Post by Rated R on May 19, 2017 18:32:45 GMT -5
I sit, icepack pressed to my head, staring at the monitor in front of me. I marched here straight after the match, stopping only for the means to quell the dull ache where my skull met the metal turnbuckle. No time to relish in utterly destroying little Scarlett for the second time. She’ll go running off to daddy again, that is when she remembers who she is. Might take a while after I bashed her head upside the announce table. But that’s not important right now. What’s important is Joe Bishop flying through the air and crashing down on top of David Brennan.
…1…
…2…
Ooh, so close, but not quite kid. Got to try harder than that.
”Um, Mr. Demon?"
The voice comes through the door after three nervous knocks. A stagehand, the pimply teenager I screamed at earlier probably.
"F*ck off!"
The look on Bishop’s face is a god damned picture. He thought he had it, but I knew better. You learn to pick up on things like this, on the breathing of a downed opponent, of the flicker in their eye. You might not see it in the ring, when the adrenaline is pumping, but from here, with the benefit of some peace and quiet, it’s clear that Brennan wasn’t going down to that. And then suddenly Brennan’s flipped him overhead only for Bishop to land like a bloody cat on the ropes. Good play, not something I taught him that’s for sure. I don’t go for all that flippy sh*t. Brennan’s too quick for him though, figures, even before he kicked the booze he was smarter in the ring than most. I listen to the crowd start one of their asinine duelling chants, as if what they say matters at all. But that’s what happens when the stupid get arrogant. You could say the same for a few around here.
More knocking at the door, this time I recognise the voice. The WFWF’s head doctor, old dude, big bushy beard, looks a lot like ZZ Top.
”Trace, we need to assess that head injury."
"And I said f*ck off before I gut you."
It’s not a threat, just matter of fact. That’s why they fall silent outside the door, not wanting to test my resolve. I turn back to the screen and… wait, is he… f*cking c*cky little sh*t, Needle Damage. He used Drakz’s move again his former f*ck buddy. Ain’t nobody telling me Joe didn’t get that kind of thing from running with me, adding insult to injury. Then he’s up top again, flying through the air and crashing down, the Inverted Decido Spiritus. The door edges open, I grab the nearest thing to hand, a water bottle, and lob it at the door. ZZ Top has to yank his head back to avoid my aim.
…1…
…2…
3. And the crowd go wild.
I watch as they hand him the title, staring intensely at the boy, no, the man, I dragged from his eternal midcard spot to where he is now. The WFWF World Champion. If I gave a sh*t about other people I’d be proud right now, but as the case may be I’m merely itching for my next fight. I head for the door, casually open it and emerge out into a hallway of staff, Doctor Top glancing at me, half expecting another outburst.
"Ready when you are Doc."
I’ll be seeing you soon Joe. Real soon.
< *** >
Trace Demon Presents
The Ties That Bind
Chapter One
Goodbye For Now
"Will you stop rubbing my head!"
"But it’s good luck."
"Now when I stab you in the eye with the needle in my arm it won’t."
"Alright, chill, god."
After Faith’s last chemo session her hair started to thin. She took it on the chin, then took a shaver to her hair and shaved the whole thing off. Not gonna lie, it’s not exactly what you’d call a ‘look’, but I get it. More dignity this way than having to go through the whole thinning out thing. The girl wears it with a sense of pride, and I sit here, in this hospital, with much the same feeling towards her.
"You want to make a joke about my head, don’t you?"
"I promised I wouldn’t, and I’m nothing if not a man of my word. When it comes to blood, at least."
Four sessions in and she’s… well, she’s coping. There’s pain, a lot of it, the first few days after. I’ve spent entire nights sat up in the sitting room, Faith shaking on the couch despite complaining it’s too hot. She tries to argue that she’s okay, that I should go sleep, but it’s not gonna happen. I’ll sleep during the day, when Emily and Caitlyn can keep an eye on her, get her what she needs, call the ambulance if things turn bad. Thankfully that’s not happened yet. She’s got another two sessions to go before we’ll have any idea whether it’s actually shrinking the cancerous little d*cks, but for right now no news is good news, as much as that saying is ever actually true.
"So chivalrous."
"What can I say, I’m a good guy."
A nurse pokes her head in the door as she wanders past, under the guise of checking in on Faith. It’s bullsh*t of course. Word got out of my little wander down to Anna Anders’ room a few weeks back and now Doc Brown’s got me in watch. Fair enough. The guy covers me enough that I can at least give him this. Anna’s still unresponsive, but she’s not braindead, so they’re still expecting her to wake up. I’m no doctor, nor do I care all that much, to understand the specifics.
"So Axel’s gonna be staying at the house for the time being, just to make sure you’re coping alright."
"You mean to make sure I don’t die, right? I told you he doesn’t have to bother, I can go back to the compound, the women will keep an eye on me just as well as you do."
"And you know I’d rather you were around family, and as long as I’m covering all the medical bills-"
"Yeah, yeah, I get it, it’s fine, Axel can babysit if he really wants."
"Oh he’s thrilled at the prospect. You know how much he loves responsibility. Either way I’ll fly back in between shows, and I won’t miss your sessions. Benefit of the jet, y’know?"
I’d rather not be going at all, but the WFWF’s decided they want to hit up the Canadian market for a few shows and like me or not (you do, don’t lie), I’m their biggest marketable Canadian star. And biggest star in general if we’re being honest.
"You’re still taking Emily and Eliza over, right?"
I nod. Usually I’d rather be alone on the road, peace and quiet’s hard to come by when you’re a father to a four year old. But this is an extended trip, and the many women in my life all mutually decided it wouldn’t be a good idea to leave her behind when she’s ‘developing’, whatever the f*ck that means. Emily’s coming with to play babysitter, and because I’m paying all her expenses not that that’s anything new.
"Good, because I rang Damon and told him you were going to go and see him while you were over there. He’d love to meet them both."
"You did what now?!"
"Hey! I’m doing chemo here, I’ve got cancer, you’re not allowed to be angry at me."
"Who says?"
"The world."
"Well f*ck the world. What possessed you to do something you know full well I’d kick off about in the first place? I don’t want to see him or that mopey brood he calls a family."
"Well like it or not he’s our uncle, and he’s not met either of the girls yet so either you go or I’ll find a way to make things very uncomfortable for you."
Whoever told you that siblings look out for each other was a god damned liar.
"Now, when do you fly out?"
"Friday night. Would have gone Thursday but I’ve got to see a man about this ridiculous tag match Lila’s thrown me in."
"Right, this David Brennan guy."
"Well… not quite."
< *** >
You know honestly Joe I thought it’d be a little while before we met again, at least in that ring. See I thought that Lila Sleater would be smart enough to keep us apart, that even she wasn’t so stupid that she’d put her new golden goose inside the ring with the one man who will willingly wring it’s neck. But what can I say, I’ve underestimated the stupidity of people before and they always find a way to surprise me. So… here we are again. Just two shows after we last clashed, just two shows after you beat me. I should congratulate you, not just for that but for that shiny belt you’ve around your waist. It’s been a long road, hasn’t it?
I remember when I first met you Joe, so full of promise, so full of potential and now it’s finally realised. You did what I always knew you were capable of doing and you made it to the top. Well done. But there’s something that people like you don’t know. People like you who’ve never been to the top before, who’ve never stood above everyone else with a shiny target over their shoulder. It’s hard being the best, it’s hard being the champion, it’s hard… being the target. See Joe you want to make wrestling great again? You want to make the WFWF mean something? It’s a noble thought, a goal worth striving for, but there’s something that you’ve never considered, something that you’ve never thought about.
What makes people like me? You look at the men who have stood at the top and you’ll see a worrying trend. Trace Demon, Drakz, Michael Kyzer, Phillip Schneider, Alex Sean, DGX, EBR, the list goes on and one. The one thing that we’ve all got in common? We’ve all stood at the top and we’ve all felt what it’s like to be targeted by people want our spots. You see Joe it’s hard being the best because people don’t like it, they don’t like thinking that somebody is better than them. And so they come after you, they try to hurt you and try to topple you. They try to make a name off of your suffering. So you get paranoid, you stop trusting people, you develop in the back of your head. You become bitter and twisted and broken. You’ll do anything to keep your spot, to keep that title around your waist. You want to make this a better place Joe? You’re gonna have to get over that curse first. Problem you’ve got is you’ve already got people targeting you.
Brennan and me first off. Only a matter of time before others step up. Worst of all do you really think Frank Lynn is gonna stand in your shadow long enough for you to make a difference? When he realises that cracking your skull open is the quickest way for him to get himself a world title shot? Nah, because at the end of the day he’s just like everybody else. And so are you. Sure you beat Brennan, sure, you even beat me, but the one person standing in your way, the one person who’s going to stop you now from carrying out this little revolution of yours… is you. And you will fall into the darkness just like everybody else. Now you’ve got a taste of what it’s like to be the champion you’ll start doing anything and everything to keep it. You’ll start doing whatever it takes to keep that title around your waist and you’ll become just like everybody else.
I’m gonna watch you fall Joe, I’m gonna watch you self-destruct and become the next great villain in the WFWF. And then somebody else will come along, bright eyed and bushy tailed, and they’ll start talking about how they’re gonna make the WFWF better and to do that they’ve got to topple the big bad Joe Bishop. I’m gonna watch that Joe, and I’m gonna enjoy every minute of it but none more so than the moment I get to stand in front of you and tell you…
I told you so.
< *** >
Chapter Two
A Friendly Conversation
Nowadays it feels like every f*cker and their dog owns a wrestling company, or a gym or a school or some nonsense like that. Used to be that wrestlers used their free time to get drunk, f*ck a few ring rats and make other questionable life decisions. An easier time, a purer time. I suppose I’m just as much a part of the problem but let’s be honest here, at least I’m qualified to be training the next generation. Hall of famer, multiple world championship reigns in various different promotions, a ten year career of success. That means something. And then there’s places like this, where people with clearly low standards come to be trained by somebody who has never done anything in professional wrestling.
I mean honestly, the only ‘legacy’ Frank Lynn is leaving behind is how to be utterly forgettable.
That’s why it doesn’t surprise me when all eyes immediately turn in my direction the moment I saunter through the doors. It must be a rare sight in this place to see someone with some actual success under their belt. Shame really, wonder what he’s charging? Maybe I’m not giving Lynn the credit he deserves, he must be a pretty good con man to make all this money while literally giving nothing of worth back.
"Umm… Trace Demon, right?"
"The one and only. Can I help you?"
"I was, um, going to ask you the same question. I’m Sarah, I help run the place."
Now usually this’d be the point where I’d turn on the charm, try and get a f*ck out of this whole trip, but I’ve got Emily and Eliza waiting out in the car, not too pleased at having to make this detour on the way to the jet. That and the fact that this chick’s been hanging around with Lynn so no idea what kind of venereal disease she’s got.
"I’m here to see Frank Lynn actually. I was led to believe I’d find him here."
"Sure, but do you have an appointment? I thought Frank would have mentioned it if you’d be coming in."
"I don’t do appointments. Ah, there he is now. Franky boy!"
Lynn’s eyes go wide at the sight of me, probably a bit of a mix between shock and anger. After all in his head who am I to be walking into his place of business. I don’t take any offence, the sight of me doesn’t often bring with it good fortune for others.
"You got a minute? Got some business to discuss."
He’s still trying to process it. Pretty funny, watching him work out how to handle my sudden appearance. He’s not used to mindgames, that much is obvious.
"Um, Frank?"
"It’s fine Sarah. We’ll be in my office."
He’s still scowling as he stomps off. I can’t resist a quick flash of a grin to Sarah, a look that very much says I’m going to
up your boss. It’s the little things like that, like the look of concern of her face, that makes life worth living. I follow after Lynn, following him into his dull looking office. I’m expecting the slam of the door as it echoes behind me and I swivel on the spot, still grinning, to face this ridiculous Thunderbird.
"What do you want?"
"Aw come on Frank, can’t a guy visit someone he doesn’t care about without his motives being called into question? That hurts Frank, really, it does."
"Tell me what you want or I’ll throw you out myself."
"While I’d love to see you try Franky, I’m not here to cause any trouble. Just here to make sure you realise what you’ve gotten yourself into."
"What?"
I lean against his desk, though from the height the chair’s been set to I can tell Sarah’s the one who does most of the work in this room. It’s cheap wood too, not surprising from Frank Lynn, that’s him all over. If you had to describe this guy in any two confusing metaphorical words it’d be cheap wood.
"This whole thing. You and Joe Bishop. I get that it’s pretty exciting, the idea that you’re making a difference, but you’re smart enough to know that you don’t belong, right?"
"You’re mind games won’t work on me Trace."
"Mind games? Oh you’ve got me all wrong! I’m not trying to talk you out of the match or anything like that, in fact I’m looking forward to crushing your skull beneath my boot. No, that’s not why I’m here. On this rare occasion I’m being entirely altruistic. In fact it’s not even got anything to do with you really. The reason I’m here is because I’ve got a lot invested in Joe Bishop, and I’d hate to see anything happen to him before I got my chance to do it personally, one on one."
"Then it’s a good thing he’s got me watching his back, isn’t it?"
Oh the poor, deluded fool. What is it with rookies and thinking that everything they say is tough and impactful? Honestly I’ve usually forgotten whatever it is you’ve said before you’ve even finished saying it.
"Well, that’s kind of my concern. Look Frank, I’m not saying you’re not talented but… well, you’re just not at our level, y’know? No offence, but me, Joe, Brennan, we’re top tier and you’re just… not. And that’s okay, you’ve only been around for a year, you’ve got time to get better. Maybe one day, when we’re all gone, you’ll be ready to step up, but right now that’s just not gonna happen. And I’m worried that you’re gonna end up costing Joe when it really counts. You don’t want that, d’you?"
"Joe warned me you’d do something like this."
It doesn’t matter what he says now, because there was that moment of hesitation, just the slightest look of doubt in his eyes. I’m a lot of things, good and bad, but the one thing I do better than anybody else is read people. You have to if you’re going to manipulate them all, lead them in your merry dance. I know what people are thinking, and Frank Lynn is doubting himself. He was doing it even before I stepped foot in this building.
"He told me you’d try to make me feel like the weak link, that I don’t belong in this match, and he was right. He also told me you’d only do it because you felt threatened, because you know that he can beat you."
"He said that, did he? That he could beat me, not that you could. He’s smart, our Bishop, isn’t he? He knows the score."
"No, that’s not-"
"Don’t worry about it Frank. You’ve told me everything I need to know. I meant it when I said I was being altruistic this time. I’ve got nothing against you. I mean I don’t like you, but I don’t like most people. I’d just hate to see you spoil this little revolution you’ve got your heart set on, all because you were too arrogant to accept that you’re just not quite good enough yet. But hey, what do I know, I’m only a ten year veteran, right?"
I push myself away from the desk, go to pass Lynn, who’s struggling for words. Usually he’s a talker, spouting out all this talk about how ready he is, but the truth is he isn’t ready, and he knows it. He’s pushed the thought down, probably helped by Joe’s positive reinforcement, but it was there, lingering. Just needed a little help is all. Self-doubt always does. Good thing I was here really.
"Good talk Frank."
It takes him too long to find his voice, because I’m already out the door. He stands in it, shouting across the room to me, but I don’t turn back. You never turn back.
"You won’t win Trace! Joe’s going to change it all, he’s going to make this company a better place! You’ll be forgotten!"
"All this talk about what Joe Bishop is gonna do! That’s your problem Lynn, you’re nothing by yourself! Grow some balls, be a man and for god sake get some real coaches in here to train these kids before they turn out like you!"
I don’t turn around, I didn’t really need to say it at all, but I can’t help getting in the last verbal jab in a room full of his students. Because they’ll all see it, they’ll all know, Frank Lynn lost the argument and his nerve and when he loses to two despicable villains in Canada they’ll all be sat at their screens thinking the same thing.
What does Frank Lynn even bring to the table in the first place?
< *** >
I find it amusing that Joe Bishop has tried to distance himself from me so much, yet all he’s done since he’s been back is follow in my footsteps. See all he’s done since coming back is shout about his revolution, about how he’s going to change the WFWF, make it better. Now it wasn’t that long ago that I was the one preaching about revolution. But that’s fine, messages get taken on all the time, people take up the baton and continue with the mission of their heroes. What I don’t understand is how Joe Bishop can preach about how he’s not like the rest of us… yet he’s doing exactly what I did and taking in naive little gullible nobodies and using them for his cause.
That’s right Joe, you’re not fooling me, I see exactly what you’re doing with poor little Frank Lynn. Let’s be honest Joe, people rarely team with others on their level because then they become a threat. Look at what’s happened with the New Epoch. I mean d’you see Drakz around here? Or is he off injured yet again because of Michael Kyzer? Then there’s Rated X, that ended up if I remember correctly with one of those idiots getting f*cking shanked. No, groups only work when there is a leader and followers. All this talk you get of people in teams being on the same level… well let’s face it, it’s just a load of bullsh*t. And you know that Joe because it was one of the lessons I taught you. See I didn’t bring you in to The Final Revolution because I thought you were on my level, it’s because I knew you were just below it. You were good, but not good enough to ever stop what I was doing if that ever took your fancy.
And now you do the same thing with Frank Lynn. I’m sorry to tell you Frank but Joey boy is taking advantage of you. And I know this because I’d have done the same thing. See you’re good… but you’re not great, and you’re certainly not a threat to the likes of Joe Bishop. Which also means you’re not a threat to the likes of Trace Demon or David Brennan. Frank I get it, you believe in what Joe’s doing, you believe in making the WFWF better for people like you, people who just want to wrestle, people who don’t have the brains to play games. That’s fine, not everyone does. But my problem is that you seem perfectly happy grabbing on to his boots and letting him drag you slowly up the mountain. Now the reason I’ve got a problem is that I can’t quite figure out whether you know just how inconsequential you are. Do you know that Bishop’s using you because you’re not quite good enough? Or are you delusional enough to think you’re on the same level?
I mean I’ve seen stranger things than that, trust me. Delusions happen. But Frank, I don’t want you getting the wrong idea here, I’d hate to see you step above your station and get yourself hurt. And I’m not just talking about this match because we both know that you’re gonna get hurt, I mean let’s all accept you’re the fall guy here. No I’m talking about when you inevitably turn on Joe, because we’ve all been in this business long enough to know how this works, and you get yourself beaten up the same way Joe did when he turned on me. See there are leaders and there are followers and you’re a follower. To use the same boring cliched chess analogy that always seems to come around Bishop he’s the king, you’re the pawn and the only reason you’re here is to sacrifice yourself so he can survive.
Now if you’ve accepted that, if you’re happy being that guy, then that’s fine. I won’t question it, I won’t try to get inside your head and twist it, I’ll let you get on with things and let you get beaten up every week so Joe can stay looking strong, because our precious champion has to look strong doesn’t he, I’ll let you go through the motions and let you rise up using Bishop’s name and then fall all the way back down when either you get too big headed or he gets sick of carrying you… or, I’ll give you one chance, one chance to change your fate. Step aside Frank. Don’t even bother turning up. Leave Joe to get crushed under my boot and Brennan’s ego and go back to being a Thunderbird with your best friend, if he’ll take you back that is, and save yourself some pain.
It’ll be better for all of us.
< *** >
Chapter Three
The Lie
I own a house in Canada, just outside of Toronto. I bought it a few years back, when I was thinking about moving back there with Alexa, just after Eliza was born. Alexa was never a fan of the hustle of Los Angeles, so I figured I’d buy the place and whenever we needed to getaway it’d be there, when we needed it. And then Alexa died because some sh*t-heel skipped a red light. And you wonder why I’m so apathetic.
But anyway, that’s where we’ve been staying for the past couple of days. Me, Emily and Eliza, letting Eliza get used to the Canadian air. Me and Emily are right at home up here, we grew up in the cold, but Eliza’s spent her short four years in the heat of LA, so the temperature drop has taken a little getting used to. But kids are quick to adapt.
It’s just over an hours drive from the house to Hamilton, where my not-so-dearly departed father’s brother lives. I’ve made a habit of not coming back to the place I grew up all that often, last time was for my mothers funeral in fact, when I discovered Emily. Since then I’ve given it a wide berth, not because of the memories or anything like that, just because I don’t have the time to waste on pointless trips to Nowhere, Ontario. Regardless, Eliza fell asleep after five minutes in the car, always amazes me how she does that. I travel so much you’d think I’d be able to sleep anywhere. And to be honest I can, as long as it’s stationary. Put me in a moving vehicle and I’m wide awake the entire trip.
Emily sits beside me, headphones in, watching whatever it is nineteen year old girls watch. Not gonna pretend I know, I barely keep up with TV myself. She knows that the one time I don’t like to talk is when I’m driving, especially not after Alexa, so she keeps herself occupied, waiting for us to pull up outside…
We’re here, Damon’s house. Thankfully not in the same part of Hamilton I grew up in. No, significantly nicer, considerably more well off. Though even the slums of Canada are better than most parts of America, let’s be honest. You might be surprised to know I’ve got an uncle, or any family at all outside of the immediate one that so often surrounds me. There’s not much of it beyond that, just Damon, my fathers brother. Yes, Damon Demon, I know, I’ve made all the jokes there are to make. He wasn’t around much when I was a kid, or ever really, he and my father didn’t get along. Strange that, my dad being such an upstanding member of society and all. But he had his reasons, which he kept to himself, but secrets have a way of getting out, especially in a house with a drunk at it’s helm.
I park up opposite the house and climb out of the car, looking over it, wondering why the hell I just didn’t ignore Faith’s pressuring and skip the trip altogether. But here I am, and it’s too late to turn back now.
"Huh, nicer than I was expecting."
Emily’s on the far side of the car, leaning on the hood.
"What, you thought it’d be a hovel because he’s a Demon?"
"Well, it’d be more exciting than being back in suburban Canada, that’s for sure. You want me to wake Eliza up?"
"Be my guest."
I look back up at the house, thinking of how different things could have been. A second later I’m bored of the thought and forget about it. The door opens, they must have been watching out for us. Damon stands in the doorway, fifty five years of regret and self-loathing in the flesh. I wonder if he knows that I know, if he ever found out that his brother let the cat out of the bag? I think about bringing it up, just for the chaos it’d cause. Maybe, if it’s as boring as I’m expecting, I’ll do just that.
"You ready to meet Uncle Damon Eliza?"
It’d be cute if it was true, but it’s not. Damon isn’t her uncle, he’s her grandfather. That’s the dirty little secret of the Demon family, one in a very long list. Damon is my father.
"Trace, you ready?"
"Sure, let’s go."
On with the show.
< *** >
I am not traditionally what you would call a team player. I’ve got this habit, this tendency, some would say an addiction to turning on everybody who stands beside me. Scarlett, Penny, Wayne, Nikki, Thunder, Saku… remember him? Nah, me neither. Even our boy Joe. I can’t keep a tag partner because quite frankly I don’t play well with others. No shame in it, I’ll be the first to admit I can be somewhat fickle, my mind jumps from one thing to another and to be honest I just get bored of it and I lash out and I hurt the people who think I’m their friend. A lot of the time I do it because it gets me something I want, others just because I feel like it. And y’know after a while you get this reputation and people just kinda assume that you can’t be trusted and they just stop wanting to work with you. That’s life y’know, that’s fine by me. But it does mean that it’d take someone pretty damn crazy to actually stand by my side and not expect me to stab in the back.
David Brennan is not that kind of crazy. David Brennan is in fact a very smart, competent and talented wrestler. He is one of the few men who have something close to my respect. See me and Brennan both have a few things in common, addiction among them, and I know full well that he is not stepping inside that ring expecting me to be a team player. He is not stepping inside that ring with the intention of trusting me. It’s just not how it’s gonna play out. But see I don’t need David Brennan to trust me, it doesn’t matter to me if David Brennan trusts me. And I know full well that Joey boy and his Thunderbird pal are going to try and play up that distrust, they’re gonna try and drive a wedge between me and Brennan and that don’t matter much to me either. I don’t need David Brennan to trust me. All I need is for him to show up.
Brennan, you’re a great wrestler and if you ask me you should be the WFWF World Heavyweight Champion. As it stands you’re not, and you’re not gonna be unless you can beat Joe Bishop. Which means you need me, the same way I need you, to be at my best. Luckily for you I always am. That means all you have to do is show up, be your usual badass, slightly grating self, and we won’t have any problems inside or outside of that ring. As long as you provide the kind of performance I expect of you then we’re gonna get along just fine. Really the only reason I’ll have to beat the sh*t out of you is if you let us down, but I really don’t think that’s gonna happen.
So then the question becomes, Joe and Franky, is whether any part of you really thinks you can topple Trace Demon and David Brennan when they’re on the same side. Because this match, to you anyway, is about good against evil, right? Me and Brennan are the bad guys trying to ruin your celebration and you’re the heroes, here to save us from our corruption and our sin and our misdeeds. But this isn’t a film, the heroes don’t always win. Joe, you beat me and you beat Brennan. That deserves a pat on the back. But that was one on one, and even then it’s the only time you’ve ever had my number. This time I have the best in the business, well, second place at least, at my side and you’ve got the f*cking Thunderbird. You know you’re outgunned.
What happens when we step in the ring at The Climb is very, very simple. Myself and David Brennan beat you. We hurt you, we tear you apart, maybe we break little Frank Lynn. We ruin your parade and we end your revolution before it even begins. You think you’re going to make a difference just because you’re the champion? That’s not how it works, because the monsters don’t just go into hiding because you’ve won a few matches. You’re on my turf now Bishop, those fans are gonna cheer my name, just like they did the last time we were in the great white north, and they’re gonna inside your head and make you realise that not everyone wants this revolution. That people are happy with how things are. And then when they’ve broken your nice, kind revolution… that’s when I’ll break your neck.
You think I’m being metaphorical? Turn up in Canada, and I’ll show you. Turn up to my house… and I’ll bury you in the f*cking backyard and let the snow cover up any trace that you ever existed. I said you were my legacy Joe, but now I realise how stupid I was being. See, the only legacy I need is my own damn self, which makes everything else - you, Frank, this entire damn company, fair game. There’s no strings on me now, nothing binding me from doing exactly what I want. So whether it’s at my hands or at your own your revolution will crash and burn, and I’ll still be here, stood among the wreckage. Because I’m Trace Demon…
And I’m eternal.
…1…
…2…
Ooh, so close, but not quite kid. Got to try harder than that.
”Um, Mr. Demon?"
The voice comes through the door after three nervous knocks. A stagehand, the pimply teenager I screamed at earlier probably.
"F*ck off!"
The look on Bishop’s face is a god damned picture. He thought he had it, but I knew better. You learn to pick up on things like this, on the breathing of a downed opponent, of the flicker in their eye. You might not see it in the ring, when the adrenaline is pumping, but from here, with the benefit of some peace and quiet, it’s clear that Brennan wasn’t going down to that. And then suddenly Brennan’s flipped him overhead only for Bishop to land like a bloody cat on the ropes. Good play, not something I taught him that’s for sure. I don’t go for all that flippy sh*t. Brennan’s too quick for him though, figures, even before he kicked the booze he was smarter in the ring than most. I listen to the crowd start one of their asinine duelling chants, as if what they say matters at all. But that’s what happens when the stupid get arrogant. You could say the same for a few around here.
More knocking at the door, this time I recognise the voice. The WFWF’s head doctor, old dude, big bushy beard, looks a lot like ZZ Top.
”Trace, we need to assess that head injury."
"And I said f*ck off before I gut you."
It’s not a threat, just matter of fact. That’s why they fall silent outside the door, not wanting to test my resolve. I turn back to the screen and… wait, is he… f*cking c*cky little sh*t, Needle Damage. He used Drakz’s move again his former f*ck buddy. Ain’t nobody telling me Joe didn’t get that kind of thing from running with me, adding insult to injury. Then he’s up top again, flying through the air and crashing down, the Inverted Decido Spiritus. The door edges open, I grab the nearest thing to hand, a water bottle, and lob it at the door. ZZ Top has to yank his head back to avoid my aim.
…1…
…2…
3. And the crowd go wild.
I watch as they hand him the title, staring intensely at the boy, no, the man, I dragged from his eternal midcard spot to where he is now. The WFWF World Champion. If I gave a sh*t about other people I’d be proud right now, but as the case may be I’m merely itching for my next fight. I head for the door, casually open it and emerge out into a hallway of staff, Doctor Top glancing at me, half expecting another outburst.
"Ready when you are Doc."
I’ll be seeing you soon Joe. Real soon.
< *** >
Trace Demon Presents
The Ties That Bind
Chapter One
Goodbye For Now
"Will you stop rubbing my head!"
"But it’s good luck."
"Now when I stab you in the eye with the needle in my arm it won’t."
"Alright, chill, god."
After Faith’s last chemo session her hair started to thin. She took it on the chin, then took a shaver to her hair and shaved the whole thing off. Not gonna lie, it’s not exactly what you’d call a ‘look’, but I get it. More dignity this way than having to go through the whole thinning out thing. The girl wears it with a sense of pride, and I sit here, in this hospital, with much the same feeling towards her.
"You want to make a joke about my head, don’t you?"
"I promised I wouldn’t, and I’m nothing if not a man of my word. When it comes to blood, at least."
Four sessions in and she’s… well, she’s coping. There’s pain, a lot of it, the first few days after. I’ve spent entire nights sat up in the sitting room, Faith shaking on the couch despite complaining it’s too hot. She tries to argue that she’s okay, that I should go sleep, but it’s not gonna happen. I’ll sleep during the day, when Emily and Caitlyn can keep an eye on her, get her what she needs, call the ambulance if things turn bad. Thankfully that’s not happened yet. She’s got another two sessions to go before we’ll have any idea whether it’s actually shrinking the cancerous little d*cks, but for right now no news is good news, as much as that saying is ever actually true.
"So chivalrous."
"What can I say, I’m a good guy."
A nurse pokes her head in the door as she wanders past, under the guise of checking in on Faith. It’s bullsh*t of course. Word got out of my little wander down to Anna Anders’ room a few weeks back and now Doc Brown’s got me in watch. Fair enough. The guy covers me enough that I can at least give him this. Anna’s still unresponsive, but she’s not braindead, so they’re still expecting her to wake up. I’m no doctor, nor do I care all that much, to understand the specifics.
"So Axel’s gonna be staying at the house for the time being, just to make sure you’re coping alright."
"You mean to make sure I don’t die, right? I told you he doesn’t have to bother, I can go back to the compound, the women will keep an eye on me just as well as you do."
"And you know I’d rather you were around family, and as long as I’m covering all the medical bills-"
"Yeah, yeah, I get it, it’s fine, Axel can babysit if he really wants."
"Oh he’s thrilled at the prospect. You know how much he loves responsibility. Either way I’ll fly back in between shows, and I won’t miss your sessions. Benefit of the jet, y’know?"
I’d rather not be going at all, but the WFWF’s decided they want to hit up the Canadian market for a few shows and like me or not (you do, don’t lie), I’m their biggest marketable Canadian star. And biggest star in general if we’re being honest.
"You’re still taking Emily and Eliza over, right?"
I nod. Usually I’d rather be alone on the road, peace and quiet’s hard to come by when you’re a father to a four year old. But this is an extended trip, and the many women in my life all mutually decided it wouldn’t be a good idea to leave her behind when she’s ‘developing’, whatever the f*ck that means. Emily’s coming with to play babysitter, and because I’m paying all her expenses not that that’s anything new.
"Good, because I rang Damon and told him you were going to go and see him while you were over there. He’d love to meet them both."
"You did what now?!"
"Hey! I’m doing chemo here, I’ve got cancer, you’re not allowed to be angry at me."
"Who says?"
"The world."
"Well f*ck the world. What possessed you to do something you know full well I’d kick off about in the first place? I don’t want to see him or that mopey brood he calls a family."
"Well like it or not he’s our uncle, and he’s not met either of the girls yet so either you go or I’ll find a way to make things very uncomfortable for you."
Whoever told you that siblings look out for each other was a god damned liar.
"Now, when do you fly out?"
"Friday night. Would have gone Thursday but I’ve got to see a man about this ridiculous tag match Lila’s thrown me in."
"Right, this David Brennan guy."
"Well… not quite."
< *** >
You know honestly Joe I thought it’d be a little while before we met again, at least in that ring. See I thought that Lila Sleater would be smart enough to keep us apart, that even she wasn’t so stupid that she’d put her new golden goose inside the ring with the one man who will willingly wring it’s neck. But what can I say, I’ve underestimated the stupidity of people before and they always find a way to surprise me. So… here we are again. Just two shows after we last clashed, just two shows after you beat me. I should congratulate you, not just for that but for that shiny belt you’ve around your waist. It’s been a long road, hasn’t it?
I remember when I first met you Joe, so full of promise, so full of potential and now it’s finally realised. You did what I always knew you were capable of doing and you made it to the top. Well done. But there’s something that people like you don’t know. People like you who’ve never been to the top before, who’ve never stood above everyone else with a shiny target over their shoulder. It’s hard being the best, it’s hard being the champion, it’s hard… being the target. See Joe you want to make wrestling great again? You want to make the WFWF mean something? It’s a noble thought, a goal worth striving for, but there’s something that you’ve never considered, something that you’ve never thought about.
What makes people like me? You look at the men who have stood at the top and you’ll see a worrying trend. Trace Demon, Drakz, Michael Kyzer, Phillip Schneider, Alex Sean, DGX, EBR, the list goes on and one. The one thing that we’ve all got in common? We’ve all stood at the top and we’ve all felt what it’s like to be targeted by people want our spots. You see Joe it’s hard being the best because people don’t like it, they don’t like thinking that somebody is better than them. And so they come after you, they try to hurt you and try to topple you. They try to make a name off of your suffering. So you get paranoid, you stop trusting people, you develop in the back of your head. You become bitter and twisted and broken. You’ll do anything to keep your spot, to keep that title around your waist. You want to make this a better place Joe? You’re gonna have to get over that curse first. Problem you’ve got is you’ve already got people targeting you.
Brennan and me first off. Only a matter of time before others step up. Worst of all do you really think Frank Lynn is gonna stand in your shadow long enough for you to make a difference? When he realises that cracking your skull open is the quickest way for him to get himself a world title shot? Nah, because at the end of the day he’s just like everybody else. And so are you. Sure you beat Brennan, sure, you even beat me, but the one person standing in your way, the one person who’s going to stop you now from carrying out this little revolution of yours… is you. And you will fall into the darkness just like everybody else. Now you’ve got a taste of what it’s like to be the champion you’ll start doing anything and everything to keep it. You’ll start doing whatever it takes to keep that title around your waist and you’ll become just like everybody else.
I’m gonna watch you fall Joe, I’m gonna watch you self-destruct and become the next great villain in the WFWF. And then somebody else will come along, bright eyed and bushy tailed, and they’ll start talking about how they’re gonna make the WFWF better and to do that they’ve got to topple the big bad Joe Bishop. I’m gonna watch that Joe, and I’m gonna enjoy every minute of it but none more so than the moment I get to stand in front of you and tell you…
I told you so.
< *** >
Chapter Two
A Friendly Conversation
Nowadays it feels like every f*cker and their dog owns a wrestling company, or a gym or a school or some nonsense like that. Used to be that wrestlers used their free time to get drunk, f*ck a few ring rats and make other questionable life decisions. An easier time, a purer time. I suppose I’m just as much a part of the problem but let’s be honest here, at least I’m qualified to be training the next generation. Hall of famer, multiple world championship reigns in various different promotions, a ten year career of success. That means something. And then there’s places like this, where people with clearly low standards come to be trained by somebody who has never done anything in professional wrestling.
I mean honestly, the only ‘legacy’ Frank Lynn is leaving behind is how to be utterly forgettable.
That’s why it doesn’t surprise me when all eyes immediately turn in my direction the moment I saunter through the doors. It must be a rare sight in this place to see someone with some actual success under their belt. Shame really, wonder what he’s charging? Maybe I’m not giving Lynn the credit he deserves, he must be a pretty good con man to make all this money while literally giving nothing of worth back.
"Umm… Trace Demon, right?"
"The one and only. Can I help you?"
"I was, um, going to ask you the same question. I’m Sarah, I help run the place."
Now usually this’d be the point where I’d turn on the charm, try and get a f*ck out of this whole trip, but I’ve got Emily and Eliza waiting out in the car, not too pleased at having to make this detour on the way to the jet. That and the fact that this chick’s been hanging around with Lynn so no idea what kind of venereal disease she’s got.
"I’m here to see Frank Lynn actually. I was led to believe I’d find him here."
"Sure, but do you have an appointment? I thought Frank would have mentioned it if you’d be coming in."
"I don’t do appointments. Ah, there he is now. Franky boy!"
Lynn’s eyes go wide at the sight of me, probably a bit of a mix between shock and anger. After all in his head who am I to be walking into his place of business. I don’t take any offence, the sight of me doesn’t often bring with it good fortune for others.
"You got a minute? Got some business to discuss."
He’s still trying to process it. Pretty funny, watching him work out how to handle my sudden appearance. He’s not used to mindgames, that much is obvious.
"Um, Frank?"
"It’s fine Sarah. We’ll be in my office."
He’s still scowling as he stomps off. I can’t resist a quick flash of a grin to Sarah, a look that very much says I’m going to
up your boss. It’s the little things like that, like the look of concern of her face, that makes life worth living. I follow after Lynn, following him into his dull looking office. I’m expecting the slam of the door as it echoes behind me and I swivel on the spot, still grinning, to face this ridiculous Thunderbird."What do you want?"
"Aw come on Frank, can’t a guy visit someone he doesn’t care about without his motives being called into question? That hurts Frank, really, it does."
"Tell me what you want or I’ll throw you out myself."
"While I’d love to see you try Franky, I’m not here to cause any trouble. Just here to make sure you realise what you’ve gotten yourself into."
"What?"
I lean against his desk, though from the height the chair’s been set to I can tell Sarah’s the one who does most of the work in this room. It’s cheap wood too, not surprising from Frank Lynn, that’s him all over. If you had to describe this guy in any two confusing metaphorical words it’d be cheap wood.
"This whole thing. You and Joe Bishop. I get that it’s pretty exciting, the idea that you’re making a difference, but you’re smart enough to know that you don’t belong, right?"
"You’re mind games won’t work on me Trace."
"Mind games? Oh you’ve got me all wrong! I’m not trying to talk you out of the match or anything like that, in fact I’m looking forward to crushing your skull beneath my boot. No, that’s not why I’m here. On this rare occasion I’m being entirely altruistic. In fact it’s not even got anything to do with you really. The reason I’m here is because I’ve got a lot invested in Joe Bishop, and I’d hate to see anything happen to him before I got my chance to do it personally, one on one."
"Then it’s a good thing he’s got me watching his back, isn’t it?"
Oh the poor, deluded fool. What is it with rookies and thinking that everything they say is tough and impactful? Honestly I’ve usually forgotten whatever it is you’ve said before you’ve even finished saying it.
"Well, that’s kind of my concern. Look Frank, I’m not saying you’re not talented but… well, you’re just not at our level, y’know? No offence, but me, Joe, Brennan, we’re top tier and you’re just… not. And that’s okay, you’ve only been around for a year, you’ve got time to get better. Maybe one day, when we’re all gone, you’ll be ready to step up, but right now that’s just not gonna happen. And I’m worried that you’re gonna end up costing Joe when it really counts. You don’t want that, d’you?"
"Joe warned me you’d do something like this."
It doesn’t matter what he says now, because there was that moment of hesitation, just the slightest look of doubt in his eyes. I’m a lot of things, good and bad, but the one thing I do better than anybody else is read people. You have to if you’re going to manipulate them all, lead them in your merry dance. I know what people are thinking, and Frank Lynn is doubting himself. He was doing it even before I stepped foot in this building.
"He told me you’d try to make me feel like the weak link, that I don’t belong in this match, and he was right. He also told me you’d only do it because you felt threatened, because you know that he can beat you."
"He said that, did he? That he could beat me, not that you could. He’s smart, our Bishop, isn’t he? He knows the score."
"No, that’s not-"
"Don’t worry about it Frank. You’ve told me everything I need to know. I meant it when I said I was being altruistic this time. I’ve got nothing against you. I mean I don’t like you, but I don’t like most people. I’d just hate to see you spoil this little revolution you’ve got your heart set on, all because you were too arrogant to accept that you’re just not quite good enough yet. But hey, what do I know, I’m only a ten year veteran, right?"
I push myself away from the desk, go to pass Lynn, who’s struggling for words. Usually he’s a talker, spouting out all this talk about how ready he is, but the truth is he isn’t ready, and he knows it. He’s pushed the thought down, probably helped by Joe’s positive reinforcement, but it was there, lingering. Just needed a little help is all. Self-doubt always does. Good thing I was here really.
"Good talk Frank."
It takes him too long to find his voice, because I’m already out the door. He stands in it, shouting across the room to me, but I don’t turn back. You never turn back.
"You won’t win Trace! Joe’s going to change it all, he’s going to make this company a better place! You’ll be forgotten!"
"All this talk about what Joe Bishop is gonna do! That’s your problem Lynn, you’re nothing by yourself! Grow some balls, be a man and for god sake get some real coaches in here to train these kids before they turn out like you!"
I don’t turn around, I didn’t really need to say it at all, but I can’t help getting in the last verbal jab in a room full of his students. Because they’ll all see it, they’ll all know, Frank Lynn lost the argument and his nerve and when he loses to two despicable villains in Canada they’ll all be sat at their screens thinking the same thing.
What does Frank Lynn even bring to the table in the first place?
< *** >
I find it amusing that Joe Bishop has tried to distance himself from me so much, yet all he’s done since he’s been back is follow in my footsteps. See all he’s done since coming back is shout about his revolution, about how he’s going to change the WFWF, make it better. Now it wasn’t that long ago that I was the one preaching about revolution. But that’s fine, messages get taken on all the time, people take up the baton and continue with the mission of their heroes. What I don’t understand is how Joe Bishop can preach about how he’s not like the rest of us… yet he’s doing exactly what I did and taking in naive little gullible nobodies and using them for his cause.
That’s right Joe, you’re not fooling me, I see exactly what you’re doing with poor little Frank Lynn. Let’s be honest Joe, people rarely team with others on their level because then they become a threat. Look at what’s happened with the New Epoch. I mean d’you see Drakz around here? Or is he off injured yet again because of Michael Kyzer? Then there’s Rated X, that ended up if I remember correctly with one of those idiots getting f*cking shanked. No, groups only work when there is a leader and followers. All this talk you get of people in teams being on the same level… well let’s face it, it’s just a load of bullsh*t. And you know that Joe because it was one of the lessons I taught you. See I didn’t bring you in to The Final Revolution because I thought you were on my level, it’s because I knew you were just below it. You were good, but not good enough to ever stop what I was doing if that ever took your fancy.
And now you do the same thing with Frank Lynn. I’m sorry to tell you Frank but Joey boy is taking advantage of you. And I know this because I’d have done the same thing. See you’re good… but you’re not great, and you’re certainly not a threat to the likes of Joe Bishop. Which also means you’re not a threat to the likes of Trace Demon or David Brennan. Frank I get it, you believe in what Joe’s doing, you believe in making the WFWF better for people like you, people who just want to wrestle, people who don’t have the brains to play games. That’s fine, not everyone does. But my problem is that you seem perfectly happy grabbing on to his boots and letting him drag you slowly up the mountain. Now the reason I’ve got a problem is that I can’t quite figure out whether you know just how inconsequential you are. Do you know that Bishop’s using you because you’re not quite good enough? Or are you delusional enough to think you’re on the same level?
I mean I’ve seen stranger things than that, trust me. Delusions happen. But Frank, I don’t want you getting the wrong idea here, I’d hate to see you step above your station and get yourself hurt. And I’m not just talking about this match because we both know that you’re gonna get hurt, I mean let’s all accept you’re the fall guy here. No I’m talking about when you inevitably turn on Joe, because we’ve all been in this business long enough to know how this works, and you get yourself beaten up the same way Joe did when he turned on me. See there are leaders and there are followers and you’re a follower. To use the same boring cliched chess analogy that always seems to come around Bishop he’s the king, you’re the pawn and the only reason you’re here is to sacrifice yourself so he can survive.
Now if you’ve accepted that, if you’re happy being that guy, then that’s fine. I won’t question it, I won’t try to get inside your head and twist it, I’ll let you get on with things and let you get beaten up every week so Joe can stay looking strong, because our precious champion has to look strong doesn’t he, I’ll let you go through the motions and let you rise up using Bishop’s name and then fall all the way back down when either you get too big headed or he gets sick of carrying you… or, I’ll give you one chance, one chance to change your fate. Step aside Frank. Don’t even bother turning up. Leave Joe to get crushed under my boot and Brennan’s ego and go back to being a Thunderbird with your best friend, if he’ll take you back that is, and save yourself some pain.
It’ll be better for all of us.
< *** >
Chapter Three
The Lie
I own a house in Canada, just outside of Toronto. I bought it a few years back, when I was thinking about moving back there with Alexa, just after Eliza was born. Alexa was never a fan of the hustle of Los Angeles, so I figured I’d buy the place and whenever we needed to getaway it’d be there, when we needed it. And then Alexa died because some sh*t-heel skipped a red light. And you wonder why I’m so apathetic.
But anyway, that’s where we’ve been staying for the past couple of days. Me, Emily and Eliza, letting Eliza get used to the Canadian air. Me and Emily are right at home up here, we grew up in the cold, but Eliza’s spent her short four years in the heat of LA, so the temperature drop has taken a little getting used to. But kids are quick to adapt.
It’s just over an hours drive from the house to Hamilton, where my not-so-dearly departed father’s brother lives. I’ve made a habit of not coming back to the place I grew up all that often, last time was for my mothers funeral in fact, when I discovered Emily. Since then I’ve given it a wide berth, not because of the memories or anything like that, just because I don’t have the time to waste on pointless trips to Nowhere, Ontario. Regardless, Eliza fell asleep after five minutes in the car, always amazes me how she does that. I travel so much you’d think I’d be able to sleep anywhere. And to be honest I can, as long as it’s stationary. Put me in a moving vehicle and I’m wide awake the entire trip.
Emily sits beside me, headphones in, watching whatever it is nineteen year old girls watch. Not gonna pretend I know, I barely keep up with TV myself. She knows that the one time I don’t like to talk is when I’m driving, especially not after Alexa, so she keeps herself occupied, waiting for us to pull up outside…
We’re here, Damon’s house. Thankfully not in the same part of Hamilton I grew up in. No, significantly nicer, considerably more well off. Though even the slums of Canada are better than most parts of America, let’s be honest. You might be surprised to know I’ve got an uncle, or any family at all outside of the immediate one that so often surrounds me. There’s not much of it beyond that, just Damon, my fathers brother. Yes, Damon Demon, I know, I’ve made all the jokes there are to make. He wasn’t around much when I was a kid, or ever really, he and my father didn’t get along. Strange that, my dad being such an upstanding member of society and all. But he had his reasons, which he kept to himself, but secrets have a way of getting out, especially in a house with a drunk at it’s helm.
I park up opposite the house and climb out of the car, looking over it, wondering why the hell I just didn’t ignore Faith’s pressuring and skip the trip altogether. But here I am, and it’s too late to turn back now.
"Huh, nicer than I was expecting."
Emily’s on the far side of the car, leaning on the hood.
"What, you thought it’d be a hovel because he’s a Demon?"
"Well, it’d be more exciting than being back in suburban Canada, that’s for sure. You want me to wake Eliza up?"
"Be my guest."
I look back up at the house, thinking of how different things could have been. A second later I’m bored of the thought and forget about it. The door opens, they must have been watching out for us. Damon stands in the doorway, fifty five years of regret and self-loathing in the flesh. I wonder if he knows that I know, if he ever found out that his brother let the cat out of the bag? I think about bringing it up, just for the chaos it’d cause. Maybe, if it’s as boring as I’m expecting, I’ll do just that.
"You ready to meet Uncle Damon Eliza?"
It’d be cute if it was true, but it’s not. Damon isn’t her uncle, he’s her grandfather. That’s the dirty little secret of the Demon family, one in a very long list. Damon is my father.
"Trace, you ready?"
"Sure, let’s go."
On with the show.
< *** >
I am not traditionally what you would call a team player. I’ve got this habit, this tendency, some would say an addiction to turning on everybody who stands beside me. Scarlett, Penny, Wayne, Nikki, Thunder, Saku… remember him? Nah, me neither. Even our boy Joe. I can’t keep a tag partner because quite frankly I don’t play well with others. No shame in it, I’ll be the first to admit I can be somewhat fickle, my mind jumps from one thing to another and to be honest I just get bored of it and I lash out and I hurt the people who think I’m their friend. A lot of the time I do it because it gets me something I want, others just because I feel like it. And y’know after a while you get this reputation and people just kinda assume that you can’t be trusted and they just stop wanting to work with you. That’s life y’know, that’s fine by me. But it does mean that it’d take someone pretty damn crazy to actually stand by my side and not expect me to stab in the back.
David Brennan is not that kind of crazy. David Brennan is in fact a very smart, competent and talented wrestler. He is one of the few men who have something close to my respect. See me and Brennan both have a few things in common, addiction among them, and I know full well that he is not stepping inside that ring expecting me to be a team player. He is not stepping inside that ring with the intention of trusting me. It’s just not how it’s gonna play out. But see I don’t need David Brennan to trust me, it doesn’t matter to me if David Brennan trusts me. And I know full well that Joey boy and his Thunderbird pal are going to try and play up that distrust, they’re gonna try and drive a wedge between me and Brennan and that don’t matter much to me either. I don’t need David Brennan to trust me. All I need is for him to show up.
Brennan, you’re a great wrestler and if you ask me you should be the WFWF World Heavyweight Champion. As it stands you’re not, and you’re not gonna be unless you can beat Joe Bishop. Which means you need me, the same way I need you, to be at my best. Luckily for you I always am. That means all you have to do is show up, be your usual badass, slightly grating self, and we won’t have any problems inside or outside of that ring. As long as you provide the kind of performance I expect of you then we’re gonna get along just fine. Really the only reason I’ll have to beat the sh*t out of you is if you let us down, but I really don’t think that’s gonna happen.
So then the question becomes, Joe and Franky, is whether any part of you really thinks you can topple Trace Demon and David Brennan when they’re on the same side. Because this match, to you anyway, is about good against evil, right? Me and Brennan are the bad guys trying to ruin your celebration and you’re the heroes, here to save us from our corruption and our sin and our misdeeds. But this isn’t a film, the heroes don’t always win. Joe, you beat me and you beat Brennan. That deserves a pat on the back. But that was one on one, and even then it’s the only time you’ve ever had my number. This time I have the best in the business, well, second place at least, at my side and you’ve got the f*cking Thunderbird. You know you’re outgunned.
What happens when we step in the ring at The Climb is very, very simple. Myself and David Brennan beat you. We hurt you, we tear you apart, maybe we break little Frank Lynn. We ruin your parade and we end your revolution before it even begins. You think you’re going to make a difference just because you’re the champion? That’s not how it works, because the monsters don’t just go into hiding because you’ve won a few matches. You’re on my turf now Bishop, those fans are gonna cheer my name, just like they did the last time we were in the great white north, and they’re gonna inside your head and make you realise that not everyone wants this revolution. That people are happy with how things are. And then when they’ve broken your nice, kind revolution… that’s when I’ll break your neck.
You think I’m being metaphorical? Turn up in Canada, and I’ll show you. Turn up to my house… and I’ll bury you in the f*cking backyard and let the snow cover up any trace that you ever existed. I said you were my legacy Joe, but now I realise how stupid I was being. See, the only legacy I need is my own damn self, which makes everything else - you, Frank, this entire damn company, fair game. There’s no strings on me now, nothing binding me from doing exactly what I want. So whether it’s at my hands or at your own your revolution will crash and burn, and I’ll still be here, stood among the wreckage. Because I’m Trace Demon…
And I’m eternal.
