Post by Rated R on Jun 28, 2017 9:14:19 GMT -5
Chapter One
Lila
I’ve never really considered myself a spiteful or vindictive woman. I’ll admit some of my breakups haven’t exactly gone smoothly and I’ve made as much effort making contact with my father in the past fifteen years as he has, but that’s just life. It’s just how it goes. Usually I try to stick to business, leave the personal stuff at home and just do the job I’ve been hired. That’s the reason I get paid big money. Because I’m a professional, even in a place like this, filled with so many disrespectful, testosterone driven idiots. I always stay professional. But not tonight. Tonight I’m happily going to embrace being a complete and utter b*tch, tonight I’m going to take a whole lot of pleasure in the suffering of somebody else.
I shouldn’t even use the term ‘somebody else’, because that implies this thing is human. I know better. There is nothing human about Trace Demon.
Not even close.
Trace Demon is the scourge of humanity, an annoyance you just can’t get rid of no matter how hard you try, a piece of gum stuck to your shoe that won’t scrape away. Trace Demon, in simple terms, is a bloody UTI. Annoying, sometimes painful, and just when you think you’ve got rid of it it comes back twice as bad.
I’d like to qualify that statement with the fact that I’ve never had a UTI. Promise.
Anyway, all of that is why I could barely hide my smile as I waited through the curtain. I kept out of the way when Frank Lynn came through. I’m happy he got his moment, it had to happen at some point right, but his success isn’t the prize here. Oh no, this right here, this is the prize.
"Tough loss out there."
He doesn’t say anything, just stares. At least to start with. His glare’s enough to make me second-guess myself. Have you ever looked in the eyes of a sociopath right before he kills someone, because I imagine this’d be what it looks like.
"F*ck off."
He’s usually better than that. It’s almost taking all the fun out of it. Almost.
"Actually, don’t. That was you, wasn’t it? Future, that bloody delusional idiot, that’s your doing, right?"
"I have no idea what you’re talking about."
And I honestly don’t. The Future turning up was as much a surprise to me as everybody else, but I’m not about to start complaining over somebody dealing Trace a dose of his own medicine. It’s been a long time coming.
"Oh don’t give me that sh*t. Come on, The Future? I mean that guy literally just stood in the goddamn rafters wearing a superhero costume and called me out. If that doesn’t scream of your usual melodramatic bullsh*t then I don’t what does."
Who’s he calling melodramatic?
"So you’re saying you don’t like it when somebody distracts you and causes you to lose? You know how ridiculous that is coming from you, right?"
He doesn’t say anything and… wait, is Trace Demon actually speechless? And that look on his face! My god, this is better than anything I ever could have imagined.
"That right there Trace? That feeling, the one bubbling up in your gut right now? That’s anger. Specifically, anger at being cheated out of a match. Doesn’t feel too good, does it? Now maybe you can understand-"
"Oh shut the f*ck up! God, what is with everyone in my life and ranting about things? Do I have a sign hung around my neck saying please tell me all the boring sh*t going through your head? Because if I do please tell me so I can throw it in a fire. You’re saying that you had nothing to do with Future?"
"As much as I loved seeing you choked out, no, I can’t take credit for that."
"Then why am I stood here wasting my time?"
Is he being serious? Is he seriously walking away from me right now?
"What’s it going to take? What do we have to do to make you see what you’re doing to this company, what you’re doing to the young stars coming through? You’re such a sh*t-heel that you’ve literally got some vigilante superhero nutjob coming after you and you still can’t pause for a second to just maybe consider that this is all because you’re a terrible person."
For a second I think that he’s actually listened to me. For a second I’m the biggest idiot in the whole world, because Trace Demon doesn’t know how to listen to another human being.
"You know why it annoys me so much when people rant at me? Because I don’t care about their opinion, you included. You think I care if you think I’m a bad person? Hell, you think I care if I am a bad person?"
"Well you definitely are."
"Again, who cares? What’s it matter? I’m not going to change. I’m thirty! I’m rich! I’ve already got all the family I need and I’m not looking for friends. I’m happy with the way I’m living my life, so what makes you think I’m going to change? Because you said so? Because some nutjob in a cape is making himself a pain in my ass? Only thing that’s gonna happen is I’m gonna wrap that cape around his throat and squeeze until he’s not a problem anymore."
"That would be murder. You are not going to murder anyone."
He’s not going to murder anyone, right?
"Point is, we may as well stop playing the game where we pretend there’s some humanity left in me, that I can be changed. Because I can’t, I’m the villain, that’s just who I am and I’ve got no interest in **** footing over to the side of light."
"And you called me melodramatic."
He smirks, which unsettles me more than when he looked like he wanted to kill me.
"Part of being a villain, right? A penchant for drama? Point stands Lila, keep out of my business, because nothing you can do is gonna change a thing. I’ve chosen my side, you’ve chosen yours, now all that’s left is for me to… you know what, nah, no cool villain monologue for you, you don’t deserve it. Just do me a favour, when you see your cape-wearing idiot, tell him I’ll see him soon."
I let him go, angry that I let him ruin a moment I’ve been looking forward to since, well, since I met the b*stard. God damn it Trace, why’ve you always got to such a d*ck?
< *** >
Trace Demon Presents
No Heroes Around Here
Chapter Two
What’s It All About
"What the hell happened?"
I lost.
At this point that’s probably become common knowledge. The words spread, and I expect it’s spread fast. The mighty villain Trace Demon lost to the Thunderbird Frank Lynn. As if that humiliation wasn’t bad enough I didn’t just lose, I passed out, after being distracted by a man wearing a mask and a cape no less. Not hard to say that I’ve had better days, but the measure of a man isn’t how he acts when he’s winning, it’s how he reacts to a loss.
I did not react well.
Sure I put on a good act in front of Lila. There was something she had to hear and I didn’t think anger would get it across. Plus I didn’t want to give the smug b*tch the satisfaction, because you can’t tell me that wasn’t what she was looking for, waiting behind the curtain like that. She’s lucky I’m not in the mood for an aggravated assault charge is all I’m saying. Not everyone got off so lucky. I spent the entire drive from the arena in dead silence, blood boiling, running every possible eventuality for that match over in my head, just like I’d done in the days before. There wasn’t a single one where Frank Lynn came out on the winning end. It was an implausible result, a fault in the machine, in nobody’s wildest mind did they call Frank Lynn beating Trace Demon.
But none of that factored in The Future.
That masked, cape wearing, superhero wannabe loon. He wants to literally play the hero he’s deluded himself into thinking he is. Makes sense he’d come after me, the villain of the WFWF. Makes even more sense he’d make sure to get my attention, since that’s so desperately what he wants. Well no problem there, if attentions what he wants then he’s damn well got it. But even as I thought of all that, of the reasons why I lost, none of it mattered over the fact that it had happened. I had lost, to Frank Lynn of all people. That was not meant to happen, it should not have happened, but it already had. So what did I do, what was my grand plan? Well, I decided to hire an excavator, tear down my childhood home and then call my uncle over for a little chat about how I knew he was my biological father.
Did I mention that I didn’t react well to losing?
But can you blame me? It’s like I suddenly realise what everybody was freaking out about when they went to sleep one night and the next morning Donald Trump was their president. Only they didn’t have the luxury of being a rich Canadian. The loss had shaken me, I was struggling to find steady ground and making that phone call to Damon probably wasn’t my best idea, nor was sending Emily out of the house with Eliza so that I could speak to him in private. Of course I brushed it off as just needing a chance to catch up with family, which probably surprised Emily into not asking questions more than anything.
Which is why, when she came home with Emily at her side to find me sat on the floor, among the wreckage of what was once our furniture, she rightly asked the aforementioned question.
"What the hell happened?"
"Why’s everything smashed?"
"Eliza, go upstairs. I assume there’s still an upstairs to go to, right?"
"As far as I know."
"But-"
"Eliza, go."
"Fine."
She walks off up the stairs in a huff, because apparently four is the age where that becomes a thing. I push myself off of the floor, limp into the equally ruined kitchen. Takes me a few minutes to figure out that the limp’s a result of sitting on the leg for too long rather than any actual injury.
"So you’re going to make me ask the question a third time?"
"What was the question again?"
"Trace!"
"Me and Damon had a casual conversation about fatherhood."
"And?"
"We had a disagreement on what it meant. It did not go well. But don’t worry, this all happened after he left. Mostly."
There may have been some crossover.
"So I assume we’re not going to be invited around for another dinner anytime soon?"
"Sometimes it’s best just to realise when something isn’t working and leave it at that. Get on with your life, don’t dwell, other insightful and wise things people say. You can fill in the gaps on that last one."
We sit in silence for a few seconds as I down a glass of water, throat still sore from the copious amounts of shouting I’ve done in the past two hours.
"You going to tell me what actually happened?"
"Honestly? Probably not."
"Figures. I’ll get the dustpan and brush."
Solid ground is harder to find than you’d think, especially when you’ve got so many things shaking the f*cking foundations.
"Is this to do with Frank Lynn?"
"What?"
"Come on, I’m smart enough to recognise that your mood fluctuates depending on whatever crazy sh*t is happening in the ring. You-"
"Don’t say it."
"You lost."
She said it.
"This has nothing to do with Frank Lynn! Why do people suddenly think I’d be rocked by a loss? I’ve lost before! On occasion! Very, very rarely! But still, it’s not a completely foreign f*cking experience even for me!"
"Then what? Because even for you, this isn’t normal. Wrecking other people’s sh*t, sure, but your own, not likely. And we drove past your old house while I was out, the whole thing’s been torn down. That you as well?"
"I own it, I can do what I want!"
"Something’s not right Trace! Something up there in that twisted head of yours is broken. I mean nothing new there, but this, whatever this is, it’s too much. Wrecking the place? Doing god-knows-what to Damon. Seriously, sort your sh*t out. And you know what, clean up your own mess too."
The dustpan and brush clatter at my feet, Emily storming off upstairs. Did I say something? Do something? Where in the world did that outburst come from? She is right about one thing though, I’ve not been myself, or at least not the refined, reigned in version of myself that she’s used to. She’s right that it’s got something to do with the match but just like Lila she’s barking up the wrong tree with all that Frank Lynn sh*t. No, this is all about one man.
This is all about The Future.
< *** >
Chapter Three
Welcome to the Show
The moment he steps into the terminal at Pearson with that small-town grin on his face I can’t help but think that I’ve made a huge mistake. That’s all it takes to remind me just how much I hate other human beings. And no, there’s no qualifiers around that. Other people are the worst, even Tyler Draven here, a kid who I personally introduced into the wrestling school I still somehow co-own with Wayne McGurk. I should probably do something about that soon. Regardless I push down the hatred for his stupid grin and act like a normal person, or as close to one as I dare to be.
"I trust the flight was alright?"
"I was on first class! That was nicer than my apartment!"
Having seen his apartment I find that very believable.
"Alright hot shot, come on."
It took all my willpower to come and meet him in person rather than sending a car. I’ve spent enough time in airports around the world the past ten years to last me a lifetime. It’s why I drive to shows whenever I can. I’d rather the company of my car than all these sweaty tourists. And don’t even get me started on those f*ckers in the private lounge who think they’re gods gift just because they’ve got the money to slip into a posh bar. Tyler looks around in awed silence, the kids never been outside LA, as we head for the car.
"Wait, this is yours?"
"What, you got a problem with my car now?"
"No I just… I thought you’d have a driver or something?"
"F*ck that, pay someone to do something I can do myself when it means having to be in an enclosed space with them? Not a chance. Now get in or I’ll leave you here."
He doesn’t say another word, probably because he believes that I’d actually do it. After all our first two meetings involved me smashing up his car and then his apartment with a baseball bat. Leaving someone in a car park? Small fry in comparison. Somethings on his mind though as we drive back towards the house, which is getting kitted out with all new furniture as we speak as Emily’s request (more like demand). No way the kid stays this quiet this long any other time.
"You worried about your sister?"
Tyler’s sister’s in a wheelchair, serious spine injury from a car crash. I’ve spoken to Doc Brown about surgical options but it turns out nobody’s found a way to safely repair a spine yet. She’s the reason Tyler wants to wrestle, he thinks it’s his only way of making enough money to give her the support she needs. As admirable a reason to hit someone as any I’ve ever heard.
"I’ve never left her alone for longer than a shift before."
"She’ll be fine, Caitlyn’ll take good care of her."
She better do, not like she’s doing much else aside from loitering around my extremely large and expensive house while me and the girls are out of the country.
"I still don’t get what I’m doing out here? One minute you’re barely interested in my training, the next you’re flying me out to watch you wrestle a guy in a cape."
"Beat a guy in a cape, get it right."
"That doesn’t change the fact that you palmed me off on that weirdo trainer at the school and have showed up all of once."
"Once, Johnny’s forgot more about wrestling than you’ll ever be so lucky to know. Two, did I ever imply I was going to be there holding your hand? That seem like my style? Do I suddenly look like your dad or something?"
"I’ll let you know if I ever find out what he looks like."
I can’t stop a chuckle sneaking out.
"Fact is I don’t waste my time unless it’s worth wasting. Until Johnny tells me you’re worth investing more than cash in then I’m not gonna bother."
"Then why fly me out here in the first place? Why set me up with seats for the show?"
"Simple. You ever actually been to a WFWF show?"
"I watch every show!"
"Sitting in front of your laptop ain’t even close to being what I asked kid."
"Well… no, but I’ve always wanted to. I just… didn’t have the money, you know?"
"Figured as much. Look, training’s great, you do as much of it as you want, but training doesn’t make a wrestler. Wrestling makes a wrestler. Being able to do it in front of people? Usually makes a better wrestler. I’m not doing a thing with you until I think you can handle yourself in a building full to the f*cking rafters of people. So you got to actually know what that many people feels like, otherwise you’re not gonna have a clue."
He doesn’t say anything right away, which gives me time to consider my mistake in actually investing in another person in the first place. Like I said, people are the dirt worst. As if to prove me right the kid smirks.
"So you’re actually invested in me then."
"F*ck sake kid, just shut up and enjoy the ride before I push you out of the damn car."
< *** >
Every superhero has an origin story. Now I don’t much care for all this comic book nonsense but what I do know is that if every hero has an origin story, then every villain has one too. Mine’s simple. I got sick and tired of trying to do the right thing when nobody was really listening so I simply decided to do what I wanted. That’s it. Nothing complicated. No murdered parents, no crash-landing from an alien planet, no radioactive f*cking demon, just the simple fact that those idiots that call themselves fans don’t appreciate when somebody is trying to do the right thing. So you know what I said, I said f*ck ‘em. And ever since things have been a whole lot more entertaining around here. See the moment I stopped bothering with a cause and started causing chaos people started paying attention again, they started caring, and not just because they wanted someone to boo, they actually embraced it. They cheer, they get on their feet, they go on their little message boards and talk about how Trace Demon is ‘entertaining’.
Entertaining, it’s a funny word in this business, because that’s what it is, it’s a business. Joe Bishop, Frank Lynn, they like to walk around making out like this is some kind of sport. And in a way they’re right, we’re fighters, competitors, we step into that ring and we beat each other up. For gold, for bragging rights, for the fun of it. If that don’t sound like a sport to you then I don’t know what does. But before you get thinking that Trace Demon is about to embrace their little Wrevolution, I’ve got to remind you all, and that includes our esteemed world champion, that the WFWF is still at heart a business. It’s still about making money, about drawing ratings, about getting people to fill out arenas and buy pay per views. Now, the only thing that can change that is the fans but what Bishop doesn’t want to admit is that the fans are happy with things just the way they are. That’s why ratings spike when I’m on screen, that’s why they buy my merchandise, that’s why they call my entertaining.
Because I am. And that’s what they want.
The people watch me because I put on a damn good show. But it’s not just the wrestling, it’s the antics. It’s the handcuffs and the cheating and the loud mouth I’m using right now. These fans want a spectacle. I mean why else have we got a superhero calling me out from the rafters? And don’t you worry Future, I’m getting to you. Why else has Lila hired a f*cking guy in a dog costume? Now I don’t care how many cheeseburgers that dog can eat, he’s not about the sport, is he Bishop? He’s not about pure technical wrestling, is he Frank? He’s a gimmick, a joke, a good laugh, and that’s why he’s here, that’s why those people will cheer him, because he’s entertaining. And that is all those people want. That is why this show is built around friend vs. friend and a hero vs. a villain.
Because it’s a spectacle.
Now like I said, every hero has an origin story. Future, I don’t know yours, I don’t much care. What I care about is you turning up and calling me out. What I can about is you costing me a match that I should have won with ease. You call yourself a hero? You say you’re targeting me because I’m out of control, because I’m the villain of the WFWF. Well I say you’ve bitten off more than you can chew you delusional old b*stard. Now I know that the WFWF has had it’s fair share of ridiculous, delusional people walk through it’s doors. I was one of them, believe it or not, back when I was taking whatever dulled the pain. But the fact is Future superheroes don’t exist. You don’t have any special powers. You don’t have any extraordinary gifts. You’re an old man trying to relive his glory days but the problem is you’ve picked the wrong man to try and do that with. Because if you think for one second that I am going to show any mercy on you because you’re clearly not right in the head well then I suggest you go and watch what I did to Yukio Blaze.
Because everyone knows that guy was off his meds.
Future, you did a good job, you got your name up in lights again. Better still you proved my point that the only thing these people care about is a spectacle, because that’s what you are, you’re a circus act. But that doesn’t even out to the damage I’m gonna do. Because you’re right, I am the villain of the WFWF. I am the bad guy, I do terrible things. But the fact you know all that means you should have known better. Because I do all of those things to people that have never even bothered me. People who haven’t said a wrong word to me. But you, you cost me a match, you called me out… worst of all, you annoyed me. And as far as I’m concerned there ain’t no greater crime than that. So it looks like I’ll have to play the hero and the villain. First I’ll have to bring you to justice for what you did… and then I’ll have to make you pay for it with interest.
It’s a good thing you like wearing a mask, because by the time I’m done with you Future, people ain’t gonna want to look at that face of yours. And the only thing they’ll remember, the only mark you’ll leave behind this time, is the spectacle of Trace Demon breaking you in half. You will just be the latest spectacle that makes me famous and proves to Joe that nobody is interested in his Wrevolution any further than it being a bit of light, harmless entertainment. And for that, you have my thanks.
Lila
I’ve never really considered myself a spiteful or vindictive woman. I’ll admit some of my breakups haven’t exactly gone smoothly and I’ve made as much effort making contact with my father in the past fifteen years as he has, but that’s just life. It’s just how it goes. Usually I try to stick to business, leave the personal stuff at home and just do the job I’ve been hired. That’s the reason I get paid big money. Because I’m a professional, even in a place like this, filled with so many disrespectful, testosterone driven idiots. I always stay professional. But not tonight. Tonight I’m happily going to embrace being a complete and utter b*tch, tonight I’m going to take a whole lot of pleasure in the suffering of somebody else.
I shouldn’t even use the term ‘somebody else’, because that implies this thing is human. I know better. There is nothing human about Trace Demon.
Not even close.
Trace Demon is the scourge of humanity, an annoyance you just can’t get rid of no matter how hard you try, a piece of gum stuck to your shoe that won’t scrape away. Trace Demon, in simple terms, is a bloody UTI. Annoying, sometimes painful, and just when you think you’ve got rid of it it comes back twice as bad.
I’d like to qualify that statement with the fact that I’ve never had a UTI. Promise.
Anyway, all of that is why I could barely hide my smile as I waited through the curtain. I kept out of the way when Frank Lynn came through. I’m happy he got his moment, it had to happen at some point right, but his success isn’t the prize here. Oh no, this right here, this is the prize.
"Tough loss out there."
He doesn’t say anything, just stares. At least to start with. His glare’s enough to make me second-guess myself. Have you ever looked in the eyes of a sociopath right before he kills someone, because I imagine this’d be what it looks like.
"F*ck off."
He’s usually better than that. It’s almost taking all the fun out of it. Almost.
"Actually, don’t. That was you, wasn’t it? Future, that bloody delusional idiot, that’s your doing, right?"
"I have no idea what you’re talking about."
And I honestly don’t. The Future turning up was as much a surprise to me as everybody else, but I’m not about to start complaining over somebody dealing Trace a dose of his own medicine. It’s been a long time coming.
"Oh don’t give me that sh*t. Come on, The Future? I mean that guy literally just stood in the goddamn rafters wearing a superhero costume and called me out. If that doesn’t scream of your usual melodramatic bullsh*t then I don’t what does."
Who’s he calling melodramatic?
"So you’re saying you don’t like it when somebody distracts you and causes you to lose? You know how ridiculous that is coming from you, right?"
He doesn’t say anything and… wait, is Trace Demon actually speechless? And that look on his face! My god, this is better than anything I ever could have imagined.
"That right there Trace? That feeling, the one bubbling up in your gut right now? That’s anger. Specifically, anger at being cheated out of a match. Doesn’t feel too good, does it? Now maybe you can understand-"
"Oh shut the f*ck up! God, what is with everyone in my life and ranting about things? Do I have a sign hung around my neck saying please tell me all the boring sh*t going through your head? Because if I do please tell me so I can throw it in a fire. You’re saying that you had nothing to do with Future?"
"As much as I loved seeing you choked out, no, I can’t take credit for that."
"Then why am I stood here wasting my time?"
Is he being serious? Is he seriously walking away from me right now?
"What’s it going to take? What do we have to do to make you see what you’re doing to this company, what you’re doing to the young stars coming through? You’re such a sh*t-heel that you’ve literally got some vigilante superhero nutjob coming after you and you still can’t pause for a second to just maybe consider that this is all because you’re a terrible person."
For a second I think that he’s actually listened to me. For a second I’m the biggest idiot in the whole world, because Trace Demon doesn’t know how to listen to another human being.
"You know why it annoys me so much when people rant at me? Because I don’t care about their opinion, you included. You think I care if you think I’m a bad person? Hell, you think I care if I am a bad person?"
"Well you definitely are."
"Again, who cares? What’s it matter? I’m not going to change. I’m thirty! I’m rich! I’ve already got all the family I need and I’m not looking for friends. I’m happy with the way I’m living my life, so what makes you think I’m going to change? Because you said so? Because some nutjob in a cape is making himself a pain in my ass? Only thing that’s gonna happen is I’m gonna wrap that cape around his throat and squeeze until he’s not a problem anymore."
"That would be murder. You are not going to murder anyone."
He’s not going to murder anyone, right?
"Point is, we may as well stop playing the game where we pretend there’s some humanity left in me, that I can be changed. Because I can’t, I’m the villain, that’s just who I am and I’ve got no interest in **** footing over to the side of light."
"And you called me melodramatic."
He smirks, which unsettles me more than when he looked like he wanted to kill me.
"Part of being a villain, right? A penchant for drama? Point stands Lila, keep out of my business, because nothing you can do is gonna change a thing. I’ve chosen my side, you’ve chosen yours, now all that’s left is for me to… you know what, nah, no cool villain monologue for you, you don’t deserve it. Just do me a favour, when you see your cape-wearing idiot, tell him I’ll see him soon."
I let him go, angry that I let him ruin a moment I’ve been looking forward to since, well, since I met the b*stard. God damn it Trace, why’ve you always got to such a d*ck?
< *** >
Trace Demon Presents
No Heroes Around Here
Chapter Two
What’s It All About
"What the hell happened?"
I lost.
At this point that’s probably become common knowledge. The words spread, and I expect it’s spread fast. The mighty villain Trace Demon lost to the Thunderbird Frank Lynn. As if that humiliation wasn’t bad enough I didn’t just lose, I passed out, after being distracted by a man wearing a mask and a cape no less. Not hard to say that I’ve had better days, but the measure of a man isn’t how he acts when he’s winning, it’s how he reacts to a loss.
I did not react well.
Sure I put on a good act in front of Lila. There was something she had to hear and I didn’t think anger would get it across. Plus I didn’t want to give the smug b*tch the satisfaction, because you can’t tell me that wasn’t what she was looking for, waiting behind the curtain like that. She’s lucky I’m not in the mood for an aggravated assault charge is all I’m saying. Not everyone got off so lucky. I spent the entire drive from the arena in dead silence, blood boiling, running every possible eventuality for that match over in my head, just like I’d done in the days before. There wasn’t a single one where Frank Lynn came out on the winning end. It was an implausible result, a fault in the machine, in nobody’s wildest mind did they call Frank Lynn beating Trace Demon.
But none of that factored in The Future.
That masked, cape wearing, superhero wannabe loon. He wants to literally play the hero he’s deluded himself into thinking he is. Makes sense he’d come after me, the villain of the WFWF. Makes even more sense he’d make sure to get my attention, since that’s so desperately what he wants. Well no problem there, if attentions what he wants then he’s damn well got it. But even as I thought of all that, of the reasons why I lost, none of it mattered over the fact that it had happened. I had lost, to Frank Lynn of all people. That was not meant to happen, it should not have happened, but it already had. So what did I do, what was my grand plan? Well, I decided to hire an excavator, tear down my childhood home and then call my uncle over for a little chat about how I knew he was my biological father.
Did I mention that I didn’t react well to losing?
But can you blame me? It’s like I suddenly realise what everybody was freaking out about when they went to sleep one night and the next morning Donald Trump was their president. Only they didn’t have the luxury of being a rich Canadian. The loss had shaken me, I was struggling to find steady ground and making that phone call to Damon probably wasn’t my best idea, nor was sending Emily out of the house with Eliza so that I could speak to him in private. Of course I brushed it off as just needing a chance to catch up with family, which probably surprised Emily into not asking questions more than anything.
Which is why, when she came home with Emily at her side to find me sat on the floor, among the wreckage of what was once our furniture, she rightly asked the aforementioned question.
"What the hell happened?"
"Why’s everything smashed?"
"Eliza, go upstairs. I assume there’s still an upstairs to go to, right?"
"As far as I know."
"But-"
"Eliza, go."
"Fine."
She walks off up the stairs in a huff, because apparently four is the age where that becomes a thing. I push myself off of the floor, limp into the equally ruined kitchen. Takes me a few minutes to figure out that the limp’s a result of sitting on the leg for too long rather than any actual injury.
"So you’re going to make me ask the question a third time?"
"What was the question again?"
"Trace!"
"Me and Damon had a casual conversation about fatherhood."
"And?"
"We had a disagreement on what it meant. It did not go well. But don’t worry, this all happened after he left. Mostly."
There may have been some crossover.
"So I assume we’re not going to be invited around for another dinner anytime soon?"
"Sometimes it’s best just to realise when something isn’t working and leave it at that. Get on with your life, don’t dwell, other insightful and wise things people say. You can fill in the gaps on that last one."
We sit in silence for a few seconds as I down a glass of water, throat still sore from the copious amounts of shouting I’ve done in the past two hours.
"You going to tell me what actually happened?"
"Honestly? Probably not."
"Figures. I’ll get the dustpan and brush."
Solid ground is harder to find than you’d think, especially when you’ve got so many things shaking the f*cking foundations.
"Is this to do with Frank Lynn?"
"What?"
"Come on, I’m smart enough to recognise that your mood fluctuates depending on whatever crazy sh*t is happening in the ring. You-"
"Don’t say it."
"You lost."
She said it.
"This has nothing to do with Frank Lynn! Why do people suddenly think I’d be rocked by a loss? I’ve lost before! On occasion! Very, very rarely! But still, it’s not a completely foreign f*cking experience even for me!"
"Then what? Because even for you, this isn’t normal. Wrecking other people’s sh*t, sure, but your own, not likely. And we drove past your old house while I was out, the whole thing’s been torn down. That you as well?"
"I own it, I can do what I want!"
"Something’s not right Trace! Something up there in that twisted head of yours is broken. I mean nothing new there, but this, whatever this is, it’s too much. Wrecking the place? Doing god-knows-what to Damon. Seriously, sort your sh*t out. And you know what, clean up your own mess too."
The dustpan and brush clatter at my feet, Emily storming off upstairs. Did I say something? Do something? Where in the world did that outburst come from? She is right about one thing though, I’ve not been myself, or at least not the refined, reigned in version of myself that she’s used to. She’s right that it’s got something to do with the match but just like Lila she’s barking up the wrong tree with all that Frank Lynn sh*t. No, this is all about one man.
This is all about The Future.
< *** >
Chapter Three
Welcome to the Show
The moment he steps into the terminal at Pearson with that small-town grin on his face I can’t help but think that I’ve made a huge mistake. That’s all it takes to remind me just how much I hate other human beings. And no, there’s no qualifiers around that. Other people are the worst, even Tyler Draven here, a kid who I personally introduced into the wrestling school I still somehow co-own with Wayne McGurk. I should probably do something about that soon. Regardless I push down the hatred for his stupid grin and act like a normal person, or as close to one as I dare to be.
"I trust the flight was alright?"
"I was on first class! That was nicer than my apartment!"
Having seen his apartment I find that very believable.
"Alright hot shot, come on."
It took all my willpower to come and meet him in person rather than sending a car. I’ve spent enough time in airports around the world the past ten years to last me a lifetime. It’s why I drive to shows whenever I can. I’d rather the company of my car than all these sweaty tourists. And don’t even get me started on those f*ckers in the private lounge who think they’re gods gift just because they’ve got the money to slip into a posh bar. Tyler looks around in awed silence, the kids never been outside LA, as we head for the car.
"Wait, this is yours?"
"What, you got a problem with my car now?"
"No I just… I thought you’d have a driver or something?"
"F*ck that, pay someone to do something I can do myself when it means having to be in an enclosed space with them? Not a chance. Now get in or I’ll leave you here."
He doesn’t say another word, probably because he believes that I’d actually do it. After all our first two meetings involved me smashing up his car and then his apartment with a baseball bat. Leaving someone in a car park? Small fry in comparison. Somethings on his mind though as we drive back towards the house, which is getting kitted out with all new furniture as we speak as Emily’s request (more like demand). No way the kid stays this quiet this long any other time.
"You worried about your sister?"
Tyler’s sister’s in a wheelchair, serious spine injury from a car crash. I’ve spoken to Doc Brown about surgical options but it turns out nobody’s found a way to safely repair a spine yet. She’s the reason Tyler wants to wrestle, he thinks it’s his only way of making enough money to give her the support she needs. As admirable a reason to hit someone as any I’ve ever heard.
"I’ve never left her alone for longer than a shift before."
"She’ll be fine, Caitlyn’ll take good care of her."
She better do, not like she’s doing much else aside from loitering around my extremely large and expensive house while me and the girls are out of the country.
"I still don’t get what I’m doing out here? One minute you’re barely interested in my training, the next you’re flying me out to watch you wrestle a guy in a cape."
"Beat a guy in a cape, get it right."
"That doesn’t change the fact that you palmed me off on that weirdo trainer at the school and have showed up all of once."
"Once, Johnny’s forgot more about wrestling than you’ll ever be so lucky to know. Two, did I ever imply I was going to be there holding your hand? That seem like my style? Do I suddenly look like your dad or something?"
"I’ll let you know if I ever find out what he looks like."
I can’t stop a chuckle sneaking out.
"Fact is I don’t waste my time unless it’s worth wasting. Until Johnny tells me you’re worth investing more than cash in then I’m not gonna bother."
"Then why fly me out here in the first place? Why set me up with seats for the show?"
"Simple. You ever actually been to a WFWF show?"
"I watch every show!"
"Sitting in front of your laptop ain’t even close to being what I asked kid."
"Well… no, but I’ve always wanted to. I just… didn’t have the money, you know?"
"Figured as much. Look, training’s great, you do as much of it as you want, but training doesn’t make a wrestler. Wrestling makes a wrestler. Being able to do it in front of people? Usually makes a better wrestler. I’m not doing a thing with you until I think you can handle yourself in a building full to the f*cking rafters of people. So you got to actually know what that many people feels like, otherwise you’re not gonna have a clue."
He doesn’t say anything right away, which gives me time to consider my mistake in actually investing in another person in the first place. Like I said, people are the dirt worst. As if to prove me right the kid smirks.
"So you’re actually invested in me then."
"F*ck sake kid, just shut up and enjoy the ride before I push you out of the damn car."
< *** >
Every superhero has an origin story. Now I don’t much care for all this comic book nonsense but what I do know is that if every hero has an origin story, then every villain has one too. Mine’s simple. I got sick and tired of trying to do the right thing when nobody was really listening so I simply decided to do what I wanted. That’s it. Nothing complicated. No murdered parents, no crash-landing from an alien planet, no radioactive f*cking demon, just the simple fact that those idiots that call themselves fans don’t appreciate when somebody is trying to do the right thing. So you know what I said, I said f*ck ‘em. And ever since things have been a whole lot more entertaining around here. See the moment I stopped bothering with a cause and started causing chaos people started paying attention again, they started caring, and not just because they wanted someone to boo, they actually embraced it. They cheer, they get on their feet, they go on their little message boards and talk about how Trace Demon is ‘entertaining’.
Entertaining, it’s a funny word in this business, because that’s what it is, it’s a business. Joe Bishop, Frank Lynn, they like to walk around making out like this is some kind of sport. And in a way they’re right, we’re fighters, competitors, we step into that ring and we beat each other up. For gold, for bragging rights, for the fun of it. If that don’t sound like a sport to you then I don’t know what does. But before you get thinking that Trace Demon is about to embrace their little Wrevolution, I’ve got to remind you all, and that includes our esteemed world champion, that the WFWF is still at heart a business. It’s still about making money, about drawing ratings, about getting people to fill out arenas and buy pay per views. Now, the only thing that can change that is the fans but what Bishop doesn’t want to admit is that the fans are happy with things just the way they are. That’s why ratings spike when I’m on screen, that’s why they buy my merchandise, that’s why they call my entertaining.
Because I am. And that’s what they want.
The people watch me because I put on a damn good show. But it’s not just the wrestling, it’s the antics. It’s the handcuffs and the cheating and the loud mouth I’m using right now. These fans want a spectacle. I mean why else have we got a superhero calling me out from the rafters? And don’t you worry Future, I’m getting to you. Why else has Lila hired a f*cking guy in a dog costume? Now I don’t care how many cheeseburgers that dog can eat, he’s not about the sport, is he Bishop? He’s not about pure technical wrestling, is he Frank? He’s a gimmick, a joke, a good laugh, and that’s why he’s here, that’s why those people will cheer him, because he’s entertaining. And that is all those people want. That is why this show is built around friend vs. friend and a hero vs. a villain.
Because it’s a spectacle.
Now like I said, every hero has an origin story. Future, I don’t know yours, I don’t much care. What I care about is you turning up and calling me out. What I can about is you costing me a match that I should have won with ease. You call yourself a hero? You say you’re targeting me because I’m out of control, because I’m the villain of the WFWF. Well I say you’ve bitten off more than you can chew you delusional old b*stard. Now I know that the WFWF has had it’s fair share of ridiculous, delusional people walk through it’s doors. I was one of them, believe it or not, back when I was taking whatever dulled the pain. But the fact is Future superheroes don’t exist. You don’t have any special powers. You don’t have any extraordinary gifts. You’re an old man trying to relive his glory days but the problem is you’ve picked the wrong man to try and do that with. Because if you think for one second that I am going to show any mercy on you because you’re clearly not right in the head well then I suggest you go and watch what I did to Yukio Blaze.
Because everyone knows that guy was off his meds.
Future, you did a good job, you got your name up in lights again. Better still you proved my point that the only thing these people care about is a spectacle, because that’s what you are, you’re a circus act. But that doesn’t even out to the damage I’m gonna do. Because you’re right, I am the villain of the WFWF. I am the bad guy, I do terrible things. But the fact you know all that means you should have known better. Because I do all of those things to people that have never even bothered me. People who haven’t said a wrong word to me. But you, you cost me a match, you called me out… worst of all, you annoyed me. And as far as I’m concerned there ain’t no greater crime than that. So it looks like I’ll have to play the hero and the villain. First I’ll have to bring you to justice for what you did… and then I’ll have to make you pay for it with interest.
It’s a good thing you like wearing a mask, because by the time I’m done with you Future, people ain’t gonna want to look at that face of yours. And the only thing they’ll remember, the only mark you’ll leave behind this time, is the spectacle of Trace Demon breaking you in half. You will just be the latest spectacle that makes me famous and proves to Joe that nobody is interested in his Wrevolution any further than it being a bit of light, harmless entertainment. And for that, you have my thanks.