Post by Marcus Brody Sr. on Jul 2, 2011 20:09:30 GMT
The scene opens up in the Brody family kitchen. Many years ago, it had played host to meals eaten by a happy family of three. With Marcus Brody Sr. as the patriarch, his wife, Rachel, and his son Marcus Jr. but now, in the middle of June 2011 it was only Marcus, alone and miserable with the company of a microwaved ready meal. He nudged the baby carrots with his fork before even contemplating eating them. Everything had made him lose his appetite. Rachel had abandoned him years ago with no explanation, and Marcus Jr. now went by the name MTB and was now living with Marcus Brody's former boss, Sandy Strachon. As he was finally was about the eat his carrot, the doorbell rang. Marcus rolled his eyes back and headed to the front door. He'd expected it to be another salesman, but for once it wasn't. He opened it to see a greying man with a worn out face, washed jeans, a pale blue chequered shirt over a plain royal blue shirt and leaning on a cane. He smiled at Marcus as if he was an old friend.
"May I come in?" said the main.
"Any time, Predator." came Brody's reply. Predator stepped in and hobbled through to the living room. "What brings you here?"
"Does a friend need a reason to visit?" Predator retorted. He settled down in a washy fawn armchair. "This place hasn't changed in years. I always love a nice blast from the past."
"Don't we all?" said Marcus, miserably placing himself down in an opposing armchair. "I'd do anything to relive my glory days."
"Is this because of MTB?" asked Predator.
"Please, don't call him that. He's Marcus Jr... and yes."
"Can't you be happy for once? He's having success and is making a name for himself." Predator leaned over to the coffee table and helped himself to a Worther's Original.
"Ah, do you know what loads of us in UCW used to call these?"
"What?" replied Marcus. He took a puzzled look at Predator. He didn't really care but at least he had some company.
"God sweets. And speaking of Gods, how about Joe's God-like performances. Someone really needs to find out who's been training him. He's in spectacular shape for a sixty-year old man."
Marcus let out a small chuckle and turned his head for a moment. It was a bit of a secret, but Marcus had been the one responsible for helping his friend, rival and former tag team partner "Captain" Joe Stall maintain his run on top as FWF World Champion. When he looked back to Predator, he was giving Marcus a knowing grin.
"You? You're the one training him?"
"Yeah, that's right, Pred. I've been training Joe Stall."
"You know, Marcus. You're only fifty-three right now. I'm sure you've still got it in you to compete. You still had it when we had our match at the UCW Arena last year."
Brody's smile weakened. He should have been fondly remembering such a great match with joy, but that had turned out to be the event where Marcus Jr. met Sandy Strachon, and started his transformation into MTB.
"But Junior said that I'm irrelevent and wouldn't succeed in 2011."
"He's being silly. Sure, Sandy's put some stupid ideas into his head. He's put them in us all. Think of it as a rite of passage to be played by Sandy. I have faith that MTB will learn from it eventually. But so far it's done him well. It doesn't seem like Sandy's completely in his head."
"He's not?" ejaculated, Marcus, sitting bolt upright in his chair.
"No. Did you not see Live-Wire? I was backstage visiting Pain, and I saw Marcus running out of the locker room with a pool cue with Sandy trying to stop him. Your son's gone to jail for trying to save your good friend Joe."
"He did? But he's still working for Sandy and thinks that I'm past it."
Predator's warm eyes turned into the angry glare that fans everywhere knew and loved. He eased himself to his feet and limped across the watery green carpet to look his friend's eyes.
"You can prove him wrong you know... You could make a comeback. As long as you let people know you're not coming back because of Stall and that you're here to prove your son wrong, you'll be fine."
"Are you sure?"
Predator nodded. "You should definitely do it. I'll talk to Bill. I'm sure he'll olige."
For the first time in a while, Marcus Brody was smiling enough for his teeth to show. The next couple of weeks were spent in various gyms. He trained with "Captain" Joe Stall, he trained the students at the UCW School of Wrestling, he's trained in Predator's gym, and Marcus' godson James Stall had even asked him for training too. Marcus was quickly shaking off his ring rust until he finally realised he was ready to return. But when could he?
July 1st was FWF War Zone VII and there was sure to be an availability somewhere. Maybe he could serve as filler in the Battlefield Brawl. Except, this time, he wouldn't just be card filler, he intended to win this thing. As he stared into the whiteboard on the wall with the match listing, he noticed some blank spaces in the list of participants for the Battlefield Brawl. Predator sidled up next to him and placed an arm around him.
"Good to be back, isn't it?"
"Very, and I'm liking the new attire. Blue doesn't work for a man of my age."
His attire was the same as it had been in his later days in UCW: singlet with shorts, but instead of royal blue, everything was maroon.
"Some tough competition in this match. Some upstarts who I recommended FWF sign, and numerous former champions. There's Matt Knox, Camisado, The Devil, Jack Cool. It'll be a hard one to win. And I'm not sure if Pain will even allow to me to enter it."
"I was just having scotch with him a few minutes ago. His office is around the corner. I'll take you."
Predator tapped his cane and limped and hobbled with surprising quickness for someone with knees the state they were in. Marcus turned a corner and saw his son arriving with Sandy Strachon in tow. As he passed, they glanced at each other coldly, with tension that could be cut with a clichéd knife.
"I can feel a chill," joked Predator before they continued down the corridor of the Generic Arena in San Diego, California. Finally they reached a blue door with a sign saying "FWF Chairman Pain" affixed to it. Predator patted on the back.
"Good luck."
Predator smiled as his mentor knocked on the door. A New York accent can be heard through the door.
"Come in!"
Before heading through the door, Marcus turned to Predator and smiled warmly.
"Thank you."
He headed through and closed the door. Could he actually be allowed in? And if so, could he pull off the victory against stiff competition?
"May I come in?" said the main.
"Any time, Predator." came Brody's reply. Predator stepped in and hobbled through to the living room. "What brings you here?"
"Does a friend need a reason to visit?" Predator retorted. He settled down in a washy fawn armchair. "This place hasn't changed in years. I always love a nice blast from the past."
"Don't we all?" said Marcus, miserably placing himself down in an opposing armchair. "I'd do anything to relive my glory days."
"Is this because of MTB?" asked Predator.
"Please, don't call him that. He's Marcus Jr... and yes."
"Can't you be happy for once? He's having success and is making a name for himself." Predator leaned over to the coffee table and helped himself to a Worther's Original.
"Ah, do you know what loads of us in UCW used to call these?"
"What?" replied Marcus. He took a puzzled look at Predator. He didn't really care but at least he had some company.
"God sweets. And speaking of Gods, how about Joe's God-like performances. Someone really needs to find out who's been training him. He's in spectacular shape for a sixty-year old man."
Marcus let out a small chuckle and turned his head for a moment. It was a bit of a secret, but Marcus had been the one responsible for helping his friend, rival and former tag team partner "Captain" Joe Stall maintain his run on top as FWF World Champion. When he looked back to Predator, he was giving Marcus a knowing grin.
"You? You're the one training him?"
"Yeah, that's right, Pred. I've been training Joe Stall."
"You know, Marcus. You're only fifty-three right now. I'm sure you've still got it in you to compete. You still had it when we had our match at the UCW Arena last year."
Brody's smile weakened. He should have been fondly remembering such a great match with joy, but that had turned out to be the event where Marcus Jr. met Sandy Strachon, and started his transformation into MTB.
"But Junior said that I'm irrelevent and wouldn't succeed in 2011."
"He's being silly. Sure, Sandy's put some stupid ideas into his head. He's put them in us all. Think of it as a rite of passage to be played by Sandy. I have faith that MTB will learn from it eventually. But so far it's done him well. It doesn't seem like Sandy's completely in his head."
"He's not?" ejaculated, Marcus, sitting bolt upright in his chair.
"No. Did you not see Live-Wire? I was backstage visiting Pain, and I saw Marcus running out of the locker room with a pool cue with Sandy trying to stop him. Your son's gone to jail for trying to save your good friend Joe."
"He did? But he's still working for Sandy and thinks that I'm past it."
Predator's warm eyes turned into the angry glare that fans everywhere knew and loved. He eased himself to his feet and limped across the watery green carpet to look his friend's eyes.
"You can prove him wrong you know... You could make a comeback. As long as you let people know you're not coming back because of Stall and that you're here to prove your son wrong, you'll be fine."
"Are you sure?"
Predator nodded. "You should definitely do it. I'll talk to Bill. I'm sure he'll olige."
For the first time in a while, Marcus Brody was smiling enough for his teeth to show. The next couple of weeks were spent in various gyms. He trained with "Captain" Joe Stall, he trained the students at the UCW School of Wrestling, he's trained in Predator's gym, and Marcus' godson James Stall had even asked him for training too. Marcus was quickly shaking off his ring rust until he finally realised he was ready to return. But when could he?
July 1st was FWF War Zone VII and there was sure to be an availability somewhere. Maybe he could serve as filler in the Battlefield Brawl. Except, this time, he wouldn't just be card filler, he intended to win this thing. As he stared into the whiteboard on the wall with the match listing, he noticed some blank spaces in the list of participants for the Battlefield Brawl. Predator sidled up next to him and placed an arm around him.
"Good to be back, isn't it?"
"Very, and I'm liking the new attire. Blue doesn't work for a man of my age."
His attire was the same as it had been in his later days in UCW: singlet with shorts, but instead of royal blue, everything was maroon.
"Some tough competition in this match. Some upstarts who I recommended FWF sign, and numerous former champions. There's Matt Knox, Camisado, The Devil, Jack Cool. It'll be a hard one to win. And I'm not sure if Pain will even allow to me to enter it."
"I was just having scotch with him a few minutes ago. His office is around the corner. I'll take you."
Predator tapped his cane and limped and hobbled with surprising quickness for someone with knees the state they were in. Marcus turned a corner and saw his son arriving with Sandy Strachon in tow. As he passed, they glanced at each other coldly, with tension that could be cut with a clichéd knife.
"I can feel a chill," joked Predator before they continued down the corridor of the Generic Arena in San Diego, California. Finally they reached a blue door with a sign saying "FWF Chairman Pain" affixed to it. Predator patted on the back.
"Good luck."
Predator smiled as his mentor knocked on the door. A New York accent can be heard through the door.
"Come in!"
Before heading through the door, Marcus turned to Predator and smiled warmly.
"Thank you."
He headed through and closed the door. Could he actually be allowed in? And if so, could he pull off the victory against stiff competition?
