Post by King Richius on Mar 23, 2018 14:17:15 GMT -5
Prologue: The Condemned
New Orleans, LA : March 10, 2018 : Back to Basics
Back to Basics could be going better but it’s not too late to recover. The revolution can still make it’s point. All Joe has to do is beat Brennan clean like I just did to Kyzer and he will tip the scales in our favor. Respect, honor, and sportsmanship can win out over violence and anarchy.
It didn’t start out so well. I let Ante get under my skin and lost my cool during the opening when Ante attacked me. That damn Lynn temper got the better of me. I abused my role as GM to ?win?… ?take?… ?steal?… the Golden Opportunity from him. I’m not proud of myself but I am a champion now. Finally. If anyone wants to say I didn’t earn it I will point out that I beat Whitner twice before and should have been the Golden Opportunity champion months ago. I simply took possession of what was already mine.
I don’t even want to think about Trevor Wolf. Sucks that I was changing into my wrestling gear in the locker room when the stupid idiot lost his mind. By the time I knew something was going down, it was already over. I can’t do anything about it now but one day I’ll make the damn fool wish he had stayed dead.
I think I got the support of the fans back with my performance against Kyzer. It wasn’t easy but I beat him clean, 1-2-3 in the middle of the ring. Message sent: Frank Lynn can beat anyone while playing by the rules. I don’t need shortcuts.
It was extremely satisfying hearing the entire arena chant “This is wrestling!” as I left the ring. They get it.
Now for the most tense part of the show.
Trace Demon.
He worries me. The man creates chaos where ever he goes and right now he is in the ring talking up a storm. He could destroy everything the revolution is working for.
I’m on pins and needles listening to his every word, cursing the fact that he outsmarted Lila yet again and is getting a title shot that he hasn’t earned. Spitting in the face of the revolution and spoiling the revolution’s big night. How many times do I have to beat him to put him in his place?
Then IT happens.
The big IT I was afraid of.
The big IT that ruined the revolution’s night.
The big IT that changed everything.
Lila Sleater showed her true colors. She orchestrated a very public hit on Trace Demon. The kid, Tyler Draven, carried IT out in the middle of the ring. I fight the urge to puke all over the gorilla position as I watch each swing of the barbwire bat and hear the sickeningly wet thwacking sounds as the bat crashes into Trace’s cranium once… twice… three times.
Trace Demon may be the biggest pile of sh*t in the WFWF but even he doesn’t deserve this. Christ, look at him. It’s going to take more than all the king’s horses and all the king’s men to put him back together again. It’s gonna’ take a damn miracle.
I yell for the paramedics to get to the ring, as unnecessary as it is since they took off after the first blow to Trace’s head. I watch in silence along with everybody else, finding myself saying a quiet prayer for Trace Demon. The irony isn’t lost on me.
Moments later, the kid walks past the gorilla position, trying to look remorseful even as he drags the bloody bat behind him. Not buying it kid. You’re a marked man.
I oughta’ take that bat and shove it right up your ass, you sick son of a b*tch.
Tyler walks on, doing his best to ignore me. Smart move. I swear if he so much as glanced in my direction I would carry out my threat.
Lila follows behind the kid, also trying to look remorseful but I’m not buying it from her any more than I was from the kid.
My vision goes red with rage. I jump the table, grab her by the shoulders and slam her into the wall. The rest of the staff back away. You don’t poke an angry bear and you don’t tug on Superman’s cape. Right now I’m an angry Kryptonian grizzly bear with a big red cape. It’s in every one’s best interest to stay out of my way. Lila and I are about to have a serious f*cking chat.
Congratulations, you insane f*cking b*tch! You did what Schneider, Demon, and Kyzer couldn’t do. YOU KILLED THE REVOLUTION!
She stares into my eyes defiantly but remains silent.
This was the revolution’s night. This was MY NIGHT! You just took a giant sh*t on it in front of the whole world! Trace Demon was a cancer but you… you… You are a f*cking plague!
Again, she responds with cold hard silence. She tries to push away from me but I slam her into the wall again. I feel no guilt. The b*tch deserves far worse.
Don’t you understand? Joe and I are trying to make this place better. You’re making it worse! YOU RUINED MY SHOW!
She speaks, slow and low so that only I can hear.
It’s not your show Frank. It never was. Learn from what you just witnessed. Don’t push me, ‘specially tonight. I’m not in the mood.
Frankly, I don’t give a damn. You make me sick.
Be very careful. You’re Cinderella and the clock strikes midnight soon.
You don’t scare me. Now get the f*ck out of my sight. You can leave with what little dignity you have left or I can get security to escort your sorry ass out of the building. Doesn’t matter to me. You are leaving NOW!
She stares at me icily as I slowly remove my hands from her shoulders and let her step away from the wall. She makes a haughty “harumph” sound and walks away, her head still held high as if she is f*cking proud of what she did.
F*ck you b*tch. I thought this place could be saved. I thought the foundation was sound enough that we could fix it with a tweak here and there. You showed me I was wrong. The foundation is cracked beyond repair. The WFWF cannot be fixed. It must be demolished so something new can rise like a phoenix from the ashes.
WFWF New Day Rising RP
When a Good Man Goes to War
featuring Frank Lynn
”Madness, as you know, is like gravity. All it takes is a little push.” - The Joker
Framingham, MA : March 17, 2018
Party like it’s 1999!
The weather gods were nice, allowing the party I planned for Frank to go off without a hitch. Considering how many of his friends I invited, it would be a good bit more crowded if we were confined to the house. Even the barn would be hard pressed to hold the more than four dozen people who showed up.
Our guests are spread out all over. Some in the house watching All or Nothing and Back to Basics highlights. Others milling about on the deck and the yard eating, drinking, and socializing. And of course there are a few workaholic wrestlers in the barn putting Frank’s wrestling ring and other equipment to good use. Doctor Claw is even joining in the festivities, doing his part to entertain a few toddlers that parents unable to get baby sitters brought to the party… or maybe they wanted to give Frank and I a taste of what is coming our way in a few months. Every so often there is a loud cheer from the barn as I assume someone just pulled off an impressive move.
I see Frank drifting towards the barn again. He keeps trying to join the wrestling diehards and I keep intercepting him. Today is a day for him to forget about the WFWF, Legacy, and wrestling in general. I want him to stop and smell the roses. He is the new International Champion. No matter how questionable he thinks his tactics were or what they will cost him, he is a champion!
Seriously Frank, your soul is not on the line every single time you step into the ring. You won’t spend an eternity burning in hell because just this once, you thought of yourself first. Stop with the guilt trips, the rationalizations, and the sleepless nights. Lighten up. Enjoy the moment.
I grab a cold beer from the cooler and waddle towards Frank even as he continues his migration towards the barn. It’s the slowest foot race in history as he is trying not to look like he wants to go into the barn while I’m starting to put on baby weight. Judging from the size of my stomach, the kid is gonna’ be a big ‘un.
Abraham sees me waddling across the yard and comes over, offering an arm to help me. You old softy.
Hi Sarah. Shall we go save Frank from himself?
You read my mind.
I look at Frank and see all the things I love about him. Intelligent. Handsome. Funny - when he wants to be which isn’t nearly as often as I’d like. Passionate. So damn passionate. He has a fire burning inside him and it drives him to be the best at everything he tries.
I know that his passion is going to make him a great husband and father. I worry that his passion is going to be his downfall as a wrestler. The way he threw himself into the revolution was inspiring… and scary. He was so damn obsessive about his precious revolution.
And now he is just as passionate about his new philosophy - his attempt to come to grips with the failure of the revolution at Back to Basics and his own perceived fall from grace. I’m getting scared again. His emotional pendulum swings so wide and so fast. It’s practically manic behavior. It can’t be good for him.
Has he been skipping his therapy sessions?
As Abe and I get closer, I can hear Frank talking… no, actually he’s on his soapbox sermonizing to his disciples, a half dozen or so Legacy wrestlers. I slow down, giving Abraham a gentle tug so that he knows I want to stand back, watch, and listen.
I’m telling you, the revolution was a good idea but it was ahead of its time. The WFWF isn’t ready for reform. I mean… the WFWF is… well… it’s like that outhouse over there.
This should be good. How is Frank going to tie an outhouse to the current state of affairs in the WFWF? I smile at Abe and he smiles back, adding a wink.
See, when the agent first showed me this place, she went on and on about the outhouse. How it was a historical landmark as the last remaining original structure on the property. A one hundred year old bathroom.
Now what I’m telling you is that the only thing original about that damn outhouse is the hole in the ground it sits over… a hole full of dried up sh*t! Everything else has been replaced numerous times over the years.
You can replace all the boards you want, slap as many new coats of paint on it as you want, it doesn’t change the facts. It is and always will be a sh*thouse.
How many drinks has Frank had? I wish I could have a few. Then some of his ramblings might make sense to me.
Are you following me here? The WFWF is a f*cking sh*thouse. I could spend the rest of my life trying to replace the boards and paint ‘em up to look nice. I wouldn’t change a thing. It is and always will be a sh*thouse.
The revolution was doomed to fail. You can’t fix the unfixable. Look what it cost Josh and Joe. They tried and not only did they fail, they’re on the shelf indefinitely. What good have they really done? I’ll tell you. None! They didn’t make a single shred of a difference and now they’re home nursing broken bodies to match their broken dreams.
The small crowd gathered around Frank grows in size as he continues to preach, mostly young wrestlers just getting started in Legacy who look up at him with respect and a touch of awe. They’re dreamers and Frank represents the dream come true… a WFWF champion. Frank could say anything and they would believe him.
Did you see what happened to Anna Ahriman and Trace Demon? Even a stinkin’ bastard like Trace didn’t deserve a barbwire baseball bat to the head!
That’s when the freakin’ light bulb switched on and I knew what I had to do. The foundation of the WFWF is damaged beyond repair. It’s the hole full of sh*t under the outhouse. Lila is the biggest dried up turd in the hole.
You can dress it up as fancy as you like but a sh*thouse is still a sh*thouse. It cannot be changed. I must tear it down and build something new.
Frank makes an overly dramatic sweeping motion with his arm causing several of his disciples to duck for cover and points at the “historic” outhouse.
I should take an axe to that outhouse right now and clear room for something nice, maybe a gazebo and a swing so Sarah and I can sit there in the evening and watch our kid swing away in front of the setting sun.
Damn Frank, you say you aren’t a poet but I disagree. That was sweet.
Don’t you all get it? I should take an axe to the entire WFWF and tear it down around Lila’s ears. That’s why I took the International title from Brennan. It’s irrelevant how I got the belt. It’s mine now and that’s all that matters! Step one in my demolition of the WFWF.
There is so much more to do but I will get it done. I will tear it all down and leave Lila Sleater standing in a pile of rubble with no choice. Rebuild the WFWF as something better.
I’m not giving up on the revolution. I’m deferring it. To save the WFWF I must destroy it first! Forget being a soldier in a revolution. I am the destroyer!
Okay Frank, you’re losing it now trying way too hard to convince yourself. Your passion has swung the pendulum too far. Why can’t you be happy with a championship and your good health? Why do you need a cause to fight for, whether it’s a revolution for change or a campaign of destruction?
I think now would be a good time to give Frank that beer.
I nod in agreement with Abe. Frank vented and it is time to bring him down, like nursing someone through a bad acid trip. Abe helps me to get through the small almost rabid crowd surrounding Frank before they can go into the barn and beat the hell out of each other in the name of good sportsmanship or honorable combat or whatever idealistic bullsh*t floats their boat.
I wrap my arms around Frank, kiss him on the cheek, and hand him the cold beer. My presence immediately calms him down. I not so gently redirect him back to the deck, suggesting we go for a quick dip in the hot tub to further distract him. Hell, I’d get naked and give him a lap dance right here in front of everybody if that is what it would take to get him off his soapbox.
He is so passionate. Too passionate for his own good, at least when it comes to the WFWF.
I don’t know how but I’m going to make Frank see it my way. He should channel his passion into his own career and to hell with everybody else. They don’t care about him so why should he care about them.
There are no children in the WFWF who need their hands held when they cross the street. Only adults fully aware that they work in a dog eat dog business. Not a single one of them had a gun pointed at their head and was told they had to wrestle in the WFWF. They all volunteered. Let them pay whatever price the WFWF demands of them.
I just want you to be safe and successful. The best way to do that is make sure you are focused on YOUR career.
Framingham, MA : March 19, 2018
Why Frank, Why?
The smoke has cleared, the dust settled, and one thing is crystal clear:
The revolution is dead!
I know because I hammered the final nail in the coffin myself when I took my shot at Brennan’s already shattered face with the knee heard round the world to become the new International Champion.
It would be easy to imagine Trace Demon reveling in my failure with a hearty I told you so!, except that he is currently impersonating a cabbage patch kid in the hospital, his brains more scrambled than the eggs I had for breakfast today.
It would be easy to imagine David Brennan reveling in my failure with a hearty I told you so!, except he is currently licking his wounds trying to remember where he put the International Championship belt, his face more scrambled than the eggs I had for breakfast today.
It would be easy to imagine Lila Sleater reveling in my failure with a hearty I told you so!, except that she is currently searching for the remnants of her dignity, her morals more scrambled than the eggs I had for breakfast today.
There’s nobody left to call me out.
Except for me.
I know my actions at Back to Basics bring into question every single word I’ve said the past year, every single action I’ve taken in the name of the revolution. I have been raked over the hottest of coals by every Tom, Dick, and Jane on the internet and social media who claims to have any knowledge of the wrestling business. The dirt sheets are calling me a Judas, the traitor who turned his back on the revolution the first chance he got to steal a title… actually two titles in one night.
F*ck each and every one of you.
Tell me, and be honest, what were you talking about around the water cooler the day after Back to Basics?
Was it Billy Broom’s first win? Was it my clean win over Kyzer? Was it the influx of new and promising talent?
Or was it the heinous actions of the scum of the roster? Were you talking about Wolf’s cowardly attack on Anna Ahriman? Tyler Draven pulling a Negan on Trace Demon under the very specific orders of Lila Sleater? Michael Kyzer turning the main event into a criminal assault that left David Brennan and Joe Bishop battered, bloodied, and broken?
Let he who is without sin cast the first stone.
Oh look, no stones heading in my direction.
The revolution failed because at its core the goal was to take what already existed and fix it. The catastrophe that was Back to Basics showed me the WFWF is rotten to the core. There is no fixing the WFWF.
Once I realized that, I knew I had to change my focus. There is hope for a better WFWF but it’s going to take drastic action. I have to destroy everything the WFWF stands for, tear down the entire structure so we can rebuild it in a new image.
That’s why I used the last minutes of my time as GM to change the rules. I made the Golden Opportunity something that could be cashed in any time, any place. Then I cashed it in on a debilitated David Brennan and took the International Championship. That was the first strike of the wrecking ball, a warning shot across the bow of the ship sending my new message to the WFWF - you’re f*cked.
You can question my methods but you can’t question the results. I wanted someone to take a bite out of the DB f’n WF. Ante wouldn’t step up. Joe couldn’t step up. So I took it upon myself to do the deed, as dirty as it was.
Can you hear me now, David Brennan? It’s not the way I would prefer to win the International Championship but you said it yourself before the International Championship Open Invitational Gauntlet. The only way anybody was going to take the title from you would be if they were willing and able to kill you. You singled out Trace Demon as the only man on the roster who could get the job done.
Surprise mother f*cker!
The Lethal Weapon got the job done!
I steamrolled through the gauntlet and you got lucky when Schneider interfered. I didn’t lose to you. I never even got to face you.
I beat the man you said was your greatest threat. Twice. Let Lila and Tyler take all the credit but anybody with two functioning brain cells knows it was me who broke Trace Demon.
I beat the man who is your current #1 contender to the World Heavyweight Championship. Michael Kyzer will still get his shot but everybody knows who is the real #1 contender.
I saw very clearly that Lila was never going to give me what I earned so I took it for myself. I beat you the only way available to me and took one of your precious titles!
I showed you that I am the one with the killer instinct you should fear, not Trace Demon or Michael Kyzer. Trace isn’t going to be bothering anyone for a long time and Kyzer… well, I showed that he isn’t a threat without a pipe or an army of demented Karate Kid rejects to do his dirty work.
I am the real threat, Davey boy. I played the game better than anybody else and I am the International Champion! I am the future and the future is now!
You want the International Championship back? I’m not hard to find. Come get me. Just look for the only other WFWF wrestler with a shiny gold belt around his waist.
You don’t scare me.
You aren’t even the real enemy. You’re collateral damage.
The real enemy is Lila Sleater, the rot at the core of the apple. Her future, the one I will be creating, is dark and desolate as she will have to watch me tear down her WFWF while she is helpless to stop me.
Lila, I’ll make you wish you had sent Tyler Draven after me instead of Trace Demon. I’m going to make your life a living hell.
The revolution may be dead but the war has only just begun.
Boston, MA : March 19, 2018
The Art of War
The rain beats down against the window of the tiny exam room on the fourth floor of the Massachusetts General Hospital, the individual drops running down the glass mirroring the tears running down my face, the doctor’s last words still ringing in my ears like a death sentence.
The news isn’t good, Daphne. We’ve run out of options. You need another surgery. We have to do an arthrodesis. Cervical spinal fusion.
Will it work? Will I be able to wrestle again?
It’s a possibility but I wouldn’t get your hopes up. I am sorry. We’re doing the best we can but the damage is too severe.
The doctor spouted a list of details about arranging and prepping for the surgery that I understood one in four words of. He noticed and said it’s okay, the nurse will give me printed instructions written in layman’s terms before I check out.
I don’t know why but I thanked the doctor. Stupid thing to say after he just told me my life is practically over. If I can’t wrestle again I don’t know what I will do. It’s all I ever wanted. It can’t end like this.
That’s when the tears started.
Somehow I pull myself together, switching from the hospital gown into my clothes, splashing copious amounts of cold water on my face to stop the tears and hide the redness. I don’t want Frank to see me like this.
I won’t be a distraction, ‘specially not now that he has finally broken through the glass ceiling. I need him to stay on top as he may be my only hope at making my mark in pro wrestling. “Daphne Velasquez, manager of champions". Not quite the same as “Daphne Velasquez, champion" but it’s something.
The nurse checks on me again. She’s doing her best to be nice about it but I can tell they want the exam room for the next patient. I put on my happy face and head to the waiting room where Frank is sitting with his head buried in a book: The Art of War. He’s taking his new philosophy to the extreme. I would be scared for Lila if I actually gave two sh*ts about her.
He looks up from the book as I get closer, quickly bookmarking his spot and standing up to greet me.
Hey Daph, how’d it go?
I need another surgery.
Damn it, I just blurted it out. So much for being strong. At least I’m not crying.
Mantenerlo juntos chica. Tú puedes superar esto.
<Hold it together girl. You can get though this.>
Sh*t. I’m sorry.
Don’t be. It’s Ante Whitner’s fault. Puto cabrón.
* pause *
Can we not talk about this now? I need some time.
Yeah, sure, whatever you want. I’m here for you.
We leave the doctor’s office in silence. We take the elevator in silence. We walk to the car in silence. He wants to say something but has no idea what to say. I want him to say something but have no idea what I want to hear.
The silence is deafening.
Once we’re in the car, Frank silently weaving in between the typical crazy Boston drivers fighting the urge to curse out the worst of the lot for my benefit, I can’t take it anymore. I need to talk about something, anything to get my mind off my neck and the possible end of my wrestling career.
Sarah mentioned she was concerned about Frank’s mental state. This seems like a good time to get a read on where he’s at.
Are you mad at me? Disappointed?
Hell no. Why would you even ask?
Because I’m the one who came up with the idea of cashing in the Golden Opportunity. I dragged you off your golden path.
Hardly. The revolution was dead the moment I slammed Lila into a wall.
Oh man, I can’t believe you did that. I’ve never seen you so pissed off.
You bet your sweet ass I was. Still am! Lila may have been out to eliminate Trace but she planned it so that it ruined MY show. She had no intention of letting me put on a good show. She wanted to eliminate the revolution too and she succeeded. Two birds with one stone.
Holy sh*t! Is Frank right? Did Lila really plan it out to eliminate Trace Demon AND the revolution in one fell swoop? I wouldn’t give her that much credit but he makes sense.
Damn, she’s good… for a conniving puta.
Yes she is. If only she had worked with me we could have achieved something great.
I doubt she’s satisfied with the end of the revolution. You think will she come after you?
She can try but she’ll find out I can be a conniving bastard too.
Huh, you? Conniving? Puh-lease.
I have a trick or two up my sleeves.
Well well well. It didn’t take long for the straight as an arrow boy scout to start talking like a Trace Demon wannabe, hatching secret plots and plans to cover his ass. I thought I would be the one calling on all of my fifteen years of experience to help him navigate through the maze of backstage bullsh*t but maybe not.
What about Mak Cross? You think he’s Lila’s errand boy out to teach you a lesson?
Doubt it. If Lila wanted to teach me a lesson, she would have put me in a no DQ match against her new boy toy Tyler. Cross is just some unlucky shmuck who chose the wrong time to make his big return.
You sure ‘bout that? He’s a former contender and pretty highly regarded.
Meh, I did some research and wasn’t impressed. He lacked faith in himself. Maybe he found it during his sabbatical, maybe not.
You don’t really care, do you?
Nope. He can be a whole new man with a plan full of piss and vinegar. Doesn’t change the facts. Every time Lila trots out one of these moldy oldies, she’s grasping at a straw trying to find her hero. I’m going to beat him to show her that she should have backed me. I’m going to punish his poor unfortunate ass because I can and it will piss off Lila. I hope you’re okay with that.
Whatever keeps you on top, Frank. I got your back.
For better or worse, this is the path Frank has chosen and I’m down with it. He could benefit from being less fanatical but Frank seems to operate at his best when he is fighting for a greater cause. If I’m going to work with Sarah to calm Frank down, I have to step carefully so that I don’t take away his winning edge.
Charlotte, NC : March 29, 2018 : New Day Rising
Welcome Back Mak!
Maybe I’ll take a break that’s been in the wings for a really long time. Maybe I won’t learn and I’ll be back, bitter, hurt, and title less.
- Mak Cross, 4/13/14
Do you remember those words, Mr. Mak Cross? You said them almost four years ago shortly before you tucked your tail between your legs and left the WFWF. Your words tell the entire story of our match.
A promising young talented wrestler who came up short in a few title matches and was forced to face his own shortcomings. Did he have it in him to man up and shatter the glass ceiling?
I could be describing either one of us.
The difference between us is that you saw the brass ring and believed it to be out of your reach. When you couldn’t grab it, you gave up. Tell me, were you bitter because you failed or because you realized you didn’t have the strength of character to keep trying?
I saw the brass ring too. I didn’t give up when my first few attempts to grab it came up short. I fought harder. I fought smarter. And at Back to Basics I grabbed that brass ring with both hands. It’s mine now. I’ve got the gold to prove it.
I am the International Champion!
What you dream, I make real.
What you want, I have.
Who you want to be, I am.
I am every last woulda’, coulda’, shoulda’ of your life wrapped up in one lethal package. At New Day Rising you get the rare privilege of looking into a crystal ball and seeing what could have been if only you had a pair.
It’s a new WFWF Mak. Long gone are the friends and foes of your past - no more Schneider, Shannon, Quinn, Enchanted and Slanted, and so on. Out with the old and in with the new.
Are you ready for the new? Are you ready for the “Lethal Weapon” Frank Lynn?
Lila has given you the opportunity to make a big splash. Come at me bro. This is your chance to make up for all your past failures. Step into the ring and knock off the brand new International Champion.
Maybe you think I’m a scumbag who deserves an ass whipping for what I did at Back to Basics. Maybe you think that was the only way I could beat Whitner or Brennan for their titles. Maybe you think you’re the one who can take me down a peg.
Maybe you’re an idiot.
I beat the likes of Kyzer, Demon, Whitner, Crowe, and others by being the better man in the ring. I can kick ass with the best of them - past, present, and future. I would have won the title fair and square if Lila gave me the chance. She wasn’t going to so I flipped the script on her and David Brennan. I worked smarter, not harder, and became a champion.
Now I have the belt to go with the respect I already earned. Don’t be fooled by the tough talk of my recent opponents. Any of them who says he didn’t get a lump in his throat when he saw my name opposite his on a card is lying through his teeth. I am a force to be reckoned with. Anybody who wants my belt is going to have to pry it from my cold dead hands. You’re going to find out first hand.
I ask you again: Mak Cross, are you ready for the “Lethal Weapon” Frank Lynn?
I seriously doubt it. Forget all your past failures, put on your big boy pants, and try to be a better wrestler than you were before. Bring me the fight of your life. Just don’t get your hopes up because it won’t be enough.
I’m going to stick my size thirteens where the sun don’t shine and send you to the back of the line. Say hi to Trevor Wolf when you get there.
Welcome back Mak. Time to start paying your dues all over again.
New Orleans, LA : March 10, 2018 : Back to Basics
Back to Basics could be going better but it’s not too late to recover. The revolution can still make it’s point. All Joe has to do is beat Brennan clean like I just did to Kyzer and he will tip the scales in our favor. Respect, honor, and sportsmanship can win out over violence and anarchy.
It didn’t start out so well. I let Ante get under my skin and lost my cool during the opening when Ante attacked me. That damn Lynn temper got the better of me. I abused my role as GM to ?win?… ?take?… ?steal?… the Golden Opportunity from him. I’m not proud of myself but I am a champion now. Finally. If anyone wants to say I didn’t earn it I will point out that I beat Whitner twice before and should have been the Golden Opportunity champion months ago. I simply took possession of what was already mine.
I don’t even want to think about Trevor Wolf. Sucks that I was changing into my wrestling gear in the locker room when the stupid idiot lost his mind. By the time I knew something was going down, it was already over. I can’t do anything about it now but one day I’ll make the damn fool wish he had stayed dead.
I think I got the support of the fans back with my performance against Kyzer. It wasn’t easy but I beat him clean, 1-2-3 in the middle of the ring. Message sent: Frank Lynn can beat anyone while playing by the rules. I don’t need shortcuts.
It was extremely satisfying hearing the entire arena chant “This is wrestling!” as I left the ring. They get it.
Now for the most tense part of the show.
Trace Demon.
He worries me. The man creates chaos where ever he goes and right now he is in the ring talking up a storm. He could destroy everything the revolution is working for.
I’m on pins and needles listening to his every word, cursing the fact that he outsmarted Lila yet again and is getting a title shot that he hasn’t earned. Spitting in the face of the revolution and spoiling the revolution’s big night. How many times do I have to beat him to put him in his place?
Then IT happens.
The big IT I was afraid of.
The big IT that ruined the revolution’s night.
The big IT that changed everything.
Lila Sleater showed her true colors. She orchestrated a very public hit on Trace Demon. The kid, Tyler Draven, carried IT out in the middle of the ring. I fight the urge to puke all over the gorilla position as I watch each swing of the barbwire bat and hear the sickeningly wet thwacking sounds as the bat crashes into Trace’s cranium once… twice… three times.
Trace Demon may be the biggest pile of sh*t in the WFWF but even he doesn’t deserve this. Christ, look at him. It’s going to take more than all the king’s horses and all the king’s men to put him back together again. It’s gonna’ take a damn miracle.
I yell for the paramedics to get to the ring, as unnecessary as it is since they took off after the first blow to Trace’s head. I watch in silence along with everybody else, finding myself saying a quiet prayer for Trace Demon. The irony isn’t lost on me.
Moments later, the kid walks past the gorilla position, trying to look remorseful even as he drags the bloody bat behind him. Not buying it kid. You’re a marked man.
I oughta’ take that bat and shove it right up your ass, you sick son of a b*tch.
Tyler walks on, doing his best to ignore me. Smart move. I swear if he so much as glanced in my direction I would carry out my threat.
Lila follows behind the kid, also trying to look remorseful but I’m not buying it from her any more than I was from the kid.
My vision goes red with rage. I jump the table, grab her by the shoulders and slam her into the wall. The rest of the staff back away. You don’t poke an angry bear and you don’t tug on Superman’s cape. Right now I’m an angry Kryptonian grizzly bear with a big red cape. It’s in every one’s best interest to stay out of my way. Lila and I are about to have a serious f*cking chat.
Congratulations, you insane f*cking b*tch! You did what Schneider, Demon, and Kyzer couldn’t do. YOU KILLED THE REVOLUTION!
She stares into my eyes defiantly but remains silent.
This was the revolution’s night. This was MY NIGHT! You just took a giant sh*t on it in front of the whole world! Trace Demon was a cancer but you… you… You are a f*cking plague!
Again, she responds with cold hard silence. She tries to push away from me but I slam her into the wall again. I feel no guilt. The b*tch deserves far worse.
Don’t you understand? Joe and I are trying to make this place better. You’re making it worse! YOU RUINED MY SHOW!
She speaks, slow and low so that only I can hear.
It’s not your show Frank. It never was. Learn from what you just witnessed. Don’t push me, ‘specially tonight. I’m not in the mood.
Frankly, I don’t give a damn. You make me sick.
Be very careful. You’re Cinderella and the clock strikes midnight soon.
You don’t scare me. Now get the f*ck out of my sight. You can leave with what little dignity you have left or I can get security to escort your sorry ass out of the building. Doesn’t matter to me. You are leaving NOW!
She stares at me icily as I slowly remove my hands from her shoulders and let her step away from the wall. She makes a haughty “harumph” sound and walks away, her head still held high as if she is f*cking proud of what she did.
F*ck you b*tch. I thought this place could be saved. I thought the foundation was sound enough that we could fix it with a tweak here and there. You showed me I was wrong. The foundation is cracked beyond repair. The WFWF cannot be fixed. It must be demolished so something new can rise like a phoenix from the ashes.
WFWF New Day Rising RP
When a Good Man Goes to War
featuring Frank Lynn
”Madness, as you know, is like gravity. All it takes is a little push.” - The Joker
Framingham, MA : March 17, 2018
Party like it’s 1999!
The weather gods were nice, allowing the party I planned for Frank to go off without a hitch. Considering how many of his friends I invited, it would be a good bit more crowded if we were confined to the house. Even the barn would be hard pressed to hold the more than four dozen people who showed up.
Our guests are spread out all over. Some in the house watching All or Nothing and Back to Basics highlights. Others milling about on the deck and the yard eating, drinking, and socializing. And of course there are a few workaholic wrestlers in the barn putting Frank’s wrestling ring and other equipment to good use. Doctor Claw is even joining in the festivities, doing his part to entertain a few toddlers that parents unable to get baby sitters brought to the party… or maybe they wanted to give Frank and I a taste of what is coming our way in a few months. Every so often there is a loud cheer from the barn as I assume someone just pulled off an impressive move.
I see Frank drifting towards the barn again. He keeps trying to join the wrestling diehards and I keep intercepting him. Today is a day for him to forget about the WFWF, Legacy, and wrestling in general. I want him to stop and smell the roses. He is the new International Champion. No matter how questionable he thinks his tactics were or what they will cost him, he is a champion!
Seriously Frank, your soul is not on the line every single time you step into the ring. You won’t spend an eternity burning in hell because just this once, you thought of yourself first. Stop with the guilt trips, the rationalizations, and the sleepless nights. Lighten up. Enjoy the moment.
I grab a cold beer from the cooler and waddle towards Frank even as he continues his migration towards the barn. It’s the slowest foot race in history as he is trying not to look like he wants to go into the barn while I’m starting to put on baby weight. Judging from the size of my stomach, the kid is gonna’ be a big ‘un.
Abraham sees me waddling across the yard and comes over, offering an arm to help me. You old softy.
Hi Sarah. Shall we go save Frank from himself?
You read my mind.
I look at Frank and see all the things I love about him. Intelligent. Handsome. Funny - when he wants to be which isn’t nearly as often as I’d like. Passionate. So damn passionate. He has a fire burning inside him and it drives him to be the best at everything he tries.
I know that his passion is going to make him a great husband and father. I worry that his passion is going to be his downfall as a wrestler. The way he threw himself into the revolution was inspiring… and scary. He was so damn obsessive about his precious revolution.
And now he is just as passionate about his new philosophy - his attempt to come to grips with the failure of the revolution at Back to Basics and his own perceived fall from grace. I’m getting scared again. His emotional pendulum swings so wide and so fast. It’s practically manic behavior. It can’t be good for him.
Has he been skipping his therapy sessions?
As Abe and I get closer, I can hear Frank talking… no, actually he’s on his soapbox sermonizing to his disciples, a half dozen or so Legacy wrestlers. I slow down, giving Abraham a gentle tug so that he knows I want to stand back, watch, and listen.
I’m telling you, the revolution was a good idea but it was ahead of its time. The WFWF isn’t ready for reform. I mean… the WFWF is… well… it’s like that outhouse over there.
This should be good. How is Frank going to tie an outhouse to the current state of affairs in the WFWF? I smile at Abe and he smiles back, adding a wink.
See, when the agent first showed me this place, she went on and on about the outhouse. How it was a historical landmark as the last remaining original structure on the property. A one hundred year old bathroom.
Now what I’m telling you is that the only thing original about that damn outhouse is the hole in the ground it sits over… a hole full of dried up sh*t! Everything else has been replaced numerous times over the years.
You can replace all the boards you want, slap as many new coats of paint on it as you want, it doesn’t change the facts. It is and always will be a sh*thouse.
How many drinks has Frank had? I wish I could have a few. Then some of his ramblings might make sense to me.
Are you following me here? The WFWF is a f*cking sh*thouse. I could spend the rest of my life trying to replace the boards and paint ‘em up to look nice. I wouldn’t change a thing. It is and always will be a sh*thouse.
The revolution was doomed to fail. You can’t fix the unfixable. Look what it cost Josh and Joe. They tried and not only did they fail, they’re on the shelf indefinitely. What good have they really done? I’ll tell you. None! They didn’t make a single shred of a difference and now they’re home nursing broken bodies to match their broken dreams.
The small crowd gathered around Frank grows in size as he continues to preach, mostly young wrestlers just getting started in Legacy who look up at him with respect and a touch of awe. They’re dreamers and Frank represents the dream come true… a WFWF champion. Frank could say anything and they would believe him.
Did you see what happened to Anna Ahriman and Trace Demon? Even a stinkin’ bastard like Trace didn’t deserve a barbwire baseball bat to the head!
That’s when the freakin’ light bulb switched on and I knew what I had to do. The foundation of the WFWF is damaged beyond repair. It’s the hole full of sh*t under the outhouse. Lila is the biggest dried up turd in the hole.
You can dress it up as fancy as you like but a sh*thouse is still a sh*thouse. It cannot be changed. I must tear it down and build something new.
Frank makes an overly dramatic sweeping motion with his arm causing several of his disciples to duck for cover and points at the “historic” outhouse.
I should take an axe to that outhouse right now and clear room for something nice, maybe a gazebo and a swing so Sarah and I can sit there in the evening and watch our kid swing away in front of the setting sun.
Damn Frank, you say you aren’t a poet but I disagree. That was sweet.
Don’t you all get it? I should take an axe to the entire WFWF and tear it down around Lila’s ears. That’s why I took the International title from Brennan. It’s irrelevant how I got the belt. It’s mine now and that’s all that matters! Step one in my demolition of the WFWF.
There is so much more to do but I will get it done. I will tear it all down and leave Lila Sleater standing in a pile of rubble with no choice. Rebuild the WFWF as something better.
I’m not giving up on the revolution. I’m deferring it. To save the WFWF I must destroy it first! Forget being a soldier in a revolution. I am the destroyer!
Okay Frank, you’re losing it now trying way too hard to convince yourself. Your passion has swung the pendulum too far. Why can’t you be happy with a championship and your good health? Why do you need a cause to fight for, whether it’s a revolution for change or a campaign of destruction?
I think now would be a good time to give Frank that beer.
I nod in agreement with Abe. Frank vented and it is time to bring him down, like nursing someone through a bad acid trip. Abe helps me to get through the small almost rabid crowd surrounding Frank before they can go into the barn and beat the hell out of each other in the name of good sportsmanship or honorable combat or whatever idealistic bullsh*t floats their boat.
I wrap my arms around Frank, kiss him on the cheek, and hand him the cold beer. My presence immediately calms him down. I not so gently redirect him back to the deck, suggesting we go for a quick dip in the hot tub to further distract him. Hell, I’d get naked and give him a lap dance right here in front of everybody if that is what it would take to get him off his soapbox.
He is so passionate. Too passionate for his own good, at least when it comes to the WFWF.
I don’t know how but I’m going to make Frank see it my way. He should channel his passion into his own career and to hell with everybody else. They don’t care about him so why should he care about them.
There are no children in the WFWF who need their hands held when they cross the street. Only adults fully aware that they work in a dog eat dog business. Not a single one of them had a gun pointed at their head and was told they had to wrestle in the WFWF. They all volunteered. Let them pay whatever price the WFWF demands of them.
I just want you to be safe and successful. The best way to do that is make sure you are focused on YOUR career.
Framingham, MA : March 19, 2018
Why Frank, Why?
The smoke has cleared, the dust settled, and one thing is crystal clear:
The revolution is dead!
I know because I hammered the final nail in the coffin myself when I took my shot at Brennan’s already shattered face with the knee heard round the world to become the new International Champion.
It would be easy to imagine Trace Demon reveling in my failure with a hearty I told you so!, except that he is currently impersonating a cabbage patch kid in the hospital, his brains more scrambled than the eggs I had for breakfast today.
It would be easy to imagine David Brennan reveling in my failure with a hearty I told you so!, except he is currently licking his wounds trying to remember where he put the International Championship belt, his face more scrambled than the eggs I had for breakfast today.
It would be easy to imagine Lila Sleater reveling in my failure with a hearty I told you so!, except that she is currently searching for the remnants of her dignity, her morals more scrambled than the eggs I had for breakfast today.
There’s nobody left to call me out.
Except for me.
I know my actions at Back to Basics bring into question every single word I’ve said the past year, every single action I’ve taken in the name of the revolution. I have been raked over the hottest of coals by every Tom, Dick, and Jane on the internet and social media who claims to have any knowledge of the wrestling business. The dirt sheets are calling me a Judas, the traitor who turned his back on the revolution the first chance he got to steal a title… actually two titles in one night.
F*ck each and every one of you.
Tell me, and be honest, what were you talking about around the water cooler the day after Back to Basics?
Was it Billy Broom’s first win? Was it my clean win over Kyzer? Was it the influx of new and promising talent?
Or was it the heinous actions of the scum of the roster? Were you talking about Wolf’s cowardly attack on Anna Ahriman? Tyler Draven pulling a Negan on Trace Demon under the very specific orders of Lila Sleater? Michael Kyzer turning the main event into a criminal assault that left David Brennan and Joe Bishop battered, bloodied, and broken?
Let he who is without sin cast the first stone.
Oh look, no stones heading in my direction.
The revolution failed because at its core the goal was to take what already existed and fix it. The catastrophe that was Back to Basics showed me the WFWF is rotten to the core. There is no fixing the WFWF.
Once I realized that, I knew I had to change my focus. There is hope for a better WFWF but it’s going to take drastic action. I have to destroy everything the WFWF stands for, tear down the entire structure so we can rebuild it in a new image.
That’s why I used the last minutes of my time as GM to change the rules. I made the Golden Opportunity something that could be cashed in any time, any place. Then I cashed it in on a debilitated David Brennan and took the International Championship. That was the first strike of the wrecking ball, a warning shot across the bow of the ship sending my new message to the WFWF - you’re f*cked.
You can question my methods but you can’t question the results. I wanted someone to take a bite out of the DB f’n WF. Ante wouldn’t step up. Joe couldn’t step up. So I took it upon myself to do the deed, as dirty as it was.
Can you hear me now, David Brennan? It’s not the way I would prefer to win the International Championship but you said it yourself before the International Championship Open Invitational Gauntlet. The only way anybody was going to take the title from you would be if they were willing and able to kill you. You singled out Trace Demon as the only man on the roster who could get the job done.
Surprise mother f*cker!
The Lethal Weapon got the job done!
I steamrolled through the gauntlet and you got lucky when Schneider interfered. I didn’t lose to you. I never even got to face you.
I beat the man you said was your greatest threat. Twice. Let Lila and Tyler take all the credit but anybody with two functioning brain cells knows it was me who broke Trace Demon.
I beat the man who is your current #1 contender to the World Heavyweight Championship. Michael Kyzer will still get his shot but everybody knows who is the real #1 contender.
I saw very clearly that Lila was never going to give me what I earned so I took it for myself. I beat you the only way available to me and took one of your precious titles!
I showed you that I am the one with the killer instinct you should fear, not Trace Demon or Michael Kyzer. Trace isn’t going to be bothering anyone for a long time and Kyzer… well, I showed that he isn’t a threat without a pipe or an army of demented Karate Kid rejects to do his dirty work.
I am the real threat, Davey boy. I played the game better than anybody else and I am the International Champion! I am the future and the future is now!
You want the International Championship back? I’m not hard to find. Come get me. Just look for the only other WFWF wrestler with a shiny gold belt around his waist.
You don’t scare me.
You aren’t even the real enemy. You’re collateral damage.
The real enemy is Lila Sleater, the rot at the core of the apple. Her future, the one I will be creating, is dark and desolate as she will have to watch me tear down her WFWF while she is helpless to stop me.
Lila, I’ll make you wish you had sent Tyler Draven after me instead of Trace Demon. I’m going to make your life a living hell.
The revolution may be dead but the war has only just begun.
Boston, MA : March 19, 2018
The Art of War
The rain beats down against the window of the tiny exam room on the fourth floor of the Massachusetts General Hospital, the individual drops running down the glass mirroring the tears running down my face, the doctor’s last words still ringing in my ears like a death sentence.
The news isn’t good, Daphne. We’ve run out of options. You need another surgery. We have to do an arthrodesis. Cervical spinal fusion.
Will it work? Will I be able to wrestle again?
It’s a possibility but I wouldn’t get your hopes up. I am sorry. We’re doing the best we can but the damage is too severe.
The doctor spouted a list of details about arranging and prepping for the surgery that I understood one in four words of. He noticed and said it’s okay, the nurse will give me printed instructions written in layman’s terms before I check out.
I don’t know why but I thanked the doctor. Stupid thing to say after he just told me my life is practically over. If I can’t wrestle again I don’t know what I will do. It’s all I ever wanted. It can’t end like this.
That’s when the tears started.
Somehow I pull myself together, switching from the hospital gown into my clothes, splashing copious amounts of cold water on my face to stop the tears and hide the redness. I don’t want Frank to see me like this.
I won’t be a distraction, ‘specially not now that he has finally broken through the glass ceiling. I need him to stay on top as he may be my only hope at making my mark in pro wrestling. “Daphne Velasquez, manager of champions". Not quite the same as “Daphne Velasquez, champion" but it’s something.
The nurse checks on me again. She’s doing her best to be nice about it but I can tell they want the exam room for the next patient. I put on my happy face and head to the waiting room where Frank is sitting with his head buried in a book: The Art of War. He’s taking his new philosophy to the extreme. I would be scared for Lila if I actually gave two sh*ts about her.
He looks up from the book as I get closer, quickly bookmarking his spot and standing up to greet me.
Hey Daph, how’d it go?
I need another surgery.
Damn it, I just blurted it out. So much for being strong. At least I’m not crying.
Mantenerlo juntos chica. Tú puedes superar esto.
<Hold it together girl. You can get though this.>
Sh*t. I’m sorry.
Don’t be. It’s Ante Whitner’s fault. Puto cabrón.
* pause *
Can we not talk about this now? I need some time.
Yeah, sure, whatever you want. I’m here for you.
We leave the doctor’s office in silence. We take the elevator in silence. We walk to the car in silence. He wants to say something but has no idea what to say. I want him to say something but have no idea what I want to hear.
The silence is deafening.
Once we’re in the car, Frank silently weaving in between the typical crazy Boston drivers fighting the urge to curse out the worst of the lot for my benefit, I can’t take it anymore. I need to talk about something, anything to get my mind off my neck and the possible end of my wrestling career.
Sarah mentioned she was concerned about Frank’s mental state. This seems like a good time to get a read on where he’s at.
Are you mad at me? Disappointed?
Hell no. Why would you even ask?
Because I’m the one who came up with the idea of cashing in the Golden Opportunity. I dragged you off your golden path.
Hardly. The revolution was dead the moment I slammed Lila into a wall.
Oh man, I can’t believe you did that. I’ve never seen you so pissed off.
You bet your sweet ass I was. Still am! Lila may have been out to eliminate Trace but she planned it so that it ruined MY show. She had no intention of letting me put on a good show. She wanted to eliminate the revolution too and she succeeded. Two birds with one stone.
Holy sh*t! Is Frank right? Did Lila really plan it out to eliminate Trace Demon AND the revolution in one fell swoop? I wouldn’t give her that much credit but he makes sense.
Damn, she’s good… for a conniving puta.
Yes she is. If only she had worked with me we could have achieved something great.
I doubt she’s satisfied with the end of the revolution. You think will she come after you?
She can try but she’ll find out I can be a conniving bastard too.
Huh, you? Conniving? Puh-lease.
I have a trick or two up my sleeves.
Well well well. It didn’t take long for the straight as an arrow boy scout to start talking like a Trace Demon wannabe, hatching secret plots and plans to cover his ass. I thought I would be the one calling on all of my fifteen years of experience to help him navigate through the maze of backstage bullsh*t but maybe not.
What about Mak Cross? You think he’s Lila’s errand boy out to teach you a lesson?
Doubt it. If Lila wanted to teach me a lesson, she would have put me in a no DQ match against her new boy toy Tyler. Cross is just some unlucky shmuck who chose the wrong time to make his big return.
You sure ‘bout that? He’s a former contender and pretty highly regarded.
Meh, I did some research and wasn’t impressed. He lacked faith in himself. Maybe he found it during his sabbatical, maybe not.
You don’t really care, do you?
Nope. He can be a whole new man with a plan full of piss and vinegar. Doesn’t change the facts. Every time Lila trots out one of these moldy oldies, she’s grasping at a straw trying to find her hero. I’m going to beat him to show her that she should have backed me. I’m going to punish his poor unfortunate ass because I can and it will piss off Lila. I hope you’re okay with that.
Whatever keeps you on top, Frank. I got your back.
For better or worse, this is the path Frank has chosen and I’m down with it. He could benefit from being less fanatical but Frank seems to operate at his best when he is fighting for a greater cause. If I’m going to work with Sarah to calm Frank down, I have to step carefully so that I don’t take away his winning edge.
Charlotte, NC : March 29, 2018 : New Day Rising
Welcome Back Mak!
Maybe I’ll take a break that’s been in the wings for a really long time. Maybe I won’t learn and I’ll be back, bitter, hurt, and title less.
- Mak Cross, 4/13/14
Do you remember those words, Mr. Mak Cross? You said them almost four years ago shortly before you tucked your tail between your legs and left the WFWF. Your words tell the entire story of our match.
A promising young talented wrestler who came up short in a few title matches and was forced to face his own shortcomings. Did he have it in him to man up and shatter the glass ceiling?
I could be describing either one of us.
The difference between us is that you saw the brass ring and believed it to be out of your reach. When you couldn’t grab it, you gave up. Tell me, were you bitter because you failed or because you realized you didn’t have the strength of character to keep trying?
I saw the brass ring too. I didn’t give up when my first few attempts to grab it came up short. I fought harder. I fought smarter. And at Back to Basics I grabbed that brass ring with both hands. It’s mine now. I’ve got the gold to prove it.
I am the International Champion!
What you dream, I make real.
What you want, I have.
Who you want to be, I am.
I am every last woulda’, coulda’, shoulda’ of your life wrapped up in one lethal package. At New Day Rising you get the rare privilege of looking into a crystal ball and seeing what could have been if only you had a pair.
It’s a new WFWF Mak. Long gone are the friends and foes of your past - no more Schneider, Shannon, Quinn, Enchanted and Slanted, and so on. Out with the old and in with the new.
Are you ready for the new? Are you ready for the “Lethal Weapon” Frank Lynn?
Lila has given you the opportunity to make a big splash. Come at me bro. This is your chance to make up for all your past failures. Step into the ring and knock off the brand new International Champion.
Maybe you think I’m a scumbag who deserves an ass whipping for what I did at Back to Basics. Maybe you think that was the only way I could beat Whitner or Brennan for their titles. Maybe you think you’re the one who can take me down a peg.
Maybe you’re an idiot.
I beat the likes of Kyzer, Demon, Whitner, Crowe, and others by being the better man in the ring. I can kick ass with the best of them - past, present, and future. I would have won the title fair and square if Lila gave me the chance. She wasn’t going to so I flipped the script on her and David Brennan. I worked smarter, not harder, and became a champion.
Now I have the belt to go with the respect I already earned. Don’t be fooled by the tough talk of my recent opponents. Any of them who says he didn’t get a lump in his throat when he saw my name opposite his on a card is lying through his teeth. I am a force to be reckoned with. Anybody who wants my belt is going to have to pry it from my cold dead hands. You’re going to find out first hand.
I ask you again: Mak Cross, are you ready for the “Lethal Weapon” Frank Lynn?
I seriously doubt it. Forget all your past failures, put on your big boy pants, and try to be a better wrestler than you were before. Bring me the fight of your life. Just don’t get your hopes up because it won’t be enough.
I’m going to stick my size thirteens where the sun don’t shine and send you to the back of the line. Say hi to Trevor Wolf when you get there.
Welcome back Mak. Time to start paying your dues all over again.