View source for 2014.07.15 PWN - LEGACY - Bathing in the Blood of Madness With a Rusted Rubber Duckie

Life has a funny way of Pearl Harboring you, stabbing you about the jugular and torso, and tossing you into traffic to die a gruesome vehicular death. This is what happened to Maxwell Schneider. Not literally though.<br>
<br>
Let's return to&nbsp;Friday, January 3, 2009. The AWA's reunion one-shot "Last Breath". It was the semi-main event. AWA Regional Championship on the line. The second-best strap. The opponent: a man named&nbsp;Konvyct. A legend in the business back then. But if you put your money on&nbsp;Konvyct, you wound up poor in the streets bumming for change, for betting against The Portland Madman is even crazier than <b>he</b> is!<br>
<br>
His last taste of glory, the apex of his career, he was able to leave the reunion show a champion. Returning for one night only, and one night was all it took to reach new heights. Things were going perfectly for Schneider, his... was she his wife? Did we ever find that out? Lovely&nbsp;Navette Rouge, who had to have been insane herself to be attracted to him, but was by his side nonetheless.<br>
<br>
But... he was a second-tier champion of a once-again dead promotion; winning that title meant nothing in the long run. What territory, indy promotion or mainstream company would be brave enough to hire him knowing his penchant for insane violence? It's true his madness was tempered with a modicum of benevolence, but even that was challenged by... the voices. Not the regular voices, no, this was some sinister shit brewing in his mind. But when he returned for that one night, he was, for lack of a better term, lucid once more.<br>
<br>
<sup>But... this was a skosh over five years ago. That was a better time. Good times. <font color="#e65b19" size="4"><b>Good times</b></font>.</sup><br>
<br>
<font color="#32e619"><sub>Nowadays, The AWA Regional Title is nowhere to be seen, sold for food by a desperate man. Nowadays, Navette is nowhere to be seen, having left the destitute Portlandian when he was at his nadir. Nowadays, his only home, a condemned building - well, that was already flattened back when he was still in the AWA, but being employed it was hardly an issue. Nowadays, he's nothing.</sub></font><br>
<br>
<font color="#1979e6">Fast forward back to the beginning. No, not Schneider's bastard birth or hard knocks adolescence, but rather back to the beginning of this little tale.</font><br>
<br>
<b>A legend began to grow, spanning from Oregon all the way down to California. A story of a wild man, most certainly a throwback to</b> <i>Neanderthal Man, wreaking havoc on anyone who looked at him cock-eyed. Jailed, released, beaten, tormented, tormenting, gradually</i><u> descending further into madness, this was no life worth living, but not worth terminating either. So what's a gal to do?!</u><br>
<br>
Well... that legend there... <font face="impact">it was no legend</font>. <font face="arial">It was real</font>. <font face="comic sans ms">Oh, it was legendary all right, but it was real</font>. <font face="verdana">Too real. Realer than Excalibur</font>, realer than Sasquatch, <font size="1">realer than Bulldozer Brixton's career in Legacy.</font> <font face="times new roman">The man was also a myth</font>. A puzzle. A trick of the lights. <font size="3">A scream in the dark</font>. <i>The blood spattered on an alley wall.</i> <b>A toppled mailbox partway on the road.</b> <u>The wild filthy unkempt hair.</u> <sup>The eyes, shining bright with an intelligence that is as daunting as the man's stature.</sup> <sub>A body that doubles as an engine of random acts of violence.</sub> <font face="trebuchet ms">Fueled by broken bones and mindless vengeance.</font><br>
<br>
<font face="arial">Who</font> <font face="comic sans ms">is</font> <font face="courier new">this</font> <font face="georgia">man</font>?<br>
<br>
<div style="text-align:center;"><span style="font-size:10pt;"><font face="impact">Can</font> <font face="times new roman">it</font> <font face="trebuchet ms">be</font>?</span></div><br>
<div style="text-align:right;"><span style="font-size:10pt;"><font face="verdana">It</font> <b>can</b>.</span></div><br>
<div style="text-align:center;"><span style="font-size:10pt;"><i>He</i> <u>is</u>.</span></div><br>
<strike>It's</strike> <font color="#1979e6">Maxwell</font> <font color="#32e619">Schneider</font>!<br>
<br>
<div style="text-align:center;"><font size="1">And</font><font size="2"> he's </font><font size="3">still</font><font size="2"> </font><font size="4">"Perfectly</font><font size="2"> </font><font size="5">Sane".</font><br>
<br>
<br>
<div><font size="2">But our story begins elsewhere. California. Carson, California, to be precise. An event is to take place that will undo all the bad luck in the world. All the woes and misfortunes and worries and hair-pullingly insane violence can finally come to an end.</font><br>
<br>
<br>
<font size="2">Or so it would seem.</font><br>
<br>
<br>
<div style="text-align:left;"><font style="font-size:10pt;">Carson, California, as I said. Yes. A place that hosts the existence of a wrestling promotion called Legacy Wrestling. </font><font size="1"><sub><i>Legacyyyyyyy........</i></sub></font></div><font size="1"><sub><br>
</sub></font><div style="text-align:left;">An undisclosed amount of time before Legacy's second show, Independence Day, the legend wandered into town. Carson. <b>Carson</b>... <b><i>California</i></b>. He was busy <font size="3">lurking in the</font> alleyways, <font face="impact">doing what was needed</font> to remain out of police custody, <i>the hospital</i> and the morgue. Fighting <b>for survival</b>. Food. Drink. <font color="#1979e6">Shelter</font>. Just the basics, but he had to even fight for that. He was good at fighting. He practically never lost; losing meant no eating. No drinking. No <font color="#32e619">shelter. Knuckle</font> sandwiches and <font color="#e65b19">bloody chicletts would</font> be his food. His blood and drool would be his drink. The gutter <font face="comic sans ms">would be his</font> home, and <u>believe you me, the</u> curb makes for a terrible pillow.<br>
<br>
<div style="text-align:center;">So one day,<br>
This day,<br>
Today,<br>
He fought,<br>
Like he did every day,<br>
For survival,<br>
To keep the voices at bay,<br>
For fun,<br>
Broken noses,<br>
Bloody lips,<br>
Dirt in the wounds,<br>
The alley his kingdom,<br>
The trash his peasants,<br>
The other vagrants invaders,<br>
He wielded his sword (crowbar),<br>
And his shield (trashcan lid),<br>
The King of Sanity,<br>
Ready to strike once more,<br>
And something wondrous occurred...<br>
<br>
<br>
<b><i>TBC by: Petey Bauer</i></b></div></div></div></div><br>
<br>
<br>
<font face="arial"><font size="2">After that <s>vicious</s> brutal, totally unprovoked attack on PeteY Bauer by The Scourge of Carson; Alyssa Pryde, he was held up in a hospital room eating generic Jell-O and stuck watching episodes of The Golden Girls from the 80s. He knew it wasn't ALL that bad, despite the injuries Pryde inflicted on him, he still was able to think and talk, he didn't need someone to form an opinion for him which of course, was always a <strike>good</strike> excellent thing.<br>
<br>
What was even better was after a few days under the careful eye of California's best, Bauer was released.. released back into the cruel world that spawned lunatics like Alyssa Pryde who had ZERO intent of becoming a successful professional wrestler, she was just wanted to make people's lives miserable as she was able to do to poor Petey Bauer. With Bauer currently seated in a wheel-chair, a neck-brace on and huge gaze taped across his forehead from the savage wound that was opened by Miss Face-Eater, Bauer was being pushed towards the glass sliding doors by a lovely forty-something year old nurse that took her dress etiquette right out of the 60s. That silly little hat on her head, white stockings and white tennis shoes, plain and completely average it also defined Bauer's stay in the hospital.<br>
<br>
<b>Bauer]: </b>"Remind me to argue with my medical provider regarding paying the bills, this place stinks!"<br>
<br>
The nurse seemed enamored with Bauer's obnoxious personality, all as she leaned in front of him and looked him in the eye.<br>
<br>
<b>Nurse]:</b> "Aw dear, are you grumpy 'cause you're going home today!?"<br>
<br>
Her totally 'always happy' demeanor made someone <Bauer> who enjoyed making people's lives hell.. sad. Bauer didn't give the nurse an immediate response, all as the nurse kissed her fingers and placed it across of the visible skin on Bauer's forehead that WASN'T covered by gaze.<br>
<br>
<b>Nurse]:</b> "You can come visit anytime!"<br>
<br>
<b>Bauer]:</b> "YUCK! DON''T TOUCH ME WITH YOUR.. GERMS! WHAT THE HELL!? TAXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII!"<br>
<br>
His voice cracked from holding the "I" sound for as long as he did, all as the nurse left him outside of the hospital on the curb where a taxi had already been called. Bauer sat in the two wheeled contraption, totally sick with what he was going through. He hated Alyssa Pryde and didn't regret his decision to ban inter-gender wrestling as he felt it was STUPID. There wasn't a sense of reality by watching Alyssa Pryde attempt to bodyslam Drew Stevenson, it was a laughable delusion that promoters allowed to become 'the norm' but Petey Bauer wasn't going to bow to the same standards as the other promotions. Instead, he would gladly make those controversial calls despite possibly catching heat for it.<br>
<br>
<b>Bauer]:</b> ".. I don't know why it's so hard for a taxi to navigate through traffic- people act like they're driving tanks through a China Shop!"<br>
<br>
Bauer was a complainer, it's one of his many talents. As he continued to grumble to himself, across the street where an alley ran between a vintage looking flower shop and variety store combination, a frizzy haired, monster of a man using a steel trash-can lid as a platter for gourmet 'bum food' which was two week old, stale wheat bread thrown out by a local grocery store, chicken that had turned brown and was on the verge of becoming poison and a half empty bottle of Gatorade that was obviously watered down to preserve flavor. Bauer watched the man sort through the trash-- conversing with himself over the topic of some sort of 'belt'. That was as a smaller man- bald, probably of average size and stature who rode a red BMX styled bike with two different colored plastic rims <white and black> moved past the huge man and tried to slap the platter out of his hand..<br>
<br>
<b>Bauer]</b>: "Oh this outta be good.."<br>
<br>
Yes, Petey found entertainment in even the most poor of people. Nonetheless, the grizzled hair, crazy eyed fellow showed the reflexes of a cat and managed to spin away from the man on the bike, all as completing his spin he LEVELED the man with a clothesline that knocked the man OFF of his bike-- sending the BMX into a parked green BMW- setting off the honking alarm.<br>
<br>
<b>Bauer]: </b>"Oooo.."<br>
<br>
The one thing to remember when dealing with Petey Bauer was that his mind never shut off, in order to grasp the job he had in LEGACY, he needed to always be on his toes and basically be an alchemist for the industry that had the ability to turn garbage into value. The grizzled hair, bear-like homeless man that wore a stained and tattered white 'SPRING BREAK 93" shirt and a pair of aged and baggy denim jeans put his foot on the man's chest.. all as Bauer attempted to roll himself closer to the action. Not being able to make out what was being said, Bauer Jayrolled, not walked due to his confinement in the wheelchair, all as he was narrowly hit by a speeding Nissan Murano.<br>
<br>
<b>Bauer] </b>:"SCREW YOU PAL! SLOW DOWN FOR THE HANDICAPPED!"<br>
<br>
The Murano blasted his horn as he zoomed past the homeless man, which caused him to randomly flip off the driver as if it was a scene created for Grand Theft Auto V. Bauer would casually roll up to the situation, the man who was on his back looked deathly afraid of the bigger fellow.<br>
<br>
<b>Bald Fool]: </b>"M- M- Max, I didn't know it was you bro! My k- ki- k- kids are hungry!"<br>
<br>
Instantly registering 'Max' into his mind database, Bauer continued to roll toward the action.<br>
<br>
<b>Max]: </b>"DOES IT LOOK LIKE I GIVE TO SHITS ABOUT YOU OR YOUR KID?!"<br>
<br>
Obviously the man didn't care about kids-- or thieves who were attempting to hijack HIS meal for kids..<br>
<br>
<b>Max]:</b> "You're lucky I don't put my foot through your chest and call it a day."<br>
<br>
<b>Bald Fool]:</b> "I'M SORRY MAX!"<br>
<br>
A siren blasted not too far from the area, Maxwell slowly moved his foot off of the man's chest and planted it down on the concrete as the bald individual jumped back on his bike. Before he could get out of the situation, Max' massive hand reached out and snatched the man by his shirt and yanked him backwards-- as the man's eyes went wide Max smiled.<br>
<br>
<b>Max] </b>:"I was Regional Champion once. I've still got the championship tucked away safely as I wait for the chance to defend it!"<br>
<br>
The bald man had NO idea what Max was talking about, he nodded a few times just to agree with him all as Max turned his head to the side and glared at the man.<br>
<br>
<b>Max]:</b> "I think you know where Navette is, don't you? WHERE'S NAVETTE?! HUH!?"<br>
<br>
By now, the bald man would need a change of clothes and underwear as Max put the fear of GOD into him. Shaking the bald man like a rag-doll, shouting the same question regarding 'Navette' over and over again, Bauer enjoyed the scene so much that he called out to him-<br>
<br>
<b>Bauer]:</b> ".. hey Max!"<br>
<br>
With Max continuing to shake the bald man, his bushy bearded face turned and eyed Bauer-<br>
<br>
<b>Bauer] </b>:"Regional Champion, huh? Sounds impressive.. How about.. You come work for me?"<br>
<br>
<i>dun.. dun.. dun</i> </font></font>
<br>
<br>
Maxwell kicks the bald bastard away, with long shoving boots, as if sweeping them out of his alley. As if he was sweeping away the floor of his abode for his guest. He looked at the man, injured, small, and somehow knowing his name. At least part of it. The "Max" part. The "well" part, that'll come later. And Regional Champion? How did he know about that? Loose lips sink ships! Should he crush this man's windpipe and silence his trickster's song? No... Yes... No!... Yes!... NO!!... YES!!<br>
<br>
...No. Wait and see. Decide later. Plenty of time to crush his windpipe later.<br>
<br>
<b><font face="verdana" color="#04085c">"Work? Like, a job? HAAAAAAAAAAA HAHAHAHAAAAAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaaaa<font size="1">aaaaaaaaaaaa</font><sub><font size="1">aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa</font></sub><sub style="font-size:x-small;">.................</sub></font></b><font size="2"><b><font face="verdana" color="#04085c">"</font></b><br>
<br>
Wait, was he serious? ? ??<br>
<br>
His face went blank.&nbsp;Nonplussed. There wasn't anything to this man's tone that indicated that he was playing games. That he was being serious. THAT HE SHOULDN'T CURRENTLY BE FACE-RIPPED!!!<br>
<br>
<b><font color="#04085c" face="verdana">"I was the Regional Champ in the AWA! I made that Konvyct sonovagun regret the day he crossed my path! I was on top of the world! I was... I was... uh..."</font></b><br>
<br>
He remembered something; no title, no memories, no Navette, no glory, no <b>nothing </b>right now!!!&nbsp;This was his opportunity to be someone again! This was his opportunity to finally eat food that hadn't expired, to drink something without dirt, old bandages and cigarette butts steeping in it... to sleep in a bed that wasn't&nbsp;bed bug-riddled!<br>
<br>
He gave the small man the stink-eye, wary about the proposition. He edged towards him, bending down to get to his eye-level. He breathed heavily through his nose, much to the smaller man's delight. He was trying to intimidate him to blurt out the truth...<br>
<br>
<b><font color="#04085c">"Mister... you're lookin' for a man like <i>me</i>? Me? ME?! I don't think you understand what you're <i>askin'</i> here!"</font></b></font>
<br>
<br>
<br>
<font face="arial"><font size="2">With Maxwell as close as he was, Bauer could feel the man's breath and.. smell him. It was as if he didn't take a shower for ages which wouldn't actually surprise anyone as Maxwell had apparently had it rough since the days of the AWA. With Schneider's empty, emotionless gaze fixed on Bauer.. Petey restrained a show of fear or disgust from the strench and smiled.<br>
<br>
<b>Bauer]:</b> Oh, I know exactly what I'm asking for. Look at me! I'm damn near cripple status! I've got inmates in the asylum who think they're able to throw their weight around and put their hands on me and I'm not having it!<br>
<br>
<b>Max]: </b>An asylum!?<br>
<br>
Bauer smirked, all as he waved his hand at Maxwell, Schneider returned back to his standing position all as he kept his eyes fixed on Bauer.<br>
<br>
<b>Bauer]:</b> .. I actually am the commissioner of a promotion in Carson city. Wretched place to base a company, especially with Santa Monica so close by but hey.. I can't complain. But yes Maxwel- a job, a job where you can.. take a shower, eat regular food and not have to worry about someone on a bike trying to joust so they can take your dinner. Be my muscle Maxwell, be the one man gang of my personal security.. make sure I'm protected from idiots like Alyssa Pryde as I do my job and you'll get paid, and paid handsomely!<br>
<br>
Money may not be important to Schneider but A LOT of it could sway his mind.. possibly. Bauer knew he was taking a huge chance with this, he didn't know much of the man aside of his self-confessed truths regarding being AWA Regional Champion and beating some man named Konvyck- but the risk was worth the gamble. Even if Maxwell would turn the offer down and return to his life of surviving in alleys through the United States and dumpster-digging for meals.. Bauer implanted the idea into Maxwell's head and that was good. Did Bauer have an ulterior motive? Of course he did, but it wasn't to use Maxwell- well, not too much anyway. Petey understood that after the beating Pryde dished his way at Friday the 20th, some may get ideas to replicate the behavior.. but not if Maxwell Schneider was standing with him. The size and look of the man was enough to send someone packing with their tail tucked in between their legs.. and if that didn't do it? The odor that left Schneider's body would!<br>
<br>
<b>Bauer]: </b>As you can tell, I'm not a professional wrestler- I'm an official, I'm a guy that lays the law down because there's too much gutless cowards to do so! So tell me Maxwell, are you interested in getting your life back on track- will you be the man who protects my best interests from those cowards who can't take the law I have to put down?!<br>
<br>
Making sure to NOT make it seem like he was challenging Schneider, Bauer needed to watch the verbiage so it came across more of a request, which it did. Petey looked on, he too didn't allow any trace of emotion to cross his face as he wanted to make sure Schneider didn't see how desperate he truly was for someone to be there in case ANOTHER Alyssa Pryde situation occurred. Sitting in his wheel-chair with a bandage taped across his forehead looking absolutely ridiculous.. Bauer waited on Maxwell's answer..<br>
<br></font></font>
<br>
<br>
<br>
<font color="#1929e6"><b>"Maxwell looked at the little man, the poor, broken little man, and felt pity. ...<i>Pity</i>? Man, <i>that</i> was somethin', huh? A guy like Maxwell Schneider, pardon me, '<i>Perfectly Sane</i>' Maxwell Schneider feelin' anything for anyone! It was a shock to him, as he stood there silently. He thought the idea the little man proposed to him was an attractive offer, but there's gotta be a catch, <i>right</i>? Nah, ol' Maxie should just accept the offer blindly, because <i>anythin's</i> better than eatin' crap and drinkin' dirty water. Now, that's fine and all, livin' free and easy, travellin' the land, beatin' people up,... but eventually, even the big bad Maxwell's gonna wanna sleep lyin' down and with both eyes closed. Five years is too long ta sleep like that."</b></font><br>
<br>
<div style="text-align:center;"><span style="font-size:10pt;">Maxwell </span><font face="impact" style="font-size:10pt;">cocks his head</font><span style="font-size:10pt;"> to the side ever so slight</span><font color="#bde619" style="font-size:10pt;">ly. He catc</font><span style="font-size:10pt;">hes glimpses of fa</span><sup>cts peppered throughout Petey Bauer's words. Where they mattered most to Maxwell, the facts rang true. His eyes bored through the sm</sup><font size="2">aller man's scleras, past the retinas, deep into the brain. The very core of the Bauer's mind, his very essence. His fixed <u>gaze</u> transcends time, space, reality</font><br>
<br>
<div style="text-align:right;"><span style="font-size:10pt;">itself. He can see the booker's very soul! The truth tries to duck and cover, but even a conceptual paradigm like the soul stands little chance to the very countenance of </span><font size="3">The Portland Madman</font><span style="font-size:10pt;">. Bauer surely feels a <b>microscopic frac</b>tion of Maxwell's madness seep into his own <font face="comic sans ms">psyche, if but only</font> for a fleeting moment.</span></div></div><br>
<i>Yea, Maxwell can see</i> all these things <font color="#e619cd">and more...</font><br>
<br>
...But couldn't remember <font size="1">that he was</font> narrating everything he said aloud.<br>
<br>
<b><font color="#1929e6">"Mister, I don't even know your name, but it don't matter much, huh? Ya got me dead ta rights, don'tcha? So I guess what I'm sayin' is... draw me a bath and order me some steak and onions! Maxie's comin' home!"</font></b><br>
<br>
Mama Schneider didn't raise a fool; wh<font face="times new roman">ether Maxwell truly kne</font>w the full ext<font color="#19c5e6">ent of the s</font>mall man's plans or not, the offer as it stood was perfection itself: beat people up, get to eat, beat people up, get to look up at a honest-to-gosh<br> 
<br>
<div style="text-align:center;"><span style="font-size:10pt;">ceiling again while <sub>dozing,</sub> beat people up, <font face="arial">drink clean water, and</font> did I mention <i><font color="#6b9c5b">beat people</font></i> up?</span></div><br>
He extends his <b>hand for Petey</b> to shake<i> before shaking his head</i>, smacking it over and <u>over again, then exten</u>ds both arms and goes in for a (somewhat) broken-man-friendly bearhug, definitely <br>
<br>
much <br>
<br>
to <br>
<br>
Petey's <br>
<br>
chagrin.