WFWF All or Nothing: Kill Your Sons Jan 20, 2018 20:40:24 GMT -5
Post by Markw on Jan 20, 2018 20:40:24 GMT -5
WFWF All or Nothing: Kill Your Sons
’Yeah, you’re not rid of me. I’ll make you lick my injuries…’
I know what you wanted Trace.
Daniel Knight might have been happy to write that attack off as the actions of a man who’s lost his mind. An unhinged maniac who just wanted to hear his old mentees knee go pop.
But I know you.
See I don’t think this was the act of a man out of control. Honestly, I think you rarely do out of control – and never with a baseball bat in your hand.
I know when you’re out of control.
I’ve felt it.
I felt it as you wriggled helplessly inside the Mactabilis Factum on Night Five of the Supreme Gauntlet. For Daniel Knight, Alecia Matthews, anybody else wondering, that was Trace Demon out of control. That’s what that looks like.
What you all saw at Ashes to Ashes, was very, very different. What I felt at Ashes to Ashes, was calculated.
And I don’t think it was about me beating you in that tournament. Winning the World Championship. It wasn’t about the steps I’d taken to change this place.
No, you know what I think?
I think you wanted a war.
But more than anything else, what I think you wanted, what I think you really feel you need, is the old Joe Bishop.
I think you wanted me to lie in that rehab bed, watching as you ran havoc in the world you’d torn away from me. Desperately fighting to get myself back in that ring. Wondering night after night whether I’d ever get back to the point I’d reached during the Supreme Gauntlet, heck wondering whether I’d even get back into that ring, and I think you wanted it to break me.
I think you wanted me to make my way down to that ring on Frank Lynn’s big night, on the night he makes history. I think you wanted me to make my way into that ring, crutch in hand, and blast it into the back of your knee.
Now if I’d done that, as I was oh so close to doing, then you’d have won wouldn’t you?
The revolution, gone. Killed by Trace Demon. The Joe Bishop who won that gauntlet, gone. That feeling of inadequacy that’s been burning away inside you since you tapped out in the middle of that ring, gone.
The Trace Demon who knows he can bend Joe Bishop to his every whim, back.
And I’ll be honest Trace, it almost worked.
You almost got what you wanted.
You almost got a bitter, angry Joe Bishop, a Joe Bishop who was going to give you your war, a Joe Bishop who was going to stoop to your level.
You almost got the Joe Bishop you could beat, back.
‘I read the news today, oh boy…’
F*** this isn’t going to be fun.
Poppy Yates: How’s it going?
Joe Bishop: Same old s***.
He replied, agonisingly bending his leg about half a millimetre.
Poppy Yates: Sorry.
Joe Bishop: Yeah, well, can’t be helped.
God he really is dejected.
Poppy Yates: So, ugh, I really don’t know where to start here…
But here goes.
Poppy Yates: Want the good news or the bad news?
Joe Bishop: Both’d be nice.
Poppy Yates: Dad’s closed the school.
That won’t come as a shock of course, Joe had been propping it up for a good few months, the medical bills have kind of f***ed that.
Joe Bishop: Right.
Poppy Yates: Sorry.
Joe Bishop: Not your fault.
No, but I’m still sorry. He really feels like this is his fault, you can sense it.
And this isn’t going to be any easier.
Poppy Yates: I’m… pregnant.
Joe Bishop: Cool.
That’s it huh?
Joe Bishop: Congrats?
Poppy Yates: Thanks.
Ah the awkward silence.
‘A smash of glass and a rumble of boots…’
Gets f***ing dull you know. In a hospital bed, all day, all night, letting it all play out in your head. Really does start to grate.
I must admit I found myself all too often going back to that baseball bat, to that moment when my career halted. My hopes of getting that belt back from David Brennan, gone. Any realistic hope of me getting back into that ring any time soon, extinguished.
So when I got back on my feet, and the unrealistic thought that maybe, just maybe, I can get back in there, popped into my brain… it didn’t take me long to make my decision.
Joe Bishop: I need to get back in the ring.
He seemed to find that quite funny.
And… there, it dawns on him.
Andy Yates: F*** you’re serious aren’t you?!
Andy Yates: Don’t be stupid.
Joe Bishop: I’m not. I want to go back to my job.
Andy Yates: This isn’t any old job and you know it.
True, not sure what that changes.
Joe Bishop: So what?
Andy Yates: It’s a f***ing battlefield. You get back into that ring and you are putting yourself in the firing line of some of the most vicious, violent men in the world. Two months ago we weren’t sure if you were going to walk again. I mean for f*** sake Joe.
Joe Bishop: And now I’m walking again.
I do a few laps of his living room to prove my point, he doesn’t seem as amused as I am.
Joe Bishop: See. Trust me, I know what I’m doing.
Andy Yates: There’s guys in the WFWF who will sense this weakness, who’ll exploit it, and who’ll make sure you won’t walk again. It’s a f***ing stupid idea.
Joe Bishop: I want to be part of this revolution.
Andy Yates: Great, wave a red flag about during Frank Lynn matches, don’t risk your career.
Joe Bishop: It’s not enough.
Andy Yates: You are part of this revolution. Please, promise me you won’t do this?
Why do I keep thinking he’ll get it?
Joe Bishop: No.
‘Walking around with your head in the clouds, it makes no sense at all…’
Poppy Yates: Are you stupid?
She says. The unwanted, unplanned, wee, almost certainly ginger, scot baby bump clearly visible.
Joe Bishop: No…
Poppy Yates: So you aren’t gonna fight Michael Kyzer then?
Joe Bishop: Oh yeah, I am doing that.
Poppy Yates: It’s career suicide!
Andy Yates: It’s suicide suicide.
Joe Bishop: I really don’t care what either of you think.
Poppy Yates: Then why are you here?
Damn, good question, she’s never this probing in her interviews.
Andy Yates: We’re your friends, it’s our job to tell you when you’re being a f***ing moron.
Joe Bishop: Right.
Andy Yates: But you obviously don’t care.
That came across did it?
Thank God, he’s leaving, one down.
Poppy Yates: Please don’t do this.
Joe Bishop: I have to.
Poppy Yates: No, you really don’t.
Yes I f***ing do, Jesus Christ.
Poppy Yates: Please.
Joe Bishop: What do you care?
Poppy Yates: Please!
That poor f***ing child’s got eighteen years of this s*** to look forward to.
Joe Bishop: You remember all those times I was being stupid when I won the Supreme Gauntlet. Or all the times focusing on the Revolution was going to stop me achieving anything.
Poppy Yates: Or that time your revolution bulls*** was going to cost you your title.
Joe Bishop: The amount of s*** you throw at a wall, something’s bound to stick.
Poppy Yates: If you do this, you’ll regret it.
Joe Bishop: And I will if I don’t.
A shake ahead and she walks off.
‘Got a foghorn and a drum and a hammer that’s rockin’…’
I’m not gonna lie, whether I was every willing to voice it or not, I never really trusted Frank Lynn.
I mean I trusted his loyalty sure. I knew he cared about the cause. But honestly? I doubted his abilities. I doubted his talents.
As I was being stretchered out of the Lockhart Stadium, I looked up to the sky and for the briefest of moments my mind blocked out the excruciating pain and into it flashed one crushing belief.
‘The Revolution is dead’
Because honestly, there wasn’t a single iota of me that believe Frank Lynn could carry it forward. That he had it in him to take the charge to the higher ups, to the established order. I just couldn’t see him doing what I’d spent half a year doing.
I’m ashamed of it, of course I am. There’s nothing pleasant about telling somebody time and time again that you believe in them, when honestly, you don’t. When you’re taking him along for the ride in the hopes that the added numbers will attract a higher calibre of talent to your cause.
F***ing ecstatic to have been proven wrong?
In my absence, Frank Lynn has done something I couldn’t possibly have seen coming. He’s taken it to the established order, he’s given as good as he’s got, and he’s got us within a whisker of an opportunity to prove everything we’ve been saying.
And if, after he bests Trace Demon in that ring, he sees fit to forgive me for doubting him, then I’ll do everything I can to see his vision come to fruition. To play whatever part he deems fit, in the greatest night professional wrestling will have ever seen.
And as that show, earned and realised by Frank Lynn, comes to a close, if he would let me, I will stand alongside him in that ring and celebrate that victory. His victory.
I doubted you Frank. I did. And I’m sorry.
I’m not coming back to lead a revolution. I’m not coming back believing that I am the be all and end all when it comes to achieving a better WFWF. I let myself slip into believing that when I was carried out of that door, but I was wrong, I see that now.
You’ve shown me that.
Night after night in that ring. And now? Now?
We’ve got the chance to prove it, and honestly, I wasn’t going to miss these two great nights for anything in that night.
Michael Kyzer could rip my leg off, you say the word and I’d still be in that ring next time around, in whatever match you see fit, to show the world what we’re about.
I have to do it.
‘Cue light, now it's ready to roll…’
Joe Bishop: As long as this isn’t gonna be another lecture...
Shuggy: Wud I?
Joe Bishop: Wouldn’t surprise me. Everybody else seems to know what I should and shouldn’t be doing with my life.
Shuggy: Aye, well ‘tis f***in’ stupid, but I cannae say I wouldnae be doing the same in yer gutties.
He probably thinks that made sense.
Joe Bishop: Yeah, you know, I think I am.
Shuggy: Yous ready to put a good word in for me yet?
No lecture, just tapping for a job. Probably preferable.
Heck he might even just about be a better option than half of the increasingly slim WFWF roster right now – he has made a lot of progress.
Joe Bishop: You’re not ready yet.
But f*** it, if I’m putting in a good word for someone, it’ll be someone who cares more about winning than doing pretty flips.
Shuggy: If ya say so boss.
I’m really not…
Joe Bishop: Sorry.
Shuggy: You sure you dinnae want me around when Kyzer has a go at f***in’ that knee up even more?
Joe Bishop: I can handle myself thanks.
‘On the garbage heap, at the edge of the town…’
Andy Yates: Come on then…
Andy lent over the ropes of the wrestling ring that’s now in his back garden. Well it is essentially now his garden.
This should be good.
Andy Yates: Prove you’re ready.
Joe Bishop: What?
Andy Yates: May as well get some use out of this ring while I’ve still got it.
Well if the old guy wants me to beat the s*** out of him, who am I to judge.
Andy Yates: Come on.
Joe Bishop: Fine.
I rolled in and before I could take his head off with a clothesline he very rudely stopped me in my tracks.
Andy Yates: Ain’t gonna prove much by beating me up are ya?
Joe Bishop: I suppose not.
Andy Yates: Stand still.
Kyzer Effect. Meh. Not delivered with much force, certainly not exactly proving his point. I go to get up before he stops me.
Andy Yates: Stay there.
Indulgent Behaviour. Again, not really a big deal when the old guy does it, might have had some impact once but not n…
Stomp straight to the injured knee. Great.
Yeah I won’t lie, that f***ing hurt.
He lets go. That wasn’t good was it?
Andy Yates: How you feeling?
Joe Bishop: I have to do this.
Andy Yates: So you keep saying. See you back in the rehab ward, if you’re lucky.
‘You’re going to reap just what you sow.’
It’s amazing how often a wrestler can take somebody under their wing, do everything they can to get them their break, teach them everything they can possibly teach them… and then not cope with seeing them succeed.
Not cope with seeing themselves eclipsed.
You certainly don’t seem to be taking it too well do you Michael?
Brennan, he’s outgrown you. Ante, he’s outgrown you. Drakz, well, he never had to did he?
On the basis of the way you’ve reacted to it, on the basis of the way Trace reacted to it with me, I’d say it must be tough.
But these last few months, I’ve been living it.
I’ve been desperately fighting just to get to a point where I can contemplate stepping in the ring again, and I’ve been watching Frank Lynn drag this place forward. Watching him hit heights I could’ve never dreamed he’d reach. Watching him take the fight to Trace Demon, taking the fight to a roster of guys like you, like Schneider, guys who are dragging this promotion down with them.
And you know what?
Frank Lynn’s success is the only part of this ordeal that hasn’t been tough.
I’ve watched this guy, who I like to think I gave an opportunity to, flourish. I’ve watched him grow. And where you or Trace might respond by slamming a bat into his knee or smashing his head on a steal chamber, me? I’m going to keep watching.
Frank Lynn has earned us a huge opportunity. At least, he very imminently will.
But we can’t just expect the opportunity to be enough.
When Frank Lynn beats Trace Demon in the middle of that ring, that’s when the real work starts.
And I have to be a part of it.
I just have to be.
Because if I’m not, who else is?
The list of real, serious wrestlers the WFWF has on its books isn’t exactly a long one is it?
The WFWF is full of wrestlers who could jeopardise the revolution. And so help me God, battered knee or not, I need to try and counterbalance the dross. I need to be here to fight.
See the thing is Michael, yours is a species that’s long outstayed its welcome.
You, Drakz, Trace, Schneider, you came, you saw, you conquered, and now you’re festering on well past your sell-by date.
And if I’m not gonna stand up to it, try to prove that it’s wrong, then who is? Frank Lynn on his lonesome, ready to get battered and bludgeoned by at least Schneider and Demon, and I doubt it’d take you long to join them.
It needs to end. You people need to be eradicated.
Professional wrestling has so much to offer, and is providing so little, because of you. Because of those like you, who’d happily end someone’s career if it’d keep the camera on them for another five seconds.
I’m going to watch Frank Lynn beat Trace Demon in that ring, I’m going to watch as he puts together a card that shows the whole world that this whole New Epoch explosion, you and Drakz’s little tiff, it’s a waste of our World Champion’s time. It’s a waste of our fans time. It’s a waste of a f***ing wrestling ring.
You and Schneider and Trace and Drakz, you’re all welcome to try and maim each other, you’re welcome to try and prove you’re the biggest, baddest, loudest guy in the room. But you don’t need to drag a reputable sport down with you.
You don’t need to be tarnishing professional wrestling with it.
See I’m not remotely interested in the motive. What you’re hoping to achieve (and I’d guess it’s just about fixing that bruised ego). I’m interested in the impact you’re having. And I’m sure you’ll be immensely proud that I think it’s f***ing toxic.
I think you’re proud of it, of the cancerous impact you’re having on this sport.
And I don’t care what you throw at me, what you plan to do to this knee.
I’m standing up to it.
OOC: Much of this done the early hours today so not too hopeful, will format and give a quick proof read to make sure it doesn't make no sense at all in the morning. Probably best not to read until formatted but I'm too tired tonight.