Post by Rated R on Aug 14, 2017 14:06:53 GMT -5
Tyler; I
"Oh my god."
It’s been a few hours since my first live show ended and… what the f*ck? I just watched Trace Demon hang a man with his own cape. Seriously, in what world do those words make sense?
"Trace, he’s freaking out."
Freaking out? Of course I’m f*cking freaking out. Man. Hung. Cape. Why is nobody else freaking out?
"He’s fine."
"I think he’s going to be sick."
"What?"
I think she’s right. Oh god, I think I’m going to puke.
"Pull over."
"F*ck sake. You better not be sick in my bloody car."
Luckily Trace likes the backroads, or else this might have been a lot worse. I’m out of the car before he’s even pulled to a full stop, diving into the dirt and bringing back up that sh*t excuse for a burger they were selling at the show. Behind me I hear Emily groan, but that’s quickly drowned out by laughter. Trace’s by the sounds of it.
"Bloody hell, he really did chuck it all up, didn’t he? God kid, you could have just said if you had carsickness, nobody would’ve thought any less of you."
"I don’t think that’s carsickness."
"You… you could have killed that guy!"
I want it to sound more confrontational, like that’ll make him actually think about what he did, but with my throat hoarse from vomiting and the fact I’m still wiping it off my face as I turn to face them I don’t reckon it has the desired effect.
"What? Future? He wasn’t gonna die, you think anyone’d let it get that out of hand? You think I’d actually hang a guy with his own cape if I thought it’d kill him?"
Does he actually hear what he’s saying?
"This isn’t what I signed up for."
"Come on kid, what were you expecting? Wholesome family friendly fun?"
"I wasn’t expecting you to try and hang a guy!"
"I mean sure, that wasn’t a normal day at the office, but it’s the big leagues, sometimes you’ve got to get your hands dirty to get things done. Not the first time, won’t be the last. Plus on the bright side I don’t think anybody will be wearing capes to the ring any time soon, so I’ve saved the world a serious fashion faux pas there."
"You’re so embarrassing sometimes."
"Me? Embarrassing? I’m the definition of cool thank you very much."
"What the f*ck?!"
Okay, so that one came out a little louder than planned, and now they’re both staring at me. At least now they’re actually listening to me.
"How can you both be so calm about this. That was meant to be a wrestling match and you hung a man. That’s not normal. None of what is happening right now is normal. Emily, d’you really not have any problem with the fact that your bother hung someone? Like literally hung them in front of us."
"It’s just wrestling. It doesn’t matter."
"How does that make any sense? That was still a person."
"Well, I guess so, if you want to think of it like that."
A car drives past us, first one I’ve seen since we swung off the main road. Not sure why I’m thinking about how weird we all must look, arguing on the side of the road.
"How else do you think of it?"
"They’re wrestlers. It’s wrestling. It’s this bizarro world where people can beat the crap out of each other and nobody cares. That crap Trace pulled back there, I doubt it even scratches the top ten list of psycho things people have done in a WFWF ring."
"I’d like to think it’s at least number seven."
"Point is if nobody in that company cares what happens, why should I? Not like he goes around hanging people outside of a wrestling show, right?"
"Not that anyone knows of, no."
I can’t believe what I’m hearing. Wrestling’s meant to be about the sport. It’s meant to be about two guys fighting to prove who the better man is. It’s not about trying to kill people, or butchering them for the sake of proving a point. That isn’t what I’m training for, it’s not who I am. Not who I want to be.
"This isn’t what I signed up for."
"Need I remind you that you came to me for training. Had a real sob story about it to."
"I came to you because I want to be a wrestler! Not a sociopath!"
"What’s the difference?"
"The girl’s got a point."
"I can’t do that, I can’t, I won’t. If that’s what it takes to be a wrestler then I don’t want any part of it."
"F*ck me, just when you thought your day couldn’t get any more eventful it turns out your riding with Joe Bishop junior. Seriously kid, if that’s where you draw the line then I ain’t got the time to waste on you. Go talk to Frank Lynn, I’m sure he’s got another spot at that gym of his to teach one more person how to never make anything of themselves. Me? I got better things to do."
"You do?"
"I mean I’ve got a cape in the boot I want to hang up as a trophy. So yeah."
They’ve already turned their back on me, already heading back for the car, like none of this meant anything, like I… wait, are they going to leave without me?
"You can’t leave me here!"
"Why?"
"How am I meant to get out of here? I don’t want to be stuck in Canada!"
"Seriously I told you if you were going to take in another stray then make sure they weren’t annoying."
"You can’t-"
And they’re gone, driving off down the road leaving a dust trail behind them. And me. On the side of the road. In the middle of Canada. They’re not actually going to leave me here, right? They’ll come back. Yeah, they’ll definitely come back.
God, I hope they come back.
< *** >
Trace Demon Presents
No Going Back
Welcome to the Sh*t Show
"And then you go and hang a guy with a f*cking cape!"
"Worked, didn’t it? Ain’t nobody talking about anything but me."
"I would love to meet the person who taught you about marketing Trace, I really would."
As Elinor’s voice echoes out through the loudspeaker of my phone I glance down at my watch. Four hours since we left the kid on the side of the road. By my estimates that means he’s either a couple of hours out from making it back or he’s dead in a ditch. Finding it difficult to decide which one I’d prefer to be honest, but here I am, sitting on the porch like the answer actually means something.
"I’ll admit, as sad as it is, you’re right. I’ve been fielding calls from just about every sports broadcaster going wanting to get you on the show. Even a few of those late night talk shows you hate so much."
"Don’t hate them, just think they’ve gone downhill since Ferguson went and that dull Brit took over."
"Either way, I assume I’m rejecting all requests?"
"Obviously. Already hung the guy, don’t need to go around talking about it. I mean, not anymore than I’m going to anyway."
"You know it wouldn’t hurt you to do a few of these. They all pay you know."
Please, money? I haven’t worried about money since my first go-around running the WFWF. Smart business, good negotiating, a few shady deals here and there, I’m set for life. I could spend my WFWF salary the day I got it and by the time I fall asleep I’ll have made it all back in interest alone. So why should I spend my time doing sh*t I don’t want to do? When you’ve got money that’s the one thing you don’t have to worry about.
"Oh…"
"Oh? What oh? Didn’t like the tone behind that oh Elinor."
"I just got an e-mail, and I quote, from the office of Lila Sleater. She’s… she’s suspending you Trace."
"She’s what now?"
"She’s suspending you from the last two shows of the Canadian tour for excessive us of violence and disrespect to staff and colleagues."
Usually this is the kind of time I blow up, rant about it, go off on one about how Lila’s trying to screw me, to hold me back, to keep me down all because of her own selfish need to show she’s still in control. But I don’t need to do that, not now. I’ve found clarity.
"Good for her."
"What?"
"It’s nice, her thinking she’s got some say on whether I turn up for the show or not. Really, we should send her a reply saying well done for waving around your balls. Maybe make it a bit more elegant."
"Are you being serious?"
"Yeah, why not, d’you think the balls think won’t really resonate? I thought she’d find it touching."
"She’s suspending you Trace, she’s banning you from the building, she’s cutting your tour short. That’ll hurt the bottomline, it’s bad for your image. You miss too long and people stop caring, especially if someone makes you look weak."
Often amazes me how somebody so smart can be so stupid at the same time.
"Elinor, she’s not suspending me, she’s trying to suspend me. Suspending me assumes that I actually listen, that I don’t show up. Suspending me implies she’s got any say in the matter. Not the girls got balls but what she doesn’t have is a leg to stand on. I’ll be turning up, whether she likes it or not."
And she won’t, which’ll make it all the more sweet.
"She’ll be expecting that, she’ll have plans to keep you out the hard way."
"Oh I’m sure she will, but come on, you really think that if I want to step foot inside that ring that anybody’s gonna be able to stop me? I thought you knew me better than that."
"Trace, I know you get some sick pleasure out of doing the things you do, and I’m willing to bet my pay that a lot of it’s got to do with getting one up on Lila, but maybe we should take a step back on this one. I’m worried that you’re going to push it too far and something’s going to snap."
"Oh Elinor, we’re not stopping anything, not yet. If anything everything I’ve done so far has just been the opening act. Time to get to the main show."
Now, where did I put that cape?
< *** >
Tyler; II
Took me about an hour to realise that either Trace straight up isn’t coming back or it’ll take him so long that I’d freeze to death out here. Seriously, Canada is f*cking cold and I’m not dressed for it. Wonder how long it takes to get hypothermia? F*ck, should have paid more attention in class, maybe then I wouldn’t be freezing my balls off hoping I was walking in the right direction.
Why am I even going anyway? Trace is a f*cking nutcase! He hung that guy. Hung him! With his own cape! That’s f*cked up, and I live in the Los Angeles slums. Some of the sh*t that happens on those streets, it’s messed up, but that’s people getting away with sh*t because they ain’t ever gonna get caught. But Trace? He did that in plain view of everyone. It was on TV! The whole world saw the damn thing, but he’s acting like it don’t mean anything, like he didn’t do anything messed up? The guy’s off his head.
But I knew that. That’s not what’s getting to me. I knew what kind of nut he was before I ever got involved with him. I’ve watched the WFWF for years, I know what kind of crazy stuff goes on there. Nah, it was Emily, being all chill about it, like she wasn’t sitting there next to me watching the exact same thing. And yeah, anybody related to Trace is probably gonna have some problems up top, but she seemed so normal!
Is that what happens if you spend too long around Trace? Does he get into your head? Does he make you think that sh*t is normal? If I stick with him, keep training, keep learning from the guy, is that gonna become me? Am I suddenly gonna stop blinking whenever I see someone get crippled, or shanked, or whatever crazy ass sh*t is happening this week? Worse, if I somehow get into the WFWF am I going to do that to other people and not even care? I want to go into this business because I want to wanted to wrestle, because I love wrestling, but…
No, that’s not true, not really.
I want to go into wrestling so I can look after my sister. So I can make money, work a show once every couple of weeks and put together a life for her. Maybe get some kinda treatment if anything safe enough becomes available for her. Sure, I love wrestling, and winning and getting a few title belts under my name would be amazing but it’s all for her, all so I can keep my promise and look after her. I can’t do that without money… and Trace sure makes a lot of money. But does that excuse what he does to people, how he acts, the fact he doesn’t even care about how people leave that ring once he’s done with them?
Is money really loud enough you can deafen the guilt with it? Is money really worth it? No.
But looking after Lucy… is there anything not worth that?
F*ck.
< *** >
Influence
Emily doesn’t notice me when she opens the front door and steps out onto the wooden porch. Understandable, I’ve been sat in the pitch black for what feels like a few hours now. She’s already lit up by the time I decide to say anything.
"And when did you start smoking?"
She almost jumps out of her skin, barely holding on to the freshly lit joint.
"That’s no cigarette either. Very disappointed in you."
"My god Trace don’t do that! How long have you been out here anyway? It’s pitch black."
"So we’re just going to ignore the fact you’re smoking weed right in front of me, a notoriously recovering drug addict."
"Oh shut up. I’ll blow the smoke the other way."
She leans against the pillar that holds the porch ceiling up above us, casually taking a long drag.
"Seriously, don’t think you’re meant to be doing that in front of me. Sure it violates the whole guardian-whatever you are balance of power thing we’ve got going on."
"You’re a riot, you know that? The man who hangs people with capes getting at me for a bit of weed."
This whole cape thing’s becoming a bit of a thing, isn’t it?
"You think I went too far?"
"Trace, you always go to far, that’s your thing."
"And yet you don’t seem to care."
She shrugs, taking a deep drag. I can almost hear the gears in her brain turning.
"I know you, I know you look after the people you care about, who are few and far between. And I know you’ll stab people in the back to get what you want and do all manner of violent things to win a wrestling match which, sure, is the most ridiculous thing in the world but again, that’s your thing. But I also know you’ll do anything for family so, end of the day, I find a way to separate Trace Demon the wrestler from Trace Demon my brother."
"And that works for you?"
"I’m here, aren’t I? Why all the introspective crap? Don’t tell me that dork got in your head with his whining?"
"Not likely."
Honestly it’s the opposite. Ever since I embraced my role as the WFWF’s resident bad guy I’ve felt freer than ever, and more bloodthirsty alongside. But I’ve got a life outside the WFWF, a family to think about, the only thing’s that matter outside my own success. So I’ve pushed the boundaries, every single time, testing the waters to see how they’d react. The thing with Future? That went further than I’d planned, leapt from a 3 to a 100 in 6 seconds flat, but it gave me this chance. Only thing that’s been holding me back so far is what they’ll think of me, because they’re the only one’s who’s opinions mean half a damn to me. Trace Demon the family man might not run off the tongue the same was The King of Demons does, but it’s as true as anything else.
"You know what I’ve been thinking? Maybe he was right about some stuff. Maybe I am too relaxed about all the violence, maybe being around you does that to a person. But honestly? I don’t think I care. Does that make me twisted or something?"
"Not from where I’m sitting."
"Well a cult leader would never admit to running a cult, would he."
"Funny."
She nods and I get the feeling she’s only half-joking. That’s when we hear the footsteps, the struggled breaths, damn near smell the sweat dripping off of him. Impressive given I bet he felt freezing the entire trip. But still, there he is, walking up to the house, somehow not dead.
"You came back."
"Course he did."
He looks at us both, a mix of disdain, defeat and acceptance etched all over his face, seeping from every pore. Or that could just be the sweat again, who knows.
"Top tip kid, grow a thicker skin, or you won’t ever make anything of yourself inside that ring. Sh*t happens, sometimes you don’t like it, sometimes you do, but if it works, if it gets you where you need to be, you damn well embrace it, understand?"
"I… yeah, I understand."
"Good, now come on, you better get some sleep. Training starts bright and breezy."
Tyler Draven… welcome back to the cult of the Demon. Hope you survive the experience.
< *** >
The devil’s in the details.
Trace Demon. Two time WFWF World Heavyweight Champion. WFWF International Champion. WFWF World Tag Team Champion. WFWF National Champion. Hall of Famer. Headlined Superbrawl twice. And that’s just the tangibles.
Devilkiller. WFWF National Champion… yeah, that’s it.
On paper you’d look at this one and think it was a bit of a mismatch and frankly, you’d be right. I am the better wrestler. I’m smarter, stronger, more technically sound. I’ve got the experience edge. But I’m not stupid, I know this is another chance for Lila Sleater to try and take me out, to try and embarrass me. I know there’s another Future waiting in the wings somewhere if this one doesn’t work out, another one brought in just to try and take me out. Funny when you think about it. I’m meant to be the bad guy around here but I’m the one being targeted every single show, and all because Lila doesn’t like that her biggest star, the walking spectacle, is somebody that she can’t control. It’s fine by me. You like them up, I’ll knock them down. Worked out so far, right?
Now sure, there’s been a couple of blips recently, but don’t let the propaganda fool you. Trace Demon is still the main man around here, now more than ever. There’s a reason that I’m the guy people are talking about, there’s a reason I’m the name plastered all across the dirtsheets. You strangle a guy with his own cape in any other business and you’re looking at jail time. Here, in the WFWF? Well you may as well get a commendation and a hefty bonus, because you’ve just added an extra few thousand eyes to the product all wanting to see what it is you’re gonna do next. Bit twisted if you ask me, but you know, people do love a good bloodsport, and I’m not one to disappoint.
Of course there’s people out there that’d disagree with me. The little Wrevolution or whatever sh*t they’re calling themselves right now. They’ll tell you that I’m ruining wrestling, that things need to change, that all the kids trying to be wrestlers need to see that there’s a different way, but guess what kids? Joe Bishop and Frank Lynn aren’t going to pay your wages if you make it to the big time, which means their opinions mean a whole lot of f*ck all. See Bishop might be the WFWF Champion but he ain’t the person getting people through that door and into those seats. Sure when they leave he might have given them a good show but none of them are gonna be talking about Joe’s great wrestling match when they can be talking about Trace Demon hanging a superhero. Not. Gonna. Happen.
Joey’s always had the same problem. Ego. Can’t see the forest for the trees. He wants to believe he’s important, so he’s trying to make himself important. The kid knows he’s dull as dishwater so he’s trying to change the way things work so that suddenly personality-lacking losers like him can genuinely say that they’re the reason people watch. But face the facts, as long as there’s people like me around that’s never gonna happen, and you ain’t got the balls to take a guy like me out of the equation. Hell, even Frank’s caught on. You think all that flyering bullsh*t’s because of the ‘message’? You think that piece of his is running around spouting her mouth off because she thinks it’ll help change the game? Nah, I call bullsh*t on that one. Frank’s realised he needs to get himself a personality and do some crazy sh*t if he wants people to care about him, and that is what he wants. He’s as fame-hungry as Joe is, only he’s going about it the right way.
If you can’t play the game, change the rules. If you can’t change the rules, well you’re just not trying hard enough.
And yeah, that whole little King of the Sh*t Show Joe’s been throwing about? I’m running with it. It’s got marketing potential, and it’ll be a bloody joy when Joe’s walking around unnoticed, invisible, hearing everyone talk about how they’ve come out to see what the King of the Sh*t Show is gonna do next. So DK, you want to set yourself up as next in line for the Trace Demon sh*t show? Fine by me. I’m sure I can figure out some way to make headlines out of you. See DK, you’ve come in thinking that you can make an immediate impact, that you can show up and be a big deal again by toppling the mighty Trace Demon, but let me tell you something right here, right now. I’m not letting you use me to make yourself relevant. Because that’s what this is about for you, isn’t it? It’s your chance to make a name for yourself, it’s your chance to live up to that name of yours.
Devilkiller.
I bet you think it’s pretty apt, given that you’re facing the devil himself. I bet you think that this is predestined. But let’s make it clear, you’re not ready for this, you weren’t before and you’ve been gone too long to make me think you’re gonna be any different now. Did you have talent? Sure. Could you have been a main player if you hadn’t tucked your tail between your legs when the going got tough? Maybe. But that’s not how it played out, and it’s not gonna play out how you want it to this time round. I’m going to hurt you, I’m going to beat you and if you’re lucky enough to walk out of this fight on your own two feet I can damn well bet you you won’t be walking out the same as you walked in. I’ll give you credit, you accepted the challenge where nobody else would, and at one point the balls you’ve got to have to do that might just have earned you an easier ride than most, but I’ve got a reputation to uphold now.
The Demon. The Villain. The King of the Sh*t Show.
This is my kingdom DK, and from now on there ain’t nobody walking into my house that’s getting to walk out without a lasting impression of what it means to go face to face with the devil himself.
"Oh my god."
It’s been a few hours since my first live show ended and… what the f*ck? I just watched Trace Demon hang a man with his own cape. Seriously, in what world do those words make sense?
"Trace, he’s freaking out."
Freaking out? Of course I’m f*cking freaking out. Man. Hung. Cape. Why is nobody else freaking out?
"He’s fine."
"I think he’s going to be sick."
"What?"
I think she’s right. Oh god, I think I’m going to puke.
"Pull over."
"F*ck sake. You better not be sick in my bloody car."
Luckily Trace likes the backroads, or else this might have been a lot worse. I’m out of the car before he’s even pulled to a full stop, diving into the dirt and bringing back up that sh*t excuse for a burger they were selling at the show. Behind me I hear Emily groan, but that’s quickly drowned out by laughter. Trace’s by the sounds of it.
"Bloody hell, he really did chuck it all up, didn’t he? God kid, you could have just said if you had carsickness, nobody would’ve thought any less of you."
"I don’t think that’s carsickness."
"You… you could have killed that guy!"
I want it to sound more confrontational, like that’ll make him actually think about what he did, but with my throat hoarse from vomiting and the fact I’m still wiping it off my face as I turn to face them I don’t reckon it has the desired effect.
"What? Future? He wasn’t gonna die, you think anyone’d let it get that out of hand? You think I’d actually hang a guy with his own cape if I thought it’d kill him?"
Does he actually hear what he’s saying?
"This isn’t what I signed up for."
"Come on kid, what were you expecting? Wholesome family friendly fun?"
"I wasn’t expecting you to try and hang a guy!"
"I mean sure, that wasn’t a normal day at the office, but it’s the big leagues, sometimes you’ve got to get your hands dirty to get things done. Not the first time, won’t be the last. Plus on the bright side I don’t think anybody will be wearing capes to the ring any time soon, so I’ve saved the world a serious fashion faux pas there."
"You’re so embarrassing sometimes."
"Me? Embarrassing? I’m the definition of cool thank you very much."
"What the f*ck?!"
Okay, so that one came out a little louder than planned, and now they’re both staring at me. At least now they’re actually listening to me.
"How can you both be so calm about this. That was meant to be a wrestling match and you hung a man. That’s not normal. None of what is happening right now is normal. Emily, d’you really not have any problem with the fact that your bother hung someone? Like literally hung them in front of us."
"It’s just wrestling. It doesn’t matter."
"How does that make any sense? That was still a person."
"Well, I guess so, if you want to think of it like that."
A car drives past us, first one I’ve seen since we swung off the main road. Not sure why I’m thinking about how weird we all must look, arguing on the side of the road.
"How else do you think of it?"
"They’re wrestlers. It’s wrestling. It’s this bizarro world where people can beat the crap out of each other and nobody cares. That crap Trace pulled back there, I doubt it even scratches the top ten list of psycho things people have done in a WFWF ring."
"I’d like to think it’s at least number seven."
"Point is if nobody in that company cares what happens, why should I? Not like he goes around hanging people outside of a wrestling show, right?"
"Not that anyone knows of, no."
I can’t believe what I’m hearing. Wrestling’s meant to be about the sport. It’s meant to be about two guys fighting to prove who the better man is. It’s not about trying to kill people, or butchering them for the sake of proving a point. That isn’t what I’m training for, it’s not who I am. Not who I want to be.
"This isn’t what I signed up for."
"Need I remind you that you came to me for training. Had a real sob story about it to."
"I came to you because I want to be a wrestler! Not a sociopath!"
"What’s the difference?"
"The girl’s got a point."
"I can’t do that, I can’t, I won’t. If that’s what it takes to be a wrestler then I don’t want any part of it."
"F*ck me, just when you thought your day couldn’t get any more eventful it turns out your riding with Joe Bishop junior. Seriously kid, if that’s where you draw the line then I ain’t got the time to waste on you. Go talk to Frank Lynn, I’m sure he’s got another spot at that gym of his to teach one more person how to never make anything of themselves. Me? I got better things to do."
"You do?"
"I mean I’ve got a cape in the boot I want to hang up as a trophy. So yeah."
They’ve already turned their back on me, already heading back for the car, like none of this meant anything, like I… wait, are they going to leave without me?
"You can’t leave me here!"
"Why?"
"How am I meant to get out of here? I don’t want to be stuck in Canada!"
"Seriously I told you if you were going to take in another stray then make sure they weren’t annoying."
"You can’t-"
And they’re gone, driving off down the road leaving a dust trail behind them. And me. On the side of the road. In the middle of Canada. They’re not actually going to leave me here, right? They’ll come back. Yeah, they’ll definitely come back.
God, I hope they come back.
< *** >
Trace Demon Presents
No Going Back
Welcome to the Sh*t Show
"And then you go and hang a guy with a f*cking cape!"
"Worked, didn’t it? Ain’t nobody talking about anything but me."
"I would love to meet the person who taught you about marketing Trace, I really would."
As Elinor’s voice echoes out through the loudspeaker of my phone I glance down at my watch. Four hours since we left the kid on the side of the road. By my estimates that means he’s either a couple of hours out from making it back or he’s dead in a ditch. Finding it difficult to decide which one I’d prefer to be honest, but here I am, sitting on the porch like the answer actually means something.
"I’ll admit, as sad as it is, you’re right. I’ve been fielding calls from just about every sports broadcaster going wanting to get you on the show. Even a few of those late night talk shows you hate so much."
"Don’t hate them, just think they’ve gone downhill since Ferguson went and that dull Brit took over."
"Either way, I assume I’m rejecting all requests?"
"Obviously. Already hung the guy, don’t need to go around talking about it. I mean, not anymore than I’m going to anyway."
"You know it wouldn’t hurt you to do a few of these. They all pay you know."
Please, money? I haven’t worried about money since my first go-around running the WFWF. Smart business, good negotiating, a few shady deals here and there, I’m set for life. I could spend my WFWF salary the day I got it and by the time I fall asleep I’ll have made it all back in interest alone. So why should I spend my time doing sh*t I don’t want to do? When you’ve got money that’s the one thing you don’t have to worry about.
"Oh…"
"Oh? What oh? Didn’t like the tone behind that oh Elinor."
"I just got an e-mail, and I quote, from the office of Lila Sleater. She’s… she’s suspending you Trace."
"She’s what now?"
"She’s suspending you from the last two shows of the Canadian tour for excessive us of violence and disrespect to staff and colleagues."
Usually this is the kind of time I blow up, rant about it, go off on one about how Lila’s trying to screw me, to hold me back, to keep me down all because of her own selfish need to show she’s still in control. But I don’t need to do that, not now. I’ve found clarity.
"Good for her."
"What?"
"It’s nice, her thinking she’s got some say on whether I turn up for the show or not. Really, we should send her a reply saying well done for waving around your balls. Maybe make it a bit more elegant."
"Are you being serious?"
"Yeah, why not, d’you think the balls think won’t really resonate? I thought she’d find it touching."
"She’s suspending you Trace, she’s banning you from the building, she’s cutting your tour short. That’ll hurt the bottomline, it’s bad for your image. You miss too long and people stop caring, especially if someone makes you look weak."
Often amazes me how somebody so smart can be so stupid at the same time.
"Elinor, she’s not suspending me, she’s trying to suspend me. Suspending me assumes that I actually listen, that I don’t show up. Suspending me implies she’s got any say in the matter. Not the girls got balls but what she doesn’t have is a leg to stand on. I’ll be turning up, whether she likes it or not."
And she won’t, which’ll make it all the more sweet.
"She’ll be expecting that, she’ll have plans to keep you out the hard way."
"Oh I’m sure she will, but come on, you really think that if I want to step foot inside that ring that anybody’s gonna be able to stop me? I thought you knew me better than that."
"Trace, I know you get some sick pleasure out of doing the things you do, and I’m willing to bet my pay that a lot of it’s got to do with getting one up on Lila, but maybe we should take a step back on this one. I’m worried that you’re going to push it too far and something’s going to snap."
"Oh Elinor, we’re not stopping anything, not yet. If anything everything I’ve done so far has just been the opening act. Time to get to the main show."
Now, where did I put that cape?
< *** >
Tyler; II
Took me about an hour to realise that either Trace straight up isn’t coming back or it’ll take him so long that I’d freeze to death out here. Seriously, Canada is f*cking cold and I’m not dressed for it. Wonder how long it takes to get hypothermia? F*ck, should have paid more attention in class, maybe then I wouldn’t be freezing my balls off hoping I was walking in the right direction.
Why am I even going anyway? Trace is a f*cking nutcase! He hung that guy. Hung him! With his own cape! That’s f*cked up, and I live in the Los Angeles slums. Some of the sh*t that happens on those streets, it’s messed up, but that’s people getting away with sh*t because they ain’t ever gonna get caught. But Trace? He did that in plain view of everyone. It was on TV! The whole world saw the damn thing, but he’s acting like it don’t mean anything, like he didn’t do anything messed up? The guy’s off his head.
But I knew that. That’s not what’s getting to me. I knew what kind of nut he was before I ever got involved with him. I’ve watched the WFWF for years, I know what kind of crazy stuff goes on there. Nah, it was Emily, being all chill about it, like she wasn’t sitting there next to me watching the exact same thing. And yeah, anybody related to Trace is probably gonna have some problems up top, but she seemed so normal!
Is that what happens if you spend too long around Trace? Does he get into your head? Does he make you think that sh*t is normal? If I stick with him, keep training, keep learning from the guy, is that gonna become me? Am I suddenly gonna stop blinking whenever I see someone get crippled, or shanked, or whatever crazy ass sh*t is happening this week? Worse, if I somehow get into the WFWF am I going to do that to other people and not even care? I want to go into this business because I want to wanted to wrestle, because I love wrestling, but…
No, that’s not true, not really.
I want to go into wrestling so I can look after my sister. So I can make money, work a show once every couple of weeks and put together a life for her. Maybe get some kinda treatment if anything safe enough becomes available for her. Sure, I love wrestling, and winning and getting a few title belts under my name would be amazing but it’s all for her, all so I can keep my promise and look after her. I can’t do that without money… and Trace sure makes a lot of money. But does that excuse what he does to people, how he acts, the fact he doesn’t even care about how people leave that ring once he’s done with them?
Is money really loud enough you can deafen the guilt with it? Is money really worth it? No.
But looking after Lucy… is there anything not worth that?
F*ck.
< *** >
Influence
Emily doesn’t notice me when she opens the front door and steps out onto the wooden porch. Understandable, I’ve been sat in the pitch black for what feels like a few hours now. She’s already lit up by the time I decide to say anything.
"And when did you start smoking?"
She almost jumps out of her skin, barely holding on to the freshly lit joint.
"That’s no cigarette either. Very disappointed in you."
"My god Trace don’t do that! How long have you been out here anyway? It’s pitch black."
"So we’re just going to ignore the fact you’re smoking weed right in front of me, a notoriously recovering drug addict."
"Oh shut up. I’ll blow the smoke the other way."
She leans against the pillar that holds the porch ceiling up above us, casually taking a long drag.
"Seriously, don’t think you’re meant to be doing that in front of me. Sure it violates the whole guardian-whatever you are balance of power thing we’ve got going on."
"You’re a riot, you know that? The man who hangs people with capes getting at me for a bit of weed."
This whole cape thing’s becoming a bit of a thing, isn’t it?
"You think I went too far?"
"Trace, you always go to far, that’s your thing."
"And yet you don’t seem to care."
She shrugs, taking a deep drag. I can almost hear the gears in her brain turning.
"I know you, I know you look after the people you care about, who are few and far between. And I know you’ll stab people in the back to get what you want and do all manner of violent things to win a wrestling match which, sure, is the most ridiculous thing in the world but again, that’s your thing. But I also know you’ll do anything for family so, end of the day, I find a way to separate Trace Demon the wrestler from Trace Demon my brother."
"And that works for you?"
"I’m here, aren’t I? Why all the introspective crap? Don’t tell me that dork got in your head with his whining?"
"Not likely."
Honestly it’s the opposite. Ever since I embraced my role as the WFWF’s resident bad guy I’ve felt freer than ever, and more bloodthirsty alongside. But I’ve got a life outside the WFWF, a family to think about, the only thing’s that matter outside my own success. So I’ve pushed the boundaries, every single time, testing the waters to see how they’d react. The thing with Future? That went further than I’d planned, leapt from a 3 to a 100 in 6 seconds flat, but it gave me this chance. Only thing that’s been holding me back so far is what they’ll think of me, because they’re the only one’s who’s opinions mean half a damn to me. Trace Demon the family man might not run off the tongue the same was The King of Demons does, but it’s as true as anything else.
"You know what I’ve been thinking? Maybe he was right about some stuff. Maybe I am too relaxed about all the violence, maybe being around you does that to a person. But honestly? I don’t think I care. Does that make me twisted or something?"
"Not from where I’m sitting."
"Well a cult leader would never admit to running a cult, would he."
"Funny."
She nods and I get the feeling she’s only half-joking. That’s when we hear the footsteps, the struggled breaths, damn near smell the sweat dripping off of him. Impressive given I bet he felt freezing the entire trip. But still, there he is, walking up to the house, somehow not dead.
"You came back."
"Course he did."
He looks at us both, a mix of disdain, defeat and acceptance etched all over his face, seeping from every pore. Or that could just be the sweat again, who knows.
"Top tip kid, grow a thicker skin, or you won’t ever make anything of yourself inside that ring. Sh*t happens, sometimes you don’t like it, sometimes you do, but if it works, if it gets you where you need to be, you damn well embrace it, understand?"
"I… yeah, I understand."
"Good, now come on, you better get some sleep. Training starts bright and breezy."
Tyler Draven… welcome back to the cult of the Demon. Hope you survive the experience.
< *** >
The devil’s in the details.
Trace Demon. Two time WFWF World Heavyweight Champion. WFWF International Champion. WFWF World Tag Team Champion. WFWF National Champion. Hall of Famer. Headlined Superbrawl twice. And that’s just the tangibles.
Devilkiller. WFWF National Champion… yeah, that’s it.
On paper you’d look at this one and think it was a bit of a mismatch and frankly, you’d be right. I am the better wrestler. I’m smarter, stronger, more technically sound. I’ve got the experience edge. But I’m not stupid, I know this is another chance for Lila Sleater to try and take me out, to try and embarrass me. I know there’s another Future waiting in the wings somewhere if this one doesn’t work out, another one brought in just to try and take me out. Funny when you think about it. I’m meant to be the bad guy around here but I’m the one being targeted every single show, and all because Lila doesn’t like that her biggest star, the walking spectacle, is somebody that she can’t control. It’s fine by me. You like them up, I’ll knock them down. Worked out so far, right?
Now sure, there’s been a couple of blips recently, but don’t let the propaganda fool you. Trace Demon is still the main man around here, now more than ever. There’s a reason that I’m the guy people are talking about, there’s a reason I’m the name plastered all across the dirtsheets. You strangle a guy with his own cape in any other business and you’re looking at jail time. Here, in the WFWF? Well you may as well get a commendation and a hefty bonus, because you’ve just added an extra few thousand eyes to the product all wanting to see what it is you’re gonna do next. Bit twisted if you ask me, but you know, people do love a good bloodsport, and I’m not one to disappoint.
Of course there’s people out there that’d disagree with me. The little Wrevolution or whatever sh*t they’re calling themselves right now. They’ll tell you that I’m ruining wrestling, that things need to change, that all the kids trying to be wrestlers need to see that there’s a different way, but guess what kids? Joe Bishop and Frank Lynn aren’t going to pay your wages if you make it to the big time, which means their opinions mean a whole lot of f*ck all. See Bishop might be the WFWF Champion but he ain’t the person getting people through that door and into those seats. Sure when they leave he might have given them a good show but none of them are gonna be talking about Joe’s great wrestling match when they can be talking about Trace Demon hanging a superhero. Not. Gonna. Happen.
Joey’s always had the same problem. Ego. Can’t see the forest for the trees. He wants to believe he’s important, so he’s trying to make himself important. The kid knows he’s dull as dishwater so he’s trying to change the way things work so that suddenly personality-lacking losers like him can genuinely say that they’re the reason people watch. But face the facts, as long as there’s people like me around that’s never gonna happen, and you ain’t got the balls to take a guy like me out of the equation. Hell, even Frank’s caught on. You think all that flyering bullsh*t’s because of the ‘message’? You think that piece of his is running around spouting her mouth off because she thinks it’ll help change the game? Nah, I call bullsh*t on that one. Frank’s realised he needs to get himself a personality and do some crazy sh*t if he wants people to care about him, and that is what he wants. He’s as fame-hungry as Joe is, only he’s going about it the right way.
If you can’t play the game, change the rules. If you can’t change the rules, well you’re just not trying hard enough.
And yeah, that whole little King of the Sh*t Show Joe’s been throwing about? I’m running with it. It’s got marketing potential, and it’ll be a bloody joy when Joe’s walking around unnoticed, invisible, hearing everyone talk about how they’ve come out to see what the King of the Sh*t Show is gonna do next. So DK, you want to set yourself up as next in line for the Trace Demon sh*t show? Fine by me. I’m sure I can figure out some way to make headlines out of you. See DK, you’ve come in thinking that you can make an immediate impact, that you can show up and be a big deal again by toppling the mighty Trace Demon, but let me tell you something right here, right now. I’m not letting you use me to make yourself relevant. Because that’s what this is about for you, isn’t it? It’s your chance to make a name for yourself, it’s your chance to live up to that name of yours.
Devilkiller.
I bet you think it’s pretty apt, given that you’re facing the devil himself. I bet you think that this is predestined. But let’s make it clear, you’re not ready for this, you weren’t before and you’ve been gone too long to make me think you’re gonna be any different now. Did you have talent? Sure. Could you have been a main player if you hadn’t tucked your tail between your legs when the going got tough? Maybe. But that’s not how it played out, and it’s not gonna play out how you want it to this time round. I’m going to hurt you, I’m going to beat you and if you’re lucky enough to walk out of this fight on your own two feet I can damn well bet you you won’t be walking out the same as you walked in. I’ll give you credit, you accepted the challenge where nobody else would, and at one point the balls you’ve got to have to do that might just have earned you an easier ride than most, but I’ve got a reputation to uphold now.
The Demon. The Villain. The King of the Sh*t Show.
This is my kingdom DK, and from now on there ain’t nobody walking into my house that’s getting to walk out without a lasting impression of what it means to go face to face with the devil himself.