Post by Rated R on Feb 2, 2017 12:45:16 GMT -5
Last week we witnessed the very first WFWF show without the words “Trace Demon - owner” being attached to it in a long time. And I bet everyone was thinking it was going to be some grand event, some monumental shift in how the WFWF operates. I bet you were all thinking it was gonna be some utopia where everyone gets a fair shake and there’s nothing underhand going on. Where the wrestling is better and the heroes are purer.
God, how much more wrong can you be.
See nothing has changed. This place is the same as it ever was, it’s still motivated by ego, driven by selfish desires. Soon enough you’ll have to admit that it wasn’t me dragging the WFWF down, but Lila Sleater. You’ve only got to look at the her little welcome promo to see that all she’s ever wanted is to be front and centre, hogging up the limelight that should be given to the actual wrestlers. At least I stepped in the ring, put my body on the line, gave my blood and sweat to this company. You think Lila cares enough about the WFWF to even consider doing that? Fat chance. No, soon enough you’ll have to admit that everything you hate about the WFWF was all her doing.
That is if there’s even a WFWF left.
See you’ve only got to look at the last show to see that it’s all falling apart without me. It was me that held this company up both inside that ring and behind the scenes. Now that I’m not part of the latter Lila Sleater’s got free reign to tear the whole place down with her selfishness and stupidity. And you best believe that’s wha she’s going to do. See this Supreme Gauntlet was meant to be about the ten greatest competitors in the WFWF fighting it out to prove the rightful WFWF World Heavyweight Champion, so when you announce an open invitational battle royal for the final spot… well you expect that there’d be a few people chomping at the bit to get in on that, right?
Wrong.
One person showed. That’s all your precious Lila Sleater could manage. One guy. A joke. A nobody. And he’s in on a technicality? Lila Sleater allowed that to happen? You really think that’s the sign of someone who knows what they’re doing? Or rather is it the sign of someone who’s suddenly lost the safety net, of a person who doesn’t have someone who knows what they’re doing waiting in the wings to come and save her. I know which one I see. And if you’re smart you will to. But you’re not smart, are you? You’ve all proven that time and time again.
People are idiots, people believe that good things will just happen, that they don’t have to work for them. See there’s a reason people put idiots and dictators and floppy haired lunatics into power. It’s because they don’t want to think about a world where they have to actually work for what they want. They think that these people are just give it to them. People can’t see the forest for the trees. They’d rather stay ignorant because that means they’ve got an excuse to stay lazy, an excuse to stay a loser.
I see the truth, I know what it takes to be a winner. I know what it takes to get what you want. And I’ll do whatever it takes to get what I want. Can you same the same?
< *** >
Trace Demon Presents
Cinderella Story
The Langham Hotel, Chicago
Anna Anders: Trace? Trace? Did you hear what I said? I’m…
Okay, let’s rewind a minute. Anna Anders, the implausibly hot nineteen year old daughter of Jason Anders, yes, that Jason Anders, is…
Anna Anders: Pregnant.
Now I wish I could question why she broke in my hotel room to tell me this but, let’s face it, I’m incredibly smart. I know the answer. But still, a glimmer of hope can’t hurt.
Trace Demon: And you’re sure it’s mine.
Anna Anders: Well I’ve not been f*cking anyone else.
Trace Demon: But we used protection.
Anna Anders: I know. I remember how insistent you were that you wrap it up. I don’t know what to tell you, it didn’t work.
Damn my incredibly potent sperm.
Trace Demon: God, I need a drink.
Anna Anders: I thought you were so-
Trace Demon: Water! I was talking about water!
As I fill a glass with water I instantly regret my request that they get rid of the minibar. On the other hand, pretty sure my lengthy sobriety wouldn’t have stood up to this bomb. Again on the third hand, and yes I know that’s not a thing but go with me here, water really doesn’t take the edge off.
Trace Demon: So you’re expecting my kid. Right, okay, we’ll just… aww f*cking hell!
Anna Anders: You’re freaking out.
Trace Demon: Oh really? Am I freaking out? Thanks for letting me know, here I was thinking I was dealing with this news with the utmost grace! But now, thanks to your insight into my psyche, I can accept that I’m freaking out over the idea of having a child with a nineteen year old girl! I mean sure, a hot nineteen year old girl who has a talent for giving head, I think it’s that thing you do with your tongue, you know where you wait that’s not the point I’m making! My point that I’m making is… god f*cking damn it!
I collapse onto the sofa, breathing heavily. Am I having a heart attack? No, no I am not, but it’s always good to check.
Anna Anders: Are you done?
Trace Demon: Give me one sec.
I let out a loud roar, thankful that I’m rich and scary enough that the staff aren’t going to come questioning what’s going on.
Trace Demon: Okay, I’m done.
Anna Anders: Good, because I’m not keeping the thing.
My head snaps up so fast I think I’ve given myself whiplash.
Trace Demon: What now?
Anna Anders: I’m not keeping it. I don’t want to have a kid. I’m nineteen! And you’re… well, you. No offence.
Trace Demon: Well until you said that I thought it was a compliment. Y’know, you could have led with the not keeping it thing, saved us both some time and me a considerable amount of emotional turmoil.
Anna Anders: Where’s the fun in that?
Is it any surprise I dived between those legs the first chance I got?
Trace Demon: Funny. So you’re getting rid of it? Well quick! Let’s get you to the nearest clinic before Trump decides he owns your womb! Unless he already does… f*ck I wish I watched the news but their Maple Leafs coverage is so sh*t.
Anna Anders: That’s the thing Trace, getting rid of this thing… it’s not exactly cheap.
Should have seen that coming. Why else would she come here and give me the heads up instead of just doing it? Good old fashioned blackmail and extortion, that’s why.
Trace Demon: You realise your dad isn't poor anymore right? I mean he's cheap, but he's not poor.
Anna Anders: You want me to go to my dad and ask for abortion money? Because I'm pregnant with the baby of his old boss who he kind of hates now? You do see how that might not go down too well?
Trace Demon: I'm seeing the error in my judgment, yeah. Fine, how much d’you need?
Anna Anders: Fifty thousand.
Trace Demon: Fifty… fifty thousand… you want…
Anna Anders: Are you having a stroke?
Am I? Maybe? I'm not really sure.
Trace Demon: I'm no expert but last I checked an abortion did not cost fifty thousand dollars.
I'm pretty sure I'm right. Believe it or not I've only ever gotten one woman pregnant before and I actually wanted that kid. I mean there's even odds that I've got tiny sociopathic children running about that I don't know about but as long as they remain not known about that's just fine.
Anna Anders: No, about five hundred, the rest is for me. This is a one time deal Trace, I don't want this kid and it's not like I can blackmail you with it once it's gone. I've got to get what I can while I've got the bargaining chip. I'm pretty sure you want a kid with me even less than I want one with you.
Is it bad that a well thought out blackmail attempt turns me on?
Trace Demon: And you're stopping at fifty thousand?
Anna Anders: I felt like if I asked for more you'd probably murder me. Not even joking.
Who's joking, I totally would.
Trace Demon: Fine. One condition though, you go to my doctor, I want to make sure it's done and done properly.
Anna Anders: I'm not going to some back alley doctor, you can forget it.
Trace Demon: As your extortion has so handily pointed out I'm f*cking rich. Rich men only use dodgy doctors for drugs and mistresses. Doc Brown is the family doctor, I've known him for years, he'll see you right.
Anna Anders: The family doctor? I'm touched.
You being touched is what got me into this trouble in the first place.
Trace Demon: Don't be, I'm just making sure you don't show up in nine months with a surprise for me. Here-
I scribble Doc Browns number on a napkin, cliche I know, and make a mental reminder to top up his private account. Who knew being rich involved so much shady sh*t? Well, other than politicians, bankers, big pharma… okay, I'll stop, it's probably a long list.
Trace Demon: Call him, make an appointment, he'll tell me when it's done. And Anna, don't call me again. If this isn't a sign you need to sort your life out then I don't know what is, and I don't need another self-reflective teenage girl in my life.
Not when I just got rid of one. S’up Drakz, how's the broken everything?
Anna Anders: Wait, you're not going to come with me? It's your kid as well.
Trace Demon: Oh, did I trick you into thinking I was a good person? Because I'm really not. Go on, out, unless you want a goodbye f*ck?
Anna Anders: Seriously?
Trace Demon: I've got time.
Anna Anders: F*cking he'll Trace, you really are the devil everyone makes you out to be, aren't you?
I think about it, consider whether this is the person I was brought up to be, whether I’m happy with how my life is tur- ah you know what, who am I even kidding here?
Trace Demon: You know what?
I pull the hotel door open and let her past. With f*cking apparently off the table I've got no reason to want her here.
Trace Demon: I really f*cking am.
< *** >
The Demon Residence, Los Angeles
Axel Demon: This is a joke, eh?
I flick the TV off. Every time I've watched it I've come ever closer to throwing the TV out of the window in disgust.
Trace Demon: I wish. I told you to show up. You could have had a spot. I mean you'd have lost to me but that'd put you on par with the rest of the roster.
Axel Demon: I was in Japan bro, besides I don't want no part of that sh*t show you call a wrestling promotion. I wrestle, I don't do politics and sword attacks.
Trace Demon: You sound like Joe Bishop.
Axel Demon: F*ck that, your little pet project’s as nuts as the rest of them.
Axel, for those not in the know, is my baby brother. Well, at 24 he's not exactly a baby, but any older brother will get it. He's like me, the wrestler bit, not the violent millionaire bit. He followed me into it when he was eighteen, went up to Japan to train when I refused to do it. Long been my philosophy that working with family only leads to McGurks, and who wants that.
Axel Demon: Not to mention that having the surname Demon isn't exactly going to make me any friends round there. I'd rather stick to doing my own thing thank you very much.
He's long been good enough to compete in the WFWF but he's adamant he doesn't want anything to do with it. I respect that. He's not like this stupid idiot Jass who was happy in the minor leagues, Axel wants success, he'd just rather make it for himself. There's a big difference between independence and settling for mediocrity.
I chuck him a second bottle of Du Monde. Might not drink myself anymore but if Emily and Caitlyn are going to drink under my roof I’ll be damned if they’re drinking sh*tty American beer.
Axel Demon: You gone to visit Faith yet? She’s been asking after you.
Faith Demon, the middle child. Yes. Trace, Faith and Axel Demon. That’s a thing.
Trace Demon: Not got round to it.
Axel Demon: Come on man, you’ve not got the whole busy businessman excuse anymore. Buck up and go see her.
Trace Demon: Maybe.
He means well, always does, not a bad bone in the kid’s body. Always said that if I got all the evil in the Demon family then Axel got all the good. Faith… well Faith is a lot more difficult to define. Not even sure I could find the words to do it. Family is… difficult, sometimes. No other way to say it. But they’re family, and that’s the one thing I’ve always stood by. Everyone else can go to hell, but family, blood or otherwise, well that means something, even to me.
Axel Demon: Tell me, does he always have to put such a downer on everything?
Emily Hall: Seems that way, doesn’t it?
My head snaps sideways. I was in such a world of my own I didn’t even notice her coming down the stairs, even though she’s hard to miss with that electric blue streak in her hair. Too much time spent with my seemingly permanent lodger Caitlyn I suppose. Emily’s my half-sister, long story. Short version? My dad was a horrible human being and impressively one of his lesser crimes against my family was cheating on my mom, hence Emily. I met her when she was sixteen, at my mother’s funeral. Shortly after her grandmother died and I’ve been her guardian ever since.
Thing people never tell you though? You’re still looking after a kid as much at nineteen as you are at sixteen. Anyone tells you you become an adult at eighteen? They’re full of sh*t.
Trace Demon: I thought you were going with the nanny to pick Eliza up from school?
Still haven’t learnt the nanny’s name. Side effect of purposefully hiring a nanny you don’t want to sleep with? You get an intimidating forty year old Spanish woman who’s name you never know. Tale as old as time.
Axel Demon: Where is that niece of mine? Not like I came here to babysit this old timer.
Trace Demon: I will shove that bottle somewhere very uncomfortable if you don’t shut it with the old man jokes.
Axel Demon: Ooh, so scary. So out with it Em, where’s the rugrat?
Emily Hall: Caitlyn wanted to swing by the centre so she volunteered to do the school run instead. Not exactly going to say no. Hey, that better not be the last beer!
I often question whether I’m a good role model. Then I remember that not only am I raising a four year old girl as a single father but also my nineteen year old half-sister and Caitlyn, the twenty year old runaway I took in a year and a half back who my daughter likes too much to kick out. Both of whom insist that despite often sharing the same bedroom that they’re not actually a couple. Am I a good role model? God no. But I’m a damn sight better father than I had any right turning out to be given the circumstances.
After all, none of them have died. That’s a win, right?
Axel Demon: And so what if it is?
Emily Hall: I will mess you up!
She leaps across the room at him, Axel leaping backwards off of the seat towards the table. I can’t stop the smile creeping across my face. I always said I’d make sure my family was better off than I was when I was growing up, that they were the only thing that really mattered. That’s not exactly true anymore, the world’s a far more complicated place and I want far more from it than just happiness, but at the end of the day family’s the only thing you’ve got left when you’re old and broken.
Yeah, family’s important…
No, don’t be stupid. It’s done, it’s what you wanted, get that out of your head right f*cking now.
Axel Demon: Oh, too slow!
I’m shaken free from my thoughts by Axel’s playful shout. Emily’s next dive isn’t too slow, she times it just right, snatches the beer out of his hand and sends him tumbling to the floor in the same move.
Trace Demon: And you call yourself a wrestler.
Axel Demon: She caught me off guard!
Emily takes a victory swig, then pulls out a scrap of paper from her jacket.
Emily Hall: Nearly forgot, some grungy looking guy came to the door, said you knew him, told me to give you his number. Pretty sure he jumped the gate to get in by the way, thought you were keeping better company nowadays?
I look at the number scribbled on the paper, know full well who she’s talking about before I ask.
Trace Demon: Did he give you a name?
Emily Hall: Yeah, it was something stupid.
Axel Demon: Stupider than Trace Demon?
Emily Hall: You’re one to talk. Who the f*ck’s called Axel anymore?
Trace Demon: Enough! Name, now.
Emily Hall: Alright you cranky old man. Tyler, Tyler Draven I think.
That son of a-
< *** >
Downtown Los Angeles
I look down at the text, not sure why it bothers me so much. Sh*t like this doesn’t get to me, it just doesn’t. I’m Trace f*cking Demon. I don’t second guess myself, I just move. Never backwards, always forwards.
I shove the phone in my pocket, look up at the run down apartment block. Didn’t take long to find him. Never does when you’ve got money and know the right people. A few calls, that’s all it takes when you’ve got the whole world in the palm of your hand.
Out of the car, into the building, charing up the stairs. Not sure what I’m going to do when I get there but I know it’s going to be bad. I’m all riled up, blood boiling, letting emotion get the better of me. Angry, need to take it out on someone and this kid f*cked up first.
Hammering my fist on the door. Footsteps. The door swings open and there he stands. Tyler Draven. The grungy pop-punk wannabe wrestler.
Trace Demon: I gave you one warning.
I push him back, barging into the apartment. Small, cheap, the kind of place I haven’t stayed in in years.
Tyler Draven: What are you-
No talking, not yet, just action. My fist slams into his gut, cutting him off. I kick him to the floor. Wanted him to know I’m not f*cking around, well he damn well does now.
Trace Demon: I told you to keep away from me, that it wasn’t gong to happen!
I didn’t really care when he stalked me, invaded my favourite breakfast spot, all for the sake of asking me to train him. Kids do stupid things all the time. I taught him a lesson, but it obviously didn’t take.
Trace Demon: But you came to my house! You were around my family! You wanted me to train you right? You’d think you’d have done some damn research first!
Tyler Draven: I did! I know everyth-
A swift kick to the gut. Haven’t fought outside a wrestling arena in a long time, never works out well if you ask me. But nothing else is gonna satiate my blood lust right about now.
Trace Demon: If you’d done your research then you’d know how f*cking stupid it was to turn up at my door! One warning, that’s all you get! You’d know that too!
I grab him by the collar, haul him to his feet, see the terror in his eyes, savour it, bath in being feared. Who needs drugs when you’ve got this. I raise my fist again, done with talking-
Lucy Draven: What are you doing!
I stop mid-swing, kick myself, didn’t even think that the kid would have a girlfriend here. Throw him back to the floor, I’m not stupid. Even if they called the police nothing would happen. I’m rich. And white. Hate to say that but it’s the way the world works. Nothing wrong with taking advantage of it.
But it’s not a girlfriend. Not unless this kid has a seriously messed up head. If that’s the case then I’ll finish what I started and then some.
Lucy Draven: Tyler? What’s happening?
Tyler Draven: It’s… it’s alright Lucy, it’s fine, just go back into your room.
Struggling to hold back, struggling to stop myself from curb stomping him here and now. Good thing I left the bat in the car, not sure I’d be so restrained otherwise.
Lucy Draven: But-
Tyler Draven: Just do it!
The girl stares at me, unsure what to do. I say girl because she can’t be older then ten, eleven at a push. But it’s not the age that stopped me in my tracks, it’s the wheelchair. It’s how helpless she looks. It’s the fact she lives in a place like this with some loser. She turns, wheels herself back into her room, closes the door behind her. I look down at Draven, swaying between anger and pity.
Trace Demon: How old are you kid?
Tyler Draven: Twenty one.
Trace Demon: Then she’s your…?
Tyler Draven: Sister. She’s my sister.
He hauls himself up to his feet, wincing in pain.
Trace Demon: What’s wrong with her?
Tyler Draven: Why the hell should I tell you?
I look at him, eyebrow raised. He relents.
Tyler Draven: Car accident damaged her spine.
Trace Demon: And your parents?
Tyler Draven: Same accident.
I unclench my fists, not prepared to put the last person that girl’s got in hospital. I’m a monster but not when there’s no need for it.
Trace Demon: Then you should be spending your time trying to get her out of this sh*thole, not trying to be a wrestler.
Tyler Draven: That’s why I want to wrestle! There’s a treatment, she could get help, stem cells or something like that, but it’s way too expensive! I’m stronger than I look, top of the wrestling team in school, I know there’s money in it. But I need help, I know I can’t just walk into it, that’s why I… you’ve always been my favourite wrestler and when I found out you lived so close I… I had to try, y’know?
Trace Demon: Kid, despite what you think there’s f*ck all money in this unless you’re in a big fed, and unless the person hiring has had a stroke then they’re not bringing in a nobody. Though, right now I guess anything’s possible.
He looks at me like I’ve run over his dog. I pull out my wallet, sure it’s still in here somewhere… bingo.
Trace Demon: Here-
He shakily takes the card I’ve handed him. Not sure why I’ve still got it but I guess it had a purpose at the end of the day.
Trace Demon: That’s a school run by Wayne McGurk, not too far from here. You want to learn to wrestle? You go there.
Tyler Draven: I don’t have the money to-
Trace Demon: Doesn’t matter. I still own half the place even if I don’t show my face anymore. I’ll make a call, tell him you’re coming, you won’t have to worry about the money. But kid, really, you want to help your sister? Wrestling isn’t the way to do it.
Tyler Draven: It’s the only thing I was ever really good at.
Yeah, I know the feeling.
Trace Demon: Just get yourself sorted out, and don’t go knocking on doors you’re not meant to be knocking on, understand? Next time you might not get off with a couple of bruised ribs.
I’m gone before he can say anything, no time for thanks or watching a grown man cry. Can’t even explain to myself why I cared enough to give him the card. A small balancing of the scales? Why would I give a sh*t about that?
I pull my phone out again, the text still lingering on the screen, and as much as I don’t want to admit it I know exactly why I did it. There’s a chink in my armour, there always has been, a weakness I can’t bury like the rest. The entire reason I’ve bled and hurt for all these years. My entire purpose for being a wrestler in the first place.
Text from Doc Brown: “It’s done”.
The only thing that matters.
Family.
< *** >
Well, can you?
Can you really tell me that you’re ready for this? That you deserve this? I heard those fans chanting, I heard them telling you lies, I saw you eat it up. And you know why you did it Hugh? You know why you believed them? Because you’re just like everyone else. You’re just another guy who thinks that everything he wants is just going to be served up to him on a silver platter. That he doesn’t have to put in the work. So when they chant that you deserve it you believe them like the fool that you are.
See I could sit here and I could mock your name all day. Hugh Jass. I bet there’s a ton of very witty remarks that I could make. And maybe another time I would. Maybe another time I’d come up with some smart remarks, I’d make fun of you a little bit, I’d talk about how I was going to beat you and send you back to little Bonnyville in a bodybag and that’d be it. I’d be content. But I don’t coast along on past victories anymore. And I’m not going to let you off with something oh so simple.
See Hugh I’ve done my research. I’m not taking you lightly. Part of me was happy that a fellow Cancuk got a chance like this. I saw you win and I thought, oh it’s not his fault nobody else turned up. That’s not on him, at least he had the balls to go out there when nobody had a clue who he was. Then I saw you celebrate and I thought… maybe he’s just excited, he’s hit the big time, it’s a big deal, a dream come true. But that’s not it, is it Bonnyville? That’s not who you are. See I’ve done my research and I don’t like what I’ve heard about you.
Little Hugh Jass from little Bonnyville has actually been wrestling for fourteen years. He stepped into that ring when he was sixteen. But tell me people, have you ever heard of Hugh Jass? I mean come on, you’d remember an bunghole with a name like that, wouldn’t you? But have you? Because I haven’t. See I ran the WFWF for two years and that name had never popped up. I spent hours every day scouting talent, looking for the next big thing, scouring message boards, taking recommendations, hitting up every show with any kind of talk behind it… but I never even heard about you.
So why is that Jass? Why’ve you come to the attention of a guy like myself, or anyone else worth a damn? It’s because you’ve got no drive, it’s because you coast along happy to perform in your little bingo halls because you think it makes you a wrestler. You think that you can just have fun and that’s enough, that life’ll work itself out, that everything will be okay as long as you’re having fun. I wouldn’t even be surprised to find out you’ve been on pogey, suckling from the tit of a government too happy to bend over of hoser’s like you.
Thing is you missed something when you were running round that ring, it didn’t quite click for you, did it? What it really means to be win that match and take a spot in this tournament. Go on, think about it, I’ll give you a minute.
It means facing me. See Hugh your time in the WFWF is going to be remarkably short, but people are gonna remember you. Because that’s what people like you want, to be remembered even when they don’t want to put the work in to earn it. But don’t worry, I’m gonna make them remember you for sure. Because I am going to make an example out of you. I am going to show you and every single one of these people what happens when you think you can just coast along doing the bare minimum and it’ll get you where you want to go. Because that is not how the world works. See when you do that, when you stroll through life doing nothing the only thing that’s gonna happen is you’re going to find yourself beneath the boot of someone like me.
You want to believe you deserve this? Go ahead. You want to believe that you can just have fun and everything will work out nicely? Fine. You go on believing that. But it won’t last for long. You’re gonna step into that ring, into my ring, and you are going to realise the truth. That there is no happy ending for people like you. This is no cinderella story Hugh, this is a life lesson that it’s about damn time that every single person realised and accepted. You don’t get what you want by sitting back and hoping and praying and ‘having fun’! You get what you want by standing up and taking it.
And me?
I’m going to take your fun little Bonnyville life… and I’m going to rip it f*cking shreds.
You hear that Jass? The clock just struck midnight.
Your cinderella story is already done.
God, how much more wrong can you be.
See nothing has changed. This place is the same as it ever was, it’s still motivated by ego, driven by selfish desires. Soon enough you’ll have to admit that it wasn’t me dragging the WFWF down, but Lila Sleater. You’ve only got to look at the her little welcome promo to see that all she’s ever wanted is to be front and centre, hogging up the limelight that should be given to the actual wrestlers. At least I stepped in the ring, put my body on the line, gave my blood and sweat to this company. You think Lila cares enough about the WFWF to even consider doing that? Fat chance. No, soon enough you’ll have to admit that everything you hate about the WFWF was all her doing.
That is if there’s even a WFWF left.
See you’ve only got to look at the last show to see that it’s all falling apart without me. It was me that held this company up both inside that ring and behind the scenes. Now that I’m not part of the latter Lila Sleater’s got free reign to tear the whole place down with her selfishness and stupidity. And you best believe that’s wha she’s going to do. See this Supreme Gauntlet was meant to be about the ten greatest competitors in the WFWF fighting it out to prove the rightful WFWF World Heavyweight Champion, so when you announce an open invitational battle royal for the final spot… well you expect that there’d be a few people chomping at the bit to get in on that, right?
Wrong.
One person showed. That’s all your precious Lila Sleater could manage. One guy. A joke. A nobody. And he’s in on a technicality? Lila Sleater allowed that to happen? You really think that’s the sign of someone who knows what they’re doing? Or rather is it the sign of someone who’s suddenly lost the safety net, of a person who doesn’t have someone who knows what they’re doing waiting in the wings to come and save her. I know which one I see. And if you’re smart you will to. But you’re not smart, are you? You’ve all proven that time and time again.
People are idiots, people believe that good things will just happen, that they don’t have to work for them. See there’s a reason people put idiots and dictators and floppy haired lunatics into power. It’s because they don’t want to think about a world where they have to actually work for what they want. They think that these people are just give it to them. People can’t see the forest for the trees. They’d rather stay ignorant because that means they’ve got an excuse to stay lazy, an excuse to stay a loser.
I see the truth, I know what it takes to be a winner. I know what it takes to get what you want. And I’ll do whatever it takes to get what I want. Can you same the same?
< *** >
Trace Demon Presents
Cinderella Story
The Langham Hotel, Chicago
Anna Anders: Trace? Trace? Did you hear what I said? I’m…
Okay, let’s rewind a minute. Anna Anders, the implausibly hot nineteen year old daughter of Jason Anders, yes, that Jason Anders, is…
Anna Anders: Pregnant.
Now I wish I could question why she broke in my hotel room to tell me this but, let’s face it, I’m incredibly smart. I know the answer. But still, a glimmer of hope can’t hurt.
Trace Demon: And you’re sure it’s mine.
Anna Anders: Well I’ve not been f*cking anyone else.
Trace Demon: But we used protection.
Anna Anders: I know. I remember how insistent you were that you wrap it up. I don’t know what to tell you, it didn’t work.
Damn my incredibly potent sperm.
Trace Demon: God, I need a drink.
Anna Anders: I thought you were so-
Trace Demon: Water! I was talking about water!
As I fill a glass with water I instantly regret my request that they get rid of the minibar. On the other hand, pretty sure my lengthy sobriety wouldn’t have stood up to this bomb. Again on the third hand, and yes I know that’s not a thing but go with me here, water really doesn’t take the edge off.
Trace Demon: So you’re expecting my kid. Right, okay, we’ll just… aww f*cking hell!
Anna Anders: You’re freaking out.
Trace Demon: Oh really? Am I freaking out? Thanks for letting me know, here I was thinking I was dealing with this news with the utmost grace! But now, thanks to your insight into my psyche, I can accept that I’m freaking out over the idea of having a child with a nineteen year old girl! I mean sure, a hot nineteen year old girl who has a talent for giving head, I think it’s that thing you do with your tongue, you know where you wait that’s not the point I’m making! My point that I’m making is… god f*cking damn it!
I collapse onto the sofa, breathing heavily. Am I having a heart attack? No, no I am not, but it’s always good to check.
Anna Anders: Are you done?
Trace Demon: Give me one sec.
I let out a loud roar, thankful that I’m rich and scary enough that the staff aren’t going to come questioning what’s going on.
Trace Demon: Okay, I’m done.
Anna Anders: Good, because I’m not keeping the thing.
My head snaps up so fast I think I’ve given myself whiplash.
Trace Demon: What now?
Anna Anders: I’m not keeping it. I don’t want to have a kid. I’m nineteen! And you’re… well, you. No offence.
Trace Demon: Well until you said that I thought it was a compliment. Y’know, you could have led with the not keeping it thing, saved us both some time and me a considerable amount of emotional turmoil.
Anna Anders: Where’s the fun in that?
Is it any surprise I dived between those legs the first chance I got?
Trace Demon: Funny. So you’re getting rid of it? Well quick! Let’s get you to the nearest clinic before Trump decides he owns your womb! Unless he already does… f*ck I wish I watched the news but their Maple Leafs coverage is so sh*t.
Anna Anders: That’s the thing Trace, getting rid of this thing… it’s not exactly cheap.
Should have seen that coming. Why else would she come here and give me the heads up instead of just doing it? Good old fashioned blackmail and extortion, that’s why.
Trace Demon: You realise your dad isn't poor anymore right? I mean he's cheap, but he's not poor.
Anna Anders: You want me to go to my dad and ask for abortion money? Because I'm pregnant with the baby of his old boss who he kind of hates now? You do see how that might not go down too well?
Trace Demon: I'm seeing the error in my judgment, yeah. Fine, how much d’you need?
Anna Anders: Fifty thousand.
Trace Demon: Fifty… fifty thousand… you want…
Anna Anders: Are you having a stroke?
Am I? Maybe? I'm not really sure.
Trace Demon: I'm no expert but last I checked an abortion did not cost fifty thousand dollars.
I'm pretty sure I'm right. Believe it or not I've only ever gotten one woman pregnant before and I actually wanted that kid. I mean there's even odds that I've got tiny sociopathic children running about that I don't know about but as long as they remain not known about that's just fine.
Anna Anders: No, about five hundred, the rest is for me. This is a one time deal Trace, I don't want this kid and it's not like I can blackmail you with it once it's gone. I've got to get what I can while I've got the bargaining chip. I'm pretty sure you want a kid with me even less than I want one with you.
Is it bad that a well thought out blackmail attempt turns me on?
Trace Demon: And you're stopping at fifty thousand?
Anna Anders: I felt like if I asked for more you'd probably murder me. Not even joking.
Who's joking, I totally would.
Trace Demon: Fine. One condition though, you go to my doctor, I want to make sure it's done and done properly.
Anna Anders: I'm not going to some back alley doctor, you can forget it.
Trace Demon: As your extortion has so handily pointed out I'm f*cking rich. Rich men only use dodgy doctors for drugs and mistresses. Doc Brown is the family doctor, I've known him for years, he'll see you right.
Anna Anders: The family doctor? I'm touched.
You being touched is what got me into this trouble in the first place.
Trace Demon: Don't be, I'm just making sure you don't show up in nine months with a surprise for me. Here-
I scribble Doc Browns number on a napkin, cliche I know, and make a mental reminder to top up his private account. Who knew being rich involved so much shady sh*t? Well, other than politicians, bankers, big pharma… okay, I'll stop, it's probably a long list.
Trace Demon: Call him, make an appointment, he'll tell me when it's done. And Anna, don't call me again. If this isn't a sign you need to sort your life out then I don't know what is, and I don't need another self-reflective teenage girl in my life.
Not when I just got rid of one. S’up Drakz, how's the broken everything?
Anna Anders: Wait, you're not going to come with me? It's your kid as well.
Trace Demon: Oh, did I trick you into thinking I was a good person? Because I'm really not. Go on, out, unless you want a goodbye f*ck?
Anna Anders: Seriously?
Trace Demon: I've got time.
Anna Anders: F*cking he'll Trace, you really are the devil everyone makes you out to be, aren't you?
I think about it, consider whether this is the person I was brought up to be, whether I’m happy with how my life is tur- ah you know what, who am I even kidding here?
Trace Demon: You know what?
I pull the hotel door open and let her past. With f*cking apparently off the table I've got no reason to want her here.
Trace Demon: I really f*cking am.
< *** >
The Demon Residence, Los Angeles
Hugh Jass, confused over what is happening, charges at the referee who still has his back turned by the ropes. He grabs the official and throws him over the top rope to the floor as Christa Adina’s feet. Christa looks up at Jass, horrified.
Christa Adina: …and entering the Supreme Gauntlet… Hugh Jass.
The crowd are confused at first, then erupt into cheers as “shake your rump” erupts over the speakers and Hugh Jass launches into the most over the top celebration imaginable. He exits the ring and hugs a horrified Adina, who wants to be as far away from the guy as possible. He runs over to the announce table and does the same to Knight who pushes him off. Jass runs around to Alecia…
Christa Adina: …and entering the Supreme Gauntlet… Hugh Jass.
The crowd are confused at first, then erupt into cheers as “shake your rump” erupts over the speakers and Hugh Jass launches into the most over the top celebration imaginable. He exits the ring and hugs a horrified Adina, who wants to be as far away from the guy as possible. He runs over to the announce table and does the same to Knight who pushes him off. Jass runs around to Alecia…
Axel Demon: This is a joke, eh?
I flick the TV off. Every time I've watched it I've come ever closer to throwing the TV out of the window in disgust.
Trace Demon: I wish. I told you to show up. You could have had a spot. I mean you'd have lost to me but that'd put you on par with the rest of the roster.
Axel Demon: I was in Japan bro, besides I don't want no part of that sh*t show you call a wrestling promotion. I wrestle, I don't do politics and sword attacks.
Trace Demon: You sound like Joe Bishop.
Axel Demon: F*ck that, your little pet project’s as nuts as the rest of them.
Axel, for those not in the know, is my baby brother. Well, at 24 he's not exactly a baby, but any older brother will get it. He's like me, the wrestler bit, not the violent millionaire bit. He followed me into it when he was eighteen, went up to Japan to train when I refused to do it. Long been my philosophy that working with family only leads to McGurks, and who wants that.
Axel Demon: Not to mention that having the surname Demon isn't exactly going to make me any friends round there. I'd rather stick to doing my own thing thank you very much.
He's long been good enough to compete in the WFWF but he's adamant he doesn't want anything to do with it. I respect that. He's not like this stupid idiot Jass who was happy in the minor leagues, Axel wants success, he'd just rather make it for himself. There's a big difference between independence and settling for mediocrity.
I chuck him a second bottle of Du Monde. Might not drink myself anymore but if Emily and Caitlyn are going to drink under my roof I’ll be damned if they’re drinking sh*tty American beer.
Axel Demon: You gone to visit Faith yet? She’s been asking after you.
Faith Demon, the middle child. Yes. Trace, Faith and Axel Demon. That’s a thing.
Trace Demon: Not got round to it.
Axel Demon: Come on man, you’ve not got the whole busy businessman excuse anymore. Buck up and go see her.
Trace Demon: Maybe.
He means well, always does, not a bad bone in the kid’s body. Always said that if I got all the evil in the Demon family then Axel got all the good. Faith… well Faith is a lot more difficult to define. Not even sure I could find the words to do it. Family is… difficult, sometimes. No other way to say it. But they’re family, and that’s the one thing I’ve always stood by. Everyone else can go to hell, but family, blood or otherwise, well that means something, even to me.
Axel Demon: Tell me, does he always have to put such a downer on everything?
Emily Hall: Seems that way, doesn’t it?
My head snaps sideways. I was in such a world of my own I didn’t even notice her coming down the stairs, even though she’s hard to miss with that electric blue streak in her hair. Too much time spent with my seemingly permanent lodger Caitlyn I suppose. Emily’s my half-sister, long story. Short version? My dad was a horrible human being and impressively one of his lesser crimes against my family was cheating on my mom, hence Emily. I met her when she was sixteen, at my mother’s funeral. Shortly after her grandmother died and I’ve been her guardian ever since.
Thing people never tell you though? You’re still looking after a kid as much at nineteen as you are at sixteen. Anyone tells you you become an adult at eighteen? They’re full of sh*t.
Trace Demon: I thought you were going with the nanny to pick Eliza up from school?
Still haven’t learnt the nanny’s name. Side effect of purposefully hiring a nanny you don’t want to sleep with? You get an intimidating forty year old Spanish woman who’s name you never know. Tale as old as time.
Axel Demon: Where is that niece of mine? Not like I came here to babysit this old timer.
Trace Demon: I will shove that bottle somewhere very uncomfortable if you don’t shut it with the old man jokes.
Axel Demon: Ooh, so scary. So out with it Em, where’s the rugrat?
Emily Hall: Caitlyn wanted to swing by the centre so she volunteered to do the school run instead. Not exactly going to say no. Hey, that better not be the last beer!
I often question whether I’m a good role model. Then I remember that not only am I raising a four year old girl as a single father but also my nineteen year old half-sister and Caitlyn, the twenty year old runaway I took in a year and a half back who my daughter likes too much to kick out. Both of whom insist that despite often sharing the same bedroom that they’re not actually a couple. Am I a good role model? God no. But I’m a damn sight better father than I had any right turning out to be given the circumstances.
After all, none of them have died. That’s a win, right?
Axel Demon: And so what if it is?
Emily Hall: I will mess you up!
She leaps across the room at him, Axel leaping backwards off of the seat towards the table. I can’t stop the smile creeping across my face. I always said I’d make sure my family was better off than I was when I was growing up, that they were the only thing that really mattered. That’s not exactly true anymore, the world’s a far more complicated place and I want far more from it than just happiness, but at the end of the day family’s the only thing you’ve got left when you’re old and broken.
Yeah, family’s important…
No, don’t be stupid. It’s done, it’s what you wanted, get that out of your head right f*cking now.
Axel Demon: Oh, too slow!
I’m shaken free from my thoughts by Axel’s playful shout. Emily’s next dive isn’t too slow, she times it just right, snatches the beer out of his hand and sends him tumbling to the floor in the same move.
Trace Demon: And you call yourself a wrestler.
Axel Demon: She caught me off guard!
Emily takes a victory swig, then pulls out a scrap of paper from her jacket.
Emily Hall: Nearly forgot, some grungy looking guy came to the door, said you knew him, told me to give you his number. Pretty sure he jumped the gate to get in by the way, thought you were keeping better company nowadays?
I look at the number scribbled on the paper, know full well who she’s talking about before I ask.
Trace Demon: Did he give you a name?
Emily Hall: Yeah, it was something stupid.
Axel Demon: Stupider than Trace Demon?
Emily Hall: You’re one to talk. Who the f*ck’s called Axel anymore?
Trace Demon: Enough! Name, now.
Emily Hall: Alright you cranky old man. Tyler, Tyler Draven I think.
That son of a-
< *** >
Downtown Los Angeles
I look down at the text, not sure why it bothers me so much. Sh*t like this doesn’t get to me, it just doesn’t. I’m Trace f*cking Demon. I don’t second guess myself, I just move. Never backwards, always forwards.
I shove the phone in my pocket, look up at the run down apartment block. Didn’t take long to find him. Never does when you’ve got money and know the right people. A few calls, that’s all it takes when you’ve got the whole world in the palm of your hand.
Out of the car, into the building, charing up the stairs. Not sure what I’m going to do when I get there but I know it’s going to be bad. I’m all riled up, blood boiling, letting emotion get the better of me. Angry, need to take it out on someone and this kid f*cked up first.
Hammering my fist on the door. Footsteps. The door swings open and there he stands. Tyler Draven. The grungy pop-punk wannabe wrestler.
Trace Demon: I gave you one warning.
I push him back, barging into the apartment. Small, cheap, the kind of place I haven’t stayed in in years.
Tyler Draven: What are you-
No talking, not yet, just action. My fist slams into his gut, cutting him off. I kick him to the floor. Wanted him to know I’m not f*cking around, well he damn well does now.
Trace Demon: I told you to keep away from me, that it wasn’t gong to happen!
I didn’t really care when he stalked me, invaded my favourite breakfast spot, all for the sake of asking me to train him. Kids do stupid things all the time. I taught him a lesson, but it obviously didn’t take.
Trace Demon: But you came to my house! You were around my family! You wanted me to train you right? You’d think you’d have done some damn research first!
Tyler Draven: I did! I know everyth-
A swift kick to the gut. Haven’t fought outside a wrestling arena in a long time, never works out well if you ask me. But nothing else is gonna satiate my blood lust right about now.
Trace Demon: If you’d done your research then you’d know how f*cking stupid it was to turn up at my door! One warning, that’s all you get! You’d know that too!
I grab him by the collar, haul him to his feet, see the terror in his eyes, savour it, bath in being feared. Who needs drugs when you’ve got this. I raise my fist again, done with talking-
Lucy Draven: What are you doing!
I stop mid-swing, kick myself, didn’t even think that the kid would have a girlfriend here. Throw him back to the floor, I’m not stupid. Even if they called the police nothing would happen. I’m rich. And white. Hate to say that but it’s the way the world works. Nothing wrong with taking advantage of it.
But it’s not a girlfriend. Not unless this kid has a seriously messed up head. If that’s the case then I’ll finish what I started and then some.
Lucy Draven: Tyler? What’s happening?
Tyler Draven: It’s… it’s alright Lucy, it’s fine, just go back into your room.
Struggling to hold back, struggling to stop myself from curb stomping him here and now. Good thing I left the bat in the car, not sure I’d be so restrained otherwise.
Lucy Draven: But-
Tyler Draven: Just do it!
The girl stares at me, unsure what to do. I say girl because she can’t be older then ten, eleven at a push. But it’s not the age that stopped me in my tracks, it’s the wheelchair. It’s how helpless she looks. It’s the fact she lives in a place like this with some loser. She turns, wheels herself back into her room, closes the door behind her. I look down at Draven, swaying between anger and pity.
Trace Demon: How old are you kid?
Tyler Draven: Twenty one.
Trace Demon: Then she’s your…?
Tyler Draven: Sister. She’s my sister.
He hauls himself up to his feet, wincing in pain.
Trace Demon: What’s wrong with her?
Tyler Draven: Why the hell should I tell you?
I look at him, eyebrow raised. He relents.
Tyler Draven: Car accident damaged her spine.
Trace Demon: And your parents?
Tyler Draven: Same accident.
I unclench my fists, not prepared to put the last person that girl’s got in hospital. I’m a monster but not when there’s no need for it.
Trace Demon: Then you should be spending your time trying to get her out of this sh*thole, not trying to be a wrestler.
Tyler Draven: That’s why I want to wrestle! There’s a treatment, she could get help, stem cells or something like that, but it’s way too expensive! I’m stronger than I look, top of the wrestling team in school, I know there’s money in it. But I need help, I know I can’t just walk into it, that’s why I… you’ve always been my favourite wrestler and when I found out you lived so close I… I had to try, y’know?
Trace Demon: Kid, despite what you think there’s f*ck all money in this unless you’re in a big fed, and unless the person hiring has had a stroke then they’re not bringing in a nobody. Though, right now I guess anything’s possible.
He looks at me like I’ve run over his dog. I pull out my wallet, sure it’s still in here somewhere… bingo.
Trace Demon: Here-
He shakily takes the card I’ve handed him. Not sure why I’ve still got it but I guess it had a purpose at the end of the day.
Trace Demon: That’s a school run by Wayne McGurk, not too far from here. You want to learn to wrestle? You go there.
Tyler Draven: I don’t have the money to-
Trace Demon: Doesn’t matter. I still own half the place even if I don’t show my face anymore. I’ll make a call, tell him you’re coming, you won’t have to worry about the money. But kid, really, you want to help your sister? Wrestling isn’t the way to do it.
Tyler Draven: It’s the only thing I was ever really good at.
Yeah, I know the feeling.
Trace Demon: Just get yourself sorted out, and don’t go knocking on doors you’re not meant to be knocking on, understand? Next time you might not get off with a couple of bruised ribs.
I’m gone before he can say anything, no time for thanks or watching a grown man cry. Can’t even explain to myself why I cared enough to give him the card. A small balancing of the scales? Why would I give a sh*t about that?
I pull my phone out again, the text still lingering on the screen, and as much as I don’t want to admit it I know exactly why I did it. There’s a chink in my armour, there always has been, a weakness I can’t bury like the rest. The entire reason I’ve bled and hurt for all these years. My entire purpose for being a wrestler in the first place.
Text from Doc Brown: “It’s done”.
The only thing that matters.
Family.
< *** >
Well, can you?
Can you really tell me that you’re ready for this? That you deserve this? I heard those fans chanting, I heard them telling you lies, I saw you eat it up. And you know why you did it Hugh? You know why you believed them? Because you’re just like everyone else. You’re just another guy who thinks that everything he wants is just going to be served up to him on a silver platter. That he doesn’t have to put in the work. So when they chant that you deserve it you believe them like the fool that you are.
See I could sit here and I could mock your name all day. Hugh Jass. I bet there’s a ton of very witty remarks that I could make. And maybe another time I would. Maybe another time I’d come up with some smart remarks, I’d make fun of you a little bit, I’d talk about how I was going to beat you and send you back to little Bonnyville in a bodybag and that’d be it. I’d be content. But I don’t coast along on past victories anymore. And I’m not going to let you off with something oh so simple.
See Hugh I’ve done my research. I’m not taking you lightly. Part of me was happy that a fellow Cancuk got a chance like this. I saw you win and I thought, oh it’s not his fault nobody else turned up. That’s not on him, at least he had the balls to go out there when nobody had a clue who he was. Then I saw you celebrate and I thought… maybe he’s just excited, he’s hit the big time, it’s a big deal, a dream come true. But that’s not it, is it Bonnyville? That’s not who you are. See I’ve done my research and I don’t like what I’ve heard about you.
Little Hugh Jass from little Bonnyville has actually been wrestling for fourteen years. He stepped into that ring when he was sixteen. But tell me people, have you ever heard of Hugh Jass? I mean come on, you’d remember an bunghole with a name like that, wouldn’t you? But have you? Because I haven’t. See I ran the WFWF for two years and that name had never popped up. I spent hours every day scouting talent, looking for the next big thing, scouring message boards, taking recommendations, hitting up every show with any kind of talk behind it… but I never even heard about you.
So why is that Jass? Why’ve you come to the attention of a guy like myself, or anyone else worth a damn? It’s because you’ve got no drive, it’s because you coast along happy to perform in your little bingo halls because you think it makes you a wrestler. You think that you can just have fun and that’s enough, that life’ll work itself out, that everything will be okay as long as you’re having fun. I wouldn’t even be surprised to find out you’ve been on pogey, suckling from the tit of a government too happy to bend over of hoser’s like you.
Thing is you missed something when you were running round that ring, it didn’t quite click for you, did it? What it really means to be win that match and take a spot in this tournament. Go on, think about it, I’ll give you a minute.
It means facing me. See Hugh your time in the WFWF is going to be remarkably short, but people are gonna remember you. Because that’s what people like you want, to be remembered even when they don’t want to put the work in to earn it. But don’t worry, I’m gonna make them remember you for sure. Because I am going to make an example out of you. I am going to show you and every single one of these people what happens when you think you can just coast along doing the bare minimum and it’ll get you where you want to go. Because that is not how the world works. See when you do that, when you stroll through life doing nothing the only thing that’s gonna happen is you’re going to find yourself beneath the boot of someone like me.
You want to believe you deserve this? Go ahead. You want to believe that you can just have fun and everything will work out nicely? Fine. You go on believing that. But it won’t last for long. You’re gonna step into that ring, into my ring, and you are going to realise the truth. That there is no happy ending for people like you. This is no cinderella story Hugh, this is a life lesson that it’s about damn time that every single person realised and accepted. You don’t get what you want by sitting back and hoping and praying and ‘having fun’! You get what you want by standing up and taking it.
And me?
I’m going to take your fun little Bonnyville life… and I’m going to rip it f*cking shreds.
You hear that Jass? The clock just struck midnight.
Your cinderella story is already done.
