Jump to content
TSM Forums
Sign in to follow this  
Secret Agent

The Wrestling Identity

Recommended Posts

July 01, 2003. A day before SWF Storm.


Las Vegas, Nevada



“We need to call him up.”


“Where’s he at?”


“The same place he’s always at...”



Caesars Palace





“Well it‘s about damn time.” says Jennifer, a waitress for Caesars Palace as she stood next to the bar waiting for her customers drinks. “That same guy was sitting at that exact slot machine when I got off work last night!”


“Heh,” Carmillo, the Bartender, chuckled slightly as he placed several drinks onto her tray. One Pina Colada, a Sex on the Beach, Margarita on the rocks, and a Boilermaker for the one who refuses to leave the frat house. “You know the Senior crowd is the worst. They come in here and play all day until they win, and it’s not just the nickel machines either.” he shruged his shoulders, placing a red straw into the Margarita. “Five, ten, hell sometimes even the twenties.”


“Yeah well, when I’m old and gray I hope to be as far away from here as possible. she says with a smile, then gently grabbed her drink tray and headed off towards the Roulette tables.



Decked out in the traditional bunny suit of Las Vegas Casino waitresses, Jennifer grabbed the attention of many men here as she passed by them. Some were less then desirable to hang all over and fetch them drinks, but the money was good, and she was good at what she did. Get them piss drunk so they would spend all of their money, leaving them with nothing to take home, and never having to take any of them home either! After all, That’s what the other girls were for.


Sometimes though you could bring them drinks all night, and they never seemed to spend a single chip. “Just like this one” she thought to herself as she approached the corner table where one handsome dark haired man, dressed in a black Armani, with a black turndown shirt had three lavishly beautiful women eating out of his hands. “Hey, thank you, Hon.” he greeted with a smile that could sell a million movie tickets as he grabbed his Margarita and placed a single dollar bill on her tray. She dished out the three other drinks, then with a smile she said, “If there is anything else I can get for you, just let me know.”


“I think that will hold us for a while.” he replied while the three other ladies beamed stares of hate towards her, pleading for her to leave before she herself becomes the main attraction of...


Johnny Dangerous!


“Cheap skate.“ She muttered as she gave them another smile, then turned and slinked away, making sure every single one of her steps were accented with a noticeable toss of her hip.


“Now, where was I?” Johnny said, followed by a casual sip of his drink.


“You were telling us about your mission to Barbados!” Vanessa, one of the three ladies answered.


“ Ah, yes... and so there I was,” Johnny began, keeping the flock of gold digging women’s interest at bay. “alone, and surrounded by seven of Willard Scott’s most vicious goons!”


“Whatever did you do, Johnny?” replied Nikki, in the most overly exaggerated worried tone while innocently placing her hand against her breast as if her heart where pounding three million beats per second. Never underestimate Nikki, though. A horrible actress she may be, but she knew exactly how to draw the attention of a man’s eyeballs just where she wanted them.


“That’s what I said!” Johnny energetically replied.


“You said what?”


“I said... Johnny,” placing one hand on his hip while using his free hand to gesture, “whatEVER are you going to do?!”


Knowing that he had their interest by the throat, Johnny kept them in a moment of suspense while taking another casual sip of his drink. “So..” he said, smacking his lips.


“Johnny?” Carrie, the third of the luscious trio spoke, although in a somewhat pouty tone. “How come we all have clear straws, while you get that pretty red one?”


The other two ladies took note of this as well. Feelings of being left out, fat, ugly, and generally every other little female thought imaginable that come with a woman’s brain suddenly surged through their minds. Hoping to find some sort of explanation, and or condolences from the Barracuda, they crossed their arms, and turned back towards the master storyteller while impatiently tapping their feet, but alas...


... the Barracuda...



... is gone.


“What the? Where’d he go?” said Carrie, frantically looking in every single direction for the Secret Agent, and hoping it was just a magic trick. After all, she loved magic. Just like the time that really nice man made her panties disappear.


“Great job, Carrie!” snapped Vanessa, like a vicious dog, then in a mockingly tone said, “Why don’t we get red straws?”


“I almost had him too.” Nikki boasted. “He would have been a good one to sink my teeth into.”


“Oh, please, Nikki.” replied Carrie, rolling her eyes and shaking her head in pity for her friends ignorance. “It was so obvious that I was the one he wanted. You couldn’t PRY his eye’s off my chest!”


“Well thanks to you, he pried himself off all of us...”



“... bitch.”






Johnny cursed himself as he tore down the hallway leading into the hotel‘s parking garage. “How could I have not noticed the red straw sooner! I‘ve got to get to the Plaza!”




Deep within the building known only as the plaza, the offices of Secret Service Field Team 7 resided. It was from here that missions were assigned to their various agents, and normally they were assigned by non other than Sydney Kassle.


Sydney Kassle was the Director of Operations for the Secret Service Field Team 7. All assignments went through her, and all agents had to report to her. Something most of them dreaded. It wasn’t because they couldn’t stand to look at her, on the contrary. She was nearly forty, but the years had been kind on her, almost too kind some would say. Her body was that of a Goddess, but her heart was as black as asphalt, and as cold as ice. Behind her back they called her the fortress, because they said... nobody, not nobody could penetrate that!


“Are you sure about this, Harold?” she asked the man seated at the small sofa in her office.


“Yes, Ms. Kassle, my information is always accurate.” Harold responded.


Harold Hannah was a round man. The kind not allowed out in the field due to his infrequent stops at Krispy Kreme, Dunkin Donuts, and whatever else high fattening specialty shops there were. A trip to Subway along the way would have done him good. However, Harold was damn good at assessing information and finding the answers to riddles no one else could ever solve... At least that’s what were told. It is because of this man, that we are here today.


“Why don’t you give me a synopsis of what we have so far.” he asked.


“Very well.” Sydney responded. She grabbed a red folder that lied on her desk, and slid it down on the coffee table in front of Harold. “This is mission 4972031.447, assigned to Agent 378, Johnny Dangerous. The Barracuda if you prefer call signs, just don’t ask me why we call him that.”


Harold flipped through the pages for a moment then closed the folder. On the outside of it, a picture of Johnny Dangerous’ smiling mug was paper-clipped. “A rather happy looking Agent.” he responded. “Now, do continue with the synopsis.”


“All the information is contained right there, Mr. Hannah, but if you just want to hear my voice than I’ll tell you.”


“Please, do.” he nodded.


“In August of 2002, we deployed a Secret Agent into the global entertainment giant known as the Smartmarks Wrestling Federation. His task was to blend in with the wrestlers there, by becoming a wrestler, while constantly looking for clues as to who or what we were after. Upon arriving there he was required to work his way through their training organization, the Smartmarks Junior Leagues.”


“I assume he did fairly well there?” asked Harold.


“For the most part.” she continued. “he ran into a little trouble with one of the other wrestlers by the name of Jack. When we felt his concentration was being dominated by some personal vendetta against this man, we casually went in and apprehended him. He’s now staying at the St. Anthony’s Mental Institution, sadly not one sole ever questioned his disappearance.”


“I think I seem to remember something about that.” said Harold. “Anyway, go ahead, as you were saying.”


“AS I was saying...” Sydney said. “We wanted him to obtain the leagues World Heavyweight Championship as we felt it would be a key to having him moved into the SWF which was were his target was suppose to be. Since then we have had next to nothing. The better trained wrestlers managed to usually get the better of our Agent in the SWF, basically for the lack of better words... he’s sucked... hard. That and we are no closer to getting to the bottom of this than we ever were. That was until you, Mr. Hannah, brought forth this information. It’s about time we have had a solid lead.”


“I just hope were not too late.” Harold added. “Say, how long does it usually take this Mr. Dangerous to get here?”


“Well,” she began, but before another word could have escaped her lips the sound of a helicopters engine roared from outside, followed by a rather large and startling crash as the man in question tore through the large glass window and rolled into her office!




“Hope I’m not late!” said Johnny. Smiling while standing to his feet as he brushed the glass off the sleeve of his suit jacket.


“Not at all.” responded Sydney standing up from behind her desk. “Johnny, I’d like you to meet someone. This is Harold Hannah.”


Looking to his left, Johnny acknowledged the man seated on the sofa who was staring at him in pure amazement.


“Don’t be alarmed, Mr. Hannah.” said Sydney. “Believe it or not, ... this his normal entrance. Generally, we don‘t ask.”


“So,” said Johnny, “what do I owe the pleasure of being called her for today? Finally tired of watching me on television and decided you wanted to be with a real star, Sydney?”


“No, Johnny, and it’s Ms. Kassle.” Sydney rolled her eyes, wondering if this spy would ever give up on trying to seduce her. Hell, everyone else had. “Please, have a seat.”


Shrugging his shoulders, Johnny took a seat on the sofa as Harold Hannah got up, preparing to deliver his information. He reached inside his duffel bag, and pulled a small vile out. It was filled with a murky red substance.


“Have you ever seen this before, Mr. Dangerous?” Harold asked, holding the vile in plain view.


“Can’t say I have,” Johnny responded, “what is it.”


“This is Ziomeria HVT, a rather new narcotic from the island of Andros.” he said, lowering the vile and placing it on the coffee table. “Supposedly it’s the miracle cure for severe depression, we’ll leave it to the FDA test that theory out. In the mean time, we are increasingly finding it all over the streets. It’s known to give you a nice little twelve hour high. People feel like their flying, but the only thing they are doing is falling, Falling like anvils off the top of buildings. It was never meant to be taken in such huge dosages like they’re taking. At first it was a few rare cases in a selected few costal cities, but now it‘s beginning to spread everywhere. We hear it‘s being called a Wild Ride.”


“That’s nice and all.” said Johnny, “Not only have I never seen it, but I have never heard of it either. Besides, what does this have to do with my mission?”


“Have you discovered anything during this mission, Mr. Dangerous?!” Sydney snapped. “This is the reason that you are on THIS mission.”


“Well than, by all means, do tell,” said Johnny, “I have yet to actually receive any real information on exactly what the hell I’m even doing here. It would be nice to know what I’m actually up against.”


“Allow me, Mr. Hannah.” said Sydney, gesturing with her hand.


“As we originally suspected,” Sydney began, scowling towards Johnny. “Someone from inside the Smartmarks Wrestling Federation has been supplying people from all parts of the nation with Ziomeria HVT, and taking in a rather large sum of money for their efforts.”


“How do you know it’s coming from the SWF, Sydney?” asked Johnny. “I’ve been there for nearly a year, and I haven’t really seen anything out of the ordinary... For a wrestling organization that is.”


“Fortunately, our eyes see past all the females, Johnny. While you have been out their on national television, challenging people like Tom Flesher and what not, and loosing I might add while mingling with all those women. We have been talking to people and finding information. Well, I can‘t take the credit here. Mr. Hannah has been sorting through all of this information and brought it to us. He works for Team 6, I might add. I really don‘t like other teams getting to the bottom of our own missions before we even do.”


A moment of silence ensued, before Sydney finally added:


“We even have our prime suspect... lights!”


From the center of the room, a cylinder slid up from the floor, projecting the image of a human figure from it’s top.


“Do you know this man, Johnny?” Sydney asked, knowing all to well that Johnny knew exactly who this man was.


Frozen. Almost. All Johnny could do was stare at the figure beaming from the projector.


“I think I need a cigarette.” Johnny finally spoke, the shakiness easily detected in his voice.


“Since when did you smoke, Johnny?”


“It doesn’t matter, I don’t, just give me a cigarette.”


Sydney walked over towards her desk, grabbed a pack of Marlboro cigarettes, and slid it over towards the Barracuda. Johnny opened the pack, extracted a cigarette, and lit it up. Smoke swirled around his face, but through the cloud he could see Sydney studying him, waiting for an answer.


“That’s Dominic LeCroix” Johnny quietly spoke, so soft in fact Sydney almost wondered if she imagined it.


“Who?” she asked again.


Johnny took another puff pf his cigarette, exhaled, and slowly looked up towards Sydney.






“The Wildchild.”




“Yes, Johnny Dangerous, yes it is.” Sydney confirms. “The son of a family of acrobats from the Bahamas. Once his parents retired from the circus they went back to his fathers estate in Morgan’s Bluff, and took to a new kind of business. Creating, and distrubiting these dangerous narcotics. Dominic LeCroix, or the Wildchild as you call him has been allowed by his family to stay in the wrestling business, but only if he dispenses this drug through out the United States. His family stands to make billions with the added customers he can reach in the U.S., and Dominic LeCroix is the sole heir to this empire."


“I don’t believe this.” said Johnny, standing from his chair he threw his pointing finger towards Sydney. “I know the Wildchild, he’s just a kid from the Bahamas with a dream. You have got to be insane if you think HE is the one we are after. If anything, I would take a look at the Suicide King.”


“We have already looked at him, and found nothing.” Harold spoke up. “Everything we have so far, though circumstantial, leads us right back to Dominic LeCroix.”


Pacing back and forth alongside the length of the floor, Johnny let his thoughts gather before turning back towards Sydney. “The Wildchild, hun? You know, Together we are coming close to becoming the Tag Team Champions of the SWF. You couldn’t even begin to fathom what we have gone through to get this far.”


“Honestly, I couldn’t even begin to care.” she replied. Her voice as cold and condescending as it ever could be. “Have you forgotten that you are on an assignment? The only reason you are in the Smartmark’s Wrestling Federation is to take this man down! I don’t care about any of these Tag Team Championships! The only title we required you to obtain was the World Heavyweight Championship of the Junior Leagues. You did that, and were awarded a position within the parent company, the SWF.”


“I know my duty, Sydney!” Johnny replied, walking closer towards her. The usual charm the flows from the Barracuda has long faded into obscurity, replaced by the frustration that is overly detected. “I know what I am suppose to do. Remember who is the field operative here, and who is the pencil pusher. You don’t know what it is like to go out on an assignment and be forced to become part of something like this. If you did, you would know how hard it is to resist the sensation of being out there in front of all those people! It is electrifying to say the least!”


“And now...”


“... And now you want me to just turn my back on the only man I have ever been able to fully trust, and those people who have always believed in me!”


“And who the hell are YOU?” Snarled Johnny, beaming towards Harold spitefully. “Who the hell are you to stick your nose in my mission? Who gave you THAT authority?”


“Calm down, Johnny.” Sydney ordered.


“Calm down? Sydney, how do we know his information is accurate? What do we even know about this man?” With hate burning in his eyes, Johnny scowled towards Harold.


“Young man,” Harold said, “my credentials speak for themselves. I don’t need to explain how or why I got my information to you. All you need to know IS the information. Now you have it. It’s your job to take care of the problem using the information I have provided.”


For a moment nothing more was said. Just six eyeballs staring back and forth at one another until Sydney finally broke the silence.


“Johnny, I know this must be a shock to you. However, Mr. Hannah has a 97.6 percent rate of accuracy on his information thus far with previous missions. You can trust me when I tell you, this information is accurate.”


“Yeah, well.” replied Johnny, crossing his arms. “The fans will never understand this.”


“We’ll, Mr. Dangerous.” said Sydney. “The audience really doesn’t factor into this. It doesn’t matter if you make them laugh or cry, I want this Wildchild taken down. If you have to make everyone there hate you in the process than so be it. Maybe when this is done you can take some time off, and stay in the SWF for a little while. You do have some vacation time coming up, that’s enough to make up for this..”


“No.” Johnny backed away from Sydney as he began to make his way to the door, then turned and looked towards her. “The SWF is not enough. Nothing is enough to make up for what I must do. Furthermore, nobody lays a hand on the Wildchild except me. I’ll handle this myself.” Johnny turned his attention towards Harold, sneering. “If your wrong, Fat Man, your a dead man... and I don’t mean a walking one either.”


Without even looking back once, Johnny opened the office door and slammed it shut as he began his journey down the long dark hallway. The mission had become far deeper than anything he could have ever imagined. Nothing could have prepared him for this, nothing. The sword would not be unsheathed until Storm, but the wound was already deep, and he could feel the blood oozing down his side.



To Be Continued...

Edited by Secret Agent

Share this post

Link to post
Share on other sites

As I said when I previewed this for you, I like the way it's written. It's not shocking, per se, but that's because of the way you wrote it. It's a very interesting storyline and I'm glad to see it progressing.

Share this post

Link to post
Share on other sites









Ho... ly... shit. I didn't really see this coming at all, but it makes sense.


And now, I can't wait to see how this turns out. This has awesome potential.


Good job with the long promo, Dangerous. It's nice to have ya back in the fed, and with this storyline just opened up, things are about to pick up for Mr. Dangerous and Wildchild.

Share this post

Link to post
Share on other sites

Man, honestly Johnny, you write a great promo. I don't know why this isn't getting comments because it's quite an engaging storyline concept. It's so hard to think of WildChild as anything but the young kid that flies through the air to please the crowd.


I do await learning more about this conflict.

Share this post

Link to post
Share on other sites

It's definitely great to see a character-focused promo coming form you, and it explains pretty much all the holes in your storyline (why you disappeared, why you're coming back, etc etc). The hard part will be figuring out what to do once the Johnny/Wildchild thing reaches the end of its course.

Share this post

Link to post
Share on other sites
Guest Suicide King

::sounds of a quick succession of flushes heard from down the hall::


The SWF does not, nor ever has, condoned the use or distribution of any illegal substance!


::cancels his room at Caesar's, as they're just letting ANYONE in nowadays::

Share this post

Link to post
Share on other sites

Hey, thanks for the comments, guys! Well, except for Ejiro. I'm not sure how I'm supose to take that one. I'd also like to point out that this "thing" between Johnny and Wildchild isn't known to the general public at this time either. I.E. please don't mention it in your matches. Not just yet anyway. I'd appreaciate it. :)


Also, here's hoping I don't bomb this like the last real big storyline I created. Sorry about that, Edwin. :(

Share this post

Link to post
Share on other sites
Guest Goodear

Nah its fine Johnny, I was just sort of like... well it is sort of hard to build sympathy for Wildchild when he's SELLING CRACK. But upon further reflection it is all good in the hood.

Share this post

Link to post
Share on other sites

Create an account or sign in to comment

You need to be a member in order to leave a comment

Create an account

Sign up for a new account in our community. It's easy!

Register a new account

Sign in

Already have an account? Sign in here.

Sign In Now
Sign in to follow this