Our story starts off in the city of Memphis, Tennessee. The city is a very peaceful one. The streets are crowded and every car that is lined on the interstate has their radio tuned into Hot 97.9. The most popular radio station of the time. The year was 1971. It was the year of the new era of music. Rock and Roll music was slowly dying out and the new wave of love songs where coming out. Surely the 1970s were known as the decade of Soul music, but it was also a very special time. During that year at Methodist Hospital East, a baby boy was born to William and Caren Frost. His name was DeMarko. DeMarko Frost was the fourth of six children and he had always a fond of cold things..

One of the past experiences of his early childhood was at his tenth birthday party. The party was during the nighttime and all of the little kids were having fun playing Pin the Tail on the Donkey when all of the sudden, smoke started to flare in the Frost's home. It seems that Father Frost had forgot to turn off the pilot gas and the gas had been seeping in the hallway. Since, the kids were little, they actually didn't understand what the smoke came from but twenty minutes later it was a fire. The kids and the parents all made it out fine, but they all had a cold breeze as they stood outside and DeMarko came out and he took off his shirt and his pants and ran around his friends and was sweating and looking to be hot. After that, he was mocked by his friends and was known as the "Iceman".

Later on in his life, while attending High School, he had been practicing backyard wrestling with some of his friends when he was noticed by Online Championship Wrestling. At the time the OCW was a federation that was starting to reach the main point in the world. IT was ran by local boss shark Dean. Dean was one of those guys that.. well all he took was talent. He didn't give a damn about gimmick, or if you knew the difference between a wristlock or wristwatch. He wanted good talent and he wanted talent that could not only wrestle but also put on a good show. So, when DeMarko received the call, "The Iceman" quickly left his friends and went to the OCW.

Frost would find out that OCW life wouldn't be the same as he thought it was. Actually he waited a year until he recieved a match. During that year, DeMarko had his name changed from the Iceman into "The Frost" and he had adopted the "Frostbite" as his finisher. The Frostbite was nothing more but an inverted Sambo Suplex, which was a modified version of the Rock's RockBottom. The Frost first match was terrible. He had a terrible spill in a match with Johnny Cash that tore a verbebre and took him out of wrestling for 6 months. But during those 6 months, he focus on lifting and exericing while rehibitating his injures. He came back and had his first match back on national television in which he defeated the character who used "The Iceman" gimmick. After defeating him, The Frost kept winning and winning until.....

:~: We now take the scene into today... We abruptly start, from a small white dot, stirring in the middle of the screen. But before you know it, there's a full blown image of a shaded Frost, out in the middle of nowhere. A deep forest, with large pine trees surrounding all things outside. On the ground, pine needles, fallen, and dead, as a cold winter chill blows throughout the hollowed grounds. Frost, standing with his back to his, his long hair spiked up into the wind. The sun is shining through, peaking in in certain areas, but as far as the eye can see, is nothing but an abyss of trees. His large back, covered by a orange leather jacket shrugs gently. The jacket, rides just above a pair of sand blasted, boot cut, dark jeans. The jeans themselves, ride upon a pair of black boots, untied, running wildly along the ground.

BOOM! An intense sound echoes through the forest, as he turns to face the camera with a wide grin. Hanging loosely on a white V-necked T-shirt, are a pair of orange tinted shades. Hanging from his lip, of course a cigaratte, smoking as always. In his hand, a small pistol. Completely black, it shines from a polished coating. Looking at it, he aims it toward the camera. The camera then shakes violently and turns away, before the howling laughter of Frost, assures us, and the camera-man, that everything is okay. Back on track, Frost takes a draw of his cigaratte and carelessly flips it onto the ground. Blowing out the smoke, while leaning his head back, Frost cracks his neck. Looking dead into the eyes of the monster, we slowly start to zoom in. There, inches away from his face, he speaks to us, in only the manner that HE could bear.

The Frost: What, you think that I was going to shoot you? Nah, come on now. I'm The Frost! I'll never do a thing like that.

:~: Frost just smiles. Nothing more uneasy than Frost's smile, because you never really know what the sick and twisted man is thinking. Eitherway, he turns his attention back to the gun. Firing it, six or seven times, in every direction possible it hits absolutely nothing. Nothing more than loud booming gun shots, echoeing several times. A pile of shells as accumulated at his right foot, but goes unnoticed. The ear numbing shots are humorous to Frost as he laughs with each one. After unloading the clip, he simply slides it under his belt line in his pants.

The Frost: You never know when you'll need a gun. I mean, you may be mugged, robbed, or raped at any given time. With all the sickos running around this world today. It's always good to have a little protection. Wouldn't you say so? Also, you know when we have a good show or event that you can shoot down enemies than you would need a gun.

:~: Frost looks questionally towards the camera-man. Sensing that there is no answer coming, he spots a tree, to rest on. Walking towards it, the ground crunches under his immense frame, and another gust of wind blows. With every breath Frost takes, steam boils out of his mouth, letting us know, it's a little bit more, than just cold. Frost slumps down under a nearby tree, before averting his attention back to the camera.

The Frost: Yeah, without a doubt, protection is always good. Which would explain my actions of late. With a gang of thugs that are in the H.O.P. now talking about taking over the world, there needs to be someone who can take the feeling out of them if they wanted to play it big style. Which leads me to Sunday Night. For those who thought that I was playful and kidding when I appeared on television last Wednesday night and was talking about the championships I was for real and when Deano gave me the chance to be the first ever H.O.P. Oceanic Champion, I thought about it and I am here to take him up on his offer. But the other two contestants in this battle are people that the Frost will have to take down. So, I think to myself, is it really going to be hard? Nah, I don't think so. Surely, I have been in fights before against one and more people and I have came out on top. Sunday night will be no different however as I step out and try my hardest to become the champion. So, as I take out my knife and slice down the competition, I have to take a stab at Alec Begrod.

:~: Frost looks down momentarily, running through his thoughts. In a flash, he jerks his head back up, and continues to talk ambitiously.

The Frost: "The Machine" Alec Begrod, is a man whom I have faced in the ring before, but I have great doubts that he will be beaten again might I add. So, how can I describe "the Machine" ? He's a man, who tried everyway possible to beat me, but just couldn't pull it off in the end. I guess this is your chance for retribution eh Alec? Sure, the little win in ICWF was pretty nice wasn't it? But that was just once. I defeated you twice. You were just lucky that one night. I guess this is the big chance, to prove to the world that you aren't just a lacky in the Frost's shadow. So, Alec who are you going to prove your alligence too? Your little L2K buddy? Alec, you disgust me you little prick. You fought with your back to the wall for so long, but then you crumble to the promise of fame and glory. But, we were cool for a while, I remember that. But where were you when I was down? Thought you was family bro? Thought you had my back? Well apparently not because just as soon as FTF stabbed me in the back, you're cleaning up the blood for them. But Sunday night, I want you to be in perfect health, but not before I cremate you with the Frostbite.

Carl Fate? He is the man who's done every bit that a rookie has to offer - except beat the best, and that'd be me for the record. I don't know why I'm even bothering with you, or expecting anything out of you, but I do. I was there once before, you've got something special about you kid. Something that most people dont, and that's heart. You have no brains, that's a given, but you do have heart to an extent. What a courageous soul you are, signing yourself into yet another bashing. What a brainchild you must be to be aligned in a match on the very first H.O.P. PPV with the Frost for the vacant Oceanic Championship. To put yourself right in the mix of a very powerful man who's actually is not at the peak of his game yet. That's the difference between you and I Carl. You see Carl, while you are willing to be pushed to the back, and overlooked, I demand the spotlight. I demand the attention of the people and I get it. You think people are going to give a shit about you if you lose Fate? You're going to be washed up, and carried out after this fight Sunday. Whether it's by me or Alec, the job will be done. You're the miserable little cunt of the match and this fed, but here's your big chance. Retribution. To beat the beast, to put an end to the machine. TO put an end to the FROzen One. It won't happen, but it's nice thinking about it anyway, huh?

:~: Frost laughs gently, and smirks. He gets up and he pulls two posters out of his back pocket. He then pulls them and took them to the nearest tree. IT unrolls to be a poster of his opponents. He then turns and aims the Tech at it. He takes one deep breath, pulls the safety, and then begins to fire away. Tat! Tat! Tat! Shot after rapid shot fires out, echoeing through the forest loudly. Shells flying everywhere. A flame shooting out from the side of the gun shows the strength of the gun. Frost holds it steady, blowing pieces of the posterboards, and it's diaper everywhere. Thirty seconds of shooting, and all that stands of the posterboards is their kneecaps. Frost turns to the camera and smiles.