Post by Rated R on Jan 21, 2019 14:21:49 GMT -5
Tyler Draven Presents
Background Check
Home Cooked Meal
"Gotta say I’m impressed. Not a lot of people would be able to bounce back from their first loss like that."
They say you’ve got to do some things you hate to get what you want sometimes. Whoever thought that up clearly never considered that it might mean having to sit down to dinner with Jason Anders.
"Looks like sticking with me and Lila is going to pay off, don’t you think?"
He says it like he actually has some bearing on what happens in the ring. Sure, I’ve got to play up to Lila for now to make sure I keep getting booked, she’s made that perfectly clear, but Anders? He’s just a complication, and one I need to get rid of. That’s the whole reason I’m here. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.
Not that I’ve got any friends in this place.
"Kid, you listening to me?"
"Let the boy eat Jason. He’s always so chatty, isn’t he?"
Nina is the latest woman to fall victim to dating far beneath her league. God knows why she’s slumming it with this schlub, maybe she didn’t pay a parking ticket and this is her community service? Or maybe Anders is deeper than I thought. Nah, definitely community service. Draven cracks the case again.
"It’s fine Nina, I’ve gotten used to it. Dinner was delicious, thank you."
"She sure can cook, can’t she! You won’t get anything like that in catering."
He’s not wrong there, the guy struck it lucky. The girls nice, she can cook and she puts up with Anders general vibe of get the hell away from this creepy old man. Honestly, Anders has kind of lucked into the kind of life most people have to work a whole lifetime for and still never manage it. He’s got a girlfriend he probably doesn’t deserve, he’s got money he sure as hell doesn’t deserve and he’s got this house paid for by Trace Demon.
Trace Demon gave this man everything he could ever want and what does he do? He links up with Lila Sleater to try and get more. He’s not fooling me, I know he doesn’t care about me or the WFWF, just about how it helps him, how it makes him money, makes him feel powerful. I was watching the WFWF long before I became a part of it, I remember Anders playing the role of Trace’s underling, of the crooked general manager, he wants to play all innocent, all heroic, I’m not buying it.
"Honestly Tyler, I didn’t think you’d take me up on my invitation. I know things haven’t exactly been smooth sailing between me and you, or you and Lila, or you and anyone for that matter, but I can tell your loss to Lynn opened your eyes a bit, to what me and Lila can do for you, for what we can all do for the WFWF."
This feels ridiculous. We’re here talking shop while Nina clears the table, like we’re in the f*cking mob or something.
"Let me help you with that."
"You sit right there, you’re a guest in our home and I won’t see you lift a finger."
F*ck sake Anders, you’ve got this amazing woman here and you’re paying all your attention to me, spending all your time on this f*cking company that’ll kick you to the curb the moment you don’t matter anymore. What’s wrong with you?
"And let me tell you something now, Lila was certainly impressed with how you handled yourself with that whole Ante Whitner thing. Cutting off the interference like that, you won yourself some points with her for sure."
"Just doing what I thought was right."
"That’s why we like you, you’ve got honour, morals, you’re not sick and twisted like the rest of them, like Trace was, you want to do good, you just need our help to realise exactly how to do that."
Starting to feel sick to my stomach, and it sure ain’t the food. Anders is so busy patting himself on the back he doesn’t even think for a second that I could be playing him, that I’m working my own agenda. Lila too. So blinded by their own egos they don’t see the truth. Yes, I want to do what’s right, but stopping Ante from interfering in that match? That was all for show. I couldn’t care less if Ante went after Lynn, let the two of them tear each other apart. I’m not here to fix all the injustices in the world, all the little things.
I’m here to make money, to build a life for me and my sister, and I can only do that if there’s still a WFWF to fight in, and right now I’m starting to doubt that, so sure, I need to act, need to be a part of things, to do "what’s right". Trace Demon? I did that because it needed to be done. Because it was the right thing to do. But what Lila Sleater thinks is right? She doesn’t see the bigger picture.
I’m starting to think that I’m the only one who does.
I sit there for a while longer, making small talk, learning pointless things about these peoples lives, things I couldn’t even remember if I tried. Nothing I can use. Nothing worth anything. Why I thought there would be, why I thought Anders would have anything worthwhile in his pitiful life-
"Listen."
And I do, and I hear it, faintly, from up above. Takes a few moments to figure out what it is, but when I do, I know.
Crying.
"Anders, bathroom?"
"Down the hall to the right."
"Don’t be long, I’m just about to serve up dessert."
While part of my mind wonders what she’s gonna bring out, cheesecake preferably, I head down the hall. I already knew where the bathroom was, scoped it on Anders "grand tour" earlier, but I also noticed the stairs where right by it. That’s where I’m heading.
I’m quiet on my feet, something you learn early on being a wrestler is that being swift footed helps, which means I make it up there unnoticed. The noise has gone, but the lights are off in the hallway which means the one light shining through a half-open door is easily noticeable.
But she hears me coming.
"Trace was better at sneaking around y’know."
She stands in the doorway and honestly, she’s not what I expected. Long dyed red hair, pale, tall. The total opposite of her father. Then again, we either become our parents or the antithesis of them, rarely anything in between.
"Tyler Draven, right?"
Anna Anders, under a year out of a drug-induced coma. Trace Demon’s ex-something.
"I didn’t realise you were a mute."
"Sometimes, when it’s smart to be one."
This time a year ago I’d probably have been taken aback by how oddly beautiful this girl is. But right now all I can focus on is what else is inside the room. She realises I’ve seen it and smiles.
"Oh, him."
Him.
"That’s why you’re up here? Daddy dearest doesn’t want the secret to get out?"
"Something like that. Dad’s always been… protective. More-so since the whole coma thing. Turns out that messes people up, who knew?"
"Everyone?"
She chuckles to herself, and it strikes me that she reminds me of someone, I just can’t place who.
"You’d better get back down there, I’m assuming Dad didn’t exactly give you permission to be wandering around the house flirting with his daughter."
"Flirting, is that what you call this?"
"I always have had a twisted idea of what flirting is. You could say that explains the whole Trace thing. You know, my dad thinks you’re troubled, are you?"
"Can’t say I’ve given it that much thought."
"That’s a lie, but maybe I’ll find out for myself, if it suits me. Bye for now."
She winks and closes the door, leaving me in the darkness of the hallway. What the f*ck was all that about? I quietly head back downstairs, take Anders ribbing for how long I spent in the bathroom and tuck into dessert, gateau, which isn’t a half-bad choice. The whole time though my mind stays on what I saw upstairs.
A child. Probably a year old. Possibly born to a twenty year old who was in a coma.
And if that’s the case it’s likely the child of Trace Demon.
Which makes it the one thing I need to get Jason Anders out of the picture for good.
< *** >
A Familiar Face
I don’t do clubbing. I barely do bars. Too many people I don’t give a sh*t about for my liking. However when Arisa, a girl who I swear to god I’m only f*cking, tried to convince me to come out with her for her friends birthday I’ll be honest, it didn’t take all that much convincing, even if her reasoning made absolutely no sense.
"Suzie’s bringing her new boyfriend and I’ll be f*cked if that b*tch is getting one over me."
Whatever the f*ck that means. The reason didn’t really matter to me, I just needed something to distract myself from the voice in my head and even this place, as ridiculous as it is, is better than being stuck in my own head. So that’s how I ended up propping up the bar, trying to avoid being drug onto the dance floor.
I’m beginning to regret my decision.
The place is crowded, which makes it easy to hide myself away. I mean I could just leave, but then I’d have to explain it to an angry Arisa and, for whatever reason, I don’t hate having another person around that I don’t despise, since the rest of my social circle seems to solely include a boss with a saviour complex and a little rat of a man with delusions of grandeur. I sure know how to pick them.
"Will you just p*ss off?!"
Arguments between a man and a woman in the middle of a club are pretty common from what I know, so usually I wouldn’t even bother paying attention, except for the fact I recognise that high pitch shrill.
"Nobody is interested in your limp d*ck, especially not me!"
Of all the people I would have wanted to run into in this club she is very much the last. And yet in no way am I surprised. The world is clearly conspiring against me. Not in a ruin my life kind of way, sure, but at the very least life is the mean-girl queen bee at high school and I’m… well, I’m me.
"When a woman says no she means no a**hole!"
And then a punch is thrown. Her fist, his face. Probably should’ve left it alone man, the girl fights for a living. Bouncers are in quick fire but obviously, because life is Rachel McAdams, she’s the one getting kicked out. Gives me a chuckle, seeing her kicking and screaming out of the club, but then that voice kicks in.
"Follow her."
I do and don’t know why at the same time, but I follow, up the stairs after the scene. They chuck her out and I second guess myself, but f*ck it, this can work. I can make this work. I step out into the street as the dust settles.
"Not like you to cause a scene Daphne."
Daphne Velasquez, absolutely one of the worst human beings I have ever had the displeasure of meeting. Frank Lynn’s running buddy, manager and whatever the f*ck else.
"Carajo! Of course you’d be here, how could you not be here? Why don’t you get out of my face before I punch you in it. Don’t think I won’t."
"Not doubting it, you’ve got quite the right hook on you."
"That idiot should have taken no for answer the first time."
"No arguments here. Just came out here to check all was good."
"Bullsh*t. You’re here to try and play some freaky mind games. You don’t fool me, Demon Junior."
I’m sure everyone always thought that of Trace himself just about whenever he opened his mouth, but that never stopped him. I don’t like the thought of ever being more like him, but there’s no shame in using what works, if it’s for the right reasons.
"What makes you so sure you know me?"
"I don’t need to know you to know who you are. The things you do, the people you’ve partnered up with, that’s enough to know that you’re an absolute bunghole!"
"You’re friends with Frank Lynn, we all do crazy sh*t!"
How in the world does Frank Lynn spend any time with this nutjob? Sorry, I realise I’m speaking about a man who happily uses an old man’s first name as his full name. Probably not the best at making positive life decisions.
"Why d’you do it Daphne? Why d’you wrestle?"
"What?"
"Me? I wrestle for the money-"
"Well that’s a surprise!"
"God how does anyone ever have a conversation with you constantly interrupting them? Seriously!"
"I interrupt people when I don’t want to hear what they have to say. I don’t care why you wrestle, or why you do anything. All I care about is you getting the hell away from me and about Frank beating the sh*t out of you if I don’t do it first."
"My sister’s paralysed."
There’s certain things you can’t walk away from, and a man telling you his sister’s paralysed definitely ranks up there. Even Daphne, potentially the most antagonistic person in the world, doesn’t want to come across as a monster.
"What did you say?"
"My sister’s in a wheelchair, and it’s going to take a lot of money to make sure she has a good life. So yeah, I wrestle for the money, but don’t judge me for trying to make sure my sister gets the life she deserves."
"Why are you telling me this?"
"Because you’ve already written me off as another low life dirtbag when the fact is, you don’t know anything about me. Now you want to f*ck with me because me and Frank have got this thing going on over the title, that’s fine, that’s business. But don’t make out like you know me as a person when the truth is you haven’t got a clue."
Silence. I don’t think I’ve ever heard Daphne be silent for more than five seconds.
"Why do you care what I think of you?"
"Same reason you care what everyone else thinks of you. Because I’m human. I’ll see you at the show Daphne, good luck dealing with the blue haired wierdo."
I head back down the club, not looking back. Takes all my willpower not to chuckle to myself. Do I feel bad, playing the emotional con on the girl? The fact she was right about me being out there just to play mind games. Maybe. Sure doesn’t feel all that good knowing I’m delving into Trace’s old bag of tricks. But if it works, that’s what matters, right? If it gives me even the slightest advantage in this whole International title scramble going on right now then it’s worth throwing away a tiny bit of morality.
Nothing wrong with doing a bad thing for the right reasons… nothing wrong with that at all.
< *** >
Nearly a year. It’s been nearly a year since I took that bat to Trace Demon’s head and put him out of action once and for all. It’s been nearly a year since I officially became a part of the WFWF roster. It’s been nearly a year of fighting fair, winning matches on my own merit and doing what it takes to forge my own path. And yet still all anybody ever wants to do is talk about the past. You’d think we’d be past this my now, you’d think that we’d come to a point where we could focus on something else. I thought so. I thought by now I’d have earned the right to craft my own narrative. Yet every single time I look at a WFWF.COM match description I’m reminded just how shortsighted and ignorant people can be.
Here we are, me and Ante Whitner, number one contenders match. A bout that will decide who challenges Frank Lynn for the International Championship. That’s a big deal, that’s the story, right? Two guys stepping into the ring to wage war to find out who deserves that shot. And yet what do I see? I see them yet again reaching into the past. I see them saying that my claim to fame so far is that "infamous" baseball bat attack. You know, it doesn’t matter that I’ve lost just one match since debuting. It doesn’t matter that I’ve took on all comers and fought clean every step of the way. It doesn’t matter that I’ve barely put a foot out of line since that day,
My claim to fame is bashing a mans head in. "Fame" as if that’s what I wanted when I did the right thing, when I did what the WFWF needed me to do! You think I enjoyed that? You think that’s what I want to sit here talking about? As if I haven’t done everything in my power to distance myself from bloodshed. And yet everyone else has to keep reminding me, everyone has to keep bringing up the past.
So let’s dive into the past a bit shall we?
Ante Whitner was once heralded as a future WFWF World Champion. Ante Whitner was once viewed as the next big thing in this company, in professional wrestling. He was dubbed the next Phillip Schneider, the next Drakz, the next Trace Demon. And yet here we are, years later, and what has he really done? Has he so much as sniffed the WFWF World Championship? Has he come close to establishing himself as a main eventer? Has Ante Whitner really lived up to the hype? Let’s be honest here, how long is it until we start calling Ante Whitner what he really is?
The next Yukio Blaze.
A man who always comes so close, a man who is always spoken about as if he has talent, a man who the fans always love to see turn up… but never actually does anything. A man who means absolutely nothing. You go into the back and you ask anyone what they think of Yukio Blaze, you’re not gonna get much of an answer because he’s totally irrelevant beyond getting a cheap, pathetic pop out of WFWF fans clawing for the slightest hint of nostalgia. That is Ante Whitner’s future. Hell, that’s Ante Whitner’s present. How many times does this guy have to fall off the grid, having done nothing at all, then pop back up and just get slotted into a big match? Given a big opportunity? Face the facts Whitner, the reason you get these chances aren’t because you deserve them, it’s not because you mean anything, it’s because you’re a solid hand who’ll step into the ring, put on a good show… and lose, to somebody more important.
That’s your spot, that’s your career, that’s your legacy.
And then there’s Frank Lynn. You know when I first turned up in the WFWF Frank Lynn was all about honour, he was all about making the WFWF a better place. He was about The Revolution. And then what happened? He got the opportunity to win a title with a cheap, disgusting shot and he took it. And suddenly that honour didn’t mean much of anything because since then what have you really stood for? Absolutely f*ck all. All you do nowadays is walk around making out like you’re a big deal because you’ve got that International Championship because the moment you got that title nothing else mattered to you because suddenly you had your vindication. You had a belt that told people you mattered, the same way you once had a revolution, and that’s all you care about. So how about we stop acting like the past means anything when the only thing that matters is the here and now. And right here, right now, there’s a few things I do know to be certain.
Frank Lynn’s days as champion are numbered, Ante Whitner’s dwindling career is about to finally come to a halt and Tyler Draven will once again remind everyone that there is only one thing that you should be talking about, that there is only one thing that matters.
Me.
Background Check
Home Cooked Meal
"Gotta say I’m impressed. Not a lot of people would be able to bounce back from their first loss like that."
They say you’ve got to do some things you hate to get what you want sometimes. Whoever thought that up clearly never considered that it might mean having to sit down to dinner with Jason Anders.
"Looks like sticking with me and Lila is going to pay off, don’t you think?"
He says it like he actually has some bearing on what happens in the ring. Sure, I’ve got to play up to Lila for now to make sure I keep getting booked, she’s made that perfectly clear, but Anders? He’s just a complication, and one I need to get rid of. That’s the whole reason I’m here. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.
Not that I’ve got any friends in this place.
"Kid, you listening to me?"
"Let the boy eat Jason. He’s always so chatty, isn’t he?"
Nina is the latest woman to fall victim to dating far beneath her league. God knows why she’s slumming it with this schlub, maybe she didn’t pay a parking ticket and this is her community service? Or maybe Anders is deeper than I thought. Nah, definitely community service. Draven cracks the case again.
"It’s fine Nina, I’ve gotten used to it. Dinner was delicious, thank you."
"She sure can cook, can’t she! You won’t get anything like that in catering."
He’s not wrong there, the guy struck it lucky. The girls nice, she can cook and she puts up with Anders general vibe of get the hell away from this creepy old man. Honestly, Anders has kind of lucked into the kind of life most people have to work a whole lifetime for and still never manage it. He’s got a girlfriend he probably doesn’t deserve, he’s got money he sure as hell doesn’t deserve and he’s got this house paid for by Trace Demon.
Trace Demon gave this man everything he could ever want and what does he do? He links up with Lila Sleater to try and get more. He’s not fooling me, I know he doesn’t care about me or the WFWF, just about how it helps him, how it makes him money, makes him feel powerful. I was watching the WFWF long before I became a part of it, I remember Anders playing the role of Trace’s underling, of the crooked general manager, he wants to play all innocent, all heroic, I’m not buying it.
"Honestly Tyler, I didn’t think you’d take me up on my invitation. I know things haven’t exactly been smooth sailing between me and you, or you and Lila, or you and anyone for that matter, but I can tell your loss to Lynn opened your eyes a bit, to what me and Lila can do for you, for what we can all do for the WFWF."
This feels ridiculous. We’re here talking shop while Nina clears the table, like we’re in the f*cking mob or something.
"Let me help you with that."
"You sit right there, you’re a guest in our home and I won’t see you lift a finger."
F*ck sake Anders, you’ve got this amazing woman here and you’re paying all your attention to me, spending all your time on this f*cking company that’ll kick you to the curb the moment you don’t matter anymore. What’s wrong with you?
"And let me tell you something now, Lila was certainly impressed with how you handled yourself with that whole Ante Whitner thing. Cutting off the interference like that, you won yourself some points with her for sure."
"Just doing what I thought was right."
"That’s why we like you, you’ve got honour, morals, you’re not sick and twisted like the rest of them, like Trace was, you want to do good, you just need our help to realise exactly how to do that."
Starting to feel sick to my stomach, and it sure ain’t the food. Anders is so busy patting himself on the back he doesn’t even think for a second that I could be playing him, that I’m working my own agenda. Lila too. So blinded by their own egos they don’t see the truth. Yes, I want to do what’s right, but stopping Ante from interfering in that match? That was all for show. I couldn’t care less if Ante went after Lynn, let the two of them tear each other apart. I’m not here to fix all the injustices in the world, all the little things.
I’m here to make money, to build a life for me and my sister, and I can only do that if there’s still a WFWF to fight in, and right now I’m starting to doubt that, so sure, I need to act, need to be a part of things, to do "what’s right". Trace Demon? I did that because it needed to be done. Because it was the right thing to do. But what Lila Sleater thinks is right? She doesn’t see the bigger picture.
I’m starting to think that I’m the only one who does.
I sit there for a while longer, making small talk, learning pointless things about these peoples lives, things I couldn’t even remember if I tried. Nothing I can use. Nothing worth anything. Why I thought there would be, why I thought Anders would have anything worthwhile in his pitiful life-
"Listen."
And I do, and I hear it, faintly, from up above. Takes a few moments to figure out what it is, but when I do, I know.
Crying.
"Anders, bathroom?"
"Down the hall to the right."
"Don’t be long, I’m just about to serve up dessert."
While part of my mind wonders what she’s gonna bring out, cheesecake preferably, I head down the hall. I already knew where the bathroom was, scoped it on Anders "grand tour" earlier, but I also noticed the stairs where right by it. That’s where I’m heading.
I’m quiet on my feet, something you learn early on being a wrestler is that being swift footed helps, which means I make it up there unnoticed. The noise has gone, but the lights are off in the hallway which means the one light shining through a half-open door is easily noticeable.
But she hears me coming.
"Trace was better at sneaking around y’know."
She stands in the doorway and honestly, she’s not what I expected. Long dyed red hair, pale, tall. The total opposite of her father. Then again, we either become our parents or the antithesis of them, rarely anything in between.
"Tyler Draven, right?"
Anna Anders, under a year out of a drug-induced coma. Trace Demon’s ex-something.
"I didn’t realise you were a mute."
"Sometimes, when it’s smart to be one."
This time a year ago I’d probably have been taken aback by how oddly beautiful this girl is. But right now all I can focus on is what else is inside the room. She realises I’ve seen it and smiles.
"Oh, him."
Him.
"That’s why you’re up here? Daddy dearest doesn’t want the secret to get out?"
"Something like that. Dad’s always been… protective. More-so since the whole coma thing. Turns out that messes people up, who knew?"
"Everyone?"
She chuckles to herself, and it strikes me that she reminds me of someone, I just can’t place who.
"You’d better get back down there, I’m assuming Dad didn’t exactly give you permission to be wandering around the house flirting with his daughter."
"Flirting, is that what you call this?"
"I always have had a twisted idea of what flirting is. You could say that explains the whole Trace thing. You know, my dad thinks you’re troubled, are you?"
"Can’t say I’ve given it that much thought."
"That’s a lie, but maybe I’ll find out for myself, if it suits me. Bye for now."
She winks and closes the door, leaving me in the darkness of the hallway. What the f*ck was all that about? I quietly head back downstairs, take Anders ribbing for how long I spent in the bathroom and tuck into dessert, gateau, which isn’t a half-bad choice. The whole time though my mind stays on what I saw upstairs.
A child. Probably a year old. Possibly born to a twenty year old who was in a coma.
And if that’s the case it’s likely the child of Trace Demon.
Which makes it the one thing I need to get Jason Anders out of the picture for good.
< *** >
A Familiar Face
I don’t do clubbing. I barely do bars. Too many people I don’t give a sh*t about for my liking. However when Arisa, a girl who I swear to god I’m only f*cking, tried to convince me to come out with her for her friends birthday I’ll be honest, it didn’t take all that much convincing, even if her reasoning made absolutely no sense.
"Suzie’s bringing her new boyfriend and I’ll be f*cked if that b*tch is getting one over me."
Whatever the f*ck that means. The reason didn’t really matter to me, I just needed something to distract myself from the voice in my head and even this place, as ridiculous as it is, is better than being stuck in my own head. So that’s how I ended up propping up the bar, trying to avoid being drug onto the dance floor.
I’m beginning to regret my decision.
The place is crowded, which makes it easy to hide myself away. I mean I could just leave, but then I’d have to explain it to an angry Arisa and, for whatever reason, I don’t hate having another person around that I don’t despise, since the rest of my social circle seems to solely include a boss with a saviour complex and a little rat of a man with delusions of grandeur. I sure know how to pick them.
"Will you just p*ss off?!"
Arguments between a man and a woman in the middle of a club are pretty common from what I know, so usually I wouldn’t even bother paying attention, except for the fact I recognise that high pitch shrill.
"Nobody is interested in your limp d*ck, especially not me!"
Of all the people I would have wanted to run into in this club she is very much the last. And yet in no way am I surprised. The world is clearly conspiring against me. Not in a ruin my life kind of way, sure, but at the very least life is the mean-girl queen bee at high school and I’m… well, I’m me.
"When a woman says no she means no a**hole!"
And then a punch is thrown. Her fist, his face. Probably should’ve left it alone man, the girl fights for a living. Bouncers are in quick fire but obviously, because life is Rachel McAdams, she’s the one getting kicked out. Gives me a chuckle, seeing her kicking and screaming out of the club, but then that voice kicks in.
"Follow her."
I do and don’t know why at the same time, but I follow, up the stairs after the scene. They chuck her out and I second guess myself, but f*ck it, this can work. I can make this work. I step out into the street as the dust settles.
"Not like you to cause a scene Daphne."
Daphne Velasquez, absolutely one of the worst human beings I have ever had the displeasure of meeting. Frank Lynn’s running buddy, manager and whatever the f*ck else.
"Carajo! Of course you’d be here, how could you not be here? Why don’t you get out of my face before I punch you in it. Don’t think I won’t."
"Not doubting it, you’ve got quite the right hook on you."
"That idiot should have taken no for answer the first time."
"No arguments here. Just came out here to check all was good."
"Bullsh*t. You’re here to try and play some freaky mind games. You don’t fool me, Demon Junior."
I’m sure everyone always thought that of Trace himself just about whenever he opened his mouth, but that never stopped him. I don’t like the thought of ever being more like him, but there’s no shame in using what works, if it’s for the right reasons.
"What makes you so sure you know me?"
"I don’t need to know you to know who you are. The things you do, the people you’ve partnered up with, that’s enough to know that you’re an absolute bunghole!"
"You’re friends with Frank Lynn, we all do crazy sh*t!"
How in the world does Frank Lynn spend any time with this nutjob? Sorry, I realise I’m speaking about a man who happily uses an old man’s first name as his full name. Probably not the best at making positive life decisions.
"Why d’you do it Daphne? Why d’you wrestle?"
"What?"
"Me? I wrestle for the money-"
"Well that’s a surprise!"
"God how does anyone ever have a conversation with you constantly interrupting them? Seriously!"
"I interrupt people when I don’t want to hear what they have to say. I don’t care why you wrestle, or why you do anything. All I care about is you getting the hell away from me and about Frank beating the sh*t out of you if I don’t do it first."
"My sister’s paralysed."
There’s certain things you can’t walk away from, and a man telling you his sister’s paralysed definitely ranks up there. Even Daphne, potentially the most antagonistic person in the world, doesn’t want to come across as a monster.
"What did you say?"
"My sister’s in a wheelchair, and it’s going to take a lot of money to make sure she has a good life. So yeah, I wrestle for the money, but don’t judge me for trying to make sure my sister gets the life she deserves."
"Why are you telling me this?"
"Because you’ve already written me off as another low life dirtbag when the fact is, you don’t know anything about me. Now you want to f*ck with me because me and Frank have got this thing going on over the title, that’s fine, that’s business. But don’t make out like you know me as a person when the truth is you haven’t got a clue."
Silence. I don’t think I’ve ever heard Daphne be silent for more than five seconds.
"Why do you care what I think of you?"
"Same reason you care what everyone else thinks of you. Because I’m human. I’ll see you at the show Daphne, good luck dealing with the blue haired wierdo."
I head back down the club, not looking back. Takes all my willpower not to chuckle to myself. Do I feel bad, playing the emotional con on the girl? The fact she was right about me being out there just to play mind games. Maybe. Sure doesn’t feel all that good knowing I’m delving into Trace’s old bag of tricks. But if it works, that’s what matters, right? If it gives me even the slightest advantage in this whole International title scramble going on right now then it’s worth throwing away a tiny bit of morality.
Nothing wrong with doing a bad thing for the right reasons… nothing wrong with that at all.
< *** >
Nearly a year. It’s been nearly a year since I took that bat to Trace Demon’s head and put him out of action once and for all. It’s been nearly a year since I officially became a part of the WFWF roster. It’s been nearly a year of fighting fair, winning matches on my own merit and doing what it takes to forge my own path. And yet still all anybody ever wants to do is talk about the past. You’d think we’d be past this my now, you’d think that we’d come to a point where we could focus on something else. I thought so. I thought by now I’d have earned the right to craft my own narrative. Yet every single time I look at a WFWF.COM match description I’m reminded just how shortsighted and ignorant people can be.
Here we are, me and Ante Whitner, number one contenders match. A bout that will decide who challenges Frank Lynn for the International Championship. That’s a big deal, that’s the story, right? Two guys stepping into the ring to wage war to find out who deserves that shot. And yet what do I see? I see them yet again reaching into the past. I see them saying that my claim to fame so far is that "infamous" baseball bat attack. You know, it doesn’t matter that I’ve lost just one match since debuting. It doesn’t matter that I’ve took on all comers and fought clean every step of the way. It doesn’t matter that I’ve barely put a foot out of line since that day,
My claim to fame is bashing a mans head in. "Fame" as if that’s what I wanted when I did the right thing, when I did what the WFWF needed me to do! You think I enjoyed that? You think that’s what I want to sit here talking about? As if I haven’t done everything in my power to distance myself from bloodshed. And yet everyone else has to keep reminding me, everyone has to keep bringing up the past.
So let’s dive into the past a bit shall we?
Ante Whitner was once heralded as a future WFWF World Champion. Ante Whitner was once viewed as the next big thing in this company, in professional wrestling. He was dubbed the next Phillip Schneider, the next Drakz, the next Trace Demon. And yet here we are, years later, and what has he really done? Has he so much as sniffed the WFWF World Championship? Has he come close to establishing himself as a main eventer? Has Ante Whitner really lived up to the hype? Let’s be honest here, how long is it until we start calling Ante Whitner what he really is?
The next Yukio Blaze.
A man who always comes so close, a man who is always spoken about as if he has talent, a man who the fans always love to see turn up… but never actually does anything. A man who means absolutely nothing. You go into the back and you ask anyone what they think of Yukio Blaze, you’re not gonna get much of an answer because he’s totally irrelevant beyond getting a cheap, pathetic pop out of WFWF fans clawing for the slightest hint of nostalgia. That is Ante Whitner’s future. Hell, that’s Ante Whitner’s present. How many times does this guy have to fall off the grid, having done nothing at all, then pop back up and just get slotted into a big match? Given a big opportunity? Face the facts Whitner, the reason you get these chances aren’t because you deserve them, it’s not because you mean anything, it’s because you’re a solid hand who’ll step into the ring, put on a good show… and lose, to somebody more important.
That’s your spot, that’s your career, that’s your legacy.
And then there’s Frank Lynn. You know when I first turned up in the WFWF Frank Lynn was all about honour, he was all about making the WFWF a better place. He was about The Revolution. And then what happened? He got the opportunity to win a title with a cheap, disgusting shot and he took it. And suddenly that honour didn’t mean much of anything because since then what have you really stood for? Absolutely f*ck all. All you do nowadays is walk around making out like you’re a big deal because you’ve got that International Championship because the moment you got that title nothing else mattered to you because suddenly you had your vindication. You had a belt that told people you mattered, the same way you once had a revolution, and that’s all you care about. So how about we stop acting like the past means anything when the only thing that matters is the here and now. And right here, right now, there’s a few things I do know to be certain.
Frank Lynn’s days as champion are numbered, Ante Whitner’s dwindling career is about to finally come to a halt and Tyler Draven will once again remind everyone that there is only one thing that you should be talking about, that there is only one thing that matters.
Me.