Post by Deleted on Jun 28, 2014 20:31:52 GMT -5
It’s been close to half a year since he’s stepped foot inside of a wrestling arena ever since the incident. The last time he was inside of an arena rented out by the WFWF was on December 5th at the Consol Energy Center in Pittsburgh. Interestingly enough, he had defeated a Hall of Famer from Pittsburgh to win the International Championship.
Locking himself away from the action following his match, he had wanted to take a breather and tape up during the much anticipated match between Scarlett Quinn and Trace Demon. He had the opportunity of a lifetime to enter the Scars and Stripes rumble. That is until a very deranged man barged into his locker room and decimated him.
Two large men took turns lying in boots to our fallen hero’s cranium. Blood spurting everywhere from an opened gash as the large bearded fellow walked on over and took the International Championship as his own. With no fuss, no match and no paperwork, Solomon Crow deemed himself the new International Champion. Later on that night, the Crow went on to win the Rumble along with three other competitors.
Had he not been taking out of the equation, our hero would’ve gone into the Rumble and would’ve taken the victory. Without any controversy, nor any shenanigans, our hero was going to dump every single member of the WFWF roster over the top rope and punch his golden ticket on the road trip to SuperBrawl.
But alas, was it not in the cards for our hero that night. Following the brutal beating from the hands of the Crow’s Nest, our hero found himself lying on the cold concrete floor in a puddle of his own blood as an emergency medical team rushed into his locker room. Being rolled over onto a stretcher and lifted up into an ambulance was the final chapter of our hero on his crowning night.
------------------------------------
Sun Devil Stadium – Tempe, Arizona – April 24th, 2014 – 11:34 AM
The current WFWF general manager sat in her office chair, behind her desk with paperwork in hand. Later tonight, she will be in charge of the hottest wrestling show on the planet: SuperBrawl. With WFWF stagehands rushing through her office, she had managed to miss the arrival of a certain returning superstar. The large rotund man slowly limped his way to Miss Lila Sleater with a grin.
“Excuse me Lila; can I have a word with you for a minute?”
The general manager looked up at the large bald man and happily told him to take a seat, but he’ll need to make it quick. In just eight hours, the WFWF would be going live on pay-per-view across the globe.
“You have a pre-show scheduled for tonight, and you’re missing a host.”
“Who am I missing? Everybody should be here tonight, Wayne, David and...”
“Rumor has it Devon or Devale or whatever is back in prison, Miss Sleater.”
Lila let out a sigh of frustration, as she has planned for her show to go on unhitched without any difficulties. Of course the one man that the owner of the company had requested to be on the panel had no-showed.
“Well Randel, you seem to do well with the new guys down in developmental. You even got the Jakob Hale kid looking sharp and promising. Now, since I don’t really have anybody else to put into this position... You got yourself a spot on the pre-show. Go down to the seamstress, and she’ll get you suited up.”
Randel got up from his seat with a large smile formed on his face as she shook the general manager’s hand with pleasure. Benjamin limped his way out to the door but was met with one last request from the woman in charge.
“Now Randel, don’t screw anything up...”
“I won’t Miss Sleater...”
Randel continues to walk through the door but turns his head around one last time to address Lila with a grin.
“And if you have any more problems with Trace, I know just the guy who will be glad to fix them for you...”
Randel now leaves the little room that is the makeshift office as Lila goes back to her busy schedule for the day, keeping Randel’s closing sentence in the back of her mind. It could be a wild card.
------------------------------------
Our hero was taken from the Consol Energy Center in the company of red flashing lights speeding down the city streets. He was in the city of bridges, and was transported to the hospital. In which there he embarked on a tear-jerking journey.
Installed in the uncomfortable hospital bed, the tattooed superstar remained unconscious from the brutal beat down from the hands of the Crow. His head beaten in, his nose mangled to the side, his ear lobe hanging by a thread and his brains mashed into one.
Blood continued to spill from an open wound in the gums of his teeth, creating a tsunami of blood that had to be cleaned out and monitored due to the increased risk of a choking hazard. Our hero was beat up and his career was in jeopardy.
Nothing had affected him this much throughout his entire wrestling career. Our hero had been beaten, battered and even engulfed in flames during his lifetime as a professional wrestler. Every single time he had been injured, he had risen again. It made him stronger, faster and a lot tougher.
But now, it had the potential of crippling him for the remainder of his life. His brain had been concussed so tremendously that the doctor had given him only twenty four hours left to live before the fluid swallowed his brain whole and washed it away at sea.
For twenty four hours, our fallen hero had been laying there without anybody coming to his lonesome. That was until aging partner walked into the room with tears rushing down his face. He had spilt a heartfelt goodbye to our hero, including memories of the two teaming over in Japan and trying to take over the wresting world by storm.
This man was Randel Benjamin and he was not ready to see his best friend, his protégé, his tag team partner, and his family leave this cold hard world. For without our hero, Benjamin would’ve never made it to the WFWF and would have never ever received as many chances as he has had throughout his professional career.
Benjamin may have been forty years older than his dying partner, but he had always felt a connection with our hero. It was a connection that only twin brothers would have. Our hero knew what Benjamin was going to do before he even did it. And the same occurred for Benjamin as he knew our hero better than anybody else.
That connection had led them to twenty tag team reigns over in the land of the rising sun. A career high for the duo, that was until they decided to leave Japan and pursue an even bigger dream in conquering America. They had ditched everything to fly back home and to find themselves contracted to the biggest wrestling federation in the world: WFWF.
------------------------------------
Sun Devil Stadium – Tempe, Arizona – April 25th, 2014 – 12:34 AM
Following the huge pay-per-view broadcast that was SuperBrawl, Randel Benjamin found himself backstage with a select few members of the WFWF developmental roster. Benjamin sat on the chair as the young lions gathered around him, listening to his every word.
Benjamin continued to talk about his journey to the WFWF and his actual SuperBrawl debut. His debut where he was bested by Cam Nitta in the unforgiving Abe Vigoda Memorial Cup. It was such a memorial that Abe Vigoda decided to show up himself. Let the record books show that Vigoda pulled a fast count and screwed Benjamin of the victory.
As Benjamin went on with his story, the clicking of powerful heels emerged from the distance as Randel Benjamin got up from his chair and stood in front of the pack of hungry wolves. As Miss Lila Sleater approached the flock, every single member of the guys stuck out their hands to shake.
Lila appreciated the respectful gesture but she had one specific task in mind, and she needed Benjamin to follow her into her office. The pear shaped brawler obliged with her request as the two locked themselves away from any snooping ears around the backstage area.
“Miss Sleater...”
“Just call me Lila, Randel.”
“Okay, Lila, what in the hell are we doing here?”
Lila pulled off her bag from her shoulders as she pulled out a briefcase. The small briefcase contained around five hundred dollars in cash and a very lucrative contract with the WFWF. A guaranteed million dollars per year, with added pay-per-view bonuses and twenty five percent of all merchandise deals. Included was airfare paid to all shows, and transportation included on the bill.
“Randel, I want you to take this very lucrative briefcase and I want you to go directly to him and offer him this. I need this whole thing with Trace dealt with.”
Randel snatched the bag from Miss Sleater’s hands and flashed a smile so big that it made his stomach seem miniscule.
“Miss Lila, I want to thank you for this opportunity. He needs this.”
------------------------------------
Our hero was on could nine when he made his eventual debut with the Wrestling Figs Wrestling Federation in early 2012. Fighting multiple competitors and being the loudmouth manager for his mentor, our hero wasn’t satisfied enough with just being there.
He was young and he was hungry for this opportunity. He had traveled the world honing his craft to become the type of wrestler you’d see in the published magazines. The type of wrestler that online marks like Cheese Meltzer would rave on about and dream about becoming the world champion one day.
Our hero worked hard for that, but he had his way with authority.
Enter a man named Xavier Pierce who was in total control of the wrestling federation. As the owner, Mister Pierce made some questionable calls during his stay, but he was well respected by some of the veterans in the back.
But things were different went it came to our hero in Xavier’s federation. The owner of the fed didn’t like our hero on a personal level; therefore our hero was held back and had nowhere to go...
Except for a very powerful microphone on live television! He had no care in the world for what was going to happen to him on a professional level, but he wanted that big break into superstardom. The same level of respect that roster members like Phillip Schneider, David Brennan, Drakz and Michael Kyzer were held on a pedestal. When our hero grabbed that microphone, he let it all loose.
He made it clear that he was standing in the ring running his mouth due to Xavier’s poor booking of the federation’s tag team division. The current tag team champions at the time, Alex Sean and DGX, were both nowhere to be found in or around the WFWF. And this was a problem.
For weeks, our hero had challenged Mister Xavier Pierce to do something about it. And Xavier Pierce had ignored our loudmouthed hero each and every single week up until his breaking point. The match was set for the pay-per-view extravaganza entitled “Its Super Effective”. In the monumental clash, our hero and Randel Benjamin would challenge the leader of Camp Xavier and an Irish Drunken Bastard.
From bell to bell, Thunder and Ripp Jackson absolutely decimated our hero and his mentor. There was no room for improvement during the match as Thunder and Jackson gave their all in a quick amount of time to put down our hero and Randel Benjamin. To top it all off, the referee hit the mat three times as Camp Xavier had won the WFWF Tag Team Championships.
And within moments of the closing bell, our hero had found himself beaten, battered and jobless in less than twenty four hours.
------------------------------------
Sun Devil Stadium – Tempe, Arizona – April 25th, 2014 – 12:56 AM
Randel Banjamin was pacing around backstage avoiding any and all federation crew cleaning up from the giant pay-per-view event. Sitting on top of the crate to his left was the holy grail of a briefcase that controlled his protégé’s destiny within the wrestling world. Randel wanted to call his best friend, but at this moment and time, Demento’s phone number slipped his mind.
“Uhh... mister Benjamin, could you please move? We’re hauling around the stage parts right now. And to be frank, you’re in our way.”
The stagehand had startled Randel, waking him up from his deep thoughts. Benjamin was trying to remember the number so hard that he had veins bulging out of his head and a sweat going. Naturally, Benjamin didn’t hear the crew member behind him.
“Mister Benjamin?”
The stagehand had tapped the much larger Randel on the shoulder to get his attention, but alas was it a horrible idea. Randel turned around in a very quick manner as he leveled the crew member. His hat flying off his head and finally coming back to earth about a foot away. The staff crumbled to the ground immediately with blood trickling from his nose.
“Oh god! Dude, I’m so sorry. Don’t frighten me like that. Are you okay?”
The stagehand didn’t reply to the large man’s questions as he lay unconscious on the concrete floor. His body all contorted with his arm over his body and his nose caved into his skull, the staff member stayed down.
“Oh f*ck. I don’t think there’s any cameras around here. Maybe somebody won’t notice if I... Oh there.”
Randel waltzed on over to an open crate, with the most conspicuous spring in his step, and rummaged through the items. He pulled out and threw behind him a rubber duck, inflatable pool items and then finally a large blue tarp that would cover and protect a swimming pool.
“This might work...”
Randel unfolded the tarp and swiftly threw it into the air over top of the knocked out crew member. The tarp unraveled in air as it started to float down, quickly approaching the ground as if it was a UFO capturing an unsuspecting cow. The large piece of cloth draped itself over the stagehand, covering him from head to toe. As the man became engulfed by this blue plastic, Randel quickly broke out into whistle as he grabbed the briefcase and walked away from the scene.
“Now, where was I? Oh yeah, the number.”
------------------------------------
Following his release from the biggest wrestling federation in the world, our hero had found himself depressed and broken down in a way that he had never felt before.
He wanted to continue to pursue his dream, but he had just been expelled from the dream job that he had worked to get for years. He had reached that level, only for it to be taken away from his in the snap of a finger.
This depression had caused our hero to fall off the deep end. In very violent ways, our hero had gone back down to the independent level of pro wrestling and completely wiped the floor with every competitor he could.
Whichever match he had competed in, our hero would take each and every single competitor and drag their eyes slowly across the top ring rope to burn the organ of vision. As he blinded his opponent, he would latch onto the fingers and separate them as much as possible, forcing pain to travel up and down their arms. And as the fingers were separated, he would drag a blade across the sensitive part between the fingers. As the webbing would bleed, our hero would pour salt into their wounds.
And sit there and watch them scream in agony, pain and torture.
But the pain, the agony and the torture wouldn’t stop in the ring; it would follow our hero back home to Toronto. As he continued to lose his mind from the great depression that engulfed him, our hero had begun downing painkillers. Mixed in with those painkillers was straight whiskey, burning his throat with no care in the world.
He had continued to keep this trend going for weeks, each and every day the amount of painkillers and whiskey increasing until one day our hero had collapsed in his apartment, all alone. With no family, nor any friends, our hero laid on his floor, broken and battered, as he felt the pace of his heart slowly diminishing.
------------------------------------
Some Highway – Tempe, Arizona – April 25th, 2014 – 1:30 AM
Riding in his white pickup truck, Randel Benjamin was chewing down on an all beef wiener dog, complete with a smiley face, and was chugging his favorite drink: concealed beer in a soda cup. With his hands full, and his knees on the steering wheel, he zipped down the busy highway with ease. Nobody in front of him, and nobody behind him as he jammed away to some heavy metal Johnny Cash.
Beside him was the very heavy and important briefcase that Miss Lila Sleater had given him. Inside of it contained a very lucrative contract, in which it had one destination: Randel’s protégé. Benjamin had laid eyes on the case again as it hit him! He had remembered Dave Demento’s phone number!
“Is it too late to call?”
“Why yes it is, Randel.”
“But it’s important.”
“You could leave it to the morning”
“But Dave has wanted this.”
“He can wait till the morning...”
“Oh you, always making me smile. I think I might just finish you and call...”
“Randel, wait!”
“What is it, Cervezo?”
“Te amo, carino.”
“I love you too.”
As Randel proceeded to finish his beer and throw the empty plastic cup out of the window, he had pulled out his Nokia flip phone from his back pocket. He flipped the phone, and gently tried to push the right buttons. His humongous sausage fingers proved his time difficult, but he had successfully punched in the number.
“Hey Dave, it’s Randel, I got a very lucrative...”
“Thank you for calling Tech Support, sir. My name is Rajadesh, I’ll be your helper for the day. You currently have thirty four people waiting ahead of you. Please hold.”
And with that, Randel had flipped his phone back down, pissed off that he can’t remember his buddy’s number. He cranks up the radio some more as he focuses on the road trip home, leaving his thoughts to wander off into the empty space of his mind.
------------------------------------
As he had been found by his mentor, our hero was immediately rushed to the nearest hospital. Confined to a bed, he had grown unpleasant with himself inside of the hospital gown and the constant care from the nurses and doctors that surrounded him.
He had become tired of living in the hospital, and in due time he had requested his release. Fortunately for our hero’s well being, the doctors in charge wouldn’t release him to the open world before all the alcoholic fluids and the traces of painkillers had left his body.
While kept in the hospital, he had been inscribed to the alcoholic and drug dependency program that was included in the hospital. Our hero would go down to the small room among the others that joined him and he would listen.
He had listened to everybody, and all of their stories. Some of them were being repeated each and every single week, while some of them would only be told once in the whole month. But during his whole time there, for three hours a week, our hero would completely stop whatever he was doing and would absorb the stories as if he were a young child learning from school.
There was a mother who had four children, all under the age of five, that were taken away from her. Her husband left her with the children for a younger woman, but this mother always went to work from nine to five to provide a paycheck for her family and put a meal on her table. Until one day where she had enough and she swallowed as many pills as she could. Dropping down to her bathroom floor, and waking up alone without her children.
There was also a war veteran who had returned home from deployment and as he became older, the thoughts of his fellow comrades falling down to their last breath continued to replay in his mind. Over and over again, with no stop. He had one way of escaping this evil replay in his mind and it was with booze. He continued to use his method of escaping until his liver started failing. He ended up in this hospital, with constant liver pain, and wound up deceased in a few weeks.
And as he continued on with these meetings, our hero had realized that he was still young and had the whole world in front of him. He vowed to stop abusing his body, and he promised each and every one of those members in those meetings that he would go back and live his dream, to the applause of every single member of the dependency community.
He wants this for all of those who have been told that they can’t fulfill their dreams, for those who have been shot down while trying to live their dreams, and for those who continue to have their dreams.
And it all starts with Trace Demon and Joe Bishop.
------------------------------------