Post by Dex on Jul 13, 2015 14:10:11 GMT -5
Am I Afraid?
Grayson Cain Episode I
“All my life I feel like I’ve been entrenched into fighting a relentless war; at times I often question whether or not the triumph was worth the means.”Grayson Cain initially spews, as the crispness of his words are accentuated by the chilly coastline breeze. Sitting calmly beside him on the beachside pier, with their hands entwined, is his wife Keira Vonleh. Her hair a magnificent dark brown that sways lightly as the wind passes, her eyes a vibrant green that deters away from the darkness of the night.
“And what conclusion do you always end up with?” She responds, removing her hand from his, now she begins to lean with all of her weight atop his strong, broad shoulders.
“Around the arms of a pretty girl, it’s always obvious. The ends justify the means indefinitely.” Grayson states with the illusion of confidence, his face is quite clearly constrained, his eyes squinting in an irregular V-like position, his lips pegged together, as if tied by thread and needle.
“Grayson. You know that’s the one lingering phrase, I’ve been dying to hear you say. Ever since our marriage two years ago.”
“I know honey. But there just always comes a point in time, where no good can come from bad; where life itself will simply arrive at your doorstep and deliver an impending blow. I can’t help but sense that joining the WFWF will be my final undoing.” The words slowly imp out of Grayson’s mouth with slight reluctance, he is clearly battling within himself, as the grasp of grandeur can be quite clearly seen through the WFWF, but he has come and grown to understand his prior wrongdoings, will inevitably catch up to him.
“Nothing bad will happen. You convinced me of all of this; I was horrified when I first found out what you were doing to earn a paycheck. I used to think of the people, their families; but the one thing that you taught me is that no matter what, the only place left for us to go is up. Now we’re at the foregrounds of up, Gray; if nothing stopped us then, nothing will ever come between us now.” She delivers her speech with the utmost confidence, Grayson now appears slightly vibrant once more, his lips returning to their natural muscular position, the coloring in his skin now less of a greyish pale. It is quite clear that Grayson in this instance, needed the somewhat calming reassurance of another person to justify it all; any person would battle with their morality had they done what he had, but as always, his intent is questionable.
“You’re right. But do you think that the WFWF is really the direction we should be heading in? I’d like to think that I could simply magically prolong my body, to the point where thirty four is no longer that, but I can’t. I want us to start something new something that we’ve always shared mutual interest in, creating a family and settle down for once. With me possibly out on tour for months, even if we had kids, I wouldn’t be the father I’ve always wanted to be.” A moment of calming sincerity is shared between the two lovers.
“Gray. Listen baby; I’m here with you, and I want to see you succeed; more so than giving birth to children. You mean everything to me.” She calmly speaks out, as she is in clear admiration of the modesty spoken by her husband.
“Did I ever tell you; that you’re the ever woman I’ve ever loved?” Grayson methodically speaks out, as his once quite painstakingly serious tone is broken in slight gigglish childlike laughter quickly following his almost abruptly placed statement. His laughter is met in response by Keira, whose cheeks have entirely blossomed into bright red; as she and her husband gaze upon the beautiful site of the crashing, glistening waves.
While their journey has been questionable up to this point, the two lovers now approach their biggest opportunity, yet they are well aware that it will be their grandest challenge; the merciless inner workings of the WFWF; where their former brilliant machinations will stand no chance against the brilliant competitors that all intend to solidify their standings as champions.
---
A well intentioned untruth?
Grayson Cain’s Home in Hatteras, North Carolina
It had been a few nights since Grayson had signed his initial contract to the WFWF; it had seemed as if Grayson had no longer any obstacle left to face, though it was quick clear, that the only thing capable of deteriorating away at his own personal image, was himself.
Grayson had been calmly laying in the sweet supreme comfort of his own bed, his legs entirely covered by soft indigo fabric, as his wife, Keira, had been entrenched in a deep sleep. Grayson hadn’t slept properly in what had felt like forever as dark circles had begun to establish their prominent presence below his once glistening eyes, though, his insomniac behavior had solely arisen recently, following his agreement with the WFWF. Grayson’s lack of sleep certainly wasn’t attributed to his lack of alcohol consumption, it was of what he had once forgotten.
Grayson had begun to slowly shut his eyes; and in the short instance of time that they had been closed, he had felt as if he was nine years old again.
In his own eyes he had seen himself again, returned with the youth that he had lost. His appearance had been vastly different; removing his extravagant smile as well as his charming allure, removing the facial hair that had hid the constraints of his muscles along his cheeks as he bit down in pain. Though the one thing that had been constant had been his eyes. His eyes had always appeared as if he was in a dazed confusion; his eyes slightly tilted to the left, his pupils smaller than usual, as if constrained. The same eyes had seen the same things.
It was little Grayson Cain, the tips of his toes eloquently maintaining his balance along the old and worn out rail-way that had encircled his barren childhood home in Dare County, North Carolina. He had been traveling along the rail-way for hours; back and forth he would traverse in hopes of encountering a friend that had just recently passed. He was in clear denial, once more awaiting his ‘father’s’ calming embrace. His face indicated this very though, as the deep dark blue bags beneath his eyes only continued to grow worse, as his cheeks had been continuously stained by the stream of his own tears. He would whistle a harmonic tune that his ‘father’ had once previously taught him; though as he approached its highest pitch, his voice would crackle into an array of tears, causing him to restart his despondent song once more.
He had looked back at his formerly clenched palms to observe the white gold chain that had been previously hung around his neck; it was another gift that had been given to him by his father; or rather the man that he had deemed worthy of the title before his sudden passing.
The chain entwined with smaller links, all creating a unifying bond. It was the only segment of stability, that he had left in his life. Grayson was once more alone, awaiting the next venture in his life with questioning despair; simply counting the days until his new environment would knock once more at his door, to find a lone child with no where to go. He was afraid.
Grayson’s eyes were once more lit ablaze, as he awoke in a mad fury, his pupils dilated; his breathing had accelerated from its usual prolonged state, his fear accompanied by a riveting shout delivered at the top of his lungs.
“No!” Grayson let out a bloodcurdling plea, as his clear desperation began to rivet along the walls. His wife, still entranced in sleep, is on the verge of awakening, as seen by her constant squirming along the bedside.
“I can’t….I can’t ever let that happen again……” He slowly mutters, while attempting to exhale and slow his ever quickening heart. The consistent booms of his heart-beat still continue, as his bare chest continues its irregular, quite disfigured pattern of, upwards, and downwards.
“Wilson….” Grayson continued in his muttered, nearly deranged tone; as his wife finally awoke to her nearly distraught husband.
“Grayson, what..what’s going on?” She rapidly spoke out in questioning of her husband's well being.
“I..just..had too many..shots last night.”His voice now began to stabilize, as his fear withered away, in the company of his wife.
“You don’t ever drink often enough to shout things while wasted this early in the morning.”
“It was one night, I wanted to celebrate.”
“Celebrate while making yourself nearly...mentally incapable...that isn’t you in the slightest bit Grayson.”
“I needed to cool down, when is that ever a wrong?”
“It’s a wrong when you don’t tell me what’s truly happening.”
“How the hell would you know that something is wrong with me. I’ve spoken enough about it, I wanted to get away for a night, and these are the clear repercussions of it.”
“Then...why is..” Keira interrupts herself, as she begins to wipe the dusty yellowish discharge away from the tips of her diamond like eyes. She steadily lifts her arm up, still slightly entranced by the allure of sleep, the joints of her fingers wagging back and forth as she points towards a bottle of scotch. Inside the transparent glass, is the savory caramel colored beverage, filled to its completion; topped with the plastic tape like substance alongside the cork still unopened. Grayson quickly looked, and to his dismay; he had been caught in another lie.
“You don’t have to lie to me.” She continued, as it was clear, she held Grayson within her grasp for interrogation.
“Who said I was lying? What does one bottle have to do with another?”
“If you weren’t lying, would you really try to verbally battle me at two in the morning?”
“If I was lying would I really try to go at such lengths to protect a lie; I wouldn’t, you know that. I had a bottle with some friends at the bar.”
“And when do you over go out and drink?”
“How many times do I have to tell you that I wanted an escape! Just for one night!”
“You worry me, too much, Gray. I’m fine with you drinking, and having fun, i’m not fine with you making it so our trust is nothing but something you say to caress me at night.”
“I care for you more than you could ever realize, Keira.”
“Then why do you continue to butter me up with these stupid stories, to try to explain a fairly obvious situation! I’m not a child Grayson...I’m not someone you can just so easily command!”
A moment of silence arises. Only to be broken by Keira once more.
“If this is about the WFWF..I know that you’re anxious, but to see you in this state...” She continued, only to be suddenly interrupted by her husband once more.
“It isn’t.”Grayson replied with a booming demanding tone within his voice.
“I know it is. I know you have an intense amount of pressure riding on your shoulders, your first ever match in the big leagues; traveling across the globe to Japan, when you’ve never even been a passenger on an airplane! I just can’t accept you mistreating me like this, no wife deserves to be a victim in her husband’s never ending train of thought.” Keira delivers her final pending statement, with the utmost belligerence surrounding her ultimatum. It was quite clear, that the only person who could see beyond the facade of ‘Grayson Cain,’ was his own wife, who is seemingly the only person that he willingly trusts.
Silence arises once more, as the conversation appears to have met its end, with Keira holding the possession of the final word.Though, something as trivial as the placement of statements, completely scorned the mental well being, of a character such as Grayson; to the point where he wouldn’t allow himself to be defeated, even in a battle of mere words.
“Sometimes I feel like you haven’t met the real Grayson Cain.” He spoke out, as his wife shrugged off his ego boosting phrase. And with a final phrase, Grayson Cain’s mind had been deviated away from the WFWF, away from his childhood; and had solely focused on his internal wit, that had allowed him to escape from a constricting conversation.
---
Grayson Cain Episode I
“All my life I feel like I’ve been entrenched into fighting a relentless war; at times I often question whether or not the triumph was worth the means.”Grayson Cain initially spews, as the crispness of his words are accentuated by the chilly coastline breeze. Sitting calmly beside him on the beachside pier, with their hands entwined, is his wife Keira Vonleh. Her hair a magnificent dark brown that sways lightly as the wind passes, her eyes a vibrant green that deters away from the darkness of the night.
“And what conclusion do you always end up with?” She responds, removing her hand from his, now she begins to lean with all of her weight atop his strong, broad shoulders.
“Around the arms of a pretty girl, it’s always obvious. The ends justify the means indefinitely.” Grayson states with the illusion of confidence, his face is quite clearly constrained, his eyes squinting in an irregular V-like position, his lips pegged together, as if tied by thread and needle.
“Grayson. You know that’s the one lingering phrase, I’ve been dying to hear you say. Ever since our marriage two years ago.”
“I know honey. But there just always comes a point in time, where no good can come from bad; where life itself will simply arrive at your doorstep and deliver an impending blow. I can’t help but sense that joining the WFWF will be my final undoing.” The words slowly imp out of Grayson’s mouth with slight reluctance, he is clearly battling within himself, as the grasp of grandeur can be quite clearly seen through the WFWF, but he has come and grown to understand his prior wrongdoings, will inevitably catch up to him.
“Nothing bad will happen. You convinced me of all of this; I was horrified when I first found out what you were doing to earn a paycheck. I used to think of the people, their families; but the one thing that you taught me is that no matter what, the only place left for us to go is up. Now we’re at the foregrounds of up, Gray; if nothing stopped us then, nothing will ever come between us now.” She delivers her speech with the utmost confidence, Grayson now appears slightly vibrant once more, his lips returning to their natural muscular position, the coloring in his skin now less of a greyish pale. It is quite clear that Grayson in this instance, needed the somewhat calming reassurance of another person to justify it all; any person would battle with their morality had they done what he had, but as always, his intent is questionable.
“You’re right. But do you think that the WFWF is really the direction we should be heading in? I’d like to think that I could simply magically prolong my body, to the point where thirty four is no longer that, but I can’t. I want us to start something new something that we’ve always shared mutual interest in, creating a family and settle down for once. With me possibly out on tour for months, even if we had kids, I wouldn’t be the father I’ve always wanted to be.” A moment of calming sincerity is shared between the two lovers.
“Gray. Listen baby; I’m here with you, and I want to see you succeed; more so than giving birth to children. You mean everything to me.” She calmly speaks out, as she is in clear admiration of the modesty spoken by her husband.
“Did I ever tell you; that you’re the ever woman I’ve ever loved?” Grayson methodically speaks out, as his once quite painstakingly serious tone is broken in slight gigglish childlike laughter quickly following his almost abruptly placed statement. His laughter is met in response by Keira, whose cheeks have entirely blossomed into bright red; as she and her husband gaze upon the beautiful site of the crashing, glistening waves.
While their journey has been questionable up to this point, the two lovers now approach their biggest opportunity, yet they are well aware that it will be their grandest challenge; the merciless inner workings of the WFWF; where their former brilliant machinations will stand no chance against the brilliant competitors that all intend to solidify their standings as champions.
---
A well intentioned untruth?
Grayson Cain’s Home in Hatteras, North Carolina
It had been a few nights since Grayson had signed his initial contract to the WFWF; it had seemed as if Grayson had no longer any obstacle left to face, though it was quick clear, that the only thing capable of deteriorating away at his own personal image, was himself.
Grayson had been calmly laying in the sweet supreme comfort of his own bed, his legs entirely covered by soft indigo fabric, as his wife, Keira, had been entrenched in a deep sleep. Grayson hadn’t slept properly in what had felt like forever as dark circles had begun to establish their prominent presence below his once glistening eyes, though, his insomniac behavior had solely arisen recently, following his agreement with the WFWF. Grayson’s lack of sleep certainly wasn’t attributed to his lack of alcohol consumption, it was of what he had once forgotten.
Grayson had begun to slowly shut his eyes; and in the short instance of time that they had been closed, he had felt as if he was nine years old again.
In his own eyes he had seen himself again, returned with the youth that he had lost. His appearance had been vastly different; removing his extravagant smile as well as his charming allure, removing the facial hair that had hid the constraints of his muscles along his cheeks as he bit down in pain. Though the one thing that had been constant had been his eyes. His eyes had always appeared as if he was in a dazed confusion; his eyes slightly tilted to the left, his pupils smaller than usual, as if constrained. The same eyes had seen the same things.
It was little Grayson Cain, the tips of his toes eloquently maintaining his balance along the old and worn out rail-way that had encircled his barren childhood home in Dare County, North Carolina. He had been traveling along the rail-way for hours; back and forth he would traverse in hopes of encountering a friend that had just recently passed. He was in clear denial, once more awaiting his ‘father’s’ calming embrace. His face indicated this very though, as the deep dark blue bags beneath his eyes only continued to grow worse, as his cheeks had been continuously stained by the stream of his own tears. He would whistle a harmonic tune that his ‘father’ had once previously taught him; though as he approached its highest pitch, his voice would crackle into an array of tears, causing him to restart his despondent song once more.
He had looked back at his formerly clenched palms to observe the white gold chain that had been previously hung around his neck; it was another gift that had been given to him by his father; or rather the man that he had deemed worthy of the title before his sudden passing.
The chain entwined with smaller links, all creating a unifying bond. It was the only segment of stability, that he had left in his life. Grayson was once more alone, awaiting the next venture in his life with questioning despair; simply counting the days until his new environment would knock once more at his door, to find a lone child with no where to go. He was afraid.
Grayson’s eyes were once more lit ablaze, as he awoke in a mad fury, his pupils dilated; his breathing had accelerated from its usual prolonged state, his fear accompanied by a riveting shout delivered at the top of his lungs.
“No!” Grayson let out a bloodcurdling plea, as his clear desperation began to rivet along the walls. His wife, still entranced in sleep, is on the verge of awakening, as seen by her constant squirming along the bedside.
“I can’t….I can’t ever let that happen again……” He slowly mutters, while attempting to exhale and slow his ever quickening heart. The consistent booms of his heart-beat still continue, as his bare chest continues its irregular, quite disfigured pattern of, upwards, and downwards.
“Wilson….” Grayson continued in his muttered, nearly deranged tone; as his wife finally awoke to her nearly distraught husband.
“Grayson, what..what’s going on?” She rapidly spoke out in questioning of her husband's well being.
“I..just..had too many..shots last night.”His voice now began to stabilize, as his fear withered away, in the company of his wife.
“You don’t ever drink often enough to shout things while wasted this early in the morning.”
“It was one night, I wanted to celebrate.”
“Celebrate while making yourself nearly...mentally incapable...that isn’t you in the slightest bit Grayson.”
“I needed to cool down, when is that ever a wrong?”
“It’s a wrong when you don’t tell me what’s truly happening.”
“How the hell would you know that something is wrong with me. I’ve spoken enough about it, I wanted to get away for a night, and these are the clear repercussions of it.”
“Then...why is..” Keira interrupts herself, as she begins to wipe the dusty yellowish discharge away from the tips of her diamond like eyes. She steadily lifts her arm up, still slightly entranced by the allure of sleep, the joints of her fingers wagging back and forth as she points towards a bottle of scotch. Inside the transparent glass, is the savory caramel colored beverage, filled to its completion; topped with the plastic tape like substance alongside the cork still unopened. Grayson quickly looked, and to his dismay; he had been caught in another lie.
“You don’t have to lie to me.” She continued, as it was clear, she held Grayson within her grasp for interrogation.
“Who said I was lying? What does one bottle have to do with another?”
“If you weren’t lying, would you really try to verbally battle me at two in the morning?”
“If I was lying would I really try to go at such lengths to protect a lie; I wouldn’t, you know that. I had a bottle with some friends at the bar.”
“And when do you over go out and drink?”
“How many times do I have to tell you that I wanted an escape! Just for one night!”
“You worry me, too much, Gray. I’m fine with you drinking, and having fun, i’m not fine with you making it so our trust is nothing but something you say to caress me at night.”
“I care for you more than you could ever realize, Keira.”
“Then why do you continue to butter me up with these stupid stories, to try to explain a fairly obvious situation! I’m not a child Grayson...I’m not someone you can just so easily command!”
A moment of silence arises. Only to be broken by Keira once more.
“If this is about the WFWF..I know that you’re anxious, but to see you in this state...” She continued, only to be suddenly interrupted by her husband once more.
“It isn’t.”Grayson replied with a booming demanding tone within his voice.
“I know it is. I know you have an intense amount of pressure riding on your shoulders, your first ever match in the big leagues; traveling across the globe to Japan, when you’ve never even been a passenger on an airplane! I just can’t accept you mistreating me like this, no wife deserves to be a victim in her husband’s never ending train of thought.” Keira delivers her final pending statement, with the utmost belligerence surrounding her ultimatum. It was quite clear, that the only person who could see beyond the facade of ‘Grayson Cain,’ was his own wife, who is seemingly the only person that he willingly trusts.
Silence arises once more, as the conversation appears to have met its end, with Keira holding the possession of the final word.Though, something as trivial as the placement of statements, completely scorned the mental well being, of a character such as Grayson; to the point where he wouldn’t allow himself to be defeated, even in a battle of mere words.
“Sometimes I feel like you haven’t met the real Grayson Cain.” He spoke out, as his wife shrugged off his ego boosting phrase. And with a final phrase, Grayson Cain’s mind had been deviated away from the WFWF, away from his childhood; and had solely focused on his internal wit, that had allowed him to escape from a constricting conversation.
---
The Gun
Grayson exposed his deceiving inner tranquility, as his scorched, blistered hands had nearly sizzled at the touch of the wintry chilling solid steel pistol grip. With its slight ridges intersecting between every slight crevice along his weathered fingertips. As he lifted the pistol, the muscles in his arm had stiffened; it was as if the weight of the pistol had been completely disposed, and in return, became an extension of his own arm, and his own will. He then aimed at the target in front, wrapping his index finger around the trigger; he then pulled it, the bullet hitting the target, with remarkable precision. The recoil was more than he had once remembered, as the gun fluidly pushed back, as if it’s weight and presence had been ignored.
“The pure ecstasy of the shot, makes it so you ignore the pure intangibles of it all.” Grayson calmly spoke out, as his arms now returned back to their standard placement, alongside the slight crevices of his hips.This particular shooting range hasn’t been visited by Grayson since he was young, and ripened, at the gazing age of twenty seven. It was exactly how he had remembered it, from the shack like entrance that had been struck with water damage from ravaging hurricanes of years past; from the smell of fish; to the pistol’s tendency to rip the skin along the bottom of his index finger. It had all been exactly how he had recalled, though it was quite clear, that he had forgotten it all.
“I’m thirty four, pushing towards thirty five; but I know that the thrill still awaits. As badly, as I’d like to forget.” Grayson once more continued.
“I know that you’re engaged in a really tough scenario. But most people don’t even get the opportunity to fire the shot.” Gene, the owner of the range replied; his age clearly displayed through porous bags along the once sharp segments of his face, reminiscent of large craters that had been stepped on, and once explored. Their relationship was a bit of a conundrum in its own right; having not seen each other for years, they still retold stories and experiences that the other had missed in their time away from one another. Gene was entirely aware of Grayson’s issue with the WFWF, but beyond their occupational matters; the two were nearly strangers with one another, just as Grayson would have liked to keep it.
“I don’t think it’s about the shot, it seems to me that it’s always the recoil; it’s always the lost skin that blisters, and lives on as a painstaking reminder to never be forgotten.”
“You’re right about that Grayson. The pain will always live on, but so will the pure adrenaline of it all. I’m saying that you need to grab this opportunity by the horns and run with it as long as your legs allow you to. You’ve worked too hard to get to the point in your life where you can take initiative, where you can be remembered; just as you always said.”
“The contract is set in stone with my signature already inked on it.” Grayson states, as he rests the weighted pistol alongside a near by chestnut wooden coffee table.
“That’s pretty damn great, you’ll be set for life with all of the money you’ll be reeling in.”
“I always tell myself that I do all of this for more than just money….But I’ll be honest, the reason I signed was for that reason alone. I know my body can’t keep up with guys who are young enough to be my legitimate children.”
“So the thrill is gone.”
“To me, the thrill has been gone since the first time I awoke to find a bullet in my right shoulder.”
“Fifteen years then.”
“It’s felt much shorter than that.” Grayson spoke, as he gripped his right shoulder with his left hand, reminiscing of the pain that he once felt on that fateful day.
“Many people would die for the chance you’ve got right now. Guys who are sincerely passionate for wrestling, guys who’re damn near starving daily.”
“I know that Gene, I can’t tell you how many times I’ve awaken, imagining that I had something more than a name, a girl, and money.”
“Do you, Gray, I know that wrestling is something you like to do, whether you really admit it or not. It’s that within you, that only wants to fire.”
“I wish I could honestly tell you that this is what I love to do. But it isn’t. I’ve done it all, I’ve wrestled only for my family; and because of that my hands are stained because of everything I’ve done for the betterment of them and our future. And, Gene, there’s this part of me that just wants to escape; that wants to forget all about this and start anew, but I’ve begun to realize in this past week, that no such escape exists for a man like me.”
“Well, I’ve never looked down on you Grayson, not then, and not now. You’ve fought because you had to from the start; but I, as a long time friend, have only one bit of advice for you, go out, and give them hell. Are you ready to just continue on, and fight that one last fight?”
“I wish I didn’t have to fight that final battle. But it’s always been too late to ever look back, and regret the things I did wrong. Had I done those things ‘right, who knows where I would be now. I’m going to Osaka, Japan for my first match; and I promise you one thing Gene. Grayson Cain won’t just be a name you remember from your shop on Gordon Road. He’ll be the guy who dares to stare in the face of death. You’ll find him locked into a staring contest with the opposing barrel directly placed on his forehead and saying, ‘shoot.’”
“You haven’t lost it, despite what a number next your name tells you. You’ve always been more than that Grayson.”
---
The coup d’etat
More than anything, I’d say that I’ve built myself up from nothing. People ignore that sentiment of course; as if the American dream is nothing more than an aphorism that has no weight beyond pure lies, and illegitimate ego boosting. But I assure you, Grayson Cain in his entirety, is best explained as the epitome of a self built man. From dusk to dawn, I’ve done things that most people would shy away of, but I differ from them, I take pride in what I’ve done; despite what I say to protect the family and relationships that I’ve built up for myself. I’ve hurt many people, I’ve done many wrongdoings; but I’ve always done them with a willful smile, knowing that something grander awaits in the balance. Yet as long as I continue to fight, people still don’t quite understand the mental machinations that exist in order to create something as well thought out as I have; and that’s where people are often proven wrong against me. It has never been my athletic prowess that has separated me from anyone, nor has it ever been anything I could physically do; it has always been a mental battle. In common themes and literary motifs you may have read; the conflict is always witt pitted up against warrior; where witt always suffices against the largest of foes. I’d say if I was anything I’d describe myself as witt and warrior, where most people typically believe the two are mutually exclusive. What I’ve always said, has always had a consistent simple premise of, I’m better than you; and at times I find it hard to believe that people cannot simply come to terms with facts.
And so I find myself awaiting my first opponent, or rather three; but what people underestimate, is just how simplistic in mindset three brawny beings can be. While Darwin proclaims that evolution is for the betterment of the species in order to survive, your typical brawns are the exception to his theory, and thus, somehow devolve as capable beings. Joe Magnet is the first brawn, to be forgotten, or rather not, I’ll explain that later. Joe Magnet has had everything handed to him from his conception, from toys, to games, and to eventually buying his placement as a WFWF wrestler, because to me, it is clear as day that no simple brawn like him could even be conceptualised in the same presence as me. What differentiates him from the others, is his sporadic appearance on the videotron at ‘Choke Hold,’ in which he speaks to his mother. Is that really a wrestler worth signing; if you can even call what he is, a ‘wrestler.’
Next in the chain of brawns is ‘Doctor Manson,’ an obese, drunken man who bears the confederate flag. By being himself, it is almost as if he has completely deterred himself from even considered a formidable threat against any living being. At forty six, due to his level of alcohol, drug, and illiterate conscious; it is quite clear that either his liver will give out mid-way through the match, or he’ll willingly forfeit, scavenging the cocaine he intended to hide beneath the near endless flaps of skin beneath his left nipple. Doctor Manson’s appearance is quite clearly depicted in a Disney animated classic film, and no it is not in the charming Snow White, nor is it in a film such as The Little Mermaid; Doctor Manson, is a Victor Hugo creation, the hunchback himself, Quasimodo; though of course, removing his strength, and heroic qualities. Though they do share many similarities in many different regards, both are castaways and misfits in society, and both share the near eye bleaching appearance.
The final brawn is none other than Joey Raid, a man who, unlike the rest of us, has experienced the challenge that lies within the WFWF ring. He is a predominantly high-flying, athletic wrestler, who utilises painstakingly stupid monikers, such as ‘Game Over,’ to be remembered. I can’t quite recall how many Joey Raids I’ve encountered throughout my career, and I mean that as a detriment to his individuality. He is clear cut, and as simplistic a wrestler can be. If anything, because of his experience in the professional ring, people seem to believe that he’s the favorite heading into our match in Osaka. What people forget, are the intangibles of it all; considering the two matches that Joey has experienced in his professional career, have been clear slaughters in which one man had the clear advantage in both instances. Joey Raid, is simply not talented enough, while his professional career is something to be marveled at by the other brawns; it is not by me, who is the clear serious veteran, even having never stepped in the WFWF ring.
And so here I conclude with my resting thoughts, on my upcoming debut in Osaka, Japan. For these three men I wish them luck in their future ventures, because I can happily assure you, that there is absolutely zero chance that I lose in my debut. I’ve worked far too hard, I’ve done too many things to have even consider regretting at this stage in my life. Any man who confronts me is solely another tally on a list of ever expanding many, and I will not stop my reign until the name Grayson Cain, is erased from its skepticism, erased from its endangered roots; it is a name to be remembered, and the only way to achieve that is through victory. Grayson Cain will remain in the same great vain as many righteous men who have come before him. The WFWF has never been introduced to a man like me, as you are all witnessing the birth of a new era, the birth of a man who has been finally given the opportunity to do the things that he’s wished he could do for nearly all of his life. Restore his name, and continue to get paid.
Grayson exposed his deceiving inner tranquility, as his scorched, blistered hands had nearly sizzled at the touch of the wintry chilling solid steel pistol grip. With its slight ridges intersecting between every slight crevice along his weathered fingertips. As he lifted the pistol, the muscles in his arm had stiffened; it was as if the weight of the pistol had been completely disposed, and in return, became an extension of his own arm, and his own will. He then aimed at the target in front, wrapping his index finger around the trigger; he then pulled it, the bullet hitting the target, with remarkable precision. The recoil was more than he had once remembered, as the gun fluidly pushed back, as if it’s weight and presence had been ignored.
“The pure ecstasy of the shot, makes it so you ignore the pure intangibles of it all.” Grayson calmly spoke out, as his arms now returned back to their standard placement, alongside the slight crevices of his hips.This particular shooting range hasn’t been visited by Grayson since he was young, and ripened, at the gazing age of twenty seven. It was exactly how he had remembered it, from the shack like entrance that had been struck with water damage from ravaging hurricanes of years past; from the smell of fish; to the pistol’s tendency to rip the skin along the bottom of his index finger. It had all been exactly how he had recalled, though it was quite clear, that he had forgotten it all.
“I’m thirty four, pushing towards thirty five; but I know that the thrill still awaits. As badly, as I’d like to forget.” Grayson once more continued.
“I know that you’re engaged in a really tough scenario. But most people don’t even get the opportunity to fire the shot.” Gene, the owner of the range replied; his age clearly displayed through porous bags along the once sharp segments of his face, reminiscent of large craters that had been stepped on, and once explored. Their relationship was a bit of a conundrum in its own right; having not seen each other for years, they still retold stories and experiences that the other had missed in their time away from one another. Gene was entirely aware of Grayson’s issue with the WFWF, but beyond their occupational matters; the two were nearly strangers with one another, just as Grayson would have liked to keep it.
“I don’t think it’s about the shot, it seems to me that it’s always the recoil; it’s always the lost skin that blisters, and lives on as a painstaking reminder to never be forgotten.”
“You’re right about that Grayson. The pain will always live on, but so will the pure adrenaline of it all. I’m saying that you need to grab this opportunity by the horns and run with it as long as your legs allow you to. You’ve worked too hard to get to the point in your life where you can take initiative, where you can be remembered; just as you always said.”
“The contract is set in stone with my signature already inked on it.” Grayson states, as he rests the weighted pistol alongside a near by chestnut wooden coffee table.
“That’s pretty damn great, you’ll be set for life with all of the money you’ll be reeling in.”
“I always tell myself that I do all of this for more than just money….But I’ll be honest, the reason I signed was for that reason alone. I know my body can’t keep up with guys who are young enough to be my legitimate children.”
“So the thrill is gone.”
“To me, the thrill has been gone since the first time I awoke to find a bullet in my right shoulder.”
“Fifteen years then.”
“It’s felt much shorter than that.” Grayson spoke, as he gripped his right shoulder with his left hand, reminiscing of the pain that he once felt on that fateful day.
“Many people would die for the chance you’ve got right now. Guys who are sincerely passionate for wrestling, guys who’re damn near starving daily.”
“I know that Gene, I can’t tell you how many times I’ve awaken, imagining that I had something more than a name, a girl, and money.”
“Do you, Gray, I know that wrestling is something you like to do, whether you really admit it or not. It’s that within you, that only wants to fire.”
“I wish I could honestly tell you that this is what I love to do. But it isn’t. I’ve done it all, I’ve wrestled only for my family; and because of that my hands are stained because of everything I’ve done for the betterment of them and our future. And, Gene, there’s this part of me that just wants to escape; that wants to forget all about this and start anew, but I’ve begun to realize in this past week, that no such escape exists for a man like me.”
“Well, I’ve never looked down on you Grayson, not then, and not now. You’ve fought because you had to from the start; but I, as a long time friend, have only one bit of advice for you, go out, and give them hell. Are you ready to just continue on, and fight that one last fight?”
“I wish I didn’t have to fight that final battle. But it’s always been too late to ever look back, and regret the things I did wrong. Had I done those things ‘right, who knows where I would be now. I’m going to Osaka, Japan for my first match; and I promise you one thing Gene. Grayson Cain won’t just be a name you remember from your shop on Gordon Road. He’ll be the guy who dares to stare in the face of death. You’ll find him locked into a staring contest with the opposing barrel directly placed on his forehead and saying, ‘shoot.’”
“You haven’t lost it, despite what a number next your name tells you. You’ve always been more than that Grayson.”
---
The coup d’etat
More than anything, I’d say that I’ve built myself up from nothing. People ignore that sentiment of course; as if the American dream is nothing more than an aphorism that has no weight beyond pure lies, and illegitimate ego boosting. But I assure you, Grayson Cain in his entirety, is best explained as the epitome of a self built man. From dusk to dawn, I’ve done things that most people would shy away of, but I differ from them, I take pride in what I’ve done; despite what I say to protect the family and relationships that I’ve built up for myself. I’ve hurt many people, I’ve done many wrongdoings; but I’ve always done them with a willful smile, knowing that something grander awaits in the balance. Yet as long as I continue to fight, people still don’t quite understand the mental machinations that exist in order to create something as well thought out as I have; and that’s where people are often proven wrong against me. It has never been my athletic prowess that has separated me from anyone, nor has it ever been anything I could physically do; it has always been a mental battle. In common themes and literary motifs you may have read; the conflict is always witt pitted up against warrior; where witt always suffices against the largest of foes. I’d say if I was anything I’d describe myself as witt and warrior, where most people typically believe the two are mutually exclusive. What I’ve always said, has always had a consistent simple premise of, I’m better than you; and at times I find it hard to believe that people cannot simply come to terms with facts.
And so I find myself awaiting my first opponent, or rather three; but what people underestimate, is just how simplistic in mindset three brawny beings can be. While Darwin proclaims that evolution is for the betterment of the species in order to survive, your typical brawns are the exception to his theory, and thus, somehow devolve as capable beings. Joe Magnet is the first brawn, to be forgotten, or rather not, I’ll explain that later. Joe Magnet has had everything handed to him from his conception, from toys, to games, and to eventually buying his placement as a WFWF wrestler, because to me, it is clear as day that no simple brawn like him could even be conceptualised in the same presence as me. What differentiates him from the others, is his sporadic appearance on the videotron at ‘Choke Hold,’ in which he speaks to his mother. Is that really a wrestler worth signing; if you can even call what he is, a ‘wrestler.’
Next in the chain of brawns is ‘Doctor Manson,’ an obese, drunken man who bears the confederate flag. By being himself, it is almost as if he has completely deterred himself from even considered a formidable threat against any living being. At forty six, due to his level of alcohol, drug, and illiterate conscious; it is quite clear that either his liver will give out mid-way through the match, or he’ll willingly forfeit, scavenging the cocaine he intended to hide beneath the near endless flaps of skin beneath his left nipple. Doctor Manson’s appearance is quite clearly depicted in a Disney animated classic film, and no it is not in the charming Snow White, nor is it in a film such as The Little Mermaid; Doctor Manson, is a Victor Hugo creation, the hunchback himself, Quasimodo; though of course, removing his strength, and heroic qualities. Though they do share many similarities in many different regards, both are castaways and misfits in society, and both share the near eye bleaching appearance.
The final brawn is none other than Joey Raid, a man who, unlike the rest of us, has experienced the challenge that lies within the WFWF ring. He is a predominantly high-flying, athletic wrestler, who utilises painstakingly stupid monikers, such as ‘Game Over,’ to be remembered. I can’t quite recall how many Joey Raids I’ve encountered throughout my career, and I mean that as a detriment to his individuality. He is clear cut, and as simplistic a wrestler can be. If anything, because of his experience in the professional ring, people seem to believe that he’s the favorite heading into our match in Osaka. What people forget, are the intangibles of it all; considering the two matches that Joey has experienced in his professional career, have been clear slaughters in which one man had the clear advantage in both instances. Joey Raid, is simply not talented enough, while his professional career is something to be marveled at by the other brawns; it is not by me, who is the clear serious veteran, even having never stepped in the WFWF ring.
And so here I conclude with my resting thoughts, on my upcoming debut in Osaka, Japan. For these three men I wish them luck in their future ventures, because I can happily assure you, that there is absolutely zero chance that I lose in my debut. I’ve worked far too hard, I’ve done too many things to have even consider regretting at this stage in my life. Any man who confronts me is solely another tally on a list of ever expanding many, and I will not stop my reign until the name Grayson Cain, is erased from its skepticism, erased from its endangered roots; it is a name to be remembered, and the only way to achieve that is through victory. Grayson Cain will remain in the same great vain as many righteous men who have come before him. The WFWF has never been introduced to a man like me, as you are all witnessing the birth of a new era, the birth of a man who has been finally given the opportunity to do the things that he’s wished he could do for nearly all of his life. Restore his name, and continue to get paid.
I dont know good luck 
