Post by King Richius on Mar 19, 2019 8:11:35 GMT -5
Prologue: The REAL Constant
So the high and mighty Drakz wants to call himself the Constant of the WFWF.
I think he’s taken a few too many blows to the head and his brain has been permanently damaged.
Look at the facts.
In the past three years, Drakz has indeed been the World Champion three times. But he’s also been MIA for what… twelve… eighteen months? I don’t know exactly how long he was absent but it was a f***ing long time. How can you be the Constant when you haven’t even been around for more than half of the past three years?
When Drakz returned, calling himself Mr. 851 because of his record breaking title reign, he barely held on to the title for a hundred days. He lost it to Penny Shannon the very first time he had to defend it. His reign would have been even shorter had his match against Tugarin Zmey been for the title. That’s two losses since his allegedly triumphant return.
Drakz isn’t swinging nearly as big a dick as he likes to think. Maybe he should get some Viagra.
It all adds up to one simple conclusion.
Drakz isn’t the Constant of the WFWF anymore!
If not Drakz, then who?
David Brennan could have made a case to being the Constant. He was THE dominant force in the WFWF for over two years, the ONLY man to hold EVERY belt at once.
I admit it, I’ve never been particularly fond of the man but you have to respect his achievements. He was the Constant… until he lost the World Championship and disappeared into the night to become the subject of dirt sheet rumors that he is getting fat drinking beers at a beachside bar in Borneo or dead at the bottom of the North Atlantic Ocean or raising ostriches in the Australian outback.
So it’s not David F’n Brennan.
Several others could have been the Constant: Joshua Dean, Joe Bishop, Michael Kyzer, and Trace Demon.
Too bad they’re all gone now too. Some to injury, some to retirement but the end result is the same.
They’re not the constant.
Who does that leave?
Ante Whitner?
Don’t make me laugh! Ante had his moment of glory at SuperBrawl IX and it’s been all downhill since then, several of his major losses coming at the hands of yours truly with another to come soon at SuperBrawl X.
Mesh?
Despite all her success against anybody who isn’t me, she still has that new car smell. Maybe if she sticks around and gets a little dirty she could be the Constant but not yet.
Tyler Draven?
Do something other than attack your mentor from behind with a barbwire baseball bat first. Kissing the boss’s @ss for a job doesn’t count.
Is there anybody left who has a valid claim to being the Constant of the WFWF?
Anybody?
Think long and hard.
I’m sure someone will come to mind.
…
Hello!
I’m standing right in f***ing front of you.
That’s right.
Me.
Frank Lynn.
The Lethal Weapon.
The Fighting Champion.
The 2016 Rookie of the Year.
The International Champion.
Over the past three years I have always been here. I’ve had more matches than anybody else - over thirty. I’ve had more wins than anybody else - over twenty. I’ve been the International Champion for a year. The longest current reigning champion by a long shot and the third longest reigning International Champion in WFWF history.
I don’t always win but I always show and put up a damn good fight. Nobody gets a free ride when they’re facing me. They’re in for a fight. If my opponent makes even the slightest slip, even the great ones, then I’m going to put them to sleep. Just ask Trace Demon or Kyzer.
Fact is, I’ve put more into this company than any other son of a bitch to walk through those doors in the past three years. Mock me if you want but I put in the effort that nobody else can compare to, both in quantity and quality. The truly scary part is there’s still room for improvement and I’m getting better every time out.
I am the man who shows up come hell or high water and reminds everybody what the WFWF is really about: in ring competition featuring world class combat sports athletes.
There is no denying it.
I am the beating heart of the WFWF.
I am the fighting spirit of the WFWF.
I am the bright future of the WFWF.
I am the REAL Constant of the WFWF.
Suck on that Drakz!
I’m gonna’ win Lila’s little round robin gauntlet and get a shot at the World Champion!
Because I AM THE MOTHER F***ING CONSTANT OF THE WFWF!
Not Drakz.
Do you hear that ringing sound? It’s a bell. It’s tolling for you, Drakz.
Take a look to the sky just before you die
It is the last time you will
Blackened roar massive roar fills the crumbling sky
Shattered goal fills his soul with a ruthless cry
Stranger now, are his eyes, to this mystery
He hears the silence so loud
Crack of dawn, all is gone except the will to be
Now they see what will be, blinded eyes to see
For whom the bell tolls
Time marches on
For whom the bell tolls
WFWF Sin City Showdown RP
WWDFNBD
featuring Frank Lynn
“Nothing behind me, everything ahead of me, as is ever so on the road.” - Jack Kerouac
Somewhere between Massachusetts and Maine : March 15, 2019
Road Trip, part 1
It’s going to be a long drive but I need it. The isolation of the road will give me time to think, to reflect, and to plan.
I have two anniversaries coming up: three years in the WFWF and one year as International Champion. It’s a good start but I want more… a lot more! I didn’t come to the WFWF to be one of the guys. I want to stand out… stand above… join the ranks of the icons and legends who are mentioned years after they depart.
Lila’s gauntlet is my chance to take the next step towards becoming an icon of the WFWF. I want this. I want it so bad I can’t even put it into words. Best I can come up with is that every nerve in my body is tingling in anticipation, every muscle twitching as I get closer to facing off against Mesh, Draven, and Zmey.
F***ing Tugarin Zmey.
My butt clenches at the thought of another match with him. He’s not just a monster. He’s a brick wall I have to blast through if I’m going to take the next step.
After our first match, I’m not sure I can do it. I came in like a wrecking ball and he wre-eh-ecked me. Damn the radio for playing Miley Cyrus.
I feel like the wall may be too much for me. The losses to Zmey and Drakz weigh heavily on me, casting doubts as to how high I can really go.
I’ve let too many opportunities slip through my grasp. The brass ring is a slippery devil.
I have questions. I need answers.
Shooting Star
Welcome to the big time Mesh.
Not many of us can claim to have such an impressive record in our rookie year nor could we call ourselves a champion less than year into our careers.
Let’s not forget the 2018 Rookie of the Year award. Welcome to the club.
You have earned the right to be part of Lila’s gauntlet.
You’re a shooting star streaking across the clear night sky. Everybody is looking up at you making wishes that you have continued success and that you keep rising through the ranks of the WFWF. I have faith that you will one day grant all those wishes and do great things.
You have impressed me.
This is where the compliments stop.
You might think that this gauntlet is another stop on your express ride to the top. Another box to check off your bucket list of WFWF achievements.
It’s not.
Because I am also in this gauntlet.
I’ve spent the last three years working my @ss off, slowly scratching and clawing my way ever so closer to the likes of Demon, Brennan, Kyzer, and Drakz.
I’m ready for this opportunity. I’m ready to go after AND beat the World Champ.
I don’t think you’re ready for the moment. Its too big for you. It’s a black hole that is going to swallow up the shooting star.
We’re friends but as I’ve said before, when the bell rings I don’t have friends. I have opponents who are standing in the way of what I want. I have enemies that I must vanquish.
My hunger to win the gauntlet, to win the World Title, to be one of the truly great WFWF superstars is a ravenous beast that you simply cannot beat.
Forget Tyler Draven.
Forget Tugarin Zmey.
Remember Frank Lynn.
That’s the name of the man who is going to halt your meteoric rise. Again. Like I did last year when I handed you your first and only loss.
Things have changed since our last match. I’m better than I was then. That’s what drives people crazy about me. I’m always getting better. You can’t look at what I did six months ago and say “I can beat him” because you won’t be getting Frank Lynn from six months ago. You’ll be facing the Frank Lynn of today who has improved dramatically from six months ago.
I am the one who is going pluck the shooting star out of the sky, bring it crashing down to Earth, and make you realize that as far as you’ve come you still have a long way to go before you’re anywhere close to my level.
You may ask why. Because I have the confidence that comes from having been in the ring with virtually everybody in the WFWF and holding my own with each and every one of them, coming out of it victorious more often than not. You, on the other hand, are still in the honeymooon stage where just being here is enough to make you happy.
We might as well be two siblings with one slice of pizza left in front of us. You’d ask if it was okay for you to eat it. I’d just reach out and take the damn slice because I wanted it and I know you won’t stop me.
Until you’re willing to unapologetically take the last slice, you won’t get past me or Draven or Zmey.
My heart is pulling for you to do well but my head is ready to crush your dreams.
Only one of us will win the gauntlet. I’m sorry but it won’t be you.
I’m not letting another brass ring slip through my fingers.
I’m going to win it all.
As it was with Billy Broom, I hope we can still be friends when it’s over.
Bar Harbor, Maine : March 15, 2019
Road Trip, part 2
My road trip has brought me to a gated estate in Bar Harbor, Maine. The engine purrs as I contemplate whether I should ring the bell or not. I came this far. I should finish what I started, right?
Why Bar Harbor, Maine? That’s an easy one. This is where David F’n Brennan lives.
Why am I sitting outside David Brennan’s estate in my ’67 Impala wondering if he will invite me in for a pleasant conversation and maybe some tea and crumpets? That’s a bit harder to answer.
Things have gotten complicated in the WFWF. Drakz may be the champ but he is vulnerable. A veritable army of contenders is coming out of the woodwork. Shannon, Zmey, and Kyzer (if he isn’t as retired as he would have us believe) are all standing outside Drakz’ door, threatening to kick it down. I want to be counted amongst the contenders but Drakz has my number so far. I could use some words of wisdom from a voice of experience - Brennan’s voice in particular.
No, I haven’t gone completely off my rocker. That’s what I’ve been telling myself for the past three hours.
Brennan is the man I kneed in his broken face to take away his International Championship. Believe me, I know! It’s been hard getting to sleep at night as I wonder if I really deserve the title I’ve held for a year.
Brennan is a surly bastard who doesn’t like or respect most people. He certainly never had a good word to say about me.
Brennan has completely removed himself from the public world after losing his title to Drakz. All signs point to him wanting nothing to do with the WFWF ever again.
Everything adds up to David seeing me at the gate, extending a certain finger that doesn’t mean he thinks I’m number one, and slamming his door in my face.
If that’s the case, then why the hell am I here?
I’m trying to climb the ladder in the WFWF. I’ve reached a glass ceiling that I can’t break through.
The glass ceiling has a name, two names in fact: Tugarin Zmey and Drakz.
Oh I can talk tough in my promos but some of it is bluster to keep up my public image. Until I actually beat them in the ring I’m full of sh*t.
I’m confident but not to the point of being so cocky I can’t recognize my shortcomings and seek help to fix them. I guess I’m growing up because that’s not something I would have admitted to myself a year or two ago. I’m smart enough now to know I’m missing something.
Give me enough time and I’ll figure it out for myself but I’m impatient. A more experienced hand can tell me what I’m missing and how to find it right now. Then I can truly reach the top of the mountain and become the man in the WFWF, something more than a steady hand and gatekeeper separating curtain jerkers from main eventers.
Nobody remembers the gatekeepers. Everybody remembers the World Heavyweight Champions.
David f’n Brennan certainly wasn’t my first choice.
I thought about calling Joe Bishop. Decided against it because after Joe’s speech at the awards show I think he HAS gone off his rocker. From righteous crusader to arrogant douchebag. Good job Joe. Is everybody from England a prick or just the professional wrestlers? I doubt he would even take my call and I doubt even more that I would like anything he has to say to me.
I thought about calling Joshua Dean. Decided against it because he’s probably with Penny. They had so much in common before and now have one more thing to add to the list: Drakz made sure each of their title reigns lasted about as long as a cup of coffee. Josh deals with Penny directly on an almost daily basis. They’re good friends and trusted colleagues. Josh sends his minion Scott to deal with me. I rarely hear from Josh. So yeah, I’m not going to bother Josh with my problems when I’m pretty sure he’s busy consoling poor Penny Shannon after her heartbreaking loss.
And so I came to David Brennan.
It’s not as crazy as it sounds.
He doesn’t get as much credit as he should, not from me or anybody else. Once he got off the sauce, he became a good guy… or at the very least not quite a bad guy anymore. He was winning his matches on the up and up, no more breaking empty beer bottles over some unlucky bastard’s head. For all his tough talk, he took great pride in being a champion, the sign of someone who values competition over everything else.
Sound like anybody you know?
We have the Boston connection too. He might not see it as he was all about the South Side while I was from the wrong side of the river but we both bleed true Boston blood. That has to be worth something.
That’s not the biggest reason I think Brennan might talk to me. I’ve got my eyes on two big fish that he let get away: Tugarin Zmey and Drakz. Maybe, just maybe, he’s more angry at them than he ever was at me and wouldn’t mind telling me a few secrets so I could exact a little revenge for him.
Maybe…
I feel like a nervous kid rehearsing to ask a girl out for the first time, playing the scene out in my head so I get everything just right.
Persistence
Here we go again, eh Tyler?
I have to give it to you, you are one persistent mother f***er.
You’ve lucked into yet another opportunity to go after a WFWF title. I bet you’re real happy with yourself right now. You already have a shot at MY title in our ladder match at SuperBrawl. Now you have a chance to lock down a shot at the World Heavyweight Championship too. All you have to do is beat Mesh, Tugarin Zmey, and me in the same night.
That’s freakin’ ambitious, ‘specially for a cocky little bastard like you.
I was a lot like you when I first arrived in the WFWF. I mean, I didn’t put anybody in a coma to get my job but other than that we have much in common.
I was hungry too when I was a rookie. Two months into my WFWF career I was calling out the big dogs: Drakz and Joshua Dean. Along with my Thunderbird partner Mike Jette, I was intent on getting a title around my waist as fast as humanly possible. I had no doubt I could take down two giants of the business. I was a cocky son of a b*tch.
I learned the hard way that titles don’t come that easy.
Drakz and Josh beat our asses from pillar to post. Then it was Ante Whitner’s turn to deny me the Golden Opportunity… twice. The Supreme Gauntlet tournament didn’t go quite so well either. I had my best chance in the International Gauntlet match but even that ended badly thanks to that @sshole Phillip Schneider.
(Where are you Obo? I’m still waiting for you to show your ugly face at a WFWF show.)
It took two years, a lot of hard work, and few lucky breaks to go my way before I finally got my taste of gold.
I see that same hunger in you.
Too bad for you that I’m now the big dog standing in your way, ready to play the role of spoiler to make sure you don’t get what you want.
Take my advice. You’ve set your sites too high.
You should be aiming for the Vanguard Championship. Mesh vs Tyler Draven would be a damn close match. You might beat her and get that title you covet so much.
Draven vs Lynn for the International Championship? That’s not going to go so well for you. I’ve beat you before. I’ll beat you again. Maybe one day you’ll be real competition for me but right now, not so much. You’re just a brash rookie in need of another @ss kicking.
As for Draven vs Drakz for the World Heavyweight Championship? Not a snowballs chance in f***ing hell. Drakz would eat you alive and use your bones as a toothpick.
Know your place rookie!
There’s no way you’re winning the gauntlet. Not when you’re up against Mesh, Zmey, and me. One, two, or all three of us are going beat you.
You’re not that good. Your reach exceeds your grasp. You have to set more realistic goals.
I suggest you start with surviving your matches at Arizona Sunshine.
Mesh may be your best chance at a win because you are both rookies in way over your heads but my money is on the blue haired pixie. There’s a reason why she was the rookie of the year and not you.
I’m going to put you to sleep. You’ll lose but live to fight another day.
Tugarin Zmey may break you in half. You’ll lose and probably end up in the hospital. Maybe you can share a room with Trace Demon and wax nostalgic about your in ring executions. Won’t that be fun?
I’ll see you in Phoenix, Tyler.
If you’re as good as you think you are, I’ll see you at SuperBrawl X in Dallas.
If you’re as good as I think you are, the ladder match will be a one on one contest between me and Ante Whitner.
Bar Harbor, Maine : March 15, 2019
Road Trip, part 3
I’m not sure how long I’ve been sitting here, running through scenarios in my head. Long enough for the sun to move a good way through the afternoon sky.
Brennan’s estate is impressive. Gated entrance. Manicured lawn. A mansion set well back from the gate. Add in his private jet and you know he didn’t get all of this from his WFWF earnings. I know who his father was. This doesn’t bode well for the “crime doesn’t pay” meme.
Am I going to do it? I don’t even know if he is home, although I think I saw someone pulling a curtain aside to glance in my direction. Even if he is home, will he let me in long enough to speak my piece?
Let me run through it one more time before I try for real.
I set the scene in my head. Ring the bell. Get asked who is it. Tell him. Silence. Slowly, the gate opens. Make my way down the driveway. Get out of the car. Take a deep breath before I walk to the porch aka the lion’s den. The door opens. It’s him in all his tattooed glory. He looks like he’s been keeping himself in shape.
Hello David.
That’s Brennan to you. What the f*** do you want?
Same old Brennan. Nothing’s changed since his retirement. Take no sh*t. Take no prisoners. He stares at me with those stone cold eyes of his. A lesser man would turn away but I stare right back.
I came here to talk. That’s all.
Piss off.
I expected that. It’s not like I’m an old friend come to visit with a six pack in hand (Damn it, I should have picked up some beers to soften him up). I f***ed him over in the WFWF. Not sure what is keeping him from kicking my @ss right now. Maybe he’s mellowed now that he’s out of the game?
Please, hear me out.
No. You hard of hearing? I only let you get this far so I could see your face when I tell you to f*** off.
Charming. Expected. Now to eat some humble pie. It’s my only chance to win him over.
I’m sorry. Sincerely. I took advantage of you at Back to Basics, stole your title by kneeing you in the face after you were already down. It was wrong.
Goddamnit, you can’t take a hint. Well f*** it. Might be fun to watch the great Frank Lynn grovel at my feet. You wanna’ talk, I’ll listen.
Maybe wishful thinking on my part, maybe not. He did adopt an kid who tried to kick his @ss. Brennan could have a heart underneath his gruff exterior. This only works if he does so I roll with it.
Thank you.
Awkward pause. Somebody say something! An impatient Brennan starts pacing back and forth.
I didn’t say I’d talk back. Speak your piece before I kick your @ss all the way back to Boston.
For starters, like I said, I’m sorry for how I took the International Championship from you. If you ever come back you have an open offer for a proper match. We can find out if I really deserve the title or not.
I can see his muscles flexing underneath his t-shirt, veins popping on his neck, a scowl forming on his face.
Damn it Franky, that was the only thing you ever did that I understood.
It was actually Daphne’s idea. I got caught up in the moment.
Well she’s a sh*tload smarter than you.
For someone who wasn’t going to talk he’s sure saying a lot. This is going as well as could be expected. Sure he’s insulting me every chance he gets but at least he’s not punching me in the face.
You’ll get no argument from me.
Is that all you wanted to say? My beer’s gettin’ warm.
No, the apology was just to get my foot in the door. I wouldn’t waste the time and gas to drive all this way just to say “I’m sorry” and offer a match. I want something from Brennan. I hope he’s in a giving mood. I try to come off as non-aggressive as I can, taking a seat in the swinging bench.
No. I need some advice.
And you came to me? HA HA HA HA You’re a special kind of stupid.
Well at least I made him laugh. Laughter puts people in good moods. This could work in my favor. At the very least, he’s stopped flexing and the veins in his neck aren’t quite so prominent.
I had that same thought many times on the drive here but I’m at my wit’s end. I thought you would say no but hoped I could change your mind if we were face to face.
Doubtful. My patience is running out. Talk faster or start walking.
Now for the final piece of bait. Either I reel him in or I leave empty-handed.
I want to beat Zmey and Drakz. I have to beat them. You know how. I think you’ll tell me how because you owe both of them a receipt.
That’s it? Revenge by proxy? Lissen’ closely ‘cuz I’m only saying this once. I’m done with the WFWF. Moved on to other sh*t. Or I died in a plane crash in the Atlantic Ocean while returning from my adventures around the world with A-wut. Believe what you want. Only thing that matters is I’m done with it all.
Methinks the lady doth protest too much. Thanks Shakespeare, I’ll take it from here.
Really? You’ve slammed the door shut on that part of your life. No regrets? Nothing you’d do different?
I had a good run. I was the king of the mother f***ing hill. Not many can say that.
Brennan is not the pride goeth before the fall kinda’ man. I refuse to believe he can just give it all up without a few regrets and some unfinished business. That’s what I’m counting on. I lean forward and give him a long hard stare before speaking again.
So you don’t care that the last thing people will remember of David f’n Brennan is that Drakz left you laying in the middle of the ring staring at the sky? Or that Tugarin Zmey made a habit out of leaving you for dead outside arenas all over the world? The Bobby Orr statue still has a pink tint from your blood.
I have no idea if the statue is pink or not. It’s something extra I added to hit him where it hurts - his Boston pride. I have it too so I know you don’t f*ck with our sports heroes. Somebody pisses on the parquet at the Garden, they’re gonna’ pay.
Careful boy or I might take it out on you, bein’ as you’re here in my face wasting my time and pissin’ me off.
See, you do care. Let me be your weapon. Tell me how to beat guys like Zmey and Drakz.
Dammit, if that’s what it takes to get you off my porch, fine.
YES! He took the bait and I reeled him in, giving him the time and space to work up to it without losing face in front of me. He takes a seat in a chair facing me, arms stretched out resting on the back of the chair.
First things first, never apologize. You did what you had to and it made you a champion. It was a bitch move for sure. Not the worst I’ve seen though. The name Dex ring a bell?
Noted. Never apologize.
At this point, the less I say the better. Brennan is on a roll and even if I don’t agree with everything he says, I want to hear it. If I butt in and try to argue he might stop. Can’t have that. There has to be a diamond or two amongst all the lumps of coal.
As for the rest, stop worrying about what anybody else thinks. The fans don’t know sh*t. Every other wrestler in the f***ing locker room is lying to you, particularly the ones that pretend to be your friend. Lila doesn’t give a f***, she’s all about the money.
Scott… that’s my agent from Championship Connections… he says fan support is important. Gotta’ move merch.
F*** him. I sold a sh*t ton of “Db F’n WF” t-shirts because I was the champ. I didn’t give a damn about winning over the fans. I was the champ. That was enough.
True.
Sucks that I never got any royalties. I came up with “DB F’N WF” after all. Not even a thank you from Brennan or the suits in marketing.
You wanna’ beat Zmey and Drakz? You’re gonna’ have to forget about your causes and crusades. Fight for yourself ‘cuz you’re a bad@ss.
Brennan laughs at his own words. It’s the worst insult he’s made so far. Why did I come to this man for advice? Am I a special kind of stupid?
No way I was sayin’ that with a straight face. Point is, they’re just like anybody else. You stick a foot in their @ss, they’re goin’ down.
I’m a bad@ss, eh?
Brennan laughs again, longer and louder. You can stop laughing any time now. You’re not the only one who can throw down at a moment’s notice and you’re starting to piss me off.
Still can’t keep a straight face. But you get my point, right? If you fight to win and don’t care about keeping up appearances for the sake of some dumbass cause or the adulation of the fans, you’ll get the job done.
Please don’t let that be all the wisdom Brennan has to share. I need more than “be a condescending prick who only cares about himself”.
That’s it?
Hit first. Hit harder. Hit faster. That’s all I got for ya’. Now get your @ss back in that hotrod and go the f*** away. No tellin’ what A-wut’ll do if he sees you.
He stands up abruptly, his expression and crossed arms leaving no doubt. We’re done. I get up, almost try to shake his hand but think the better of it before I walk back to the Impala. As I get to the car Brennan calls out to me.
Hey Franky. If you do get the chance, be sure to get a few licks in for Uncle Davey. Bastards deserve a good sized mud hole stomped in ‘em.
I laugh at myself for coming up with that. No way Brennan says any of it, particularly the “Uncle Davey” part. HA! Wishful thinking on my part at its best and dumbest. More likely he went inside and slammed the door as soon as I started walking away.
It’s a helluva fantasy. The more I think about it, the more I realize that it won’t go down any way remotely like it. I’ve been a fool to come here.
What will actually happen?
I ring the bell. If I get any response at all, it will be “Who is it?” I’ll answer “Frank Lynn to see David Brennan.” Then one of two things happens.
Absolutely nothing, no reply, no gate opening, just a silent warning to leave.
Or the door of the house opens, Brennan steps out, flips me off, and goes back inside.
God this was a stupid idea. What was I thinking? Am I so desperate to beat Zmey and Drakz that I actually believed I could go to Brennan for help?
I really am a special kind of stupid. I should trade the Impala for a yellow shortbus.
What would David F’n Brennan do?
Who the hell cares?
What will Frank Lynn do?
That’s the question I should be asking.
I don’t have to crawl to the likes of David f’n Brennan to get an answer.
I have the support of people who have my back: Daphne, Sarah, Abe, Scott. Possibly Josh. Probably Josh. And Mesh. Because she’s so damn nice and if you’re nice to her she would take a bullet for you.
I send a short text to Sarah letting her know I’m on my way home. She replies with a pic of Laura asleep in her crib while Doctor Claw watches over her protectively and “Hurry back. We miss you.”
I fire up the engine, enjoy the purr of the finely tuned engine for a minute, and then peel out leaving the house of Brennan in the rear view mirror.
I will say this, “hit first, hit harder, hit faster” is some pretty damn good advice. Not advice I needed to go to Davey boy to get though. It’s common sense. It’s easy to make things more complicated than they have to be. Nice to have somebody hit you over the head with the obvious every once in a while so you don’t forget.
Thanks for the chat David. Enjoy your retirement you rotten bastard.
Fear is a Good Thing
Tugarin Zmey.
The Dragon.
I was afraid of you once. Then I let myself get talked out of my fear by others who didn’t have to step in the ring with you.
That wasn’t very smart on my part.
You destroyed me, as everybody expected when the match was announced. The seven foot four hundred pound monster who beat Drakz would make easy work of Frank Lynn. And that is exactly what you did.
With a little help from Tyler Draven and Ante Whitner.
Not that I think you needed any help.
You had my number. There was no way I was going to beat you that night.
All because I didn’t fear you.
Fear isn’t a bad thing. Fear is what keeps us from doing stupid sh*t. If you fear something, that means you are aware of the danger involved and you’re extra careful. You take every possible precaution to make sure you nothing bad happens.
When I go rock climbing I do it with a healthy dose of fear. I have to. It’s showing respect for something that if you don’t show respect, it will kill you. A single misstep and you’re plunging hundreds of feet straight down a cliff face to land with a splat, your insides instantly turned to jelly.
I didn’t fear you last time. I didn’t show you respect. I fell and went splat.
It’s not gonna’ happen this time.
I know what you are capable of and I respect it.
The fear is back.
The honest truth is that without Kyzer’s influence you have become something special. An amoral force of nature in a WFWF ring. Nobody has stopped you and many believe nobody will.
What Zmey wants, Zmey gets.
That’s why you hold wins over Drakz and me, the top two champions in the company. By all rights you should have a belt around your waist already.
That’s why you are main eventing SuperBrawl against Drakz.
That’s why you are in Lila’s little round robin gauntlet with yet another title shot on the line. If you beat Mesh, Tyler, and me, you’ll have two chances to knock Drakz off his high horse.
If it can’t be me then I say more power to you. Kick his arrogant @ss.
BUT…
There’s always a “but”.
…I have different plans.
The fear is back.
You scare me. I’m looking at you the same way I look at a mountain of sheer rock that goes straight up for a thousand feet or more. I know you can kill me if I make the slightest misstep.
That’s a good thing.
It means I will be far more careful this time. I’ll take every precaution. I won’t make any mistakes. I will fight the perfect fight.
You are going to find out what a master of multiple combat disciplines is capable of. I can use your own size and weight against you. I can put you in submission holds so painful that even you will have to tap or suffer a dislocation or broken bone.
You may be a giant but you are still a man and any man can be broken when you apply pressure to the right places. I know all the right places. I know all the right holds. I know if I’m careful and don’t make any mistakes, I can break you.
I will get you in the Dasochoku.
I will put you to sleep.
I will win the guaranteed title shot.
All because while I fear you, you don’t fear me. I can see it in your eyes. Whatever has happened to you in your long strange life has hardened you to the point that you fear nothing.
That which you don’t fear can come out of no where to surprise you.
At Arizona Sunshine I’m going to surprise you.
Make the most of your SuperBrawl match because it’s the only shot you’ll be getting. I’m coming out of Arizona Sunshine with a guaranteed title shot. It’s gonna’ be one helluva match when the International Champion and World Heavyweight Champion face off in the main event and I surprise Drakz too.
Out of no where… new World Heavyweight Champion Frank Lynn!
I like the sound of that.
Then I will be the one everyone fears.
Even you.
Tugarin Zmey.
The Dragon.
One more mountain for me to climb.
So the high and mighty Drakz wants to call himself the Constant of the WFWF.
I think he’s taken a few too many blows to the head and his brain has been permanently damaged.
Look at the facts.
In the past three years, Drakz has indeed been the World Champion three times. But he’s also been MIA for what… twelve… eighteen months? I don’t know exactly how long he was absent but it was a f***ing long time. How can you be the Constant when you haven’t even been around for more than half of the past three years?
When Drakz returned, calling himself Mr. 851 because of his record breaking title reign, he barely held on to the title for a hundred days. He lost it to Penny Shannon the very first time he had to defend it. His reign would have been even shorter had his match against Tugarin Zmey been for the title. That’s two losses since his allegedly triumphant return.
Drakz isn’t swinging nearly as big a dick as he likes to think. Maybe he should get some Viagra.
It all adds up to one simple conclusion.
Drakz isn’t the Constant of the WFWF anymore!
If not Drakz, then who?
David Brennan could have made a case to being the Constant. He was THE dominant force in the WFWF for over two years, the ONLY man to hold EVERY belt at once.
I admit it, I’ve never been particularly fond of the man but you have to respect his achievements. He was the Constant… until he lost the World Championship and disappeared into the night to become the subject of dirt sheet rumors that he is getting fat drinking beers at a beachside bar in Borneo or dead at the bottom of the North Atlantic Ocean or raising ostriches in the Australian outback.
So it’s not David F’n Brennan.
Several others could have been the Constant: Joshua Dean, Joe Bishop, Michael Kyzer, and Trace Demon.
Too bad they’re all gone now too. Some to injury, some to retirement but the end result is the same.
They’re not the constant.
Who does that leave?
Ante Whitner?
Don’t make me laugh! Ante had his moment of glory at SuperBrawl IX and it’s been all downhill since then, several of his major losses coming at the hands of yours truly with another to come soon at SuperBrawl X.
Mesh?
Despite all her success against anybody who isn’t me, she still has that new car smell. Maybe if she sticks around and gets a little dirty she could be the Constant but not yet.
Tyler Draven?
Do something other than attack your mentor from behind with a barbwire baseball bat first. Kissing the boss’s @ss for a job doesn’t count.
Is there anybody left who has a valid claim to being the Constant of the WFWF?
Anybody?
Think long and hard.
I’m sure someone will come to mind.
…
Hello!
I’m standing right in f***ing front of you.
That’s right.
Me.
Frank Lynn.
The Lethal Weapon.
The Fighting Champion.
The 2016 Rookie of the Year.
The International Champion.
Over the past three years I have always been here. I’ve had more matches than anybody else - over thirty. I’ve had more wins than anybody else - over twenty. I’ve been the International Champion for a year. The longest current reigning champion by a long shot and the third longest reigning International Champion in WFWF history.
I don’t always win but I always show and put up a damn good fight. Nobody gets a free ride when they’re facing me. They’re in for a fight. If my opponent makes even the slightest slip, even the great ones, then I’m going to put them to sleep. Just ask Trace Demon or Kyzer.
Fact is, I’ve put more into this company than any other son of a bitch to walk through those doors in the past three years. Mock me if you want but I put in the effort that nobody else can compare to, both in quantity and quality. The truly scary part is there’s still room for improvement and I’m getting better every time out.
I am the man who shows up come hell or high water and reminds everybody what the WFWF is really about: in ring competition featuring world class combat sports athletes.
There is no denying it.
I am the beating heart of the WFWF.
I am the fighting spirit of the WFWF.
I am the bright future of the WFWF.
I am the REAL Constant of the WFWF.
Suck on that Drakz!
I’m gonna’ win Lila’s little round robin gauntlet and get a shot at the World Champion!
Because I AM THE MOTHER F***ING CONSTANT OF THE WFWF!
Not Drakz.
Do you hear that ringing sound? It’s a bell. It’s tolling for you, Drakz.
Take a look to the sky just before you die
It is the last time you will
Blackened roar massive roar fills the crumbling sky
Shattered goal fills his soul with a ruthless cry
Stranger now, are his eyes, to this mystery
He hears the silence so loud
Crack of dawn, all is gone except the will to be
Now they see what will be, blinded eyes to see
For whom the bell tolls
Time marches on
For whom the bell tolls
WFWF Sin City Showdown RP
WWDFNBD
featuring Frank Lynn
“Nothing behind me, everything ahead of me, as is ever so on the road.” - Jack Kerouac
Somewhere between Massachusetts and Maine : March 15, 2019
Road Trip, part 1
It’s going to be a long drive but I need it. The isolation of the road will give me time to think, to reflect, and to plan.
I have two anniversaries coming up: three years in the WFWF and one year as International Champion. It’s a good start but I want more… a lot more! I didn’t come to the WFWF to be one of the guys. I want to stand out… stand above… join the ranks of the icons and legends who are mentioned years after they depart.
Lila’s gauntlet is my chance to take the next step towards becoming an icon of the WFWF. I want this. I want it so bad I can’t even put it into words. Best I can come up with is that every nerve in my body is tingling in anticipation, every muscle twitching as I get closer to facing off against Mesh, Draven, and Zmey.
F***ing Tugarin Zmey.
My butt clenches at the thought of another match with him. He’s not just a monster. He’s a brick wall I have to blast through if I’m going to take the next step.
After our first match, I’m not sure I can do it. I came in like a wrecking ball and he wre-eh-ecked me. Damn the radio for playing Miley Cyrus.
I feel like the wall may be too much for me. The losses to Zmey and Drakz weigh heavily on me, casting doubts as to how high I can really go.
I’ve let too many opportunities slip through my grasp. The brass ring is a slippery devil.
I have questions. I need answers.
Shooting Star
Welcome to the big time Mesh.
Not many of us can claim to have such an impressive record in our rookie year nor could we call ourselves a champion less than year into our careers.
Let’s not forget the 2018 Rookie of the Year award. Welcome to the club.
You have earned the right to be part of Lila’s gauntlet.
You’re a shooting star streaking across the clear night sky. Everybody is looking up at you making wishes that you have continued success and that you keep rising through the ranks of the WFWF. I have faith that you will one day grant all those wishes and do great things.
You have impressed me.
This is where the compliments stop.
You might think that this gauntlet is another stop on your express ride to the top. Another box to check off your bucket list of WFWF achievements.
It’s not.
Because I am also in this gauntlet.
I’ve spent the last three years working my @ss off, slowly scratching and clawing my way ever so closer to the likes of Demon, Brennan, Kyzer, and Drakz.
I’m ready for this opportunity. I’m ready to go after AND beat the World Champ.
I don’t think you’re ready for the moment. Its too big for you. It’s a black hole that is going to swallow up the shooting star.
We’re friends but as I’ve said before, when the bell rings I don’t have friends. I have opponents who are standing in the way of what I want. I have enemies that I must vanquish.
My hunger to win the gauntlet, to win the World Title, to be one of the truly great WFWF superstars is a ravenous beast that you simply cannot beat.
Forget Tyler Draven.
Forget Tugarin Zmey.
Remember Frank Lynn.
That’s the name of the man who is going to halt your meteoric rise. Again. Like I did last year when I handed you your first and only loss.
Things have changed since our last match. I’m better than I was then. That’s what drives people crazy about me. I’m always getting better. You can’t look at what I did six months ago and say “I can beat him” because you won’t be getting Frank Lynn from six months ago. You’ll be facing the Frank Lynn of today who has improved dramatically from six months ago.
I am the one who is going pluck the shooting star out of the sky, bring it crashing down to Earth, and make you realize that as far as you’ve come you still have a long way to go before you’re anywhere close to my level.
You may ask why. Because I have the confidence that comes from having been in the ring with virtually everybody in the WFWF and holding my own with each and every one of them, coming out of it victorious more often than not. You, on the other hand, are still in the honeymooon stage where just being here is enough to make you happy.
We might as well be two siblings with one slice of pizza left in front of us. You’d ask if it was okay for you to eat it. I’d just reach out and take the damn slice because I wanted it and I know you won’t stop me.
Until you’re willing to unapologetically take the last slice, you won’t get past me or Draven or Zmey.
My heart is pulling for you to do well but my head is ready to crush your dreams.
Only one of us will win the gauntlet. I’m sorry but it won’t be you.
I’m not letting another brass ring slip through my fingers.
I’m going to win it all.
As it was with Billy Broom, I hope we can still be friends when it’s over.
Bar Harbor, Maine : March 15, 2019
Road Trip, part 2
My road trip has brought me to a gated estate in Bar Harbor, Maine. The engine purrs as I contemplate whether I should ring the bell or not. I came this far. I should finish what I started, right?
Why Bar Harbor, Maine? That’s an easy one. This is where David F’n Brennan lives.
Why am I sitting outside David Brennan’s estate in my ’67 Impala wondering if he will invite me in for a pleasant conversation and maybe some tea and crumpets? That’s a bit harder to answer.
Things have gotten complicated in the WFWF. Drakz may be the champ but he is vulnerable. A veritable army of contenders is coming out of the woodwork. Shannon, Zmey, and Kyzer (if he isn’t as retired as he would have us believe) are all standing outside Drakz’ door, threatening to kick it down. I want to be counted amongst the contenders but Drakz has my number so far. I could use some words of wisdom from a voice of experience - Brennan’s voice in particular.
No, I haven’t gone completely off my rocker. That’s what I’ve been telling myself for the past three hours.
Brennan is the man I kneed in his broken face to take away his International Championship. Believe me, I know! It’s been hard getting to sleep at night as I wonder if I really deserve the title I’ve held for a year.
Brennan is a surly bastard who doesn’t like or respect most people. He certainly never had a good word to say about me.
Brennan has completely removed himself from the public world after losing his title to Drakz. All signs point to him wanting nothing to do with the WFWF ever again.
Everything adds up to David seeing me at the gate, extending a certain finger that doesn’t mean he thinks I’m number one, and slamming his door in my face.
If that’s the case, then why the hell am I here?
I’m trying to climb the ladder in the WFWF. I’ve reached a glass ceiling that I can’t break through.
The glass ceiling has a name, two names in fact: Tugarin Zmey and Drakz.
Oh I can talk tough in my promos but some of it is bluster to keep up my public image. Until I actually beat them in the ring I’m full of sh*t.
I’m confident but not to the point of being so cocky I can’t recognize my shortcomings and seek help to fix them. I guess I’m growing up because that’s not something I would have admitted to myself a year or two ago. I’m smart enough now to know I’m missing something.
Give me enough time and I’ll figure it out for myself but I’m impatient. A more experienced hand can tell me what I’m missing and how to find it right now. Then I can truly reach the top of the mountain and become the man in the WFWF, something more than a steady hand and gatekeeper separating curtain jerkers from main eventers.
Nobody remembers the gatekeepers. Everybody remembers the World Heavyweight Champions.
David f’n Brennan certainly wasn’t my first choice.
I thought about calling Joe Bishop. Decided against it because after Joe’s speech at the awards show I think he HAS gone off his rocker. From righteous crusader to arrogant douchebag. Good job Joe. Is everybody from England a prick or just the professional wrestlers? I doubt he would even take my call and I doubt even more that I would like anything he has to say to me.
I thought about calling Joshua Dean. Decided against it because he’s probably with Penny. They had so much in common before and now have one more thing to add to the list: Drakz made sure each of their title reigns lasted about as long as a cup of coffee. Josh deals with Penny directly on an almost daily basis. They’re good friends and trusted colleagues. Josh sends his minion Scott to deal with me. I rarely hear from Josh. So yeah, I’m not going to bother Josh with my problems when I’m pretty sure he’s busy consoling poor Penny Shannon after her heartbreaking loss.
And so I came to David Brennan.
It’s not as crazy as it sounds.
He doesn’t get as much credit as he should, not from me or anybody else. Once he got off the sauce, he became a good guy… or at the very least not quite a bad guy anymore. He was winning his matches on the up and up, no more breaking empty beer bottles over some unlucky bastard’s head. For all his tough talk, he took great pride in being a champion, the sign of someone who values competition over everything else.
Sound like anybody you know?
We have the Boston connection too. He might not see it as he was all about the South Side while I was from the wrong side of the river but we both bleed true Boston blood. That has to be worth something.
That’s not the biggest reason I think Brennan might talk to me. I’ve got my eyes on two big fish that he let get away: Tugarin Zmey and Drakz. Maybe, just maybe, he’s more angry at them than he ever was at me and wouldn’t mind telling me a few secrets so I could exact a little revenge for him.
Maybe…
I feel like a nervous kid rehearsing to ask a girl out for the first time, playing the scene out in my head so I get everything just right.
Persistence
Here we go again, eh Tyler?
I have to give it to you, you are one persistent mother f***er.
You’ve lucked into yet another opportunity to go after a WFWF title. I bet you’re real happy with yourself right now. You already have a shot at MY title in our ladder match at SuperBrawl. Now you have a chance to lock down a shot at the World Heavyweight Championship too. All you have to do is beat Mesh, Tugarin Zmey, and me in the same night.
That’s freakin’ ambitious, ‘specially for a cocky little bastard like you.
I was a lot like you when I first arrived in the WFWF. I mean, I didn’t put anybody in a coma to get my job but other than that we have much in common.
I was hungry too when I was a rookie. Two months into my WFWF career I was calling out the big dogs: Drakz and Joshua Dean. Along with my Thunderbird partner Mike Jette, I was intent on getting a title around my waist as fast as humanly possible. I had no doubt I could take down two giants of the business. I was a cocky son of a b*tch.
I learned the hard way that titles don’t come that easy.
Drakz and Josh beat our asses from pillar to post. Then it was Ante Whitner’s turn to deny me the Golden Opportunity… twice. The Supreme Gauntlet tournament didn’t go quite so well either. I had my best chance in the International Gauntlet match but even that ended badly thanks to that @sshole Phillip Schneider.
(Where are you Obo? I’m still waiting for you to show your ugly face at a WFWF show.)
It took two years, a lot of hard work, and few lucky breaks to go my way before I finally got my taste of gold.
I see that same hunger in you.
Too bad for you that I’m now the big dog standing in your way, ready to play the role of spoiler to make sure you don’t get what you want.
Take my advice. You’ve set your sites too high.
You should be aiming for the Vanguard Championship. Mesh vs Tyler Draven would be a damn close match. You might beat her and get that title you covet so much.
Draven vs Lynn for the International Championship? That’s not going to go so well for you. I’ve beat you before. I’ll beat you again. Maybe one day you’ll be real competition for me but right now, not so much. You’re just a brash rookie in need of another @ss kicking.
As for Draven vs Drakz for the World Heavyweight Championship? Not a snowballs chance in f***ing hell. Drakz would eat you alive and use your bones as a toothpick.
Know your place rookie!
There’s no way you’re winning the gauntlet. Not when you’re up against Mesh, Zmey, and me. One, two, or all three of us are going beat you.
You’re not that good. Your reach exceeds your grasp. You have to set more realistic goals.
I suggest you start with surviving your matches at Arizona Sunshine.
Mesh may be your best chance at a win because you are both rookies in way over your heads but my money is on the blue haired pixie. There’s a reason why she was the rookie of the year and not you.
I’m going to put you to sleep. You’ll lose but live to fight another day.
Tugarin Zmey may break you in half. You’ll lose and probably end up in the hospital. Maybe you can share a room with Trace Demon and wax nostalgic about your in ring executions. Won’t that be fun?
I’ll see you in Phoenix, Tyler.
If you’re as good as you think you are, I’ll see you at SuperBrawl X in Dallas.
If you’re as good as I think you are, the ladder match will be a one on one contest between me and Ante Whitner.
Bar Harbor, Maine : March 15, 2019
Road Trip, part 3
I’m not sure how long I’ve been sitting here, running through scenarios in my head. Long enough for the sun to move a good way through the afternoon sky.
Brennan’s estate is impressive. Gated entrance. Manicured lawn. A mansion set well back from the gate. Add in his private jet and you know he didn’t get all of this from his WFWF earnings. I know who his father was. This doesn’t bode well for the “crime doesn’t pay” meme.
Am I going to do it? I don’t even know if he is home, although I think I saw someone pulling a curtain aside to glance in my direction. Even if he is home, will he let me in long enough to speak my piece?
Let me run through it one more time before I try for real.
I set the scene in my head. Ring the bell. Get asked who is it. Tell him. Silence. Slowly, the gate opens. Make my way down the driveway. Get out of the car. Take a deep breath before I walk to the porch aka the lion’s den. The door opens. It’s him in all his tattooed glory. He looks like he’s been keeping himself in shape.
Hello David.
That’s Brennan to you. What the f*** do you want?
Same old Brennan. Nothing’s changed since his retirement. Take no sh*t. Take no prisoners. He stares at me with those stone cold eyes of his. A lesser man would turn away but I stare right back.
I came here to talk. That’s all.
Piss off.
I expected that. It’s not like I’m an old friend come to visit with a six pack in hand (Damn it, I should have picked up some beers to soften him up). I f***ed him over in the WFWF. Not sure what is keeping him from kicking my @ss right now. Maybe he’s mellowed now that he’s out of the game?
Please, hear me out.
No. You hard of hearing? I only let you get this far so I could see your face when I tell you to f*** off.
Charming. Expected. Now to eat some humble pie. It’s my only chance to win him over.
I’m sorry. Sincerely. I took advantage of you at Back to Basics, stole your title by kneeing you in the face after you were already down. It was wrong.
Goddamnit, you can’t take a hint. Well f*** it. Might be fun to watch the great Frank Lynn grovel at my feet. You wanna’ talk, I’ll listen.
Maybe wishful thinking on my part, maybe not. He did adopt an kid who tried to kick his @ss. Brennan could have a heart underneath his gruff exterior. This only works if he does so I roll with it.
Thank you.
Awkward pause. Somebody say something! An impatient Brennan starts pacing back and forth.
I didn’t say I’d talk back. Speak your piece before I kick your @ss all the way back to Boston.
For starters, like I said, I’m sorry for how I took the International Championship from you. If you ever come back you have an open offer for a proper match. We can find out if I really deserve the title or not.
I can see his muscles flexing underneath his t-shirt, veins popping on his neck, a scowl forming on his face.
Damn it Franky, that was the only thing you ever did that I understood.
It was actually Daphne’s idea. I got caught up in the moment.
Well she’s a sh*tload smarter than you.
For someone who wasn’t going to talk he’s sure saying a lot. This is going as well as could be expected. Sure he’s insulting me every chance he gets but at least he’s not punching me in the face.
You’ll get no argument from me.
Is that all you wanted to say? My beer’s gettin’ warm.
No, the apology was just to get my foot in the door. I wouldn’t waste the time and gas to drive all this way just to say “I’m sorry” and offer a match. I want something from Brennan. I hope he’s in a giving mood. I try to come off as non-aggressive as I can, taking a seat in the swinging bench.
No. I need some advice.
And you came to me? HA HA HA HA You’re a special kind of stupid.
Well at least I made him laugh. Laughter puts people in good moods. This could work in my favor. At the very least, he’s stopped flexing and the veins in his neck aren’t quite so prominent.
I had that same thought many times on the drive here but I’m at my wit’s end. I thought you would say no but hoped I could change your mind if we were face to face.
Doubtful. My patience is running out. Talk faster or start walking.
Now for the final piece of bait. Either I reel him in or I leave empty-handed.
I want to beat Zmey and Drakz. I have to beat them. You know how. I think you’ll tell me how because you owe both of them a receipt.
That’s it? Revenge by proxy? Lissen’ closely ‘cuz I’m only saying this once. I’m done with the WFWF. Moved on to other sh*t. Or I died in a plane crash in the Atlantic Ocean while returning from my adventures around the world with A-wut. Believe what you want. Only thing that matters is I’m done with it all.
Methinks the lady doth protest too much. Thanks Shakespeare, I’ll take it from here.
Really? You’ve slammed the door shut on that part of your life. No regrets? Nothing you’d do different?
I had a good run. I was the king of the mother f***ing hill. Not many can say that.
Brennan is not the pride goeth before the fall kinda’ man. I refuse to believe he can just give it all up without a few regrets and some unfinished business. That’s what I’m counting on. I lean forward and give him a long hard stare before speaking again.
So you don’t care that the last thing people will remember of David f’n Brennan is that Drakz left you laying in the middle of the ring staring at the sky? Or that Tugarin Zmey made a habit out of leaving you for dead outside arenas all over the world? The Bobby Orr statue still has a pink tint from your blood.
I have no idea if the statue is pink or not. It’s something extra I added to hit him where it hurts - his Boston pride. I have it too so I know you don’t f*ck with our sports heroes. Somebody pisses on the parquet at the Garden, they’re gonna’ pay.
Careful boy or I might take it out on you, bein’ as you’re here in my face wasting my time and pissin’ me off.
See, you do care. Let me be your weapon. Tell me how to beat guys like Zmey and Drakz.
Dammit, if that’s what it takes to get you off my porch, fine.
YES! He took the bait and I reeled him in, giving him the time and space to work up to it without losing face in front of me. He takes a seat in a chair facing me, arms stretched out resting on the back of the chair.
First things first, never apologize. You did what you had to and it made you a champion. It was a bitch move for sure. Not the worst I’ve seen though. The name Dex ring a bell?
Noted. Never apologize.
At this point, the less I say the better. Brennan is on a roll and even if I don’t agree with everything he says, I want to hear it. If I butt in and try to argue he might stop. Can’t have that. There has to be a diamond or two amongst all the lumps of coal.
As for the rest, stop worrying about what anybody else thinks. The fans don’t know sh*t. Every other wrestler in the f***ing locker room is lying to you, particularly the ones that pretend to be your friend. Lila doesn’t give a f***, she’s all about the money.
Scott… that’s my agent from Championship Connections… he says fan support is important. Gotta’ move merch.
F*** him. I sold a sh*t ton of “Db F’n WF” t-shirts because I was the champ. I didn’t give a damn about winning over the fans. I was the champ. That was enough.
True.
Sucks that I never got any royalties. I came up with “DB F’N WF” after all. Not even a thank you from Brennan or the suits in marketing.
You wanna’ beat Zmey and Drakz? You’re gonna’ have to forget about your causes and crusades. Fight for yourself ‘cuz you’re a bad@ss.
Brennan laughs at his own words. It’s the worst insult he’s made so far. Why did I come to this man for advice? Am I a special kind of stupid?
No way I was sayin’ that with a straight face. Point is, they’re just like anybody else. You stick a foot in their @ss, they’re goin’ down.
I’m a bad@ss, eh?
Brennan laughs again, longer and louder. You can stop laughing any time now. You’re not the only one who can throw down at a moment’s notice and you’re starting to piss me off.
Still can’t keep a straight face. But you get my point, right? If you fight to win and don’t care about keeping up appearances for the sake of some dumbass cause or the adulation of the fans, you’ll get the job done.
Please don’t let that be all the wisdom Brennan has to share. I need more than “be a condescending prick who only cares about himself”.
That’s it?
Hit first. Hit harder. Hit faster. That’s all I got for ya’. Now get your @ss back in that hotrod and go the f*** away. No tellin’ what A-wut’ll do if he sees you.
He stands up abruptly, his expression and crossed arms leaving no doubt. We’re done. I get up, almost try to shake his hand but think the better of it before I walk back to the Impala. As I get to the car Brennan calls out to me.
Hey Franky. If you do get the chance, be sure to get a few licks in for Uncle Davey. Bastards deserve a good sized mud hole stomped in ‘em.
I laugh at myself for coming up with that. No way Brennan says any of it, particularly the “Uncle Davey” part. HA! Wishful thinking on my part at its best and dumbest. More likely he went inside and slammed the door as soon as I started walking away.
It’s a helluva fantasy. The more I think about it, the more I realize that it won’t go down any way remotely like it. I’ve been a fool to come here.
What will actually happen?
I ring the bell. If I get any response at all, it will be “Who is it?” I’ll answer “Frank Lynn to see David Brennan.” Then one of two things happens.
Absolutely nothing, no reply, no gate opening, just a silent warning to leave.
Or the door of the house opens, Brennan steps out, flips me off, and goes back inside.
God this was a stupid idea. What was I thinking? Am I so desperate to beat Zmey and Drakz that I actually believed I could go to Brennan for help?
I really am a special kind of stupid. I should trade the Impala for a yellow shortbus.
What would David F’n Brennan do?
Who the hell cares?
What will Frank Lynn do?
That’s the question I should be asking.
I don’t have to crawl to the likes of David f’n Brennan to get an answer.
I have the support of people who have my back: Daphne, Sarah, Abe, Scott. Possibly Josh. Probably Josh. And Mesh. Because she’s so damn nice and if you’re nice to her she would take a bullet for you.
I send a short text to Sarah letting her know I’m on my way home. She replies with a pic of Laura asleep in her crib while Doctor Claw watches over her protectively and “Hurry back. We miss you.”
I fire up the engine, enjoy the purr of the finely tuned engine for a minute, and then peel out leaving the house of Brennan in the rear view mirror.
I will say this, “hit first, hit harder, hit faster” is some pretty damn good advice. Not advice I needed to go to Davey boy to get though. It’s common sense. It’s easy to make things more complicated than they have to be. Nice to have somebody hit you over the head with the obvious every once in a while so you don’t forget.
Thanks for the chat David. Enjoy your retirement you rotten bastard.
Fear is a Good Thing
Tugarin Zmey.
The Dragon.
I was afraid of you once. Then I let myself get talked out of my fear by others who didn’t have to step in the ring with you.
That wasn’t very smart on my part.
You destroyed me, as everybody expected when the match was announced. The seven foot four hundred pound monster who beat Drakz would make easy work of Frank Lynn. And that is exactly what you did.
With a little help from Tyler Draven and Ante Whitner.
Not that I think you needed any help.
You had my number. There was no way I was going to beat you that night.
All because I didn’t fear you.
Fear isn’t a bad thing. Fear is what keeps us from doing stupid sh*t. If you fear something, that means you are aware of the danger involved and you’re extra careful. You take every possible precaution to make sure you nothing bad happens.
When I go rock climbing I do it with a healthy dose of fear. I have to. It’s showing respect for something that if you don’t show respect, it will kill you. A single misstep and you’re plunging hundreds of feet straight down a cliff face to land with a splat, your insides instantly turned to jelly.
I didn’t fear you last time. I didn’t show you respect. I fell and went splat.
It’s not gonna’ happen this time.
I know what you are capable of and I respect it.
The fear is back.
The honest truth is that without Kyzer’s influence you have become something special. An amoral force of nature in a WFWF ring. Nobody has stopped you and many believe nobody will.
What Zmey wants, Zmey gets.
That’s why you hold wins over Drakz and me, the top two champions in the company. By all rights you should have a belt around your waist already.
That’s why you are main eventing SuperBrawl against Drakz.
That’s why you are in Lila’s little round robin gauntlet with yet another title shot on the line. If you beat Mesh, Tyler, and me, you’ll have two chances to knock Drakz off his high horse.
If it can’t be me then I say more power to you. Kick his arrogant @ss.
BUT…
There’s always a “but”.
…I have different plans.
The fear is back.
You scare me. I’m looking at you the same way I look at a mountain of sheer rock that goes straight up for a thousand feet or more. I know you can kill me if I make the slightest misstep.
That’s a good thing.
It means I will be far more careful this time. I’ll take every precaution. I won’t make any mistakes. I will fight the perfect fight.
You are going to find out what a master of multiple combat disciplines is capable of. I can use your own size and weight against you. I can put you in submission holds so painful that even you will have to tap or suffer a dislocation or broken bone.
You may be a giant but you are still a man and any man can be broken when you apply pressure to the right places. I know all the right places. I know all the right holds. I know if I’m careful and don’t make any mistakes, I can break you.
I will get you in the Dasochoku.
I will put you to sleep.
I will win the guaranteed title shot.
All because while I fear you, you don’t fear me. I can see it in your eyes. Whatever has happened to you in your long strange life has hardened you to the point that you fear nothing.
That which you don’t fear can come out of no where to surprise you.
At Arizona Sunshine I’m going to surprise you.
Make the most of your SuperBrawl match because it’s the only shot you’ll be getting. I’m coming out of Arizona Sunshine with a guaranteed title shot. It’s gonna’ be one helluva match when the International Champion and World Heavyweight Champion face off in the main event and I surprise Drakz too.
Out of no where… new World Heavyweight Champion Frank Lynn!
I like the sound of that.
Then I will be the one everyone fears.
Even you.
Tugarin Zmey.
The Dragon.
One more mountain for me to climb.
I dont know good luck 
