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Date Posted: 12:59:05 10/27/01 Sat
Author: Christian Setade
Author Host/IP: okc-65-28-129-68.mmcable.com / 65.28.129.68
Subject: Tryout RP for GWA - SECOND POSTING

(A single individual sitting in front of a desk in a plush office. He is a little under six-feet tall, but well built, sculpted one might say. He is completely bald, and his American Indian heritage is almost unnnoticable, save for the dark hair and eyes. He is dressed comfortably, in loose jeans and a red t-shirt, on the left breast of which is the Marine Corps crest in yellow. Seated behind the desk is a woman in a sharp Armani business suit, who is busy looking at the contents of an open manila folder. The contents contain many photographs, several typed pages, and some printouts off the internet. She speaks first...)

Woman: I have some sources that told me you were someone I might want to talk to Mr. ... Setade is it?

Christian Setade: Christian Setade.

Woman: Ok, how about Christian for now?

Christian: Fine.

Woman: I was perusing your record. You have accomplished a lot for someone your age. You are what... 27 now?

Christian: Yes, ma'am.

Woman: I see... any impairments?

Christian: None. I try to keep in shape.

Woman: Apparently so. You are what right now, 210-215?

Christian: 225.

Woman: Oh, sorry. You carry your weight well.

Christian: Thanks.

Woman: It says here you are half Osage Indian, is that true?

Christian: Yes ma'am, on my father's side.

Woman: Any hobbies?

Christian: Yes ma'am. I run, do gymnastics and lift weights,and I teach self-defense to women.

Woman: Community concious, thats always good. I see you had a pretty good record in the ECWC. That takes work. So what motivates you? What is the source of your drive?

Christian: What do you mean?

Woman: Where does this desire to prove yourself come from?

Christian: I was always the little kid, you know? The one that went went hungry at lunch in the fifth grade because Jason Dima kept stealing my lunch box. I was the one that would miss the bus on the day of the worst rain storm in the year. The one always picked last in gym...
It didn't stop in grade school; high school was a whole other hell. It was my freshman year that i went into the "accelerated classes" for the smart kids. Great, not only was a skinny, short kid... now I was a brain as well. Great, like my tormentors didn't have enough crap to throw at me. Four years of this. Yeah, I'm headed for my high school reunion... right after I stab myself in the groin with a railroad spike. That would be less painful...

No one has seen me since then. No one I knew was there when I enlisted in the Marine Corps. No one I knew was there when I became a certified hand-o-hand combat instructor. No one was there when my "little" 5'10, 225 pound self was awarded a Medal of Valor and a Purple Heart for my actions in the Persian gulf. No one was there for my honorable discharge with a chest full of medals. No one was there when I was in the gym in Norman, Oklahoma and the Commisioner of the ECWC asked me to "bring my unique abilities and style" to the ring. Whatever, man. I just want to pay my bills, live a good life...

And show those bastards who the hell I REALLY am.

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