Do or Die RP - The Hammer and the Nail
Nov 2, 2019 13:41:02 GMT -5
Johnny Mason, hazarrd, and 1 more like this
Post by King Richius on Nov 2, 2019 13:41:02 GMT -5
Prologue: Waking the Dragon
Framingham, MA - 10/21/19
A flatbed tow truck with the wreck of an Impala on the back pulls up to a ornate wrought iron gate that is part of a ten foot tall gothic wrought iron fence surrounding the Lynn property. The fence is new, added recently as part of a security upgrade following the theft of the car that is now being returned in less than pristine condition.
Drakz won’t have such an easy time getting onto Frank Lynn’s property if he tries again. In addition to the fence are a half dozen cameras proving full coverage of the property and motion sensors around the house and barn all linked to an automated system that will notify the police at the first sign of trouble. There were a few false alarms as the system was tweaked to ignore small animals that prowled around at night but now it was working fine. Sheriff Phil Lynott approved, chastising Frank for not getting a proper security system sooner.
It still didn’t give Frank the feeling of security he wanted for himself and his family. No unwelcome visitor would ever get that close to his wife and daughter again.
Drakz was here, just a hundred feet from the house where he, his wife, and his little girl were sleeping. He only came for the car but what if? Frank would never feel safe and secure until he erased the what ifs from his mind, something which would take so much more than an overpriced security system.
Frank waited inside the gate on the side of the driveway, the sight of his beloved Impala serving as a grim reminder that Drakz was here. He stood in the chill autumn breeze and muttered to himself.
F*** you Drakz.
After the tow truck was inside the property and heading towards the garage, Frank started to close the gate. He was interrupted by a car horn. A Lincoln Continental, the preferred rental car of the rich and pampered, was at the gate. The rear window rolled down and Lila Sleater’s smiling face peered out.
Frank let the car in, grumbling to himself that the fence had already failed at keeping out unwelcome visitors.
The car followed the tow truck. Frank followed both on foot, taking his time so Lila could stew for a bit. By the time he got to the garage, the tow truck driver was already preparing to lower the Impala while Lila micro-managed his every move, stressing how the car was very important and needed to be treated with care.
Bullsh*t. Thanks to Drakz, the car was a wreck and any TLC was wasted on it. Lila was putting on a show for Frank. She couldn’t care less about the Impala. She was worried about Frank’s ultimatum. So many of her cash cows had gone out to pasture. She couldn’t afford to lose another.
Frank girded himself for the hard sell that was sure to come and approached Lila.
Hello Frank. As promised, the WFWF has delivered your car to you in as good a condition as possible. Don’t worry about the cost, we’ve got it covered.
Thanks. I hope you take it out of Drakz’ paycheck.
Or you’ll take it out of his hide?
Believe me, I’m going to get my pound of flesh from that bastard.
Lila wraps her coat a little tighter around her in response to a chill that is less due to the fall temperatures and more due to the icy cold hatred in Frank’s voice.
Actually, it could be up to you exactly how I get it.
The ultimatum. A title match or you walk. Has Drakz’ act of larceny changed your stance any? Is the desire for revenge enough to keep you around without a title match at Survival of the Fittest?
Hell no. My desire for justice changes nothing. You know damn well that I deserve a title shot as much as if not more than anyone else in the company not named Zmey. I got tired of waiting for you to notice so I took matters into my own hands. The GFL sees my value and is willing to give me a title shot. So should you.
Lila is taken aback. For the first time that she can remember, Frank has actually split his focus. Usually he has blinders on to anything other than his one singular goal, whatever it may be at the time. But now he has split his attention between the title and Drakz. Convenient that Drakz happens to hold the title Frank wants but that could change at Do or Die. Lila can tell that won’t make a difference to Frank. He wants both. Lila shivers again at the thought of what he might do.
Another WFWF wrestler turned psycho. Frank Lynn deserved better than what the WFWF had given him. Why did it always turn out like this? Was there no one who could withstand the pressures of the WFWF without becoming an animal?
I’d love to give you a title shot but it’s complicated. You ran the show for one night and look at how quickly that went off the rails. Now imagine trying to run the show EVERY day.
Bullsh*t corporate excuses. I’ve made it simple for you. Give me a title shot at Survival of the Fittest or I will be fighting for the GFL heavyweight title in Vegas instead.
I’ll see what I can do but no promises.
Guess I’ll see in Glasgow where you better have a definitive answer. You can leave now. I want to check on the Impala.
Wisely, Lila gets back in the Lincoln and is driven away followed by the tow truck, whose job is done, leaving Frank alone with the Impala. He walks around it, his gaze turning sad as he assays the damage done by Drakz. With a sigh and a shrug, he closes the garage door and walks back to the house, looking around him with one thought repeating over and over in his head.
Drakz was here!
Do or Die RP
The Hammer and the Nail
featuring Frank Lynn
”Only those who will risk going too far can possibly find out how far they can go.”
- TS Eliot
Boston, MA : 10/24/19
The Squeaky Wheel
A.M.
You can wake up now Frank.
I wasn’t actually asleep but I might as well have been for all the attention I was paying to the monthly Legacy business meeting. It was sometime during the PowerPoint presentation full of graphs on attendance and TV ratings that I truly lived up to my role as silent partner.
I pretended to be taking notes on my iPhone but in truth I was watching clips of Drakz and Zmey matches in between texts from Daphne about getting my ass out of this damn meeting and down into the gym for training.
So for all intents and purposes Abe was quite right to tell me I could wake up.
Thanks for the heads up but isn’t it best if I stay out of the way during these borefests while you and and Sarah take care of business? You two do such a good job of it. You don’t need me f***ing things up.
I made sure to wait until the lesser suits were out of the conference room before making that comment. It wouldn’t do to have the hired help thinking I didn’t care about Legacy. I do care… a LOT. It’s just that at the moment I have much more important matters on my mind concerning my own career and whether it will be in the WFWF or the GFL.
Everything about my career, my goals, my achievements, my very place in the pantheon of combat sports athletes is on the line. All of my own doing. I’m finally taking charge and making things happen. If it works then good for me. If not I’ll have no one to blame but the face in the mirror.
No pressure, right?
Only Abe and Sarah remain in he conference room, the same looks of concern on their faces as has been since I delivered my ultimatum to the WFWF.
You underestimate your value to Legacy. Your input as an active wrestler is invaluable to how we run the business. I daresay our talent is far more happy with Legacy than any WFWF wrestler is with the ship Lila and Kash are running into the ground.
I agree one hundred and ten per cent. WE don’t have any wrestlers threatening to quit if they lose a match or blackmailing the company into title matches they deserve but can’t get. And none of our roster is laying in a hospital bed with severe head trauma.
Just doing my small part to make this business a little better. Something I learned from Joe Bishop… before he went batsh*t crazy and started hating on the WFWF like a bitter ex-wife.
It’s true, I do want to leave professional wrestling better than when I found it despite my recent actions seeming to be very selfish, almost heelish in nature. Joe believed being the top champion in the company would allow him to make a difference. So do I. It’s always been a secondary goal of mine ever since the Revolution died while my primary concern has been to continue to test myself against the best, improve my skills, and reach the top of the mountain. To be the best. To be the new constant of the WFWF.
Wrestling fans deserve someone better than that pompous @ss Drakz. If Zmey can’t get the job done, and how can he after being run over by MY Impala, then it’s up to me. I’ve done all I can as International Champion. It’s time to take the next step, the final step in my ascent up the WFWF ladder.
So those looks you two have been giving me for weeks now aren’t of the disapproving kind? You two are cool with what I’m doing?
Of course we are! I’ve never supported any decision you’ve made more than this one. I haven’t always approved of everything you’ve done in the WFWF, normal concern over your safety that any wife would have for the father of her child, but this time you got it right.
Absolutely. You have to hit the WFWF where it hurts, right in the bank account. If you leave their cash flow shrinks. That’s how you get their attention! This is all assuming you really do have an offer from Sammy at GFL for a title fight…
Sarah steps in to answer Abe’s concern before I can. She’s the one with the business degree in the family and she would have drawn a line in the sand with flaming oil if my ultimatum was just a grand bluff worthy of the world’s best poker player.
Oh hell yes the offer is real. I handled some of the potential contract negotiations for Frank. Sammy is serious. He wants Frank back in the GFL and will do almost anything to make it happen.
Well then, ‘nuff said. That’s not concern on my face Frank. It’s anticipation for the WFWF’s decision. The suspense is killing me. I know I would give you the title match a.s.a.p. but I can’t speak for that crazy bitch Lila.
In that case, I have a favor to ask of you. I need to borrow the Dixons for Do or Die.
Indeed, I have plans for another ultimatum to be delivered at Do or Die and the Dixons are key to making sure I can deliver it to my intended target.
I trust your judgement. As long as they don’t mind and you cover any expenses, they’re yours for the night.
What do you need the Dixons for? You’re not going to do something stupid are you, like stick your nose into the main event and make sure Drakz wins? I know how much you want revenge for what he did to the car and taking the belt from him would be very effective revenge.
Nothing so rash. I’m perfectly happy to sit back and watch Drakz and Zmey destroy each other. Hell, Drakz already started the process at the last show. I need the Dixons for their imposing physical presence, not their innate ability for violence. As for my specific plan, you’ll have to wait just like everybody else to see what I have in mind. Suffice it so say that you miss every shot you don’t take. I’ve got a another bullet in the chamber and I’m going to shoot it at Do or Die.
That seems to satisfy Sarah and Abe. I really don’t want to say any more about my plan. I haven’t told a soul what my plan is, not even Daphne who will certainly be a part of it. The element of surprise is as important as the presence of the Dixons. It simply wouldn’t do for word of what I have in mind to somehow get back to my target.
Bottom line is I will get my title match. The squeaky wheel gets the grease. I plan to be covered in grease from head to toe by the time Do or Die is over.
I already asked the Dixons and they’re up for a free vacation. I hope the UK survives them. I’d hate to be at what ever pub they decide to get some fish and chips at. They can get a little wild after a few lagers. Heh heh.
There’s not much else left to say so the three of us leave the conference room and go our separate ways. Abe is probably off to take a shot of two from the bottle in his desk. Sarah will surely get right to work turning the talk of the meeting into actions, keeping Legacy running smooth a silk. I’m off downstairs to the gym and Daphne, who has probably been waiting impatiently for me to start today’s training.
Hell, there is no probably about it. I’m sure she has been making everyone miserable because I’m up here wasting valuable training time on paperwork instead of preparing for my match.
P.M.
*SLAP*
Daphne’s hand leaves a red mark on my face.
I was pretty happy with how the training session was going.
We practiced counters to all of Drakz’ favorite moves. He may be an @sshole but he is a formidable wrestler. Underestimating him is a fatal mistake many have made in the past. I don’t plan to join that club.
As for Zmey, he’s a walking mountain who requires his own special strategy. Since I can’t bring a wrecking ball to the ring I have to come up with ways to chop him down to size. Lots of moves to take him off his feet and put him in submissions that he may not tap to but will certainly put a hurting on his arms and legs so that he isn’t quite so limber. To beat Zmey I will have to keep chipping away at him until I can hit the big finish.
I thought it was all going so well until Daphne’s hand left a lasting impression on my face.
Who is your opponent at Do or Die?
I actually have to think about it for a moment.
Bad luck Johnny. I wouldn’t be surprised if he trips on the way to the ring and breaks an ankle.
* SLAP *
That’s right! You’re facing Johnny Mason. Not Drakz or Zmey! So why are you training for Drakz and Zmey?
Because if I can beat them, then Johnny should be low hanging fruit I can choke out in my sleep?
Better keep that thought to myself or I could get another slap to the face.
You’re looking past Mason towards a title match you may not even get. I wouldn’t be surprised if Lila says no to your ultimatum out of spite. She’s got quite an ego and you walked all over it.
We’re talking about the same Johnny Mason, aren’t we? A rookie who is years away from being a real threat to anybody? If I’m ready to beat Drakz or Zmey, then I should be more than ready for him.
* SLAP *
Dammit! I knew it was coming and still wasn’t prepared.
It’s a damn good thing you have me because at least one of us has been paying attention. Do you remember how things changed for you after the murders of your mother and friends? How you turned that into the start of your rise to the top?
I’d hate to think I got any benefit from their deaths but it did light a fire under my ass. I’ll give you that.
Johnny’s in a similar spot. Between his kid and the Father, he’s a ticking time bomb ready to explode. You could be caught in the explosion Frank. Stop preparing for a match that may not even happen. You need to prepare for Mason! Expect the unexpected.
Daphne’s getting really worked up over Mason. Does she see something in him that I’ve missed. I haven’t watched a lot of tape but what I have seen wasn’t very impressive.
Come on Daphne. We’re talking about a card carrying member of the curtain jerker club. Compared to Draven, Whitner, and Thunder he should be a cake walk.
* SLAP *
Dammit, this is getting old now. Enough slapping of the face.
Grrr. You’re making the cliche mistake of looking past your opponent to greater glory. You shocked the world when you beat Trace Demon. Johnny could shock the world and beat you. What would that do to your claim to a world title match?
Not much because it isn’t going to happen.
Stop worrying. I got this. Mason will go to sleep and then its onto the winner of Drakz versus Zmey… or to the GFL to face Mauricio Silva.
She goes to slap me again but I catch her wrist and stop her. My face hurts enough from her previous slaps.
She looks at me angrily, pulls her arm away from me, and struts over to her gym bag. She comes back with her phone in hand, sticking it in my face so I can see some item of interest.
News flash Frank! Johnny Mason is coming for you! He is a serious threat, as is any wrestler who makes it this far. A WFWF curtain jerker is still one of the most dangerous men on the planet. If you won’t believe me, then read this!
So what? Johnny’s been busy on social media, spouting some crap about who does or doesn’t deserve title shots, who does or doesn’t respect the WFWF championships. It doesn’t hit home as much as he’d like because I know what I’ve done and I deserve a title shot while he hasn’t done a damn thing yet. From what I’ve seen when he’s at his best he might be lucky to beat his way out of a wet paper bag. Typical all bark and no bite bullsh*t promo stuff.
What the hell is this crap at the end?
Man to bitch, where are your balls!
Is he f***ing serious?
I’ve gone toe to toe with past champions and Hall of Famers, if the WFWF actually had a Hall of Fame that is. I’m the longest reigning International Champion in WFWF history and the longest current reigning champion in the company by a long shot. When my name is called, I don’t back down. I show up and put on the match of the night.
Man to bitch, where are your balls!
Johnny Mason wants to question my manhood. What a delusional douchebag. My balls have been on display for the entire WFWF to see for the last two years.
His balls haven’t even dropped yet.
My blood boils as the Lynn temper kicks in. I know Daphne just manipulated me like a pro but I don’t care. Putting Mason in his place just became my top priority, pushing thoughts of a world title shot and revenge against Drakz for stealing the Impala to the back burner.
Okay Daphne. You have my full attention. Or should I say Johnny does. Stupid son of a bitch just stuck his foot in his mouth. He won’t be making his name at my expense.
Daphne smiles and cracks her knuckles.
About f***ing time! Now we can finally get to work preparing for your actual opponent!
We work late into the evening, sparring and watching video of Johnny’s every move. Daphne drives me hard as if this is a fight for the world title.
And so it goes for the next two weeks. There’s not much more I can do with regards to my ultimatum to Lila or my plans for step two anyway. It’s a waiting game until the night of Do or Die. So Daphne and I have two solid weeks of training exclusively to prepare me to beat Johnny Mason and make sure he doesn’t live up to his words.
Man to bitch, where are your balls!
Johnny’s going to find out in Glasgow.
Glasgow, Scotland : 11/7/19
Don’t Poke the Bear
Hello Johnny. Ever hear the old saying: Don’t poke the bear? I’m guessing NO because you done did it and now you’re in it neck deep. The bear is hungry and you look like a tasty meal.
See, it would have been very easy for you to quietly fly under the radar and hope that the majority of my attention stayed focused on Drakz, Zmey, and the WFWF World Heavyweight Championship. I was definitely heading down that path since you have done absolutely nothing of any significance since arriving in the WFWF so I really wasn’t worried about beating your ass. Perfect scenario for you to sneak in and pull off an upset that would raise your stock in the eyes of management and get you a rematch for my title. Its happened in the past with Mak Cross.
But you had to go on a drunken rant on the internet.
I hope you were drunk because if you truly believe any of that drivel you spewed then you may be the most delusional idiot on the planet.
You are operating under the illusion that I book matches and I decided our match wouldn’t be for my title. You must have missed my announcement at the last show because it should be f***ing obvious from what I said that I don’t book anything around here. You got a problem with our match not being for my title, take it up with Lila or Carrot Top or the midget under the ring.
Then you made the biggest mistake of your career. Maybe even of your life.
You called me a bitch.
I think Trace Demon once called me a bitch. Take a look at the two of us now. Which one of us is the longest reigning International Champion ever and which one is doing a damn good imitation of a cabbage?
There’s a lesson to be learned.
You don’t poke the bear.
You don’t tug on Superman’s cape.
You don’t call Frank Lynn a bitch.
All your little rant did was make you the center of my attention for Do or Die. There will be no flying under the radar and pulling off the upset victory. Any chance you had for a fairy tale ending where you somehow beat me just flew out the window. Cinderalla won’t be getting her prince but on the bright side she will be getting f***ed.
I’m going to give you an ass kicking you may never recover from. You want to run your mouth and insult me, question my manhood?
I’m going to show you the error of your ways and shut your mouth. Maybe permanently if the referee and security aren’t quick enough at breaking the Dasochoku I’m going to slap on you so tight that there will be no blood in that empty little head of yours. You’d be surprised how quickly the brain can suffer permanent damage without blood.
I have to admit, I’m impressed that you have such lofty goals after such a short and unspectacular start to your WFWF career. Reminds me of… well… me.
Drakz and Joshua Dean made sure I got over myself. Now I’m going to do the same to you.
In this battle, I’m the champ and you’re the bitch.
Bark. Roll over. Fetch. PLAY DEAD!
I do hope you can learn from this because before your rant I thought you might be a nice guy who had a run of really bad luck both in and out of the ring.
Turns out you’re just another delusional @sshole.
Learn to walk before you try to run.
In other words, focus on surviving our match, not winning it.
Because you are going to lose.
That’s both a promise and a spoiler.
There is one bit of good news I have for you. I won’t be using any weapons when I beat you. I don’t need them.
I am the lethal weapon. My bare hands will be more than enough to twist you into a pretzel and make you cry for your momma.
You want know where my balls are? You’ll find out soon enough when they’re in your face.
Framingham, MA - 10/21/19
A flatbed tow truck with the wreck of an Impala on the back pulls up to a ornate wrought iron gate that is part of a ten foot tall gothic wrought iron fence surrounding the Lynn property. The fence is new, added recently as part of a security upgrade following the theft of the car that is now being returned in less than pristine condition.
Drakz won’t have such an easy time getting onto Frank Lynn’s property if he tries again. In addition to the fence are a half dozen cameras proving full coverage of the property and motion sensors around the house and barn all linked to an automated system that will notify the police at the first sign of trouble. There were a few false alarms as the system was tweaked to ignore small animals that prowled around at night but now it was working fine. Sheriff Phil Lynott approved, chastising Frank for not getting a proper security system sooner.
It still didn’t give Frank the feeling of security he wanted for himself and his family. No unwelcome visitor would ever get that close to his wife and daughter again.
Drakz was here, just a hundred feet from the house where he, his wife, and his little girl were sleeping. He only came for the car but what if? Frank would never feel safe and secure until he erased the what ifs from his mind, something which would take so much more than an overpriced security system.
Frank waited inside the gate on the side of the driveway, the sight of his beloved Impala serving as a grim reminder that Drakz was here. He stood in the chill autumn breeze and muttered to himself.
F*** you Drakz.
After the tow truck was inside the property and heading towards the garage, Frank started to close the gate. He was interrupted by a car horn. A Lincoln Continental, the preferred rental car of the rich and pampered, was at the gate. The rear window rolled down and Lila Sleater’s smiling face peered out.
Frank let the car in, grumbling to himself that the fence had already failed at keeping out unwelcome visitors.
The car followed the tow truck. Frank followed both on foot, taking his time so Lila could stew for a bit. By the time he got to the garage, the tow truck driver was already preparing to lower the Impala while Lila micro-managed his every move, stressing how the car was very important and needed to be treated with care.
Bullsh*t. Thanks to Drakz, the car was a wreck and any TLC was wasted on it. Lila was putting on a show for Frank. She couldn’t care less about the Impala. She was worried about Frank’s ultimatum. So many of her cash cows had gone out to pasture. She couldn’t afford to lose another.
Frank girded himself for the hard sell that was sure to come and approached Lila.
Hello Frank. As promised, the WFWF has delivered your car to you in as good a condition as possible. Don’t worry about the cost, we’ve got it covered.
Thanks. I hope you take it out of Drakz’ paycheck.
Or you’ll take it out of his hide?
Believe me, I’m going to get my pound of flesh from that bastard.
Lila wraps her coat a little tighter around her in response to a chill that is less due to the fall temperatures and more due to the icy cold hatred in Frank’s voice.
Actually, it could be up to you exactly how I get it.
The ultimatum. A title match or you walk. Has Drakz’ act of larceny changed your stance any? Is the desire for revenge enough to keep you around without a title match at Survival of the Fittest?
Hell no. My desire for justice changes nothing. You know damn well that I deserve a title shot as much as if not more than anyone else in the company not named Zmey. I got tired of waiting for you to notice so I took matters into my own hands. The GFL sees my value and is willing to give me a title shot. So should you.
Lila is taken aback. For the first time that she can remember, Frank has actually split his focus. Usually he has blinders on to anything other than his one singular goal, whatever it may be at the time. But now he has split his attention between the title and Drakz. Convenient that Drakz happens to hold the title Frank wants but that could change at Do or Die. Lila can tell that won’t make a difference to Frank. He wants both. Lila shivers again at the thought of what he might do.
Another WFWF wrestler turned psycho. Frank Lynn deserved better than what the WFWF had given him. Why did it always turn out like this? Was there no one who could withstand the pressures of the WFWF without becoming an animal?
I’d love to give you a title shot but it’s complicated. You ran the show for one night and look at how quickly that went off the rails. Now imagine trying to run the show EVERY day.
Bullsh*t corporate excuses. I’ve made it simple for you. Give me a title shot at Survival of the Fittest or I will be fighting for the GFL heavyweight title in Vegas instead.
I’ll see what I can do but no promises.
Guess I’ll see in Glasgow where you better have a definitive answer. You can leave now. I want to check on the Impala.
Wisely, Lila gets back in the Lincoln and is driven away followed by the tow truck, whose job is done, leaving Frank alone with the Impala. He walks around it, his gaze turning sad as he assays the damage done by Drakz. With a sigh and a shrug, he closes the garage door and walks back to the house, looking around him with one thought repeating over and over in his head.
Drakz was here!
Do or Die RP
The Hammer and the Nail
featuring Frank Lynn
”Only those who will risk going too far can possibly find out how far they can go.”
- TS Eliot
Boston, MA : 10/24/19
The Squeaky Wheel
A.M.
You can wake up now Frank.
I wasn’t actually asleep but I might as well have been for all the attention I was paying to the monthly Legacy business meeting. It was sometime during the PowerPoint presentation full of graphs on attendance and TV ratings that I truly lived up to my role as silent partner.
I pretended to be taking notes on my iPhone but in truth I was watching clips of Drakz and Zmey matches in between texts from Daphne about getting my ass out of this damn meeting and down into the gym for training.
So for all intents and purposes Abe was quite right to tell me I could wake up.
Thanks for the heads up but isn’t it best if I stay out of the way during these borefests while you and and Sarah take care of business? You two do such a good job of it. You don’t need me f***ing things up.
I made sure to wait until the lesser suits were out of the conference room before making that comment. It wouldn’t do to have the hired help thinking I didn’t care about Legacy. I do care… a LOT. It’s just that at the moment I have much more important matters on my mind concerning my own career and whether it will be in the WFWF or the GFL.
Everything about my career, my goals, my achievements, my very place in the pantheon of combat sports athletes is on the line. All of my own doing. I’m finally taking charge and making things happen. If it works then good for me. If not I’ll have no one to blame but the face in the mirror.
No pressure, right?
Only Abe and Sarah remain in he conference room, the same looks of concern on their faces as has been since I delivered my ultimatum to the WFWF.
You underestimate your value to Legacy. Your input as an active wrestler is invaluable to how we run the business. I daresay our talent is far more happy with Legacy than any WFWF wrestler is with the ship Lila and Kash are running into the ground.
I agree one hundred and ten per cent. WE don’t have any wrestlers threatening to quit if they lose a match or blackmailing the company into title matches they deserve but can’t get. And none of our roster is laying in a hospital bed with severe head trauma.
Just doing my small part to make this business a little better. Something I learned from Joe Bishop… before he went batsh*t crazy and started hating on the WFWF like a bitter ex-wife.
It’s true, I do want to leave professional wrestling better than when I found it despite my recent actions seeming to be very selfish, almost heelish in nature. Joe believed being the top champion in the company would allow him to make a difference. So do I. It’s always been a secondary goal of mine ever since the Revolution died while my primary concern has been to continue to test myself against the best, improve my skills, and reach the top of the mountain. To be the best. To be the new constant of the WFWF.
Wrestling fans deserve someone better than that pompous @ss Drakz. If Zmey can’t get the job done, and how can he after being run over by MY Impala, then it’s up to me. I’ve done all I can as International Champion. It’s time to take the next step, the final step in my ascent up the WFWF ladder.
So those looks you two have been giving me for weeks now aren’t of the disapproving kind? You two are cool with what I’m doing?
Of course we are! I’ve never supported any decision you’ve made more than this one. I haven’t always approved of everything you’ve done in the WFWF, normal concern over your safety that any wife would have for the father of her child, but this time you got it right.
Absolutely. You have to hit the WFWF where it hurts, right in the bank account. If you leave their cash flow shrinks. That’s how you get their attention! This is all assuming you really do have an offer from Sammy at GFL for a title fight…
Sarah steps in to answer Abe’s concern before I can. She’s the one with the business degree in the family and she would have drawn a line in the sand with flaming oil if my ultimatum was just a grand bluff worthy of the world’s best poker player.
Oh hell yes the offer is real. I handled some of the potential contract negotiations for Frank. Sammy is serious. He wants Frank back in the GFL and will do almost anything to make it happen.
Well then, ‘nuff said. That’s not concern on my face Frank. It’s anticipation for the WFWF’s decision. The suspense is killing me. I know I would give you the title match a.s.a.p. but I can’t speak for that crazy bitch Lila.
In that case, I have a favor to ask of you. I need to borrow the Dixons for Do or Die.
Indeed, I have plans for another ultimatum to be delivered at Do or Die and the Dixons are key to making sure I can deliver it to my intended target.
I trust your judgement. As long as they don’t mind and you cover any expenses, they’re yours for the night.
What do you need the Dixons for? You’re not going to do something stupid are you, like stick your nose into the main event and make sure Drakz wins? I know how much you want revenge for what he did to the car and taking the belt from him would be very effective revenge.
Nothing so rash. I’m perfectly happy to sit back and watch Drakz and Zmey destroy each other. Hell, Drakz already started the process at the last show. I need the Dixons for their imposing physical presence, not their innate ability for violence. As for my specific plan, you’ll have to wait just like everybody else to see what I have in mind. Suffice it so say that you miss every shot you don’t take. I’ve got a another bullet in the chamber and I’m going to shoot it at Do or Die.
That seems to satisfy Sarah and Abe. I really don’t want to say any more about my plan. I haven’t told a soul what my plan is, not even Daphne who will certainly be a part of it. The element of surprise is as important as the presence of the Dixons. It simply wouldn’t do for word of what I have in mind to somehow get back to my target.
Bottom line is I will get my title match. The squeaky wheel gets the grease. I plan to be covered in grease from head to toe by the time Do or Die is over.
I already asked the Dixons and they’re up for a free vacation. I hope the UK survives them. I’d hate to be at what ever pub they decide to get some fish and chips at. They can get a little wild after a few lagers. Heh heh.
There’s not much else left to say so the three of us leave the conference room and go our separate ways. Abe is probably off to take a shot of two from the bottle in his desk. Sarah will surely get right to work turning the talk of the meeting into actions, keeping Legacy running smooth a silk. I’m off downstairs to the gym and Daphne, who has probably been waiting impatiently for me to start today’s training.
Hell, there is no probably about it. I’m sure she has been making everyone miserable because I’m up here wasting valuable training time on paperwork instead of preparing for my match.
P.M.
*SLAP*
Daphne’s hand leaves a red mark on my face.
I was pretty happy with how the training session was going.
We practiced counters to all of Drakz’ favorite moves. He may be an @sshole but he is a formidable wrestler. Underestimating him is a fatal mistake many have made in the past. I don’t plan to join that club.
As for Zmey, he’s a walking mountain who requires his own special strategy. Since I can’t bring a wrecking ball to the ring I have to come up with ways to chop him down to size. Lots of moves to take him off his feet and put him in submissions that he may not tap to but will certainly put a hurting on his arms and legs so that he isn’t quite so limber. To beat Zmey I will have to keep chipping away at him until I can hit the big finish.
I thought it was all going so well until Daphne’s hand left a lasting impression on my face.
Who is your opponent at Do or Die?
I actually have to think about it for a moment.
Bad luck Johnny. I wouldn’t be surprised if he trips on the way to the ring and breaks an ankle.
* SLAP *
That’s right! You’re facing Johnny Mason. Not Drakz or Zmey! So why are you training for Drakz and Zmey?
Because if I can beat them, then Johnny should be low hanging fruit I can choke out in my sleep?
Better keep that thought to myself or I could get another slap to the face.
You’re looking past Mason towards a title match you may not even get. I wouldn’t be surprised if Lila says no to your ultimatum out of spite. She’s got quite an ego and you walked all over it.
We’re talking about the same Johnny Mason, aren’t we? A rookie who is years away from being a real threat to anybody? If I’m ready to beat Drakz or Zmey, then I should be more than ready for him.
* SLAP *
Dammit! I knew it was coming and still wasn’t prepared.
It’s a damn good thing you have me because at least one of us has been paying attention. Do you remember how things changed for you after the murders of your mother and friends? How you turned that into the start of your rise to the top?
I’d hate to think I got any benefit from their deaths but it did light a fire under my ass. I’ll give you that.
Johnny’s in a similar spot. Between his kid and the Father, he’s a ticking time bomb ready to explode. You could be caught in the explosion Frank. Stop preparing for a match that may not even happen. You need to prepare for Mason! Expect the unexpected.
Daphne’s getting really worked up over Mason. Does she see something in him that I’ve missed. I haven’t watched a lot of tape but what I have seen wasn’t very impressive.
Come on Daphne. We’re talking about a card carrying member of the curtain jerker club. Compared to Draven, Whitner, and Thunder he should be a cake walk.
* SLAP *
Dammit, this is getting old now. Enough slapping of the face.
Grrr. You’re making the cliche mistake of looking past your opponent to greater glory. You shocked the world when you beat Trace Demon. Johnny could shock the world and beat you. What would that do to your claim to a world title match?
Not much because it isn’t going to happen.
Stop worrying. I got this. Mason will go to sleep and then its onto the winner of Drakz versus Zmey… or to the GFL to face Mauricio Silva.
She goes to slap me again but I catch her wrist and stop her. My face hurts enough from her previous slaps.
She looks at me angrily, pulls her arm away from me, and struts over to her gym bag. She comes back with her phone in hand, sticking it in my face so I can see some item of interest.
News flash Frank! Johnny Mason is coming for you! He is a serious threat, as is any wrestler who makes it this far. A WFWF curtain jerker is still one of the most dangerous men on the planet. If you won’t believe me, then read this!
So what? Johnny’s been busy on social media, spouting some crap about who does or doesn’t deserve title shots, who does or doesn’t respect the WFWF championships. It doesn’t hit home as much as he’d like because I know what I’ve done and I deserve a title shot while he hasn’t done a damn thing yet. From what I’ve seen when he’s at his best he might be lucky to beat his way out of a wet paper bag. Typical all bark and no bite bullsh*t promo stuff.
What the hell is this crap at the end?
Man to bitch, where are your balls!
Is he f***ing serious?
I’ve gone toe to toe with past champions and Hall of Famers, if the WFWF actually had a Hall of Fame that is. I’m the longest reigning International Champion in WFWF history and the longest current reigning champion in the company by a long shot. When my name is called, I don’t back down. I show up and put on the match of the night.
Man to bitch, where are your balls!
Johnny Mason wants to question my manhood. What a delusional douchebag. My balls have been on display for the entire WFWF to see for the last two years.
His balls haven’t even dropped yet.
My blood boils as the Lynn temper kicks in. I know Daphne just manipulated me like a pro but I don’t care. Putting Mason in his place just became my top priority, pushing thoughts of a world title shot and revenge against Drakz for stealing the Impala to the back burner.
Okay Daphne. You have my full attention. Or should I say Johnny does. Stupid son of a bitch just stuck his foot in his mouth. He won’t be making his name at my expense.
Daphne smiles and cracks her knuckles.
About f***ing time! Now we can finally get to work preparing for your actual opponent!
We work late into the evening, sparring and watching video of Johnny’s every move. Daphne drives me hard as if this is a fight for the world title.
And so it goes for the next two weeks. There’s not much more I can do with regards to my ultimatum to Lila or my plans for step two anyway. It’s a waiting game until the night of Do or Die. So Daphne and I have two solid weeks of training exclusively to prepare me to beat Johnny Mason and make sure he doesn’t live up to his words.
Man to bitch, where are your balls!
Johnny’s going to find out in Glasgow.
Glasgow, Scotland : 11/7/19
Don’t Poke the Bear
Hello Johnny. Ever hear the old saying: Don’t poke the bear? I’m guessing NO because you done did it and now you’re in it neck deep. The bear is hungry and you look like a tasty meal.
See, it would have been very easy for you to quietly fly under the radar and hope that the majority of my attention stayed focused on Drakz, Zmey, and the WFWF World Heavyweight Championship. I was definitely heading down that path since you have done absolutely nothing of any significance since arriving in the WFWF so I really wasn’t worried about beating your ass. Perfect scenario for you to sneak in and pull off an upset that would raise your stock in the eyes of management and get you a rematch for my title. Its happened in the past with Mak Cross.
But you had to go on a drunken rant on the internet.
I hope you were drunk because if you truly believe any of that drivel you spewed then you may be the most delusional idiot on the planet.
You are operating under the illusion that I book matches and I decided our match wouldn’t be for my title. You must have missed my announcement at the last show because it should be f***ing obvious from what I said that I don’t book anything around here. You got a problem with our match not being for my title, take it up with Lila or Carrot Top or the midget under the ring.
Then you made the biggest mistake of your career. Maybe even of your life.
You called me a bitch.
I think Trace Demon once called me a bitch. Take a look at the two of us now. Which one of us is the longest reigning International Champion ever and which one is doing a damn good imitation of a cabbage?
There’s a lesson to be learned.
You don’t poke the bear.
You don’t tug on Superman’s cape.
You don’t call Frank Lynn a bitch.
All your little rant did was make you the center of my attention for Do or Die. There will be no flying under the radar and pulling off the upset victory. Any chance you had for a fairy tale ending where you somehow beat me just flew out the window. Cinderalla won’t be getting her prince but on the bright side she will be getting f***ed.
I’m going to give you an ass kicking you may never recover from. You want to run your mouth and insult me, question my manhood?
I’m going to show you the error of your ways and shut your mouth. Maybe permanently if the referee and security aren’t quick enough at breaking the Dasochoku I’m going to slap on you so tight that there will be no blood in that empty little head of yours. You’d be surprised how quickly the brain can suffer permanent damage without blood.
I have to admit, I’m impressed that you have such lofty goals after such a short and unspectacular start to your WFWF career. Reminds me of… well… me.
Drakz and Joshua Dean made sure I got over myself. Now I’m going to do the same to you.
In this battle, I’m the champ and you’re the bitch.
Bark. Roll over. Fetch. PLAY DEAD!
I do hope you can learn from this because before your rant I thought you might be a nice guy who had a run of really bad luck both in and out of the ring.
Turns out you’re just another delusional @sshole.
Learn to walk before you try to run.
In other words, focus on surviving our match, not winning it.
Because you are going to lose.
That’s both a promise and a spoiler.
There is one bit of good news I have for you. I won’t be using any weapons when I beat you. I don’t need them.
I am the lethal weapon. My bare hands will be more than enough to twist you into a pretzel and make you cry for your momma.
You want know where my balls are? You’ll find out soon enough when they’re in your face.
