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Post by Rated R on Sept 3, 2018 14:17:19 GMT -5
I'm not in love with this, but that's partially because there was another scene in here originally but The Violent Gentleman thankfully gave me the heads up that he wouldn't be showing so I cut out a few things that I'm going to keep for a later, competitive piece and took out a chunk of my monologue that I'll also be using elsewhere.
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Post by Rated R on Sept 3, 2018 14:11:59 GMT -5
Tyler Draven Presents The In-Between
A Long Vacation
"Are you suspending me?"
A week after my last match. The WFWF Headquarters in Los Angeles.. Currently present, yours truly, Lila Sleater and Jason Anders.
It is not going well.
"We’re not suspending you Tyler…"
"Then what the f*** would you call it?"
"Tyler this is exactly the issue…"
"Oh f*** off Anders! No wonder Trace spoke about you like he wanted to rip your vocal chords out!"
"Tyler!"
Trying to control my anger, my rage, but it’s bubbling, right at the surface, has been for weeks now,. ever since that letter, ever since Trace’s parting words, running around in my mind like a god damn cancer.
You’re the monster now.
"I don’t know what’s happened but the past few weeks you’ve become a different person and this… well this is the final straw."
She slides a sheet of paper across to me, like she thinks she’s some shady business woman in an eighties movie. Or any politician nowadays. Not sure if the fact it’s on WFWF-headed paper makes it tackier or not. I skim my eyes over the contents and feel myself sink in my seat.
"You see how awkward a position this puts me in."
It’s an official complaint, detailing an incident that went down a month ago. An incident where I turned up at my uncle and aunt’s house demanding to see my sister in a… well, let’s just say aggressive manner. The report, made by my f*****g uncle of all people, says I turned up at his door, half-cut, screaming and shouting about seeing her, about how they were keeping me out of her life and probably Yellow Wallpapering her.
Never should have read that story. F**k Charlotte Perkins Gilman.
"You gonna give me the chance to explain myself, or we just taking things like this as gospel now?"
"Are you telling me this didn’t happen?"
"I’m telling you it didn’t happen how he said it happened."
It happened exactly how he said it happened.
"But it did happen?"
"It could have possibly happened. But-"
"No, no but’s, no explanations, I’m not interested. Christ Tyler, this is exactly what I’m talking about, this attitude, this shift. You’re a WFWF wrestler now, everything you do reflects on the company."
"You mean it reflects on you."
"Of course it reflects on me! I’m the one who gave you that contract, I’m the one who brought you in and supported you when the whole world thought you were just another Trace Demon wannabe. I supported you because I thought you wanted to be more than that!"
She’s frustrated, and I get it, honestly, I do. She bought into something that might not exist, but don’t go deluding yourself, she only did it because she thought she’d get something out of it. Only reason anyone does anything around here.
"It’s not just that. Anders tells me your general attitude over the past few weeks has deteriorated considerably. You’ve been drinking-"
"Drinking? Have you met half your roster?"
Drakz, Michael Kyzer, David Brennan, Phillip Schneider, Trace Demon, I mean I could basically name any former WFWF World Heavyweight Champion and you’d find a litany of druggies, alcoholics and at least one rapist. And she’s pulling me up because I’ve been drinking?
"They’re not the point here, you’re the point. I saw something in you Tyler, what you did to Trace… you did the right thing even though it was difficult, even though it hurt you to do it. But you did it because it was right. You could be something different for this company, something good, but the way you’ve been acting, the drinking, the attitude, it’s not what we need from you."
"I told you when this started that I wasn’t going to be some role model, some perfect example of what you want a WFWF wrestler to be. If that’s what you want then you’ve got the wrong guy."
"I don’t think I have. I think you’re exactly who I need you to be, you’re just a little rough around the edges. That’s the exact reason I assigned Anders to you."
Who lot of good the guy’s been. Only interested in the payslip so he can pay off his alimony and look after his daughter. Fair enough reasons to do a job, obviously, but don’t go kidding me that he’s in it for anyone but himself.
"Maybe we let you get into the ring too early after what happened with Trace, maybe it was too soon. Take a few shows off, get your head together and figure out what it is you want."
"Sounds an awful lot like a suspension to me."
"Whatever you want to call it Tyler, just take the time off and get your head on straight, because that’s the only way I convinced your uncle not to press charges against you and just deal with this through our own formal channels. Come back and remember the opportunity you’ve been given, remember the position your in and remember who it is that gave it to you. Get whatever this is out of your system, understand?"
"I understand."
More than you realise…
< *** >
Pillow Talk
I’ve been seeing this girl recently. And by recently I mean about six weeks. And by seeing I mean f*****g. Arisa Itsuki. She’s not my usual type, if I even have a type. Is ‘anyone willing to listen to you moan about your life’ a type? But she is a much needed distraction from everything going on, something I desperately need right now.
And yes, I’m telling you all this just to explain why I was lying naked next to a twenty year old asian girl when I received an alert from the WFWF app.
"They’re doing a f*****g title tournament without me!"
"A world title tournament?"
"No."
"An International title tournament?
"No."
"Then what title?"
"They’ve not announced what it’s called yet."
She glances at me like my whole complaint makes no sense, but the fact I’ve won three out of three and I’m not even being included in this thing? That’s bull. f***, I’ve still not been booked for a show since that meeting with Lila.
"When did you know so much about the titles anyway?"
"Well when someone complains about something as much as you do you pick a few things up. You know you’re much more fun to be around when you’re talking about literally anything else than fighting sweaty men."
And here I was thinking Asians were meant to be respectful. Must be drowned out by the fact she was raised in Michigan.
"You don’t get it…"
"What, that you’re all hung up on what everyone else thinks of you? My family threatened to disown me if I came out to Los Angeles, but here I am, here, with you, pretty much going against everything they would have wanted for me. So don’t act like I wouldn’t get it, bakayarou."
"Sorry, I’m just… I’m p****d off! I did some messed up stuff to even get a chance to work for the WFWF, and I faced the consequences. And now it’s like I’m just being brushed to the side because keeping me around isn’t convenient or something. It’s messed up."
"Life’s messed up, you deal with it."
She gets out of bed, starts getting dressed.
"Where are you going?"
"I’ve got more interesting things to do that lie here and listen to you whine. I like you Tyler, but next time you call me make sure you’re not still obsessing over something that you haven’t done kuso to deal with. You don’t want to be some weird business woman’s pet project? Then don’t, but know who you want to be, because I’m not wasting my time with some lost little boy."
Minutes later I’m alone, which is the one thing I’ve been trying to avoid for months. I don’t like my own company, because Arisa is right, I don’t know what I want to be, I don’t even know who I am. I keep saying I bashed Trace’s brains in because it was the right thing to do, and I still believe that, but a part of me liked it, a part of me wanted to do it so I could get a chance in that ring. And the moment I start thinking that I end up in a black hole inside my own mind, wondering who the hell I’m meant to be.
And then a memory surfaces, bubbles up to the top of the mess of thoughts floating around, and things start to make sense a little.
I lost my virginity when I was fourteen, with this girl I’d known since first grade. We’d been drinking and we ended up fumbling our way into each others pants. Didn’t last long, and I couldn’t even tell you if it was good for her, because c’mon, I was fourteen and I was from this respectable suburban family who don’t talk about sex. Not to mention she wasn’t a virgin and I was, which meant in my mind she already knew what good sex felt like.
When we were lying there, my head spinning, she started crying. Let me tell you I didn’t know the first thing to do with that other than get extremely defensive, because obviously the first thing that came to my head was it was so bad it had brought the girl to tears. But no, turned out that the reason this girl wasn’t a virgin was because her dad had a thing for sneaking into her room at night, and that her mom knew all about it and didn’t do a thing.
People make me sick.
So I comfort her, reassure her the best I can, tell her all these lies about how it’ll be alright and that she just needs to tell someone who’ll actually do something about it, promise her I won’t say anything until she’s ready. Then the next night, when I know she and her family are gonna be out, I march round there with a mask over my face because I think I’m tough and I take my dad’s baseball bat to her dad’s car. Only he’s not out with them, and he hears this going down and comes marching out the house planning to kick the holy hell out of me. Now I could’ve run, because there was no way he’d know it was me and because even back then I could sprint faster than anybody else I knew. But I didn’t.
Instead I swung the bat right at his face. Hit him right in the jaw, took a few teeth out. And I kept swinging. Think it was four shots, in total, but I couldn’t tell you for sure. I left him there, in a puddle of blood and bone, because I thought he deserved it. Didn’t think of the fact that his wife, his daughter, people he’d messed up so much, would find him. Didn’t think of the consequences of what I did, of what might happen to me. Because he deserved it, and I’d done the right thing, and I thought everyone else would recognise that.
Nobody ever had to. He went to the police, and sooner or late I think they’d have figured out it was me. But then his daughter told them what he was, what he’d done to her, and suddenly everyone forgot about the fact he’d just been beaten half to death by a fourteen year old with a baseball bat. And why?
Because he deserved it. Because I’d done the right thing, even though it was a f****d up thing to do.
I’ve never told anybody what I’ve done, and I never will, because I’m not stupid enough to think I’m above the law just because I did something right.
But sometimes its important to remind myself that sometimes you have to face up to the difficult truth that the right thing isn’t always easy. Sometimes the right thing is difficult, sometimes the right thing is messed up, but I’m the kind of person who will do it, regardless. I beat Trace’s brains in because nobody else would. I beat that girls dad’s brains in because I didn’t want her to eventually get his blood on her hands.
Leaving my sister with my uncle and aunt, that’s the right thing to do, for now, even if it hurts to be alone, to not be wanted my own flesh and blood even when I’m doing all this for her. Holding my anger inside, keeping my attitude under control, that’s the right thing to do, even if it eats me up inside. Going along with what Lila wants, that’s the right thing to do, because it lets me do something I couldn’t any other way.
I pick up the phone and dial.
"Anders… yeah, I’m ready to come back… yeah, I’ve got my head on straight… promise."
Demons honour.
< *** >
"Did you miss me? After all, three shows in this business may as well be an eternity, especially for someone like me. See I was flying high, three wins from three matches and then, just like that, I’m gone, vanished, out of sight, out of mind. Not quite though, right? Because I’m not that easy to forget. After all, I’m the man that vanquished Trace Demon. That’s why you remember me, isn’t it? Not because I’ve won my first three matches, not because I’ve done it fair and square, but because of the effects of my world stage debut". Come on, we all know what you’re talking about… seems that’s all anybody wants to talk about. Well I’m done talking about Trace Demon. I’m here to talk about the here and now, I’m here to talk about Sean Casey.
See Sean, you got an opportunity that realistically should’ve been mine. If I hadn’t been out of action so to speak then you better damn believe that I would’ve been in the World Domination Tournament. You know it and I know it. Further still, if I’d been in it, you wouldn’t have been. See you were just taking up my spot, that’s the only reason you were there, it’s the only reason you were ever asked back. And what did you go and do? What happened with my spot? You wasted it. You lost to Joe Bishop’s trainee. You lost to a guy called Shuggy. Come on man, could that be any more humiliating if you tried?
Now don’t get me wrong, I’ve seen you in action before and I know what you can bring to that ring, so I’m not underestimating you, but you better believe that I’m pretty damn p****d off that my spot in the tournament got wasted on somebody like you. Somebody who disappeared of his own accord and then came back and stepped right into the shoes of somebody who actually deserved it. And then there’s me, somebody who does the right thing, fights the good fight no matter how hard it is, and I get sent on a long vacation and left out of what could have been the most important moment of my career. But we can’t dwell on the past, we can’t look backwards, we can only move on. And that’s exactly what I’m gonna do, at your expense.
See Sean I’m coming into this match with more to prove than ever. To those fans, to Lila Sleater, to the WFWF roster and to myself, and right now you’re standing in my way. As far as I’m concerned you’ve taken my spot once and I’m not gonna let it happen again, which means I’ve got to take you out of the equation. Which means beating you so badly that nobody will ever think of putting us even close to the same par again. So Sean, you call yourself the Violent Gentleman, well there’s nothing gentlemanly about what I’m gonna do to you.
The violent bit though? Well, I think we both know what way that’s gonna go, and it sure as hell ain’t in your favour.
< *** >
P.S.
Months ago, mere weeks after Trace Demon was put into a coma by the actions of Tyler Draven. Elinor Nix sits in her office, staring down at a box that was recently delivered, addressed to her in Trace Demon’s unmistakable scrawl. Inside is a folder, as well as letters addressed to numerous people. Her eyes were drawn immediately to one with her own name on it. The letter within, handwritten, was again clearly written by Trace.
Elinor, if you’re reading this then it means everything I expected to happen has happened. Either I’ve taken myself off the grid and you’re wondering where the hell I am or I’m indisposed, preferably not permanently or all this would have been for nothing. Cryptic, I know, but would you expect anything less?
In this box you’ll find letters. I need you to deliver them, personally. Consider it my last will and testament, unless I’m actually dead in which case hide the bodies and bury the gold. You’re the only person I trust to do this, because you’re the only one I trust not to make things personal. You’re about the business, and I respect that more than you knew. Look at me, getting all mushy, I’d be rolling in my grave, unless I’m in one, in which case you should have cremated me.
The only exception is Tyler. There’s two letters here, and I need you to decide when to give them to him. You’ll know why when you read the enclosed file. The first one should be given to him sometime in the new few months, once he’s got a few wins under his belt. I want to make sure he’s riding a high before we bring him back down to Earth. You’ll know the moment.
The second… well, that’s my masterpiece. I want you to read the file, then open Tyler’s second letter and read it. Then you’ll know exactly when to give it to him. Everything’s been building to this, everything I’ve done for the past year, and it only works if you help me. I know you will, you never could resist a challenge.
Elinor put the letter down, not bothering to read the rest. She’d do so later, when she had her head wrapped around all this. Instead she help up the two letters addressed to Tyler Draven and wondered only one thing.
What the hell was Trace Demon up to now?
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Post by Rated R on Aug 21, 2018 16:00:35 GMT -5
If you've got a spot on the card then I'm ready to get back into it.
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Post by Rated R on Aug 18, 2018 7:24:53 GMT -5
All of this talk about who's the best, but no one is talking about Trace Demon. GOAT. Because even Rated R knows I'm better I think you have me confused with someone with a much smaller ego.
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Post by Rated R on Jul 27, 2018 0:13:50 GMT -5
Christ! I grew up in the 70s and I didn't get that one. Granted I was more into Black Sabbath and other heavy metal back then but that is no excuse. We moved back to New England back in '94. My mom gave us a bit of time to adjust before going back to school, so I was around as she adjusted, deciding upon, among other things, her new go-to radio station. Do you remember Eagle 93.7? All oldies, all the time, and man, I didn't know it at the time, but they went deep with some of those cuts. Case in point? Paper Lace. My family weren't exactly renowned for their emotional availability growing up, which is a whole other story, but the one thing my Mum did share with me was her love of 70's and 80's music, and it's one of the few things that have stuck with me from back then.
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Post by Rated R on Jul 26, 2018 16:28:34 GMT -5
The fact nobody mentioned Paper Lace kicking off a WFWF show has highly disappointed me.
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Post by Rated R on Jun 27, 2018 16:48:58 GMT -5
I've got a massive deadline for work coming up that's going to keep me busy until the second week of July and then after that I'm moving into a new flat with the girlfriend so I think that's me out until at least mid-July sorry guys.
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Post by Rated R on Jun 3, 2018 12:53:36 GMT -5
No match for me this time but I’ll put together something for the show.
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Post by Rated R on May 20, 2018 10:53:34 GMT -5
Tyler Draven Presents Monsters HerThis is f*cking creepy. I am being f*cking creepy. Should probably just drive away, get the hell out of dodge before this whole thing gets messed up. But no, I’m sat here waiting to see her. Basically straight up stalking. Not even basically, I am. I’m stalking her. But I can’t leave without seeing her. I need to know she’s coping, that I haven’t torn her apart. Just because I did the right thing it doesn’t mean people didn’t get hurt because of me. Because of what I did. I just need to know that she’s alright, that they both are. That’s why I’m parked outside Trace Demon’s place. This god damned mansion of his. I need to know that Emily is getting by with Trace out of the picture. So that’s why I’m being creepy as f*ck, waiting to get some glimpse of her. I’ve been parked here for something like two hours now. I know she’s in there, any minute now she should be taking Emily to school. I’m sure today was always her day to drop her off. Not that she had to, Trace had the maid for sh*t like that, but Emily liked to do it once a week. Said it made her feel close to Eliza. That it stopped her getting too sucked up into the extravagance Trace surrounded himself with. Not that he cared about it. The guy was simple, didn’t really care about what he had. Hard to believe that I guess when you’re talking about a guy as rich as Trace was, a guy who owned multiple businesses and who knows what else, but you never really heard him talk about them, or all the things he could buy. Think he made the money just for the things he could do with it, so he could look after his family, buy them all that fancy sh*t, not himself. Listen to me, almost made it sound like that piece of sh*t was a normal human being, a guy who wasn’t completely obsessed with his own glory. Sure, Trace didn’t fixate on money, but power and attention? A completely different story there. I glance down at my bag stuffed at the foot of the passengers seat. That letter’s in there, the one Elinor gave me. She said Trace wrote it before… well, y’know. Doesn’t make sense to me. You could say a lot of things about him but Trace wasn’t sentimental and he sure as hell wasn’t the letter writing type. Whatever’s in there I’m sure he wrote it just to mess with me, but what the hell did he say? And why haven’t I been able to open it yet? Guilt. No, I’m not guilty of anything. I did the right thing when others couldn’t. And sure, it’s tearing me up, has been since the moment I took the bat to his skull, but somebody had to stop him. I made that sacrifice so nobody else would have to. I’ve got nothing to feel guilty about. So why haven’t I opened the letter, and why do I feel responsible for checking in on Emily when she really never meant anything to me. She didn’t even like me all that much. Or at all, probably not at all. It’s another ten minutes before the door opens. I see it from where I’m parked and instantly drop low in my seat. Emily steps out, Eliza’s hand in hers, guiding her down the steps. She looks fine. Just… fine. Like nothing’s happened. But she’s gonna look like that, always was, putting on a facade for Eliza, that little girl who probably doesn’t understand what happened to her father, or why some guy would take him away from her. F*ck. I don’t know what I was thinking, like I could just turn up here, see her, make sure she was okay as if it matters, as if it would change anything. I took away Emily’s brother, Eliza’s father. I did that, me. For the right reasons? Sure, but that doesn’t change the consequences. Wait, is she looking this way? She definitely is. F*ck! Sh*t! crap! F*cking hell! Drive! Get the f*ck out of here now! Wait I’m the one driving! In gear, foot on the pedal, getting the hell out of dodge… What the f*ck was I thinking? < *** > Who’s Side Are You On"Now I don’t want you freaking out over this match.""What?""This match, having to fight a girl.""Why would I… what? Because she’s a girl? Get the f*ck out of here Anders, why would that matter?""I mean, plenty of people don’t like laying their hands on a woman. To be honest that’s usually a good thought process to have.""Yeah, in the real world, not in the f*cking ring. What d’you think I’m gonna do, stand there and let someone kick the sh*t out of me because she’s not got a c*ck? Are you mental? The moment you sign up to be a wrestler it doesn’t matter what is or isn’t swinging between your legs, your just the same as everyone else.""Trace teach you that one?""No, common f*cking sense taught me that one.""Mr. Draven, Mr. Anders, Ms. Sleater will see you now."After one asinine conversation I get the feeling I’m about to walk into another. Course I’ve been getting that feeling ever since Lila asked me to come to WFWF headquarters. Not much reason for me to be here given I’ve only won two matches unless it’s something big, and I’ve got a feeling I know exactly what it is. "Tyler, Jason, thanks for coming in. Take a seat."Lila Sleater’s office is cold. Not literally, because f*ck me if she doesn’t have the heat cranked up. Nah, it’s very impersonal, a bit like Lila. Big desk, uncomfortable looking seats, everything in its place. Not my idea of a comfortable workplace environment, but then I get paid to hit people, so what do I know. "Would either of you like a drink? Water? Something stronger?""Not really a big drinker. I’d just like to get this over with."She doesn’t even give Anders a chance to answer. Looking at his disappointed face is the first time I’ve cracked a smile all day. "Quite. Well, let’s just get on with this, shall we? I’m assuming you know why I asked you here?""Gonna guess it’s got something to do with an airport."She nods. Not like it took rocket science to figure that one out though. Before flying out to the last show I had a bit of a… run in, let’s say, with some kids mom. She was ranting about her I was a bad influence, but c’mon now, she’s the one letting her kid watch this sh*t. I don’t have anything to feel bad about there. "Correct. Tyler, I know this whole world is new to you, that you’re not used to being in the public eye, to tailoring your actions to the knowledge that you’re constantly being watched, but that’s part of being a WFWF competitor, do you understand?""You had this conversation with anyone else?""Tyler! Sorry Lila, he doesn’t get that this is a serious situation.""Nah, I get it, just think this whole thing is a little ridiculous is all.""Tyler you can’t-""Let him speak Jason."I can feel Anders’ eyes drilling into the side of my head, but I don’t care. Lila said she brought him in to ‘guide me’ as I start out with the WFWF, but really he’s just there to keep an eye on me. I’m not quite sure why Lila would care enough for that, but there’s something going on here, just haven’t got it figured out yet. "I get it, what I did, screaming at that woman, it’s not a good look for the WFWF. Fine, I’ll hold my hands up to that, I blew up when I should’ve held my tongue. But you’re calling me out over it? While there’s people like Kyzer running around doing whatever he wants? People like Lynn using his one night of glory to steal a title? When there were people like Trace and Schneider and Drakz and hell, name any big bad of the past ten years. Did they ever get this talking to, or is it just because I’m not big enough yet to get to do whatever I want?"It’s awkwardly silent. If Anders was any more of a cartoon caricature of a human being his teeth would be physically chattering right now from the nerves. Then Lila smiles and he physically exhales. Guy wouldn’t be out of place on… sh*t, I don’t know any kids shows. "It’s that kind of thing I want to change Tyler. People need to be responsible for their actions in and outside of the ring. If they’re not then the WFWF becomes lawless, a playground for the sick and twisted, for people like Trace Demon. Don’t you think the WFWF be a better place without people like that?"If this goes anything like the last time she spoke like this I’d better get hiding that bat from her. "I want your help Tyler, I want you to lead this new, respectful WFWF. I want you to show everyone that you’re not the man they think they are, the man who butchers people, who ends careers.""That’s not strictly true though, is it?""You did what you had to, and you did it to help the WFWF, because that’s who you are. You’re exactly what this company needs, and I need you to behave like that. If you don’t, then what hope do we have of making things better?"Sounding a little too much like a cult leader for my liking. Didn’t escape from one cult of personality to be sucked up into another. Especially one considerably less interesting. "Look, I get you’ve got a good reason for all this, and I fully support you, don’t get me wrong, but I didn’t become a part of the WFWF to get caught up in the politics or be a poster boy. I want to wrestle, I want to make money to help my sister, if I can do some good along the way, sure, but don’t try and make me something I’m not, because that doesn’t do it for me.""I can’t say I’m not disappointed… but you know Tyler, I’ve got faith in you. Maybe it’ll take some time, but you’ll come around to my way of thinking."Her confidence makes me feel uneasy, like she knows something I don’t. I’m not like Trace, I don’t need to be ahead of everyone, predicting their every move, but I don’t like the idea of being a step behind either. "And what makes you so sure?""Because I think we understand each other, and I know as well as you do that you’re struggling right now. Struggling to decide who you are, and you’re struggling so much because you know you’re going to go one of two ways. So let me put this simply, help me and become the good guy you know you can be, or don’t… and become the monster you’re scared is hidden away somewhere in that brain of yours."F*cking hell, that was deep as hell. "That’s messed up.""If you say so. Take some time, think about it, decide who you want to be. But don’t take too much time Tyler, because if there’s one thing I know about the WFWF it’s that if you don’t have somebody guiding you, somebody you can trust… then it’ll decide who you are for you."< *** > Holy GroundMadison Square Garden. MSG. The Garden. Whatever you want to call it the fact is this building is professional wrestling. You ask any wrestler, any promoter, any fan, to name an arena and they’ll all tell you this one. Madison Square Garden is the building wrestlers dream about competing in. And now here I am, three matches into my professional wrestling career, just eight hours away from making my Garden debut. I’ve said it before, but what the f*ck is going on? It’s a bizarre feeling, sitting here, looking around at an empty arena, knowing that in a few hours there’ll be a horde of people here, cheering, booing, shouting abuse, doing whatever the f*ck they want because they’ve paid to be here. Used to be a time I couldn’t afford to be at a show like this. Now I’ll be in the ring, fighting to keep my ‘undefeated streak’ alive. You’d think this would be a magical moment for me, actually achieving a dream like this. You’d think I’d be overcome with emotion, with pride, with happiness. But honestly? I just feel sh*t, because all I can think about is what I had to do to get here. It’s gotten worse ever since Elinor gave me that letter. I’ve been carrying it around with me, thinking that sooner or later I’ll have the balls to open it. I shouldn’t care what Trace has written to me, because god knows the man was full of sh*t at the best of times, but I can’t get it out of my head. And every single night I can’t sleep because I hear the crack of the bat is another night that he’s won, that he’s holding this thing over my head. That’s the point of this letter, right Trace? To f*ck with me? You’re a piece of sh*t even when you’re in a coma. F*ck it. I pull the letter out of my bag and rip it open, unfurling a single piece of paper with Trace’s scrawl on it. Throw your worst at me Trace. If you’re reading this, it means I’m dead. Well, probably not, that’d be pretty f*cking extreme circumstances right there. But it does mean I’m out of the picture through means that were not my own. And by not my own I mean they were yours. Basically what I’m saying is Tyler, if you’re reading this then the inevitable has happened and you’ve not just turned on me, but you’ve ended me, one way or the other.
S’up?
Bet you’re freaked out right now? Let’s hope so, it’s no fun otherwise. Bet you’re wondering exactly how I know you’re the guy who’s going to end me, but come on man, if you’ve learned anything from me by now it’s that I know everything. Fact is I knew from the moment I chose to keep you around. Sure, first few months I thought you were just another loser kid, figured it’d be entertaining to watch you fail, but then I saw it. The lack of hesitation. The willingness to do whatever it takes to get what you wanted, even if you didn’t like it. That’s when I knew I could train you, make you into someone that mattered, create a legacy.
Course that’s a double edged sword, because I know that only ends one way. Either you end me or I end you. Not sure when it’ll happen. Next show, next month, next year? Who knows, but sooner or later something’s gonna come up and one of us is going to destroy the other. So I’m writing this just in case you’re the one who takes me out, instead of the other way around which, let’s be honest, is a lot more likely. Thing is though there’s a chance, there’s a chance that you could take me out, given the right motivation, and I don’t think it’d take all that much.
Fact is Tyler you and me aren’t that different. You think I’m this monster who only does this for myself, and hell the first parts probably true, but I’m doing this for the same reason you are. So I can look after my family. And there’s definitely part of me that wants the power and the fame, and hell I can’t deny I love the violence, but at the end of the day it’s about family. You’re the same kid, and as much as you try and deny it you know it, deep down. Because if I’m right, and I usually am, and you’re reading this because you’ve taken my out of the game for good, then you’re going to go to any lengths to get to the point where you can provide for that sister of yours.
Just know man, I don’t blame you, hell, I just hope my death knell was memorable. But I did want to leave you with a little parting message, something to remember me by. Something you should remember yourself. No matter what you do now, no matter what path you take, people are always going to see you the one way, because that’s what people do. They’re going to see you the same way I reckon you’ll see yourself. Because the fact is kid…
You’re the monster now.
< *** > Two matches, two wins, both fair and square. Nothing underhand, nothing illegal, everything above board. But the only thing anyone wants to talk about is what I did to Trace Demon. Even the people trying to hype the match don’t want to focus on my actual in-ring performances but rather the "thunderous crack at the expense of his mentor Trace Demon’s skull" Honestly, I’m getting a little tired of it. I did what I did for the good of the WFWF, because somebody had to finally deal with Trace Demon and nobody else was stepping up to the plate, and now I’m being victimised because of it? Boxed in as some monster for doing the right thing? I am not a monster, I am just a man trying to make a career for himself, trying to look after his family. So if you people want to try and turn me into something I’m not then fine, but I’m not going to bite.
No, what I’m going to do is the same thing I’ve done already to Brandon Bison and Jason Sykes. I’m going to walk to that ring, I’m going to fight my usual fight and I’m going to win, and then next time round you’ll all still be talking about how I bashed Trace’s head in with a baseball bat and we can go round and round in circles until the end of time. Now Reina, it’s looking like you’re being painted with the same brush after what went down with you and the good Reverend. Now I could stand here and tell you not to let it get you down, or come up with a big speech about how we can help each other out, but I’m not the man who trained me. I’m not here to make friends, or offer a shoulder. I might not be a monster but I also don’t need any friends around here, because let’s face it friendships don’t end well around here.
Thing is Reina I don’t think we’re all that similar, because sure, we both ‘made an impact’ by taking out veterans, but the fact is I had to do it for the good of the WFWF, and you just did it because you felt like it. See Reina, seems to me like you like the violence, which is the way for a lot of people around here, but if that’s the only reason you’re walking into that ring then I reckon you’re in for a rude awakening. See, guys like Kyzer, Brennan, even Trace, they’re violent by necessity. They’ve got goals, things they want, and they use violence because they think that’s how you get it. Which, given the business we’re in, ain’t half-wrong. Now you… well from what I can gather you want competition, but I’m pretty sure you were already getting that before you showed up here. So that’s a lie, which means the only reason you’re actually here is because you want to hurt people. Nothing more, nothing less.
I’m not really down with that.
Reina, fact is violence for the sake of it? It’s pretty f*cking pathetic. Means you don’t have much more going for you. Now maybe I’m wrong, hopefully I am, because the way I see it right now you’re pretty two-dimensional, a little bit boring. I mean come on, you think you can come in, make a few comments, try to intimidate people and it’ll… what? Seriously, what’s the end game here? What’re you gonna achieve? A few wins, a little bit of attention, a broken, shallow existence where nobody cares what you do unless you’re breaking your body to hurt somebody? Reina, you’re in this for all the wrong reasons, and if I’ve got to step inside that ring with you and prove it to you one to one, then that I can do. Consider it my good deed for the week. Then, maybe, you’ll get yourself a reason for being beyond punching and kicking.
Because let’s be honest, right now? I don’t think there’s much of a reason for you to be around here at all.
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Post by Rated R on May 4, 2018 12:57:20 GMT -5
Tyler Draven is in.
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Post by Rated R on Apr 22, 2018 12:55:11 GMT -5
Tyler Draven Presents Cracks
The Visitor
I’ve never been a morning person. You’d think after two years of looking after Lucy, including 6am starts to help her into her chair and get her ready for school, I’d be used to it, but no, anything before sunrise is not my idea of a good time. Or a good while after it for that matter. Yet here I am, a little after 7, hitting the ten mile point in the basement gym of the hotel that Anders organised for me. I should have spent last night celebrating. First match, first win, fair and square. But instead I sat in my room, barely able to sleep, thinking of the same thing I’ve been thinking about for two weeks now.
The noise of Trace Demon’s skull as I nearly caved it in. The blood pouring out of his skull.
Every waking moment when my mind’s not occupied by something else that’s all I can think about. That and the fact that my own sister doesn’t even want to speak to me. I knew doing what I did wasn’t going to be easy, but I didn’t think it’d haunt me this much. But I did it for the right reasons, I know I did, and if I have to suffer so I can make sure Lucy has a comfortable life… well then I’ll suffer, all day, every day. That’s what it’s worth. But as I crank up the speed on the treadmill to distract myself I can’t help but wonder whether I knew it’d be this hard, or if some part of me thought I’d forget it all, that I’d move on with my life like nothing had ever happened. Maybe I thought Trace had rubbed off on enough that I wouldn’t second guess hurting someone like that.
F*ck, was I wrong.
I keep on running until my legs and lungs can’t take anymore, which takes another three miles, and then slow to a steady walk, then a complete stop. My eyes sting from the sweat and I have to down a bottle and a half of water before I feel even semi-human again. Never was too big on cardio, or the gym for that matter, but can’t risk gassing myself out in that ring. If I want any hope of going from beating people like Bison to standing toe to toe with a guy like Kyzer or Brennan then… well, I’m gonna need a sh*t ton more than just good cardio but let’s focus on one panic inducing thing at a time, right?
"Tyler Draven, found you at last."
Talk about panic inducing.
"Ms. Nix? Excuse the language but… what the f*ck are you doing here? Wait…"
My heart skips.
"Are you here on your own or…"
"Don’t worry that naive little mind of yours Tyler, Trace isn’t here. In fact that would be extremely difficult given his current situation, don’t you think?"
Right, the coma. She’s got a point, that’d do a pretty good job of impairing anybody’s travel arrangements. Doesn’t make her presence here any less f*cking petrifying. Elinor Nix is a scary chick, no doubts about it, but you’ve probably got to be if Trace Demon of all people is gonna trust you with all his business dealings. At least, that’s what I think she did, Trace never really let me in on any of that. Probably didn’t trust me. Guess he had reason not to… Also, I heard her and Trace liked to bang, so there’s that to.
"Now I understand what you’re thinking-"
I mean now I’m thinking of her naked so not f*cking likely.
"But I’m here on business. What happened between you and Trace, as messed up as it may sound, has no baring on me, and I’m not going to pretend it does."
"That’s pretty cold."
"Coming from you?"
Point taken.
"Despite what you might believe Tyler, myself and Trace Demon were business associates, nothing more. I had no connection to him beyond that, and I certainly didn’t like or dislike him, one way or the other. As a boss, he was fine, as a person? Well I won’t shed any tears over his current predicament. That’s not to say that others aren’t. Trace Demon had a family, after all."
Way to remind me. Emily, Caitlin, Eliza… f*ck man, he had a daughter. A f*cking four year old kid.
"Regardless, my job’s still the same as it always was, to manage Trace Demon’s businesses and estate, which brings me to my reason for being here. A couple of months ago Trace entrusted me with a number of letters. This one is for you."
She hands me an envelope, my name scrawled in Trace’s handwriting on the front of it.
"A letter? Why?"
"I was told not to open it, or to give it to anyone unless something happened to Trace that would leave him out of the picture. I think I’m safe in saying that this would count as being out of the picture, wouldn’t you?"
Who even writes letters anymore? Never pegged Trace as the sentimental sort.
"Are you sure this isn’t filled with anthrax or a bomb or something?"
"Not at all. I’d appreciate it if you’d leave it until I’m at a safe distance before opening it."
Reassuring.
"Anything else?"
She hesitates, which makes me more worried about what she’s gonna say that whatever biological weapon could be in this bloody envelope.
"They reckon there’s currently a twenty percent chance that Trace will wake up within the next six months. If I was you I’d start praying to whoever you believe in that doesn’t happen. Or don’t, I don’t really care."
And with that she takes her leave, and I’m left holding a letter at eight in the morning in the basement gym of a hotel. It’s been an odd start. I tuck the letter into my bag, tell myself I’ll read it later, but that’s a lie. The one upside of Elinor’s visit is that I’m not just thinking about the sound a barbed wire bat makes when it hits flesh and bone, now I’m thinking about what happens if and when Trace Demon wakes up, because sure, I could take her advice and start praying, but let’s be honest here, after what I did… who’d even listen to me?
< *** >
Pre-Flight Entertainment
Another show means another city, so I’m bunkered down for the next two hours at LAX, waiting for the flight to Philly. Trace hated airports, couldn’t stand all the people, he preferred to drive whenever he could, even if it took two days to travel from one side of the country to the next sometimes. Me? I don’t mind airports, people don’t bother me as long as they let me keep to myself, and it’s a hell of a lot better than being stuck in a car for sixteen hours listening to Trace’s rants.
Course it’d probably be a different story if I was stuck in here with Anders. In the two weeks I’ve had him as my ‘handler’ or whatever sh*t Lila called it I’ve quickly clicked as to why Trace thought so little of him. The guy’s a tool, grade A all the way. Everything he talks about is just so f*cking dull. Sure, he’s had a tough time of it the past year, what with his daughter ending up in a coma and all, but apparently she woke up a few weeks back, not long after I bludgeoned Trace’s head in. You’d think he’d be back home looking after her instead of trailing around after me trying to relive his glory days, if he ever had any, but from what I can tell his ex-wife can’t stand the sight of him and would probably kill him if he was hanging around all the time.
Can’t say I’d blame her.
Luckily for me he headed back home for a few days to check in on her so I get to fly out in piece. He’ll be meeting me on the other side to take my to the hotel, because I can’t be trusted to make it on my own, but I’ll take peace and quiet wherever and whenever I can get it, especially when it means I can sneak in a sh*tty airport burger. I get it, I’m a ‘professional wrestler’ now, I need to load up on healthy sh*t and protein or whatever, but come on, it’s not the easiest thing to be eating when you’re sitting opposite Anders shovelling whatever the sloppiest burger in the place is down his throat. The guy could do with listening to his own advice.
I check my phone, not sure what I’m expecting, the only person that messages me nowadays is Anders and I’ve muted the f*ck out of him. Out of the corner of my eye I can see a mother and son. The kid, probably about thirteen, fourteen, is pointing at me, which immediately turns my gut. I might be fine with people, but not when they’re actually paying attention to me. One thing I’m not used to is being noticed, and thank god barely anyone ever does. I didn’t get into this to make fans, don’t really care if people like me or not, I got into it to be paid to fight because I’m good at it and because it’s the only way I’ve got to make the money to help my sister. But Trace warned me people recognising you was part of parcel of being in this business.
"When people see you on TV, whether they like you or not, they want a part of you. They’ll want to speak to you just so they can go back and tell people they did, to make their own miserable f*cking lives feel more important."
Before I can move the kid’s pulled away from his mom and is already heading towards me. I’m a second too slow processing it to get the hell out of dodge and suddenly he’s right in the my face, this barely-a-teenager looking at me with wide eyes.
"You’re a wrestler, right?!"
He says it with such enthusiasm, like it’s something to be proud of. Hard to believe I thought the same when I was his age. Hell, I thought the same this time last year. Now though…
"Wrong guy, sorry kid."
"No, it’s definitely you. You’re the baseball bat guy, the one who bashed Trace Demon’s head in!"
F*ck. He’s not even a fan of me as a wrestler, he’s a fan of me as a butcher.
"Kid, I’m telling you I’m-"
"I can’t believe it’s you! I thought what you did to Trace was awesome!"
What?
"Seriously, you messed him up! It was so cool, he never saw it coming! Can I get your autograph?"
I’m too shocked to say anything, so I just scrawl my signature on whatever piece of paper. Of all the reactions I thought that massacre would get I didn’t think awe would be one of them.
"When my mom lets me I’m gonna become a wrestler too, and then I’ll get to hit people with bats as well!"
"Jason!"
And now the mom’s here, dragging the kid away, running him down, sending him off to his dad. The kid’s smile never fades, he stares at the autograph, grinning from ear to ear. The mom doesn’t follow, she stares at me, like I’ve killed her f*cking dog or something.
"I know who you are."
"Um… okay?"
"You should be ashamed of yourself."
"What now?"
"What you did was disgusting! People saw that, my son saw that, but you don’t care, do you? Because you’re sick. Don’t argue with me, you know it’s true!"
She started firm, but now she’s shouting, and people are starting to stare. I’ve never felt so awkward.
"You don’t hit someone with a bat over and over unless you’re sick in the head. You shouldn’t be wrestling, you should be locked up! How can you live with yourself? Going around hurting people like that! Do you ever think what you’re doing to them, to their family? You’re ruining people and you should be ashamed of yourself! Your parents must be absolutely disgusted with you!"
"Oh shut the f*ck up."
If everyone wasn’t already staring they sure as hell are now, but honestly? I don’t care. Not sure if it was the parents jab or just my patience wearing so thin it’s non-existent but I’ve had enough of this b*tch.
"One, my parents are dead, so I don’t think they care all that much. Two, you’ve got no f*cking idea what you’re talking about, Trace Demon was a monster and I did what I did because it was the right thing to do. Three, the only person here who should be ashamed of themselves is you. I mean come on, that kid’s what? Twelve? Thirteen? And you’re letting him watch sh*t like the WFWF? That ain’t no family viewing. Hell, people have gotten f*cking shanked on live TV! So why don’t you worry less about what I’m doing and more about raising your kid so he doesn’t turn into the next f*cking Obo or something. F*cks sake."
I grab my bag and storm off, ignoring the woman’s dumbstruck stare. Maybe I should start driving around after all.
< *** >
Good Guy, Bad Guy
A five hour flight later and we land in Philly without any more incidents. Anders is waiting for me on the other side. He looks more miserable than normal.
"Lila is pissed."
"Maybe she should quit day drinking then."
I walk past him, letting him trail behind me even though I’ve got no idea where he’s parked.
"What were you thinking?"
"I mean I thought it’d be funny, but I guess our sense of humour is a bit different."
"No, about this!"
He pulls out his phone and shoves it into my hands. I stare at the screen, watching my run-in with that b*tch of a mom earlier today. Whoever thought every phone needing a video camera was a good idea is a f*cking d*ck.
"She started it Anders."
"That’s not the point! This right here, this is some Trace Demon level sh*t! This is a god damned sh*t storm! A PR nightmare! You already had an uphill battle to repair your reputation after that massacre but we could make that work with the whole doing what’s right thing-"
"I was doing what was right."
"Right, okay, sure. But this Tyler, there’s no way of playing this off where you come out looking good."
I eventually spot his Mercedes in the parking lot, did I mention Anders is in the midst of a midlife crisis? I chuck my bag on the backseat and climb into the passengers seat. Anders gets behind the wheel, not even slowing down for air as he keeps mouthing off.
"Lila’s got a lot invested in you Tyler, and she needs to make sure everyone knows that you’re someone they can support in spite of what you did."
"In spite of?! She wasn’t saying that when she asked me to bash a man’s skull in!"
"Look no matter whether it was the right thing to do, and trust me, it was, what you did to Trace isn’t the actions of a ‘good guy’, so it’s extremely important right now that you project a good public image. I didn’t think that’d be a problem for you Tyler."
He’s right. What happened back at LAX was out of character. That’s not me.
"I blew up at her, I messed up, I get it. But she was poking at me Anders, she didn’t have a clue what she was talking about."
"Maybe not, but that’s not the way the world works. People talk without knowing the full story, hell, it’s what the entire world is based on. But you know the full story, you know what you did was right, that don’t change based on what people say. But you’ve gotta realise that people are still gonna try and call you out on it, because that’s just the way it works."
"So I’m meant to just keep my mouth shut?"
"When it comes to the fans? Hell yes. These people pay your wages. Or more accurately, they pay for the sponsors products and the sponsors pay your wages. You cause too much trouble for the company then don’t think for a moment Lila won’t cut you, you’re not a big enough star to get away with sh*t like that."
"Right, sure."
That’s what it all boils down to. I’m not a ‘big enough star’, because that makes any difference to my actions. The likes of Kyzer and Schneider can get away with whatever they want because of their name value, but I’m a bad guy because nobody knows who I am. But if that’s the only difference between me and them then am I really any better? Am I really the kind of guy kids should be looking up to? What makes me different than any of the other sociopaths on the roster? If I was that kid, if I was watching a guy crush a guys skull in… would I really think the guy with the bat was a good guy?
…
Hours later I’m in my room at the hotel, my mind still running over that very question. I dig through my bag, looking for my razer, when I find something I stuffed in here ten days back, something I haven’t had the courage to pull out since then.
Trace’s letter.
I hold it in my hand, running my finger along the crease of the envelope. I begin to pull at one end, wondering what Trace Demon would have written to me before I smashed his head in. What this guy, who trusted me, well, as much as he trusted anyone, only for me to betray him and possibly end his career. I think about all the possibilities, all the reasons he’d write me a letter in the first place. And I stop. I shove it back into my bag and I leave it there.
Because right now, with everything else swirling through my brain, the last thing I need are the words of the man I butchered…
< *** >
Tyler Draven. Jason Sykes. People seem to be comparing those two names a lot right now. Apparently if you’ve got a couple of things in common you may as well be the same person in the eyes of wrestling fans, but let’s be honest here, the people comparing us are just grasping at straws. Let’s break things down, piece by piece. First off, you’ve got the fact that we’re both trained by ‘great mentors’. Not my words, let’s make that clear right now. See I was trained by a Hall of Famer, a former two time World Champion, a man who hung around for over ten years and made himself a household name. You? You were trained by a guy called Devilkiller. I mean come on, how desperate was he to be EXTREME that he decided on that for a f*cking ring name. Sure, Trace Demon’s not much better, but at least that was the guy’s real name, not some sh*tty horror film name he thought was cool. Sad thing is that’s the only memorable thing about the guy. Yeah, he had a pretty long run as National Champion, but that’s like saying he’s good at lacrosse.
Nobody f*cking cares man.
Then there’s all the talk about how we both won on our debuts, but again, let’s look at the facts. I beat Brandon Bison, a guy who, yeah, sure, he’s not done much of anything really, but at least he’s a name. He’s been around the WFWF longer than a hot minute, people know who he is. Hell, at least he’s won a match before. You? You beat the janitor. Now that’s not a slight on Billy Broom at all, the guy’s doing something nobody thought he could do and he’s not doing completely sh*t at it, but if you can’t beat the guy who cleans up the blood after the show then you probably shouldn’t be in the ring in the first place. Now sure, you’re probably riding pretty high after that win and don’t let me put you down man, but I’m trying to do things a bit differently to the guy who trained me and be honest with everyone, so let me be honest with you.
I’m a bit insulted people think there’s anything worth comparing. Now I don’t want to sound arrogant, because I know I’m not the most polished guy around here, and I’m not saying that you’ve not got talent either, I’m just saying what you’ve done and what I’ve done in the WFWF are on two different levels, and saying they’re even remotely similar is a f*cking insult to the guy who beat an actual wrestler last show. Now it’ll probably be hard to not take that the wrong way, but to be honest I don’t care all that much how you do take it, cause as far as I’m concerned it’s the truth. Last show I got handed a challenge, and you got handed a cakewalk, so when I see people saying this’ll answer who’s the contender and who’s the pretender I can’t help but laugh, because right now the only thing you’ve proven you’re a contender for is the sh*ttest catchphrase.
Come on man! "Always believe in yourself because in the end you’ll always have yourself?" What the f*ck even is that? Man, a catchphrase is meant to be catchy, it’s meant to be something you can sell some T-shirts with. Only place you’re selling sh*t with believe in myself on is the self-help section of your local hipster book store. I get what you’re selling here, but take it from someone who’s actually had to look out for himself most of his life, words don’t mean sh*t. Telling people to believe in themselves? It’s not gonna help them, not one bit. You want to help those people? You tell them the truth. You tell them that life is f*cking hard and that sometimes you’ve gotta do sh*t you’re not proud of, and if you can’t dig up the balls to do that when it counts, when it helps you and your family, then you don’t deserve to believe in yourself or any of that sh*t, because there ain’t nothing about yourself worth believing in.
Me? I’m not gonna sit here and shout off generic crap about believing in myself, because the only thing I care about is doing my talking in the ring. When we step in there Sykes you can talk all you want, but I won’t be listening. I’ll be fighting, because I’ve done too much to get cut down here to the likes of you. That don’t mean you’re gonna get any crap from me, because I’m gonna keep proving that I can get this done fair and square, but I promise you right here, right now that I’ll keep fighting until my last breath to make sure I keep winning, because right now that’s all I’ve got. So call it desperation, call it determination, call it whatever you want, the only thing that matters is that I’m gonna tear you apart to make sure that people know there are no comparisons between people like me and you.
And you can believe in that.
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Post by Rated R on Apr 12, 2018 17:24:29 GMT -5
I'm able to write the match, however, does "Tyler" (it feels weird typing that instead of Trace) want to write it? I don't care either way. You go crazy man, I'm avoiding match writing for as long as I can.
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Post by Rated R on Apr 4, 2018 2:17:13 GMT -5
Tyler Draven is in.
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Post by Rated R on Mar 25, 2018 10:15:52 GMT -5
It's weird writing a new character after 10+ years of writing Trace, so I think it's gonna take me a while to get the voice down the way I want it to, but this is as good as an introductory bit I can think of and sets up a lot of things that'll really pay off down the line for Tyler's story. Good luck Bison.
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Post by Rated R on Mar 25, 2018 10:13:39 GMT -5
Tyler Draven Presents The New Guy
The Deal
Crack.
Everyone's done bad sh*t in their life. Go on, you show me someone who hasn't done a single sh*tty thing and I'll show you a straight up liar. It's just the way the world works, ain't a chance you get anywhere without doing some messed up crap. Is it right? Maybe not, but it's the way things work. Not sure I ever understood that before, but now?
Crack.
Now I understand. Sometimes doing something f*cked up is the only way forward, sometimes you do it because it’s the right thing to do, sometimes you do it because nobody else has the balls. Me? I did it for my sister, and for the WFWF. I did it because there was a sociopath running around doing whatever he wanted, and nobody else was going to step up and stop him.
Crack.
That’s why I smashed Trace Demon’s skull in…
"You did the right thing Tyler."
She says it like she’s trying to reassure me, but the fact she could barely look at me when we were stood out there on the ramp tells me exactly what she thinks of me. Lila Sleater, a woman who wanted rid of Trace Demon more than anybody else, thinks I’m no better than he was. Thing is, is she really wrong about that?
"Not sure everybody’s gonna see it that way."
"Like Frank? I know what he said to you, but don’t let that get to you. He doesn’t see the bigger picture."
Frank Lynn? She thinks I’m worried what that hypocrite thinks of me? I saw what he did out there just now, the guy’s just proving what Trace said about him, he’s as ego-driven as everybody else round here. That whole revolution was a f*cking joke.
"Right… sure. Let’s just get this done with, alright? I need a shower."
I’ve not even changed. Trace’s blood’s still splattered all over me, like some art piece with a message nobody’s ever gonna get. I’ve been sat in Lila’s office since it happened, just staring at that damn bat, hearing that noise, the crack of Trace’s skull, over and over again, like he’s still there, taunting me even now. But he’s not, he can’t be, because he’s getting carted off to some hospital.
"We can table this, come back to it at a time when you’re a little more… put together?"
"Lila, I just bashed a man’s head in with a f*cking barbed wire bat, the very same man who got my foot in the door. He might have been a sociopath but I did that to him. What’s waiting gonna do? Ease my soul? Nah, let’s just get this done with while you can still bare to be in the same room as me."
She doesn’t try to deny it, at least she’s got enough respect to not try and bullsh*t me. Hell, maybe that’s one thing I’ve got on the rest of these guys now, her respect. Might have earned it by giving a guy brain damage but worth it, right? What a f*cking joke.
"Right, here it is."
She pulls out the same binder she showed me weeks ago. At that point I thought it was the best thing that had ever happened to me, that no matter what I had to do that it was worth it. Now? Now I’m not so sure.
"This, Tyler, is your official WFWF contract. It’s everything we agreed upon. You’ll be treated the same as everyone else, have to work your way up of course, prove you can cope with the life of a wrestler, but I’ll give you a fair shot, as promised. You sign this and you’ll officially be a WFWF competitor."
"No catches, no bullsh*t?"
"I’m a woman of my word Tyler. You’ve proven that you’re reliable, that you can make the right decisions for yourself and the company. You’re a better man than Trace Demon ever was, we could use someone like that around."
"You mean someone who’ll swing a bat when you tell him to?"
"When you sign that you’re a legitimate WFWF competitor, you’re not my lackey Tyler, I’m not expecting you to fight my battles for me. I’m a big girl, I can take care of myself."
Just not this time, right? No matter what Trace thought I’m not stupid, I know what Lila thinks of me, and I know she thinks that my making this grand gesture, giving me the contract I’ve always wanted, that I’ll think I owe her. But again, I’m not stupid. If anything she owes me. I dealt with her problem for her, I’m not about to let her forget it.
"Done."
I finish skimming over the contract. Not gonna lie, half of the legal jargon went straight over my head, stay in school kids, but it seems as straight forward as it’s gonna be. I won’t be earning Trace Demon money any time soon but it’ll be enough to make a difference for Lucy. I put my name to it and just like that, I’m officially a professional wrestler. Who knew it was so easy?
"Welcome to the fold Tyler."
She offers her hand and I take it. She just made me a WFWF superstar, least I can do is shake her hand.
"You know Trace always said a lot of bad things about you Lila, a lot of bad things, but aside from the manipulation and turning me into a butcher, you’re not as bad as he made out."
"Thanks… I think."
I take the bat off of her desk, keep the barb wire end far away from my skin. That sh*t looks like it hurts. Lila watches me cautiously, got to wonder if I’ve already given myself a reputation. How are the crowds going to treat me? As some hero who got rid of the big bad villain, or just another crazy f*cker who bashed a guys head in.
"I’m gonna keep this by the way. Trace always said every new guy needs a hook, figure this is as good as any."
"Tyler, before you go, can I offer you some advice? Don’t turn into these people. What you did out there? It was sick and messed up, but you did it for the right reasons. You know that as well as I do. Trace had to be stopped, and you did what needed to be done, but don’t let that turn you into another bitter and twisted f*ck. We’ve got enough of those around here, you’re not like them. You’re a good person."
"Thanks Lila, I’ll keep it in mind."
Everyone’s done bad sh*t in their life, but does that make them a bad person? Just because it was the right thing to do, does that make it right when you take a barbed wire bat to somebody’s skull? Does that make it right that right now, in my hand, I’m holding a bat that’s got Trace’s flesh still clinging to it? The f*ck if I know. All I know is that I’ve got a WFWF contract, and if I don’t think about that cracking noise, then maybe I won’t hear it every time there’s a brief silence…
Crack.
< *** >
Alone
”She doesn’t want to speak to you Tyler."
"What do you mean she doesn’t want to speak to me? She’s my sister!"
"Well you should have thought about that before you did what you did. Seriously, what were you thinking? That was… it was sick Tyler. Sick."
"I did what I had to, for her. The money will-"
"The money? You could have found money some other way! You could have got a proper job! The money’s not an excuse for what you did. Your parents would be ashamed of you."
"Don’t speak about my parents like that!"
"Or what? You’ll attack me with that bat as well? Goodbye Tyler, I’ll let you know when Lucy wants to talk to you, but honestly? Don’t hold your breath."
The line goes dead. I sink into the chair, resist the urge to throw my phone halfway across the room. The silence is unbearable. I’ve barely ever gone a day without speaking to my sister since the accident but since that night I’ve not spoken to her. I went into that arena knowing full well what I was gonna do, which made the idea of her staying with Trace’s weird extended family pretty messed up when you think about it. So I made a call I thought I’d never make. See my parents might of died a few years back in the same accident that put my sister in that chair of hers, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have any family at all. I’ve got an uncle and an aunt who’ve never stopped talking about how Lucy would’ve been better off staying with them. That staying in L.A. wasn’t right for ‘someone like her’, as if they knew the first f*cking thing about what it took to look after her all these years. I never thought I’d actually take them up on the offer, but I never thought I’d be putting people in hospital either, so turns out I’m crossing a lot of lines recently.
Anyway, I made the call and told them to look after Lucy, told them that what I was about to do I didn’t want her knowing about. She’d find out, obviously, not like she can’t use a computer, but I didn’t want her watching and I didn’t want her there when I got home, dirty clothes covered in another man’s blood. Fact is me being a wrestler without Trace’s support network would’ve made it difficult to look after her anyway, and everything I do I do for her, so I made the right decision, hard as it may be, and told them to look after her for me. She wasn’t happy about it, cried for hours, but it was the right thing to do, end of the day.
Feels like I’m saying that a lot this past week.
F*ck.
Trace Demon’s in the hospital, they reckon it’s brain damage, as far as I’ve heard. Not sure when he’ll wake up, or even if he will. That’s messed up. I know I wanted to injure him, end him even, but really I only wanted to take him out of the WFWF. Would have just aimed for the knees if I didn’t think he’d find a way to crawl into my apartment and strangle me in my sleep. F*ck, that’s an image I didn’t need, that f*cker’ll haunt me.
Was it worth it? Sure, the money’ll help Lucy, whether she’s talking to me or not. And I’m getting to live my dream, I’m a wrestler for the WFWF. This is what I was working for, this is why I was hanging around Trace in the first place. But at the end of the day? Was it worth it? Was it worth battering a man’s head in just to get a job? I can’t stop thinking about that, whether it was worth it. And every time I do I come to the same answer.
"It’s always worth it."
"What the f*ck?"
I could have sworn I head something, a voice, right behind me, but there’s nobody else here. I’m all alone. Everything that’s gone on is getting to me, messing with my head. I need to relax, forget about everything. Get the f*ck out of this apartment before it drives me mad. Maybe head off to Charlotte early. Don’t even know who I’ll be facing yet but getting away from this place has to settle my mind. Maybe give me some time to prepare, train. It’s not going to be easy, I’m not exactly the most experienced wrestler around. Yeah, that’s what I’ll do, get the hell away from here…
I knew that voice.
< *** >
The Ring
The day of a show, after we’d arrived in whatever city the WFWF was running that night, Trace would disappear for a few hours. He wouldn’t say anything to anyone, he’d just go, usually first thing in the morning too. Later he’d tell me it was this ritual he had. He’d turn up at the arena the show was scheduled to run in, he’d head down to where the ring was usually already set up and he’d sit there in it, in the middle of an empty arena. Said it cleared his mind, got him ready for that night, for whoever he was ‘going to rip apart’ as he put it. The guy had a way with words, that’s for sure.
He might have been a sociopath, but he was right about this. About the feeling of standing in the ring when there’s nobody else around. Well, nobody but the fifty or so guys putting together everything for the night, but they don’t bother me as long as I don’t get in their way. It’s weird thinking about how in just a few hours there’ll be people cueing up to get in here yet here I am, like I belong here. I guess I do. Whether these people like me or not, or think I got here the right way, I belong here. I’ve earned this.
Is that really how you earn things though? By bashing a man’s head in? I still can’t get the sound out of my head, the way his blood spurted from his skull, the vacant look in his eyes as he dropped to the mat. This mat, right here. Another building maybe, but it’s this ring. Right below my feet is where he fell, like he was nothing. A man who’d wrestled for over ten years in the WFWF, a man nobody else had been able to get rid of. Gone, just like that, like he was nothing, because of me. I’d like the say I couldn’t do it again, but I reckon I’d be lying. It wasn’t that hard, that’s the scary thing. After I’d taken that first swing the next two were easy, just like hitting a baseball. I can see him, right now, when I close my eyes. Like I’m still there.
Crack. Crack. Crack.
That’s it. Three swings, three hits, and I ended the career of a WFWF Hall of Famer. Easy.
So why can’t I sleep? Why do I see blood every time I close my eyes? Why is the only time I can forget about it when I’m drinking myself into a stupor? I don’t even like alcohol, it tastes f*cking grim, but it’s the only thing stopping me from seeing Trace’s face when I finally manage to drift off because my eyes won’t stay open anymore. Is that how it started for him? Was Trace Demon a normal man who did something horrible and let the darkness creep in? Or was he always a monster? I mean if you listen to the people around here he was, or even if you watch the WFWF Archive (available for a low low price I’m told, though I get it free, perk of the job and all), but he had to be good once, right? Nobody’s born evil.
Except Manson. That dude f*cking sucked.
Either way, it doesn’t really matter. I’m not here to be the next Trace Demon, I’m here to be the first Tyler Draven. It might have been easy to take his head off, I might still have that bat in the back, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to let myself become like him. Or like any of them. I can be better. I can show that you can win the right way. I can redeem myself. Can’t I?
"Ah, Tyler, fantastic, they told me you’d already arrived."
My peace is cut off by Lila, but unlike every other interaction I’ve had with her this time she’s not alone. She’s flanked by a guy in a cheap looking suit, chubby, balding, a huge sh*t-eating grin plastered across his face. I recognise him immediately, even though I’ve only ever met him once before. Jason Anders, Trace Demon’s former lackey and ex-WFWF General Manager.
"It’s good to see you again Mr. Draven."
I roll out of the ring, perch myself on the edge of the canvas, looking the pair of them over. Weird seeing the two of them together, I’d assumed they’d hate each other given their former involvement with Trace, but then again they both hated him by the end of it. Anders even urged me to take Lila up on her offer, to put an end to Trace. Sh*t. Did the two of them play me?
"I know what you’re thinking Tyler and don’t worry, mine and Jason’s business together happened after the two of you had your little conversation, not that I wasn’t pleasantly surprised to hear that he supported our endeavour."
"You make beating a man’s head in sound like a business deal."
"I’ve come to terms with what we did Tyler, I think you should to. Dwelling on the past isn’t going to get you anywhere."
Easy for her to say. Wasn’t her that swung the bat.
"Now, I suppose you’re wondering why myself and Mr. Anders here interrupted your quiet contemplation?"
"Oh it wasn’t just for a friendly chat?"
"I see you picked up on some of Trace’s sarcasm during your time together. I suppose that will make the adjustment easier."
"Adjustment? What’re you talking about."
"After the incident with Trace Mr. Anders contacted me, said he wanted to reach out and congratulate me on doing what was best for the WFWF. I appreciated the sentiment and we began to discuss what exactly is best for the WFWF."
"I was passionate about this company once upon a time, I want to see it succeed as much as anyone. And for it to do that it needs to have a bright future ahead of it. We think you’re a big part of that future."
"A man driven by doing what is right for the WFWF, who isn’t afraid to get his hands dirty, who sees the value in doing the tough jobs to make things better. That’s somebody who I want to nurture."
"I told you before Lila, I’m not being your lackey. What I did… it needed doing, but that doesn’t mean I liked doing it. I stopped Trace because it was the right thing to do, not because you wanted me to do it."
If she’s surprised to hear me talking back to her she doesn’t show it. She keeps that business-woman smile plastered firmly on her lips.
"I told you Tyler, I’m not going to offer you any favourable treatment, so I’m not expecting any in return. But you’re new to this world, and you’re previous… guide, shall we say? He wasn’t exactly the type of teacher I’d like promising talent to learn from. I feel like, while you learn you way around the WFWF, learn the way things are supposed to happen, then you could do with someone in your corner. Someone unbiased."
"Someone like him?"
"Someone like me."
"I’d rather not."
"I’m afraid that’s not an option Tyler. I’m making Mr. Anders here your official handler. Consider him an agent, a confidant and a personal assistant all rolled into one. I want to make sure you’re getting the best possible treatment here Tyler, this is a good thing for you, trust me."
Trust her? Not a chance. I can’t trust anyone around here, if I’ve learned anything so far it’s that.
"So, what d’you say kid? You ready to take this career of yours up a notch?"
It’s not hard to see why Trace always made fun of the guy. He tries too hard and it’s really a bit sad. He offers me his hand, both Anders and Lila still with those wide grins. Trace always told me to tread carefully around friendly people, they’re always after something. It’s not difficult to see that that’s true here. Lila wants Anders to keep an eye on me, and I can’t help but think that it’s not for my own wellbeing. But at the end of the day I’m still new here, and I’ve got to try and play the game if everyone else is doing it.
Course, I’ve got to learn the game first.
"I’ll give it a try, but if you start to annoy me I’m gonna be honest, I’m probably gonna walk out on you."
"Me? Oh you won’t have to worry about that Mr. Draven, I feel like we’re going to get along just fine."
I very much have doubts about that.
< *** >
It’s funny how quickly things change. A few years back I could only dream about being a professional wrestler, now here I am about to step foot in the ring for the first time. That should be a big deal, right? People should be talking about that sh*t. And they are… but not the way I want. They’re not asking who is this guy, what’s his story, how’s he gonna do. Nobody cares about me actually wrestling, all they care about is that I’m the man who ended Trace Demon. And I get it, that’s a big story, and anybody else would be grateful for the publicity. They’d be happy people were talking about them. But that’s not me. Because I don’t want to be known as the man who ended Trace Demon. I don’t want to be known as the man who did what nobody else could do. But sh*t, I brought it on myself, right? I did what I did, shouldn’t be surprised people took notice. But if you think that’s all I am, then you’re about to get a very big surprise.
See what people should be saying is that this is the guy who didn’t just end Trace Demon, he’s the guy who was trained by Trace Demon. He’s the guy who was mentored my a WFWF Hall of Famer, a former World Champion, a former everything-champion. What they should be asking is what does this guy know? What did Trace Demon teach him? What’s he gonna do when he steps foot in that ring and stands toe to toe with Brandon Bison? But they’re not, they’re not asking any of that… and that pisses me off, because I deserve to be here. I have worked hard to get myself this shot. I have done things that nobody else has ever had to do just to get this opportunity. Don’t believe me? You’ve got janitors and old men and people nobody have ever heard of getting shots that they haven’t had to work half as hard for, and then there’s me, a man with principles, a man with honour, a man who believes in doing the right thing. And to get this shot I had to put an end to one of the most prolific careers in WFWF history.
So, Brandon Bison, ask yourself, if that’s what I was capable of doing to get this opportunity, if that’s what I was willing to do to get my foot in the door, what I am willing to do to stay here? See I don’t know a lot about you, you were never really on Trace’s radar, but from what I can see you’re one of the few ‘good guys’ in the WFWF. Good stuff man, it’s nice to see not everybody is about f*cking everybody’s sh*t up, but gonna be honest with you, that stuff don’t seem to fly around here much anymore. The WFWF doesn’t exactly cater to good wholesome ethics, does it? And a lot of that got thrown on Trace but when you got sickos like Schneider and Kyzer running about let’s spread the blame a bit, right? But I’m happy my first match is going to be against somebody who respects the business, who wants to go out to that ring and win fair and square. You bring that attitude to our match and I’ll do the same. We can stand there, we can shake hands and we can wrestle and everyone’ll see that there’s still some good guys left in this business.
But I get you’ll probably have your concerns about shaking my hand, given the blood that’s already on it. I’m not gonna offer any apologies for what I did, because somebody had to do it. Trace Demon ran around like he owned the place for too long, and nobody else had the balls to step up. So I did it, and it’s already cost me more than you’ll ever understand. I can’t close my eyes without seeing the blood spurting out of his skull, without hearing the noise of the bat, or the sound of flesh ripping away. crack, crack, crack, rip, rip rip. It’s floating through my head all day, every day. That’s what I’ve coped with every single day since… but it had to be done, right? Yeah, it had to be done. And if nobody else was going to step up then it may as well be me. So if you don’t want to shake my hand Bison, then fine, but I’ll still offer it, I’ll still fight fair, I’ll still give it my all to try and put on one hell of a match.
And I’ll win. See that’s the other thing I want to make sure you know about me. I’m a good guy, deep down, but I want this more than anything. I need the money for my sister, and I need to win to get it. I’ve got a purpose for being here, and it doesn’t matter whether you’re a good guy or a complete f*cking ass, if you’re stepping into that ring with me you better be ready for a fight, because I’ve got nothing else. I know you’ve got these big dreams Bison of making your mark, of starting up this new era where you’re on top, but if you think I’m about to step aside for that? F*ck off. This is all I have, this is all I can do. So tell me Bison, what’re you going to do when you step inside that ring with a man who’s got nothing else? What’re you going to do when you hit me as hard as you can and I get back up? What’re you going to do when you throw everything at me and then you look me in the eyes and know it’s not enough because there is nothing else but this match? I know you’ve got experience on your side Bison, but you’ve not faced a man like me.
And by the time we’re doing these people aren’t gonna be speaking about Tyler Draven, the man who ended Trace Demon, they’re gonna be talking about Tyler Draven, the man who gives it his all, who fights till his last breath, who takes each hit and comes back harder. You think you’ve faced some tough b*stards in the past? Let me promise you one thing man.
You ain’t never faced anybody like me.
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Post by Rated R on Mar 18, 2018 15:27:55 GMT -5
I'm one of the most hypocritical fans of wrestling imaginable. I'm a complete and total mark for OG ECW, and I'm probably their #1 apologist to this day, but I've got absolutely no taste for any of the stuff that they clearly inspired, i.e. CZW, death match sh*t, what have you. I can't even explain it, 'cause I'll totally sit someone down and make them watch Born to be Wired in the name of education and where I found my love for ECW to begin with, but the second someone tries to counter with some Cage of Death sh*t or whatever, I'm out. I 100% echo this. Loved ECW but I've got no time for death matches despite having written my fair share of them. I've got no problem with people who dig them, because where's the fun if we all agree on everything, but I get absolutely nothing from death matches and I don't see the appeal to them personally.
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Post by Rated R on Mar 15, 2018 14:32:18 GMT -5
I've chucked up a semi-finished profile, still a few bits and pieces to add especially to the moveset, but it's more than enough for people to use for a RP.
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Post by Rated R on Mar 12, 2018 13:07:12 GMT -5
Tyler Draven is in. Profile to follow soon(ish).
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Post by Rated R on Mar 10, 2018 17:11:42 GMT -5
For what it's worth, and since I no longer have to care about playing the fair owner if I ever bothered in the first place, I am fully behind gutting the hall of fame. Plenty of names I would have cut if I'd had the support from whichever of the many co-owners I put the idea to.
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Post by Rated R on Mar 10, 2018 9:44:37 GMT -5
This is a really bittersweet show for me. I thought the show itself was fantastic and you guys did a great job with what you were given in terms of sign-ups and no-shows, but at the same time it's weird knowing that a character I've written for over ten years is pretty much gone, just like that.
That's right, this was the end of Trace Demon. It's not a story that's going to be resolved next show with him turning up right as rain, he's gone, done, say adios to the King of Demons. Trace has always been a sort of dark mirror of myself and writing him has gotten me through some pretty messed up times in my own life, so it was pretty damn weird to write him off in the way I did. But at the same time I feel like ten years plus writing the same character, with literally no time-off from him in that entire time, is too much. There's only so many stories to tell and only so much time you can write one guy before you inevitably get burned out. So that's it, Trace Demon is no more. Hope you all enjoyed the ride.
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