April is a month when memorable events take place all over the sports landscape. It is a time for the NHL and NBA playoffs to start, the MLB season to begin and the NFL draft to take place. Not only those notable events but of course college basketball’s March Madness also reaches it’s zenith in April, and we are treated to the WWE’s Wrestlemania as well as ACW’s Legends.

Now the start of Legion’s first season can be added to that list, as the Draft Weekend for Legion’s first season of the 21^st century took place across the weekend of April 24^th and 25^th. The DVD for the Draft Battle Royale, as well as the availability to download a digital copy of the show from the Legion blog, is set to be made available later this week. The Draft Weekend will also be airing after Late Night w/Eddy Love and The Later Show w/Scotty Bowman all this week on ESEN.

Quick results of the Draft Battle Royale can be found below. Stars were born, reputations made, relationships forged in fire and canvas… and legends brought to life. Only in Brooklyn… only in Legion… leaving one last chance as the season begins, to be a singular force.

Tune in live to the PTC CHATROOM on THURSDAY, April 29^th, at 7pm EST to experience Legion’s LIVE and UNABRIDGED DRAFT.

MINUTE-TO-MINUTE RUNDOWN

00:00

GVP is first to enter, Aaron Jones Jr. is second to enter. After a short bit of back and forth, the son of SilverHAWK shows his greenness within the ring and GVP eliminates him. Leaving Patton in the ring alone for…

00:03

Jesse Ramey is third to enter.

00:06

Latrell Samuel enters. Eliminates himself trying to go off the top rope, getting toppled off.

00:09

David Noble enters.

00:12

Mary-Lynn Mayweather enters. Is eliminated by David Noble.

00:15

Kristos Zatania enters. Ramey eliminates Noble.

00:18

Orazio Duke enters. Zatania eliminates Ramey. GVP eliminates Zatania.

00:21

Rune Winters enters, attacking Duke. K-Wolf’s music hits early, but wait it’s Sharc who comes out instead! Sharc eliminates Winter. Winters is piiiiissed.

00:24

Inoue Doi enters.

00:27

The Woman With A Black Heart enters. The Black Heart and Inoue eliminate each other.

IN-RING: GVP, Sharc, Duke.

00:30

Nibi Augustin enters.

00:33

Naveed enters.

00:36

The Flying Frenchie enters.

00:39

Mike Randalls enters. Eliminates Duke, eliminates Sharc, almost eliminates Naveed, gets double-teamed by Frenchie and GVP before that devolves. Gets into it with Augustin, who is out of his element with Randalls.

00:42

Impulse enters, big hometown favorite. Eliminates Nibi, as he looks to get a reprieve from Randalls and walks right into a duel with an entering Impluse. There’s a moment of… hey, I thought Nibi could win this whole thing, the kid had heart… but it passes.

00:45

Jonathan Wilson enters.

00:48

Chet Worth enters. Kicks and punches people, before being outclassed and eliminated by Naveed who’s shining for the first time tonight after just trying to survive for the first fifteen minutes.

00:51

Brian Spaes enters. Wilson is eliminated by GVP.

00:54

Alias enters.

00:57

Brooklyn Rivera enters. Fans LOVE her, she’s the hometown girl. Alias eliminates Spaes, as Spaes had almost over-zealously gone after the Original Pulp Hero the moment he came into the ring. Spaes is not pleased in the least.

01:00

Hornet is the last to enter to much aplomb. Randalls IMMEDIATELY goes after Hornet, and in vicious fashion drops the legend out of the ring on his head, eliminating him. Medics rush out to check on the medical condition of Hornet.

IN-RING: GVP, Alias, Rivera, Randalls, Frenchie, Naveed, Impulse

01:09

Rivera is eliminated by Impulse, who is then eliminated by Randalls. GVP, after being in the match for more then an hour, is eliminated by Alias. We now know the four captains.

Alias.

Mike Randalls.

The Flying Frenchie.

Naveed.

Three legends, and an unknown quantity.

01:15

Alias is eliminated by Randalls.

01:26

Frenchie does something especially sneaky to eliminate Randalls, but is dragged to hell as well, by Randalls. Frenchie is therefore eliminated by Randalls. It's too close to call on whom gets the second and who gets the third pick in the draft, but that isn't important. Naveed defies all expectations in WINNING the Legion Battle Royale and earning the number one pick in the Legion Draft.

TIME IN BATTLE ROYALE

01:10 – GVP

00:53 – Naveed

00:50 – The Flying Frenchie

00:47 – Mike Randalls

00:28 – Impulse

00:21 – Orazio Duke

00:18 - Sharc

00:14 – Jesse Ramey

00:13 – Nibi Augustin

00:12 – Brooklynn Rivera

00:07 – Brian Spaes

00:07 – Jonathan Wilson

00:06 – David Noble

00:05 – Kristos Zatania

00:05 – Inoue Doi

00:03 – Chet Worth

00:02 – The Woman With A Black Heart

00:02 – Aaron Jones Jr.

00:02 – Rune Winters

00:01 – Latrell Samuel

00:01 – Mary-Lynn Mayweather

00:01 - Hornet

I had turned the corner onto 13^th street at 5^th avenue in Park Slope, Brooklyn, and came across five people milling about outside Lucky 13 Saloon, smoking cigarettes.

At least, I assume they’re cigarettes. The people who smoke the other stuff usually walk up a few feet into the darkness.

Not much, Tim, I said, meeting someone here tonight for business.

Tim let the cigarette hang from his lips as he stepped toward me and gave me a hug. He DJ’s here on Thursday nights, mainly because he lives three blocks away and it’s an easy night for him.

“You and your business,” said Tim, “Just flippin’ relax tonight, dude.”

He didn’t say ‘flippin’ either, but by now I’m sure you’ve figured out that I’m applying a filter to my night.

Tim was a mainstay of the underground Metal community in New York City, and Brooklyn in particular. He knew everyone, from Juliya to the boys in Killcode, to Otep, to Marilyn Manson, to Jimmy Duff, to the girls in Kittie, to Sum 41 of all bands, and the list could probably continue indefinitely. But he was happy – I hesitate to say content – doing his local DJ gigs every night of the week.

Thursdays was Lucky 13’s, like I said.

Who’s here, I said, even though I could just as easily go inside and see.

“It’s dead,” said Tim, “Joey James is supposed to be on his way, and I talked to Willow before, she said she was coming out which means Michele probably will, too.”

Willow and Michele were both locals, good kids and talented photographers. Joey James, on the other hand, was an amazingly talented artist who has done work for Otep, Type O Negative, Duff’s Brooklyn, and a bunch of people I’ve forgotten. Not to mention his Los Angeles billboard.

Cool, I said, will see you inside, sir.

I pulled the door open and was greeted with the sounds of ‘The American Dream’ by Walls of Jericho. Good song, but incredibly heavy. I met Chris and Candace when they last swept through New York, and they were cool folks, but she was far too angry on record.

She makes Miss Ivy look like a hippie, if you get my drift.

Hey Jen, I said, as I stepped toward the bar. I kneeled on one of the barstools and leaned over the divider so I could give the girl a hug.

“What’s going on, Knox?” asked Jen, “How’s your better half been?”

Working, I replied, all the time. But she’s off next Thursday and told me she wants to do the Brooklyn tour and see everyone again.

“Cool,” said Jen, getting down to business, “What can I get you?”

Amstel, I replied. That’s my home – away –f rom – home drink, since most bars in NYC don’t carry Dos Equis.

Jen fished the bottle out of the cooler, and in one smooth motion, popped the lid, pulled a coaster from the stack on the bar, and placed coaster and beer in front of me. I dropped a ten and waved her off.

Yeah, the beer was five bucks and I left five for Jen. Tip your bartenders, people.

“So how’ve you been?” asked Jen, “I heard you got hurt.”

Hesitation.

As if talking about it could make it happen.

Yeah, I hurt my back before wrestling at Coop’s, of all places, I said, but I’m fine now. I’m actually meeting up with someone in the biz tonight.

“Cool,” replied Jen, “So we’ll see you on TV again soon?”

I don’t think these guys are on TV, I said, but yeah, I’ll be getting back to work soon which means pain in strange places and more classified crap.

Her eyes went wide.

Joke – things, I said, Pain happens, but it’s just post – match stiffness. Long as I don’t push it, I should be fine.

Tim reentered the bar and made a beeline for his DJ equipment. The song was coming to an end and he quickly changed tracks.

Otep. Crooked Spoons. Of course it is.

So I’m waiting for this guy to come in, I said, he’s this old school journalist that’s gonna be involved with the new group I’m starting with. Has anyone been in here looking for me tonight?

“No, not that I know of,” replied Jen.

I nodded and leaned back to see what was on television. Looks like The Thirst, a truly horrible vampire movie. Lucky’s was always good for a few things: good music and bad movies. But it’s a law of nature, the only thing better than a good horror movie is a bad one.

“Impulse?”

I didn’t recognize the voice, but I knew who it was. Randall Knox, I said, as I turned around, you must be Russel David?

The man in front of me nodded and extended his hand, which I shook.

“Jamison, neat,” said Russ to Jen, which made me chuckle. The bar was fully stocked, but I was always amused whenever someone ordered something other than a beer or a shot.

Let’s move to a table, I said, gesturing to the sea of them in the middle of the floor, and you can tell me what this is all about.

“Basically,” said Russ, “myself and a few partners and investors are bringing Legion back to life. You know the history of the organization?”

Dude, I said, You called me because you apparently knew about me, so you should know the answer to that.

The answer to that, by the by, is that I know the history of any organization that shows the slightest interest in me, and the history of any organization that I’ve got the slightest interest in working for.

Who else is on the roster, I asked.

“Well, we just released some information on Mike Randa—“

I’m in, I interrupted.

“—lls. Wait, what?”

I’m in, I repeated. I want to be a part of Legion.

“Well, alright then,” said Russ, as he raised his glass and clacked it against my bottle, “I don’t have the paperwork with me but I’ll give you a call in a few days.”

Maybe it was strange that all it took for me to want to be part of Legion were the words ‘Mike’ and ‘Randalls’ but it had been two years since I’ve seen him, and had some things to talk to him about.

Nobody knows about this, but before NFW Wrestlestock 2, I couldn’t sleep, so I went wandering though the desert and came across a bonfire, and a man and a woman sitting around it.

Angel, lead singer of Valerian’s Garden, the de – facto headliner of record for the musical portion of Wrestlestock, and Mike Randalls himself. As far as I can tell, nobody knew he was there except for the three of us.

And he might not even have been there; I don’t remember going back to the tent with Rosie, and I couldn’t find the site the next day, so it might’ve just been a dream.

But I don’t know.

They both gave me some advice that night; good advice that’s served me well. I’d like to have the chance to say thank you.

Even if it was all in my head.

Whoever said Spain was a clean and beautiful country was full of shit. Walking down these streets every night after a show reminds you of being back home. So much trash that you feel like you’re walking down an alley in New York City and so many homeless people that you feel like you’re in D.C. It’s hard on the soul knowing that these are the people you’re fighting for, yet when you can’t even get things right in your own country, how are you supposed to help every other one? In this day and age it’s hard to catch a break yourself; breaking your back for over eighteen years at something you’ve devoted your life to. And it’s hard to even catch a decent meal yourself, I’d toss these bums something everywhere I went if I didn’t have to keep it for myself.

The image of Jesse Ramey continuing to stroll down a Spanish alley way continued; his arms rested inside of his vintage trench coat. And to think, the only coat I can afford is the very one that I wear to the ring every single night. If I’m not careful in a couple of years I could wind up on the unemployment line, and living in a box like the rest of these people. All of the things I’ve fought for in life could easily forget about me with the next new thing that steps foot through that curtain. I’m not getting any younger, and all of the talent coming into this sport just keeps getting younger. Sometimes I wonder if these old bones should just hang up the boots, but then again the thought of eating at a soup kitchen every night isn’t as appealing as it may have been when I was younger.

I’m beginning to wonder if I’m good at much of anything really. I haven’t been able to find success in nearly eight years and Lord knows the men I’ve trained haven’t seen any kind of success either. So, what will my legacy really hold? Or will there even be a legacy to be held? Am I doomed to just wonder off into the darkness and be forgotten completely like so many other greats who have stepped into that squared circle; but never quite could escape that glass ceiling?

That was when Jesse suddenly stopped, he had been watching the ground as he walked and pondered. His line of sight slowly adjusted upward as a pair of fancy black shoes caught his attention, standing directly in front of him. The dimly lit alley way had only offered him a view of the shoes standing in front of him though. Jesse brought his hands from within his trench coat ready for whatever was to come, when a hand emerged from the shadows holding an envelope. Jesse took a moment before extending his arm and taking the envelope, the hand retracted into the shadows. Jesse flipped the top of the envelope and pulled out the contents.

“Dear Mr. Ramey, we have been watching you for years. We know of your struggles; and your accomplishments. This road you walk is a lonely one, but we are offering you something more meaningful to do with your life before your end comes. Do you have it in you to climb to the top one more time, or will you let this chance slip through your fingers like you’ve done so many times before? This is an expiring offer; do you have what it takes to be a part of Legion?”

Two years since the TEAM Invitational 64-man tournament, Randalls stood on the outskirts of Sheffield, Texas, at what some would call a ranch. Needing supplies for the week he had decided to drive along Route 349 south to the lone filling station near town. As he drove into the station, it was midday. The sun hung above the old rusted and dusted building, as if to shine a spotlight on an age forgotten, once the highways were made to stretch across the countries as fast as possible… crossing the details off the map, if you will.

The taste of his activities from the early afternoon still lingering in his mouth, Randalls bought a pack of cigarettes from the proprietor. He then gathered basic foodstuffs and filled his gas tank and then went back in to pay.

You looking forward to March Madness? Asked the proprietor.

Pardon? Randalls replied, taken off guard by the sudden small talk.

Basketball. You know, the kids and not the overpaid adults. I’m cheering for Baylor. They’re my team.

Your team? You own them?

Well, obviously not.

You seem awfully faithful to men you don't know...

Well… you just decide to be a fan.

Sounds like misplaced entitlement to me.

Well… alright, I’m not asking you to be one. The man behind the counter said, as he pushed forward the change. It was stacked as if it where a pile of chips. Randalls looked at his change, and then back up at the man. The man behind the counter squirmed slightly.

Is there anything else I can get for you, sir?

Why Baylor?

Wife and I lived in Waco for twenty years until her father passed away. See, he used to own this place.

And you inherited it? Randalls voice was without care, he was indeed still lost in his head after what had happened earlier in the afternoon.

Nah, her father used to own it but after he died… we simply decided to take it over.

So you did inherit it.

No, sir. We just took responsibility for it.

There was a silence as Randalls simply stood there and stared at the man behind the counter. The proprietor squirmed once again, before looking to the side and coughing into his fist.

I had a vision this morning.

Excuse me, sir?

A vision. A spirit walk, I suppose you could say it was a journey. Though I’m not sure what you would call it and shouldn't assume such things.

You not get enough sleep?

Randalls tilted his head at the man behind the counter, and again the man looked out through the window at the gas pumps and coughed into his fist.

It could have been a dream by other accords. Have you heard of Legion? Randalls asked the proprietor, knowing the answer.

No, was the answer.

I didn’t either. But then I saw it all.

All?

One-hundred and twenty years of history. Four points of light, four corners of the mind. Earth, water, fire...and the air. The Constant is air, the Legion is all around us… he’s the earth, the Shepherd is the water, nourishing the world around it… and finally the fire is the Destroyer. Though I do not know the air, I am familiar with the earth, I’ve lived with it's salt. These are the things I know… who I know, but then I saw it… a dog-headed man, red teeth tearing at a grey jay. Wolves at the door. The flood coming, the black moon rising and I wondered to myself if it was up to me.

Oh…kay...

Do I become the Shepherd or the Destroyer… where will the Way lead me?

Sir, you gonna be alright?

Me? I’m going to be just fine. Legion...

Randalls' eyes fixated on his new friend 'causing the man to take a big gulp.

...they know nothing of the their black horizon.