Hell's Haunted Kitchen (Call to Arms RP)

Cement walls, long hallways, and metal gated doors at intersecting junctures. Eastern State Penitentiary is one of the first of its kind, with tall cathedral style halls and ceilings; repenting for your sins was the thought behind every block placed. This was the house of horrors for many of America’s notorious convicts. Now it is hosting the XHF Call to Arms 2021 event. More than twelve teams consisting of five members were announced.

As the bus pulled up to the North West block 4, guards created a line on each side of the door. Armed with ARs and swat vests, the vibe check was - don’t fuck with these guys, or you won’t see daylight tomorrow. The bus door parted as the shutter windows folded to the inside, and a guard came off the bus blowing a whistle.

Suddenly, the feet of the reigning Northern Pro Wrestling North American Double Crown Champion, Lord Dominicus steps off the bus and trots up to the guard who just blew the whistle. Sporting handcuffs that are linked to a waist chain which are linked to ankle chains, it’s a surprise that Lord Dominicus is so light on his feet. Of course, his evil black mask with the white almost silver lining etched this NPW enigma’s personality like a cartoon character came to life.

Off the steps next was Alex Turner, better known as Timeless, and newly crowned Imperial Crown Tag Team Champions with his partner, and behind him, Primal. The duo had just recently slayed the mighty former champions, along with many other NPW tag teams on the May 25th, 2021 show. Rightfully the same night the team was put together. Some speculated that such events could be detrimental to this team coexisting; time would tell.

Timeless comes walking up behind Lord Dominicus, sporting a jumpsuit in Canada red, and blowing a giant bubble with some bubble gum. Primal on the other hand had no jumpsuit on, but the chains were there, somewhere under his furry coat. The hairiest man in Canada, hell maybe even the world, was gritting his teeth as his neck rolled to the side, cracking his neck and eying up the entourage of guards around them.

Behind them, we see the “Irish Ironman” John Cavanaugh make his way off the bus. Sporting sunglasses, he peers over the top of them to survey the area. A man of the same loins of Al Capone, that being John was no stranger to the organized crime world, nor shied from telling you about how it shaped him. The Irishman had recently shown the world his hand and what he was capable of, as he entered the XHF Rumble and lasted nearly the whole evening, winning the award for Ironman of the Rumble. Ask him, and it means nothing, because the win wasn’t found that night; John Cavanugh would get the opportunity to rectify that failure, with a chance to earn his way into Overheated.

Last but certainly not least, the Canadian Nightmare, Jesse Jamester. His boots hit the dirt, and a cloud of dust came up, as the black lizard scaled mask stared at each guard with his piercing blue eyes. What men considered a monster, Jesse Jamester showed in his menacing size and facial tics. While he had shown to be formidable in the XHF Rumble, Jesse had been on a downward trajectory in NPW. Recently losing his Imperial Crown Tag Titles in a battle royal when the Colossus was tossed over the top rope. Outside of the fading of his former Syndicate team, the Canadian Nightmare had imposed himself on another talent in recent months, Eron Hunter.

With an announcement of their scheduled bout July 1st, 2021, Jesse Jamester had been cleared of all other distractions. No partner to count on, no title to defend, and with the backing of his boss, Gus Arnold, he was now leading the NPW Call to Arms team into the biggest unknown they had ever faced, in the Eastern State Penitentiary. What reasoning did Gus have for sending Jesse Jamester in the lion’s den with these four men? From how Jesse understood it, Gus was counting on the big pay day that came from a win at Call to Arms. As a featured federation in the network, having a team representing the brand both drew eyes and attention to Canada’s hottest wrestling attraction. Would the bet pay off for Gus Arnold though? Could his monsters and champions coexist in a match that meant putting egos aside? Even Jamester wondered the answer to that one.

There ain't no place like home, is there.

“Four walls. A door. It’s all the same.”

Looking back at him, John Cavanaugh raises an eyebrow at Jesse’s comment as the bus doors close behind them and the men are escorted by the guards on both sides. Surrounding the group they take them to a side door. Jesse shrugged, playing off the talking to himself like it was just another thought, and Cavanaugh bought it or didn’t care, either way, the Northern Pro Call to Arms team were being directed to their home for the event. Coming through a metal door that was surrounded by tall concrete walls, the foreboding ominous castle structure lived up to its hype as one of the largest prisons in the world.

Alcatraz may have been the most famous prison, but it didn’t have Benjamin Franklin’s signature on the forms of the building plans. The history of Eastern State Penitentiary was rich, as were the funds it took to build it. The idea behind the building was reform, penance, and to test those inside who survived, what they were leaving behind for a life of crime. An experiment of human forgiveness by rich men in power. An ominous form of sanctuary and solitude was the way to life for the criminals who lived out their final days here.

Walking into the kitchen area, the guards dispersed into a circle, and one guard with no hat and grey peppered hair and a porno stache to match, walked around the NPW Team members and eyed them up. Their line now horizontal, as the five of them stood before the man, a band of misfits, about to be let go for the Call to Arms event.

Pointing to his patch, “Lt. Walter” the main officer signals for the chains and cuffs to be removed. Guards step up and begin to take off the cuffs from left to right on each team member.

Lt. Walter: Men, you know why you are here this evening. My name is Lieutenant Walter It is my job to inform you of what is expected of tonight, and what our role will be.

The final cuffs are removed from NPW’s team members, as Jesse Jamester scratches his chin and looks across at his teammates and shoots that gaze back at the officer.

Lt. Walter: Tonight, the XHF Call to Arms event will take place in this very building. At the start, you will be locked in your corridor, the Kitchen and Bakery. At some point in the evening, the doors will be unlocked. You are to survive if you can! You're not in here alone, this is the most haunted prison in the United States. So at the request of XHF’s officials, we are providing ghost hunting gear.

Guards step up and drop bags in front of each member of the NPW team, each identical to the next.

Lt. Walter: May I caution you gentlemen. What you experience tonight, will be unlike anything you have ever witnessed in your life. These walls have housed the most vile humans in the history of the United States. The spirits that reside here are likely to be some of the sickest tortured minds you will ever meet.

Primal, Timeless, John Cavanaugh, Jesse Jamester, and presumably Lord Dominicus, because we can’t see his face; all smirk at the last statement made by the Lieutenant.

Lt. Walter: I wish you luck, and may God have mercy on you.

Filing out of the room does the guards with the Lieutenant leading. The five men left look at one another, and for a brief pause they all seemed to agree without saying anything - and immediately picked up the bags and began looking inside them.

Equipment is put on the floor, an ensemble of Infrared Thermometers, EMF sensors, ghost box digital recorder, and a slew of other items for the group to use. Alex Turner picks up one of the EMF sensors and points it at Jesse Jamester, who is standing to his right.

Pressing the button, Timeless nods his head at the no signal.

Alex “Timeless” Turner: Broken. Go figure.

Lord Dominicus and Primal snicker, as Jesse’s eyes survey the room and see the joke is on him. Paying no mind, Jesse picks up his bag, shoving the equipment back in, and heads off towards the other room, the bakery.

Alex “Timeless” Turner: Was a joke big guy, come’on! But really… anyone else hear him talking to himself?

The group collectively nods, except that of John Cavanaugh, who takes his bag and does as Jesse did, leaving the group to go find some sanctuary of his own. Timeless, Primal, and Lord Dominicus, three of Northern Pro Wrestling’s champions, sat in the kitchen testing the equipment. As time went by, the men split up and Lord Domincius could be heard in the kitchen making a ruckus.

---

This is more like it. Just you and me…

“It’s just me. You are me,” says Jesse as he sits on a cooler in the pantry area of the bakery. His bag of ghost hunting equipment to his left, the jumpsuit he was wearing when he entered the prison now laying on the floor.

Now sporting his normal wrestling gear, the white boots with double J’s on the outside of each boot, the black and white tights with barbwire and thorn vines wrapping up the legs and forming the crest on his crotch with the pistols coming from the barbed wire to criss cross and form two jaded J’s on his crotch. The CN on his ass representative of his nickname the ‘Canadian Nightmare’ and on this day, the shirt he dawned was a plain Northern Pro Wrestling shirt with the Canadian maple leaf logo on the upper back.

The pantry had a ceiling window, much like many of the rooms in this Penitentiary, it was the single source of light for solitude to the prisoners. It served as a reminder to look up, the hope that provided for those doing their time.

“I find it eerie to be back in a place like this. The place I vowed to never be again, and yet here I am, voluntarily inside one of the most hellacious places created for the criminal minds in the history of America. What irony aye,” jutted Jesse, as he fiddled with the EMP sensor.

That’s where we met each other. In that dark hole called solitary in Dominguez State Jail, San Antonio Texas. Ah, what fresh hell that was.

“Yeah, that was when I realized I needed to embrace my inner ego. That was a shitty time, not even going to lie. That was a memory of my life I pushed into the crevice of my mind and buried deep. Yet, you found your way back when I needed you… Like the perfect little leach that you are,” matter of factly states Jesse, as he adjusts his mask ever so slightly at the chin strap.

Me, a leach? Don’t flatter yourself Jess. We are the same person, your words, not mine. I’m just the part of you that you repressed. The guy your daughter hasn’t seen for 15 years. I’m the vile in you, that when you let me operate, I consume you. I make you better. You know it’s true.

“I know I’m capable of a lot more than I’ve shown the XHF. More than I have shown NPW. Being named the leader of NPW’s team wasn’t by choice, but it's a role I’m familiar with. Everywhere I go, I gravitate to the top, and I’m picked as thee guy to show up and do what I do - because I can and I have proven I will. Respect, that comes with time. People here don’t respect me. They don’t see the value I bring… but they will. They won’t be able to deny it when I finally do make that claim for the X*Crown that I rightfully am owed.”

Owed? When did you win anything to be owed a shot? You fucked up and let your guard down in the Rumble. Adrien blasted you and Misha at the ropes, causing the two of you to go tumbling out.

“Yet, Misha got a shot and I didn’t… same old song and dance. I watched Misha hit the floor first, and then I hit, but somehow that Fireside flake gets a shot before me. It is what it is, politics, and I’m not going to hang on to what ifs, because I have the opportunity now to make the statement I said during the days leading up to the Rumble. I said Northern Pro Wrestling housed the best talent. We proved that in the Rumble, with Primal, John Cavanaugh, and myself taking the NPW banner and riding that wave of momentum to the end. We were dominant individually, so imagine what we can do together… It’s going to be a whole different game here in Call to Arms. This isn’t friend or foe, we are a team gunning to prove that we are the absolute best in this business, both for Canada, and our company. These other teams, they are egos, driven by individual ambitions at that spot at the top. I don’t need to diminish my team members, they all bring something to the table that I know I can work with to win.”

What about Anthony Caffrey? He’s got a team called the Guardians with Adrien Cochrane onboard. You don’t harbor that same hate you had a month ago for him?

“Harbor? Yeah, there will be a moment when I see Anthony and he sees me… we’ll cross that bridge when we get there. He’s been put through tables, Jesterplexed, and proven time and time again he can’t handle me by himself - but for good measure, I’ll shove my boot through his face one more time before this event is over. Adrien however, is still owed a receipt for that dropkick in the Rumble. The boy hood wonder fucked up by making an enemy out of me. If it takes me using Primal as a yeti-slingshot, or military pressing Timeless into the rest of the Guardians, or maybe I take the Irisih Ironman and we play ping pong with his head and our fists - Adrien Cochrane chances of leaving the Eastern State Penitentiary whole, will drastically decline after he runs into me. Mark my words on that.”

All this talk of hurting people has me feeling some type of way. Let’s go over the strategy again.

“Stay in the shadows, attack subtly, and stay out of sight. There are more men here than there were in the Rumble. The gang mentality will play out, some of them eager to beat on members of other teams and isolate them. I won’t get trapped somewhere I can’t get out of. Yeah, I know from my time in prison, you keep your back to the wall, and you take the corners sharp. Never know when someone was looking to make a name for themselves by shivving you. What these men lack in their approach will shine in mine. Becoming a shadow in the night is something I’ve lived, watching men take glory that wasn’t there’s to take. It’s due time to get mine! One by one, they will fall, and as the night lingers on, and the teams dwindle, we’ll see the fighters who know how to handle themselves, and those who are hiding behind their comrades. Call to Arms may be the greatest mistake the XHF allowed to happen, when they let me inside here, and left my imagination to run wild.”

As Jesse goes to say something else, the EMP sensor goes off in his hand. Looking up, he can see his breath in the pantry room. A cold chill takes over the room as though winter had come suddenly, and the chills turned to goosebumps on the arms of Jesse Jamester. Standing up from his seat, the black lizard mask with the red X carved into the forehead peeled the room for a sign of the disturbance he felt. His blue sapphire eyes pierced the room as even the light began to dim. Nightfall was here. The ghosts they were warned of were coming out of hiding.

Afraid?

“No, you?”

Fuck you aren’t.

“I’ve faced monsters and men with Napoleon complexes, I’m not afraid of no ghost.”

Booo!

“Ha-ha!”

Really now… are you laughing at me?

Turning to see where the voice came from, Jesse sees nothing behind him in the pantry. Stepping backwards, he feels the cold run through him as the sensor beeps to the point that the device literally sizzles and blows a circuit.

Stepping backwards he feels that cold intensify, his goosebumps running up his arms under his shirt, and the hair on his neck standing on end. He may not have said he was scared, but the undeniable tension of the state of this affair had the Canadian Nightmare on edge.

“Who said that?” asks Jesse, now with paranoia in his voice.

William McGinnis is the name.

Walking through Jesse, the figment of a ghost transpires before him and turns, showing its ghoulish white opaque figure. Time did not settle well on this ghost, for his body was wearing rags of an old prisoner outfit, and his face sported a clean cut look, but the gash below his chin around his neck said it all. The man had been a victim of some sort, and his memory still resided in the Eastern State Penitentiary.

Prisoner #00592.

“What do you want from me?” says Jesse, as his eyes begin to adjust to the darker room, as the ceiling light had now disappeared and the one single light had dulled to just a single dot on the ceiling.

Want? Why I want revenge… Suffering decades inside these walls, I now have a way to get out. The group you're with seems docile, but you, you’ve been in here talking to yourself. I can make use of a man with that psyche.

“Make use? I’m already fucked in the head my man, not sure it’s going to go off too well if my teammates can’t trust me, you’ll just be wasting your time,” musters Jesse, who feels a sudden sense to get out of the room as fast as he can.

Stepping backwards ever so slightly, Jesse begins to edge his way towards the door when it suddenly slams shut behind him.

YOU LEAVE WHEN I’M FINISHED WITH YOU!

“Fuck you I do!” yells Jesse at the ghost, as he turns and grabs the handle but it won’t open.

Tonight I take over and take out these frustrations. Like the other spirits here will do, possession is nine-tenths of the law, and you are more than the specimen I was hoping for. Oh yes, you will be a great instrument for the payback I have been dreaming up!

“Look, if you’re going to crawl in me and do some creepy shit, just be warned - the other guy in here doesn’t tolerate shit, he’s no saint by any standard--”

Before Jesse could finish the sentence though, the ghost of William McGinnis closed in on him and the bodies of both ghost and man became one. Jesse’s body quivered with an involuntary shaking as the process took place, but within seconds it stopped.

Head tilted down, the mask peered up, and there in the eyes, the difference could be seen. One blue sapphire eye, and the other an emerald green. The possession was complete, or at least appeared to be.

“Huh? You think you’re getting a free ride here, I think not! You’ll coexist or I’ll chuck your ghost ass out like last week's trash!” says Jesse as he talks to himself again.

“Fine. We’ll play by your rules, for now. Forewarning, you’re not going to like what I do to the people they put in here with you,” contorting his mask and face to the left as that side of him appeared to be talking now, the two people were taking their turns deciding who was leading and who was talking. Straight out of a mental hospital in the way this looked, but thankfully Jesse was alone and nobody was seeing it happen.

“Look, I don’t give a damn about the other eleven teams. The KGB, the JOB Squad, the ReVenants, team Fireside, the Amazons, all of those chumps can be dealt with as you feel it necessary. But I’m driving this body, I know it better than you. You can take out all that frustration you’re carrying on whoever we run across, but I’m the one talking from here on out. Jesse’s my bitch, not yours!” says Jesse as his face turned to the right with the blue eye dominant. Shifting his body, a contorting of the neck as it cracks and then suddenly, the body of the Canadian Nightmare stands up and the head bows.

Stepping backwards into the middle of the room, the light above now dimmed so low only the forehead of Jesse Jamester is seen where the hair and mask meet. His face slowly rises, and the sapphire eyes return, but the Cheshire grin peaking through the deathly looking lizard mask tells all. Whatever spirit this was that took over was playing a different game than that of what Jesse Jamester was brought to this penitentiary to do. While some were out for a fight, this spirit was out for revenge.

“Let the fun begin.”

With that, the door opens, and Jesse Jamester steps out of the locked pantry room, as Lord Dominicus is heard calling the team to the kitchen. Cracking his knuckles, the lizard mask looks up to the ceiling window, to see the moon above. Shining down through it on his body, the glistening moonlight aura over his body showed the two colliding personalities inside him, one the ghost, the other his inner ego.

“Hell’s Kitchen is open! Time to serve up some ass beatings!”