Post by James Stall on Jun 30, 2011 3:30:40 GMT
Let me tell you about family.
My grandfather, my uncle, and my Godfather are all established legends in this business. My father was… less successful. My tag team partner is a cousin of sorts. We’re not blood relatives, and before we started seeing tag teaming together I’m sure I’ve only seen him five or six times. But his father is my Godfather and more importantly his father tagged with my grandfather for years. In this business that makes us family.
My whole life I’ve been surrounded by wrestling. I remember the first time I saw Grandpa Joe compete live. It was for the Intercontinental Title against my Godfather, Marcus Brody. UCW was on a special American tour and the whole family packed into our cars and drove on down to Washington D.C. for the show which took place on July 4th 1999. I was seven. At the time Grandpa Joe was still being booked as being from Washington D.C., even though he’s been living on Long island since before I was born, and UCW was just starting to hit its stride and gain a following in America. The matchup was the main event of the evening and was a big deal.
Now, I’ve been watching tape of my Grandpa wrestling since I was four, but seeing Joe Stall versus Marcus Brody live was one of the greatest experiences of my life. Brody was the reigning Intercontinental Champion, and both men were in the middle of a heated feud after losing their tag team titles to Top Dog and Unknown a month earlier. It was a classic matchup of brute strength versus technical skill. I remember watching Grandpa Joe trying to beat the stuffing out of Uncle Marcus while Uncle Marcus artfully bounced around the ring and hit Grandpa Joe with all manner of suplexes. The two were putting on a clinic of contrasting styles.
I remember standing on top of my seat as Grandpa Joe hit Brody with the first Sergeant Spinebuster, and I remember Uncle Marcus kicking out of the cover two and a half seconds later. I remember spilling my soda when Grandpa hit a chokeslam so huge that I swear the arena shook. Momentum switched back and forth constantly. At times Grandpa Joe was tossing Brody around like a rag doll. At other times Uncle Marcus looking like he was teaching a class on technical wrestling with Gramps as the practice dummy. I thought for sure Uncle Marcus would have tapped out to the Captain Clutch, but he managed to fight his way out of two of them, and Grandpa Joe withstood every suplex Brody through at him. I’m sure Uncle Marcus must have used his entire in-ring arsenal that night, and every time he got a lot of momentum Grandpa Joe would stop him with a big boot, or a clothesline, or a kick to the stomach followed by a thunderous powerbomb.
At one point it looked like Uncle Marcus had the match in the bag. Gramps was staggering around the ring panting, and I was near crying. Brody was punishing him with suplex after suplex, but nothing was keeping the “Captain” down. So Brody Irish-whipped Grandpa Joe into the turnbuckle and began to climb. He was attempting to pull the man mountain up with him when Grandpa Joe tugged on his leg and sent him falling down into a seated position on the top of the turnbuckle. Gramps hit with a hard right, then a left. Then he did something I’m not sure I’ve ever seen him do since. He climbed that turnbuckle. He pulled Brody to his feet. He lifted Brody up over his head. The crowd roared with approval as Grandpa Joe held him there for a few moments before dropping him to the mat with a powerful bodyslam. And then for about a second my Grandpa flew. He flew right to the ground and landed on Uncle Marcus with an immense legdrop. To ensure his victory Grandpa Joe picked Brody up and slammed him down with a Sergeant Spinebuster. To sate the crowd he did it again. He hooked Uncle Marcus’ legs and the ref counted to three. It was the conclusion to what was easily the greatest Intercontinental Title match in UCW history, and I would rank it as one of the top ten matches in UCW history period.
Afterward I remember Grandpa Joe taking us out and buying me ice-cream. I remember sitting on his lap while trying to eat my two scoops of rocky road with the Intercontinental Title across my chest. Uncle Marcus walked in and, after shaking my Grandfather’s hand bought him a beer. There’s no telling how important that match was for UCW or for the careers of both Joe Stall and Marcus Brody, but for me that moment changed everything. Before that I had only liked wrestling. After that I knew it was what I wanted to do for a living. I became obsessed. I went home and rewatched every tape I had of Grandpa Joe for hours. I spent two summers in 2001 and 2002 with Grandpa in England. I’ve spent the majority of my life wanting to be my Grandfather, and now I’m finally in FWF and I’m not sure I want that anymore.
It’s been a five days since my defeat at Live-Wire to Sah’ta Thor. I’ve fallen even further behind in the Lost Heroes League, and my plane leaves England tomorrow for WarZone on Friday. At WarZone I’ll defending my tag team titles and sharing the ring with my Grandfather who is the reigning World Champion and the entire reason I am in this business. I should be both incredibly excited and extremely nervous. I am one of those things. I’ve just come from a training session at the FWF Academy with my uncle, Marcus Brody whom I’m sure will be having another training session with my Grandfather shortly. Grandpa Joe has yet to come clean to me about training with Brody.
Right now I am walking up the stairs and passed a rather attractive woman who is holding a folder in one and a cup of coffee in the other. She smells of lavender and her blonde hair bounces on her shoulders as she steps gracefully down the stairs. I turn my head for a moment to admire the swaying of her shapely rear end and nearly collide with another, fatter, man. He excuses himself and shuffles around me. I continue on my way and head down the long hallway to the office of my uncle, the Chairman.
Uncle Pain has recently flown in to England for a meeting with the board and to oversee last minute travel details for WarZone. I made an appointment yesterday with his personal assistant Aliya and ten minutes later I received a call from him saying I didn’t need a make an appointment and suggesting that I meet him for dinner that night. I informed him that I was busy and would meet with him at the time I had scheduled.
So here I am standing in front of the Chairman’s door. I know he’s expecting me. My hand grasps the doorknob, and I hold it there for a moment before slowly turning it and letting myself in. I step into the well-furnished office with its large oak desk, white couch, two matching chairs, and countless photos of my uncle with various FWF Warriors and important moments in FWF history. My uncle’s high backed leather chair is turned around.
“Good afternoon.”
I stand there with my legs shoulder with apart as my uncle’s leather chair slowly spins around. He looks at me with his daily two pm scotch in his hand.
“I get wanting to see me.”
He sips his scotch and motions for me to sit down, but I decline.
“And I get being too busy to have dinner.”
He calmly sips again. At this point he usually would have offered me a glass by now, at least when we’re in England where the drinking age is eighteen. However, he simply looks down at his glass and then back at me.
“What I don’t understand is why you’re here.”
I didn’t expect that you would, but I’m tired of feeling like a nobody around here and I wanted to set the record straight. Should I take a seat? Maybe I should take a seat.
“Can’t a guy just have a chat with his favorite uncle?”
No. I’m going to stay standing. I’m just going to stand here with my feet shoulder with apart, and I have some pretty broad shoulders, and watch as Pain slides forward in his chair and sets his glass of scotch on the desk. His lips move to the side as if he was biting his gum and he nods.
“He could. And he could have easily flown back home to see me. Or he could have paid me a visit at my hotel in town. Instead he specifically came to see me in my office.”
I could have, but I want you to get the point. I want to be treated like a professional right now, not like a member of the family because what I have to say is going to be very important. My heart is beating faster. Just remember to breath.
“Look I…”
Come on. I can do this. Just breath.
“What’s the matter?”
I was getting to that just give me a little bit of time. Alright, I’m just going to say it.
“Grandpa Joe is getting training from Marcus Brody Senior.”
Well I guess that’s part of it. Good start. It’s better than just standing here stammering.
“I know.”
Of course you do.
“He told you?”
Because that wouldn’t surprise me at all.
“No. Why would he? It’s none of my business.”
None of your business? How is it none of your business? You’re the FWF Chairman, and his son in-law.
“So how do you know?”
I’m watching you uncle. I’m watching you with your fingers tented and your elbows wresting on your desk. Don’t try to read me. Just tell me how you know about Grandpa Joe getting training help again.
“I’m the Chairman of FWF. I know everything that goes on around here.”
So it is your business? Or it wasn’t and you just made it your business? See I don’t think people think about what they’re saying anymore.
“But he didn’t tell you?”
Just like that. He already answered that question, idiot.
“Again, who he gets training from is none of my business.”
So you made it your business anyway? Or you just happened to find out because you own this company so someone somewhere must have seen them training together and then it got word to you. Maybe it was the attractive woman that I passed on the stairs. Or maybe it was that fat man, he looked eager for approval. But why didn’t anyone tell me? Why didn’t he tell me?
“I just don’t know why he didn’t tell me.”
Pain shrugs his shoulders, throws his hands out wide and huffs as if the answer were the most obvious thing in the world.
“Why would he? He didn’t even tell me, and I’m his son in-law and his boss.”
Well I know he didn’t tell you but-
“Still…”
He holds one hand up with the palm facing me like a crossing guard. With the other he grabs his scotch.
“Stop being silly.”
“I’m not being silly.”
I watch the chair slide backwards and then forward again as my uncle resets himself and drinks some of his scotch.
“Yes you are. This isn’t even that big of a deal.”
“It is.”
He calmly takes another sip of scotch. It’s probably Glenlivet. He loves Glenlivet. It could very well be older than me. How can he drink it so calmly?
“Why? So he’s getting training. So what?”
So what? How are you so calm? Alright, I can play this game too. I will take a seat. I’ll take a seat right here in this white leather armchair… comfy.
“It’s just…”
“What? What’s the problem?”
The problem is I feel trapped by this company. I feel trapped by my family, and the fact that I feel trapped while my next match will be inside a double wide steel cage has not escaped me.
“He’s training.”
Pain cocks an eyebrow and nods again but very slowly this time.
“Right. So?”
Obviously I need to repeat myself.
“He’s training.”
“And?”
God damnit! Don’t you get it?
“That’s it. He’s training. Why is he training?”
Pain leans forward and rests his elbows on his desk again.
“Because he wants to stick around.”
I lean forward in my seat. Again, two can play this game.
“And do what? He’s already number one. What else does he have to prove?”
I know what you’re going to say before you even say it.
“That he can still do this.”
I kick the desk with such force that I swear my foot almost went through the oak.
“He’s sixty years old! He walked in at his age and beat three other men in the biggest night in wrestling. He’s going to defend his title at WarZone. And then what? What more is there to still do? Why stick around?”
“I told you. It's because he wants to prove to himself that he can. It's that simple.”
“It’s a miracle that he can still put in such a great performance at his age. But he’s killing himself out there. He keeps going and he’s going to really hurt himself.”
I hadn’t noticed it before, but my hands are out in front of me and I’m leaning on the edge of my seat. I can feel the heat in my face. Pain reacts far too calmly. Can’t you just be agitated for once?
“His health? Is that what this is all about?”
Pain reclines back in his chair. I collapse into mine. My arms fall limp at the sides and my neck bends over the back to my head is facing the ceiling. My mouth hangs open stupidly.
“No.”
“Then what is it?”
I try my best to straight up. I manage to look directly at Pain again, but my arms are still limp and my legs are still outstretched. I’ve slid down so there is a gap between my back and the back of the chair where it meets the seat.
“It’s…”
“Well?”
All my limbs work as one again as I snap back up in the chair. My back lies flush with the chair like a board.
“When is it going to be my time!?”
Pain sits up as well. For a moment my uncle seems completely surprised.
“What?”
He thought I was past this, past the insecurities, past the feeling of insignificance. He thought wrong.
“He’s the world champion. Great. When is he going to retire? When am I going to get the chance to make a name for MYSELF?”
Now he’s going to try and reassure me.
“James you are-“
“No! I’m not. I’m Joe Stall’s grandson. I’m Pain’s nephew. I’m Marcus Thomas Brody’s tag team partner. No one knows me as James Stall.”
You have to be patient James.
“You have to be patient James.”
See? I can read your mind.
“I tried that. And now what? Now he’s getting training. Now he wants to stick around even longer. I really thought that I’d help him defend his title at WarZone, and by Jealousy he’d be ready to retire for good. But now how much longer is he going to be here? Another year? Two? Five years? And I’m just stuck here in his shadow for all that time?”
Now he’s going to tell me to listen to him.
“James. Listen to me.”
So predictable. But that’s good. Means I’m in control now. Time to lay it on.
“No. It’s not fair. When he first came back I thought, great Grandpa’s gonna take one last shot at glory. But he’s supposed to step aside. It’s supposed to be my time. I made it to the semi-finals of the Jealousy Tournament after beating four incredible teams for the tag team titles in a gauntlet match. And since then what? I’ve done nothing.”
I’m standing again. This wasn’t planned. I should sit. I should definitely sit again. I’m looking back at my chair now. Find a reason to sit.
“You beat WBL and Benny Starr that’s something.”
My head snaps back toward Pain. Okay. Yeah technically I beat them, but it wasn’t me who walked away with the pin. It wasn’t me the commentators and the fans were impressed by. It wasn’t me who walked away with any sort of recognition.
“And who got the pin in that match? Marcus? It’s always Marcus.”
And now I have to go into WarZone with him by my side again. And not only that I have to stand there with my Grandfather too. That’s two people that will without a doubt find a way to overshadow me. I really need to find a way to sit back down again.
“You beat WBL by yourself. That’s an accomplishment for you.”
There we go. There’s my opening. Take a pause here. Think about it and sit back down. Yeah I beat WBL by myself. That’s something, but I’ll still never get the recognition I deserve for it and I know exactly why. Sitting now. It’s a good thing this chair is comfortable.
“Maybe. And then what does it get compared to? You. Everyone sees me beat WBL and the first thing they think back to is the time when you beat WBL. I’m always compared to everyone else. And I’m never as good as anyone else.”
Now it’s Pain’s turn to stand. He walks over to me and does that thing where he places his hand on my shoulder and tries to reassure me.
“James you are a talented young man. You just have to have patience. It may take time, but you’ll make a name for yourself. Believe me. You’ve got so much potential.”
I’m so tired of him standing over me.
“That’s all I ever hear. Ever since I started training it’s always been about how much potential I have. I’m tired of just having potential. I want something real. I want to be known for actually being good. I want to be myself not a part of someone else’s legacy.”
He’s standing behind me now. Both hands are pressing into my shoulders.
“And you will be. I promise. Give it time, and you’ll make the impact that you want to make. You just have to-”
I shrug him off.
“I quit.”
“You’re not quitting.”
Didn’t miss a beat there did you? But I can tell you’re startled. I get to my feet and head toward the door.
“Yes I am. After WarZone I’m done.”
Uncle Pain’s about to try and stop me. No turning back now.
“James I understand where you’re coming from.”
I stand there with my back to him and my shoulders tensed.
“You couldn’t possibly.”
I can hear him walking toward me
“When I first joined this company I worked my way up from the bottom. Something like five people even remember we had a cruiserweight title and that and the hardcore title were the only belts I could get.”
He’s standing next to me now. I still don’t move.
“What’s your point?”
He rests a hand on my shoulder again. I toss it off again and move toward the door. He grabs my arm.
“My point is the hardcore title was a joke until I came along and made it something. And by making that title respectable I made a name for myself. You have a belt. Own it. That’s how you establish your name. Then one day you will hold the World Championship.”
I whip around to face him and it’s in that moment that I realize, for the first time in my life I’m taller than him. It’s not much, barely and inch, but I’m taller. And I’m bigger too. Everything is happening faster now.
“And then what? I’ll still just be compared to you and Grandpa Joe. So I win the World Championship. So what? What do I do when you come back?”
I step forward.
“I’m not coming back.”
He steps back.
“Bullshit.”
I push one finger into his chest.
“I’m retired.”
His left leg moves backward. I see his right fist clench.
“Yeah right. You’re what, thirty? You’re not staying retired from wrestling at thirty. I know how this goes. You’ll get bored being a suit eventually, or something will happen that drags you back into the ring. And then I’ll be right back directly in your shadow even if I am World Champion.”
I turn around again. My hand reaches for the doorknob.
“If you’re trying to quit because you’re afraid you might have to face me in the ring that’s stupid.”
I stop. My head sinks.
“It’s not-“
“And cowardly. I had thought better of you.”
I spin around to face him. My head snaps up. My eyes are just above his.
“Look. I don’t have to explain myself to you. I’m done.”
He crosses his arms.
“I’m not letting you quit. I refuse to accept your resignation.”
He’s so sure of himself. I smile.
“You can’t do that.”
He brings his left leg forward again. He’s standing straighter.
“Yes I can. I’m your boss, and you’re under contract.”
I knew he’d try that. I can feel the muscles in my face tighten. My smile gets wider.
“My contract expired, and I never signed my new one. I was going to, but Grandpa Joe asked me to look it over again to make sure I thought the terms were fair. So I exercised my optional one month grace period. Come July ninth my contract is up, and I’m outta here.”
His arms fall to his side.
“You can’t quit.”
Now it’s his turn to feel unsure of himself.
“Oh yes I can. I just told you. Come July ninth you’re not my boss anymore and there’s nothing you can do about it.”
I turn to leave again. He staggers forward and grabs my arm with both hands.
“I’m not speaking as your boss now. Now I’m speaking as your uncle. FWF is the best place for you to be right now.”
He’s barely caught me in time. I turn my head to look and can see the distance has forced him to lean forward. I look down at him.
“You don’t get it do you? I’m not a kid anymore. I don’t have to listen to you.”
He nods.
“You’re right. You don’t. But you should. You really want to be the best? This is where you can do it. You really want to make a name for yourself then you’re better off sticking it out here than going off to try and hack it in some no name company.”
I shake my head.
“We’re done here.”
He lets go of my arm and straightens up.
“I guess we are.”
I turn the handle on the door and make my way out of the office. I’m heading down the hall and back down the stairs. I pass the gym and sure enough I spot my grandfather in the ring with Marcus Brody. I keep walking and in moments I’m out the door and tasting the Manchester air.
Telling my uncle that I quit FWF was one of the hardest decisions I’ve ever had to make, but sometimes you have to make tough decisions and I’m tired of being treated like a second stringer around here. It’s time I started making a name for myself. It’s time people start remembering me for who I am not who I’m related too. No one else knows what it’s been like to struggle under the shadow of such legends. I know Marcus has his dad, but let’s face it Marcus Brody senior was huge in UCW, but his FWF impact hasn’t been that great. Pain and Joe Stall are FWF Hall of Famers. They’re two of the greatest warriors FWF has ever known. No one in the world knows what it’s like to deal with living up to someone like them.
I hit something, and I’m taken so off guard that I fall backward on my ass. I get a look at who it was that I’ve just collided with and see a pair of purple and white converses. The man is getting to his feet and sure enough he’s none other than Danny T. What an incredible coincidence. He’s wearing a purple shirt with a white tie and some very tight white… are those jeggings? My God I knew he was gay but jeggings?
“I didn’t expect to run into you so soon.”
He offers a hand to help me up.
“I didn’t expect you to take running into me so literally.”
I allow him to help me up, and I briefly dust off my jeans.
“Do you always wear purple?”
“I like purple.”
We stand there and stare at each other for a few moments with neither of us knowing what to say.
“So what are you up too?”
Danny snaps to attention with a broad smile. He slings his purple gym bag over his shoulder.
“I’ve got a match in a small show in a gym a couple blocks from here. You?”
“I just quit FWF.”
“Wow. That’s… stupid. That’s really really stupid.”
I shrug my shoulders. I guess he doesn’t get it either.
“Maybe. But I’ve been going nowhere fast there.”
“You mean you’re stalled.”
“That’s not funny.”
Danny laughs to himself and I shake my head. Did he really think I would be amused by puns at a time like this?
“And hey look at yourself. You’ve got yourself booked in a show. You’re doing just fine without FWF.”
Danny just looks past me to the building that houses the FWF Academy and arena. He looks down at his shoes.
“Yeah, but don’t you think that if I had a choice I’d still be in FWF right now?”
He brings up a valid point, but there’s no time to worry about that now. What’s done is done. I clasp my arm around Danny’s shoulders.
“Oh well. I’ll tell you what, why don’t we head on over to that match of yours. I’ll be your corner-man.”
James grabs my hand and moves it away from him. He shakes it and gives it a pat.
“Thanks, but no thanks. You’re more than welcome to buy a ticket and watch the show from your seat though.”
“Fair enough.”
We stoll down the street. Five minutes later we’re in a smelly overcrowded gym, and Danny is arguing with the booker.
“What do you mean I’ve been bumped?”
Danny has dropped his gym bag to the ground and has his hands raised in the air. The paunchy booker has his backed turned and is looking at his clipboard.
“I mean you’re bumped kid. That’s all there is to it.”
Danny grabs the booker by the arm and spins him around.
“You can’t bump me. I have a contract.”
The booker just stares at him. Is this what working the independent circuit is like? Maybe I should go apologize to my uncle and tell him I’ll be keeping my job anyway.
“Yeah yeah, and you’ll be paid. Now get out of here. I’ve got a show to run.”
Danny shoves the booker with both hands.
“I don’t want the money. I want to wrestle.”
That’s the spirit Danny. Shame it’ll get you nowhere here.
“Hey. Don’t get so shovey or I’ll call the cops on you. The only spot I have left is in a tag team match which I’m going to have to scratch cause Johnny Ego came down with the flu and Eagle can’t get off work. You got a tag team partner?”
Danny looks at me and I’m already smiling. Showtime. I step forward.
“Yes he does.”
The booker looks us both over a scowls.
“Alright, but I’m not paying you extra. You two are splitting the check got it?”
“Deal.”
Alright Danny, looks like now we’re going to share the same side of the ring together. This will be interesting.
“Fine. Go get changed. I’ll tell the Maulers they’re on first after all.”
Ten minutes later and I’m in the ring with Danny and we’re staring down Hekyll and Jekyll as I like to call them. They’re two fat, sweaty, bald (and yet hairy everywhere else) men. Danny as changed into his purple and silver wrestling tights and I’ve taken off my shirt and am wrestling in the blue jeans that I walked in with. Harley and Marley bang heads to decide who is going to start. Apparently Tweedle Dee wins because Tweedle Dum steps out. I look at Danny and then step behind the ring ropes. It’s his show. Only seems fair to let him start off the match. Besides I should really be saving myself for WarZone. After all that’ll be my last match in FWF. I want to walk out with a win.
Danny and ugly grapple in the middle of the ring. Danny quickly slips behind him and nails him with a German suplex. He keeps his hold and hits two more Germans. Mauler number one climbs to his feet, and Danny hits him with a dropkick. His opponent staggers backward, and Danny hooks him into a reverse DDT. He follows this by quickly jumping off the ropes and hitting a springboard moonsault. He gets off of his opponent and walks over to me.
“Bored already?”
He tags me in.
“I could have won by now, but I thought it would be rude to not let you at least get in the match.”
I climb into the ring. Time to let out some extra aggression. I face Danny and back toward the center of the ring.
“I appreciate it.”
I turn around and get clocked by a hard left fist. Apparently ugly managed to crawl over and tag in his partner while I was distracted by Danny. Clenched fists are illegal by the way, but I guess the ref isn’t calling that one tonight. I get slammed with another left. Shit this guy can punch. He’s got no style, but he sure can throw a southpaw. I need to start hitting back. I hit lefty with a right. My hand is unclenched of course. Can’t risk getting us disqualified.
Next I hit him with a kick to the stomach. Then I grab him by the neck and lift him up and into a chokeslam. I pick him up and shove his head between my legs before lifting him up and nailing a powerbomb. I’m not done tossing this sack of meat around though. I pick him up and hit a bodyslam. Then I lift him into a Sergeant Spinebuster.
Danny was right. This is boring. And I should probably let him get the win since this was supposed to be his show. I run over and nail my opponent’s partner with a big boot that knocks him off the apron. Then I walk over to Danny and extend my hand.
“This guy leads with his left. Break it for me please.”
Danny tags in and climbs into the ring.
“No problem.”
Danny waits for Mauler number two to climb to his feet. Sure enough the Mauler takes a swing with his left. Danny catches the Mauler’s arm and wrenches it behind the Mauler’s back. He kicks the Mauler in the stomach before bringing him down to the mat and locking him in a Fujiwara Armbar. Ugly climbs into the ring and runs at Danny. I run in to meet him and catch him with a kick to the stomach followed by a Sergeant Spinebuster. I hear a snap followed by pounding on the mat.
I turn around and Danny is already off of his opponent. His hands are on his head while his opponent writhes on the floor.
“Holy shit! You actually broke his arm?”
The bell rings and the referee raises our arms as the crowd erupts in boos.
“I didn’t mean too. The idiot rolled the wrong way.”
A cup full of Coca Cola narrowly misses me. A water bottle doesn’t. Ow. Our injured opponent slides himself out of the ring. His tag team partner runs at me. I pick him up into a flapjack position and Danny jumps up and hooks him with an Impaler DDT. He rolls out of the ring as a wrestler from the back runs in to avenge his friend.
“I don’t think we’re going to make any friends today.”
The tall scrawny man runs into the ring and I hit him with a big boot. He gets up and Danny runs and nails him with a Dungeon DDT. The twig rolls out of the ring. But two more men have already taken his place in the ring. These two have similar builds to the Maulers.
“Yeah. I wouldn’t count on getting booked here again anytime soon.”
I drive one man right back over the ropes with a clothesline, and Danny hits the other with a roundhouse kick. He hits him with a series of chops that moves him toward the ropes and then dumps him over with a dropkick. A small mountain emerges from backstage and makes its way toward the ring.
“This guy looks like he’s about five hundred pounds.”
“So just lighter than Benny’s wife aye? We’ll take him together.”
Gigantor enters the ring and Danny and I immediately hit him with twin dropkicks. He barely moves. I go for a clothesline will Danny hits a spear and we manage to bring him down to his feet, but he’s quickly up again. I hit him with a big boot and he goes spinning a staggering toward the ropes. Danny quickly grabs his head and jumps off the ropes with a tornado DDT. Danny motions to me and pulls down the top rope. Is he kidding? I pick jumbo up and it takes all my strength but I manage to dump him over the ropes with a bodyslam. The crowd’s booing intensifies. I have to soak this in so I climb the nearest turnbuckle.
“Are you not entertained?”
Another water bottle flies at my head, but I avoid it and jump off the turnbuckle. Three more men are walking down to the ring. Each one is carrying a lead pipe. By now all of the other men we’ve tossed from the ring are up and looking for weapons from under the ring as well. The Mauler with the broken arm his using his good one to try and help Baby Beluga to his feet.
“What do we do now?”
Well eight men are gathering together to kick our asses. Each one is grabbing a weapon. We could stay and fight. We’re good, but not good enough to beat all of these guys at least not without taking a beating ourselves, and I do have a title match to think about. No. This calls for some strategy.
“We’re going to break right through their line and then run like hell out of here.”
Danny looks at the men forming against us and bites his lower lip.
“Right. And how do you plan on doing that?”
I look at him. Then I look at Humungo. Then I look back at Danny. I have a plan.
“I’m going to throw you.”
“What?”
“I’m going to throw you.”
Before Danny can object I pick him up and over my head. I run toward the ropes screaming and toss him at the wrestlers below us. He lays the mountain low with a flying DDT. The others begin to gather around him. Good. They’re distracted. I’m going to do something I seldom ever do. I run and jump off the ropes. I stretch out my six foot six inch two hundred and seventy pound frame into a crossbody and manages to knock down four men. Danny is on his feet and dropkicks the broken armed Mauler into two other wrestlers. We book it out of the gym as more fans attempt to belt us with garbage. Once outside we stop to catch our breath.
“Are you sure you want to quit FWF and deal with that stuff on a daily basis?”
A slap my hand on Danny’s back.
“Are you kidding me? That was exhilarating.”
I smile broadly at Danny and he nods at me. That was seriously the most fun I’ve had all week.
“Well what are we going to do about our clothes? We can’t exactly go back into the locker room to get them.”
This is true. Lord knows how many more people are there waiting to kick our asses. I look back toward the Academy and then back at Danny.
“I have some spare stuff back at the Academy. Come on. I can at least lend you a shirt.”
Danny and I, two shirtless men walk back toward the FWF Academy. Needless to say we are attracting quite a few stares. I am after all incredibly good looking. After that outing I can tell that telling Pain I was quitting FWF was a fantastic decision.
We make it back to FWF and walk into the gym on the way to the lockers. My grandfather is standing by the ring waiting for us. He is red faced and sweaty. The “Captain” lumbers toward us and stands in our path. He looks me dead in the eyes.
“We need to talk.”
To be continued…
.... In Joe Stall's WarZone Rp.
My grandfather, my uncle, and my Godfather are all established legends in this business. My father was… less successful. My tag team partner is a cousin of sorts. We’re not blood relatives, and before we started seeing tag teaming together I’m sure I’ve only seen him five or six times. But his father is my Godfather and more importantly his father tagged with my grandfather for years. In this business that makes us family.
My whole life I’ve been surrounded by wrestling. I remember the first time I saw Grandpa Joe compete live. It was for the Intercontinental Title against my Godfather, Marcus Brody. UCW was on a special American tour and the whole family packed into our cars and drove on down to Washington D.C. for the show which took place on July 4th 1999. I was seven. At the time Grandpa Joe was still being booked as being from Washington D.C., even though he’s been living on Long island since before I was born, and UCW was just starting to hit its stride and gain a following in America. The matchup was the main event of the evening and was a big deal.
Now, I’ve been watching tape of my Grandpa wrestling since I was four, but seeing Joe Stall versus Marcus Brody live was one of the greatest experiences of my life. Brody was the reigning Intercontinental Champion, and both men were in the middle of a heated feud after losing their tag team titles to Top Dog and Unknown a month earlier. It was a classic matchup of brute strength versus technical skill. I remember watching Grandpa Joe trying to beat the stuffing out of Uncle Marcus while Uncle Marcus artfully bounced around the ring and hit Grandpa Joe with all manner of suplexes. The two were putting on a clinic of contrasting styles.
I remember standing on top of my seat as Grandpa Joe hit Brody with the first Sergeant Spinebuster, and I remember Uncle Marcus kicking out of the cover two and a half seconds later. I remember spilling my soda when Grandpa hit a chokeslam so huge that I swear the arena shook. Momentum switched back and forth constantly. At times Grandpa Joe was tossing Brody around like a rag doll. At other times Uncle Marcus looking like he was teaching a class on technical wrestling with Gramps as the practice dummy. I thought for sure Uncle Marcus would have tapped out to the Captain Clutch, but he managed to fight his way out of two of them, and Grandpa Joe withstood every suplex Brody through at him. I’m sure Uncle Marcus must have used his entire in-ring arsenal that night, and every time he got a lot of momentum Grandpa Joe would stop him with a big boot, or a clothesline, or a kick to the stomach followed by a thunderous powerbomb.
At one point it looked like Uncle Marcus had the match in the bag. Gramps was staggering around the ring panting, and I was near crying. Brody was punishing him with suplex after suplex, but nothing was keeping the “Captain” down. So Brody Irish-whipped Grandpa Joe into the turnbuckle and began to climb. He was attempting to pull the man mountain up with him when Grandpa Joe tugged on his leg and sent him falling down into a seated position on the top of the turnbuckle. Gramps hit with a hard right, then a left. Then he did something I’m not sure I’ve ever seen him do since. He climbed that turnbuckle. He pulled Brody to his feet. He lifted Brody up over his head. The crowd roared with approval as Grandpa Joe held him there for a few moments before dropping him to the mat with a powerful bodyslam. And then for about a second my Grandpa flew. He flew right to the ground and landed on Uncle Marcus with an immense legdrop. To ensure his victory Grandpa Joe picked Brody up and slammed him down with a Sergeant Spinebuster. To sate the crowd he did it again. He hooked Uncle Marcus’ legs and the ref counted to three. It was the conclusion to what was easily the greatest Intercontinental Title match in UCW history, and I would rank it as one of the top ten matches in UCW history period.
Afterward I remember Grandpa Joe taking us out and buying me ice-cream. I remember sitting on his lap while trying to eat my two scoops of rocky road with the Intercontinental Title across my chest. Uncle Marcus walked in and, after shaking my Grandfather’s hand bought him a beer. There’s no telling how important that match was for UCW or for the careers of both Joe Stall and Marcus Brody, but for me that moment changed everything. Before that I had only liked wrestling. After that I knew it was what I wanted to do for a living. I became obsessed. I went home and rewatched every tape I had of Grandpa Joe for hours. I spent two summers in 2001 and 2002 with Grandpa in England. I’ve spent the majority of my life wanting to be my Grandfather, and now I’m finally in FWF and I’m not sure I want that anymore.
It’s been a five days since my defeat at Live-Wire to Sah’ta Thor. I’ve fallen even further behind in the Lost Heroes League, and my plane leaves England tomorrow for WarZone on Friday. At WarZone I’ll defending my tag team titles and sharing the ring with my Grandfather who is the reigning World Champion and the entire reason I am in this business. I should be both incredibly excited and extremely nervous. I am one of those things. I’ve just come from a training session at the FWF Academy with my uncle, Marcus Brody whom I’m sure will be having another training session with my Grandfather shortly. Grandpa Joe has yet to come clean to me about training with Brody.
Right now I am walking up the stairs and passed a rather attractive woman who is holding a folder in one and a cup of coffee in the other. She smells of lavender and her blonde hair bounces on her shoulders as she steps gracefully down the stairs. I turn my head for a moment to admire the swaying of her shapely rear end and nearly collide with another, fatter, man. He excuses himself and shuffles around me. I continue on my way and head down the long hallway to the office of my uncle, the Chairman.
Uncle Pain has recently flown in to England for a meeting with the board and to oversee last minute travel details for WarZone. I made an appointment yesterday with his personal assistant Aliya and ten minutes later I received a call from him saying I didn’t need a make an appointment and suggesting that I meet him for dinner that night. I informed him that I was busy and would meet with him at the time I had scheduled.
So here I am standing in front of the Chairman’s door. I know he’s expecting me. My hand grasps the doorknob, and I hold it there for a moment before slowly turning it and letting myself in. I step into the well-furnished office with its large oak desk, white couch, two matching chairs, and countless photos of my uncle with various FWF Warriors and important moments in FWF history. My uncle’s high backed leather chair is turned around.
“Good afternoon.”
I stand there with my legs shoulder with apart as my uncle’s leather chair slowly spins around. He looks at me with his daily two pm scotch in his hand.
“I get wanting to see me.”
He sips his scotch and motions for me to sit down, but I decline.
“And I get being too busy to have dinner.”
He calmly sips again. At this point he usually would have offered me a glass by now, at least when we’re in England where the drinking age is eighteen. However, he simply looks down at his glass and then back at me.
“What I don’t understand is why you’re here.”
I didn’t expect that you would, but I’m tired of feeling like a nobody around here and I wanted to set the record straight. Should I take a seat? Maybe I should take a seat.
“Can’t a guy just have a chat with his favorite uncle?”
No. I’m going to stay standing. I’m just going to stand here with my feet shoulder with apart, and I have some pretty broad shoulders, and watch as Pain slides forward in his chair and sets his glass of scotch on the desk. His lips move to the side as if he was biting his gum and he nods.
“He could. And he could have easily flown back home to see me. Or he could have paid me a visit at my hotel in town. Instead he specifically came to see me in my office.”
I could have, but I want you to get the point. I want to be treated like a professional right now, not like a member of the family because what I have to say is going to be very important. My heart is beating faster. Just remember to breath.
“Look I…”
Come on. I can do this. Just breath.
“What’s the matter?”
I was getting to that just give me a little bit of time. Alright, I’m just going to say it.
“Grandpa Joe is getting training from Marcus Brody Senior.”
Well I guess that’s part of it. Good start. It’s better than just standing here stammering.
“I know.”
Of course you do.
“He told you?”
Because that wouldn’t surprise me at all.
“No. Why would he? It’s none of my business.”
None of your business? How is it none of your business? You’re the FWF Chairman, and his son in-law.
“So how do you know?”
I’m watching you uncle. I’m watching you with your fingers tented and your elbows wresting on your desk. Don’t try to read me. Just tell me how you know about Grandpa Joe getting training help again.
“I’m the Chairman of FWF. I know everything that goes on around here.”
So it is your business? Or it wasn’t and you just made it your business? See I don’t think people think about what they’re saying anymore.
“But he didn’t tell you?”
Just like that. He already answered that question, idiot.
“Again, who he gets training from is none of my business.”
So you made it your business anyway? Or you just happened to find out because you own this company so someone somewhere must have seen them training together and then it got word to you. Maybe it was the attractive woman that I passed on the stairs. Or maybe it was that fat man, he looked eager for approval. But why didn’t anyone tell me? Why didn’t he tell me?
“I just don’t know why he didn’t tell me.”
Pain shrugs his shoulders, throws his hands out wide and huffs as if the answer were the most obvious thing in the world.
“Why would he? He didn’t even tell me, and I’m his son in-law and his boss.”
Well I know he didn’t tell you but-
“Still…”
He holds one hand up with the palm facing me like a crossing guard. With the other he grabs his scotch.
“Stop being silly.”
“I’m not being silly.”
I watch the chair slide backwards and then forward again as my uncle resets himself and drinks some of his scotch.
“Yes you are. This isn’t even that big of a deal.”
“It is.”
He calmly takes another sip of scotch. It’s probably Glenlivet. He loves Glenlivet. It could very well be older than me. How can he drink it so calmly?
“Why? So he’s getting training. So what?”
So what? How are you so calm? Alright, I can play this game too. I will take a seat. I’ll take a seat right here in this white leather armchair… comfy.
“It’s just…”
“What? What’s the problem?”
The problem is I feel trapped by this company. I feel trapped by my family, and the fact that I feel trapped while my next match will be inside a double wide steel cage has not escaped me.
“He’s training.”
Pain cocks an eyebrow and nods again but very slowly this time.
“Right. So?”
Obviously I need to repeat myself.
“He’s training.”
“And?”
God damnit! Don’t you get it?
“That’s it. He’s training. Why is he training?”
Pain leans forward and rests his elbows on his desk again.
“Because he wants to stick around.”
I lean forward in my seat. Again, two can play this game.
“And do what? He’s already number one. What else does he have to prove?”
I know what you’re going to say before you even say it.
“That he can still do this.”
I kick the desk with such force that I swear my foot almost went through the oak.
“He’s sixty years old! He walked in at his age and beat three other men in the biggest night in wrestling. He’s going to defend his title at WarZone. And then what? What more is there to still do? Why stick around?”
“I told you. It's because he wants to prove to himself that he can. It's that simple.”
“It’s a miracle that he can still put in such a great performance at his age. But he’s killing himself out there. He keeps going and he’s going to really hurt himself.”
I hadn’t noticed it before, but my hands are out in front of me and I’m leaning on the edge of my seat. I can feel the heat in my face. Pain reacts far too calmly. Can’t you just be agitated for once?
“His health? Is that what this is all about?”
Pain reclines back in his chair. I collapse into mine. My arms fall limp at the sides and my neck bends over the back to my head is facing the ceiling. My mouth hangs open stupidly.
“No.”
“Then what is it?”
I try my best to straight up. I manage to look directly at Pain again, but my arms are still limp and my legs are still outstretched. I’ve slid down so there is a gap between my back and the back of the chair where it meets the seat.
“It’s…”
“Well?”
All my limbs work as one again as I snap back up in the chair. My back lies flush with the chair like a board.
“When is it going to be my time!?”
Pain sits up as well. For a moment my uncle seems completely surprised.
“What?”
He thought I was past this, past the insecurities, past the feeling of insignificance. He thought wrong.
“He’s the world champion. Great. When is he going to retire? When am I going to get the chance to make a name for MYSELF?”
Now he’s going to try and reassure me.
“James you are-“
“No! I’m not. I’m Joe Stall’s grandson. I’m Pain’s nephew. I’m Marcus Thomas Brody’s tag team partner. No one knows me as James Stall.”
You have to be patient James.
“You have to be patient James.”
See? I can read your mind.
“I tried that. And now what? Now he’s getting training. Now he wants to stick around even longer. I really thought that I’d help him defend his title at WarZone, and by Jealousy he’d be ready to retire for good. But now how much longer is he going to be here? Another year? Two? Five years? And I’m just stuck here in his shadow for all that time?”
Now he’s going to tell me to listen to him.
“James. Listen to me.”
So predictable. But that’s good. Means I’m in control now. Time to lay it on.
“No. It’s not fair. When he first came back I thought, great Grandpa’s gonna take one last shot at glory. But he’s supposed to step aside. It’s supposed to be my time. I made it to the semi-finals of the Jealousy Tournament after beating four incredible teams for the tag team titles in a gauntlet match. And since then what? I’ve done nothing.”
I’m standing again. This wasn’t planned. I should sit. I should definitely sit again. I’m looking back at my chair now. Find a reason to sit.
“You beat WBL and Benny Starr that’s something.”
My head snaps back toward Pain. Okay. Yeah technically I beat them, but it wasn’t me who walked away with the pin. It wasn’t me the commentators and the fans were impressed by. It wasn’t me who walked away with any sort of recognition.
“And who got the pin in that match? Marcus? It’s always Marcus.”
And now I have to go into WarZone with him by my side again. And not only that I have to stand there with my Grandfather too. That’s two people that will without a doubt find a way to overshadow me. I really need to find a way to sit back down again.
“You beat WBL by yourself. That’s an accomplishment for you.”
There we go. There’s my opening. Take a pause here. Think about it and sit back down. Yeah I beat WBL by myself. That’s something, but I’ll still never get the recognition I deserve for it and I know exactly why. Sitting now. It’s a good thing this chair is comfortable.
“Maybe. And then what does it get compared to? You. Everyone sees me beat WBL and the first thing they think back to is the time when you beat WBL. I’m always compared to everyone else. And I’m never as good as anyone else.”
Now it’s Pain’s turn to stand. He walks over to me and does that thing where he places his hand on my shoulder and tries to reassure me.
“James you are a talented young man. You just have to have patience. It may take time, but you’ll make a name for yourself. Believe me. You’ve got so much potential.”
I’m so tired of him standing over me.
“That’s all I ever hear. Ever since I started training it’s always been about how much potential I have. I’m tired of just having potential. I want something real. I want to be known for actually being good. I want to be myself not a part of someone else’s legacy.”
He’s standing behind me now. Both hands are pressing into my shoulders.
“And you will be. I promise. Give it time, and you’ll make the impact that you want to make. You just have to-”
I shrug him off.
“I quit.”
“You’re not quitting.”
Didn’t miss a beat there did you? But I can tell you’re startled. I get to my feet and head toward the door.
“Yes I am. After WarZone I’m done.”
Uncle Pain’s about to try and stop me. No turning back now.
“James I understand where you’re coming from.”
I stand there with my back to him and my shoulders tensed.
“You couldn’t possibly.”
I can hear him walking toward me
“When I first joined this company I worked my way up from the bottom. Something like five people even remember we had a cruiserweight title and that and the hardcore title were the only belts I could get.”
He’s standing next to me now. I still don’t move.
“What’s your point?”
He rests a hand on my shoulder again. I toss it off again and move toward the door. He grabs my arm.
“My point is the hardcore title was a joke until I came along and made it something. And by making that title respectable I made a name for myself. You have a belt. Own it. That’s how you establish your name. Then one day you will hold the World Championship.”
I whip around to face him and it’s in that moment that I realize, for the first time in my life I’m taller than him. It’s not much, barely and inch, but I’m taller. And I’m bigger too. Everything is happening faster now.
“And then what? I’ll still just be compared to you and Grandpa Joe. So I win the World Championship. So what? What do I do when you come back?”
I step forward.
“I’m not coming back.”
He steps back.
“Bullshit.”
I push one finger into his chest.
“I’m retired.”
His left leg moves backward. I see his right fist clench.
“Yeah right. You’re what, thirty? You’re not staying retired from wrestling at thirty. I know how this goes. You’ll get bored being a suit eventually, or something will happen that drags you back into the ring. And then I’ll be right back directly in your shadow even if I am World Champion.”
I turn around again. My hand reaches for the doorknob.
“If you’re trying to quit because you’re afraid you might have to face me in the ring that’s stupid.”
I stop. My head sinks.
“It’s not-“
“And cowardly. I had thought better of you.”
I spin around to face him. My head snaps up. My eyes are just above his.
“Look. I don’t have to explain myself to you. I’m done.”
He crosses his arms.
“I’m not letting you quit. I refuse to accept your resignation.”
He’s so sure of himself. I smile.
“You can’t do that.”
He brings his left leg forward again. He’s standing straighter.
“Yes I can. I’m your boss, and you’re under contract.”
I knew he’d try that. I can feel the muscles in my face tighten. My smile gets wider.
“My contract expired, and I never signed my new one. I was going to, but Grandpa Joe asked me to look it over again to make sure I thought the terms were fair. So I exercised my optional one month grace period. Come July ninth my contract is up, and I’m outta here.”
His arms fall to his side.
“You can’t quit.”
Now it’s his turn to feel unsure of himself.
“Oh yes I can. I just told you. Come July ninth you’re not my boss anymore and there’s nothing you can do about it.”
I turn to leave again. He staggers forward and grabs my arm with both hands.
“I’m not speaking as your boss now. Now I’m speaking as your uncle. FWF is the best place for you to be right now.”
He’s barely caught me in time. I turn my head to look and can see the distance has forced him to lean forward. I look down at him.
“You don’t get it do you? I’m not a kid anymore. I don’t have to listen to you.”
He nods.
“You’re right. You don’t. But you should. You really want to be the best? This is where you can do it. You really want to make a name for yourself then you’re better off sticking it out here than going off to try and hack it in some no name company.”
I shake my head.
“We’re done here.”
He lets go of my arm and straightens up.
“I guess we are.”
I turn the handle on the door and make my way out of the office. I’m heading down the hall and back down the stairs. I pass the gym and sure enough I spot my grandfather in the ring with Marcus Brody. I keep walking and in moments I’m out the door and tasting the Manchester air.
Telling my uncle that I quit FWF was one of the hardest decisions I’ve ever had to make, but sometimes you have to make tough decisions and I’m tired of being treated like a second stringer around here. It’s time I started making a name for myself. It’s time people start remembering me for who I am not who I’m related too. No one else knows what it’s been like to struggle under the shadow of such legends. I know Marcus has his dad, but let’s face it Marcus Brody senior was huge in UCW, but his FWF impact hasn’t been that great. Pain and Joe Stall are FWF Hall of Famers. They’re two of the greatest warriors FWF has ever known. No one in the world knows what it’s like to deal with living up to someone like them.
I hit something, and I’m taken so off guard that I fall backward on my ass. I get a look at who it was that I’ve just collided with and see a pair of purple and white converses. The man is getting to his feet and sure enough he’s none other than Danny T. What an incredible coincidence. He’s wearing a purple shirt with a white tie and some very tight white… are those jeggings? My God I knew he was gay but jeggings?
“I didn’t expect to run into you so soon.”
He offers a hand to help me up.
“I didn’t expect you to take running into me so literally.”
I allow him to help me up, and I briefly dust off my jeans.
“Do you always wear purple?”
“I like purple.”
We stand there and stare at each other for a few moments with neither of us knowing what to say.
“So what are you up too?”
Danny snaps to attention with a broad smile. He slings his purple gym bag over his shoulder.
“I’ve got a match in a small show in a gym a couple blocks from here. You?”
“I just quit FWF.”
“Wow. That’s… stupid. That’s really really stupid.”
I shrug my shoulders. I guess he doesn’t get it either.
“Maybe. But I’ve been going nowhere fast there.”
“You mean you’re stalled.”
“That’s not funny.”
Danny laughs to himself and I shake my head. Did he really think I would be amused by puns at a time like this?
“And hey look at yourself. You’ve got yourself booked in a show. You’re doing just fine without FWF.”
Danny just looks past me to the building that houses the FWF Academy and arena. He looks down at his shoes.
“Yeah, but don’t you think that if I had a choice I’d still be in FWF right now?”
He brings up a valid point, but there’s no time to worry about that now. What’s done is done. I clasp my arm around Danny’s shoulders.
“Oh well. I’ll tell you what, why don’t we head on over to that match of yours. I’ll be your corner-man.”
James grabs my hand and moves it away from him. He shakes it and gives it a pat.
“Thanks, but no thanks. You’re more than welcome to buy a ticket and watch the show from your seat though.”
“Fair enough.”
We stoll down the street. Five minutes later we’re in a smelly overcrowded gym, and Danny is arguing with the booker.
“What do you mean I’ve been bumped?”
Danny has dropped his gym bag to the ground and has his hands raised in the air. The paunchy booker has his backed turned and is looking at his clipboard.
“I mean you’re bumped kid. That’s all there is to it.”
Danny grabs the booker by the arm and spins him around.
“You can’t bump me. I have a contract.”
The booker just stares at him. Is this what working the independent circuit is like? Maybe I should go apologize to my uncle and tell him I’ll be keeping my job anyway.
“Yeah yeah, and you’ll be paid. Now get out of here. I’ve got a show to run.”
Danny shoves the booker with both hands.
“I don’t want the money. I want to wrestle.”
That’s the spirit Danny. Shame it’ll get you nowhere here.
“Hey. Don’t get so shovey or I’ll call the cops on you. The only spot I have left is in a tag team match which I’m going to have to scratch cause Johnny Ego came down with the flu and Eagle can’t get off work. You got a tag team partner?”
Danny looks at me and I’m already smiling. Showtime. I step forward.
“Yes he does.”
The booker looks us both over a scowls.
“Alright, but I’m not paying you extra. You two are splitting the check got it?”
“Deal.”
Alright Danny, looks like now we’re going to share the same side of the ring together. This will be interesting.
“Fine. Go get changed. I’ll tell the Maulers they’re on first after all.”
Ten minutes later and I’m in the ring with Danny and we’re staring down Hekyll and Jekyll as I like to call them. They’re two fat, sweaty, bald (and yet hairy everywhere else) men. Danny as changed into his purple and silver wrestling tights and I’ve taken off my shirt and am wrestling in the blue jeans that I walked in with. Harley and Marley bang heads to decide who is going to start. Apparently Tweedle Dee wins because Tweedle Dum steps out. I look at Danny and then step behind the ring ropes. It’s his show. Only seems fair to let him start off the match. Besides I should really be saving myself for WarZone. After all that’ll be my last match in FWF. I want to walk out with a win.
Danny and ugly grapple in the middle of the ring. Danny quickly slips behind him and nails him with a German suplex. He keeps his hold and hits two more Germans. Mauler number one climbs to his feet, and Danny hits him with a dropkick. His opponent staggers backward, and Danny hooks him into a reverse DDT. He follows this by quickly jumping off the ropes and hitting a springboard moonsault. He gets off of his opponent and walks over to me.
“Bored already?”
He tags me in.
“I could have won by now, but I thought it would be rude to not let you at least get in the match.”
I climb into the ring. Time to let out some extra aggression. I face Danny and back toward the center of the ring.
“I appreciate it.”
I turn around and get clocked by a hard left fist. Apparently ugly managed to crawl over and tag in his partner while I was distracted by Danny. Clenched fists are illegal by the way, but I guess the ref isn’t calling that one tonight. I get slammed with another left. Shit this guy can punch. He’s got no style, but he sure can throw a southpaw. I need to start hitting back. I hit lefty with a right. My hand is unclenched of course. Can’t risk getting us disqualified.
Next I hit him with a kick to the stomach. Then I grab him by the neck and lift him up and into a chokeslam. I pick him up and shove his head between my legs before lifting him up and nailing a powerbomb. I’m not done tossing this sack of meat around though. I pick him up and hit a bodyslam. Then I lift him into a Sergeant Spinebuster.
Danny was right. This is boring. And I should probably let him get the win since this was supposed to be his show. I run over and nail my opponent’s partner with a big boot that knocks him off the apron. Then I walk over to Danny and extend my hand.
“This guy leads with his left. Break it for me please.”
Danny tags in and climbs into the ring.
“No problem.”
Danny waits for Mauler number two to climb to his feet. Sure enough the Mauler takes a swing with his left. Danny catches the Mauler’s arm and wrenches it behind the Mauler’s back. He kicks the Mauler in the stomach before bringing him down to the mat and locking him in a Fujiwara Armbar. Ugly climbs into the ring and runs at Danny. I run in to meet him and catch him with a kick to the stomach followed by a Sergeant Spinebuster. I hear a snap followed by pounding on the mat.
I turn around and Danny is already off of his opponent. His hands are on his head while his opponent writhes on the floor.
“Holy shit! You actually broke his arm?”
The bell rings and the referee raises our arms as the crowd erupts in boos.
“I didn’t mean too. The idiot rolled the wrong way.”
A cup full of Coca Cola narrowly misses me. A water bottle doesn’t. Ow. Our injured opponent slides himself out of the ring. His tag team partner runs at me. I pick him up into a flapjack position and Danny jumps up and hooks him with an Impaler DDT. He rolls out of the ring as a wrestler from the back runs in to avenge his friend.
“I don’t think we’re going to make any friends today.”
The tall scrawny man runs into the ring and I hit him with a big boot. He gets up and Danny runs and nails him with a Dungeon DDT. The twig rolls out of the ring. But two more men have already taken his place in the ring. These two have similar builds to the Maulers.
“Yeah. I wouldn’t count on getting booked here again anytime soon.”
I drive one man right back over the ropes with a clothesline, and Danny hits the other with a roundhouse kick. He hits him with a series of chops that moves him toward the ropes and then dumps him over with a dropkick. A small mountain emerges from backstage and makes its way toward the ring.
“This guy looks like he’s about five hundred pounds.”
“So just lighter than Benny’s wife aye? We’ll take him together.”
Gigantor enters the ring and Danny and I immediately hit him with twin dropkicks. He barely moves. I go for a clothesline will Danny hits a spear and we manage to bring him down to his feet, but he’s quickly up again. I hit him with a big boot and he goes spinning a staggering toward the ropes. Danny quickly grabs his head and jumps off the ropes with a tornado DDT. Danny motions to me and pulls down the top rope. Is he kidding? I pick jumbo up and it takes all my strength but I manage to dump him over the ropes with a bodyslam. The crowd’s booing intensifies. I have to soak this in so I climb the nearest turnbuckle.
“Are you not entertained?”
Another water bottle flies at my head, but I avoid it and jump off the turnbuckle. Three more men are walking down to the ring. Each one is carrying a lead pipe. By now all of the other men we’ve tossed from the ring are up and looking for weapons from under the ring as well. The Mauler with the broken arm his using his good one to try and help Baby Beluga to his feet.
“What do we do now?”
Well eight men are gathering together to kick our asses. Each one is grabbing a weapon. We could stay and fight. We’re good, but not good enough to beat all of these guys at least not without taking a beating ourselves, and I do have a title match to think about. No. This calls for some strategy.
“We’re going to break right through their line and then run like hell out of here.”
Danny looks at the men forming against us and bites his lower lip.
“Right. And how do you plan on doing that?”
I look at him. Then I look at Humungo. Then I look back at Danny. I have a plan.
“I’m going to throw you.”
“What?”
“I’m going to throw you.”
Before Danny can object I pick him up and over my head. I run toward the ropes screaming and toss him at the wrestlers below us. He lays the mountain low with a flying DDT. The others begin to gather around him. Good. They’re distracted. I’m going to do something I seldom ever do. I run and jump off the ropes. I stretch out my six foot six inch two hundred and seventy pound frame into a crossbody and manages to knock down four men. Danny is on his feet and dropkicks the broken armed Mauler into two other wrestlers. We book it out of the gym as more fans attempt to belt us with garbage. Once outside we stop to catch our breath.
“Are you sure you want to quit FWF and deal with that stuff on a daily basis?”
A slap my hand on Danny’s back.
“Are you kidding me? That was exhilarating.”
I smile broadly at Danny and he nods at me. That was seriously the most fun I’ve had all week.
“Well what are we going to do about our clothes? We can’t exactly go back into the locker room to get them.”
This is true. Lord knows how many more people are there waiting to kick our asses. I look back toward the Academy and then back at Danny.
“I have some spare stuff back at the Academy. Come on. I can at least lend you a shirt.”
Danny and I, two shirtless men walk back toward the FWF Academy. Needless to say we are attracting quite a few stares. I am after all incredibly good looking. After that outing I can tell that telling Pain I was quitting FWF was a fantastic decision.
We make it back to FWF and walk into the gym on the way to the lockers. My grandfather is standing by the ring waiting for us. He is red faced and sweaty. The “Captain” lumbers toward us and stands in our path. He looks me dead in the eyes.
“We need to talk.”
To be continued…
.... In Joe Stall's WarZone Rp.
