Post by Rated R on Jul 10, 2022 14:33:44 GMT -5
Trace Demon Presents
The Final Act
“And so the end comes.
As we always knew it would.
But don’t shed tears for me child,
For the story means little without the promise of an ending.
Once, when I was young, I dreamt of forever,
Now, as I lay dying, I look back glad that our time is finite.
For without that it would mean little.
I have but one true regret that I hope you do not repeat.
That I did not appreciate the chance that I was given,
Until it was too late to truly savour it.”
< *** >
Begin
“When was the last time we saw each other? Me and you, the nameless, thankless narrator and his privileged, lucky audience? I suppose that isn’t the way we do things usually, is it? No, I guess not. It’s always been more of an inner thoughts kind of thing with our dear Trace Demon, right? Only natural, I suppose, when you really think about it. What else would a narcissistic sociopath do but spend their life talking to themselves, narrating their own experiences through witty banter and snide comments?
Making themselves out to be the hero, or the big villain, or a genius, or a family man, or anything else that he wanted you to see him as at any given time?
What? You thought that Trace Demon was a reliable narrator? Oh, far from it. I mean yes, he didn’t outright lie to you, he didn’t fabricate events, but if you were stupid enough to listen to him all these years then you’d actually believe that he was redeemable, that there was a shred of humanity to his actions, when the truth is that he was only ever doing whatever it is that he wanted, and forget about the rest of the world.
Strange though, that I’m here, telling you this. Strange that it isn’t him, with all his bluster and bravado. Why is that? What happened to the once great Trace Demon that has brought you here to me?
Something horrific, I would imagine.
How about we take a look? Let’s return to our fearless antagonist and see what brings him to this point, to the point where he doesn’t have a voice of his own. Just a warning though my friend, this isn’t exactly the Trace Demon you remember.”
< *** >
Then
Two Months Ago
It’s days like these that I struggle, two years since I woke up in that hospital bed with the kind of headache that made me wonder if I’d relapsed and gone on the most magnificent bender of all time. You know the type, the kind films are based on, the kind bards write great epics about, the kind that people found a religion too solely so that they can begin traipsing around the world to spread the gospel of.
The great Tuesday hangover. We’ve all had them. You know the type.
But of course this was nothing to do with booze, pills or girls, which have always been three of the four great weaknesses of my life. No, it was the fourth. Violence.
As it turns out waking up from having your head bashed in by a barbed wire baseball bat at the hands of your protege feels a lot like the great Tuesday hangover. The only difference between the two? The recovery time. It’s a lot easier to sleep off a hangover than it is to learn to think again, or talk, or even walk. But here we are, two years later, and I can do all of the above and a hell of a lot more.
Just ask your mom.
And yet despite that what am I doing with my time? With this second chance at life? Am I out living, laughing, loving? No, I’m sat alone, doing nothing. Sure, I’m doing that in a rather luxurious mansion that cost somewhere in the region of too expensive for any of you, but that doesn’t change the fact that I’m sat here alone, doing absolutely f**k all.
It’s difficult, being a man of such great drive with nothing to channel it towards. It’s even more difficult doing it sober, which is why on days like today, when my darling daughter in his school and the maid and nanny are out doing whatever it is they do when they’re not working, I consider how easy it would be to grab a taxi down to the nearest dive bar and drink myself into oblivion.
Y’know, like the good old days.
But, like every time before this, I don’t call that taxi. I could tell myself that it’s because I have a daughter to look after, even though the truth of that is that the nanny is more of a parent to that kid than I am, but no, the truth is that I don’t call that taxi because I can’t even muster up the motivation to do that.
How the f*****g mighty have fallen, am I right?
It’s here, on his couch, in this quite frankly embarrassing state, that I first hear the knocking of knuckles on glass.
Trace Demon: The f**k is that?
Fair question, because if you don’t know how mansions work, and let’s be honest you probably don’t given the current financial climate, they are usually surrounded by big walls and security systems and all sorts of stuff that are there for the sole purpose of keeping poor people like you out.
And yet there, at the window of all places, is some guy knocking. Given that he hasn’t started taking photos yet he’s probably not paparazzi, not that those camera-toting vultures take much interest in me anymore, so what then? Just a fan? A weirdo stalker? I wouldn’t mind so much if it was some girl in her early-twenties looking for a ride on the King’s staff, but no, this is a man, in his thirties, now waving at me because he’s realised I’ve seen him.
Trace Demon: The f**k are you?
I pull myself up off of the sofa, which takes more effort than it probably should, and head for the window. The guy points to the latch, signalling for me to open the window and… what? Let him in? Either he’s the most brazen damn thief I’ve ever laid eyes on or this guy is a a whole sandwich short of a lunchbox.
I consider the options. I could call the police, there’s a local patrol that would be there in less than five minutes because the majority of their funding comes from the rich asshats that live in this suburb. I would like to clarify that I do not consider myself one of their kind because I know what its like to work hard for a living, unlike those reality star sisters that live down the road.
Thing is, calling the police would mean not getting to bash somebody’s head in, and that isn’t the Trace Demon way, so instead I open the window, and immediately feel like an idiot for doing so.
Trace Demon: The f**k are you?
At least this time I’m not just speaking to myself.
Random Guy: You know, you’re a hard person to get a hold of. You mind if I-
He signals for me to let him in, via the window might I add.
Trace Demon: Are you being serious?
Random Guy: What d’you mean?
Trace Demon: Are you actually asking me whether you can break into my house?
The guy looks at me, spots the clueless expression on my face and then he starts to laugh. I seriously consider grabbing the nearest heavy object and dropping it on him.
Random Guy: Oh my god, you actually don’t know who… wow, girls in the office said you really don’t pay attention to your emails but they actually meant it.
The hell is this guy talking about? Which girls? Which office? The guy looks up at me, trying to stifle further laughter.
Random Guy: Look man, the name’s Eddie Myers. Here.
He digs into his pocket and for a brief moment I wonder if I’m about to get shot up. Unfortunately all he pulls out is his wallet, of which he pulls out a business card and hands it to me through the window. Wait a minute, did I just consider the lack of bullet holes riddling my body unfortunate? I should dive into that later.
Trace Demon: Eddie Myers, WFWF talent manager. You work for the WFWF? Wait a minute, are you the guy who’s emails I’ve been ignoring?
Less ignoring, more putting straight in the deleted folder without reading on purpose.
Eddie Myers: Wow, that hurts man, why would you want to ignore ol’ Eddie here? May I?
He doesn’t give me time to tell him to f**k off, instead grabbing onto the frame of the window and clambering up, pulling himself into the house and landing in a heap on the floor. He pops back up, wiping the dust off of his garishly bright shirt. This was the man the WFWF had sent after me? I almost feel insulted.
Eddie Myers: Wow, that was effort man, I really need to get back down to the gym. Ol’ Eddie isn’t in the shape he used to be, y’know?
I most certainly do not know, strange man who has just let himself into my house. Should’ve kept the window closed.
Trace Demon: The hell are you doing in my house?
Eddie Myers: Right now? Wishing you’d answered the front door when I knocked. Also, think I might have broken your front gate when I pushed it open with my car, hope that’s not too big of a problem for you?
Trace Demon: You’ve got ten seconds to tell me what you’re here for or I’m going to throw you out the same window you came in, only I’m going to make sure to close it first.
Eddie Myers: Ouch, sounds sore. Well Trace, can I call you Trace?
Trace Demon: No.
Eddie Myers: Well Trace, I’m gonna call you Trace, I work for the WFWF talent department. I’m sure you’ve heard about the big takeover.
I have, but I’ve struggled to find the energy to care. Everybody and their dog has owned the WFWF at some point, including me. Hell, at one point it was literally owned by a group called The Shadow Conglomerate. So sue me if there’s a lack of excitement over the whole thing.
Eddie Myers: Well Mr. Abadi’s obviously investing a lot of money in all aspects of the company, he’s a good guy, I’m sure you’ll like him.
Seems unlikely.
Eddie Myers: But the one thing he needs more than anything else is the talent. That’s where you come in.
Trace Demon: So that’s what this is about, you want me to come back and work for the WFWF. You want me to wrestle again.
Eddie Myers: What’d you think we were chasing you up about?
Trace Demon: Honestly, I don’t know, I figured you were trying to get me to go to one of those conventions, y’know the ones, where people dress up all weird.
This coming from the man who used to pull tight spandex over his ass before walking out in front of an audience.
Eddie Myers: Take it they aren’t your thing?
Trace Demon: Do I look like the broken shell of Alex Sean?
Eddie Myers: Well f**k man, I hear they put his ass in section C nowadays.
Trace Demon: Figures, that’s where you dump the trash.
I’ve had something of a turbulent history with Alex Sean over the past decade and a half. That’ll happen when somebody throws a fireball in your face and steals the XWA World Heavyweight Championship, I suppose.
Eddie Myers: Either way man, we both know you’d be section A, which is why the boss man wants to make sure he’s got you locked up for the big WFWF return.
For most people, this would be a dream scenario. Going back to the place that made you famous, that made you a star, especially after a few years of doing a whole lot of nothing. It would be just the thing that I need to get me out of this funk, and more importantly to get my ass off of the couch because seriously, when an indent starts to appear it means you’ve probably sat there too long.
Trace Demon: Not interested.
Luckily I’ve got the money to buy a new couch.
Eddie Myers: Oh they said you were a joker, said you were a right funny guy.
Nobody has ever said that about me, not even me.
Trace Demon: Who are they exactly?
Eddie Myers: You know, the girls in the office. Kate, Sandra, Maeve, the lot of them.
Trace Demon: I think you just made all those people up. Either way, I couldn’t think of anything worse than having to surround myself with whatever losers Bibidi has convinced to join him in this terrible idea.
Eddie Myers: It’s actually Abadi, and trust me, this isn’t some half-assed effort, we’ve got the big dogs back.
Trace Demon: You’ve got Drakz?
Eddie Myers: Well no-
Trace Demon: Kyzer?
Eddie Myers: Also no but-
Trace Demon: Hobo Schneider?
Eddie Myers: I mean we’re not actually sure if he’s still alive.
No chance we’re that lucky.
Trace Demon: Basically, what I’m hearing is you’ve got nobody? Hell, you’ve probably just got the likes of Mash and Dax Shephard, don’t you?
Eddie Myers: Do you mean Mesh and Dex?
Trace Demon: I don’t think it matters.
Eddie Myers: I mean we do have Mesh, but we also have Scarlett Quinn, Reverend Shadow, and get this, we’re in talks with EBR and DGX. How’s that for some big boys?
Trace Demon: I mean you’ll be lucky if Rev actually gets on the plane, and as appealing as it sounds to f**k with McGurk’s baby girl again I’ve been there already. DGX is all hype, no bite. EBR actually means something, but until he’s signed on the dotted line I’m not gonna believe it. Either way, doesn’t matter, because you ain’t got me, and if you ain’t got me, you ain’t got a company people are gonna want to watch. I’d say sorry, but I’m not, now let me show you the door or would you rather go out the window?
Eddie pauses, murmurs something to himself under his breath. I wonder how easily it’d be to take that duck-covered tie he’s wearing and strangle him with it.
Eddie Myers: Look man, truth is, you’re kinda already under contract.
Trace Demon: Excuse me?
Eddie Myers: When you sold up the WFWF the last thing you did was sign yourself to a golden contract. I’m sure you remember, can’t be fired or suspended, could do anything you wanted, honestly, genius move, even meant you got paid for the last four years even when you’ve not actually been doing anything.
I mean I did spend nearly two of those years in a coma.
Eddie Myers: Thing is, our guys checked over that contract and it kinda specifies that its valid for as long as you’re active in the WFWF, and the thing is the last four years you’ve not exactly been active. Now Mr. Abadi is perfectly happy to honour that contract, and forget all about the last four years where technically you’ve been paid when you shouldn’t, if you’re willing to come back and wrestle.
Anger bubbles up inside me at the mere thought that this wannabe used car salesman thinks he’s got one up over on me.
Trace Demon: And what if I don’t care if you don’t pay me? If you’ve not been paying attention you don’t buy a place like this with WFWF money, even with that golden contract you’re talking about.
I was smart enough to invest my WFWF money over the years in a number of business ventures, not all of them exactly above board. I might not be the man running those anymore, but I still get the benefits of all the money with none of the hassle, so money isn’t exactly something I worry about anymore.
Eddie Myers: Right, I didn’t exactly think that through. Look man, do a friend a favour here-
I’ve literally just met you and quite frankly I don’t like you very much.
Eddie Myers: We’re doing this big press conference, all the talent’s gonna be there, Abadi’ll be there, we’ll fly you out to it, first class obviously, you come down, you meet the team, maybe you change your mind. Maybe it reignites some passion or something like that.
Trace Demon: And what if it doesn’t? What’s in it for me then?
Eddie Myers: What?
Trace Demon: If I come to this press conference and it does what you say, well then in your mind I get my passion back or some s**t, right? But what if it doesn’t, what do I get out of it then? Because having some reunion with a bunch of people I don’t like isn’t it.
Eddie Myers: Um…
Trace Demon: I wanna punch you in the face.
Eddie Myers: Excuse me?
Trace Demon: That’s the deal. I come down to your press conference and if I don’t leave agreeing to step back in the ring then I get to punch you right in your punchable face.
Eddie Myers: You’d travel all the way down there just for a chance to punch me? Why not just punch me now?
Don’t think i’ve not considered it.
Trace Demon: Satisfaction. I want you to know that when I punch you it’s been your own fault, I want you to spend the next week knowing that I’m going to knock you out. So, just how important is getting me back to your boss?
He barely even waits to consider his options, or to consider just how hard I can punch, before holding his hand out.
Eddie Myers: Deal.
Trace Demon: I’m not shaking your hand you freak, now get out of my house.
Eddie Myers: You got it man, and let me tell you you’re not gonna regret this, just you wait, you’re gonna feel it.
Trace Demon: For the sake of your face, you want to hope so.
By the time I’ve finished talking he’s already climbing back out through the window. He could’ve just taken the door.
I’m gonna enjoy punching him in the face.
< *** >
Now
Alexa, open “Ringside Rants” podcast.
Ringside Rants; Episode 049
Summary: Today’s episode features a look ahead at WFWF’s second show since their big return including a sort-of interview with WFWF star Trace Demon, as well as a preview of our upcoming retrospective on the XWA, an interview with veteran wrestler Gruff McConnors and all the usual news and musings on this weeks wrestling scene.
Play.
Danny Groff: Ladies and gentleman welcome to another episode of Ringside Rants, I am as always Danny Groff alongside my co-host Maxine Halloway and today we-
Alexa, skip forward to 23:18.
Danny Groff: So we were meant to have Trace Demon on today’s edition of the Ringside Rants podcast to talk all about his big main event with DGX, however before going live today we had a catchup with Trace to kind of discuss our talking points and, well, to say it didn’t go to plan would be an understatement.
Maxine Halloway: Well I’m sure our listeners already know all about the kind of man Trace Demon is on-screen, and let me assure you it turns out he’s exactly the same off of it as well.
Danny Groff: Luckily for you all we were recording that interaction, and we’re going to play it for you right now.
Maxine Halloway: Listener discretion is very much advised.
Static, then the cut in.
Danny Groff: Thanks for joining us for this pre-call Trace, we thought you’d like a heads up on some of the questions so you could put some stuff together for it.
Trace Demon: More of a shoot from the hip kind of guy, but whatever.
Maxine Halloway: Right, well, essentially the way this’ll work is we’ll go back and forth for a bit, then edit the footage later and-
Trace Demon: I know how podcasts work, I’m not Yukio Blaze.
Danny Groff: So what we’d like to do is obviously ask you some questions about the show, and about your history with DGX.
Trace Demon: Whatever.
Danny Groff: We’d like to focus on how it feels to step into the ring with a legend of the WFWF, in his return match no less.
Maxine Halloway: Really focus in on how different he is compared to when you faced off in the past, you know? Discuss how big of a challenge he’s going to pose with all that experience and this drive to cement his legacy.
Danny Groff: And we want to talk about how notable it is that you’re the first person he called out, so we’re going to ask you what you thought when you heard that challenge, were you nervous, were you excited, were you flattered?
…
Danny Groff: Trace, you still with-
Trace Demon: This is a joke, right? You’re messing with me, because you sure as hell didn’t invite me onto your podcast just to talk about how [censored] glorious you think DGX is.
Maxine Halloway: Um, we signed off on these questions with the WFWF media team.
Trace Demon: So you thought you’d invite me onto your podcast and just show me as much disrespect as you could possibly [censored] muster? Is that it?
Danny Groff: No, Trace that’s not-
Trace Demon: If you wanted to talk about DGX so much why didn’t you just invite DGX onto the show?
Danny Groff: I mean we did but he declined the-
Maxine Halloway: Danny shut up!
Trace Demon: I will not be disrespected by a bunch of nobodies who think they’re important just because they watch wrestling and know how to use some [censored] audio equipment, do you understand me? This match isn’t [censored] about [censored] DGX, DGX doesn’t [censored] matter! I’m the one who [censored] matters, I’m the [censored] one you should want to talk about, and I won’t be [censored] disrespected by two [censored] [censored] who [censored] think their [censored] opinions matter in any [censored] way, do you [censored] understand what I’m [censored] saying?
Danny Groff: Um, yeah we-
Trace Demon: Oh [censored] off the pair of you.
Static, cut out.
Danny Groff: As we said, viewer discretion advised there, but you can certainly tell that Trace Demon is feeling the pressure.
Maxine Halloway: How could he not facing somebody of DGX’s calibre?
[Censored].
< *** >
Then
One Month Ago
I always hated crap like this. Everyone gathering together, rushing around, and for what? So people can go up on some stage and talk to a bunch of idiots who don’t actually appreciate it? What’s the bloody point?
I had considered not showing up, in truth there are plenty of people I could punch in the face and some of them would likely pay for the pleasure of it, so it’s not like punching the car salesman is all that much incentive. However I must admit the idea of reviving the WFWF when half of its stars are either out of shape, dead, in prison or otherwise indisposed makes me feel the same way as witnessing a car crash. There’s a beauty in the disaster of it all.
Yet here I am, hanging around backstage while a bunch of unfamiliar faces rush about to get ready for the press conference to kick off. I’m pretty sure I spotted Kurt Burton at one point, which really doesn’t fill me with any semblance of confidence for this supposed relaunch.
?: I didn’t expect to see you here.
I turn to the familiar voice to find the shiny bald dome of Jason Anders staring back at me. He must have chucked some polish on that thing because it nearly blinds me, and it isn’t even that sunny today.
Trace Demon: That goes both way. You working for this lot again?
Jason Anders: A man has to make a living, we can’t all wander about boasting about how rich we are.
Trace Demon: Well when you have money it’s hard not to. You here on your own or-
Jason Anders: Don’t even ask about her, alright? As far as you’re concerned you and any member of my family are total and utter strangers.
I mean I don’t make a habit out of f*****g strangers but… oh wait, no, I take that back, yes I do.
Trace Demon: Whatever you say Anders, I’m more than happy to leave the past in the past. So you’re back in legal, I take it?
Jason Anders: I am.
Trace Demon: You wouldn’t have had anything to do with bringing up the fine print of my little golden contract to a certain wannabe talent manager, would you?
If there was anybody who would know how to try and exploit that contract it would be the man who helped me put it together. Still, I can’t imagine Jason Anders would want to do anything that would lead to me showing my face in the WFWF again given how we left things.
Jason Anders: I think we both know I’d want nothing to do with that. You’re talking about that Eddie Myers idiot, aren’t you?
Trace Demon: See Anders, this is why we got along for so long, before all the unpleasantness, and I’m going to pretend I didn’t see you roll your eyes there. But yes, if that is the name of that brightly clad idiot then I am talking about him, I can’t be sure though because beyond his punchable face I can’t actually remember his name.
Jason Anders: I’d heard he got assigned to you, he was down asking questions about your contract to one of the other legal guys the other week, clearly trying to find some angle to bring you in. Clearly he said something to do the trick, since you’re here and all.
I begrudge the mere insinuation that anything that idiot said or did had any bearing on getting me here today. I’m half tempted to smack Jason across that shiny chrome dome of his but I resist, I have to save my energy for knocking Myers teeth out later.
Trace Demon: I don’t even know why I’m here, this whole thing just screams waste of time.
Jason Anders: Honestly Trace, Mr. Abadi seems like he’s on the level, and he’s got a plan to bring the WFWF back to its former glory. Now obviously plans have a tendency to go a little bit awry when wrestlers are involved but I think if you met the man you’d probably change your tune, he can be pretty inspiring.
Trace Demon: Inspiration is for losers who spend their time doing f**k all with their life, not for people like me who… does plenty of stuff, alright. I’m doing stuff constantly. Just f**k off will you Anders, you’re harshing my vibe.
Jason Anders: Look Trace, if you’re going to even consider coming back, and I’m hoping that’s a big if, then at least go in with an open mind. Y’know, more constructive, less destructive. Speak to Abadi, he’s literally right over there and-
I see where Anders is pointing and spot Bobby Abadi. What? I’m not stupid enough to show up here and not google the guy so I know what he looks like first. I walk off from Anders while he’s in mid-sentence, I’m sure he wasn’t going to say anything interesting anyway, and take off across the grounds towards where Bryan Bibidi stands surrounded by a horde of people coming and going, all doing what I’m sure are very important jobs. I’m also sure none are as important as I am.
Most people move aside as they see me coming, a glint of fear in their eyes. Clearly these are the people who have either worked for the WFWF before or actually know the product. The rest of them, who I can only assume to be the new blood, get shoulder barged clean out of the way. Pretty sure that guy was holding a very expensive laptop, oh well, shouldn’t have got in the way.
Within moments, and several people getting at the minimum a grazed knee, I find myself a step away from Bibidi himself.
Trace Demon: I think you probably want to talk to me.
He turns to look at me, and the mere moment of hesitance as he doesn’t instantly recognise the most prized talent the WFWF has ever had nearly earns him a knife in the throat. He’s just lucky I don’t have a knife.
Then the realisation comes and he’s guy smiley all of a sudden, arms outstretched as he steps in and wraps them around me. Is this grown ass man hugging me? The hell is happening right now? Can’t even get my hands up to push him off, is it bad form to headbutt him? I’m going to headbutt him. Headbutt incoming oh wait he’s backed off.
Bobby Abadi: Trace Demon! I had been informed that you would be attending today, how exciting. However I don’t remember seeing your name on the run list for the press conference, we must get that amended. I’m sure people will want to hear from you.
Trace Demon: I’m not here to talk, I’m here to tell you-
Bobby Abadi: What was that?
He’s not talking to me, but somebody in his ear through an earpiece, like he thinks he’s important or something.
Bobby Abadi: Sorry Trace, but the press conference is about to get underway and I’m needed on stage. But stick around, talk to one of the crew about that schedule and I’m sure we can get you a couple of minutes on stage. Sound good? Great, looking forward to working with you.
And then he’s gone, walking off in the opposite direction towards the stage, and suddenly I’ve never felt so angry in my life. The utter disrespect. The absolute, utter fu-
Timid Assistant: Um Mr. Demon sir?
Who dares interrupt me when I’m about to go on an epic internal rant?
Trace Demon: What do you want?
She’s young, nineteen, twenty, blonde, the kind of doe eyes that remind me of a deer with a truck hurtling for it at speed, and holding a clipboard. Is this bring your daughter to work day? Has a responsible adult actually thought about the consequences of bringing such an impressionable youth to a place filled with the likes of Alex Sean and DGX, men of notoriously low morals? Has anyone checked to make sure King Kraig isn’t about because he is definitely the type of guy you wouldn’t give planning permission for a basement to.
Timid Assistant: Mr. Abadi mentioned putting you on the schedule? I thought maybe we could put you near the end? Use you as a warmup for EBR’s big surprise return?
Trace Demon: You want to use me as a god damned fluffer? I am nobodies warmup act, especially not for any of those f***s from Rated X, you understand? In fact the only thing I’d be willing to do before any of them step foot on that stage is throw a f*****g fireball in their face, you got it?
The girl just nods, over and over, like she’s just hearing the 1981 classic Working for the Weekend for the first time. What? I’m Canadian, f**k off. While all this is going on I can hear Bobby Abadi’s words echoing out through the speaker system, and the introduction of some guy called Shaggy. I knew this thing was going to be a mess but I didn’t expect Mr. Boombastic himself to show up.
Trace Demon: F**k this hole.
As I storm off all dramatic like I realise that it isn’t multiplatinum selling recording artist Orville Burrell on stage, but someone speaking with the most messed up accent I’ve ever heard, and I’ve been to Pittsburgh.
Shuggy: unintelligible Scottish… Excited I am… are those words he’s saying? thing for one second that something about his daughter I think… how long it’s gonna last, but I’m… seriously I’ve heard Montreal Canadiens fans make more sense than this… hear from the EBRs, the Josh Deans, the DGXs… oh this is the bit where he namedrops all the legends, classic the likes of Drakz… he’ll be saying my name any second now, just for a cheap pop… Kyzer… any second now… Phillip Schneider… the f*****g f**k is this f*****y?!
My blood boils, how dare this nobody, this boy who speaks no sense, claim to name the legends of the WFWF and leave my name off of that list? Is this what I’ve become, is this what I’ve made myself, somebody people think can be disrespected? I will not have this, I will not allow it!
Stagehand: Sir, you can’t go-
Before I even realise it I’m storming the stage, shoving a stagehand over in the process. I see Shuggy coming towards me, and I know I could obliterate him here and now, teach him a lesson for his display of disrespect, but the boy can wait, it’s time for the world to remember who I am.
It’s time for the whole world to remember Trace f*****g Demon.
< *** >
Now
How did it come to this, lying here, next to her, just days away from a return to the ring? I hate the woman lying next to me, and I curse whatever primal part of the human brain that makes hate f*****g so damn good. I should kick her our right now for breaching the no sleeping over rule, who does she think she is, suddenly thinking she’s good enough to fall asleep in my bed, in my house, under the same roof where my child sleeps?
The audacity of the woman.
Maybe I would be less irritated if I could actually manage to sleep, but sleep hasn’t come so easily the past few days, as the realisation truly sets in of what I’m going to do, and the risks that that entails. Of course I could lie here dwelling over medical advice all I want, but where would that get me? So instead I roll out of bed, slip on my boxers and quietly, purely because I have no interest in discussing anything with this stain of a woman, exit my bedroom.
Without thinking I find myself to the door of my private study. I used to spend days on end here, watching tape, going over strategies, developing game plans and backup plans. It’s what I was known for, my mind, having backup plans for backup plans. But now? I haven’t stepped foot in this room for nearly two years.
I push the door open and step inside. There’s no need for a light, the moonlight shining in through the window illuminating the room. It’s just how I left it, the TV on the wall, the desk in the corner, papers still strewn across it. I rest my hand on the seat in the middle of the room, the one I’d sit in when watching footage, and my eyes rest on the wall where rows of shelves hold up the many championship belts I’ve won. They give you a personalised replica when you win a title, a trophy of sorts, to remember your past glories. I’ve got plenty of them, but right now there’s only one that matters, only one that my eyes settle upon as I set down.
I don’t know how long I’m sat there staring at it when I hear familiar footsteps approach the door. I’d hoped that if she woke up and realised I’d gone that she’d get the message and get the hell out of my house, but I’ve been trying to give her the boot from my life for years with little success, why would she possibly start playing ball now?
Her: What’re you doing in here, getting all weepy over past glory? Not like you’ve had any recently to celebrate.
I don’t give her the dignity of an answer as she pulls out the wooden chair from my desk and sits on it. I realise she’s wearing one of my old t-shirts, which irritates me further. She's getting far too comfortable.
Her: Oh I get it, you’ve got your big return in a few days, right? And the whole reason for this match is that title.
The WFWF World Heavyweight Championship, the first of two that I won, back in 2010. I don’t remember a lot about that time, I was on a whole cocktail of drugs and booze back then, but I do remember that feeling of holding that title for the first time, of being declared the best the WFWF had.
Her: If you’re gonna sit here in silence I’m just going to keep talking, you know that right?
Trace Demon: Oh f**k off.
Her: Finally, he speaks. So what’s this all about, you trying to remind yourself how great you are, tell yourself how you beat DGX once so you can beat him again?
Trace Demon: What’s everyone’s obsession with thinking that this match has anything to do with DGX for me? Like he matters at all?
Her: I mean it’s DGX, he’s always kind of been a big deal. Plus you’ve got history.
Trace Demon: We’ve fought one-on-one once, and I won. All that stuff in the XWA? That wasn’t anything to do with him, not really, that was all about Rated X thinking they ran the place, that they were better than everyone else. Well look what happened to them, Alex Sean’s stuck doing to convention circuit, I’m still living rent free in DGX’s head eleven years later and EBR? He’s gone the whole returning hero route because he’s got f**k all else going for him personality wise. So no, believe it or not I don’t much care about the fact this is me and DGX, if anything he’s the only person who has shown any sense because at least he’s smart enough to remember who the f**k Trace Demon really is.
And just like that I know I’ve over shown my hand.
Her: Ah, right, I get it.
Trace Demon: You get what?
Her: This, this whole thing, you in here thinking about past glory. But it isn’t the glory you’re thinking about, is it? It’s the fear, and the respect, and the memory of how people used to talk about you. You’re getting all soppy because you think they’ve forgotten about you.
Trace Demon: I carried the WFWF on my back for over a decade. While everyone else came and went, including the likes of DGX, I was eternal. And yet all anybody wants to speak about is EBR, or DGX, or even Drakz and Kyzer-
Her: Who aren’t even coming back.
Trace Demon: Exactly! Where’s my respect, eh? I broke bones, bled buckets, gave it everything I had for the WFWF and sure, half the time I was trying to tear it down but still, I risked my life for this company time and time again and yet I’m still somehow second best? Unacceptable.
Her: So that’s why you’ve gone back, to remind people who you are? That’s always been your MO Trace, everything you’ve ever done, all the times you tried to end or save the WFWF, it was all so that people would talk about you, this isn’t any different.
Oh trust me, it’s going to be different. This time it’s simple, either I get the respect I deserve or I finish the one job I never finished.
Her: I’m going back to bed.
And what job is that, you might be asking yourself?
Trace Demon: I never said you could sleep over Lila.
Well it’s pretty simple, if you ask me.
Lila Sleater: I don’t really care what you did or didn’t say Trace.
Either the WFWF shows me the respect I deserve, the respect I’ve earned.
Trace Demon: You will.
Or I kill it dead, once and for all.
Trace Demon: You all will.
Either way, I will have my legacy, in either gold… or in blood.
< *** >
Well it’s certainly been a while, right? I’ll need to remember how to do this exactly.
So the WFWF is back, because some things just can’t stay dead, right? And we’ve got a new big boss, Bobby Bibidi himself, and from what people tell me he’s quite the businessman, and a good guy to boot. Now I can’t speak for the latter, because I’ll be honest with you he’s not really made the effort to speak to me, which is strange, don’t you think? That the big boss hasn’t tried to personally get in touch with his star attraction?
The former though, him being a good businessman, now that I can speak to, because I think we’ve already proven that that isn’t true. I think Bibidi’s actions so far are more than enough evidence for us to determine that that is a bare faced lie, because how could a good businessman buy a wrestling company, put on a big return show… and then not put the best damn professional wrestler in the world in the main event? I mean did you see that main event? How’re you gonna launch a wrestling empire on the back of Mr. Section C himself Alex Sean, when that is the level of performance he’s gonna give you?
But fortunately for all you lot out there this week you get a main event worth talking about, because you get Trace Demon going one-on-one with DGX for only the second time in history. That’s a pretty big deal. And you are talking about it, don’t worry, I’ve heard and I’ve seen all the chatter. My only problem though is what you’ve all chosen to focus on. Even the preview for the show seems to think that this match is all about seeing whether DGX can rectify his one black mark and continue on with establishing some legacy for himself.
This match seems to have been set up with the idea that DGX is the star of the show. Well I’m here to correct that misconception. You see Trace Demon doesn’t play second fiddle, he isn’t a supporting act, I’m not stepping foot in that ring with the intention of making DGX look good as he tries to cement his legacy, because I’ve got a legacy of my own, and it’s a legacy bathed in blood and broken bodies, including DGX. In 2010, when I beat DGX and became the WFWF World Heavyweight Champion… I wasn’t half the man I became, I was still young, and learning, but even then, even before I became the man I am now I had more than enough about me to beat DGX fair and square in the middle of that ring.
So D, I’m afraid that this is one black mark that ain’t coming out in the wash, this is one loss that you aren’t going to be able to avenge. And it isn’t because your passed your prime, it isn’t because you’re the man you used to be, it’s simply because I am better than you. I was better than you in 2010, I was better than you in the XWA in 2013 and we both know that if you didn’t have your pathetic crew in Rated X you never would’ve come close to me, and I’m better than you now. The simple fact is that it doesn’t matter who owns this place, it doesn’t matter who books it, this is my house that I built with my bare hands, that I raised on my very broad shoulders, and you know it.
And if everyone wants to see this as the DGX show then more fool them, but I’m more than happy to play spoiler, believe it or not I kinda enjoy it. And when I’m through with you DGX and you’re flat on the mat looking up at me for the second time, I won’t even say I told you so, because you knew it all along. I am Trace Demon, I am better than you, I am the WFWF, I am not the first hurdle on the way to you cementing your legacy. You are simply the first to fall as I cement mine. But don’t worry, I’ll do you one favour.
I’ll make sure you get a nice little footnote in the book of Trace Demon.
The Final Act
“And so the end comes.
As we always knew it would.
But don’t shed tears for me child,
For the story means little without the promise of an ending.
Once, when I was young, I dreamt of forever,
Now, as I lay dying, I look back glad that our time is finite.
For without that it would mean little.
I have but one true regret that I hope you do not repeat.
That I did not appreciate the chance that I was given,
Until it was too late to truly savour it.”
< *** >
Begin
“When was the last time we saw each other? Me and you, the nameless, thankless narrator and his privileged, lucky audience? I suppose that isn’t the way we do things usually, is it? No, I guess not. It’s always been more of an inner thoughts kind of thing with our dear Trace Demon, right? Only natural, I suppose, when you really think about it. What else would a narcissistic sociopath do but spend their life talking to themselves, narrating their own experiences through witty banter and snide comments?
Making themselves out to be the hero, or the big villain, or a genius, or a family man, or anything else that he wanted you to see him as at any given time?
What? You thought that Trace Demon was a reliable narrator? Oh, far from it. I mean yes, he didn’t outright lie to you, he didn’t fabricate events, but if you were stupid enough to listen to him all these years then you’d actually believe that he was redeemable, that there was a shred of humanity to his actions, when the truth is that he was only ever doing whatever it is that he wanted, and forget about the rest of the world.
Strange though, that I’m here, telling you this. Strange that it isn’t him, with all his bluster and bravado. Why is that? What happened to the once great Trace Demon that has brought you here to me?
Something horrific, I would imagine.
How about we take a look? Let’s return to our fearless antagonist and see what brings him to this point, to the point where he doesn’t have a voice of his own. Just a warning though my friend, this isn’t exactly the Trace Demon you remember.”
< *** >
Then
Two Months Ago
It’s days like these that I struggle, two years since I woke up in that hospital bed with the kind of headache that made me wonder if I’d relapsed and gone on the most magnificent bender of all time. You know the type, the kind films are based on, the kind bards write great epics about, the kind that people found a religion too solely so that they can begin traipsing around the world to spread the gospel of.
The great Tuesday hangover. We’ve all had them. You know the type.
But of course this was nothing to do with booze, pills or girls, which have always been three of the four great weaknesses of my life. No, it was the fourth. Violence.
As it turns out waking up from having your head bashed in by a barbed wire baseball bat at the hands of your protege feels a lot like the great Tuesday hangover. The only difference between the two? The recovery time. It’s a lot easier to sleep off a hangover than it is to learn to think again, or talk, or even walk. But here we are, two years later, and I can do all of the above and a hell of a lot more.
Just ask your mom.
And yet despite that what am I doing with my time? With this second chance at life? Am I out living, laughing, loving? No, I’m sat alone, doing nothing. Sure, I’m doing that in a rather luxurious mansion that cost somewhere in the region of too expensive for any of you, but that doesn’t change the fact that I’m sat here alone, doing absolutely f**k all.
It’s difficult, being a man of such great drive with nothing to channel it towards. It’s even more difficult doing it sober, which is why on days like today, when my darling daughter in his school and the maid and nanny are out doing whatever it is they do when they’re not working, I consider how easy it would be to grab a taxi down to the nearest dive bar and drink myself into oblivion.
Y’know, like the good old days.
But, like every time before this, I don’t call that taxi. I could tell myself that it’s because I have a daughter to look after, even though the truth of that is that the nanny is more of a parent to that kid than I am, but no, the truth is that I don’t call that taxi because I can’t even muster up the motivation to do that.
How the f*****g mighty have fallen, am I right?
It’s here, on his couch, in this quite frankly embarrassing state, that I first hear the knocking of knuckles on glass.
Trace Demon: The f**k is that?
Fair question, because if you don’t know how mansions work, and let’s be honest you probably don’t given the current financial climate, they are usually surrounded by big walls and security systems and all sorts of stuff that are there for the sole purpose of keeping poor people like you out.
And yet there, at the window of all places, is some guy knocking. Given that he hasn’t started taking photos yet he’s probably not paparazzi, not that those camera-toting vultures take much interest in me anymore, so what then? Just a fan? A weirdo stalker? I wouldn’t mind so much if it was some girl in her early-twenties looking for a ride on the King’s staff, but no, this is a man, in his thirties, now waving at me because he’s realised I’ve seen him.
Trace Demon: The f**k are you?
I pull myself up off of the sofa, which takes more effort than it probably should, and head for the window. The guy points to the latch, signalling for me to open the window and… what? Let him in? Either he’s the most brazen damn thief I’ve ever laid eyes on or this guy is a a whole sandwich short of a lunchbox.
I consider the options. I could call the police, there’s a local patrol that would be there in less than five minutes because the majority of their funding comes from the rich asshats that live in this suburb. I would like to clarify that I do not consider myself one of their kind because I know what its like to work hard for a living, unlike those reality star sisters that live down the road.
Thing is, calling the police would mean not getting to bash somebody’s head in, and that isn’t the Trace Demon way, so instead I open the window, and immediately feel like an idiot for doing so.
Trace Demon: The f**k are you?
At least this time I’m not just speaking to myself.
Random Guy: You know, you’re a hard person to get a hold of. You mind if I-
He signals for me to let him in, via the window might I add.
Trace Demon: Are you being serious?
Random Guy: What d’you mean?
Trace Demon: Are you actually asking me whether you can break into my house?
The guy looks at me, spots the clueless expression on my face and then he starts to laugh. I seriously consider grabbing the nearest heavy object and dropping it on him.
Random Guy: Oh my god, you actually don’t know who… wow, girls in the office said you really don’t pay attention to your emails but they actually meant it.
The hell is this guy talking about? Which girls? Which office? The guy looks up at me, trying to stifle further laughter.
Random Guy: Look man, the name’s Eddie Myers. Here.
He digs into his pocket and for a brief moment I wonder if I’m about to get shot up. Unfortunately all he pulls out is his wallet, of which he pulls out a business card and hands it to me through the window. Wait a minute, did I just consider the lack of bullet holes riddling my body unfortunate? I should dive into that later.
Trace Demon: Eddie Myers, WFWF talent manager. You work for the WFWF? Wait a minute, are you the guy who’s emails I’ve been ignoring?
Less ignoring, more putting straight in the deleted folder without reading on purpose.
Eddie Myers: Wow, that hurts man, why would you want to ignore ol’ Eddie here? May I?
He doesn’t give me time to tell him to f**k off, instead grabbing onto the frame of the window and clambering up, pulling himself into the house and landing in a heap on the floor. He pops back up, wiping the dust off of his garishly bright shirt. This was the man the WFWF had sent after me? I almost feel insulted.
Eddie Myers: Wow, that was effort man, I really need to get back down to the gym. Ol’ Eddie isn’t in the shape he used to be, y’know?
I most certainly do not know, strange man who has just let himself into my house. Should’ve kept the window closed.
Trace Demon: The hell are you doing in my house?
Eddie Myers: Right now? Wishing you’d answered the front door when I knocked. Also, think I might have broken your front gate when I pushed it open with my car, hope that’s not too big of a problem for you?
Trace Demon: You’ve got ten seconds to tell me what you’re here for or I’m going to throw you out the same window you came in, only I’m going to make sure to close it first.
Eddie Myers: Ouch, sounds sore. Well Trace, can I call you Trace?
Trace Demon: No.
Eddie Myers: Well Trace, I’m gonna call you Trace, I work for the WFWF talent department. I’m sure you’ve heard about the big takeover.
I have, but I’ve struggled to find the energy to care. Everybody and their dog has owned the WFWF at some point, including me. Hell, at one point it was literally owned by a group called The Shadow Conglomerate. So sue me if there’s a lack of excitement over the whole thing.
Eddie Myers: Well Mr. Abadi’s obviously investing a lot of money in all aspects of the company, he’s a good guy, I’m sure you’ll like him.
Seems unlikely.
Eddie Myers: But the one thing he needs more than anything else is the talent. That’s where you come in.
Trace Demon: So that’s what this is about, you want me to come back and work for the WFWF. You want me to wrestle again.
Eddie Myers: What’d you think we were chasing you up about?
Trace Demon: Honestly, I don’t know, I figured you were trying to get me to go to one of those conventions, y’know the ones, where people dress up all weird.
This coming from the man who used to pull tight spandex over his ass before walking out in front of an audience.
Eddie Myers: Take it they aren’t your thing?
Trace Demon: Do I look like the broken shell of Alex Sean?
Eddie Myers: Well f**k man, I hear they put his ass in section C nowadays.
Trace Demon: Figures, that’s where you dump the trash.
I’ve had something of a turbulent history with Alex Sean over the past decade and a half. That’ll happen when somebody throws a fireball in your face and steals the XWA World Heavyweight Championship, I suppose.
Eddie Myers: Either way man, we both know you’d be section A, which is why the boss man wants to make sure he’s got you locked up for the big WFWF return.
For most people, this would be a dream scenario. Going back to the place that made you famous, that made you a star, especially after a few years of doing a whole lot of nothing. It would be just the thing that I need to get me out of this funk, and more importantly to get my ass off of the couch because seriously, when an indent starts to appear it means you’ve probably sat there too long.
Trace Demon: Not interested.
Luckily I’ve got the money to buy a new couch.
Eddie Myers: Oh they said you were a joker, said you were a right funny guy.
Nobody has ever said that about me, not even me.
Trace Demon: Who are they exactly?
Eddie Myers: You know, the girls in the office. Kate, Sandra, Maeve, the lot of them.
Trace Demon: I think you just made all those people up. Either way, I couldn’t think of anything worse than having to surround myself with whatever losers Bibidi has convinced to join him in this terrible idea.
Eddie Myers: It’s actually Abadi, and trust me, this isn’t some half-assed effort, we’ve got the big dogs back.
Trace Demon: You’ve got Drakz?
Eddie Myers: Well no-
Trace Demon: Kyzer?
Eddie Myers: Also no but-
Trace Demon: Hobo Schneider?
Eddie Myers: I mean we’re not actually sure if he’s still alive.
No chance we’re that lucky.
Trace Demon: Basically, what I’m hearing is you’ve got nobody? Hell, you’ve probably just got the likes of Mash and Dax Shephard, don’t you?
Eddie Myers: Do you mean Mesh and Dex?
Trace Demon: I don’t think it matters.
Eddie Myers: I mean we do have Mesh, but we also have Scarlett Quinn, Reverend Shadow, and get this, we’re in talks with EBR and DGX. How’s that for some big boys?
Trace Demon: I mean you’ll be lucky if Rev actually gets on the plane, and as appealing as it sounds to f**k with McGurk’s baby girl again I’ve been there already. DGX is all hype, no bite. EBR actually means something, but until he’s signed on the dotted line I’m not gonna believe it. Either way, doesn’t matter, because you ain’t got me, and if you ain’t got me, you ain’t got a company people are gonna want to watch. I’d say sorry, but I’m not, now let me show you the door or would you rather go out the window?
Eddie pauses, murmurs something to himself under his breath. I wonder how easily it’d be to take that duck-covered tie he’s wearing and strangle him with it.
Eddie Myers: Look man, truth is, you’re kinda already under contract.
Trace Demon: Excuse me?
Eddie Myers: When you sold up the WFWF the last thing you did was sign yourself to a golden contract. I’m sure you remember, can’t be fired or suspended, could do anything you wanted, honestly, genius move, even meant you got paid for the last four years even when you’ve not actually been doing anything.
I mean I did spend nearly two of those years in a coma.
Eddie Myers: Thing is, our guys checked over that contract and it kinda specifies that its valid for as long as you’re active in the WFWF, and the thing is the last four years you’ve not exactly been active. Now Mr. Abadi is perfectly happy to honour that contract, and forget all about the last four years where technically you’ve been paid when you shouldn’t, if you’re willing to come back and wrestle.
Anger bubbles up inside me at the mere thought that this wannabe used car salesman thinks he’s got one up over on me.
Trace Demon: And what if I don’t care if you don’t pay me? If you’ve not been paying attention you don’t buy a place like this with WFWF money, even with that golden contract you’re talking about.
I was smart enough to invest my WFWF money over the years in a number of business ventures, not all of them exactly above board. I might not be the man running those anymore, but I still get the benefits of all the money with none of the hassle, so money isn’t exactly something I worry about anymore.
Eddie Myers: Right, I didn’t exactly think that through. Look man, do a friend a favour here-
I’ve literally just met you and quite frankly I don’t like you very much.
Eddie Myers: We’re doing this big press conference, all the talent’s gonna be there, Abadi’ll be there, we’ll fly you out to it, first class obviously, you come down, you meet the team, maybe you change your mind. Maybe it reignites some passion or something like that.
Trace Demon: And what if it doesn’t? What’s in it for me then?
Eddie Myers: What?
Trace Demon: If I come to this press conference and it does what you say, well then in your mind I get my passion back or some s**t, right? But what if it doesn’t, what do I get out of it then? Because having some reunion with a bunch of people I don’t like isn’t it.
Eddie Myers: Um…
Trace Demon: I wanna punch you in the face.
Eddie Myers: Excuse me?
Trace Demon: That’s the deal. I come down to your press conference and if I don’t leave agreeing to step back in the ring then I get to punch you right in your punchable face.
Eddie Myers: You’d travel all the way down there just for a chance to punch me? Why not just punch me now?
Don’t think i’ve not considered it.
Trace Demon: Satisfaction. I want you to know that when I punch you it’s been your own fault, I want you to spend the next week knowing that I’m going to knock you out. So, just how important is getting me back to your boss?
He barely even waits to consider his options, or to consider just how hard I can punch, before holding his hand out.
Eddie Myers: Deal.
Trace Demon: I’m not shaking your hand you freak, now get out of my house.
Eddie Myers: You got it man, and let me tell you you’re not gonna regret this, just you wait, you’re gonna feel it.
Trace Demon: For the sake of your face, you want to hope so.
By the time I’ve finished talking he’s already climbing back out through the window. He could’ve just taken the door.
I’m gonna enjoy punching him in the face.
< *** >
Now
Alexa, open “Ringside Rants” podcast.
Ringside Rants; Episode 049
Summary: Today’s episode features a look ahead at WFWF’s second show since their big return including a sort-of interview with WFWF star Trace Demon, as well as a preview of our upcoming retrospective on the XWA, an interview with veteran wrestler Gruff McConnors and all the usual news and musings on this weeks wrestling scene.
Play.
Danny Groff: Ladies and gentleman welcome to another episode of Ringside Rants, I am as always Danny Groff alongside my co-host Maxine Halloway and today we-
Alexa, skip forward to 23:18.
Danny Groff: So we were meant to have Trace Demon on today’s edition of the Ringside Rants podcast to talk all about his big main event with DGX, however before going live today we had a catchup with Trace to kind of discuss our talking points and, well, to say it didn’t go to plan would be an understatement.
Maxine Halloway: Well I’m sure our listeners already know all about the kind of man Trace Demon is on-screen, and let me assure you it turns out he’s exactly the same off of it as well.
Danny Groff: Luckily for you all we were recording that interaction, and we’re going to play it for you right now.
Maxine Halloway: Listener discretion is very much advised.
Static, then the cut in.
Danny Groff: Thanks for joining us for this pre-call Trace, we thought you’d like a heads up on some of the questions so you could put some stuff together for it.
Trace Demon: More of a shoot from the hip kind of guy, but whatever.
Maxine Halloway: Right, well, essentially the way this’ll work is we’ll go back and forth for a bit, then edit the footage later and-
Trace Demon: I know how podcasts work, I’m not Yukio Blaze.
Danny Groff: So what we’d like to do is obviously ask you some questions about the show, and about your history with DGX.
Trace Demon: Whatever.
Danny Groff: We’d like to focus on how it feels to step into the ring with a legend of the WFWF, in his return match no less.
Maxine Halloway: Really focus in on how different he is compared to when you faced off in the past, you know? Discuss how big of a challenge he’s going to pose with all that experience and this drive to cement his legacy.
Danny Groff: And we want to talk about how notable it is that you’re the first person he called out, so we’re going to ask you what you thought when you heard that challenge, were you nervous, were you excited, were you flattered?
…
Danny Groff: Trace, you still with-
Trace Demon: This is a joke, right? You’re messing with me, because you sure as hell didn’t invite me onto your podcast just to talk about how [censored] glorious you think DGX is.
Maxine Halloway: Um, we signed off on these questions with the WFWF media team.
Trace Demon: So you thought you’d invite me onto your podcast and just show me as much disrespect as you could possibly [censored] muster? Is that it?
Danny Groff: No, Trace that’s not-
Trace Demon: If you wanted to talk about DGX so much why didn’t you just invite DGX onto the show?
Danny Groff: I mean we did but he declined the-
Maxine Halloway: Danny shut up!
Trace Demon: I will not be disrespected by a bunch of nobodies who think they’re important just because they watch wrestling and know how to use some [censored] audio equipment, do you understand me? This match isn’t [censored] about [censored] DGX, DGX doesn’t [censored] matter! I’m the one who [censored] matters, I’m the [censored] one you should want to talk about, and I won’t be [censored] disrespected by two [censored] [censored] who [censored] think their [censored] opinions matter in any [censored] way, do you [censored] understand what I’m [censored] saying?
Danny Groff: Um, yeah we-
Trace Demon: Oh [censored] off the pair of you.
Static, cut out.
Danny Groff: As we said, viewer discretion advised there, but you can certainly tell that Trace Demon is feeling the pressure.
Maxine Halloway: How could he not facing somebody of DGX’s calibre?
[Censored].
< *** >
Then
One Month Ago
I always hated crap like this. Everyone gathering together, rushing around, and for what? So people can go up on some stage and talk to a bunch of idiots who don’t actually appreciate it? What’s the bloody point?
I had considered not showing up, in truth there are plenty of people I could punch in the face and some of them would likely pay for the pleasure of it, so it’s not like punching the car salesman is all that much incentive. However I must admit the idea of reviving the WFWF when half of its stars are either out of shape, dead, in prison or otherwise indisposed makes me feel the same way as witnessing a car crash. There’s a beauty in the disaster of it all.
Yet here I am, hanging around backstage while a bunch of unfamiliar faces rush about to get ready for the press conference to kick off. I’m pretty sure I spotted Kurt Burton at one point, which really doesn’t fill me with any semblance of confidence for this supposed relaunch.
?: I didn’t expect to see you here.
I turn to the familiar voice to find the shiny bald dome of Jason Anders staring back at me. He must have chucked some polish on that thing because it nearly blinds me, and it isn’t even that sunny today.
Trace Demon: That goes both way. You working for this lot again?
Jason Anders: A man has to make a living, we can’t all wander about boasting about how rich we are.
Trace Demon: Well when you have money it’s hard not to. You here on your own or-
Jason Anders: Don’t even ask about her, alright? As far as you’re concerned you and any member of my family are total and utter strangers.
I mean I don’t make a habit out of f*****g strangers but… oh wait, no, I take that back, yes I do.
Trace Demon: Whatever you say Anders, I’m more than happy to leave the past in the past. So you’re back in legal, I take it?
Jason Anders: I am.
Trace Demon: You wouldn’t have had anything to do with bringing up the fine print of my little golden contract to a certain wannabe talent manager, would you?
If there was anybody who would know how to try and exploit that contract it would be the man who helped me put it together. Still, I can’t imagine Jason Anders would want to do anything that would lead to me showing my face in the WFWF again given how we left things.
Jason Anders: I think we both know I’d want nothing to do with that. You’re talking about that Eddie Myers idiot, aren’t you?
Trace Demon: See Anders, this is why we got along for so long, before all the unpleasantness, and I’m going to pretend I didn’t see you roll your eyes there. But yes, if that is the name of that brightly clad idiot then I am talking about him, I can’t be sure though because beyond his punchable face I can’t actually remember his name.
Jason Anders: I’d heard he got assigned to you, he was down asking questions about your contract to one of the other legal guys the other week, clearly trying to find some angle to bring you in. Clearly he said something to do the trick, since you’re here and all.
I begrudge the mere insinuation that anything that idiot said or did had any bearing on getting me here today. I’m half tempted to smack Jason across that shiny chrome dome of his but I resist, I have to save my energy for knocking Myers teeth out later.
Trace Demon: I don’t even know why I’m here, this whole thing just screams waste of time.
Jason Anders: Honestly Trace, Mr. Abadi seems like he’s on the level, and he’s got a plan to bring the WFWF back to its former glory. Now obviously plans have a tendency to go a little bit awry when wrestlers are involved but I think if you met the man you’d probably change your tune, he can be pretty inspiring.
Trace Demon: Inspiration is for losers who spend their time doing f**k all with their life, not for people like me who… does plenty of stuff, alright. I’m doing stuff constantly. Just f**k off will you Anders, you’re harshing my vibe.
Jason Anders: Look Trace, if you’re going to even consider coming back, and I’m hoping that’s a big if, then at least go in with an open mind. Y’know, more constructive, less destructive. Speak to Abadi, he’s literally right over there and-
I see where Anders is pointing and spot Bobby Abadi. What? I’m not stupid enough to show up here and not google the guy so I know what he looks like first. I walk off from Anders while he’s in mid-sentence, I’m sure he wasn’t going to say anything interesting anyway, and take off across the grounds towards where Bryan Bibidi stands surrounded by a horde of people coming and going, all doing what I’m sure are very important jobs. I’m also sure none are as important as I am.
Most people move aside as they see me coming, a glint of fear in their eyes. Clearly these are the people who have either worked for the WFWF before or actually know the product. The rest of them, who I can only assume to be the new blood, get shoulder barged clean out of the way. Pretty sure that guy was holding a very expensive laptop, oh well, shouldn’t have got in the way.
Within moments, and several people getting at the minimum a grazed knee, I find myself a step away from Bibidi himself.
Trace Demon: I think you probably want to talk to me.
He turns to look at me, and the mere moment of hesitance as he doesn’t instantly recognise the most prized talent the WFWF has ever had nearly earns him a knife in the throat. He’s just lucky I don’t have a knife.
Then the realisation comes and he’s guy smiley all of a sudden, arms outstretched as he steps in and wraps them around me. Is this grown ass man hugging me? The hell is happening right now? Can’t even get my hands up to push him off, is it bad form to headbutt him? I’m going to headbutt him. Headbutt incoming oh wait he’s backed off.
Bobby Abadi: Trace Demon! I had been informed that you would be attending today, how exciting. However I don’t remember seeing your name on the run list for the press conference, we must get that amended. I’m sure people will want to hear from you.
Trace Demon: I’m not here to talk, I’m here to tell you-
Bobby Abadi: What was that?
He’s not talking to me, but somebody in his ear through an earpiece, like he thinks he’s important or something.
Bobby Abadi: Sorry Trace, but the press conference is about to get underway and I’m needed on stage. But stick around, talk to one of the crew about that schedule and I’m sure we can get you a couple of minutes on stage. Sound good? Great, looking forward to working with you.
And then he’s gone, walking off in the opposite direction towards the stage, and suddenly I’ve never felt so angry in my life. The utter disrespect. The absolute, utter fu-
Timid Assistant: Um Mr. Demon sir?
Who dares interrupt me when I’m about to go on an epic internal rant?
Trace Demon: What do you want?
She’s young, nineteen, twenty, blonde, the kind of doe eyes that remind me of a deer with a truck hurtling for it at speed, and holding a clipboard. Is this bring your daughter to work day? Has a responsible adult actually thought about the consequences of bringing such an impressionable youth to a place filled with the likes of Alex Sean and DGX, men of notoriously low morals? Has anyone checked to make sure King Kraig isn’t about because he is definitely the type of guy you wouldn’t give planning permission for a basement to.
Timid Assistant: Mr. Abadi mentioned putting you on the schedule? I thought maybe we could put you near the end? Use you as a warmup for EBR’s big surprise return?
Trace Demon: You want to use me as a god damned fluffer? I am nobodies warmup act, especially not for any of those f***s from Rated X, you understand? In fact the only thing I’d be willing to do before any of them step foot on that stage is throw a f*****g fireball in their face, you got it?
The girl just nods, over and over, like she’s just hearing the 1981 classic Working for the Weekend for the first time. What? I’m Canadian, f**k off. While all this is going on I can hear Bobby Abadi’s words echoing out through the speaker system, and the introduction of some guy called Shaggy. I knew this thing was going to be a mess but I didn’t expect Mr. Boombastic himself to show up.
Trace Demon: F**k this hole.
As I storm off all dramatic like I realise that it isn’t multiplatinum selling recording artist Orville Burrell on stage, but someone speaking with the most messed up accent I’ve ever heard, and I’ve been to Pittsburgh.
Shuggy: unintelligible Scottish… Excited I am… are those words he’s saying? thing for one second that something about his daughter I think… how long it’s gonna last, but I’m… seriously I’ve heard Montreal Canadiens fans make more sense than this… hear from the EBRs, the Josh Deans, the DGXs… oh this is the bit where he namedrops all the legends, classic the likes of Drakz… he’ll be saying my name any second now, just for a cheap pop… Kyzer… any second now… Phillip Schneider… the f*****g f**k is this f*****y?!
My blood boils, how dare this nobody, this boy who speaks no sense, claim to name the legends of the WFWF and leave my name off of that list? Is this what I’ve become, is this what I’ve made myself, somebody people think can be disrespected? I will not have this, I will not allow it!
Stagehand: Sir, you can’t go-
Before I even realise it I’m storming the stage, shoving a stagehand over in the process. I see Shuggy coming towards me, and I know I could obliterate him here and now, teach him a lesson for his display of disrespect, but the boy can wait, it’s time for the world to remember who I am.
It’s time for the whole world to remember Trace f*****g Demon.
< *** >
Now
How did it come to this, lying here, next to her, just days away from a return to the ring? I hate the woman lying next to me, and I curse whatever primal part of the human brain that makes hate f*****g so damn good. I should kick her our right now for breaching the no sleeping over rule, who does she think she is, suddenly thinking she’s good enough to fall asleep in my bed, in my house, under the same roof where my child sleeps?
The audacity of the woman.
Maybe I would be less irritated if I could actually manage to sleep, but sleep hasn’t come so easily the past few days, as the realisation truly sets in of what I’m going to do, and the risks that that entails. Of course I could lie here dwelling over medical advice all I want, but where would that get me? So instead I roll out of bed, slip on my boxers and quietly, purely because I have no interest in discussing anything with this stain of a woman, exit my bedroom.
Without thinking I find myself to the door of my private study. I used to spend days on end here, watching tape, going over strategies, developing game plans and backup plans. It’s what I was known for, my mind, having backup plans for backup plans. But now? I haven’t stepped foot in this room for nearly two years.
I push the door open and step inside. There’s no need for a light, the moonlight shining in through the window illuminating the room. It’s just how I left it, the TV on the wall, the desk in the corner, papers still strewn across it. I rest my hand on the seat in the middle of the room, the one I’d sit in when watching footage, and my eyes rest on the wall where rows of shelves hold up the many championship belts I’ve won. They give you a personalised replica when you win a title, a trophy of sorts, to remember your past glories. I’ve got plenty of them, but right now there’s only one that matters, only one that my eyes settle upon as I set down.
I don’t know how long I’m sat there staring at it when I hear familiar footsteps approach the door. I’d hoped that if she woke up and realised I’d gone that she’d get the message and get the hell out of my house, but I’ve been trying to give her the boot from my life for years with little success, why would she possibly start playing ball now?
Her: What’re you doing in here, getting all weepy over past glory? Not like you’ve had any recently to celebrate.
I don’t give her the dignity of an answer as she pulls out the wooden chair from my desk and sits on it. I realise she’s wearing one of my old t-shirts, which irritates me further. She's getting far too comfortable.
Her: Oh I get it, you’ve got your big return in a few days, right? And the whole reason for this match is that title.
The WFWF World Heavyweight Championship, the first of two that I won, back in 2010. I don’t remember a lot about that time, I was on a whole cocktail of drugs and booze back then, but I do remember that feeling of holding that title for the first time, of being declared the best the WFWF had.
Her: If you’re gonna sit here in silence I’m just going to keep talking, you know that right?
Trace Demon: Oh f**k off.
Her: Finally, he speaks. So what’s this all about, you trying to remind yourself how great you are, tell yourself how you beat DGX once so you can beat him again?
Trace Demon: What’s everyone’s obsession with thinking that this match has anything to do with DGX for me? Like he matters at all?
Her: I mean it’s DGX, he’s always kind of been a big deal. Plus you’ve got history.
Trace Demon: We’ve fought one-on-one once, and I won. All that stuff in the XWA? That wasn’t anything to do with him, not really, that was all about Rated X thinking they ran the place, that they were better than everyone else. Well look what happened to them, Alex Sean’s stuck doing to convention circuit, I’m still living rent free in DGX’s head eleven years later and EBR? He’s gone the whole returning hero route because he’s got f**k all else going for him personality wise. So no, believe it or not I don’t much care about the fact this is me and DGX, if anything he’s the only person who has shown any sense because at least he’s smart enough to remember who the f**k Trace Demon really is.
And just like that I know I’ve over shown my hand.
Her: Ah, right, I get it.
Trace Demon: You get what?
Her: This, this whole thing, you in here thinking about past glory. But it isn’t the glory you’re thinking about, is it? It’s the fear, and the respect, and the memory of how people used to talk about you. You’re getting all soppy because you think they’ve forgotten about you.
Trace Demon: I carried the WFWF on my back for over a decade. While everyone else came and went, including the likes of DGX, I was eternal. And yet all anybody wants to speak about is EBR, or DGX, or even Drakz and Kyzer-
Her: Who aren’t even coming back.
Trace Demon: Exactly! Where’s my respect, eh? I broke bones, bled buckets, gave it everything I had for the WFWF and sure, half the time I was trying to tear it down but still, I risked my life for this company time and time again and yet I’m still somehow second best? Unacceptable.
Her: So that’s why you’ve gone back, to remind people who you are? That’s always been your MO Trace, everything you’ve ever done, all the times you tried to end or save the WFWF, it was all so that people would talk about you, this isn’t any different.
Oh trust me, it’s going to be different. This time it’s simple, either I get the respect I deserve or I finish the one job I never finished.
Her: I’m going back to bed.
And what job is that, you might be asking yourself?
Trace Demon: I never said you could sleep over Lila.
Well it’s pretty simple, if you ask me.
Lila Sleater: I don’t really care what you did or didn’t say Trace.
Either the WFWF shows me the respect I deserve, the respect I’ve earned.
Trace Demon: You will.
Or I kill it dead, once and for all.
Trace Demon: You all will.
Either way, I will have my legacy, in either gold… or in blood.
< *** >
Well it’s certainly been a while, right? I’ll need to remember how to do this exactly.
So the WFWF is back, because some things just can’t stay dead, right? And we’ve got a new big boss, Bobby Bibidi himself, and from what people tell me he’s quite the businessman, and a good guy to boot. Now I can’t speak for the latter, because I’ll be honest with you he’s not really made the effort to speak to me, which is strange, don’t you think? That the big boss hasn’t tried to personally get in touch with his star attraction?
The former though, him being a good businessman, now that I can speak to, because I think we’ve already proven that that isn’t true. I think Bibidi’s actions so far are more than enough evidence for us to determine that that is a bare faced lie, because how could a good businessman buy a wrestling company, put on a big return show… and then not put the best damn professional wrestler in the world in the main event? I mean did you see that main event? How’re you gonna launch a wrestling empire on the back of Mr. Section C himself Alex Sean, when that is the level of performance he’s gonna give you?
But fortunately for all you lot out there this week you get a main event worth talking about, because you get Trace Demon going one-on-one with DGX for only the second time in history. That’s a pretty big deal. And you are talking about it, don’t worry, I’ve heard and I’ve seen all the chatter. My only problem though is what you’ve all chosen to focus on. Even the preview for the show seems to think that this match is all about seeing whether DGX can rectify his one black mark and continue on with establishing some legacy for himself.
This match seems to have been set up with the idea that DGX is the star of the show. Well I’m here to correct that misconception. You see Trace Demon doesn’t play second fiddle, he isn’t a supporting act, I’m not stepping foot in that ring with the intention of making DGX look good as he tries to cement his legacy, because I’ve got a legacy of my own, and it’s a legacy bathed in blood and broken bodies, including DGX. In 2010, when I beat DGX and became the WFWF World Heavyweight Champion… I wasn’t half the man I became, I was still young, and learning, but even then, even before I became the man I am now I had more than enough about me to beat DGX fair and square in the middle of that ring.
So D, I’m afraid that this is one black mark that ain’t coming out in the wash, this is one loss that you aren’t going to be able to avenge. And it isn’t because your passed your prime, it isn’t because you’re the man you used to be, it’s simply because I am better than you. I was better than you in 2010, I was better than you in the XWA in 2013 and we both know that if you didn’t have your pathetic crew in Rated X you never would’ve come close to me, and I’m better than you now. The simple fact is that it doesn’t matter who owns this place, it doesn’t matter who books it, this is my house that I built with my bare hands, that I raised on my very broad shoulders, and you know it.
And if everyone wants to see this as the DGX show then more fool them, but I’m more than happy to play spoiler, believe it or not I kinda enjoy it. And when I’m through with you DGX and you’re flat on the mat looking up at me for the second time, I won’t even say I told you so, because you knew it all along. I am Trace Demon, I am better than you, I am the WFWF, I am not the first hurdle on the way to you cementing your legacy. You are simply the first to fall as I cement mine. But don’t worry, I’ll do you one favour.
I’ll make sure you get a nice little footnote in the book of Trace Demon.
