Your name is Peter James Griffith. You were born July 26, 1986 at the Parma Community General Hospital to James and Evelyn Griffith. Your mother tells you you were a fussy baby, prone to illness and long fits of crying. She assures you, though, that that is not why your father committed suicide on June 19, 1988.

Yes, Peter, that was Fathers' Day.

You never really knew your father, of course, but his ghost has been just over your shoulder your whole life. Your mother struggled to support the two of you as a diner waitress for years, at the same time trying desperately to find a substitute for your dead dad. Assholes and addicts, users and abusers, she took quite an array of broken men home. None of them quite managed to fill the void for long.

In Kindergarten, you met your best friend to this very day, a boy named Kyle Turner. The two of you bonded after you broke the nose of another boy, whose name you have forgotten, for teasing you.

Throughout your education, his disfigurement was always a source of secret pride.

Years passed, and you and Kyle grew together. The poor kid couldn't look after himself, so you slayed his dragons for him. In middle school, the two of you got into what remained of the Ohio punk scene. While you dressed strangely and did unnatural things with your hair, he kept his antics on the DL to satisfy his uber-religious parents. In some ways, you kind of wished your mother didn't just write it off as a phase.

What has proven to be more than a phase is your wrestling career, which began in spring of 2002 working for the Ohio Wrestling League. You had been a wrestling fan for quite a while, focused largely on Meaningless Violence Wrestling and particularly Piter "The Show-Opener" Svoboda. It is no overstatement to say that seeing him win the second MVW King of the Mountain was one of the highlights of your teenage years. In OWL, you enjoyed moderate success and wore a mask to hide your identity from your mother.

You're wearing that same mask right now, Peter, but due to greater threats than your mother could ever bring to bear.

In the time since OWL shut down, you've continued to eke out a wrestling career but have also answered to a higher calling. You and Kyle have worked together to start a revolutionary organization known as the Freedom Army, of which you are the public, albeit masked, face. In addition to the various misfits, pirates, and teenage anarchists who have answered your clarion call, you work with a smaller inner circle of devoted followers. Matthew "Mattloaf" Loafer is your go-to strong man. Adam Kadmon is a card-carrying genius with a knack for computers and negotiable morals. Sierra Nevada is your accountant and the most attractive woman you personally know. Cassandra Drake is Kyle's girlfriend, and though she hasn't spoken since the Department of Homeland Security tortured him she's a prodigy of graphic design. Piter Svoboda's abandoned cat, Mr. Whiskers, has become an unofficial mascot for the six of you.

Of the inner circle, only Kyle has seen you without your mask. Well, Kyle and Mr. Whiskers. The mask has become your public face both in and out of the wrestling world. You wear it to matches, you wear it to rallies, and you wear it on the long RV rides in between. When you wear it, Peter, you are the Freedom Kid. You are General Freedom.

You are the revolution.

And so, Mr. Revolution, today is just like any other day as a freedom fighter and/or terrorist operating on United States soil. You will be faced with difficult decisions with outcomes that may extend far beyond what you intended. As the Freedom Kid, what you do, what you say, and even what you think have far-reaching consequences.

So what do you say, Kid? Are you ready to make some choices? If not, you could always cheat...

A) I was born ready.

B) Fuck this noise, I'm too indecisive.

X) CHEAT