appeared in the hole, “Why Remy Leroux,” she said with a matching Cajun drawl, “is dhat ah gun in y’all’s hand or are y’all jus’ happy tah see us?” Usually a face like that, an attractive woman would bring a smile to his face... at the very least a rise to his pants. This seductress only seemed to raise Leroux’s blood pressure. “Soh Remy why soh rude, ain’t y’all gonnah invite lil’ ole us in?” “Not if Ah can help it,” Remy grumbled half under his breath, “Wha’ ch’all want here Preistess?” “Meh an’ yure’ lil’ brotha jus’ heard dah news bout LoC an’ New York... we jus’ had tah see you while you dhis down,” she smiled, it was more than apparent the raven haired minx felt no compassion towards her brother in law. “Ah mean Remy why noh call? You know we like to hear bout yure hardships jus’ as much as anyone else.” “Git bent witch,” he snapped back as he tucked his pistol in the lower of his back. BOOOM! The door shot from the hinges and collapsed to the floor, “Ah’d watch that mouth of yure’s Remy... seems lil’ brotha doesn’t find y’all as entertainin’ as he used too.” From the shadows of the hall emerged a monster of a man, his white hair with black streaks was almost the opposite of the much smaller woman’s jet black hair with white streaks, “Harley,” Remy greeted with a disapproving glare. The monster didn’t soo much as look in his direction. “Now poh’ lil’ Remy seems tah be all alone out dhere on dhat island.” The female poked fun as she traced her curving hips with both hands, “it jus’ makes meh all...” “Devilish?” Remy responded with a sly smile. The female smiled, not from the humor but more from her own personal amusement, “Noh mah dear, not devilish.. Ah’d definitely call it being turned on... t’ink bout’ it for jus’ a sek fair Missah La’roo. Ah’m positive ah bright man such as yoorself will see the joke.” “Sorry Chere’, unless dere is ah point here Ah’ll be havin’ tah ask ch’all tah leave.” He knew when he uttered the words his “guests” weren’t going to just up and leave. He also knew if he didn’t start to press them soon the point might never be made, on account of the hatred and all. “Soh Ah hate tah cut dis lil’ rendezvous short but...” “Oh there’s ah point Remy,” the female insisted, “in fact there could be multiple points, all stuck in yoor pretty lil’ chest if you choose not tah play ball.” “Ah an’ see dhere in lies dah problem, Chere’.” Leroux smiled, he knew his wit and charms were getting to his sister-in law, “now dhere-in lies dah problem, Ole Remy tain’t nevah played wit’ ah ball ah day in his life.” “Cute La’roo, but here be one ah dhem times when dose wit’s might jus’ be yoor undoin’.” she snarled exposing her sharp little fangs. “but should yoo jus’ do az yure tole’ foh’ once yoo might even make ah priddy penny ouddah dis.” “Oh bruddah why’d chu have tah go an’ hook up wit’ dis slimy lil’ minx?” he questioned looking directly at the closed eyes of his brother. The beast of a man just stood dormant. “Remy, Remy, Remy, when will y’all jus’ learn? Any question fah Harley should jus’ be sent in mah direction, Ah’ll tell him how he feel ‘bout it latah.” she laughed with a twinkle in her black, compassionless eyes. “Aftah all dese years an’ yoo still try an’ talk tah him... how cute.” Remy sucked down a quick gasp of oxygen, “Listen here Priestess Ah mightah missed on mah gamble wit’chu. Make noh mistake dough, Chere’. Chu keep at pokin’ dis bear an dhere jus’ might be some hell ah chure own tah be payin’, savvy?” “eN Bee Dubyah, Mistah La’roo. eNBeeDubyah, word is instead ah cuttin’ dere budget from dah talent’s end, dem boi’s is nestlin’ down right in St. Louey...” she stated in a very matter of fact tone, “an’ Harley an’ Ah mean tah be signin’ back up dhere.” “Sounds like chu’ve got eeriet’ing in hand Priestess, wha’chu need wit’ meh?” he inquired reaching into his ashtray and pulling out the remainder of his last Backwood. “Cause ‘less chu ain’t been payin’ attention Chere’ Ole Remy don’ xactly play nice, nice wit’ jus’ any ole body. Ah’ve spent dhese lass’ few years on mah own doin’ quite well mind chu.” “Yes Ah can cee the fruits of yoor labor,” she replied sarcastically, “now if yoor finished with the jokes, we have some business to discuss, some wrestling business.” “Listen here Priestess, Ah ain’t gettin’ involved wit’ noh bidness concernin’ chu.” Leroux tipped his head which rolled his brown eyes to a peer. “Now as Ah was sayin’ Ah t’ink it’s high time chu an’ chure stuffed bear roll on ouddah here, savvy?” There was a tense pause through the room, the petite porcelain doll with the raven hair eyeballed the slick Cajun customer Remy Leroux. In a fashion he could truly appreciate the Priestess rolled a card from under her almost skin tight long sleeved top. The gesture brought a smile to his hardened glare. With the tips of her crimson fingernails she extended the card out in Remy’s general direction. The stare resumed, on the one hand Leroux could reach out and slap the shit out of this bitch who basically broke up the Cajun Beetles. I mean seriously what was she planning for an encore, breaking up the starting offense of the Saints?! There was a time back in Universal Wrestling when Remy Leroux and his brother Harley Grimm were a young team on the come. Mister Universal Wrestling himself Tony Field reached out and handpicked Hell’s Cajuns, who some speculated was a direct admission of being involved with the notorious Hell’s Angels. Those claims were never proven and denied feverishly. Remy hesitantly took the card, he gave it the quick once over. “eNBeeDubyah, Ah thought dhese cats had folded up shop. It’s noh mattah anyhow, jus’ cause Ah didn’t goh tah dah big city don’ mean Ah got mah contract back from dhem damn Darkhearts.” “Celeste an’ Gideon, lovely people aren’t dhey?” his sister in law smiled, “ah shame dhey had to uproot an’ head north. Mah dear Mistah La’roo Ah t’ink yoo undah estimate the sway of mah voice. Aftah talkin’ tah meh on y’all’s behalf dhey completely agreed yoor talents were waistin’ away here. Soh dhey agreed tah sell yoor contract fah ah price.” “Not inturested,” Remy fired back while climbing to his feet. “An’ since ch’all like dis shithole soo much chu can stay an’ Ah’ll goh.” As gracefull as a ballerina Leroux quickly snatched up his leather trenchcoat. With a quarter twist over the double bed he landed each foot in the correct boot and scampered towards the door where he bit down on a fresh Backwood. He struck a stick match against his course jeans. He took a strong pull from his choice of smokes and smiled. “Now Chere’ Ole Remy wants tah t’ank y’all personally, soh Ah t’ink Ah jus’ might make ah lil’ pit stop ovah dhere in eNBeeDubyah.” Leroux smiled seeing the red creep in on the face of his female nemesis. “Harley chu jus’ keep followin’ ordahs bruddah, Ah knoe dis ain’t really chu.” Remy dipped out the door into the safe shadows of the hall. Once his eyes closed not a trace of him remained, no footfalls, not even a creaking board to say “he went this way”. The frustrating part? Leroux has always had a natural spirit about him, a gift to make almost every task seem effortless. The danity female pulled her nails across the pressed dresser leaving four cut wounds in the wood. “La’roo dhere is ah price tah be paid, weddah it be by blood or yoor careerah we’ll be lookin’ foh payment in full.”
The Keystone Championship was defended as a part of the NA Championship in an interpromotional match at F.A.T.E?
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