Post by King Richius on Jan 18, 2018 0:15:12 GMT -5
Prologue: A Grave Conversation
Cambridge, MA : November 14, 2017
A typical cemetery: wrought iron fence with an ornate gate surrounding row after row of tombstones nestled in meticulously groomed grass that would make the groundskeeper at Augusta proud. A few above ground mausoleums are scattered about for those too rich to be worm food. Go through the gate, up the main road, take the second right, go two hundred yards, and make your way three rows deep. That’s where you will find Frank Lynn in front of a tombstone bearing the name Laura Lynn.
Frank is sitting cross logged having a quiet conversation, the one-sided kind that you can only have in a cemetery. Talk to yourself for this long anywhere else and people will purposely cross a street to avoid close contact with the crazy person because, as we all know, crazy is contagious.
Hello Ma. Sorry I haven’t visited sooner. Life’s been busy. I have news, lots to catch you up on.
This might come as a surprise. Dad’s alive. I sh*t you not. Even had a DNA test to prove it. He showed up a few months after… well you know. That’s the good news.
The rest is all bad news. He’s a South American drug lord. Well, “alleged” drug lord. You know the old saying: where there’s smoke, there’s fire. Where Juan Carlos goes, there is always a thick black cloud of smoke. As for how he became a drug lord, he didn’t tell and I didn’t ask.
What did he want? According to him, he never knew he had a son until recently and he wanted to be a part of my life. Gave me some BS about helping me take over the WFWF. I didn’t buy it. He came off too slick, used car salesman slick if you know what I mean. I politely ask him to get bent. I never had a father as a kid, don’t need one as an adult, and even if I did, he didn’t fit the bill. He left. Flew back to Brazil in his private jet and I haven’t heard from him since. I think it’s for the best.
Here’s some really good news. You’re going to be a grandmother! Sarah’s pregnant. The baby is due early summer. Don’t you worry, I’m going to do right by the kid. No disappearing act for me. If it’s a girl, I want to name her Laura. I hope Sarah agrees.
It sucks that you never got to meet Sarah. You’d like her. Intelligent, head strong, independent… a lot like you.
Frank pauses, as most people do, when they run out of gossip and get to the real reason for their visit. There is one aspect of talking to the dead that everybody knows but nobody speaks of. They are the best people to confess to. You don’t even have to ask, you just know the dead will neither judge you nor reveal your deepest, darkest secrets five minutes later to anybody who will listen. And so, like many a graveside visitor before him, Frank bares his soul to his departed mother.
I wish you were still here with us. I really want to ask you a question. Why did you give me the Best of WFWF DVD set? I could have had a long career in MMA, living in blissful ignorance of how unhappy I really was at the time. Watching those DVDs showed me that there was a combat sport that offered something more than just boring fight after boring fight.
I can’t deny it. I get a rush like nothing else when I walk out to the ring with the music, lights, pyro, and tens of thousands of fans cheering me on. I get to do things in a wrestling ring that you cannot do in amateur wrestling or the octagon. I’d get fired in an instant if I tried a frog splash off the top of the octagon in the Guerrilla Fighting League. Probably get blackballed from MMA entirely. Do a frog splash in a WFWF match and you get cheered. They want you to do it again, leaping higher and landing harder each time. It’s a high and it’s very addictive.
I enjoy being a pro wrestler. It’s a roller coaster ride for sure, but the adrenaline junkie in me feeds on this sh*t. I can’t get enough. The WFWF is the only place I can do what makes me happy.
Did you know that before I did? Is that why you gave me the DVDs? Was the gift your way of giving me a push in the right direction?
If so, then thank you. And f*** you too. Because the dream is also a nightmare. You watched more wrestling than me. You knew the kind of people who work in the WFWF ring; the twisted psychopaths who use the WFWF to live out their sadistic fantasies in front of the largest audience possible.
Maybe you thought I could beat them.
Maybe you thought I could avoid them.
Maybe you thought I was one of them.
God, I hope it isn’t that one. I’d like to think you thought more highly of me than that.
Maybe you thought I could change them.
That’s more in line with how you thought. You were always helping people, whether as a nurse or a volunteer for the Red Cross or counseling drug addicts at the free clinic. You raised me well, maybe a little too well for my own good.
Less than a year into my WFWF career it became obvious to me there were problems. I tried to make the WFWF a safer, better place. I’m still trying. It’s hard, really f***ing hard. Every way I turn there is someone getting in the way of the revolution, trying to put me down. So much resistance from so many who are willing to do anything they can to stop me from taking the sh*t show out of the WFWF. ANYTHING! They play dirty and there are no lines they won’t cross.
They got Josh. They got Joe. At International Assault, the bastards got me.
I knew it had to happen eventually. I thought I would be ready for it but Phillip Schneider caught me by surprise. I didn’t expect it during the Gauntlet and I damn sure didn’t expect it to be so savage. The son of a bitch virtually crucified me like Christ on the cross paying for all of our sins.
But I’m not a messiah. I found that out the hard way. Before I passed out from hanging on those hooks in my back all I could think is how much I wanted to wrap my hands around Schneider’s neck and squeeze until he stopped breathing. I wanted to kill him with my bare hands. I would have done it too if I could have freed myself. I can’t promise I won’t do it the next time I see his ugly face.
So much for the great revolutionary leader, eh? I’m just as ugly as everybody else. How quickly I forgot about turning the other cheek. Somebody hurts me, really hurts me bad, and all I care about is hurting them back. I saw red then and I’m still seeing red now. I don’t want honorable combat. I don’t even want justice. I want vengeance. I want to see the lights go out in his eyes as I send whatever passes for his soul straight to hell. I’m not a hero, I’m an action movie cliché.
Don’t tell Brennan my halo is broken. He’d have a field day with that for sure. Kinda’ funny that the man who says I’m beneath his notice can’t stop talking about me… or you for that matter. He got f***ing lucky at the gauntlet, not having to fight me. The condescending prick is another one who makes me see red.
Damn it! Do you see how tempting it is to turn into another bitter WFWF wrestler on a never ending quest for violent retribution?
I have to be strong. I have to keep up the fight. The revolution must win. I can’t let anyone else go through what I did… what I am still going through now. I can’t let the twisted SOBs corrupt me. I have to fight this urge to sink to their level.
I will not become a monster.
I wish you were here. I miss you so damn much.
Frank stands up and looks to the right at the empty plot next to his mother’s, paid in advance and patiently waiting for the day it is filled and adorned with a tombstone bearing the name Francis Thomas Lynn.
Not yet. The Whitners, Schneiders, and Demons of the world are trying but I’m still kicking.
WFWF All or Nothing RP
The Slippery Slope
featuring Frank Lynn
”I walked along that slippery slope where if you fail through lack of faith, you sell your soul to the devil.” - Michelle Shocked
Boston, MA : December 1, 2017
There are aspects to being a silent co-owner of Legacy that I do not like. Today is a perfect example. Abraham was already unhappy with me for getting his business manager pregnant, which was cutting into her work hours as well as making her personality more… volatile shall we say. Hormones. Whatcha’ gonna’ do? But that was something he could get over because, well, what kind of bastard would hold having a baby against Sarah? Certainly not Abraham, an old softy at heart. His complaining took the form of good natured ribbing and we were all cool with it.
The same cannot be said for getting his Women’s Champion injured so bad that she cannot wrestle forcing Abraham to strip her of the title. It’s at least partially my fault he just lost a popular main eventer and has to scramble to crown a new women’s champion. He gave me a tongue lashing and I sat there taking it because I knew he was right. Daphne got injured fighting my revolution.
I should have had done something to protect Daphne. That was part of our deal from the start. She would be my manager as long as it doesn’t interfere with her own career in Legacy. I failed her. She wasn’t necessarily an innocent bystander but that doesn’t change the fact that she took a bullet for me. Collateral damage leading to a guilty conscience.
I sat there quietly nodding my head trying not to look sad and pathetic while Abraham reminded me that my actions have ramifications beyond my own career in the WFWF. Abraham gave me what I can only imagine was the disappointed father act I never got as a kid. After rambling on for a half hour he finally got to his point. He made me swear it would all be worth it. He made me swear that Trace Demon was going down and the revolution would bring about change so that nobody else’s career would be interrupted if not ended the way Daphne and mine were at International Assault.
Way to turn that guilt around into motivation, not that I needed more motivation. I haven’t been able to talk sense into a single member of the WFWF. Now I am down to my last option. Hit people over the head with a two ton brick and force them to see that there is a better way. Beat Trace Demon, run a WFWF show the right way, and force these dumb f***s to see the light.
***
My mood was down enough when Scott showed up. He was still upset with me over delivering an ultimatum to Lila Sleater. I hadn’t bothered to discuss it with him first and he felt left out of the loop. I need to repair our working relationship because without Scott the revolution wouldn’t have reached this point. It was his PR expertise that gave me the opportunity to deliver an ultimatum that Lila had to accept. Without all of Scott’s work rallying the fans and the media to our cause, Lila could have told me to go f*** myself and that would have been the end of it.
I should have discussed my big idea with him first but honestly, I didn’t want to risk him talking me out of it. Same reason I didn’t tell anybody. I know this can work and didn’t want anybody to talk me out of it. There would be no resistance if I could deliver it as a fait accompli. That’s what I thought.
Too bad I was wrong. Bridges were burning. I had to put the fires out before it was too late.
Scott and I borrowed Abraham’s office for the meeting. The mood was cordial but frosty.
How long are you going to hold it against me?
From business perspective I’m already over it. I’ll do whatever I have to to make sure you’re a prominent WFWF superstar and your merch sells. It’s my job and I’m damn good at it.
What about personally? You’ve become a good friend. I didn’t f*** that up, did I?
You tried. You didn’t trust me. That hurts. You’re gonna’ have to give me some time.
I won’t keep you out of the loop again. I promise.
We’ll see.
There’s hope. I didn’t completely screw things up. I need all the friends I can get if the revolution is to succeed.
This is your meeting. What’s on your mind?
I saw what happened at International Assault. That was supposed to be your night and very well could have been if not for Phillip Schneider.
F*** Phillip Schneider.
It’s not all bad news. David Brennan never beat you. The match never happened. We can use that down the road to get you a proper title match.
But for now we are stuck in the DB f’n WF. Ugh.
I’ll never forget looking out into the crowd and seeing all those damn Brennan t-shirts. Db f’n WF everywhere I looked. How many of those fans were wearing Join the Revolution! shirts a few short weeks ago? It burns even more because it’s all my fault! I’m in the wrong business. I should be in marketing. I wonder if I can make a claim to some of the sales profits. Would it burn David to know he was financing the revolution?
True but you can’t do anything about it right now. As far as the gauntlet went, you have to admit it that your elimination has you rattled. Schneider had his way with you. I want to make sure you stay the course, keep your focus, and finish what you started.
You too? I already got an earful from Abraham.
I’ll spare you the pep talk from me. I’m not a wrestler so I’m not sure how much good it would do anyway. I’ve got a better idea.
Scott puts his laptop on the desk and takes a minute to open up Skype. A minute later, he smiles and turns the laptop around so I can see the screen.
Son of a b*tch. He is alive.
Hello Frank. Long time no see.
Hello Josh. Sorry I haven’t called. I’ve been busy.
”The Franchise” Joshua Dean looks good. Hair pulled back in a pony tail, beard neatly trimmed, dress shirt and tie, a suit jacket probably nearby hanging on a coat rack or slung over the back of his chair, a smile on his face, and a spark in his eyes.
I feel a pang of guilt that I haven’t called him. Or Joe Bishop either. Out of sight, out of mind is no excuse for ignoring the only friends I’ve made in the WFWF.
Me too. Rehab ain’t easy.
How’s it going? Will we be seeing you back in the ring soon?
When I’m ready. That’s all you’ll get out of me so drop it, ’kay?
I hope it’s soon. The revolution needs men like you. Someone has to stand up to the Trace Demon’s of the WFWF. I can’t do it alone.
You’re doing a good job of it. I’ve been watching. You’ve really impressed me.
Thanks. Is that all of your inspirational speech or is there more?
The smile fades from his face. I’m staring at Joshua Dean the mentor, ready to impart some wisdom on his student.
Like I said, I’ve been watching you and I like what I see. You’re one of the elite in the WFWF now. That is obvious because you’re drawing the attention of people who were ignoring you last year. Trace Demon volunteering to work with Lila Sleater just so he can wrestle you? Phillip Schneider crawling out from under his rock to assault you? David Brennan is even taking notice. He name drops you as often as he does anybody else. That’s their f***ed up way of showing respect. They don’t do any of that sh*t for Billy Broom or Griffin Chase, do they?
Do I have your respect too?
You’ve always had my respect, even as far back as when I chased you out of the ring with a baseball bat. You just needed to smooth out your rough edges.
Feel free to stop bringing up the bat incident. Yes, I was acting like an ass clown and yes, you and Drakz taught me that there is no place for clowns in the WFWF.
Heh, sorry. Still butthurt over it, eh? Admit it though, you are a better wrestler because of it.
Yep. Butthurt is fairly accurate. Odd turn for Josh to take in his pep talk. A turn I don’t think I’m in the mood for right now.
I’ll give you that. So where are you going with this? Do you have a point?
Always the impatient one. Okay, I’ll cut right to it. I’m not here to be your cheerleader. You don’t need me or anybody else to tell you that you can beat Trace Demon. You’ve already done it once. Just go out there and do it again. In fact, that’s what Trace Demon is so damn scared of. He’s not used to being an underdog and right now, that is exactly what he is in this match with you.
I agree. He needs this match more than I do because his light is fading while mine is getting brighter. I will beat him and then the real work starts. The revolution takes center stage as I get to be GM for a day.
And that’s where you need to pump the brakes.
Huh? Whaddya’ mean?
You aren’t the first person to try changing the WFWF and you won’t be the last. People have been trying to change the WFWF since you were in diapers. Nobody’s succeeded yet.
There is a sadness in Josh’s expression, the gleam in his eyes dimming just a bit. He came as close as anybody yet it wasn’t enough. I wonder how much he has changed while rehabbing his injuries. When he returns, will he be the same old Franchise?
Another motivation for the revolution. If I win, Josh can come back as he was - an elite wrestler and role model for future generations. If I lose and the revolution fails, he might return as another self centered ultra violent prick.
None of them pushed it as far as I have. None of them ever took over, even if it is just for one day. I’m not leading by example here. I will make them all see a better way.
Assuming you beat Trace Demon, then yes you will have pushed it farther than anybody else but let’s get real. You can tie a person down and force feed them liver and onions with a side of spinach for an entire day. It doesn’t mean that at the end of the day they will suddenly love liver, onions, and spinach. It’s more likely they will hate them even more and take it out on you for forcing them to eat it.
So you think the revolution will fail regardless of whether I win or lose?
Not necessarily. Maybe you do pull off a one in a million miracle and change a Demon or Schneider into a model citizen. I know them far better than you and I have my doubts. Scott warned me that you were putting everything into the revolution, perhaps too much. I want to be sure that you don’t equate the success of the revolution with your success. You can win and the revolution still lose. Are you prepared for that possibility?
There is a long silence as I mull Josh’s question over. Fact is, I haven’t given any thought to what happens if I win, run a show, and it doesn’t convert more wrestlers, suits, and fans to the revolution way of thinking. It would suck to put in all this work and have it amount to nothing.
Sorry, no. I am the revolution. I cannot accept anything less than total victory.
Honestly, no.
Then get prepared for it. The revolution can fail but that doesn’t mean you failed too. It’s okay to think of yourself first. Keep winning your matches because it puts the pressure on Lila to give you a title match against Brennan. That should be your main goal now. Winning a title. You are ready to be a champion. If you convert a few wrestlers along the way and the WFWF becomes a better place consider it a bonus.
Food for thought… I guess. I’ll keep it in mind but for now I’m beating Trace Demon for the revolution. I’ll worry about Brennan’s collection of belts after I deal with Trace… and Phillip Schneider too. As long as he is around, the revolution has work to do.
Don’t let the revolution distract you from the real goal - winning titles. Repeat after me: I don’t need the revolution, the revolution needs me.
Josh is playing therapy games with me. I can’t help but picture Al Franken sitting in front of a mirror in his dad sweater telling himself how great he is. I don’t see where this is going but I’ll play along.
I don’t need the revolution, the revolution needs me.
Good. Now keep saying it until you believe it. Because it’s true. You’ve come a long way in the past year. Don’t let the revolution hold you back from going even further.
It was good to talk to you Josh.
You can call me any time. Now get your ass into the gym and get to work. That’s how you beat Trace Demon. By being better prepared then he is.
The connection closes. I don’t like what Josh had to say. He is supposed to be one of the good guys so why spend all that time talking about the revolution coming up short? I don’t get it. Is he bitter over his injuries and inability to be a part of the revolution? Is he jealous of me succeeding where he failed?
He’s playing a game with me, a more subtle version of the bat incident. I hate being manipulated. I hate it even worse when I can’t figure out what the end game is.
One thing is for sure though. He believes I can beat Trace Demon again. So do I. Trace Demon is going down!
Framingham, MA : December 30, 2017
An Open Letter to the WFWF Universe
The contract has been signed… in blood!
Would you expect any less from the WFWF?
Trace Demon, the king of the sh*t show, is now its official defender while Frank Lynn, the leader of the revolution, is the evil invader storming the castle walls attempting a coup d’état.
That’s the story Lila Sleater would like you to believe. She couldn’t be more wrong, which says a lot since she makes a habit of being wrong.
Let me make it very clear. I’m fighting the revolution for everyone. For myself. For every WFWF wrestler past, present, and future. For Lila Sleater and the rest of the suits. For every single fan.
It amazes me that there is anybody who doesn’t see the need for reform. The fact that three of the last four WFWF World Heavyweight Champions have been put out of action by serious injuries incurred under dubious circumstances should be enough to convince event my most ardent opposition.
Drakz taken out by Michael Kyzer, who wasn’t even in the match. Joshua Dean taken out by Ante Whitner in a savage attack outside the ring that shouldn’t have happened if the ref’s actually did their jobs. Joe Bishop taken out by Trace Demon when all he did was come to the ring to speak to the fans.
It could be four out of four if Kyzer continues his games with David Brennan. What kind of sick f** is he to use children against David Brennan? If David survives Kyzer and manages to take him out, he will be doing the revolution’s work. Thanks Davey boy. Your t-shirt is in the mail.
I don’t mean to diminish the others who have also fallen to injury just because they weren’t former world champions. No one is immune to the sh*t show, not returning stars like the Future and Devilkiller or promising rookies like Hugh Jass. It simply has more impact when it is the cream of the crop, the main event marquee superstars who are the victims. This isn’t Game of Thrones or the The Walking Dead, it’s the WFWF. Win or lose, everyone should come back next show to fight again. Whether you love or hate a superstar, you want to see them wrestle.
I got a first hand taste of the sh*t show at International Assault. Try harder next time Schneider because I’m still standing. It wasn’t even you who sidelined me temporarily, it was Ante Whitner who gave me the concussion that kept me from wrestling.
So why does this sh*t keep happening?
So Trace Demon can remain the center of attention? So Phillip Schneider can showcase his sadistic fetishes? So Michael Kyzer can feel worthy of his nickname as the “God of (who gives a) F***”? So Lila can book ultra-violent blow off matches? So the fans can chant “Holy sh*t” until they lose their voices?
Sounds pretty lame when I put it like that, doesn’t it?
I think the real reason is simple: people are lazy. It’s easier to accept the status quo than it is to change it.
F*** the status quo!
It’s not wrestling. It’s not entertainment. It’s a sh*t show. You want to see gratuitous violence perpetrated by remorseless asshats, go watch A Clockwork Orange.
Unfortunately, my opinion puts me in a precarious position. God help anyone who speaks out against the sh*t show. You become a pariah and a target. You can count your friends on one hand while you need a spreadsheet to keep track of your enemies.
But there is hope.
I know this because a year ago nobody noticed or cared about me. I was a snot-nosed rookie running his mouth that couldn’t win the big one… or even the medium one. My limited success came at the expense of wrestlers who barely rate a footnote in the annals of the WFWF like LeeRoy Jenkins, Danté Brooks, and Big McLargehuge.
Then something happened this past year. I found religion, so to speak, in the revolution. What started as a few sermons by Joe Bishop about the ills of the WFWF became a full fledged movement for reform with me as its leader. With a cause to fight for that was bigger than myself, I started to win. Righteous indignation is a great motivator. I got noticed. People became afraid of me both as an opponent they could not take lightly and a leader of a revolution they could not ignore.
In other words, I got too good. So good that the Demons and Schneiders of the WFWF had to take direct action. I represent a new WFWF, an end to their way of conducting business. They are afraid of me because they either fall in line or I will end them.
I could use Schneider’s attack on me as a reason to resort to equal levels of violence and depravity. It would be easy to sink to his level. But I won’t because to do so means he wins. I become one of them and the revolution dies.
I must double my resolve and stand my ground.
I will win… my way! The right way!
Because the revolution will succeed.
The sh*t show will end.
Framingham, MA : December 31, 2017
Sarah made a fuss all day about this special dinner. She spent hours slaving away in the kitchen cooking the perfect meal. The table was set to the standards of a five star restaurant. Doctor Claw was dosed with catnip and exiled to the bedroom so we could be completely alone.
Seemed like overkill to me. I’m a burger and fries guy at heart. I question how much a cat could bother us. All the cat does is eat, sh*t, and sleep - mostly sleep. But I played along. Best not to risk the wraith of a hormonally driven pregnant woman who was doing her best to prove that “morning sickness” was actually an abbreviation for “morning, noon, and night sickness”.
Imagine my surprise when all we talked about was idle chit chat of no great consequence. I anticipated talk of baby names, living arrangements, and marriage. What I got was the weather, getting new tires before the first winter snowstorm, and lots of gossip about the people at Legacy.
In hindsight I should have seen it for what it was: the quiet before the storm.
After dessert, Sarah disappeared briefly, returning with a long narrow box wrapped in Christmas paper with a gold ribbon.
If that’s a Christmas present, you’re a little late.
Are you complaining about getting an extra gift? Open it. It won’t bite.
I lift the lid off the box, peel back the crinkly red paper lining the inside, and pull out a black aluminum baseball bat. I stand up and take a few practice swings. Yep, it’s a baseball bat. Okay… why?
Thanks. Does this mean you want me to join the Legacy softball team?
We don’t have a softball team.
A simple answer delivered in a somber tone usually reserved for I sentence you to die by lethal injection. So serious. Scary serious. My balls try to crawl inside me.
Then why? I haven’t played baseball since little league.
It’s for your match against Trace Demon. And for the next time Phillip Schneider attacks you. And anybody else who tries any dirty tricks on you.
That’s not how I play the game. That’s not the revolution way.
F*** THE GODDAMN REVOLUTION!
My dick just joined my balls somewhere in the vicinity of my spleen.
I am not going to watch you be criminally assaulted and taken away in an ambulance again. Stop trying to save those sick f***s. They don’t want you to save them. They aren’t even worth the effort of trying to save.
They will break you before they will change for you. Your f***ing revolution has put a target on you that they cannot resist shooting at.
Look at what Whitner did to Daphne. Look at what Schneider and Trace Demon did to you. How can you not see that they are too far gone? The best way to deal with them is euthanasia.
That’s…
No! Don’t speak. Listen.
You can talk all you want about changing the WFWF. I’m not trying to stop you politicking for change but when it is time for you to step in the ring f*** the revolution. You do whatever it takes to protect yourself. Trace Demon IS going to bring HIS bat to the ring and he will find a way to use it on you. Your fists are no match for his bat.
You will take that bat with you every time you go to the ring. When Trace Demon tries to break your knee, you WILL block his swing and take one of your own… right at his goddamn face! If that sick f*** Schneider shows up trying to cut you or burn you or worse, you shove that bat so far up his ass that it knocks all his teeth out.
In other words, you defend yourself and you make sure the assh*les are the ones taking the ambulance ride to the emergency room. Not you. Never you!
You can speak now.
I’m not sure I want to. I’d prefer to run away, maybe hop in the Impala and drive at ludicrous speeds until I hit the Pacific Ocean.
I can’t do that. I will beat them but I have to do it the right way. A baseball bat isn’t the answer.
If you don’t arm yourself, you won’t be a leader of a revolution. You’ll be a dead martyr for a lost cause.
I love you. I’m carrying your child. That gives me some say in how you handle your business. If you won’t do it for yourself, then do it for me.
I want you to come home after your matches, not go to the hospital. I want you to be healthy and physically able to take care of me and our child, not become a cripple whose diapers I’ll have to change too. I don’t want to see you hurt. I can’t handle it.
Her fury has given way to tears. I try to give her my handkerchief but she brushes it away and pleads with me, her voice cracking.
Take the bat. You don’t have to use it. Just have it with you in case you need it. Daphne can hide it under her coat so nobody will know.
I’m going to lose this argument no matter what. Part of me wants to lose. The part that also wants to strangle Phillip Schneider the first chance I get. The part I’m trying desperately to bury so deep down that it never sees the light of day.
Sarah’s idea sounds reasonable but this is how it starts. The road to hell is paved with good intentions. If I bring a baseball bat to the ring but don’t use it, does that make me a bad guy or smart guy? And what happens if I do use it? How far down the slippery slope will that take me? Too far to climb back up from?
Why is this so f***ing hard? Why can’t I just go to a show and wrestle a good clean match without all this bullsh*t?
Most importantly, how do I appease a very angry and worried woman who means the world to me and won’t take no for an answer?
I cave. That’s how.
Okay… okay. I’ll do it. I can accept Daphne carrying the bat under her coat just in case we need it. I’ll ask Daphne but I won’t force her. If she agrees, we can ask the Legacy seamstress to sew in a pocket or some straps or something to hold it in place. If she says no, then it’s not going to happen.
Daphne’s a smart cookie. She’ll say yes.
I’m sure she will follow up with Daphne too. It may not be all that hard of a sell given what happened to Daphne during the gauntlet. Her fiery Latina blood has been at full boil thanks to the injury she suffered from Ante’s vicious pile driver.
I hope Sarah is happy. I feel dirty. I need a shower.
Framingham, MA : January 10, 2018
Daphne does a pirouette, her new coat swirling around her. She wobbles a little at the end, showing the effects of the neck injury and surgery. The stumble doesn’t seem to bother her though as she is all smiles.
I like it.
What’s not to like? It’s an ankle length black leather coat with red fur around the collar and wrists. On the back, her old simplistic red panther logo has been replaced by a much more graphic and detailed image of a snarling panther with blood dripping from its fangs.
It’s not just a new look. Check this out.
Daphne’s reaches inside the coat and pulls out a baseball bat, the same one that Sarah gave me ten days ago. Her smile grows wider with a hint of bad intentions.
Whoa! Sarah got to you, didn’t she? I was hoping you would say no.
Why the hell not? Thanks to Ante Whitner, I had to exchange my Legacy Women’s Championship belt for a neck brace and a six month vacation. Schneider and Demon tried to do worse to you.
Daphne makes no attempt to hide the disgust and anger in her voice. It won’t take much to push her over the edge.
So that justifies becoming just like them?
No. It justifies being prepared. Sarah made a good point: we don’t have to use the bat but its nice to know we have it if we need it. And I have a strong feeling that we will need it.
I don’t like it. I hope we never have to use it. I hope we take out Trace Demon clean, put on a f***ing awesome show, and convert more than a few people to the cause.
I hope so too but if it doesn’t work then we may have to beat some sense into people. You have to admit, the bat will come in handy then.
I shake my head. Here we are so close to getting everything we wanted and Daphne is ready to give up, to join in the carnage, and enjoy herself while she does so.
Maybe I should leave her in the locker room. When Trace tries his usual crap, which we all know he will, Daphne could lose control and cost the revolution everything.
People like to say win at any cost but that is bullsh*t. A win by dirty tactics is no better than a loss for the revolution.
I hope Sarah is happy now. I feel dirty. I need a shower.
Parts Unknown : Jan. 23, 2018 : All or Nothing
How you doing, Trace?
Or maybe I should call you Pluto.
No, I don’t mean the only Disney character that wasn’t deemed worthy of a speaking part. You love to talk way too much to ever be that Pluto.
I’m referring to the astronomical entity. You know the one I’m talking about. Pluto was once one of the nine planets orbiting our sun but then it got downgraded to a meaningless hunk of rock floating in space, no more important than the millions of nameless rocks in the asteroid belt.
Just like you.
There was a time when you were a major force in the WFWF. You competed for and won titles. You faced off against hall of famers and beat them. You were somebody.
You’ve been downgraded. Now you run around shooting off your mouth like you’re still important but truth be told you’re not. While Bishop and Brennan were playing hot potato with the WFWF championship you wouldn’t even enter the ring, preferring instead to attack your opponents from behind with a baseball bat so that they couldn’t compete.
One more thing happened. You lost… to me… in a street fight!
You knew I wasn’t gonna’ let that one slip by. I beat you. I started this whole downward slide you’ve been in. Not Drakz or Dean or Bishop or Brennan. I did it. Someone who was, in your own words, a mistake to even sign to a WFWF contract.
You’re desperate to reverse your fortunes. So desperate that you went to Lila Sleater and volunteered to be her errand boy. Holy sh*t! How embarrassing for the former owner and king sh*t of the WFWF to go to Lila on bended knee and ask for a favor. Tell me this errand boy, does she take cream and sugar in her coffee?
But seriously, how does it feel knowing that the only way you could get into the main event at All or Nothing was to hitch your wagon to my train?
(Did I mix my metaphors? Sorry. It happens when I get excited. I’m sure you get my point.)
Make no mistake about it, this is MY main event. You’re just a bit player in the revolution’s march to victory. It’s your role to lose so I can be GM for a day and show everybody how the WFWF should be run.
Let that sink in. Trace Demon is a bit player in somebody else’s story.
You have been the most vocal opponent of the revolution. You injured Joe Bishop in one of your more cowardly displays of violence. Now you think you can take me out and end the revolution.
End the revolution?
Do you actually believe your own bullsh*t? You don’t care about the revolution. You only care about Trace Demon.
For you this match is about one thing: getting redemption by beating your biggest mistake and reviving your career. You pin me and everyone forgets how I choked you out. The King of Demons will once again sit on his throne.
That’s not how this ends.
The only way the referee will raise your arm is to test whether you have fallen asleep yet while I have you locked in the Dasochoku.
Deja vu mother f***er!
You remember all that sh*t you talked at the contract signing? No? That’s okay, nobody else does either. In one ear and out the other. All that mattered was that as long as you were talking you were the center of attention. Just like whenever you swing your baseball bat at someone’s leg.
You’re the obnoxious neighborhood kid running around flailing your arms wildly screaming “Look at me!”, which people do long enough to think “Somebody needs to take that brat behind the woodshed.” and then go back to whatever they were doing before you acted like a fool.
It’s never been about the wrestling for you. It's always about having all eyes on you. That’s why you don’t care about sportsmanship and rules. They are inconveniences that get in the way of the Trace Demon show.
That’s why you’re going to lose. I am a wrestler. I am a fighter. I am the Lethal Weapon! I’m going to take you behind the woodshed and beat the foolishness out of you.
I care about how I perform in the ring and am constantly working to get better. The spotlight you can’t live without is icing on the cake for me. I’d do this if we were fighting in a high school gymnasium in front of fifty people. I like to test my combat skills against any and all comers. I like to work long hours in the gym honing all of my skills to perfection, fully aware that perfection can never be achieved.
So while you spent the last few months taking batting practice and scheming how to get your revenge against me, I’ve been improving. I’ve had plenty of time to build on who I was when we last met. I’m more than ready to teach you another lesson if you’ll just pay attention.
A year ago you easily beat me.
Six months ago I barely beat you.
At All or Nothing I complete the progression and show just how far I’ve surpassed you. I will beat you and it won’t even be close.
Trace Demon, the king of the sh*t show is dead.
All hail the kingslayer… the Lethal Weapon Frank Lynn!
Cambridge, MA : November 14, 2017
A typical cemetery: wrought iron fence with an ornate gate surrounding row after row of tombstones nestled in meticulously groomed grass that would make the groundskeeper at Augusta proud. A few above ground mausoleums are scattered about for those too rich to be worm food. Go through the gate, up the main road, take the second right, go two hundred yards, and make your way three rows deep. That’s where you will find Frank Lynn in front of a tombstone bearing the name Laura Lynn.
Frank is sitting cross logged having a quiet conversation, the one-sided kind that you can only have in a cemetery. Talk to yourself for this long anywhere else and people will purposely cross a street to avoid close contact with the crazy person because, as we all know, crazy is contagious.
Hello Ma. Sorry I haven’t visited sooner. Life’s been busy. I have news, lots to catch you up on.
This might come as a surprise. Dad’s alive. I sh*t you not. Even had a DNA test to prove it. He showed up a few months after… well you know. That’s the good news.
The rest is all bad news. He’s a South American drug lord. Well, “alleged” drug lord. You know the old saying: where there’s smoke, there’s fire. Where Juan Carlos goes, there is always a thick black cloud of smoke. As for how he became a drug lord, he didn’t tell and I didn’t ask.
What did he want? According to him, he never knew he had a son until recently and he wanted to be a part of my life. Gave me some BS about helping me take over the WFWF. I didn’t buy it. He came off too slick, used car salesman slick if you know what I mean. I politely ask him to get bent. I never had a father as a kid, don’t need one as an adult, and even if I did, he didn’t fit the bill. He left. Flew back to Brazil in his private jet and I haven’t heard from him since. I think it’s for the best.
Here’s some really good news. You’re going to be a grandmother! Sarah’s pregnant. The baby is due early summer. Don’t you worry, I’m going to do right by the kid. No disappearing act for me. If it’s a girl, I want to name her Laura. I hope Sarah agrees.
It sucks that you never got to meet Sarah. You’d like her. Intelligent, head strong, independent… a lot like you.
Frank pauses, as most people do, when they run out of gossip and get to the real reason for their visit. There is one aspect of talking to the dead that everybody knows but nobody speaks of. They are the best people to confess to. You don’t even have to ask, you just know the dead will neither judge you nor reveal your deepest, darkest secrets five minutes later to anybody who will listen. And so, like many a graveside visitor before him, Frank bares his soul to his departed mother.
I wish you were still here with us. I really want to ask you a question. Why did you give me the Best of WFWF DVD set? I could have had a long career in MMA, living in blissful ignorance of how unhappy I really was at the time. Watching those DVDs showed me that there was a combat sport that offered something more than just boring fight after boring fight.
I can’t deny it. I get a rush like nothing else when I walk out to the ring with the music, lights, pyro, and tens of thousands of fans cheering me on. I get to do things in a wrestling ring that you cannot do in amateur wrestling or the octagon. I’d get fired in an instant if I tried a frog splash off the top of the octagon in the Guerrilla Fighting League. Probably get blackballed from MMA entirely. Do a frog splash in a WFWF match and you get cheered. They want you to do it again, leaping higher and landing harder each time. It’s a high and it’s very addictive.
I enjoy being a pro wrestler. It’s a roller coaster ride for sure, but the adrenaline junkie in me feeds on this sh*t. I can’t get enough. The WFWF is the only place I can do what makes me happy.
Did you know that before I did? Is that why you gave me the DVDs? Was the gift your way of giving me a push in the right direction?
If so, then thank you. And f*** you too. Because the dream is also a nightmare. You watched more wrestling than me. You knew the kind of people who work in the WFWF ring; the twisted psychopaths who use the WFWF to live out their sadistic fantasies in front of the largest audience possible.
Maybe you thought I could beat them.
Maybe you thought I could avoid them.
Maybe you thought I was one of them.
God, I hope it isn’t that one. I’d like to think you thought more highly of me than that.
Maybe you thought I could change them.
That’s more in line with how you thought. You were always helping people, whether as a nurse or a volunteer for the Red Cross or counseling drug addicts at the free clinic. You raised me well, maybe a little too well for my own good.
Less than a year into my WFWF career it became obvious to me there were problems. I tried to make the WFWF a safer, better place. I’m still trying. It’s hard, really f***ing hard. Every way I turn there is someone getting in the way of the revolution, trying to put me down. So much resistance from so many who are willing to do anything they can to stop me from taking the sh*t show out of the WFWF. ANYTHING! They play dirty and there are no lines they won’t cross.
They got Josh. They got Joe. At International Assault, the bastards got me.
I knew it had to happen eventually. I thought I would be ready for it but Phillip Schneider caught me by surprise. I didn’t expect it during the Gauntlet and I damn sure didn’t expect it to be so savage. The son of a bitch virtually crucified me like Christ on the cross paying for all of our sins.
But I’m not a messiah. I found that out the hard way. Before I passed out from hanging on those hooks in my back all I could think is how much I wanted to wrap my hands around Schneider’s neck and squeeze until he stopped breathing. I wanted to kill him with my bare hands. I would have done it too if I could have freed myself. I can’t promise I won’t do it the next time I see his ugly face.
So much for the great revolutionary leader, eh? I’m just as ugly as everybody else. How quickly I forgot about turning the other cheek. Somebody hurts me, really hurts me bad, and all I care about is hurting them back. I saw red then and I’m still seeing red now. I don’t want honorable combat. I don’t even want justice. I want vengeance. I want to see the lights go out in his eyes as I send whatever passes for his soul straight to hell. I’m not a hero, I’m an action movie cliché.
Don’t tell Brennan my halo is broken. He’d have a field day with that for sure. Kinda’ funny that the man who says I’m beneath his notice can’t stop talking about me… or you for that matter. He got f***ing lucky at the gauntlet, not having to fight me. The condescending prick is another one who makes me see red.
Damn it! Do you see how tempting it is to turn into another bitter WFWF wrestler on a never ending quest for violent retribution?
I have to be strong. I have to keep up the fight. The revolution must win. I can’t let anyone else go through what I did… what I am still going through now. I can’t let the twisted SOBs corrupt me. I have to fight this urge to sink to their level.
I will not become a monster.
I wish you were here. I miss you so damn much.
Frank stands up and looks to the right at the empty plot next to his mother’s, paid in advance and patiently waiting for the day it is filled and adorned with a tombstone bearing the name Francis Thomas Lynn.
Not yet. The Whitners, Schneiders, and Demons of the world are trying but I’m still kicking.
WFWF All or Nothing RP
The Slippery Slope
featuring Frank Lynn
”I walked along that slippery slope where if you fail through lack of faith, you sell your soul to the devil.” - Michelle Shocked
Boston, MA : December 1, 2017
There are aspects to being a silent co-owner of Legacy that I do not like. Today is a perfect example. Abraham was already unhappy with me for getting his business manager pregnant, which was cutting into her work hours as well as making her personality more… volatile shall we say. Hormones. Whatcha’ gonna’ do? But that was something he could get over because, well, what kind of bastard would hold having a baby against Sarah? Certainly not Abraham, an old softy at heart. His complaining took the form of good natured ribbing and we were all cool with it.
The same cannot be said for getting his Women’s Champion injured so bad that she cannot wrestle forcing Abraham to strip her of the title. It’s at least partially my fault he just lost a popular main eventer and has to scramble to crown a new women’s champion. He gave me a tongue lashing and I sat there taking it because I knew he was right. Daphne got injured fighting my revolution.
I should have had done something to protect Daphne. That was part of our deal from the start. She would be my manager as long as it doesn’t interfere with her own career in Legacy. I failed her. She wasn’t necessarily an innocent bystander but that doesn’t change the fact that she took a bullet for me. Collateral damage leading to a guilty conscience.
I sat there quietly nodding my head trying not to look sad and pathetic while Abraham reminded me that my actions have ramifications beyond my own career in the WFWF. Abraham gave me what I can only imagine was the disappointed father act I never got as a kid. After rambling on for a half hour he finally got to his point. He made me swear it would all be worth it. He made me swear that Trace Demon was going down and the revolution would bring about change so that nobody else’s career would be interrupted if not ended the way Daphne and mine were at International Assault.
Way to turn that guilt around into motivation, not that I needed more motivation. I haven’t been able to talk sense into a single member of the WFWF. Now I am down to my last option. Hit people over the head with a two ton brick and force them to see that there is a better way. Beat Trace Demon, run a WFWF show the right way, and force these dumb f***s to see the light.
***
My mood was down enough when Scott showed up. He was still upset with me over delivering an ultimatum to Lila Sleater. I hadn’t bothered to discuss it with him first and he felt left out of the loop. I need to repair our working relationship because without Scott the revolution wouldn’t have reached this point. It was his PR expertise that gave me the opportunity to deliver an ultimatum that Lila had to accept. Without all of Scott’s work rallying the fans and the media to our cause, Lila could have told me to go f*** myself and that would have been the end of it.
I should have discussed my big idea with him first but honestly, I didn’t want to risk him talking me out of it. Same reason I didn’t tell anybody. I know this can work and didn’t want anybody to talk me out of it. There would be no resistance if I could deliver it as a fait accompli. That’s what I thought.
Too bad I was wrong. Bridges were burning. I had to put the fires out before it was too late.
Scott and I borrowed Abraham’s office for the meeting. The mood was cordial but frosty.
How long are you going to hold it against me?
From business perspective I’m already over it. I’ll do whatever I have to to make sure you’re a prominent WFWF superstar and your merch sells. It’s my job and I’m damn good at it.
What about personally? You’ve become a good friend. I didn’t f*** that up, did I?
You tried. You didn’t trust me. That hurts. You’re gonna’ have to give me some time.
I won’t keep you out of the loop again. I promise.
We’ll see.
There’s hope. I didn’t completely screw things up. I need all the friends I can get if the revolution is to succeed.
This is your meeting. What’s on your mind?
I saw what happened at International Assault. That was supposed to be your night and very well could have been if not for Phillip Schneider.
F*** Phillip Schneider.
It’s not all bad news. David Brennan never beat you. The match never happened. We can use that down the road to get you a proper title match.
But for now we are stuck in the DB f’n WF. Ugh.
I’ll never forget looking out into the crowd and seeing all those damn Brennan t-shirts. Db f’n WF everywhere I looked. How many of those fans were wearing Join the Revolution! shirts a few short weeks ago? It burns even more because it’s all my fault! I’m in the wrong business. I should be in marketing. I wonder if I can make a claim to some of the sales profits. Would it burn David to know he was financing the revolution?
True but you can’t do anything about it right now. As far as the gauntlet went, you have to admit it that your elimination has you rattled. Schneider had his way with you. I want to make sure you stay the course, keep your focus, and finish what you started.
You too? I already got an earful from Abraham.
I’ll spare you the pep talk from me. I’m not a wrestler so I’m not sure how much good it would do anyway. I’ve got a better idea.
Scott puts his laptop on the desk and takes a minute to open up Skype. A minute later, he smiles and turns the laptop around so I can see the screen.
Son of a b*tch. He is alive.
Hello Frank. Long time no see.
Hello Josh. Sorry I haven’t called. I’ve been busy.
”The Franchise” Joshua Dean looks good. Hair pulled back in a pony tail, beard neatly trimmed, dress shirt and tie, a suit jacket probably nearby hanging on a coat rack or slung over the back of his chair, a smile on his face, and a spark in his eyes.
I feel a pang of guilt that I haven’t called him. Or Joe Bishop either. Out of sight, out of mind is no excuse for ignoring the only friends I’ve made in the WFWF.
Me too. Rehab ain’t easy.
How’s it going? Will we be seeing you back in the ring soon?
When I’m ready. That’s all you’ll get out of me so drop it, ’kay?
I hope it’s soon. The revolution needs men like you. Someone has to stand up to the Trace Demon’s of the WFWF. I can’t do it alone.
You’re doing a good job of it. I’ve been watching. You’ve really impressed me.
Thanks. Is that all of your inspirational speech or is there more?
The smile fades from his face. I’m staring at Joshua Dean the mentor, ready to impart some wisdom on his student.
Like I said, I’ve been watching you and I like what I see. You’re one of the elite in the WFWF now. That is obvious because you’re drawing the attention of people who were ignoring you last year. Trace Demon volunteering to work with Lila Sleater just so he can wrestle you? Phillip Schneider crawling out from under his rock to assault you? David Brennan is even taking notice. He name drops you as often as he does anybody else. That’s their f***ed up way of showing respect. They don’t do any of that sh*t for Billy Broom or Griffin Chase, do they?
Do I have your respect too?
You’ve always had my respect, even as far back as when I chased you out of the ring with a baseball bat. You just needed to smooth out your rough edges.
Feel free to stop bringing up the bat incident. Yes, I was acting like an ass clown and yes, you and Drakz taught me that there is no place for clowns in the WFWF.
Heh, sorry. Still butthurt over it, eh? Admit it though, you are a better wrestler because of it.
Yep. Butthurt is fairly accurate. Odd turn for Josh to take in his pep talk. A turn I don’t think I’m in the mood for right now.
I’ll give you that. So where are you going with this? Do you have a point?
Always the impatient one. Okay, I’ll cut right to it. I’m not here to be your cheerleader. You don’t need me or anybody else to tell you that you can beat Trace Demon. You’ve already done it once. Just go out there and do it again. In fact, that’s what Trace Demon is so damn scared of. He’s not used to being an underdog and right now, that is exactly what he is in this match with you.
I agree. He needs this match more than I do because his light is fading while mine is getting brighter. I will beat him and then the real work starts. The revolution takes center stage as I get to be GM for a day.
And that’s where you need to pump the brakes.
Huh? Whaddya’ mean?
You aren’t the first person to try changing the WFWF and you won’t be the last. People have been trying to change the WFWF since you were in diapers. Nobody’s succeeded yet.
There is a sadness in Josh’s expression, the gleam in his eyes dimming just a bit. He came as close as anybody yet it wasn’t enough. I wonder how much he has changed while rehabbing his injuries. When he returns, will he be the same old Franchise?
Another motivation for the revolution. If I win, Josh can come back as he was - an elite wrestler and role model for future generations. If I lose and the revolution fails, he might return as another self centered ultra violent prick.
None of them pushed it as far as I have. None of them ever took over, even if it is just for one day. I’m not leading by example here. I will make them all see a better way.
Assuming you beat Trace Demon, then yes you will have pushed it farther than anybody else but let’s get real. You can tie a person down and force feed them liver and onions with a side of spinach for an entire day. It doesn’t mean that at the end of the day they will suddenly love liver, onions, and spinach. It’s more likely they will hate them even more and take it out on you for forcing them to eat it.
So you think the revolution will fail regardless of whether I win or lose?
Not necessarily. Maybe you do pull off a one in a million miracle and change a Demon or Schneider into a model citizen. I know them far better than you and I have my doubts. Scott warned me that you were putting everything into the revolution, perhaps too much. I want to be sure that you don’t equate the success of the revolution with your success. You can win and the revolution still lose. Are you prepared for that possibility?
There is a long silence as I mull Josh’s question over. Fact is, I haven’t given any thought to what happens if I win, run a show, and it doesn’t convert more wrestlers, suits, and fans to the revolution way of thinking. It would suck to put in all this work and have it amount to nothing.
Sorry, no. I am the revolution. I cannot accept anything less than total victory.
Honestly, no.
Then get prepared for it. The revolution can fail but that doesn’t mean you failed too. It’s okay to think of yourself first. Keep winning your matches because it puts the pressure on Lila to give you a title match against Brennan. That should be your main goal now. Winning a title. You are ready to be a champion. If you convert a few wrestlers along the way and the WFWF becomes a better place consider it a bonus.
Food for thought… I guess. I’ll keep it in mind but for now I’m beating Trace Demon for the revolution. I’ll worry about Brennan’s collection of belts after I deal with Trace… and Phillip Schneider too. As long as he is around, the revolution has work to do.
Don’t let the revolution distract you from the real goal - winning titles. Repeat after me: I don’t need the revolution, the revolution needs me.
Josh is playing therapy games with me. I can’t help but picture Al Franken sitting in front of a mirror in his dad sweater telling himself how great he is. I don’t see where this is going but I’ll play along.
I don’t need the revolution, the revolution needs me.
Good. Now keep saying it until you believe it. Because it’s true. You’ve come a long way in the past year. Don’t let the revolution hold you back from going even further.
It was good to talk to you Josh.
You can call me any time. Now get your ass into the gym and get to work. That’s how you beat Trace Demon. By being better prepared then he is.
The connection closes. I don’t like what Josh had to say. He is supposed to be one of the good guys so why spend all that time talking about the revolution coming up short? I don’t get it. Is he bitter over his injuries and inability to be a part of the revolution? Is he jealous of me succeeding where he failed?
He’s playing a game with me, a more subtle version of the bat incident. I hate being manipulated. I hate it even worse when I can’t figure out what the end game is.
One thing is for sure though. He believes I can beat Trace Demon again. So do I. Trace Demon is going down!
Framingham, MA : December 30, 2017
An Open Letter to the WFWF Universe
The contract has been signed… in blood!
Would you expect any less from the WFWF?
Trace Demon, the king of the sh*t show, is now its official defender while Frank Lynn, the leader of the revolution, is the evil invader storming the castle walls attempting a coup d’état.
That’s the story Lila Sleater would like you to believe. She couldn’t be more wrong, which says a lot since she makes a habit of being wrong.
Let me make it very clear. I’m fighting the revolution for everyone. For myself. For every WFWF wrestler past, present, and future. For Lila Sleater and the rest of the suits. For every single fan.
It amazes me that there is anybody who doesn’t see the need for reform. The fact that three of the last four WFWF World Heavyweight Champions have been put out of action by serious injuries incurred under dubious circumstances should be enough to convince event my most ardent opposition.
Drakz taken out by Michael Kyzer, who wasn’t even in the match. Joshua Dean taken out by Ante Whitner in a savage attack outside the ring that shouldn’t have happened if the ref’s actually did their jobs. Joe Bishop taken out by Trace Demon when all he did was come to the ring to speak to the fans.
It could be four out of four if Kyzer continues his games with David Brennan. What kind of sick f** is he to use children against David Brennan? If David survives Kyzer and manages to take him out, he will be doing the revolution’s work. Thanks Davey boy. Your t-shirt is in the mail.
I don’t mean to diminish the others who have also fallen to injury just because they weren’t former world champions. No one is immune to the sh*t show, not returning stars like the Future and Devilkiller or promising rookies like Hugh Jass. It simply has more impact when it is the cream of the crop, the main event marquee superstars who are the victims. This isn’t Game of Thrones or the The Walking Dead, it’s the WFWF. Win or lose, everyone should come back next show to fight again. Whether you love or hate a superstar, you want to see them wrestle.
I got a first hand taste of the sh*t show at International Assault. Try harder next time Schneider because I’m still standing. It wasn’t even you who sidelined me temporarily, it was Ante Whitner who gave me the concussion that kept me from wrestling.
So why does this sh*t keep happening?
So Trace Demon can remain the center of attention? So Phillip Schneider can showcase his sadistic fetishes? So Michael Kyzer can feel worthy of his nickname as the “God of (who gives a) F***”? So Lila can book ultra-violent blow off matches? So the fans can chant “Holy sh*t” until they lose their voices?
Sounds pretty lame when I put it like that, doesn’t it?
I think the real reason is simple: people are lazy. It’s easier to accept the status quo than it is to change it.
F*** the status quo!
It’s not wrestling. It’s not entertainment. It’s a sh*t show. You want to see gratuitous violence perpetrated by remorseless asshats, go watch A Clockwork Orange.
Unfortunately, my opinion puts me in a precarious position. God help anyone who speaks out against the sh*t show. You become a pariah and a target. You can count your friends on one hand while you need a spreadsheet to keep track of your enemies.
But there is hope.
I know this because a year ago nobody noticed or cared about me. I was a snot-nosed rookie running his mouth that couldn’t win the big one… or even the medium one. My limited success came at the expense of wrestlers who barely rate a footnote in the annals of the WFWF like LeeRoy Jenkins, Danté Brooks, and Big McLargehuge.
Then something happened this past year. I found religion, so to speak, in the revolution. What started as a few sermons by Joe Bishop about the ills of the WFWF became a full fledged movement for reform with me as its leader. With a cause to fight for that was bigger than myself, I started to win. Righteous indignation is a great motivator. I got noticed. People became afraid of me both as an opponent they could not take lightly and a leader of a revolution they could not ignore.
In other words, I got too good. So good that the Demons and Schneiders of the WFWF had to take direct action. I represent a new WFWF, an end to their way of conducting business. They are afraid of me because they either fall in line or I will end them.
I could use Schneider’s attack on me as a reason to resort to equal levels of violence and depravity. It would be easy to sink to his level. But I won’t because to do so means he wins. I become one of them and the revolution dies.
I must double my resolve and stand my ground.
I will win… my way! The right way!
Because the revolution will succeed.
The sh*t show will end.
Framingham, MA : December 31, 2017
Sarah made a fuss all day about this special dinner. She spent hours slaving away in the kitchen cooking the perfect meal. The table was set to the standards of a five star restaurant. Doctor Claw was dosed with catnip and exiled to the bedroom so we could be completely alone.
Seemed like overkill to me. I’m a burger and fries guy at heart. I question how much a cat could bother us. All the cat does is eat, sh*t, and sleep - mostly sleep. But I played along. Best not to risk the wraith of a hormonally driven pregnant woman who was doing her best to prove that “morning sickness” was actually an abbreviation for “morning, noon, and night sickness”.
Imagine my surprise when all we talked about was idle chit chat of no great consequence. I anticipated talk of baby names, living arrangements, and marriage. What I got was the weather, getting new tires before the first winter snowstorm, and lots of gossip about the people at Legacy.
In hindsight I should have seen it for what it was: the quiet before the storm.
After dessert, Sarah disappeared briefly, returning with a long narrow box wrapped in Christmas paper with a gold ribbon.
If that’s a Christmas present, you’re a little late.
Are you complaining about getting an extra gift? Open it. It won’t bite.
I lift the lid off the box, peel back the crinkly red paper lining the inside, and pull out a black aluminum baseball bat. I stand up and take a few practice swings. Yep, it’s a baseball bat. Okay… why?
Thanks. Does this mean you want me to join the Legacy softball team?
We don’t have a softball team.
A simple answer delivered in a somber tone usually reserved for I sentence you to die by lethal injection. So serious. Scary serious. My balls try to crawl inside me.
Then why? I haven’t played baseball since little league.
It’s for your match against Trace Demon. And for the next time Phillip Schneider attacks you. And anybody else who tries any dirty tricks on you.
That’s not how I play the game. That’s not the revolution way.
F*** THE GODDAMN REVOLUTION!
My dick just joined my balls somewhere in the vicinity of my spleen.
I am not going to watch you be criminally assaulted and taken away in an ambulance again. Stop trying to save those sick f***s. They don’t want you to save them. They aren’t even worth the effort of trying to save.
They will break you before they will change for you. Your f***ing revolution has put a target on you that they cannot resist shooting at.
Look at what Whitner did to Daphne. Look at what Schneider and Trace Demon did to you. How can you not see that they are too far gone? The best way to deal with them is euthanasia.
That’s…
No! Don’t speak. Listen.
You can talk all you want about changing the WFWF. I’m not trying to stop you politicking for change but when it is time for you to step in the ring f*** the revolution. You do whatever it takes to protect yourself. Trace Demon IS going to bring HIS bat to the ring and he will find a way to use it on you. Your fists are no match for his bat.
You will take that bat with you every time you go to the ring. When Trace Demon tries to break your knee, you WILL block his swing and take one of your own… right at his goddamn face! If that sick f*** Schneider shows up trying to cut you or burn you or worse, you shove that bat so far up his ass that it knocks all his teeth out.
In other words, you defend yourself and you make sure the assh*les are the ones taking the ambulance ride to the emergency room. Not you. Never you!
You can speak now.
I’m not sure I want to. I’d prefer to run away, maybe hop in the Impala and drive at ludicrous speeds until I hit the Pacific Ocean.
I can’t do that. I will beat them but I have to do it the right way. A baseball bat isn’t the answer.
If you don’t arm yourself, you won’t be a leader of a revolution. You’ll be a dead martyr for a lost cause.
I love you. I’m carrying your child. That gives me some say in how you handle your business. If you won’t do it for yourself, then do it for me.
I want you to come home after your matches, not go to the hospital. I want you to be healthy and physically able to take care of me and our child, not become a cripple whose diapers I’ll have to change too. I don’t want to see you hurt. I can’t handle it.
Her fury has given way to tears. I try to give her my handkerchief but she brushes it away and pleads with me, her voice cracking.
Take the bat. You don’t have to use it. Just have it with you in case you need it. Daphne can hide it under her coat so nobody will know.
I’m going to lose this argument no matter what. Part of me wants to lose. The part that also wants to strangle Phillip Schneider the first chance I get. The part I’m trying desperately to bury so deep down that it never sees the light of day.
Sarah’s idea sounds reasonable but this is how it starts. The road to hell is paved with good intentions. If I bring a baseball bat to the ring but don’t use it, does that make me a bad guy or smart guy? And what happens if I do use it? How far down the slippery slope will that take me? Too far to climb back up from?
Why is this so f***ing hard? Why can’t I just go to a show and wrestle a good clean match without all this bullsh*t?
Most importantly, how do I appease a very angry and worried woman who means the world to me and won’t take no for an answer?
I cave. That’s how.
Okay… okay. I’ll do it. I can accept Daphne carrying the bat under her coat just in case we need it. I’ll ask Daphne but I won’t force her. If she agrees, we can ask the Legacy seamstress to sew in a pocket or some straps or something to hold it in place. If she says no, then it’s not going to happen.
Daphne’s a smart cookie. She’ll say yes.
I’m sure she will follow up with Daphne too. It may not be all that hard of a sell given what happened to Daphne during the gauntlet. Her fiery Latina blood has been at full boil thanks to the injury she suffered from Ante’s vicious pile driver.
I hope Sarah is happy. I feel dirty. I need a shower.
Framingham, MA : January 10, 2018
Daphne does a pirouette, her new coat swirling around her. She wobbles a little at the end, showing the effects of the neck injury and surgery. The stumble doesn’t seem to bother her though as she is all smiles.
I like it.
What’s not to like? It’s an ankle length black leather coat with red fur around the collar and wrists. On the back, her old simplistic red panther logo has been replaced by a much more graphic and detailed image of a snarling panther with blood dripping from its fangs.
It’s not just a new look. Check this out.
Daphne’s reaches inside the coat and pulls out a baseball bat, the same one that Sarah gave me ten days ago. Her smile grows wider with a hint of bad intentions.
Whoa! Sarah got to you, didn’t she? I was hoping you would say no.
Why the hell not? Thanks to Ante Whitner, I had to exchange my Legacy Women’s Championship belt for a neck brace and a six month vacation. Schneider and Demon tried to do worse to you.
Daphne makes no attempt to hide the disgust and anger in her voice. It won’t take much to push her over the edge.
So that justifies becoming just like them?
No. It justifies being prepared. Sarah made a good point: we don’t have to use the bat but its nice to know we have it if we need it. And I have a strong feeling that we will need it.
I don’t like it. I hope we never have to use it. I hope we take out Trace Demon clean, put on a f***ing awesome show, and convert more than a few people to the cause.
I hope so too but if it doesn’t work then we may have to beat some sense into people. You have to admit, the bat will come in handy then.
I shake my head. Here we are so close to getting everything we wanted and Daphne is ready to give up, to join in the carnage, and enjoy herself while she does so.
Maybe I should leave her in the locker room. When Trace tries his usual crap, which we all know he will, Daphne could lose control and cost the revolution everything.
People like to say win at any cost but that is bullsh*t. A win by dirty tactics is no better than a loss for the revolution.
I hope Sarah is happy now. I feel dirty. I need a shower.
Parts Unknown : Jan. 23, 2018 : All or Nothing
How you doing, Trace?
Or maybe I should call you Pluto.
No, I don’t mean the only Disney character that wasn’t deemed worthy of a speaking part. You love to talk way too much to ever be that Pluto.
I’m referring to the astronomical entity. You know the one I’m talking about. Pluto was once one of the nine planets orbiting our sun but then it got downgraded to a meaningless hunk of rock floating in space, no more important than the millions of nameless rocks in the asteroid belt.
Just like you.
There was a time when you were a major force in the WFWF. You competed for and won titles. You faced off against hall of famers and beat them. You were somebody.
You’ve been downgraded. Now you run around shooting off your mouth like you’re still important but truth be told you’re not. While Bishop and Brennan were playing hot potato with the WFWF championship you wouldn’t even enter the ring, preferring instead to attack your opponents from behind with a baseball bat so that they couldn’t compete.
One more thing happened. You lost… to me… in a street fight!
You knew I wasn’t gonna’ let that one slip by. I beat you. I started this whole downward slide you’ve been in. Not Drakz or Dean or Bishop or Brennan. I did it. Someone who was, in your own words, a mistake to even sign to a WFWF contract.
You’re desperate to reverse your fortunes. So desperate that you went to Lila Sleater and volunteered to be her errand boy. Holy sh*t! How embarrassing for the former owner and king sh*t of the WFWF to go to Lila on bended knee and ask for a favor. Tell me this errand boy, does she take cream and sugar in her coffee?
But seriously, how does it feel knowing that the only way you could get into the main event at All or Nothing was to hitch your wagon to my train?
(Did I mix my metaphors? Sorry. It happens when I get excited. I’m sure you get my point.)
Make no mistake about it, this is MY main event. You’re just a bit player in the revolution’s march to victory. It’s your role to lose so I can be GM for a day and show everybody how the WFWF should be run.
Let that sink in. Trace Demon is a bit player in somebody else’s story.
You have been the most vocal opponent of the revolution. You injured Joe Bishop in one of your more cowardly displays of violence. Now you think you can take me out and end the revolution.
End the revolution?
Do you actually believe your own bullsh*t? You don’t care about the revolution. You only care about Trace Demon.
For you this match is about one thing: getting redemption by beating your biggest mistake and reviving your career. You pin me and everyone forgets how I choked you out. The King of Demons will once again sit on his throne.
That’s not how this ends.
The only way the referee will raise your arm is to test whether you have fallen asleep yet while I have you locked in the Dasochoku.
Deja vu mother f***er!
You remember all that sh*t you talked at the contract signing? No? That’s okay, nobody else does either. In one ear and out the other. All that mattered was that as long as you were talking you were the center of attention. Just like whenever you swing your baseball bat at someone’s leg.
You’re the obnoxious neighborhood kid running around flailing your arms wildly screaming “Look at me!”, which people do long enough to think “Somebody needs to take that brat behind the woodshed.” and then go back to whatever they were doing before you acted like a fool.
It’s never been about the wrestling for you. It's always about having all eyes on you. That’s why you don’t care about sportsmanship and rules. They are inconveniences that get in the way of the Trace Demon show.
That’s why you’re going to lose. I am a wrestler. I am a fighter. I am the Lethal Weapon! I’m going to take you behind the woodshed and beat the foolishness out of you.
I care about how I perform in the ring and am constantly working to get better. The spotlight you can’t live without is icing on the cake for me. I’d do this if we were fighting in a high school gymnasium in front of fifty people. I like to test my combat skills against any and all comers. I like to work long hours in the gym honing all of my skills to perfection, fully aware that perfection can never be achieved.
So while you spent the last few months taking batting practice and scheming how to get your revenge against me, I’ve been improving. I’ve had plenty of time to build on who I was when we last met. I’m more than ready to teach you another lesson if you’ll just pay attention.
A year ago you easily beat me.
Six months ago I barely beat you.
At All or Nothing I complete the progression and show just how far I’ve surpassed you. I will beat you and it won’t even be close.
Trace Demon, the king of the sh*t show is dead.
All hail the kingslayer… the Lethal Weapon Frank Lynn!