Post by Drakz on Jul 16, 2018 17:23:23 GMT -5
“But honestly, I’m not sure you even need to worry about that kind of thing. At your age? How old even are you?”
Sh*t. I barely even remember how old I am? Who’s honestly keeping count? I suppose this kid’s still full of spunk though. Probably counts the f*cking days.
26.......There’s a history of it in my family though.
“Mum or Dad’s side?”
“Mom’s.”
As per usual I know sweet F.A. about what we’re riffing on, which, for the record, is Deep Vein Thrombosis. But many years of getting caught out has taught me to just talk with confidence and saps will believe you.
Oh. Who’s this sap?
He’s the short straw that has to babysit me in the car park this go around. Every time it’s someone different, which leads me to thinking that maybe they’ve started sub-contracting security staff locally, instead of keeping a full team on the pay roll. F*cking cheapskates. So short sighted as well. Don’t they know that sub-contracting almost always winds up costing a company more than maintaining a steady staff? Oh, wait, sh*t. He’s looking really concerned. I must have left an awfully long silence after a pertinent question regarding his health, or lack there of.
“Well, I reckon you’ll……”
“Gentlemen.”
“……excuse me?”
I f*cking hate that! Who the hell has the audacity to just walk over to a conversation and proclaim their input more important? I mean…..I know who. I recognise her voice, and heard her squelching her way towards us before she so much as opened her mouth.
“Can’t you see we’re having a conversation here for f*ck sake?”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I thought you were looking for a job? I guess not.”
A what?!
She tries to play it all coy and turns to walk away.
“A what?!”
She stops. Even through the back of her head I know she’s smiling to herself. Got a big flopping marlin on the line, ready to be opened up. Jesus, she’s not even going to turn back around before she starts talking is she? Did someone buy her improv classes for her birthday?
”A job. You do still want to work here…..right?”
“There it is. There it f*cking is. Please Ms Sleater take my little balls and keep them with the rest of your collection. Urgh. Don’t give her the satisfaction.”
“No?”
“You know I f*cking do. Drop the amateur dramatics Lila. Can we go and discuss this somewhere more civilised? I feel like a God damn trick talking about ‘work’ out the back of whatever this butt-f*ck town calls its arena.”
She looks back at me and laughs through her nose, clearly enjoying the idea of me being a piece of meat she’s about to bore holes in to.
“Come on then.”
And off she goes, back in to the arena, her heels clicking across the tarmac while everything else about her just squelches. Such a gross lizard of a woman. I watch her for a moment before following like the well trained pet I’ve been forced to be.
“Hey man, you were saying?”
“About?”
“The disease running on my Mom’s side…..”
“F*ck kid. I don’t know. You’ll probably die. Wait, no that’s wrong of me to say. You’ll definitely die. But then, so will I. So will she. It’s a race to the bottom. So what if you get a bit bloaty and clotted on the way down?”
“Errrrr”
Why was this clod entrusted solely with keeping me at bay? I fear I’m being underestimated these days.
“Peace & f*ckin’ my brother.
Oi, Sleater. Hold the door?”
She stands at the door, sighing, probably realising this isn’t a good idea. All the same though I skip toward her yapping like a dog. BLAH. No, not Dog. Any subservient, domesticated animal but Dog.
I clear my throat and for the first time in well over 18 months I enter a WFWF building…… Legally.
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Home Comings
(A.K.A. How the End Began)
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I’d like to say I was relishing soaking up the sights and smells of being backstage at a wrestling show, but honestly? It still just stinks of testosterone and looks like a f*cking county fair with a budget. This certainly isn’t the part I’ve missed.
It’s not long before I’m shown into an office and now I start to get a little excited. Outside of being in the ring THIS is the fun I’ve been missing. Flexing my vocabulary to get my own way. So come on Lila, open wide. Or, would you rather I take the first load?
“So then massa, what’s the story in Balamory? Why now have you decided to renege on your previous decision? I’m assuming that offering me a job does in fact mean as an active wrestler? Because if this is some gung-ho way of trying to squeeze me in to an administrative role then I’ll show myself out.”
She’s pacing. I hate a woman who paces. It just looks like they’re jonesing.
“Drakz, as you well know I don’t think it wise for you to be an active competitor here. For whatever reason a part of me is looking out for your well being, whilst the rest of me just fears the eventual law suit when you inevitably end up back in a wheelchair. For good this time.”
I open my mouth to retort with something hilarious. I’m not sure what just yet, but I guarantee it would have been razor sharp. She doesn’t let it happen.
“Just let me say my bit and then I’ll open the floor to questions, okay?”
My hands go up, deferring the aforementioned zinger of the subconscious for now.
“But your persistence, in turning up to every single damn show, has made it clear to me that simply……you don’t give a sh*t about your health….do you?”
Did the floor open? I sense that may have been rhetorical.
“No wife. No kids. No pets. No family. No responsibilities. I’m not sure you even have any friends left.”
Alright. Jesus.
“No one to hold you back from whatever it is you want at any given moment, and it seems to me at this given moment……and the last 18 months worth of them….you want this.”
Palms up, she looks around the room. I assume she means the WFWF, not this flat pack excuse for an office space. But she’s only half right. Less than, in fact. I was fine with my seemingly forced retirement for a while. I’d made peace with it. Come to terms with the fact that there’s nothing left for me here. That was all before Mike reared his head though.
“So I’m supposed to let a guy cripple himself on MY show because he wants it? No. Of course your consistency brought the whole thing to the forefront of my mind, but it didn’t come close to changing it. You’ve got your old friend David to thank for that.”
Mr Brennan. As I live and breathe. I’m still failing to see how any amount of talking could sway someone as stubborn as our friend Lila Sleater though. I shift in my chair, crossing my legs the other way.
“He helped me see that in keeping you and Kyzer apart I’m only prolonging the inevitable, and what good is the inevitable to us if it doesn’t happen while our cameras are rolling?”
Wow. I know I should be happy, but that’s f*cking cold.
“You two are only going to kill each other elsewhere if I don’t help facilitate it. Right?”
Another rhetorical c*ck tease of a question. Let me just talk already!
“So call me an enabler. Call me a callous, money hungry leech. Call me whatever you like….”
Damn Sleater. For a mess of skin you’re getting me a little hot under the collar with all this dirty talk.
“……but I’m a shrewd businesswoman when the time calls for it. I’m willing to stick my neck out if I think the payoff could be worth it, and frankly, I don’t know that there’s ever been one more worthy of the risk.
But….”
A catch. Of course. She’s hardly going to let me just waltz in here and steal the hearts and minds of the world. She’s scratched my back (weak and herniated as it may be), so now I’ve got to scratch hers (flaky and flabby as I’m sure it is).
“I need something from you first. I need……a weapon.”
“Okay, f*ck this ‘I hold the floor’ bollocks. That was a lot to process, but now you’re asking me to what? Smuggle firearms for you? I mean, if that’s what it takes. I know a guy….”
“No. Not that kind of weapon, you moron. I need a weapon capable of resolving a recurring problem I’ve been having.”
There’s more than one type of weapon now?
“I need you. I need you to take care of someone for me.”
“You need me, a weapon, to take care of someone for you? Who? Your nan? Your cat? What are we talking here?”
“Do you always have to make everything so damn difficult?! Christ! I need you to take Frank Lynn down a peg or 12.”
“Help him with his washing?”
I’m grinning like a pederast in a playroom as I say it, and she knows full well I’m taking the p*ss at this stage. She finally sits down, opens her top drawer and puts a bottle of brown on the table. Then a glass. She starts to fill it and I cough. She glances up at me.
“One glass? Come now.”
Lila smirks, and out comes a second. There is no ‘cheers’ but I do nod at her just before the booze slips down into my empty belly.
“So let me get a few things straight. First of all, you’re wrong about me and my health. I started to really enjoy not feeling banged up all the time. Do you have any idea how many times I’ve been jumped by my colleagues? How many times, surplus to my actual contractually agreed upon fights, I’ve been bludgeoned, glassed, thrown off of things? Go on, just give me a ball park figure….”
“I don’t know. Erm, one hundr….”
“You f*cking numb nuts. It was rhetorical.”
“You asked for a ball park figure!?!”
“And?”
She downs what’s left of her drink. Steady those nerves my dear, it’s going to be a wild old ride you’ve set us on.
“As I was saying. My body has been…..how do you say it?
‘F*cked’, for the longest of times. Hell, I won and defended the WFWF World Heavyweight Championship for over 500 days whilst nursing a career threatening injury. So if I said I didn’t care about my health then I suppose it would only be a half truth. I’m not too fussed about sustaining it, but damn if I don’t feel f*cking great at the moment. The only bruise on my entire body is from walking into the edge of a coffee table.
I haven’t bled at all in weeks and I’ve not limped across a room in months.”
“So why throw all of that away to come back?”
“Because I’ve got work to do, and in my line of work that means getting hurt along the way.”
“No one’s forcing you to come back to work you know? You could stay home.”
“What? Take my retirement Rolex and just roast myself on a beach somewhere?”
“I mean, why not? Sounds nice to me.”
“Of course it does. It sounds nice to anyone else, but none of them have the baggage I’m lugging around. It’s mighty hard to lay back on a sun lounger with a f*cking great knife in your back Lila.”
She knows exactly what I’m talking about, and honestly? I think she understands. F*ck, if you can’t empathise with a guy who’s been betrayed by his best friend, and nearly been killed by him twice, then I think it’s you who needs to check what’s in that baggage of yours.
“So, are you actually going to give me what I want once I’ve run this little errand for you?”
“Well, that depends on exactly what it is you’re gonna ask for.”
“Just Michael Kyzer. Any way you want. Skewered. Dry Roasted. Served on a f*cking bed of couscous. I’m not picky. I just want a chance to finish things………..and if it pleases, make you a sh*t tonne of money in the process.”
“Make us a sh*t tonne of money.”
“Hell, I won’t turn it down, but I’d do it for free should the occasion call for it.”
I notice a glimmer in her eye.
“F*ck you. Pay me.”
The glimmer fades right away, and I know I pinned that f*cker down before it grew legs and started running.
Lila lifts the bottle and moves to pour me a second drink but I cover the glass mouth.
“No thanks. I’m watching what I drink.”
She looks stunned.
“You? The man who when booking this company all those years ago had a permanent 3 inches of snow in his moustache?”
“People change Lila. I’ve matured, not like a fine wine though. That’s far too cliché. I’m more like a dirty great wheel of cheese. I f*cking stink, but you want me. You really want me.”
She makes a point of not laughing. Fair enough. The feeling’s mutual my dear.
“It would be easy for someone in my position, both emotionally and physically, to fall back on to booze. Prop myself up with a bottle. But like I said, I’ve got work to attend to, and I want to be clear headed for every moment of it. I want to remember it. Start to finish.
Now. What are we doing about Frank? Choose the time and place, point me at him and pull the trigger. I’ll do the rest.”
She pours herself a second, her smile spreading as she thinks about what I’ve just said.
“Why wait?”
“Why indeed?”
I clink my empty glass against her fresh drink and watch as she knocks it back.
“To homecomings.”
“You know, I think you’re supposed to make the toast before you drink, but maybe that’s just my English sensibilities.”
“Okay.”
She pours another. F*cking hell Frank. What have you done to this woman? She raises the glass.
“To homecomings.”
“To homecomings.”
And the wolf is back amongst the sheep.
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A Visit to the Bar........Harbor
As I pull the hand brake on and glance up toward the house, I can only envy the guy, living all the way out here. I tried that. Hell, I tried going further north than Bar Harbor, but that rug was pulled out from underneath me before I had chance to settle in. Besides, at least Dave’s got someone to keep him warm, inside and out.
“No such luck for old Drakz, is there boy?”
I glance to the right, to address my passenger, but as I lay my side eye on him he stops panting and his features melt away.
Deep breaths.
I push my fingers into my eyes, giving them a rub. It’s been a long drive. You don’t have to explain yourself mate. There’s no f*cker here to explain to.
Another deep breath, and a laugh at my own inability to find peace. Who the f*ck needs peace anyway? If it was peace I wanted I wouldn’t be stepping back onto that company’s roster.
I reach over and grab my coat from the passenger seat, still half expecting it to yelp in pain.
Heh.
The doorbell rings under my finger and a few moments later I see a silhouette that most certainly isn’t David Brennan approaching. The door opens but the chain stays on.
“Jesus. What do you want?”
“Hi Nat.”
“Natalie.”
“Sorry. Right. I don’t actually know you, do I?”
“So?”
It’s more than evident that former New Epoch running buddies aren’t welcome around these parts. Hardly surprising when you consider what the other-other guy did to her better half? Worse half? Other half…..
To Brennan.
“So…..I wanted to speak with Dave.”
“Nope. Absolutely not.”
She starts to close the door and I move my hand to hold it open. I see the look of fear, and realise very quickly how hostile this must seem. Immediately I let go and back off, both hands raised.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to…”
“You didn’t mean to? I thought you were supposed to be the calculated one?”
Damn. Was that a burn? I can’t help but chuckle, hopefully in such a way that doesn’t imply I’m about to kick the door in.
“That’s what they say. I’ve always considered it fairly unfounded myself. Listen….Natalie, I’m not here to get the jump on a guy with his teeth in his belly. I’m not Michael Kyzer, I haven’t got anyone with me. I honestly just drove over here from Chicago for the sole purpose of speaking to an old friend, and making sure he’s alright.”
“And where was his ‘old friend’ a couple of weeks back? Where was this ‘old friend’ when David was smashed to bits by that f*cking huge…..I don’t even know what he is!”
I interject trying to stop her getting worked up, going back over it all in her head.
“I didn’t even known any of that was going down! You seem like a smart woman, so you probably don’t watch a whole lot of WFWF programming, but I’ve been kept at arm’s reach for months now. I was stuck in the car park of the arena while Dave was getting hung up to dry. You think they have TV sets in the car park?”
That got a little hostile again. F*ck. I need to turn on the charm, instead of getting all defensive. Mind you, she’s not just some dumb broad, contrary to what most people assume, given her choice in men. Urgh. I’m so out of practice.
“Listen, I don’t care where you were, and I don’t care where you’ve come from today. I don’t want you in my house. I trust you’ll respect that?”
She makes a point of letting me see the bat her hand has just grabbed from beside the door. Damn. You’d think living all the way out here would mean a more lax home security programme. I suppose seeing your partner eviscerated by a Dragon, days after an underage Thai sex worker tries to break in, will do that.
I make a point of looking at the bat. Letting her know I’ve got the message loud and clear.
“Natalie, I get it. It’s fine. I understand you’ve been through the wringer recently, so why risk adding another notch to that bedpost of f*ckry? I’ll catch up with Dave some other time.”
“Good. Thank you. Bye.”
The door closes, and I’ve wasted a whole lot of my time, just to be put in my place by a stranger. Jeez.
Deep breath. Another one. Anyone would think I’d taken up some tantric sh*t the rate I’m sucking it in today.
F*ck it. Better luck next time.
I start to head back to the car and glance over my shoulder, up at one of the windows. No light on. Hmmm, if this was my house I’d have my room facing the sea. I keep walking until I’m sure Nat’s happy I’m leaving, then, a couple of paces short of the vehicle, I veer left and into the bushes.
F*cking hell. After everything I’ve just said to her, about not being a home invader, and now I’m skulking through the damn hedgerow, making a wide pass around the house she just refused me entry to. This isn’t going to reassure her if she has in fact kept her eyes on me.
I keep low and eventually make it far enough around the house that I can see a lamp in one of the windows. Well…..here goes.
I snatch up a couple of small stones from the dirt beneath me and ping the first one at the window. Bounces off the frame. The second connects though, and if there’s someone inside then they definitely heard that. I stay crouched and wait, hoping Dave will come to the window.
Nothing.
I send another stone his way.
Wait. Was that a shadow moving inside?
“Get up.”
Awww sh*t snacks.
“Get the f*ck up.”
I feel the end of the baseball bat between my shoulder blades. This woman’s not f*cking around.
“Okay, you got me.”
“You said….”
“I say a lot of things.”
“I should split your head.”
“You’re right, you probably should. I’d do it fast though if I were you, because I’m not the type to sit here and just take a beating.”
And now I’m threatening her. This is really not going the way I’d seen it pan out in my head.
“Just be thankful he heard you at the door.”
“What?”
“The only thing keeping this….”
She jams the bat deeper into my back.
“…from putting you to sleep, is Dave’s stupidity.”
I can only garner from that statement that David wants to see me.
Thankfully.
I’m in no mood for dealing with authorities. Especially with a young woman’s brains on my shirt.
“Well, accept my thanks.”
“Just get up.”
Feels like I should have my hands on my head. Eh, why not. She doesn’t like me as it is. Maybe she’ll laugh? The hands are now on the head, as I rise to my feet.
“Up on to the porch and through the back door.”
She didn’t bat an eyelid at my Guantanamo schtick. This lady’s good.
I frog march across the back lawn toward the house and still try to engage.”
You know, this isn’t too dissimilar to how I met my last girl friend.
The bat leaves my back. There we go.
“You haven’t had a girl friend in as long as Dave’s known you.”
Oh, I see. It’s because she thinks I’m so pathetic that I’m not a threat. Meh. She’s probably right.
“I’ve not had a girl friend in as long as I’ve known me. Heh. Call it poetic license. Or just lying. You choose.”
“Wait. At all?”
Well, this has certainly taken an interesting turn.
“Erm. I mean, I f*cked my sister. Does that count?”
“WHAT?!”
Wow. Wasn’t expecting to divulge that today. Back pedal Isaac.
“Sorry. Half sister.”
Nice save.
“Is that supposed to make it better? And for the record, no, that doesn’t count as a relationship. My God, I can’t believe I’m about to say this but……..get inside.”
And, like a shamed dog, having his nose rubbed into a piss soaked carpet, I enter the house with my tail between my legs. F*cking hell I need to find another animal to make reference to.
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Franky baby.
Here I am.
Here for you.
I know in the past I, like many others, have been guilty of giving you the “you’re nothing compared to me, you might as well just stay home” treatment. I’ve overlooked you, having my eyes set on things further afield. Have we even met one on one? Don’t take my lapse in memory as a slight, I’m forgetting all sorts these days. What I haven’t forgotten though is what it takes to be a fighting champion. A champion people respect. A champion people give a f*ck about.
Lila might have been riding your balls when she rambled on about you needing a higher calibre of opponent, but there’s an element of truth in there. You’ll never sharpen your blade on a dull, rounded stone mate.
And that’s why I’m here. Well, truth be told, the actual reason I’m here is because Lila Sleater wants me to murder you. I genuinely think she’d go that far if she thought she’d get away with it. You need to watch that one, she’s got teeth in all the wrong places.
Now, I’m not going to go as far as that. It’s not in my best interests to go over the top. I don’t want an Obo self serving gore fest. I don’t want to announce my return with a flaming, barbed wire heh. No. I’m here for a tune up. I’m here to blast off the ring rust as quick as possible because, as ever, I’ve got things on the horizon that require me at my best. Don’t let that fool you though Frank. I’m not taking this lightly. I’ve got both eyes locked firmly on that square old head of yours.
You’ve built up quite the resumé in my absence…….as most people seem to do.
That’s why I’m happy Lila’s chosen to put you in front of me. This is what I’m after. The young prospect, risen to the top, renowned for his striking and ground game. That’s how I’ll know if I’m really up to scratch still. 18 months laid up makes a man go soft, but then I’ve never been just a man, have I Frank?
I’m still the measuring stick. I’m still the bar.
Even after all this time away, my name still gets d*cks hard as hell.
Of course, I’m expecting a better showing from you than I got during that Thunderc*nts run, but I’d hope you are as well. You’ve gone 2 and 0 against The New Epoch. That’s enough to make anyone weak at the knees, and now you’re only one shiny away from having a whole set right? I’m afraid this trend of Frank Lynn doing ‘the unthinkable’ ends with me bud.
I’m not David Brennan.
I’m certainly not Michael Kyzer.
I’m Mr 504.
I’m the man the people STILL pay to f*cking see.
I’m the……..
Heh. But you know all of this, don’t you? You’ve got more of an idea of what’s going on around here than I do these days. I’m out of touch. You’re in the thick of it. The champion on the front lines. Fighting back cosplaying teenage girls, and I SALUTE YOU SIR!
You’re doing God’s work. Or something like that.
But now you’ve got a slight detour. A real ripper of a challenge. I know you’ll be ready for it. You always are. The problem is your opponents tend to underestimate you. Even now. Even though you’re the International Champion, the old guard still make the mistake of taking you lightly, and time and time again it’s bitten them on the d*ck.
No doubt if this match was happening while I was still WFWF World Heavyweight Champion I’d have done the same. I’d still have beaten you, but all the same I wouldn’t have treated you as a threat. Not now though. Now everyone’s a threat. Everyone and anyone could be the needle that unpicks the seam. It’s no secret that my career’s on borrowed time Frank, and I’ve got a bucket list that’s begging to be ticked. I can’t let anything get in the way of that, and as such you have my undivided attention.
So study your tapes, relive your victories over the likes of Trace Demon; in the hope it will bolster you for a similar kind of fight, but know that this isn’t going to be like any match you’ve had since you transitioned into the squared circle. I’m as close to 100% as I’ve been in nigh on 10 years, and you’re the unlucky guy who gets to test out what that means. None of the names you’ve beaten have ever faced this version of me, and still they all fell.
So keep your hot headed manager in check, keep your mind INSIDE the ring and let’s see if you can hang with the greatest pure wrestler that ever laced up a pair of boots.
I just hope the pendulum hasn’t swung too far in the other direction. You’re not the squeaky clean guy you used to be. Now you’re throwing shade, talking with an attitude not far removed from those you vowed to run out of the sport. You’ve let a few big wins go to your head and you’re starting to see why we all act the way we do. Isn’t that right? Now that’s very interesting to me. Watching the gradual shift of the scales. Maybe you’ll right it though before it tips?
Perhaps. That’s your story to tell.
For now though we’re bit players in each other’s, and it’s got me thinking……
I wonder if that revolution of yours has one last hoorah in it before you really do go off the deep end?
I guess we’ll find out.
See you in Chi-town Franklyn.
I’ll be waiting.
Sh*t. I barely even remember how old I am? Who’s honestly keeping count? I suppose this kid’s still full of spunk though. Probably counts the f*cking days.
26.......There’s a history of it in my family though.
“Mum or Dad’s side?”
“Mom’s.”
As per usual I know sweet F.A. about what we’re riffing on, which, for the record, is Deep Vein Thrombosis. But many years of getting caught out has taught me to just talk with confidence and saps will believe you.
Oh. Who’s this sap?
He’s the short straw that has to babysit me in the car park this go around. Every time it’s someone different, which leads me to thinking that maybe they’ve started sub-contracting security staff locally, instead of keeping a full team on the pay roll. F*cking cheapskates. So short sighted as well. Don’t they know that sub-contracting almost always winds up costing a company more than maintaining a steady staff? Oh, wait, sh*t. He’s looking really concerned. I must have left an awfully long silence after a pertinent question regarding his health, or lack there of.
“Well, I reckon you’ll……”
“Gentlemen.”
“……excuse me?”
I f*cking hate that! Who the hell has the audacity to just walk over to a conversation and proclaim their input more important? I mean…..I know who. I recognise her voice, and heard her squelching her way towards us before she so much as opened her mouth.
“Can’t you see we’re having a conversation here for f*ck sake?”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I thought you were looking for a job? I guess not.”
A what?!
She tries to play it all coy and turns to walk away.
“A what?!”
She stops. Even through the back of her head I know she’s smiling to herself. Got a big flopping marlin on the line, ready to be opened up. Jesus, she’s not even going to turn back around before she starts talking is she? Did someone buy her improv classes for her birthday?
”A job. You do still want to work here…..right?”
“There it is. There it f*cking is. Please Ms Sleater take my little balls and keep them with the rest of your collection. Urgh. Don’t give her the satisfaction.”
“No?”
“You know I f*cking do. Drop the amateur dramatics Lila. Can we go and discuss this somewhere more civilised? I feel like a God damn trick talking about ‘work’ out the back of whatever this butt-f*ck town calls its arena.”
She looks back at me and laughs through her nose, clearly enjoying the idea of me being a piece of meat she’s about to bore holes in to.
“Come on then.”
And off she goes, back in to the arena, her heels clicking across the tarmac while everything else about her just squelches. Such a gross lizard of a woman. I watch her for a moment before following like the well trained pet I’ve been forced to be.
“Hey man, you were saying?”
“About?”
“The disease running on my Mom’s side…..”
“F*ck kid. I don’t know. You’ll probably die. Wait, no that’s wrong of me to say. You’ll definitely die. But then, so will I. So will she. It’s a race to the bottom. So what if you get a bit bloaty and clotted on the way down?”
“Errrrr”
Why was this clod entrusted solely with keeping me at bay? I fear I’m being underestimated these days.
“Peace & f*ckin’ my brother.
Oi, Sleater. Hold the door?”
She stands at the door, sighing, probably realising this isn’t a good idea. All the same though I skip toward her yapping like a dog. BLAH. No, not Dog. Any subservient, domesticated animal but Dog.
I clear my throat and for the first time in well over 18 months I enter a WFWF building…… Legally.
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Home Comings
(A.K.A. How the End Began)
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I’d like to say I was relishing soaking up the sights and smells of being backstage at a wrestling show, but honestly? It still just stinks of testosterone and looks like a f*cking county fair with a budget. This certainly isn’t the part I’ve missed.
It’s not long before I’m shown into an office and now I start to get a little excited. Outside of being in the ring THIS is the fun I’ve been missing. Flexing my vocabulary to get my own way. So come on Lila, open wide. Or, would you rather I take the first load?
“So then massa, what’s the story in Balamory? Why now have you decided to renege on your previous decision? I’m assuming that offering me a job does in fact mean as an active wrestler? Because if this is some gung-ho way of trying to squeeze me in to an administrative role then I’ll show myself out.”
She’s pacing. I hate a woman who paces. It just looks like they’re jonesing.
“Drakz, as you well know I don’t think it wise for you to be an active competitor here. For whatever reason a part of me is looking out for your well being, whilst the rest of me just fears the eventual law suit when you inevitably end up back in a wheelchair. For good this time.”
I open my mouth to retort with something hilarious. I’m not sure what just yet, but I guarantee it would have been razor sharp. She doesn’t let it happen.
“Just let me say my bit and then I’ll open the floor to questions, okay?”
My hands go up, deferring the aforementioned zinger of the subconscious for now.
“But your persistence, in turning up to every single damn show, has made it clear to me that simply……you don’t give a sh*t about your health….do you?”
Did the floor open? I sense that may have been rhetorical.
“No wife. No kids. No pets. No family. No responsibilities. I’m not sure you even have any friends left.”
Alright. Jesus.
“No one to hold you back from whatever it is you want at any given moment, and it seems to me at this given moment……and the last 18 months worth of them….you want this.”
Palms up, she looks around the room. I assume she means the WFWF, not this flat pack excuse for an office space. But she’s only half right. Less than, in fact. I was fine with my seemingly forced retirement for a while. I’d made peace with it. Come to terms with the fact that there’s nothing left for me here. That was all before Mike reared his head though.
“So I’m supposed to let a guy cripple himself on MY show because he wants it? No. Of course your consistency brought the whole thing to the forefront of my mind, but it didn’t come close to changing it. You’ve got your old friend David to thank for that.”
Mr Brennan. As I live and breathe. I’m still failing to see how any amount of talking could sway someone as stubborn as our friend Lila Sleater though. I shift in my chair, crossing my legs the other way.
“He helped me see that in keeping you and Kyzer apart I’m only prolonging the inevitable, and what good is the inevitable to us if it doesn’t happen while our cameras are rolling?”
Wow. I know I should be happy, but that’s f*cking cold.
“You two are only going to kill each other elsewhere if I don’t help facilitate it. Right?”
Another rhetorical c*ck tease of a question. Let me just talk already!
“So call me an enabler. Call me a callous, money hungry leech. Call me whatever you like….”
Damn Sleater. For a mess of skin you’re getting me a little hot under the collar with all this dirty talk.
“……but I’m a shrewd businesswoman when the time calls for it. I’m willing to stick my neck out if I think the payoff could be worth it, and frankly, I don’t know that there’s ever been one more worthy of the risk.
But….”
A catch. Of course. She’s hardly going to let me just waltz in here and steal the hearts and minds of the world. She’s scratched my back (weak and herniated as it may be), so now I’ve got to scratch hers (flaky and flabby as I’m sure it is).
“I need something from you first. I need……a weapon.”
“Okay, f*ck this ‘I hold the floor’ bollocks. That was a lot to process, but now you’re asking me to what? Smuggle firearms for you? I mean, if that’s what it takes. I know a guy….”
“No. Not that kind of weapon, you moron. I need a weapon capable of resolving a recurring problem I’ve been having.”
There’s more than one type of weapon now?
“I need you. I need you to take care of someone for me.”
“You need me, a weapon, to take care of someone for you? Who? Your nan? Your cat? What are we talking here?”
“Do you always have to make everything so damn difficult?! Christ! I need you to take Frank Lynn down a peg or 12.”
“Help him with his washing?”
I’m grinning like a pederast in a playroom as I say it, and she knows full well I’m taking the p*ss at this stage. She finally sits down, opens her top drawer and puts a bottle of brown on the table. Then a glass. She starts to fill it and I cough. She glances up at me.
“One glass? Come now.”
Lila smirks, and out comes a second. There is no ‘cheers’ but I do nod at her just before the booze slips down into my empty belly.
“So let me get a few things straight. First of all, you’re wrong about me and my health. I started to really enjoy not feeling banged up all the time. Do you have any idea how many times I’ve been jumped by my colleagues? How many times, surplus to my actual contractually agreed upon fights, I’ve been bludgeoned, glassed, thrown off of things? Go on, just give me a ball park figure….”
“I don’t know. Erm, one hundr….”
“You f*cking numb nuts. It was rhetorical.”
“You asked for a ball park figure!?!”
“And?”
She downs what’s left of her drink. Steady those nerves my dear, it’s going to be a wild old ride you’ve set us on.
“As I was saying. My body has been…..how do you say it?
‘F*cked’, for the longest of times. Hell, I won and defended the WFWF World Heavyweight Championship for over 500 days whilst nursing a career threatening injury. So if I said I didn’t care about my health then I suppose it would only be a half truth. I’m not too fussed about sustaining it, but damn if I don’t feel f*cking great at the moment. The only bruise on my entire body is from walking into the edge of a coffee table.
I haven’t bled at all in weeks and I’ve not limped across a room in months.”
“So why throw all of that away to come back?”
“Because I’ve got work to do, and in my line of work that means getting hurt along the way.”
“No one’s forcing you to come back to work you know? You could stay home.”
“What? Take my retirement Rolex and just roast myself on a beach somewhere?”
“I mean, why not? Sounds nice to me.”
“Of course it does. It sounds nice to anyone else, but none of them have the baggage I’m lugging around. It’s mighty hard to lay back on a sun lounger with a f*cking great knife in your back Lila.”
She knows exactly what I’m talking about, and honestly? I think she understands. F*ck, if you can’t empathise with a guy who’s been betrayed by his best friend, and nearly been killed by him twice, then I think it’s you who needs to check what’s in that baggage of yours.
“So, are you actually going to give me what I want once I’ve run this little errand for you?”
“Well, that depends on exactly what it is you’re gonna ask for.”
“Just Michael Kyzer. Any way you want. Skewered. Dry Roasted. Served on a f*cking bed of couscous. I’m not picky. I just want a chance to finish things………..and if it pleases, make you a sh*t tonne of money in the process.”
“Make us a sh*t tonne of money.”
“Hell, I won’t turn it down, but I’d do it for free should the occasion call for it.”
I notice a glimmer in her eye.
“F*ck you. Pay me.”
The glimmer fades right away, and I know I pinned that f*cker down before it grew legs and started running.
Lila lifts the bottle and moves to pour me a second drink but I cover the glass mouth.
“No thanks. I’m watching what I drink.”
She looks stunned.
“You? The man who when booking this company all those years ago had a permanent 3 inches of snow in his moustache?”
“People change Lila. I’ve matured, not like a fine wine though. That’s far too cliché. I’m more like a dirty great wheel of cheese. I f*cking stink, but you want me. You really want me.”
She makes a point of not laughing. Fair enough. The feeling’s mutual my dear.
“It would be easy for someone in my position, both emotionally and physically, to fall back on to booze. Prop myself up with a bottle. But like I said, I’ve got work to attend to, and I want to be clear headed for every moment of it. I want to remember it. Start to finish.
Now. What are we doing about Frank? Choose the time and place, point me at him and pull the trigger. I’ll do the rest.”
She pours herself a second, her smile spreading as she thinks about what I’ve just said.
“Why wait?”
“Why indeed?”
I clink my empty glass against her fresh drink and watch as she knocks it back.
“To homecomings.”
“You know, I think you’re supposed to make the toast before you drink, but maybe that’s just my English sensibilities.”
“Okay.”
She pours another. F*cking hell Frank. What have you done to this woman? She raises the glass.
“To homecomings.”
“To homecomings.”
And the wolf is back amongst the sheep.
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A Visit to the Bar........Harbor
As I pull the hand brake on and glance up toward the house, I can only envy the guy, living all the way out here. I tried that. Hell, I tried going further north than Bar Harbor, but that rug was pulled out from underneath me before I had chance to settle in. Besides, at least Dave’s got someone to keep him warm, inside and out.
“No such luck for old Drakz, is there boy?”
I glance to the right, to address my passenger, but as I lay my side eye on him he stops panting and his features melt away.
Deep breaths.
I push my fingers into my eyes, giving them a rub. It’s been a long drive. You don’t have to explain yourself mate. There’s no f*cker here to explain to.
Another deep breath, and a laugh at my own inability to find peace. Who the f*ck needs peace anyway? If it was peace I wanted I wouldn’t be stepping back onto that company’s roster.
I reach over and grab my coat from the passenger seat, still half expecting it to yelp in pain.
Heh.
The doorbell rings under my finger and a few moments later I see a silhouette that most certainly isn’t David Brennan approaching. The door opens but the chain stays on.
“Jesus. What do you want?”
“Hi Nat.”
“Natalie.”
“Sorry. Right. I don’t actually know you, do I?”
“So?”
It’s more than evident that former New Epoch running buddies aren’t welcome around these parts. Hardly surprising when you consider what the other-other guy did to her better half? Worse half? Other half…..
To Brennan.
“So…..I wanted to speak with Dave.”
“Nope. Absolutely not.”
She starts to close the door and I move my hand to hold it open. I see the look of fear, and realise very quickly how hostile this must seem. Immediately I let go and back off, both hands raised.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to…”
“You didn’t mean to? I thought you were supposed to be the calculated one?”
Damn. Was that a burn? I can’t help but chuckle, hopefully in such a way that doesn’t imply I’m about to kick the door in.
“That’s what they say. I’ve always considered it fairly unfounded myself. Listen….Natalie, I’m not here to get the jump on a guy with his teeth in his belly. I’m not Michael Kyzer, I haven’t got anyone with me. I honestly just drove over here from Chicago for the sole purpose of speaking to an old friend, and making sure he’s alright.”
“And where was his ‘old friend’ a couple of weeks back? Where was this ‘old friend’ when David was smashed to bits by that f*cking huge…..I don’t even know what he is!”
I interject trying to stop her getting worked up, going back over it all in her head.
“I didn’t even known any of that was going down! You seem like a smart woman, so you probably don’t watch a whole lot of WFWF programming, but I’ve been kept at arm’s reach for months now. I was stuck in the car park of the arena while Dave was getting hung up to dry. You think they have TV sets in the car park?”
That got a little hostile again. F*ck. I need to turn on the charm, instead of getting all defensive. Mind you, she’s not just some dumb broad, contrary to what most people assume, given her choice in men. Urgh. I’m so out of practice.
“Listen, I don’t care where you were, and I don’t care where you’ve come from today. I don’t want you in my house. I trust you’ll respect that?”
She makes a point of letting me see the bat her hand has just grabbed from beside the door. Damn. You’d think living all the way out here would mean a more lax home security programme. I suppose seeing your partner eviscerated by a Dragon, days after an underage Thai sex worker tries to break in, will do that.
I make a point of looking at the bat. Letting her know I’ve got the message loud and clear.
“Natalie, I get it. It’s fine. I understand you’ve been through the wringer recently, so why risk adding another notch to that bedpost of f*ckry? I’ll catch up with Dave some other time.”
“Good. Thank you. Bye.”
The door closes, and I’ve wasted a whole lot of my time, just to be put in my place by a stranger. Jeez.
Deep breath. Another one. Anyone would think I’d taken up some tantric sh*t the rate I’m sucking it in today.
F*ck it. Better luck next time.
I start to head back to the car and glance over my shoulder, up at one of the windows. No light on. Hmmm, if this was my house I’d have my room facing the sea. I keep walking until I’m sure Nat’s happy I’m leaving, then, a couple of paces short of the vehicle, I veer left and into the bushes.
F*cking hell. After everything I’ve just said to her, about not being a home invader, and now I’m skulking through the damn hedgerow, making a wide pass around the house she just refused me entry to. This isn’t going to reassure her if she has in fact kept her eyes on me.
I keep low and eventually make it far enough around the house that I can see a lamp in one of the windows. Well…..here goes.
I snatch up a couple of small stones from the dirt beneath me and ping the first one at the window. Bounces off the frame. The second connects though, and if there’s someone inside then they definitely heard that. I stay crouched and wait, hoping Dave will come to the window.
Nothing.
I send another stone his way.
Wait. Was that a shadow moving inside?
“Get up.”
Awww sh*t snacks.
“Get the f*ck up.”
I feel the end of the baseball bat between my shoulder blades. This woman’s not f*cking around.
“Okay, you got me.”
“You said….”
“I say a lot of things.”
“I should split your head.”
“You’re right, you probably should. I’d do it fast though if I were you, because I’m not the type to sit here and just take a beating.”
And now I’m threatening her. This is really not going the way I’d seen it pan out in my head.
“Just be thankful he heard you at the door.”
“What?”
“The only thing keeping this….”
She jams the bat deeper into my back.
“…from putting you to sleep, is Dave’s stupidity.”
I can only garner from that statement that David wants to see me.
Thankfully.
I’m in no mood for dealing with authorities. Especially with a young woman’s brains on my shirt.
“Well, accept my thanks.”
“Just get up.”
Feels like I should have my hands on my head. Eh, why not. She doesn’t like me as it is. Maybe she’ll laugh? The hands are now on the head, as I rise to my feet.
“Up on to the porch and through the back door.”
She didn’t bat an eyelid at my Guantanamo schtick. This lady’s good.
I frog march across the back lawn toward the house and still try to engage.”
You know, this isn’t too dissimilar to how I met my last girl friend.
The bat leaves my back. There we go.
“You haven’t had a girl friend in as long as Dave’s known you.”
Oh, I see. It’s because she thinks I’m so pathetic that I’m not a threat. Meh. She’s probably right.
“I’ve not had a girl friend in as long as I’ve known me. Heh. Call it poetic license. Or just lying. You choose.”
“Wait. At all?”
Well, this has certainly taken an interesting turn.
“Erm. I mean, I f*cked my sister. Does that count?”
“WHAT?!”
Wow. Wasn’t expecting to divulge that today. Back pedal Isaac.
“Sorry. Half sister.”
Nice save.
“Is that supposed to make it better? And for the record, no, that doesn’t count as a relationship. My God, I can’t believe I’m about to say this but……..get inside.”
And, like a shamed dog, having his nose rubbed into a piss soaked carpet, I enter the house with my tail between my legs. F*cking hell I need to find another animal to make reference to.
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Franky baby.
Here I am.
Here for you.
I know in the past I, like many others, have been guilty of giving you the “you’re nothing compared to me, you might as well just stay home” treatment. I’ve overlooked you, having my eyes set on things further afield. Have we even met one on one? Don’t take my lapse in memory as a slight, I’m forgetting all sorts these days. What I haven’t forgotten though is what it takes to be a fighting champion. A champion people respect. A champion people give a f*ck about.
Lila might have been riding your balls when she rambled on about you needing a higher calibre of opponent, but there’s an element of truth in there. You’ll never sharpen your blade on a dull, rounded stone mate.
And that’s why I’m here. Well, truth be told, the actual reason I’m here is because Lila Sleater wants me to murder you. I genuinely think she’d go that far if she thought she’d get away with it. You need to watch that one, she’s got teeth in all the wrong places.
Now, I’m not going to go as far as that. It’s not in my best interests to go over the top. I don’t want an Obo self serving gore fest. I don’t want to announce my return with a flaming, barbed wire heh. No. I’m here for a tune up. I’m here to blast off the ring rust as quick as possible because, as ever, I’ve got things on the horizon that require me at my best. Don’t let that fool you though Frank. I’m not taking this lightly. I’ve got both eyes locked firmly on that square old head of yours.
You’ve built up quite the resumé in my absence…….as most people seem to do.
That’s why I’m happy Lila’s chosen to put you in front of me. This is what I’m after. The young prospect, risen to the top, renowned for his striking and ground game. That’s how I’ll know if I’m really up to scratch still. 18 months laid up makes a man go soft, but then I’ve never been just a man, have I Frank?
I’m still the measuring stick. I’m still the bar.
Even after all this time away, my name still gets d*cks hard as hell.
Of course, I’m expecting a better showing from you than I got during that Thunderc*nts run, but I’d hope you are as well. You’ve gone 2 and 0 against The New Epoch. That’s enough to make anyone weak at the knees, and now you’re only one shiny away from having a whole set right? I’m afraid this trend of Frank Lynn doing ‘the unthinkable’ ends with me bud.
I’m not David Brennan.
I’m certainly not Michael Kyzer.
I’m Mr 504.
I’m the man the people STILL pay to f*cking see.
I’m the……..
Heh. But you know all of this, don’t you? You’ve got more of an idea of what’s going on around here than I do these days. I’m out of touch. You’re in the thick of it. The champion on the front lines. Fighting back cosplaying teenage girls, and I SALUTE YOU SIR!
You’re doing God’s work. Or something like that.
But now you’ve got a slight detour. A real ripper of a challenge. I know you’ll be ready for it. You always are. The problem is your opponents tend to underestimate you. Even now. Even though you’re the International Champion, the old guard still make the mistake of taking you lightly, and time and time again it’s bitten them on the d*ck.
No doubt if this match was happening while I was still WFWF World Heavyweight Champion I’d have done the same. I’d still have beaten you, but all the same I wouldn’t have treated you as a threat. Not now though. Now everyone’s a threat. Everyone and anyone could be the needle that unpicks the seam. It’s no secret that my career’s on borrowed time Frank, and I’ve got a bucket list that’s begging to be ticked. I can’t let anything get in the way of that, and as such you have my undivided attention.
So study your tapes, relive your victories over the likes of Trace Demon; in the hope it will bolster you for a similar kind of fight, but know that this isn’t going to be like any match you’ve had since you transitioned into the squared circle. I’m as close to 100% as I’ve been in nigh on 10 years, and you’re the unlucky guy who gets to test out what that means. None of the names you’ve beaten have ever faced this version of me, and still they all fell.
So keep your hot headed manager in check, keep your mind INSIDE the ring and let’s see if you can hang with the greatest pure wrestler that ever laced up a pair of boots.
I just hope the pendulum hasn’t swung too far in the other direction. You’re not the squeaky clean guy you used to be. Now you’re throwing shade, talking with an attitude not far removed from those you vowed to run out of the sport. You’ve let a few big wins go to your head and you’re starting to see why we all act the way we do. Isn’t that right? Now that’s very interesting to me. Watching the gradual shift of the scales. Maybe you’ll right it though before it tips?
Perhaps. That’s your story to tell.
For now though we’re bit players in each other’s, and it’s got me thinking……
I wonder if that revolution of yours has one last hoorah in it before you really do go off the deep end?
I guess we’ll find out.
See you in Chi-town Franklyn.
I’ll be waiting.