Post by Mr. PerpetuaLynch Motion on Oct 1, 2017 13:38:30 GMT -5
Well that went better than I had any reason to expect. Sure the end result wasn’t exactly what I would’ve liked but at the end of the day how many people expected me to be able to hang like I did after the layoff that I had? When all was said and done I took Frank Lynn, a guy that has been a prominent fixture in the WFWF during my sabbatical, to the limit. We had an absolute war and it made me think of one thing when the bell rang. I think I almost missed this. So thank you Frank Lynn, thank you for reminding me of who I am and most importantly what I was before. Next time we meet though, I promise you the result will be much, much different.
After the match with Frank I’ve been in the gym from sun up to sun down because Frank made me realize that for all my talents, a lot of things have changed in the lay of the land in the WFWF. I mean sure the stories all the same, there’s a revolution fighting to change things and tyrannical maniacs sitting at the top trying to force everyone else but them to fight an uphill battle. Last time I was here I strapped a jetpack to my back and launched myself to the top of the mountain to sit beside the maniacs, crushing people under our oppressive boots. This time around though I’ve made the promise to myself that I’m doing everything on my own. Probably a mistake, strength in numbers has always been a thing in the WFWF and forming a sort of alliance is to your benefit. But as the old song goes, I’m here for a good time not a long time. The revolution can fight their war, the maniacs can continue stomping down from their mountain on high. I’m going to make my money, hurt some people and march off into that good night.
But something is different, it almost seems like slowly but surely the balance is tipping in favour of the Revolution for the first time in… I don’t know, possibly ever? The maniacs at the top no longer have a firm grasp on the WFWF’s crown jewel or really any of the other gold. When a psychopath no longer feels like they are in control, their warpath seems to get even wider and the collateral damage becomes more severe.
Speaking of psychopaths, the doors to my gym swing wide open and in strut Justin Tyme’s suit brigade. I can’t help but imagine Justin Tyme’s head on each one of them. It’s enough to almost make me throw up. The smug one, the one I wanted so badly to choke out last time on principal that a high-priced attorney happened to be wandering around downtown Detroit, has yet another joyous communique in his grimy little hands and oh boy I can’t wait to see what sort of pleasant news I receive from the desk of Justin Tyme. I feel like there’s more suits this time around too, word probably got back to Justin about the terseness of our previous exchange and decided the best way to keep things from getting out of hand is to send more spineless slugs. Tactful as ever Justin.
Mr. Crowe, I have an important memo for you from the desk of my client Justin Tyme.
And I’m sure it’s really god damn important that you guys just couldn’t wait to get down here.
It is in regards to your next match in the WFWF.
What did I miss the part where he became the booker of the WFWF?
No, but you forget that he is a very well liked-
Bullcrap.
- WFWF Alumni who has a very vested interest in how the rest of your career goes. After all he brought you into this whole world of professional wrestling. He has a keen eye on how things progress from here for you.
I snatch the letter out of the man’s hand, rip the seal and pull out the letter. Prominently featured at the top it reads:
I almost instinctively crumpled the letter up and threw it in the nearest trash can. But something piqued my interest in the body text. I read further.
Now I crumple up the letter and throw it in the nearest trash can. The lawyer is standing before me with as slimy a smile as I’ve ever seen. This is all one big joke to them. They just love the idea of a guy like me that can beat the crap out of any one of them being legally powerless in the whole thing. But the thing about spineless slugs, they intimidate easily just at the threat of violence. I step as close to the lawyer as possible without physically touching him. I lean in close. The smile disappears.
It would be a wise life choice if the lot of you leave this gym immediately.
To the guy’s credit, he calmly backed up, adjusted his tie and picked up his briefcase. The gang of them head towards the exit. In typical stooge fashion, at the door about twenty feet away they couldn’t resist the urge to get the last word in.
This place could use a coat of paint. Or a wrecking ball.
They push open the door and it slams behind the last one. It’s hard to not let Justin Tyme in your head, it’s the one thing he’s good at. It’s the reason why he’s been around the business for so long. He knows what to say and has perfected the timing of when to say it for maximum aggravation. So I drew Trace Demon in match number two? The flames just keep getting hotter and I’m starting to question how much of me is going to be left by the time I get to match number ten. In any event I guess it’s time to get to work.
====================================================================================
It’s a piece of advice that I’ve repeated to myself over and over again for the past few weeks especially ever since I was forced to come back. In this business you can either make friends or you can make money. I heard that on the first night in from people like Justin Tyme. He had never been in the business of making friends. I thought when I came in here I was going to be the same way. I had friends already back home, I want the money. Money, fame and glory all came to me. I was showered in it. WFWF National Champion twice, WFWF International Champion, WFWF Rookie of the Year. Accolade after accolade was thrust upon me. But I was basking in my glory alone. I had alienated myself from all my friends at home in Detroit, I was essentially a huge rock star, not the Lucas that they knew growing up. Then I met Trace Demon, he was a guy at the top of the mountain and I wanted to be there with him. F*ck my friends in Detroit, I was willing to do anything to prove my loyalty to Trace Demon. I wanted him to stand on my back so he could stand even taller at the top of that mountain.
I wanted so badly to sit under the learning tree of Trace Demon and Drakz, two of the most powerful people the WFWF has ever known and I wanted to be part of that so bad. Trace Demon took me under his wing and began grooming me to be the next biggest superstar in the WFWF. Revolution be damned if Demon and Drakz had a seven-foot wall standing in between them and everyone else. I was where I wanted to be, I had gold around my waist and people I stood beside that I figured I could trust. Some would call those kinds of people “friends.” Suddenly that piece of knowledge that I had repeated in my head since I came into the business that people had burned into my brain seemed completely irrelevant. F*ck them, I’m making money and I’ve made some friends. Everyone else before me must have just been navigating this business wrong.
Naïve moron.
Next thing I knew it, I stepped on a landmine and blew the legs off my career right from under me. I lost a match to Samael Ahriman, losing the WFWF National Championship but through some f*ckery from Drakz and Trace I won it back. They propped me up. That’s one. The New Nebula show rolls around, only a few months after the business with Ahriman, and I get beat by the future number one contender for my WFWF International Championship David Brennan. That’s two. Then when an injury befell Trace before he had the chance to compete for the Tag Team Championships I thought for sure this would be the chance to show him I wasn’t going to strike out. I didn’t even get the chance to show him that though, while I competed in a nothing middle card tag team match, he opted to “cunningly” replace himself with David Brennan, handing Brennan WFWF gold. At Superbrawl, when David Brennan left me to count the lights after taking my WFWF International Championship I was left there wondering where my friends were.
They weren’t waiting for me when I got to the back, wondering what happened or hatching a plan on how to get the title back on to our side. I failed them for a third time and the impenetrable seven-foot wall looked more like a chain link fence. Holes all over my game and nothing that resembles any sort of usefulness to their future.
So, I left. Because in a way they were right, I had a lot of holes to my game. Chief among them was that I was a naïve seven-foot dummy. Trace Demon was no better than Justin Tyme the only difference was that he was better at hiding it than Justin was. Justin was a guy that promised the world but it always seemed to be Trace that would present me with the actual opportunities. But I outlived my usefulness and was dumped to the side. That’s not what friends do. And it was then that the piece of advice started floating in my head again. I’ve made my money, I need to go repair some friendships.
But I’ve been dragged back to this toxic world of mudslinging and backstabbing by a guy that I once trusted my entire livelihood to fight a guy that I once wanted to do everything in my power to keep at the top of the mountain. This world is really freaking weird sometimes when you think about it.
But with all this said it’s really hard to feel much vitriol towards Trace Demon. He never portrayed himself as a friend, it was all in my perception. He’s a businessman in the business of making everyone’s life a living hell. I was fortunate that he never turned that gaze upon me, instead using me as a tool in his fight. Maybe I am just susceptible to brainwashing? Trace plays the game better than anyone that has ever stepped foot in that ring. But now that gaze has wandered over my way and it’s my turn to find out what the fury of Trace Demon feels like.
I choose to believe there is no hatred between the two of us Trace, just a lot of disappointments on both sides. You disappointed in me that your pet project fizzled out into nothing. I’m disappointed in you that you didn’t see more in me than just an expendable resource in your little war. I would have thought an evil genius like you would’ve seen that. But I guess at Uprising I’m just going to have to show you what sort of potential I really had.
=====================================================
OOC: I really wish I could've done more here, this is a glorified participation RP. I had planned on doing more but with last night being a bit of a gong show in my city it took forever to get home from work and all I wanted to do was sleep. Today's my birthday and I thought I could just sit here and write but that didn't happen and I have to work again tonight so it was either ask for an extension or put this up. I keep finding myself in situations where I want rematches with the last two people so I can go full force. I really want to do this again with Trace because as I was writing I kept having ideas but I've gotta leave in like an hour and wouldn't have a chance to flesh them out.[/quote]
After the match with Frank I’ve been in the gym from sun up to sun down because Frank made me realize that for all my talents, a lot of things have changed in the lay of the land in the WFWF. I mean sure the stories all the same, there’s a revolution fighting to change things and tyrannical maniacs sitting at the top trying to force everyone else but them to fight an uphill battle. Last time I was here I strapped a jetpack to my back and launched myself to the top of the mountain to sit beside the maniacs, crushing people under our oppressive boots. This time around though I’ve made the promise to myself that I’m doing everything on my own. Probably a mistake, strength in numbers has always been a thing in the WFWF and forming a sort of alliance is to your benefit. But as the old song goes, I’m here for a good time not a long time. The revolution can fight their war, the maniacs can continue stomping down from their mountain on high. I’m going to make my money, hurt some people and march off into that good night.
But something is different, it almost seems like slowly but surely the balance is tipping in favour of the Revolution for the first time in… I don’t know, possibly ever? The maniacs at the top no longer have a firm grasp on the WFWF’s crown jewel or really any of the other gold. When a psychopath no longer feels like they are in control, their warpath seems to get even wider and the collateral damage becomes more severe.
Speaking of psychopaths, the doors to my gym swing wide open and in strut Justin Tyme’s suit brigade. I can’t help but imagine Justin Tyme’s head on each one of them. It’s enough to almost make me throw up. The smug one, the one I wanted so badly to choke out last time on principal that a high-priced attorney happened to be wandering around downtown Detroit, has yet another joyous communique in his grimy little hands and oh boy I can’t wait to see what sort of pleasant news I receive from the desk of Justin Tyme. I feel like there’s more suits this time around too, word probably got back to Justin about the terseness of our previous exchange and decided the best way to keep things from getting out of hand is to send more spineless slugs. Tactful as ever Justin.
Mr. Crowe, I have an important memo for you from the desk of my client Justin Tyme.
And I’m sure it’s really god damn important that you guys just couldn’t wait to get down here.
It is in regards to your next match in the WFWF.
What did I miss the part where he became the booker of the WFWF?
No, but you forget that he is a very well liked-
Bullcrap.
- WFWF Alumni who has a very vested interest in how the rest of your career goes. After all he brought you into this whole world of professional wrestling. He has a keen eye on how things progress from here for you.
I snatch the letter out of the man’s hand, rip the seal and pull out the letter. Prominently featured at the top it reads:
FROM THE DESK OF JUSTIN TYME
CONGRATULATIONS ON THE TRIUMPHANT RETURN TO THE WFWF LUCAS CROWE!
CONGRATULATIONS ON THE TRIUMPHANT RETURN TO THE WFWF LUCAS CROWE!
I almost instinctively crumpled the letter up and threw it in the nearest trash can. But something piqued my interest in the body text. I read further.
Lucas my boy! I am so happy to see you back inside a WFWF ring with no outside coercion whatsoever. It’s where you belong, you were born to do this. You’ll probably die doing this. Fighting people is in your blood, it’s what I saw in you all those months ago. It’s just too bad that things had to go down the way they did because you could’ve been something.
Unfortunately, though you’ve made it my job to force you into an early retirement. Not the whole take your ball and going home, that’s not what I wanted from you. I want you to be beaten and victimized. I want you to feel the way you made me feel on that night. I want you to be broken. But someone like me could never have a hope in breaking you physically, no I must play a game of wits. Which is why I had a friend helpfully point out the legal loophole that forced you back into the ring.
I am a man of great intellect but there has always been one person in the WFWF I have looked to when I need to resort to a cunning, spiteful idea to show someone the error of their ways. It’s a man that you sat at the right hand of, a man who saw all the potential in the world in you and could have provided you with anything you wanted at the tip of your fingers. But you unraveled and left him high and dry to fight against a rebellion uprising on his own. So, I don’t really have any pull in the WFWF anymore but I did make a request to this individual to make your life a bit of a nightmare. He’s more than happy to oblige. It is therefore with great pleasure that I inform you your second match in the Lucas Crowe return tour is against none other than Trace Demon himself. I feel this is as good a time as any to reiterate something… Sh*tlantic Ocean without a paddle.
Have fun out there Lucas! Break a leg.
Unfortunately, though you’ve made it my job to force you into an early retirement. Not the whole take your ball and going home, that’s not what I wanted from you. I want you to be beaten and victimized. I want you to feel the way you made me feel on that night. I want you to be broken. But someone like me could never have a hope in breaking you physically, no I must play a game of wits. Which is why I had a friend helpfully point out the legal loophole that forced you back into the ring.
I am a man of great intellect but there has always been one person in the WFWF I have looked to when I need to resort to a cunning, spiteful idea to show someone the error of their ways. It’s a man that you sat at the right hand of, a man who saw all the potential in the world in you and could have provided you with anything you wanted at the tip of your fingers. But you unraveled and left him high and dry to fight against a rebellion uprising on his own. So, I don’t really have any pull in the WFWF anymore but I did make a request to this individual to make your life a bit of a nightmare. He’s more than happy to oblige. It is therefore with great pleasure that I inform you your second match in the Lucas Crowe return tour is against none other than Trace Demon himself. I feel this is as good a time as any to reiterate something… Sh*tlantic Ocean without a paddle.
Have fun out there Lucas! Break a leg.
Now I crumple up the letter and throw it in the nearest trash can. The lawyer is standing before me with as slimy a smile as I’ve ever seen. This is all one big joke to them. They just love the idea of a guy like me that can beat the crap out of any one of them being legally powerless in the whole thing. But the thing about spineless slugs, they intimidate easily just at the threat of violence. I step as close to the lawyer as possible without physically touching him. I lean in close. The smile disappears.
It would be a wise life choice if the lot of you leave this gym immediately.
To the guy’s credit, he calmly backed up, adjusted his tie and picked up his briefcase. The gang of them head towards the exit. In typical stooge fashion, at the door about twenty feet away they couldn’t resist the urge to get the last word in.
This place could use a coat of paint. Or a wrecking ball.
They push open the door and it slams behind the last one. It’s hard to not let Justin Tyme in your head, it’s the one thing he’s good at. It’s the reason why he’s been around the business for so long. He knows what to say and has perfected the timing of when to say it for maximum aggravation. So I drew Trace Demon in match number two? The flames just keep getting hotter and I’m starting to question how much of me is going to be left by the time I get to match number ten. In any event I guess it’s time to get to work.
====================================================================================
It’s a piece of advice that I’ve repeated to myself over and over again for the past few weeks especially ever since I was forced to come back. In this business you can either make friends or you can make money. I heard that on the first night in from people like Justin Tyme. He had never been in the business of making friends. I thought when I came in here I was going to be the same way. I had friends already back home, I want the money. Money, fame and glory all came to me. I was showered in it. WFWF National Champion twice, WFWF International Champion, WFWF Rookie of the Year. Accolade after accolade was thrust upon me. But I was basking in my glory alone. I had alienated myself from all my friends at home in Detroit, I was essentially a huge rock star, not the Lucas that they knew growing up. Then I met Trace Demon, he was a guy at the top of the mountain and I wanted to be there with him. F*ck my friends in Detroit, I was willing to do anything to prove my loyalty to Trace Demon. I wanted him to stand on my back so he could stand even taller at the top of that mountain.
I wanted so badly to sit under the learning tree of Trace Demon and Drakz, two of the most powerful people the WFWF has ever known and I wanted to be part of that so bad. Trace Demon took me under his wing and began grooming me to be the next biggest superstar in the WFWF. Revolution be damned if Demon and Drakz had a seven-foot wall standing in between them and everyone else. I was where I wanted to be, I had gold around my waist and people I stood beside that I figured I could trust. Some would call those kinds of people “friends.” Suddenly that piece of knowledge that I had repeated in my head since I came into the business that people had burned into my brain seemed completely irrelevant. F*ck them, I’m making money and I’ve made some friends. Everyone else before me must have just been navigating this business wrong.
Naïve moron.
Next thing I knew it, I stepped on a landmine and blew the legs off my career right from under me. I lost a match to Samael Ahriman, losing the WFWF National Championship but through some f*ckery from Drakz and Trace I won it back. They propped me up. That’s one. The New Nebula show rolls around, only a few months after the business with Ahriman, and I get beat by the future number one contender for my WFWF International Championship David Brennan. That’s two. Then when an injury befell Trace before he had the chance to compete for the Tag Team Championships I thought for sure this would be the chance to show him I wasn’t going to strike out. I didn’t even get the chance to show him that though, while I competed in a nothing middle card tag team match, he opted to “cunningly” replace himself with David Brennan, handing Brennan WFWF gold. At Superbrawl, when David Brennan left me to count the lights after taking my WFWF International Championship I was left there wondering where my friends were.
They weren’t waiting for me when I got to the back, wondering what happened or hatching a plan on how to get the title back on to our side. I failed them for a third time and the impenetrable seven-foot wall looked more like a chain link fence. Holes all over my game and nothing that resembles any sort of usefulness to their future.
So, I left. Because in a way they were right, I had a lot of holes to my game. Chief among them was that I was a naïve seven-foot dummy. Trace Demon was no better than Justin Tyme the only difference was that he was better at hiding it than Justin was. Justin was a guy that promised the world but it always seemed to be Trace that would present me with the actual opportunities. But I outlived my usefulness and was dumped to the side. That’s not what friends do. And it was then that the piece of advice started floating in my head again. I’ve made my money, I need to go repair some friendships.
But I’ve been dragged back to this toxic world of mudslinging and backstabbing by a guy that I once trusted my entire livelihood to fight a guy that I once wanted to do everything in my power to keep at the top of the mountain. This world is really freaking weird sometimes when you think about it.
But with all this said it’s really hard to feel much vitriol towards Trace Demon. He never portrayed himself as a friend, it was all in my perception. He’s a businessman in the business of making everyone’s life a living hell. I was fortunate that he never turned that gaze upon me, instead using me as a tool in his fight. Maybe I am just susceptible to brainwashing? Trace plays the game better than anyone that has ever stepped foot in that ring. But now that gaze has wandered over my way and it’s my turn to find out what the fury of Trace Demon feels like.
I choose to believe there is no hatred between the two of us Trace, just a lot of disappointments on both sides. You disappointed in me that your pet project fizzled out into nothing. I’m disappointed in you that you didn’t see more in me than just an expendable resource in your little war. I would have thought an evil genius like you would’ve seen that. But I guess at Uprising I’m just going to have to show you what sort of potential I really had.
=====================================================
OOC: I really wish I could've done more here, this is a glorified participation RP. I had planned on doing more but with last night being a bit of a gong show in my city it took forever to get home from work and all I wanted to do was sleep. Today's my birthday and I thought I could just sit here and write but that didn't happen and I have to work again tonight so it was either ask for an extension or put this up. I keep finding myself in situations where I want rematches with the last two people so I can go full force. I really want to do this again with Trace because as I was writing I kept having ideas but I've gotta leave in like an hour and wouldn't have a chance to flesh them out.[/quote]