Post by Rated R on Jul 26, 2013 17:49:15 GMT -5
“If you are not willing to risk the unusual, you will have to settle for the ordinary.”
- Jim Rohn
I’ve always believed in the concept of risk and reward. High risk equals high reward; it makes damn fine sense when you think about it. You get all these people who live nice, quiet lives, who live day by day without ever doing anything or achieving anything worth talking about and they still claim that they’re happy and content, but in their hearts they know it’s a lie. What they’re really doing is playing it safe, avoiding taking risks because they’re scared of what happens if they fail. They’re scared about what happens if the ground falls out beneath them because when it does they know they’ll plummet into the darkness. But me, I know if that ever happens to me that I’ll be okay, because I always have a net right there to catch me. You see risks are all well and good, exciting even, but taking those risks is only one part of the equation. You’ve got to learn how to play them properly as well, to see all the angles and minimize the damage. The people that can’t do that, they’re the ones stuck at home playing it safe.
Me? I’m happy to take the risk, because I know I’m going to come out on the winning side.
That’s what sets me aside from the rest, that knowing. You can claim that you’re going to beat the odds as much as you want but claiming doesn’t achieve a damn thing, it doesn’t make you anything more than a failure. You claim because you’re not certain, you never say “I know”, you say “I’m sure” or “I’m positive”. They’re weak words because they allow for doubt, because they give you an out. Me? I’m not sure or positive that anything I do is going to work; I don’t need to be because I simply know. I know when I decide to take a risk that I’m going to take the highest reward, I know that when somebody challenges me that they will end up failing and I know whenever I step inside the ring that I will win. I know these things because I have proven them time and time again, in life and in wrestling. Your claims mean nothing against my knowledge; they’re mere whispers in the nights compared to my roar.
“Big talk from a crazy man” you might say, many would probably agree with you, but history proves otherwise. History proves that when I decide to take a risk, when I decide to do something, I always come out on top. I decide to beat Phillip Schneider, I beat Phillip Schneider. I decide to win the WFWF World Championship; I win the WFWF World Championship. I decide that I want to co-own the WFWF and make Xavier’s life a living hell, I co-own the WFWF and I damn well am making his life a living hell. And when I decide that I want to be the sole owner of the WFWF, when I decide that I want complete control over every show, over every match, over every belt and every wrestler who fights for them… well you already know what’s going to come next. I don’t take chances, I take risks because I already know the end result because I’ve got the mind to cover every angle and every single possibility.
You see Xavier you might have thought that you got one over me when you announced Yukio Blaze as your fourth man but let’s be honest, I already knew exactly who your fourth man was going to be. It was obvious to every single person that you would go and find that shell of a man, that you would call in the broken down, hollow little vegetable that used to be Yukio Blaze. But I took care of Blaze last month, I rid the WFWF of his putrid little presence, I broke the Random Hero and the man that you think you’re going to get is no hero anymore. Even if Yukio Blaze decides to turn up he will not be the man he was, he will step in that ring, see my face, piss his pants and run the other way. And the rest of your team? Well they’re not going to help you. Cam and Mak hate each other and Devilkiller… well he doesn’t give a damn about me or you, Devilkiller just cares about Devilkiller, and don’t think I don’t hate myself for saying Devilkiller this many times with a straight face.
Now you can talk about how I’ve taken a risk with my team, but there’s something very, very simple you need to realize Xavier…
I don’t take risks.
I simply take victory.
< *** >
JOE BISHOP’S APARTMENT; WIMBLEDON, ENGLAND
18th JULY 2013; 3:53pm
Trace Demon: This place stinks of England.
Joe Bishop: Is there a reason you’ve shown up on my doorstep other than to insult an entire country? I’m guessing it’s not a courtesy call?
Trace Demon: It might be, I can be courteous.
Joe Bishop: It’s like a seven hour flight to get here.
Trace Demon: You’re right, nobody is gonna buy that I care enough about my talent to make that kind of trip. Most of you would be lucky if I walked down a corridor to check you weren’t dead or something.
Joe Bishop: And yet I’m still trying to help you win control of the company.
When he puts it that way, it does sound kind of crazy, right? It’s not just me that’s thinking that putting a man with mild sociopathic tendencies in power is a bad thing? Just ask Korea.
Trace Demon: That’s because you’re a smart man Bishop. Well, maybe not smart, but of moderate intelligence. Definitely enough brain power to realize which side is going to win and pick accordingly.
Joe Bishop: I wish you’d talk like a normal person sometimes.
Trace Demon: But normal is so boring.
After about a minute of trying to find a semi-clean place to sit in the typically English looking apartment Trace just decided to screw it and sit down, thanking his lucky stars when it turned out there wasn’t a hidden dirty needle right beneath the seat. He’d seen Trainspotting, he knew when the English were like.
Joe Bishop: So you going to tell me why you flew seven hours across the globe to speak to me? You do remember we don’t like each other, right?
Trace Demon: No, you don’t like me. I find you wholly inconsequential… most of the time.
Joe Bishop: Most of the time?
Trace shifted awkwardly in the seat, he didn’t like being in this place, it reminded him too much of the crack-den style apartment he used to live in. Sure, there was nothing actually wrong with it to a normal person but Trace was working with his typical issue of thinking everything that doesn’t belong to him is crap and everybody that isn’t him is a whole lot worse.
Trace Demon: Well usually you’re nothing to me, at worst you’re a mild inconvenience that I need to beat to a pulp, but in a weeks-time you’re going to be more than that. You’re going to be partly responsible for deciding whether I keep control of the company that I rightfully deserve. Now I’m not a big fan of letting other people decide my fate but this time I don’t have a choice.
Joe Bishop: So you’ve come here to what, make sure I’m not going to double cross you?
Trace chuckles at the mere thought of it, his confidence knows no bounds. He could fly too close to the sun, laugh at Icarus and still land with wings intact.
Trace Demon: You’re not going to double cross me Joe, you’ve got too much to gain from winning this match and far too much to lose if you do anything stupid.
Joe Bishop: You still think Xavier’s going to keep you around if we lose? So I’ve got a problem with Xavier, big deal, I’ve had problems before and I know how to solve them. You’ll have nothing.
Trace Demon: You think you’ll be safe just because I’m out of a job? Oh Joey boy, you’ve got a lot to learn about the way I work. If you lose this match for me, if you lose everything that I deserve, then it’s not going to matter if I’ve got a job with the WFWF or not because I will find you and I will hurt you.
Joe Bishop: You don’t scare me Trace, you or your threats.
This one garners a big hearty laugh from the shady looking champion, is it a little bit forced? Sure, but it gets the message across.
Trace Demon: I don’t do threats Joey boy, I do promises, you should know that by now. I promised to beat you twice and what did I do? I beat you, badly, really badly, humiliated some would say.
Joe Bishop: Nobody would say that.
Trace Demon: Not to your face, that’d be really embarrassing for you. I guess people just don’t have the heart to pick on someone with mental deficiencies.
Joe’s up like a shot, he’s had enough of being insulted under his own roof. Trace follows him up, the two men standing eye to eye. Joe glares intensely at Trace, who simply smirks right at the man he must work with at Battleground. Tension fills every inch of the room, the feeling that a brawl may break out at any moment permeating it’s very core. Eventually Joe relents, knows that for now Trace is his boss and if he wants to get himself a shot at the International Championship then he’ll have to make sure he’s his boss for some time. Trace smirks, gives Joe a casual slap on the cheek and with a final sentence…
Trace Demon: Do what you have to do Joe, just remember, it’s rare that I owe anybody a favour and when I do, I make sure it gets paid back in kind. I’ll let myself out.
He heads for the door, letting himself out of the room and leaving Bishop to stand there on his own, wondering exactly how much a favour from the Devil himself is really worth.
< *** >
HOUSE OF HELL WRESTLING SCHOOL
21st JULY 2013; 5:30am
Jason Anders: What in the hell are you doing?
In the months since Jason Anders had signed on as Trace Demon’s legal executive he’d walked in on many a strange sight. There was that time he found him having lunch with a mob boss that will go unnamed, then the time he’d found him entertaining a certain country singer popular with the teen crowd (he’d certainly gotten out of there swiftly. And of course the time with the clowns, but I don’t think you’re minds can take that story right now, there isn’t enough acid in the world. Yes, Anders had seen a lot of strange stuff, but this right here was something else entirely. It wasn’t even particularly strange or weird, it certainly wasn’t as outrageous as the others, it was simply very, very odd.
Trace Demon: I’m training obviously.
The fact that Trace could speak with ease despite balancing upside down by one hand on a balance beam was quite impressive, though that didn’t change the fact that he was actually balancing upside down by one hand on a balance beam before six in the morning. No, it certainly didn’t change that fact at all.
Jason Anders: Please tell me you didn’t call me out here this early in the morning just so you could show off.
Trace Demon: Of course not.
Trace slowly walked along the balance beam on his hands, perfectly balanced as he moved to the end and then, with all the grace of a gold medallist, flipped off of the end and landed perfectly poised on the floor. He dusted his gym gear off and grabbed the nearby towel to wipe his brow.
Trace Demon: Well, maybe a little, but actually I’ve got something for you to look at.
Jason Anders: And it wasn’t the balance beam shtick?
Trace Demon: Dude, I was just getting some training in while I waited, chill out and follow me.
Jason Anders found it very difficult to chill out whenever he was dealing with Trace. He knew that he shouldn’t be nervous, Trace had been surprisingly stable for much of their working partnership, but there were still those flashes of madness, those glances that made him shudder and recoil slightly in fear. Of course he’d seen all the things Trace had done in the ring, especially the bloody beating he had given Yukio Blaze and the pleasure he had taken in it. That was enough to convince anyone that Trace wasn’t someone you wanted to let your guard down around. That and the hair, the hair was crazy person hair if he’d ever seen it.
Jason Anders: Why so early in the morning? I’ve got office hours for a reason.
Trace Demon: Got a flight to catch in a few hours, people to meet, children to terrify, you know the drill.
He really hoped Trace was kidding about the children. He hoped, but he didn’t believe.
Jason Anders: So what’s the emergency, what’s so important you couldn’t just send me an e-mail?
They’d ascended the stairs up to Trace’s office and as they entered Trace grabbed a thick folder and handed it to Anders, the lawyer looking confused as to what game Trace was playing this time round.
Trace Demon: This, I drew it up myself, I need you to make sure it’s binding before I hit that ring.
Jason Anders: Can I?
Trace waved his hand at Anders, giving him the go ahead to look through it. He popped the folder open, finding dozens of papers inside. It wasn’t just papers though, this was a contract of some sort. As Jason Anders eyes flitted through the important parts they grew wide with awe, he was meant to be the legal whizz here but this… this was genius. At least in theory, there was one very serious problem with the entire thing.
Jason Anders: He’ll never agree to any of this.
Trace Demon: He doesn’t need to; I’ve signed off on it, meaning all you have to do is get the seal of approval from the legal department and it’ll be pushed through. You know how these things work.
Jason Anders: That’s not going to be an easy thing to do. Legal has everything locked up tighter than my ex-wife’s legs.
Trace Demon: I’ve seen your ex-wife, don’t think you’re really missing out on anything.
Jason Anders: I was married to her for eight years.
Trace Demon: Should have just ordered a Thai bride or something, probably would have cost you less.
Probably not wrong there.
Jason Anders: Wait, does this say-
His eyes have fallen on a single paragraph, the section that details what happens if Team Demon should happen to lose at Battleground.
Trace Demon: I’ve got to have a backup plan, cover every eventuality, even if they’re nearly impossible. I mean miracles happen every day, or at least so I’m told by the crazy homeless guy I pass every day on the way here.
Jason Anders: And you trust his opinion?
Trace Demon: I spent a good few years trusting the opinion of alcoholics, why stop now?
Jason Anders: But this… this is too much, this will never clear.
Trace Demon: Make it happen Anders, if you can’t then I’ll find someone who can, you know I don’t associate with people who can’t get the job done, especially a job as simple as convincing a corporate legal department to pass a contract that could change the entire playing field and potentially put every single one of them out of a job if the wrong side wins.
Jason Anders: And are we the wrong side? Because they’ll want to know.
Trace smirks, a devilish little grin that has become almost synonymous with him.
Trace Demon: When you want to get something out of somebody, you’re always the right side.
Even when you’re not…
< *** >
PENNY SHANNON’S APARTMENT; LOS ANGELES
21st JULY 2013; 4:00pm
Trace Demon: Nice place you got here, very… hipster chic.
He stood in Penny Shannon’s Los Angeles apartment, the one he himself had helped her find when he first brought her to the school. It was littered with the kind of things you’d expect from a woman like Shannon. Posters of rocker chicks cluttered the walls, records and CD’s of the same musicians were all over the place and the smoking apparatus… well that was just damn well everywhere. Still, at least the girl knew how to party, that was one of the few things Trace respected in a person.
Penny Shannon: I am not a hipster.
Trace Demon: So I guess you live this way ironically then?
Penny Shannon: Shut up and drink your damn beer.
Trace Demon: I don’t drink.
Penny Shannon: But I poisoned it especially for you.
The snarky tone certainly wasn’t lost on him, things between him and Penny had been a little tense since he’d warned her of his intentions towards Scarlett and the World Championship. She has it, he wants it, he’ll do whatever it takes to have it, what’s so difficult to understand about that? That’s always been his thing, take what you want and don’t worry about who you hurt because as long as it’s not you, it doesn’t matter.
Trace Demon: You’ve got to get over this thing.
Penny Shannon: This ‘thing’ is called loyalty and friendship, you probably don’t know a whole lot about those things.
Trace Demon: Ouch, you cut me deep.
Penny Shannon: Truth hurts.
He’d come down to Penny’s apartment, just like he had with Joe Bishop, to garner a hold on Penny’s mind set. He knew that the choices he’d made seemed almost kamikaze in nature, but they were the right choices, that didn’t mean he couldn’t minimize the danger behind them, mould them to ensure that they weren’t going to backfire. He was a confident man, overly so at times, but he wasn’t a stupid man. All the great leaders had made a single mistake that had felled their kingdom; this was not going to be his.
Penny Shannon: Look, the only reason I let you in is because you’re not a vampire, you’re not going to stay out just because I don’t give you an invite.
Trace Demon: I did see an open window out back that’s just my size.
Penny Shannon: Just get on with it.
The tension was insurmountable, or at the very least it was kinda awkward and that isn’t even a step down because as we all know, awkwardness is the real silent killer.
Trace Demon: Just want to get an idea where your heads at, it’s not every day you make a deal to help the man who promised to crush your best friend. Well, not every day for you, I’m kind of used to it.
Penny Shannon: Look, I said I’d help you because you said you’d leave Scarlett alone.
Trace Demon: I said I’d go easy on her, but my easy and your easy probably mean completely different things.
Penny Shannon: Promise me you’ll leave her alone.
Trace Demon: I don’t make promises I can’t keep.
Penny Shannon: You don’t need the title right now, you’ve got the company, you’ve got your own belt, you’ve got enough, just leave her alone.
Trace Demon: What are you so scared of Penny, I mean we both know Scarlett can fight, that she can hold her own, so what’s got you so fearful? What’s inside that little brain of yours that’s telling you she needs protection?
Penny doesn’t answer straight away, because they both know what she’s going to say when she does. They both know exactly what she’s scared of, why she’s doing so much to help her student, her partner, her friend. All she has to do right now is look across the table at the man who sits opposite her to remind her why she’s doing this.
Penny Shannon: She can hold her own.
Trace Demon: But?
Penny Shannon: The things you do to people, the lengths you’re willing to go to, if she has to go through that then she won’t be the same person at the end. You’ll find a way to ruin her, you always do.
Trace Demon: It’s my special skill.
Just ask Yukio Blaze. Or his doctor, might get some actual sense out of him instead of a vegetable.
Penny Shannon: She doesn’t deserve that.
He changes in that moment. His expression, his tone, his body language, it all changes, becomes aggressive without every showing any aggression. He glares at her and no matter how strong she is she can’t help but fidget in her seat. He has this effect on people, he knows that, that’s why he does it, that’s why he’s so good at getting his message across. He only has to look at someone and they know they need to listen, he only needs to switch up his tone and they know that they should do what he says or something very, very bad is going to happen to them. But do you want to know the secret, the thing Trace keeps from every single person he does this to?
He wants them not to follow his orders, he wants them to rebel, because he loves crushing people when they try.
Trace Demon: What she deserves stopped mattering the moment she got her hands on that title. This is a sport, whether bald men behind their computer screens think so or not, and that means the only thing that’s important is being the best, and the only way you can even claim to be the best is by holding that title. I am the best, I am damn well the greatest wrestler in this company but unless I’m holding that title it doesn’t matter who knows that, because there’ll be someone else’s name in lights, someone else’s face on the posters, someone else headlining shows. That should be me, you know it and I know it. It doesn’t matter to me who is standing in my way, if it’s Shawn Malakai then all this unpleasantness isn’t going to be a problem. If it’s Scarlett… then that’s unfortunate, but it doesn’t change anything.
Penny Shannon: You can’t do this to her, she’s worked too hard, she deserves it too-
She doesn’t get the chance to finish her sentence as Trace literally leaps across the room at her and before she knows what is happening he has her pinned against the seat, his hand around her throat. She’s never been afraid of anything, not really, but she doesn’t need to be afraid to feel helpless, especially as Trace snarls right in her face with the vitriol of a crazed messiah.
Trace Demon: She doesn’t deserve it, not more than I do! I carried this company when it was all falling to pieces, I stayed, I worked my ass off every single week when people like Kyzer, Drakz and even Schneider were dropping like flies. I kept this company going because I’m simply that damn good so if anybody deserves that title it’s me, not princess power! Me, do you understand? Do you bloody understand me Penny?!
She nods, ready to strike out if he doesn’t let go. She’s not a little girl and she isn’t going to let him push her around.
Trace Demon: Good.
Luckily, for both of them, Trace releases his grip on Penny’s throat and nonchalantly brushes himself off as if nothing had happened. Penny coughs, regaining her breath.
Penny Shannon: You’ll pay for that one day.
Trace Demon: I expect so, but not today. Just know that your words will not change my mind when it comes to little Scarlett and her big boy belt.
Penny Shannon: Then what will?
What stops a demon? Well the answer to that is simple.
Trace Demon: Nothing.
Nothing at all.
< *** >
LAX
JULY 23rd; 7:32pm
She shouldn’t have followed him here, this was a stupid idea and she knew it but she’d come too far to turn back now. He hadn’t noticed her, she was sure of it, she’d been careful, kept out of his eye line, kept her distance, she had to make sure she did this properly or she wouldn’t get paid. And that would be a shame, because that shrink had paid her a lot to get the low down on this guy and she needed the money, there wasn’t a lot of demand for an out of work journalist right now, especially not one with her… history.
Clerk: Miss?
What was the big deal about this guy anyway, sure he was kind of famous, known in certain circles, but was he really the kind of guy a woman would spend this kind of money on? No, it didn’t make much sense, the shrink had told her they weren’t a couple, so there’s the affair angle out of the window. What else could there be to want all this information? If she’d have met him on the street all she needed to know was that this guy looked terrifying and that he had an absolutely terrible name and she’d have been out of there like a shot. It didn’t matter how charismatic those online videos made him out to be, she wouldn’t be suckered…
Clerk: Uh miss, you’re holding up the line.
Carly Thatcher: Oh god, sorry! What do you need?
Clerk: Um, your passport.
God, she always did this, always got so caught up in the case that she couldn’t focus on anything else, but not this one, she wasn’t going to get in trouble, not again. She handed over has passport, the clerk, a woman in her thirties who really shouldn’t have been trying to pull off that short a skirt, looked it over. She handed it back with a slightly noticeable little glare. So what if she held the line up, they were waiting for a plane, they’d all be waiting for hours anyway.
Clerk: Here’s your boarding pass and your ticket, if you’d just like to head on through to the waiting terminal.
See, told you, waiting. She did as she was told, giving a little glare of her own back just because she could. As she made her way into the terminal her eyes began to dart around, looking for the money maker. He couldn’t be that hard to spot, not a lot of men who look like they’ve walked straight out of a Sex Pistols video about. Still no sight of him. She drops her bag down. Still nothing. She takes her seat. Where the hell has he vanished off to? Scanning the room. She suddenly starts to hope she hasn’t gone into the wrong terminal…
THERE!
He was standing by the large glass terminal window, looking out at the runway. She could kind of see it now, how all those crazy stories she’d read in her research could be true. Why people couldn’t help but glance at him as they walked past. There was a mystery to him, something intangible, something she didn’t know if she’d be able to grasp. And then he turned and she suddenly found herself staring right into his eyes from across the terminal. A second felt like an hour as she turned away, hoping that he hadn’t seen her but knowing that he had. That was going to make this more difficult, but she relished the challenge. She was going to find out everything about this man, she was going to work out what made him tick. Soon she’d be the single greatest expert on the man who called himself…
Trace Demon.
< *** >
MURPHYS BAR; OUTSIDE
JUNE 14th 2013
A.K.A. Last month.
Trace stood outside of the bar, keeping himself covered from the rain with a humorously large coat. It had been raining for days here, an ominous omen of the man he was shortly going to meet. He should have just barged straight in, punched the guy in the face and shouted “hey, want to help me pull off a coup?”. That’s what he should have done, but instead he’d done something he usually made sure he didn’t – he listened to Wayne McGurk. “Stay outside” he said, “let me talk to him first” he said, “I don’t care if you get pneumonia and die” he said. Okay, maybe he didn’t say that last bit, but Trace was pretty sure he was thinking it. One day soon he and Wayne were going to have a serious falling out, he just had to make sure he didn’t know it was coming.
Wayne McGurk: He’ll see you.
Trace Demon: One day soon me and you are going to have a serious falling out.
Damn it, there goes the element of surprise.
Wayne McGurk: It’s pissing down with rain man, we don’t have time for any of your psychosis.
Trace Demon: It’s not psychosis, I’ve been tested.
Sure that’s a catchphrase on some show. Trace wouldn’t know, the only thing he likes watching on TV is himself beating people up. Oh, and Breaking Bad, that show rocks.
Trace Demon: Still don’t see why he chose this place to meet, I mean he knows who I am; he knows I don’t do these kinds of places anymore. What the hell’s going on in his head?
Wayne McGurk: I’m not even going to try and answer that question man, I told you I’d set you up with a face to face, not that I’d try to explain the intricacies of his mind. I still think this is a bad idea, I mean what’re you trying to do, get yourself stabbed in the bank?
Trace Demon: Your place is not to wonder why Wayne.
Chicks love Tennyson.
Wayne McGurk: Just don’t piss him off, the dude freaks me out when he’s angry.
Oh Wayne, poor deluded Wayne, thinking that anyone gives a damn about your problems. This isn’t about Wayne, this is about finding the right man for the job, about finding the one man Trace wants in his corner more than any other. Because if you’re going to war and you’ve already got two people who hate you on your side what’s the one thing you need? A wildcard. And as Trace made his way through that dusty, disgusting looking bar and saw the man sitting with a glass in hand he knew he’d found exactly who he was looking for.
Reverend Shadow was going to be his wildcard.
Trace Demon: God, meeting in a bar, are you trying to make me relapse?
He pulls a seat out and shakes his head at the bartender who begins to approach. He’s had his problems in the past but he’s not about to relapse in a seedy bar meeting with a guy who looks more like he should be a bond villain than a professional wrestler. Not one of the big bond villains though, one of those sidekicks who are only cool when you’re stoned.
Trace Demon: You look like crap.
Not just looked like crap, he smelled like it too. His clothes were damp, not from the rain outside but from sweat. Trace wondered when the last time he bathed was. Then he realized he was thinking about Reverend Shadow bathing and he wanted to be sick.
Reverend Shadow: Great, the good Samaritan is here. So, you want me to wrestle.
Turns out Wayne had filled him in. Good, he didn’t like wasting time with pointless exposition.
Trace Demon: Wrestle, fight, viciously murder my enemies, whatever you want to call it. I just want you to bring your smelly self, haul it back into that ring and do what you do best, beat people up and look kinda scary while you’re doing it. I mean hell, it’s not like you’ve got anything better to do, not when you’re spending you’re time in digs like this.
By the looks of this place Shadow hadn’t been doing a whole lot since he last left the WFWF other than forget how to use a shower, make money and look like a human being. Actually he’d never been great at two of those three things. We’ll let you figure out which.
Reverend Shadow: Details?
Trace gave a little sarcastic nod, mocking Shadow’s terseness. Sure, Trace wasn’t one to mince words when he was trying to make a point but at least he had the respect to add some dramatic flair.
Trace Demon: You see Shadow, I’ve grown tired of the little power struggle between myself and Xavier Pierce. I've got other aspirations that deserve my time. But I can't simply give him back the company, I can't even continue on as co-owners, it can't end that way, so I'm going to end it the only way I know how. All or nothing, a four on four elimination match for total control of the WFWF. Can you imagine it Reverend, having the owner onside again, just like the last time you were hanging around, stinking up the joint. I could make your dreams a reality, give you whatever you wanted, make you a star again...
And just to prove that dramatic flair is awesome Trace slams his hand down hard on the bar, startling everyone who sat nearby. Probably not the best idea to startle the kind of guys who sit in this bar, they’re likely to stab you right in the neck.
Trace Demon: But only if you help me win this match.
Trace could see the fire light up in the eyes of Shadow, you know, beneath all that spam and disease and stuff. Slowly Shadow held out his hand, wanting to seal the deal with a shake. Trace looked down at the hand, seeing it caked with dirt. And with a sigh, and one more jab…
Trace Demon: I really hope you’ve washed that hand recently.
Trace takes the hand and shakes it, gripping the hand tightly in an attempt at a display of dominance. Probably not the best idea to try and break your new allies hand but there we go, that’s the Trace Demon way. As the two men continued to try and take control of the handshake they stared at each other, realizing in that one single moment that they were more alike than the other would care to admit. But it didn’t matter, the only thing that mattered was that Trace Demon had his wildcard, which meant his hand was the most dangerous hand that could be played.
< *** >
They say you should never burn your bridges, but I’ve always felt that people move faster when there’s a fire coming towards them. I don’t tend to trust people; I find it difficult to put my fate in their hands. I can count the number of people I really trust on one hand and not a single of them will be inside that ring fighting for my stake in the WFWF at Battleground. I don’t trust Penny Shannon, I don’t trust Joe Bishop and I don’t trust Reverend Shadow… but I know that they will fight for me. I know because I have ensured it. You see I don’t do anything without making sure that the odds are stacked in my favour. No matter the risk there is always some semblance of control and I make sure that I am the one with that control. “Oh but Trace” you cry, “How can you control people when they’re so unpredictable?” People aren’t unpredictable; all you need to know is how to manipulate them.
People can be controlled like anything else; you just need to find that one thing that motivates them, that makes them want to hurt someone for you rather than turn their anger on you. That’s why I chose the three people I did. Actually, there were three reasons I chose them. Number one, they’ve got talent, not as much as me, but enough to hang in the ring with the lesser likes of Yukio Blaze and that National Champion whose name is so bad I’m no longer willing to say it. Number two, they’re not afraid to get violent, and that’s what this match is going to be, it’s going to be violent, it’s going to be painful, it’s going to be a bloodbath and I’m going to revel in it and I needed three people who would do the same. And then number three, well number three is simple. I needed three people who I could easily pinpoint their weakness and manipulate it to get what I wanted. And that’s what I did, I found three people who fit the criteria perfectly.
Penny Shannon is a violent b***h. No offence intended girl, I love that about you, that’s why I brought you in in the first place. Penny can kick anyone’s ass be it man, woman or senior citizen, she don’t care, so she’s going to feel right at home stepping foot inside that cage and beating on four utter losers. But the thing about Penny is that she’s too obsessed with protecting her little girl Scarlett, the girl that I put her in charge of. That’s her weakness; her best friend is the one who guarantees her complicity. All I had to do was dangle that idea in front of her, all I had to do was tell her how badly I am going to beat little miss Quinn and Penny Shannon was putty in my hands. I could have had her doing anything to protect Scarlett. So she’s going to step inside that cage knowing that failing to win this match means that not only will I not hold back when I come for the World Heavyweight Championship, but I will do things to that girl that nobody has ever dreamed of. I will do things reserved for the sickest of nightmares, locked away in the darkest abyss. And I won’t shed a damn tear for her, I’ll hold her broken body up and I will tell Penny Shannon that it is her fault. That is why she fights for me.
Joe Bishop is a young, upstart, punk. He’s cocky, he’s stubborn, he’s pig-headed, he believes himself to be better than he truly is. But beneath all of that lies real talent. Joe Bishop may be a pain in the ass but he is a useful pain in the ass, at Battleground he becomes Xavier Pierce’s pain in the ass. I need that, I need that drive and that motivation, that willingness to do anything to make sure that your name is in lights. But whereas that strength is my gain, it is also the weakness by which he falls at my feet. Joe Bishop wants to be a star, and to do that he needs what I have. He wants my International Championship and failing once has not stopped him coming for me again. So I used that, I made it clear that by ensuring my victory he would get exactly what he wanted, he would get another shot at me and my title. I don’t give second chances often so he knows that he has to grasp this one while it is laid in front of him. And he will, he will take hold of this opportunity and he will run with it because he’s got nothing else to run with. That is why he fights for me.
Reverend Shadow. What can be said about the once upon a time legend that hasn’t already been said? The man is a former World Champion, a hall of famer, he is a man who will step in the ring and tear you apart just because he feels like. If he didn’t stink so bad he’d be my kind of cat. Unfortunately he does stink and I’m also more a dog person but whatever, that’s not the point, the point is that he is a vicious son of a b***h at the best of times, and this isn’t the best of times. He’s been kept away from that ring for so long that he’s going to step inside that ring filled with a year of hate, a year of rage, a year of aggression and repressed violence. I saw it in his eyes, he wants to hurt people again and I’m the one who can make that happen. Without me he’ll be stuck sitting in that bar for the rest of his days but with me he can be back in that ring doing what he was always meant to do. I’ve given him the opportunity to make himself a star again. That is why he fights for me.
And I fight just because I can. And I win because I’m the best there is.
Xavier Pierce, you enter Miami with half of the WFWF, you leave with nothing. Because unlike you, I control my team and while yours falls apart, mine will rise.
And I will have it all.
