Post by King Richius on Apr 22, 2018 10:18:15 GMT -5
Prologue: Getting off with a warning
Framingham, MA : April 20, 2018
What the hell is that damn noise? I can barely hear the Monster Magnet song “Spine of God” blaring out of my very expensive car stereo speakers.
Oh sh*t, it’s the cops, sirens blaring and lights flashing, chasing me while I speed along at least twenty miles over the limit completely oblivious. How long have they been trying to pull me over?
I have no idea.
Now that I have noticed, I better to stop and take my medicine. A speeding ticket shouldn’t take too big a bite out of my wallet. I turn off the stereo, slow down to five miles per hour below the limit, stick my arm out of the window, and point to hotel parking lot in the distance. Damn country roads don’t have shoulders so it’s the first safe place to pull over. The cop behind me gets the message, flashing his high beams twice, then turning off his siren. He leaves the lights on, I guess in case I forget he’s there and keep on driving.
I pull into the lot, the cop pulls in behind me. He does me a favor by turning off the lights before he gets out and makes the slow walk to my driver’s side window, waving his flashlight up and down my Impala, then inside the window checking the seats and floors. He won’t see anything interesting: I’m too anal retentive to let the car get messy so there are no empty bottles, cans, or even fast food wrappers laying around. Sorry officer, I’m not drunk, just careless.
Evenin’ Frank.
Well damn. It’s Sheriff Phil Lynott. If ever there was a modern day Andy Griffith, then Phil would be your man. Sure, he enforces the law but he much prefers the community outreach side of his job. A genuinely nice guy who would rather help people than lock them up and throw away the key. It’s a safe bet that as a kid he would stand around busy intersections waiting for little old ladies to come along so he could help them cross the street. He wouldn’t last two minutes on the Boston force but out here in the sticks he’s the perfect man for the job… which is why he’s won something like ten elections in a row.
A month or so after I moved to town, he came by the house to introduce himself. He was a wrestling fan so he knew who I was. We had a long chat where he asked a lot of questions trying to get a feel for the new local celebrity. I passed his inspection because by the end of his visit, he and I had worked out a deal for local kids, the ones in danger of becoming “problems” for their parents and the law, to come to my gym and work out with me while I tried to drop some of my so called adult wisdom on them.
Goin’ a little fast, weren’t you?
Guess so. I wasn’t paying attention, kinda’ lost in thought. Sorry, Phil.
Well, I don’t see any empties, you don’t smell of alcohol, and you don’t sound drunk.
No sir. I haven’t had a drink all day. Scout’s honor. I’m as sober as… well, whatever’s the most sober thing you can think of.
I’ll take your word for it… this time. You make a habit of speeding around at sixty-five inside the town limits and I’ll make you walk the line while reciting the alphabet backwards.
A joke I think, one that I bet only cops ever laugh at. Surely even an old school guy like Phil has a breathalyzer in his glove compartment. Anyway, I’m not laughing. We’re friends of a sort but I’m not pushing my luck with Johnny Law. Besides, I’m not entirely sure I can recite the alphabet backwards sober. Z, Y, X, W, U… no… V, then U… Damn that is not as easy as it sounds.
You want my driver’s license and registration?
Nah. It’s late and the roads are empty. I imagine you have a lot on your mind, what with that pretty girl of yours pregnant and the @ss kicking you took in the ring. I think a warning is good enough for a first time offense.
<switches to a very bad imitation of Roscoe P. Coltrane>
Don’t speed in mah town you whipper-snapper or else!
Another joke but this time we both laugh. Phil’s in a good mood. My lucky night.
Instead of driving around like a madman stewing in your troubles, how’s about we go over to Rosita’s? You can tell me what’s botherin’ you over a cup a joe and a slice of pie. My treat.
Sure thing, Phil. Why don’t you lead the way just to make sure I stay under the limit?
Heh. You’re smarter than you look, leadfoot.
WFWF Riot on Broad Street RP
Ride the Lightning
featuring Frank Lynn
“I feel the closest to crazy when I’m disagreeing with the voices in my head.” - Mira Grant
Boston, MA : April 14, 2018
Scott has no clue
When we first started this meeting some thirty minutes ago, I sat behind Abe’s desk and Scott sat in front of it. It didn’t take long for Scott’s nerves to get the better of him and he got up, then started pacing back and forth. He was wearing a hole in the rug and giving me a pain in my neck as I kept swiveling my head back and forth like a fan watching a tennis match at Wimbledon. If the meeting lasted much longer, he would have better cardio training for the day than me, something which weighed heavily on me since my loss to Mak Cross which was partially due to me running out of steam at the end.
Are you even listening Frank?
Of course I am. The revolution merch went on clearance after Back to Basics. After New Day Rising they gave up and shipped the remaining stock to needy people in Guatemala… or was it Panama? I lost my first match after my questionable title win. The fans hate me. The locker room hates me. Lila Sleater hates me. Things are bleak. It’s the end of the world. Did I forget anything?
Your revolution merch is worth less than a roll of toilet paper, Lila wants you gone from the WFWF, your title is in jeopardy, and you’re making jokes. Ha freakin’ ha.
I laugh so I won’t cry. But seriously, what do you suggest I do?
First off, please explain this destroyer stuff to me because I don’t get it. Maybe you were too busy losing to Mak Cross to notice but New Day Rising was a pretty good night for the kind of wrestling the revolution wanted. It’s not too late to rekindle the revolution.
Thanks for the reminder. New Day Rising would have been a great night for the revolution with all the clean matches and lack of ultra-bloody ultra-violence, excepting a last minute appearance by Kyzer and his pet dragon (which reminds me, I haven’t watched the latest season of Game of Thrones yet). Too bad it happened in spite of me, not because of me.
Honestly, there’s no turning the clock back and restarting the revolution, not that I even want to. As long as Lila is in charge, sh*t will continue to hit the fan. One good night won’t change that fact. It was an aberration, reality playing a nasty practical joke on me.
It IS too late. The revolution is dead and buried. There’ll be no change until Lila Sleater is gone.
That’s just great! You’re going to spend all your time and energy feuding with Lila. No wonder Mak Cross beat you.
Low blow you ungrateful bastard. I made you a pile of cash on the revolution merch and this is how you repay me? I bet you would love to drop me as a client and go sign Mak Cross. F*ck you!
Stop that noise. Get a grip on yourself.
I’m taking my frustration at losing to Mak out on Scott. Fact is, I underestimated Mak and I underestimated how much the International Championship would inspire him or any opponent to step their game up to the next level. I lost because Mak wanted it more than me. It won’t happen again. At least it won’t if I can get out of this meeting and get back to my training.
He won’t beat me again. My belt is on the line. So is any respect I have left. No way am I becoming the next Dex!
Well that’s good to hear. I don’t care how many times you put one over on Lila because that doesn’t sell sh*t. You need to win your matches. That’s what sells.
Relax. I’m done with Lila for a while now that she can’t fine, suspend, or fire me. Mak Cross has one hundred per cent of my attention.
I still don’t get this destroyer gimmick. I cannot market what I don’t understand. Please explain it to me.
I’m regretting ending my public statement with talk of destroying the WFWF so a new WFWF can be built. Hell, I’m regretting winning the title the way I did with the Golden Opportunity cash in. It seemed like a good idea at the time. So did becoming some kind of anti-authority vigilante. I’m not so sure now.
Even a blind man can see that it hasn’t worked out all that well. My first time out as “the destroyer” I got beat by a chronic underachiever with four years of ring rust and I pissed off Lila Sleater.
Now Lila has fired back by hiring an army of lawyers to go through my new contract with a fine tooth comb and by giving Cross a title shot. I’m not worried about the lawyers because I made sure the contract is locked down tight but Mak is a different story. He’ll be coming at me even harder this time. I’ll have to be at my absolute best to beat Mak Cross and retain my title. Any other plans will have to wait for the New York or Boston shows… if I’m still in a position to make a difference.
Damn, I wish I was half as confident as I sound in my promos. A disastrous day as GM and a loss has brought on a serious case of the “oh sh*ts”. No wonder Scott is worried.
I don’t know if I can. Things went sideways after Back to Basics. I’m still trying to get my sh*t together.
Let me know when you do because as of now I have no f*cking clue who you are.
Neither do I.
Can’t you slap my face on a shirt with the words “The Lethal Weapon”?
That might sell to the few fans who don’t want to lynch you but it doesn’t do squat for trying to get you endorsement deals.
Sorry, that’s all I've got for you now. Until I get my sh*t figured out I shouldn’t be worrying about any endorsements anyway.
Fine. I’ll sit in my office with my thumbs up my @ss until you figure it out. Do me a favor and do NOT lose the international Championship to Mak Cross.
I don’t plan to. We done? I need to get back to my training.
Scott nods yes, hastily shakes my hand, slams his briefcase shut, and practically storms out of the office shaking his head the entire time. I wish I had some answers for him. I don’t but as soon as I do, he’ll be one of the first to know.
Boston, MA : April 17, 2018
Daphne will do whatever it takes
Sweat is pouring off me like Niagara Falls in rainy season, all thanks to taskmaster Daphne who is acting like the bastard offspring of the drill sergeant from Full Metal Jacket and a physical trainer on a cocktail of cocaine and energy drinks. I know she can’t work out while her neck heals but damn it, does that mean I have to do enough training for two wrestlers?
Really, again?
Yes, you will do it again until you get it right.
We’ve spent the last hour on every possible move I can execute from the pump handle position. It’s getting silly. I cannot imagine a time when I will want to do a pump handle into a sling shot power bomb lung blower combo into a Boston Crab submission finisher.
Seriously, I can’t imagine it. It would be simpler to run my opponent over with my car.
Shut up and do it.
We’ve been at it for hours. I need a break.
Oh really! You need a break. Just like in your last match against Mak Cross? You had him beat but decided to take a break, sitting in the corner hoping Mak didn’t beat the count. It didn’t work. Mak got back in the ring and beat you.
Pump the breaks, Daph. I fought a hard match, damn near killed both of us when I clotheslined Mak off the top turnbuckle all the way to the floor.
No excuses! You gave up.
I did not give up!
Our shouting has drawn the attention of just about every single person in the Legacy gym. This is not a good look for either one of us. I need to set a good example for all these young guys, not look like someone cracking under the pressure of his first WFWF title.
I try to calm down but Daphne keeps on pushing. She is months away from knowing whether her doctors will clear her to wrestle again. It’s getting harder and harder to deal with her while she waits for a final verdict from her doctors.
You took your foot off the gas and it cost you the match. “The destroyer” had no killer instinct! If only I had been there…
You think you would’ve made a difference? You think I can only win when you’re at ringside?
If the shoe fits. Now get back to work. You’re not losing to that rat-faced bastard a second time, not with OUR belt on the line.
Our belt? I don’t like how much emphasis she put on the our. Made it sound a little too much like her belt. Let’s not forget who is the wrestler and who is the manager in this partnership.
You really don’t think I can beat Mak without you, don’t you?
Well, you couldn’t beat him when I wasn’t there. All that talk about being a destroyer and you were the one getting destroyed.
Ugh. I really, really, REALLY regret ever uttering the word “destroyer” out loud. It’s the right idea but I should have kept it to myself. Letting everyone know I want to tear Lila’s WFWF apart set me up for failure. It’s not like I can get Lila in the ring for a one on one match. She can’t touch me thanks to my contract but I can’t touch her thanks to her status as GM. Taking her down will require finesse and subtlety. Acting like a bull in a china shop worked against me when I didn’t back it up in the ring.
Look, about the destroyer stuff. It’s on the backburner. All I care about is a successful title defense. Without it I am nothing.
WE are nothing. I may never wrestle again. Your success could be my only chance at success. You will not lose. I won’t let you.
Whoa! I don’t like the sound of that.
What’s not to like? I’ve got your back and will do whatever it takes to make sure you stay International Champion.
Red alert! Don’t panic but it may be time to direct the women and children towards the lifeboats.
“Whatever it takes”? That’s not our deal. When I first asked you to be my manager I said I would never ask you to cheat for me and you said you never would. Now you say “whatever it takes” and I have to wonder if you’ve change your mind.
If you stop wasting time and get back to your training I won’t have to do anything… rash.
You’re starting to worry me. I think the sh*t show may have infected you. We play by the rules. NO CHEATING. If I can’t beat Mak Cross fair and square then I don’t deserve to be champion.
Daphne grabs my head and pulls me so close that our foreheads touch. The intense look in her eyes adds to my worries that Daphne is close to the edge.
I think I finally understand what Sarah sees in me when I go off on one of my tirades. No wonder she is even more opposed to “the destroyer” than she was to “the revolutionary”. This kind of intensity borders on fanaticism if not insanity.
Apparently none of this occurs to Daphne though as she whispers to me with a quiet aggressiveness that makes grown men piss their pants, kinda’ like Nolan’s Batman or Joker.
In that case, stop f*cking around. And. Get. Back. To. Work!
So back to work I go. I have to be better than Mak Cross. I have to be better than Brennan. I have to be better than everybody. It’s the only way to show that I am a worthy champion. And I have to remain a champion if I want any chance at taking Lila down.
We work on more variations on pump handle moves for another hour. After we run out of pump handle moves, it’s on to two hours of various moves from the fireman’s carry position.
Finally, as the sun sets outside, the sparring work comes to an end and it’s to the stationary bike for an hour of cardio. I will not run out of steam a second time. Cross is going to come at me harder than before with my title on the line. I have to come at him like a runaway freight train.
He won’t know what hit him.
Framingham, MA : April 20, 2018
Frank goes for a drive
Last night was yet another night of tossing and turning, what little sleep I got was filled with dreams I can’t remember but I’m sure they weren’t pleasant. It’s becoming the norm that I wake up feeling more tired than before I went to bed.
Sarah confirms it every morning over breakfast. Turns out I talk in my sleep. She likes to give me a daily update on whatever words and phrases she could make out in between jokes about how she is the one who is supposed to have problems sleeping due to the pregnancy, not me.
By the end of the day, our conversations shift from sleep, or lack thereof, to the WFWF. Sarah was never enthusiastic about the revolution. She’s even less enthusiastic about “the destroyer”. It’s the same argument as before though: stop trying to be my brothers’ keeper.
She’s been chipping away at me for almost a year and I have to admit, it’s starting to work. When the revolution fell flat on its face at Back to Basics, I felt like I let the whole damn world down. I had to do something to make a difference. If I couldn’t save the WFWF I would destroy it.
Now I’m wondering two things: is it possible and if it is, am I the man to do it? I don’t know about the former yet but as for the latter, my loss to Mak Cross has me thinking I’m not the man for the job.
Can’t you just try it for a show or two? You don’t need a cause to fight for. It’s okay to fight for yourself without it having to be an epic battle for some greater good.
I’ll admit it. You’re right. I went overboard with the destroyer stuff and the revolution before it. All I want now is to beat Mak Cross and put a seal of approval on my International Championship.
That’s still a bit of a cause for you. I’ve seen enough of the WFWF to know that controversy surrounds every title. Did Drakz, the so called greatest champion in WFWF history, have a single successful title match that wasn’t controversial?
I don’t even have to think about it. It’s not just Drakz’ title reign either. The WFWF titles are always surrounded by controversy no matter who is the current champion, which was a major motivation for the revolution in the first place.
Not that I remember.
Exactly. You played the game according to the standards of the WFWF and came out on top. You don’t need anyone’s validation. You are the International Champion. Don’t let the petty comments from small-minded people make you feel guilty.
I could try to explain to Sarah that the respect of the fans and the other wrestlers means as much to me as being a champion but lack of sleep combined with Daphne’s arduous training has me worn out so much I don’t feel like it. Honestly, all I want right now is a good night’s sleep. Just one night where I can get eight hours of rest without the tossing, turning, and waking up at 3 a.m. from a disturbing dream I can’t remember.
I don’t want to talk about it any more tonight. I think I’ll go for a drive if you don’t mind.
You’re a grown man. You don’t have to ask me for permission.
She doesn’t sound mad but after my recent dealings with Scott and Daphne I’m not ready to risk pissing her off too. It would be nice to have at least one person solidly on my side.
I’m sorry. It’s not you. It’s me. I need some alone time to clear my head.
It’s okay. I’ll be here when you get back. I’ll always be here for you.
Thanks babe. Love you.
Right back at ya’.
I give her a hug, a peck on the cheek, and rub her abdomen. I do that a lot now hoping to feel the baby kick. I’m amazed at how one little kick can temporarily take away all my worries.
No kick tonight. *sigh* I’ll have to find some other means of escape.
I hop in the Impala and head out with no particular destination in mind. I just want to roll down the windows and feel the wind on my face while I crank the tunes to eleven.
Framingham, MA : April 20, 2018
A cup of joe and a slice of pie
I stab the fork into the slice of cherry pie, making sure to get some of the whip cream with it. It’s getting harder as the slice disappears because the waitress was stingy with the whipped cream. I got half the amount that Phil did. That’s not all. Phil’s cup is refilled before it is even half empty while I have to ask for more.
Either Phil is a valued a regular customer or the badge comes with perks because he gets the red carpet treatment. Whatever. The pie is damn good and the coffee, if not the greatest, is at least hot and strong. Phil’s paying so it’s all good.
Phil sat there eating his pie (he was on his second slice) and drinking his coffee (he was on his third cup) while listening to me rattle off my problems with Lila Sleater, Mak Cross, Scott, Daphne, and Sarah. It took a while but I reached the end of my story.
Now that you’ve let it all out, you wanna’ know what I think?
Sure, I can always use another opinion.
Wrong! You’ve been getting too many opinions already.
Huh?
You can’t please all the people all the time so stop trying. The only person you really have to please is yourself. Be who you want to be. If that ain’t good enough for your friends, then maybe they aren’t your friends.
Phil cuts right to the root of the problem. Ironic that the man who just said I should stop taking advice from others gave me the best pearl of wisdom I’ve heard in the past two months.
I should kick to the curb those friends who don’t like my choices?
I’m not trying to be an @ss, just tellin’ it to you straight. I deal with a lot of people and I know your type - a good person who does bad things because you tried to please the wrong people. Sometimes all it takes to get back on track is throw out the trash.
That’s harsh.
I got no problem being blunt.
Point taken.
Phil pauses to take another bite of pie, chewing slowly before washing it down with a swig of coffee.
You’re a good man Frank. You’ll figure it out.
Thanks Phil. For the pie and the talk.
You’re welcome. Now get your @ss home, at safe speeds, to Sarah. The next time I see you doing sixty-five you better be driving her to the hospital to deliver the baby.
You got it. No more speeding unless you’re giving me an escort to the hospital.
You can count on it. You call me when Sarah goes into labor and I’ll be there so fast your head will spin.
I take the last bite of my pie, drain what is left of my coffee, slip a fiver on the table to cover the tip, and leave. I don’t know if I’m gonna’ sleep any better tonight than I have any night since Back to Basics but at least I have something new to think about while I toss and turn.
Phil’s right about one thing: I will figure this out. I have to because if I don’t, I won’t be the International Champion much longer.
Philadelphia, PA : April 26, 2018 : The Riot on Broad Street
Ride the Lightning!
I want to tell you a story, Mak Cross.
I’ve had a lot on my mind lately between a pregnant fiancé and WFWF career that has taken a decidedly sharp left turn that has drawn many criticisms. I needed some alone time to clear my head so I went for a drive. I got so wrapped up in my thoughts that I didn’t notice how fast I was going. I got pulled over by the police. It was my first offense so I got off with a warning: “Don’t let it happen again.”
Thanks for the warning, officer. I’ll do better in the future.
That’s the story of my life right now. Everybody saw you beat me at New Day Rising. I can’t deny it nor can I hide from it. Now I have to face you again, this time for my International Championship. You earned it by beating me but at the same time I’m sure Lila is sitting in her office thinking that you will do what she couldn’t at New Day Rising - take me down a peg.
The problem that you and Lila face is that my loss at New Day Rising amounted to nothing more than a warning. I didn’t realize just how much a white leather strap with a gold plate on it could inspire someone to greater heights than they’ve ever reached before. When you pinned my shoulders to the mat for the 1-2-3 you made it abundantly clear that as International Champion I have a target on my back and have to be at the top of my game EVERY single match.
Thanks for the warning, Mak. I’ll do better in the future.
That brings us to our match at the Riot on Broad Street. You won’t be facing the same Frank Lynn. I now understand that you don’t care about beating Frank Lynn. You care about beating the International Champion. There’s a difference. Beating Frank Lynn doesn’t mean nearly as much as beating the International Champion and taking his title.
If you think facing the International Champion brought out the best in you, then you should know that the corollary is also true. Defending the Intentional Championship will bring out the best in me.
Lightning struck once. You got the pin… in a non-title match. Now that the title is on the line, lightning won’t be striking again. You can come to the ring flying a kite with a key tied to the string trying to attract lightning like a modern day Ben Franklin. It won’t help. You had your moment and now it is over.
As much as you want to take this title from me, I want to keep it even more. I’m no idiot. I’ve heard everything that has been said about how I took the title from David Brennan with cheap tactics and that I don’t deserve it.
Beating you will validate everything I’ve fought for since my debut against Mike Jette in a street fight two years ago. Beating you will make all those losses in my first year worth it: the time Drakz slammed me through the electrical equipment or LeeRoy Jenkins cost me the Golden Opportunity ladder match at SuperBrawl or the less than stellar showing I had in the Supreme Gauntlet. Beating you will shut up everyone who says I’m the next Dex, a paper champion who will fade away into obscurity just as quickly as he rose to the top.
Congratulations on your rapid rise to the status of contender. Enjoy it while you can because I’m going to make sure that’s as far as you get. When I beat Brennan, no matter how questionable the circumstances, I rose above contender to champion. That’s something you’ve never reached before and won’t be reaching now, not at my expense. One of us has to come out of this match as a pretender. My money is on you.
You’re my first test as International Champion. You won’t be the last. Bring your best Mak Cross because this time you will be facing a Frank Lynn who knows what it takes to be champion, not some starry eyed wannabe unsure of what he has gotten himself into. My eyes are wide open. I’m ready for you this time. You have no idea what kind of trouble you are in now.
I’m the one who will be riding the lightning at Riot on Broad Street. I will enter the Wells Fargo Center as the champion, beat your @ss to within an inch of your life, and walk out still the champion.
Don’t let your win go to your head. Trace Demon beat me once. Never managed it again. Ante Whitner beat me once in a one on one match. Never managed it again. Others like Lucas Crowe and Michael Kyzer couldn’t even beat me once. That’s because I am always getting better. The sky’s the limit for Frank Lynn and I haven’t come close to reaching the sky yet.
No matter what happened before, if you want this title you have to go through me one more time. It won’t end well for you.
I am the Lethal Weapon.
I am the International Champion.
I am going to kick your @ss.
Framingham, MA : April 20, 2018
What the hell is that damn noise? I can barely hear the Monster Magnet song “Spine of God” blaring out of my very expensive car stereo speakers.
Oh sh*t, it’s the cops, sirens blaring and lights flashing, chasing me while I speed along at least twenty miles over the limit completely oblivious. How long have they been trying to pull me over?
I have no idea.
Now that I have noticed, I better to stop and take my medicine. A speeding ticket shouldn’t take too big a bite out of my wallet. I turn off the stereo, slow down to five miles per hour below the limit, stick my arm out of the window, and point to hotel parking lot in the distance. Damn country roads don’t have shoulders so it’s the first safe place to pull over. The cop behind me gets the message, flashing his high beams twice, then turning off his siren. He leaves the lights on, I guess in case I forget he’s there and keep on driving.
I pull into the lot, the cop pulls in behind me. He does me a favor by turning off the lights before he gets out and makes the slow walk to my driver’s side window, waving his flashlight up and down my Impala, then inside the window checking the seats and floors. He won’t see anything interesting: I’m too anal retentive to let the car get messy so there are no empty bottles, cans, or even fast food wrappers laying around. Sorry officer, I’m not drunk, just careless.
Evenin’ Frank.
Well damn. It’s Sheriff Phil Lynott. If ever there was a modern day Andy Griffith, then Phil would be your man. Sure, he enforces the law but he much prefers the community outreach side of his job. A genuinely nice guy who would rather help people than lock them up and throw away the key. It’s a safe bet that as a kid he would stand around busy intersections waiting for little old ladies to come along so he could help them cross the street. He wouldn’t last two minutes on the Boston force but out here in the sticks he’s the perfect man for the job… which is why he’s won something like ten elections in a row.
A month or so after I moved to town, he came by the house to introduce himself. He was a wrestling fan so he knew who I was. We had a long chat where he asked a lot of questions trying to get a feel for the new local celebrity. I passed his inspection because by the end of his visit, he and I had worked out a deal for local kids, the ones in danger of becoming “problems” for their parents and the law, to come to my gym and work out with me while I tried to drop some of my so called adult wisdom on them.
Goin’ a little fast, weren’t you?
Guess so. I wasn’t paying attention, kinda’ lost in thought. Sorry, Phil.
Well, I don’t see any empties, you don’t smell of alcohol, and you don’t sound drunk.
No sir. I haven’t had a drink all day. Scout’s honor. I’m as sober as… well, whatever’s the most sober thing you can think of.
I’ll take your word for it… this time. You make a habit of speeding around at sixty-five inside the town limits and I’ll make you walk the line while reciting the alphabet backwards.
A joke I think, one that I bet only cops ever laugh at. Surely even an old school guy like Phil has a breathalyzer in his glove compartment. Anyway, I’m not laughing. We’re friends of a sort but I’m not pushing my luck with Johnny Law. Besides, I’m not entirely sure I can recite the alphabet backwards sober. Z, Y, X, W, U… no… V, then U… Damn that is not as easy as it sounds.
You want my driver’s license and registration?
Nah. It’s late and the roads are empty. I imagine you have a lot on your mind, what with that pretty girl of yours pregnant and the @ss kicking you took in the ring. I think a warning is good enough for a first time offense.
<switches to a very bad imitation of Roscoe P. Coltrane>
Don’t speed in mah town you whipper-snapper or else!
Another joke but this time we both laugh. Phil’s in a good mood. My lucky night.
Instead of driving around like a madman stewing in your troubles, how’s about we go over to Rosita’s? You can tell me what’s botherin’ you over a cup a joe and a slice of pie. My treat.
Sure thing, Phil. Why don’t you lead the way just to make sure I stay under the limit?
Heh. You’re smarter than you look, leadfoot.
WFWF Riot on Broad Street RP
Ride the Lightning
featuring Frank Lynn
“I feel the closest to crazy when I’m disagreeing with the voices in my head.” - Mira Grant
Boston, MA : April 14, 2018
Scott has no clue
When we first started this meeting some thirty minutes ago, I sat behind Abe’s desk and Scott sat in front of it. It didn’t take long for Scott’s nerves to get the better of him and he got up, then started pacing back and forth. He was wearing a hole in the rug and giving me a pain in my neck as I kept swiveling my head back and forth like a fan watching a tennis match at Wimbledon. If the meeting lasted much longer, he would have better cardio training for the day than me, something which weighed heavily on me since my loss to Mak Cross which was partially due to me running out of steam at the end.
Are you even listening Frank?
Of course I am. The revolution merch went on clearance after Back to Basics. After New Day Rising they gave up and shipped the remaining stock to needy people in Guatemala… or was it Panama? I lost my first match after my questionable title win. The fans hate me. The locker room hates me. Lila Sleater hates me. Things are bleak. It’s the end of the world. Did I forget anything?
Your revolution merch is worth less than a roll of toilet paper, Lila wants you gone from the WFWF, your title is in jeopardy, and you’re making jokes. Ha freakin’ ha.
I laugh so I won’t cry. But seriously, what do you suggest I do?
First off, please explain this destroyer stuff to me because I don’t get it. Maybe you were too busy losing to Mak Cross to notice but New Day Rising was a pretty good night for the kind of wrestling the revolution wanted. It’s not too late to rekindle the revolution.
Thanks for the reminder. New Day Rising would have been a great night for the revolution with all the clean matches and lack of ultra-bloody ultra-violence, excepting a last minute appearance by Kyzer and his pet dragon (which reminds me, I haven’t watched the latest season of Game of Thrones yet). Too bad it happened in spite of me, not because of me.
Honestly, there’s no turning the clock back and restarting the revolution, not that I even want to. As long as Lila is in charge, sh*t will continue to hit the fan. One good night won’t change that fact. It was an aberration, reality playing a nasty practical joke on me.
It IS too late. The revolution is dead and buried. There’ll be no change until Lila Sleater is gone.
That’s just great! You’re going to spend all your time and energy feuding with Lila. No wonder Mak Cross beat you.
Low blow you ungrateful bastard. I made you a pile of cash on the revolution merch and this is how you repay me? I bet you would love to drop me as a client and go sign Mak Cross. F*ck you!
Stop that noise. Get a grip on yourself.
I’m taking my frustration at losing to Mak out on Scott. Fact is, I underestimated Mak and I underestimated how much the International Championship would inspire him or any opponent to step their game up to the next level. I lost because Mak wanted it more than me. It won’t happen again. At least it won’t if I can get out of this meeting and get back to my training.
He won’t beat me again. My belt is on the line. So is any respect I have left. No way am I becoming the next Dex!
Well that’s good to hear. I don’t care how many times you put one over on Lila because that doesn’t sell sh*t. You need to win your matches. That’s what sells.
Relax. I’m done with Lila for a while now that she can’t fine, suspend, or fire me. Mak Cross has one hundred per cent of my attention.
I still don’t get this destroyer gimmick. I cannot market what I don’t understand. Please explain it to me.
I’m regretting ending my public statement with talk of destroying the WFWF so a new WFWF can be built. Hell, I’m regretting winning the title the way I did with the Golden Opportunity cash in. It seemed like a good idea at the time. So did becoming some kind of anti-authority vigilante. I’m not so sure now.
Even a blind man can see that it hasn’t worked out all that well. My first time out as “the destroyer” I got beat by a chronic underachiever with four years of ring rust and I pissed off Lila Sleater.
Now Lila has fired back by hiring an army of lawyers to go through my new contract with a fine tooth comb and by giving Cross a title shot. I’m not worried about the lawyers because I made sure the contract is locked down tight but Mak is a different story. He’ll be coming at me even harder this time. I’ll have to be at my absolute best to beat Mak Cross and retain my title. Any other plans will have to wait for the New York or Boston shows… if I’m still in a position to make a difference.
Damn, I wish I was half as confident as I sound in my promos. A disastrous day as GM and a loss has brought on a serious case of the “oh sh*ts”. No wonder Scott is worried.
I don’t know if I can. Things went sideways after Back to Basics. I’m still trying to get my sh*t together.
Let me know when you do because as of now I have no f*cking clue who you are.
Neither do I.
Can’t you slap my face on a shirt with the words “The Lethal Weapon”?
That might sell to the few fans who don’t want to lynch you but it doesn’t do squat for trying to get you endorsement deals.
Sorry, that’s all I've got for you now. Until I get my sh*t figured out I shouldn’t be worrying about any endorsements anyway.
Fine. I’ll sit in my office with my thumbs up my @ss until you figure it out. Do me a favor and do NOT lose the international Championship to Mak Cross.
I don’t plan to. We done? I need to get back to my training.
Scott nods yes, hastily shakes my hand, slams his briefcase shut, and practically storms out of the office shaking his head the entire time. I wish I had some answers for him. I don’t but as soon as I do, he’ll be one of the first to know.
Boston, MA : April 17, 2018
Daphne will do whatever it takes
Sweat is pouring off me like Niagara Falls in rainy season, all thanks to taskmaster Daphne who is acting like the bastard offspring of the drill sergeant from Full Metal Jacket and a physical trainer on a cocktail of cocaine and energy drinks. I know she can’t work out while her neck heals but damn it, does that mean I have to do enough training for two wrestlers?
Really, again?
Yes, you will do it again until you get it right.
We’ve spent the last hour on every possible move I can execute from the pump handle position. It’s getting silly. I cannot imagine a time when I will want to do a pump handle into a sling shot power bomb lung blower combo into a Boston Crab submission finisher.
Seriously, I can’t imagine it. It would be simpler to run my opponent over with my car.
Shut up and do it.
We’ve been at it for hours. I need a break.
Oh really! You need a break. Just like in your last match against Mak Cross? You had him beat but decided to take a break, sitting in the corner hoping Mak didn’t beat the count. It didn’t work. Mak got back in the ring and beat you.
Pump the breaks, Daph. I fought a hard match, damn near killed both of us when I clotheslined Mak off the top turnbuckle all the way to the floor.
No excuses! You gave up.
I did not give up!
Our shouting has drawn the attention of just about every single person in the Legacy gym. This is not a good look for either one of us. I need to set a good example for all these young guys, not look like someone cracking under the pressure of his first WFWF title.
I try to calm down but Daphne keeps on pushing. She is months away from knowing whether her doctors will clear her to wrestle again. It’s getting harder and harder to deal with her while she waits for a final verdict from her doctors.
You took your foot off the gas and it cost you the match. “The destroyer” had no killer instinct! If only I had been there…
You think you would’ve made a difference? You think I can only win when you’re at ringside?
If the shoe fits. Now get back to work. You’re not losing to that rat-faced bastard a second time, not with OUR belt on the line.
Our belt? I don’t like how much emphasis she put on the our. Made it sound a little too much like her belt. Let’s not forget who is the wrestler and who is the manager in this partnership.
You really don’t think I can beat Mak without you, don’t you?
Well, you couldn’t beat him when I wasn’t there. All that talk about being a destroyer and you were the one getting destroyed.
Ugh. I really, really, REALLY regret ever uttering the word “destroyer” out loud. It’s the right idea but I should have kept it to myself. Letting everyone know I want to tear Lila’s WFWF apart set me up for failure. It’s not like I can get Lila in the ring for a one on one match. She can’t touch me thanks to my contract but I can’t touch her thanks to her status as GM. Taking her down will require finesse and subtlety. Acting like a bull in a china shop worked against me when I didn’t back it up in the ring.
Look, about the destroyer stuff. It’s on the backburner. All I care about is a successful title defense. Without it I am nothing.
WE are nothing. I may never wrestle again. Your success could be my only chance at success. You will not lose. I won’t let you.
Whoa! I don’t like the sound of that.
What’s not to like? I’ve got your back and will do whatever it takes to make sure you stay International Champion.
Red alert! Don’t panic but it may be time to direct the women and children towards the lifeboats.
“Whatever it takes”? That’s not our deal. When I first asked you to be my manager I said I would never ask you to cheat for me and you said you never would. Now you say “whatever it takes” and I have to wonder if you’ve change your mind.
If you stop wasting time and get back to your training I won’t have to do anything… rash.
You’re starting to worry me. I think the sh*t show may have infected you. We play by the rules. NO CHEATING. If I can’t beat Mak Cross fair and square then I don’t deserve to be champion.
Daphne grabs my head and pulls me so close that our foreheads touch. The intense look in her eyes adds to my worries that Daphne is close to the edge.
I think I finally understand what Sarah sees in me when I go off on one of my tirades. No wonder she is even more opposed to “the destroyer” than she was to “the revolutionary”. This kind of intensity borders on fanaticism if not insanity.
Apparently none of this occurs to Daphne though as she whispers to me with a quiet aggressiveness that makes grown men piss their pants, kinda’ like Nolan’s Batman or Joker.
In that case, stop f*cking around. And. Get. Back. To. Work!
So back to work I go. I have to be better than Mak Cross. I have to be better than Brennan. I have to be better than everybody. It’s the only way to show that I am a worthy champion. And I have to remain a champion if I want any chance at taking Lila down.
We work on more variations on pump handle moves for another hour. After we run out of pump handle moves, it’s on to two hours of various moves from the fireman’s carry position.
Finally, as the sun sets outside, the sparring work comes to an end and it’s to the stationary bike for an hour of cardio. I will not run out of steam a second time. Cross is going to come at me harder than before with my title on the line. I have to come at him like a runaway freight train.
He won’t know what hit him.
Framingham, MA : April 20, 2018
Frank goes for a drive
Last night was yet another night of tossing and turning, what little sleep I got was filled with dreams I can’t remember but I’m sure they weren’t pleasant. It’s becoming the norm that I wake up feeling more tired than before I went to bed.
Sarah confirms it every morning over breakfast. Turns out I talk in my sleep. She likes to give me a daily update on whatever words and phrases she could make out in between jokes about how she is the one who is supposed to have problems sleeping due to the pregnancy, not me.
By the end of the day, our conversations shift from sleep, or lack thereof, to the WFWF. Sarah was never enthusiastic about the revolution. She’s even less enthusiastic about “the destroyer”. It’s the same argument as before though: stop trying to be my brothers’ keeper.
She’s been chipping away at me for almost a year and I have to admit, it’s starting to work. When the revolution fell flat on its face at Back to Basics, I felt like I let the whole damn world down. I had to do something to make a difference. If I couldn’t save the WFWF I would destroy it.
Now I’m wondering two things: is it possible and if it is, am I the man to do it? I don’t know about the former yet but as for the latter, my loss to Mak Cross has me thinking I’m not the man for the job.
Can’t you just try it for a show or two? You don’t need a cause to fight for. It’s okay to fight for yourself without it having to be an epic battle for some greater good.
I’ll admit it. You’re right. I went overboard with the destroyer stuff and the revolution before it. All I want now is to beat Mak Cross and put a seal of approval on my International Championship.
That’s still a bit of a cause for you. I’ve seen enough of the WFWF to know that controversy surrounds every title. Did Drakz, the so called greatest champion in WFWF history, have a single successful title match that wasn’t controversial?
I don’t even have to think about it. It’s not just Drakz’ title reign either. The WFWF titles are always surrounded by controversy no matter who is the current champion, which was a major motivation for the revolution in the first place.
Not that I remember.
Exactly. You played the game according to the standards of the WFWF and came out on top. You don’t need anyone’s validation. You are the International Champion. Don’t let the petty comments from small-minded people make you feel guilty.
I could try to explain to Sarah that the respect of the fans and the other wrestlers means as much to me as being a champion but lack of sleep combined with Daphne’s arduous training has me worn out so much I don’t feel like it. Honestly, all I want right now is a good night’s sleep. Just one night where I can get eight hours of rest without the tossing, turning, and waking up at 3 a.m. from a disturbing dream I can’t remember.
I don’t want to talk about it any more tonight. I think I’ll go for a drive if you don’t mind.
You’re a grown man. You don’t have to ask me for permission.
She doesn’t sound mad but after my recent dealings with Scott and Daphne I’m not ready to risk pissing her off too. It would be nice to have at least one person solidly on my side.
I’m sorry. It’s not you. It’s me. I need some alone time to clear my head.
It’s okay. I’ll be here when you get back. I’ll always be here for you.
Thanks babe. Love you.
Right back at ya’.
I give her a hug, a peck on the cheek, and rub her abdomen. I do that a lot now hoping to feel the baby kick. I’m amazed at how one little kick can temporarily take away all my worries.
No kick tonight. *sigh* I’ll have to find some other means of escape.
I hop in the Impala and head out with no particular destination in mind. I just want to roll down the windows and feel the wind on my face while I crank the tunes to eleven.
Framingham, MA : April 20, 2018
A cup of joe and a slice of pie
I stab the fork into the slice of cherry pie, making sure to get some of the whip cream with it. It’s getting harder as the slice disappears because the waitress was stingy with the whipped cream. I got half the amount that Phil did. That’s not all. Phil’s cup is refilled before it is even half empty while I have to ask for more.
Either Phil is a valued a regular customer or the badge comes with perks because he gets the red carpet treatment. Whatever. The pie is damn good and the coffee, if not the greatest, is at least hot and strong. Phil’s paying so it’s all good.
Phil sat there eating his pie (he was on his second slice) and drinking his coffee (he was on his third cup) while listening to me rattle off my problems with Lila Sleater, Mak Cross, Scott, Daphne, and Sarah. It took a while but I reached the end of my story.
Now that you’ve let it all out, you wanna’ know what I think?
Sure, I can always use another opinion.
Wrong! You’ve been getting too many opinions already.
Huh?
You can’t please all the people all the time so stop trying. The only person you really have to please is yourself. Be who you want to be. If that ain’t good enough for your friends, then maybe they aren’t your friends.
Phil cuts right to the root of the problem. Ironic that the man who just said I should stop taking advice from others gave me the best pearl of wisdom I’ve heard in the past two months.
I should kick to the curb those friends who don’t like my choices?
I’m not trying to be an @ss, just tellin’ it to you straight. I deal with a lot of people and I know your type - a good person who does bad things because you tried to please the wrong people. Sometimes all it takes to get back on track is throw out the trash.
That’s harsh.
I got no problem being blunt.
Point taken.
Phil pauses to take another bite of pie, chewing slowly before washing it down with a swig of coffee.
You’re a good man Frank. You’ll figure it out.
Thanks Phil. For the pie and the talk.
You’re welcome. Now get your @ss home, at safe speeds, to Sarah. The next time I see you doing sixty-five you better be driving her to the hospital to deliver the baby.
You got it. No more speeding unless you’re giving me an escort to the hospital.
You can count on it. You call me when Sarah goes into labor and I’ll be there so fast your head will spin.
I take the last bite of my pie, drain what is left of my coffee, slip a fiver on the table to cover the tip, and leave. I don’t know if I’m gonna’ sleep any better tonight than I have any night since Back to Basics but at least I have something new to think about while I toss and turn.
Phil’s right about one thing: I will figure this out. I have to because if I don’t, I won’t be the International Champion much longer.
Philadelphia, PA : April 26, 2018 : The Riot on Broad Street
Ride the Lightning!
I want to tell you a story, Mak Cross.
I’ve had a lot on my mind lately between a pregnant fiancé and WFWF career that has taken a decidedly sharp left turn that has drawn many criticisms. I needed some alone time to clear my head so I went for a drive. I got so wrapped up in my thoughts that I didn’t notice how fast I was going. I got pulled over by the police. It was my first offense so I got off with a warning: “Don’t let it happen again.”
Thanks for the warning, officer. I’ll do better in the future.
That’s the story of my life right now. Everybody saw you beat me at New Day Rising. I can’t deny it nor can I hide from it. Now I have to face you again, this time for my International Championship. You earned it by beating me but at the same time I’m sure Lila is sitting in her office thinking that you will do what she couldn’t at New Day Rising - take me down a peg.
The problem that you and Lila face is that my loss at New Day Rising amounted to nothing more than a warning. I didn’t realize just how much a white leather strap with a gold plate on it could inspire someone to greater heights than they’ve ever reached before. When you pinned my shoulders to the mat for the 1-2-3 you made it abundantly clear that as International Champion I have a target on my back and have to be at the top of my game EVERY single match.
Thanks for the warning, Mak. I’ll do better in the future.
That brings us to our match at the Riot on Broad Street. You won’t be facing the same Frank Lynn. I now understand that you don’t care about beating Frank Lynn. You care about beating the International Champion. There’s a difference. Beating Frank Lynn doesn’t mean nearly as much as beating the International Champion and taking his title.
If you think facing the International Champion brought out the best in you, then you should know that the corollary is also true. Defending the Intentional Championship will bring out the best in me.
Lightning struck once. You got the pin… in a non-title match. Now that the title is on the line, lightning won’t be striking again. You can come to the ring flying a kite with a key tied to the string trying to attract lightning like a modern day Ben Franklin. It won’t help. You had your moment and now it is over.
As much as you want to take this title from me, I want to keep it even more. I’m no idiot. I’ve heard everything that has been said about how I took the title from David Brennan with cheap tactics and that I don’t deserve it.
Beating you will validate everything I’ve fought for since my debut against Mike Jette in a street fight two years ago. Beating you will make all those losses in my first year worth it: the time Drakz slammed me through the electrical equipment or LeeRoy Jenkins cost me the Golden Opportunity ladder match at SuperBrawl or the less than stellar showing I had in the Supreme Gauntlet. Beating you will shut up everyone who says I’m the next Dex, a paper champion who will fade away into obscurity just as quickly as he rose to the top.
Congratulations on your rapid rise to the status of contender. Enjoy it while you can because I’m going to make sure that’s as far as you get. When I beat Brennan, no matter how questionable the circumstances, I rose above contender to champion. That’s something you’ve never reached before and won’t be reaching now, not at my expense. One of us has to come out of this match as a pretender. My money is on you.
You’re my first test as International Champion. You won’t be the last. Bring your best Mak Cross because this time you will be facing a Frank Lynn who knows what it takes to be champion, not some starry eyed wannabe unsure of what he has gotten himself into. My eyes are wide open. I’m ready for you this time. You have no idea what kind of trouble you are in now.
I’m the one who will be riding the lightning at Riot on Broad Street. I will enter the Wells Fargo Center as the champion, beat your @ss to within an inch of your life, and walk out still the champion.
Don’t let your win go to your head. Trace Demon beat me once. Never managed it again. Ante Whitner beat me once in a one on one match. Never managed it again. Others like Lucas Crowe and Michael Kyzer couldn’t even beat me once. That’s because I am always getting better. The sky’s the limit for Frank Lynn and I haven’t come close to reaching the sky yet.
No matter what happened before, if you want this title you have to go through me one more time. It won’t end well for you.
I am the Lethal Weapon.
I am the International Champion.
I am going to kick your @ss.
I dont know good luck