Post by Lockhart on Mar 15, 2019 22:53:40 GMT -5
I am certain I have figured out the trigger to the power of The Cursed Earth Child. When he fought Earth Child Wade the first time, the rage that came from being beat with a steel chair by Spencer Adams brought out the beginnings of his inner strength. When he faced Jaice, the force that prevented him from being knocked unconscious or from being snapped at the knee… was pain.
The pain of lying to Earth Child Alexander.
The pain of telling Jana Horvat that Alexander was indulging in something he should not have been.
Therefore, there is only one logical conclusion. To trigger Ryan into unleashing whatever is dormant, I must bring about an event in his life that is traumatic enough to bring immense pain or rage.
Or both.
The colored lights in the club were mesmerizing, flashing on and off and spiraling around in an eye-catching display, as a deep, reverberating bass shook the floor and the VIP booth that the #BeachKrew had reserved earlier in the night. The treatment they received had been worthy of a king, with their own private (and admittedly, attractive) blonde waitress who Jared had eyed more than once that night handing them drinks, and the supply of drugs seemingly limitless.
Alexander and Wade were in conversation, one that Ryan couldn’t overhear over the screaming girls who danced along to whatever new tune was playing now.
It had been a while since Ryan had listened to music.
Ryan wore a half-smile over his face as he leaned into the plush leather. He strained his voice, raising it over the noise of the surrounding people.
‘Let’s hit the floor. I’m bored.’
‘I don’t think I could stand if I tried.’ Wade AKA General THICCBOI said, pointing to the dozens of emptied shot glasses and bottles in front of him.
‘Check your shirt pocket. That’s where I put the coke I lent you.’ Alexander said, before turning back to Wade, his words lost in the racket once more.
‘Go find somebody to fuck, I’m convincing this bitch I’m not a cunt. Apparently “someone” told her I’m not a good dude.’ Jared said with a sigh afterward, eyes cast down to the phone, his eyes reflecting its light.
Ryan considered the two options and selected neither. He let out a sharp exhale and then took a deep breath. A poor attempt at calming down. Anger had been an issue lately. Or was the feeling… apathy? He couldn’t tell.
He felt a vibration from his trouser pocket, causing the instinctive movement of the reaching hand to retrieve it. The caller identification read “Amber” and Ryan sat upright, abdomen clenched and lips tight. He swiped on his phone and put her on speaker, bringing it to his right ear while covering the other with his free hand. Even still, her words came muffled and on the verge of… panicked?
‘Ryan… Ryan are you there? I need your help.’
‘What?’
‘I need your help, please. Please, can you hear me?’
He stood up, stomach in knots.
‘My help? What’s wrong? Wh-where are you?’
Wade was chugging down another drink, Jared is preoccupied with his phone.
Alexander’s eyes leveled upon Ryan, eyebrows raised ever-so-slightly.
‘Someone came and… oh, Ryan. I’m so fucking scared. Please, you need to find me.'
‘Are you playin’ fuckin’ games with me?’
‘I swear I’m not. He’s gonna kill me. He’s insane.’
‘Who?’ He waited, no response.
‘WHO?!’ He screamed into the phone, now catching the attention of Wade, who exchanged a glance with Alexander.
The line went dead, Ryan waited hoping to hear something, anything. Nothing came. He shuffled out of the booth, barging forward. The blonde waitress stood in front of him, bottles of wine and whiskey in hand.
‘Care for another drink, handsome?’
‘Move, bitch.’ Ryan said, his tone more alike to a growl than that of a human voice. A short and slim, shaggy-haired male put a hand on Ryan’s chest.
‘Dude, you shouldn’t-‘
‘What did I fuckin’ say?’ Ryan’s hungry eyes swung to the man, who shriveled in the face of theman demon in front of him. Within the same moment, the unfortunate soul hit the floor, sliding across it after being leveled with a heavy shove.
When he next looked up, he saw six-feet of Ryan Lockhart towering over him on the ground. He attempted to move, to retreat from the situation, but he couldn’t. Paralyzed in fear, he watched The Curse approach him. No-one seemed willing to save him.
Except one. A strong-grip attached itself to both of Ryan’s shoulders from behind. Ryan’s face contorted, a scowl forming on his face and his eyes widening. Adrenaline kicked in, and Ryan pivoted to face the new attacker, his fist making a sprint for the jaw.
He came within an inch of landing clean, but stopped himself. Alexander stood face-to-face with him, and from just behind Wade stood on wobbly legs approaching the two. Jared had made no movement, save for a small smile.
‘Fuckin’ hell chill out, man. You tryin’ to get locked up or something?’
Ryan pulled away from his arms, reaching down to his pocket and retrieving the small plastic bag, tossing it to Alexander.
‘Take your fuckin’ coke, I got other shit to be worrying about.’
‘You need backup?’ Wade said, using Alexander as a support to stop him from toppling over.
‘Nope. I’m goin’ solo. I don't need people telling me I need you guys to help me.’ Ryan said, waving an arm in their general direction. His footsteps leaving the club were heavy, each slammed the ground with the force of a man who had had enough.
He is at his limit. He cannot contain it any longer. Jim Thuggin thought, as he cast a watchful, all-knowing eye upon Ryan as he left the club.
During the early hours of the morning, he caught the near six-hour flight back to Boston with a rock sitting in his stomach. This was Torture. Thoughts battled it out within his mind, but none of them made any sense or came to a logical, coherent conclusion.
Who the fuck would take her?
Why did I want to kill that guy earlier?
How do I explain this shit to the guys when I get back? “Sorry dudes, someone has kidnapped the one person I‘ve felt any attachment to. Just have to go casually save her. Oh, and I’m still too much of a fuckin’ pussy to let my walls down and actually attempt to commit to her. I can’t handle the thought of a relationship that comprises anything more than casual sex and drugs.”
Yeah, that’ll go down fuckin’ well, won’t it?
And I got a belt to defend. It keeps gettin’ better.
Within the hour of landing he had packed everything he had brought with him to L.A back into his apartment. It was neat. A little dusty. Still empty without Mark their anymore. It didn’t matter, there was more pressing business at hand. Almost too coincidentally, Ryan received a text from Amber’s number.
Head to the gym that Virgil owned. It will help you find me.
Eyes wide, Ryan began a deep laugh that echoed throughout the room. He called the number, ignoring the text for the time being. Nobody answered, he left a voicemail:
‘You think I’m some fuckin’ idiot? Amber can’t text for shit.’
He chuckled at his own joke before sighing. His lips tightened together, forming a thin line.
‘Whoever you are buddy… you’re in for a rough fuckin’ time, I’ll tell you that much. This isn’t some saint or white knight you’ve called to come save the damsel in distress. I’m the roughest motherfucker you’ll meet in this city; you’ll realize that when I kick your damn door down and come lookin’ for you.
‘Let her go now and I’ll let you off easy. Otherwise? You’re finished.’
He ended the voicemail and played back what he said once more in his head. He laughed after doing this, everything he said sounded ridiculous. But the threat was real, and that was all that mattered.
He stands up and casts his gaze out to the city of Boston, which was awake with the early morning buzz; enjoying the view and the memories the came with it. If his suspicions turn out to be correct and this whole thing is a ploy to bait him into an ambush? It may be the last opportunity he gets to take it in.
So he did, he took in every detail and painted a vivid image in his mind. The buildings, the sun reflecting off them, the cars and all the tiny dots below that were living, breathing people. People that believed in him. A city that believed in him. Boston’s World Champion.
He smiled, and exited through the doorway, heading to Virgil’s gym.
The gym is abandoned nowadays. Before Ryan began his career, this place was a sanctuary. Quiet, but filled with hard-working, honest people. It was where he first learned to fight - or at least attempt to fight. Arriving here should have been a hit of nostalgia, a feel-good moment heading into his sixth World Title defense. Instead, he had came with entirely different intentions. The old, torn red punching bags that still hung, and the dusty, graffiti covered ring canvas held cherished memories - ones that had to be thrust aside in his search for his lover friend.
Sure enough, someone had left a note on the bench he would sit down at after every sparring session. The benches’ timber was scratched, carved into, even splintered in some areas - but it remained firm. Ryan hoped he could do the same.
To The Curse,
You are in a predicament. Stuck between good and evil. Prove you are the man you say you are and save the woman. You have no other option. Defend your WORLD at Battlefield, and you will be one step closer to finding me. If not? She dies.
Ryan pushed the note of the bench and bent down, sitting on it. Each breath came heavier than the last, as his pupils darted from left to right, taking in the hanging bags, the aged wrestling ring, the cracked floors and walls, and the flickering lights he had switched on upon arrival.
And then he looked at the camera. No smile, no carefree grin or wink.
Only the look of a stone cold fucking killer.
‘You thought you’ve seen the most I’m capable of? The worst I can bring to the table? The baddest shit I can do to another human being? The pain, suffering and destruction I can bring about with the snap of my fingers or the wave of my hand?’
He shakes his head.
‘That was nothing compared to what I’m about to do at Battlefield, Jaice. I hope you’re ready, I really do. For the last couple months you’ve been nagging, poking, prodding. You’ve been persistent with it. A great pest. Nice. You worked hard, and I gave you the opportunity to hang at the top of the card with me for a little.
‘But don‘t be fooled, you’re still LEVELS beneath me.
‘You believe you’re the best. I’m about to prove you wrong. For the weeks leading up to our bout you were adamant on the fact I was a coward. A Flash in the pan. A joke. Empty words and idle threats. Someone who needed to feast upon a weakened SJW to win the belt, correct?
‘Then you got into the ring with me, and your whole World fell apart, Jaice. You got your shots in, I’ll give you that. Many of them, in fact. You almost put me down for the count. Almost. Not quite. Nearly. You were “just about” to snap me in half.’
He scoffs.
‘Shut the fuck up and stop having a sook, you limp-dicked nobody. Even after nearly breaking my leg, I still beat your ass. I've NEVER blamed other people for my losses. I don’t call foul and have a cry whenever something doesn’t go my way. Every failure has been a motivating factor, every setback has been something I keep in mind and used to bring me to even greater heights. You? You’re ungrateful. You’re narcissistic. You’re unable to see your own flaws and your inability to reach the level I’m at. Did you ever see me complaining about Andre Aquarius interfering in my first World Title match? Fuck no, I ain't a bitch like you.
‘Before me, nobody cared WHO you were or WHAT you stood for. Now? You’re beloved by the people. You’re not the 201 Guy who is sitting in a league he doesn’t belong in. You’re the underdog who people are praying and hoping for. They’re BEGGING you to take this belt from me… but you won’t be able to.
‘And guess what, Jaice? It’s not because you’re a charisma void. It’s not because you don’t have the size or a marketable look. It’s not even because management don’t believe you’re the star to carry the company like I can.
‘You just aren’t better than me.’
He stands up, pointing to the camera.
‘Fuck the records. Fuck the accolades. I pointed all that shit out last time. Yes, I’ve put you into the ground more times than anyone can bother remembering. Yeah, you’ve had a barely average record these last few months while you’ve been propped to “World Title Contender” status. Yes, every time you’ve stepped in the ring with the #BeachKrew, you have absolutely failed in every conceivable fashion.
‘But you know what?
‘That shit doesn’t matter. Not right now. I’ve got too much at stake and too much to deal with than to talk about petty shit. So let’s talk: Jaice Wilds versus Ryan Lockhart II at Battlefield. Here’s why I’m going to fuckin’ annihilate you when we step into that ring one-on-one.’
He smiles, gesturing to himself from top to bottom.
‘When you see me you feel anger, spite, rage. You want nothing more than to get in the ring and beat the crap out of me. You’re convinced you’ll win. You’re convinced that you’re a veteran of “legendary status” and that between those ropes? I pose no threat to you. While you claim that I was the one overlooking you, the entire time it was the other way around.
‘Because I’m just an entitled child with no respect or grit, right? I haven’t worked hard to get where I am. I haven’t put in the hours like you have. I’ve had to lie, cheat, steal and take advantage of weakened men to get where I am. That’s your whole theory, right?
‘Let’s put that to the test, shall we?
‘Save for SJW, I have entered every match in AW against fresh competition. Whether it be legends, bottom feeders, or anyone in between. I have taken them all on, no unfair stipulations working in my favor, no pre-match assault. Nothing of the sort.
‘That’s all you have on me, Jaice? How uninspiring. Your main point about me being a coward, debunked in a fuckin’ instant. Look at the names I’ve taken out. I won’t do it myself, I don’t need to anymore. Reading out my record and naming the legends and World Champions I‘ve fuckin’ stomped is getting redundant.
‘Everyone knows what they’re getting into when they step into the ring with me… except you. You’re arrogant. Even back when we first faced off, you were the same patronizing, condescending fuck you where all the way back then. You said I had potential, but it wouldn’t be enough to defeat you, right?
‘Now look at where we are. I proved you wrong back then. I proved you wrong at #EffinRager, and knowing you? You still won’t get the hint. You’ll still come at me with the same tired old insults. The same ones that my actions, my victories and losses… have all proven wrong. Everything you say is a manipulation of the truth, a sad try at convincing yourself you can hang with the best.
‘You’re desperate. Clutching at straws. We can all see it. That’s why you hang Wade over my head. You think losing to him haunts me? You think calling him a puppet master and saying he’s pulling the strings pulling my strings will work? Are you delusional, or are you trolling?
‘Either way, you fuckin’ suck at it. You aren’t a manipulative master, and you’re nowhere even close to getting me to reevaluate my position with #BeachKrew. No matter how much you attempt to no-sell us, we are most accomplished and dominant stable in this company, including your Guardians.’
He comes across a heavy bag and stops at it. He inspects it for a moment before leaning on it.
‘Let’s talk about them. Riddle me this, Jaice… how come The Guardians is full of unique, interesting personalities… that immediately become sapped dry the moment you step in their vicinity? Whenever they feature in your promotions, they lose all life and character that made them interesting. They become mere plot devices used to push your own twisted, selfish agenda.
‘Explain how L Verez, a defender of the galaxy, a passionate, fiery and determined individual, a cornerstone of The Guardians and an inspiring presence for your team… suddenly becomes a timid, weak-willed bitch the moment you argue with Claire Hawkins? I don’t understand it. L Verez has dealt with worse and has had much more at stake than just having to sort out a misunderstanding between friends. You’re telling me as soon as Jaice Wilds arrives, she loses everything that makes her, her?
‘What about Damian Kaine? The hardcore warrior that threw ZMAC into a fuckin’ fissure and “killed” him… is suddenly some forgotten presence who has nothing of valuable input to give into your group discussions? Instead, he’s just another hype-man to ride the Wilds train and give him the motivation he needs to succeed. Yeah, that sure fuckin' worked out when The Order of Chaos was around, right?
‘And Claire Hawkins. Witty, intelligent, powerful. But when you’re around? A brat. A sulk. Someone who can’t control her temper, even though in reality we know her to be a calculated individual?'
He sighs.
‘I don’t fuckin get it, man. Are these paid actors, or are these really your so-called friends? You’re a fuckin’ locker room cancer, Jaice. Your dwindling amount of friends and your deteriorating stable is proof of that.
‘What’s even more odd is that you literally came out and said no matter what, whether it be friend or foe, come Evolution when you were World Heavyweight Champion (yeah fuckin’ right) you would destroy them and cause them severe bodily harm.
‘But as soon as Claire says she wants to seize the opportunity for that shot? You crack it. Little old Jaice can’t have anyone going against his regime. Your whole facade of being this honorable warrior who can’t be fazed breaks in half, and you and Claire get into it.
‘This is who you are, Jaice. You aren’t a leader. You aren’t worthy of being Champion. The first person who ever questioned your theoretical reign as World Champion came under fire. That’s all of your insecurity talking. You have a desperate need for attention and for people to like you. You want everyone to fall into line. You don’t want to feel challenged or for anyone to question your skills, your mentality, or anything of the sort. Least of all your pride.
‘You don’t elevate people - you take away from them. My boys and I have dominated from the get-go. That wouldn’t have been possible if I tried to undermine them. You? Like I said, a fuckin’ cancer. A tumor. You spread from one person to the other, trying to get them on your side, trying to convince them you’re this good guy that deserves to be liked.
‘But the second you aren’t showered with praise? That’s it. Jaice Wilds disappears and the ugly, untalented, envious fucker from deep within comes storming out.’
He grins.
‘That’s why you’re so obsessed with me. That’s why you can’t get me out of your head. I reached into your soul, looked deep into your eyes… and I revealed the truth to everyone. You’re a journeyman who has always felt disrespected. The guy who was picked last at the pickup courts. You want that to change, and you’ll do anything in your power to get that to happen. Whether it be telling lies, putting yourself above the people closest to you, forcing them into line and turning them into caricatures of themselves… you’ll do ANYTHING to get this World Title from me, won’t you?
‘Desperation. It’s pathetic. You come crawling back to me every time you want shine, every time you want to headline or need relevance to make you feel like this whole journey has been worth it. All the while, you’ve undermined the aspirations and authority of your friends, you’ve continued to lose at an astronomical, never-before-seen rate of any former World Title contender… and honestly?
‘It’s not surprising. Jaice Wilds, this is who you are. Who knows? Maybe I took you lightly last time. Maybe that’s why you came “close”... but even then, it wasn’t enough. No matter what excuses you make, no matter how you try to spin the story, you fuckin’ lost… and you’ve shown no development since the first time we competed. Meanwhile, I only continue to grow. I reflect on my weaknesses, and I remove them. I think on what I‘ve done wrong and who I‘ve done wrong by... and I do my damn best to fix it. You? You‘re convinced you got robbed. That failure to recognize your failure will be the end of you.’
He strides to the empty, stained ring and rolls underneath the bottom rope. Amidst the flickering lights and the cold temperature of the abandoned gym, Ryan stands in the middle of his sanctuary.
‘Dark Spectre versus Ryan Lockhart. That’s when this started. Wilds versus Lockhart II will put an end to it. Even back then, you were the same deluded, narcissistic, unlikeable motherfucker you were all the way back then. The only difference now is I’ve already exposed you for what you are.
‘And now? I’m going in for the fuckin’ kill. No more games, no more showmanship. I am the best wrestler on the planet. I have fought tooth and nail to get where I am. I have bled, I have fractured bones. I have lost people I’ve loved and I’ve even watched them fall before my eyes.
‘All of it has molded me into the man, the beast you see before you. The one you won’t be able to get through at Battlefield. You will never know what it is like to be World Champion. I will never allow you to touch this gold…
‘Because I am a man of pride. Every week I come out here and put my body on the line, I eagerly look at the line of people waiting to take what is MINE and I defend it. I’ve put The World on my back and the responsibility of being Champion on my shoulders, and that’s where it will fuckin’ stay. Your false words and proclamations don’t change that, no matter how convincing you try to make them sound.
‘They’re hollow. They’re desperate attempts to make someone, ANYONE believe that you stand a chance against me. But unlike you, Jaice? I’m not fighting just for myself anymore. I’ve got my squad to do right by, I’ve got a family to make proud, I’ve got someone I need to save. This isn’t only for me… it’s for them too.
‘And you will never be able to overcome that.
'You'll find that out real fuckin' quick.'
The pain of lying to Earth Child Alexander.
The pain of telling Jana Horvat that Alexander was indulging in something he should not have been.
Therefore, there is only one logical conclusion. To trigger Ryan into unleashing whatever is dormant, I must bring about an event in his life that is traumatic enough to bring immense pain or rage.
Or both.
The colored lights in the club were mesmerizing, flashing on and off and spiraling around in an eye-catching display, as a deep, reverberating bass shook the floor and the VIP booth that the #BeachKrew had reserved earlier in the night. The treatment they received had been worthy of a king, with their own private (and admittedly, attractive) blonde waitress who Jared had eyed more than once that night handing them drinks, and the supply of drugs seemingly limitless.
Alexander and Wade were in conversation, one that Ryan couldn’t overhear over the screaming girls who danced along to whatever new tune was playing now.
It had been a while since Ryan had listened to music.
Ryan wore a half-smile over his face as he leaned into the plush leather. He strained his voice, raising it over the noise of the surrounding people.
‘Let’s hit the floor. I’m bored.’
‘I don’t think I could stand if I tried.’ Wade AKA General THICCBOI said, pointing to the dozens of emptied shot glasses and bottles in front of him.
‘Check your shirt pocket. That’s where I put the coke I lent you.’ Alexander said, before turning back to Wade, his words lost in the racket once more.
‘Go find somebody to fuck, I’m convincing this bitch I’m not a cunt. Apparently “someone” told her I’m not a good dude.’ Jared said with a sigh afterward, eyes cast down to the phone, his eyes reflecting its light.
Ryan considered the two options and selected neither. He let out a sharp exhale and then took a deep breath. A poor attempt at calming down. Anger had been an issue lately. Or was the feeling… apathy? He couldn’t tell.
He felt a vibration from his trouser pocket, causing the instinctive movement of the reaching hand to retrieve it. The caller identification read “Amber” and Ryan sat upright, abdomen clenched and lips tight. He swiped on his phone and put her on speaker, bringing it to his right ear while covering the other with his free hand. Even still, her words came muffled and on the verge of… panicked?
‘Ryan… Ryan are you there? I need your help.’
‘What?’
‘I need your help, please. Please, can you hear me?’
He stood up, stomach in knots.
‘My help? What’s wrong? Wh-where are you?’
Wade was chugging down another drink, Jared is preoccupied with his phone.
Alexander’s eyes leveled upon Ryan, eyebrows raised ever-so-slightly.
‘Someone came and… oh, Ryan. I’m so fucking scared. Please, you need to find me.'
‘Are you playin’ fuckin’ games with me?’
‘I swear I’m not. He’s gonna kill me. He’s insane.’
‘Who?’ He waited, no response.
‘WHO?!’ He screamed into the phone, now catching the attention of Wade, who exchanged a glance with Alexander.
The line went dead, Ryan waited hoping to hear something, anything. Nothing came. He shuffled out of the booth, barging forward. The blonde waitress stood in front of him, bottles of wine and whiskey in hand.
‘Care for another drink, handsome?’
‘Move, bitch.’ Ryan said, his tone more alike to a growl than that of a human voice. A short and slim, shaggy-haired male put a hand on Ryan’s chest.
‘Dude, you shouldn’t-‘
‘What did I fuckin’ say?’ Ryan’s hungry eyes swung to the man, who shriveled in the face of the
When he next looked up, he saw six-feet of Ryan Lockhart towering over him on the ground. He attempted to move, to retreat from the situation, but he couldn’t. Paralyzed in fear, he watched The Curse approach him. No-one seemed willing to save him.
Except one. A strong-grip attached itself to both of Ryan’s shoulders from behind. Ryan’s face contorted, a scowl forming on his face and his eyes widening. Adrenaline kicked in, and Ryan pivoted to face the new attacker, his fist making a sprint for the jaw.
He came within an inch of landing clean, but stopped himself. Alexander stood face-to-face with him, and from just behind Wade stood on wobbly legs approaching the two. Jared had made no movement, save for a small smile.
‘Fuckin’ hell chill out, man. You tryin’ to get locked up or something?’
Ryan pulled away from his arms, reaching down to his pocket and retrieving the small plastic bag, tossing it to Alexander.
‘Take your fuckin’ coke, I got other shit to be worrying about.’
‘You need backup?’ Wade said, using Alexander as a support to stop him from toppling over.
‘Nope. I’m goin’ solo. I don't need people telling me I need you guys to help me.’ Ryan said, waving an arm in their general direction. His footsteps leaving the club were heavy, each slammed the ground with the force of a man who had had enough.
He is at his limit. He cannot contain it any longer. Jim Thuggin thought, as he cast a watchful, all-knowing eye upon Ryan as he left the club.
During the early hours of the morning, he caught the near six-hour flight back to Boston with a rock sitting in his stomach. This was Torture. Thoughts battled it out within his mind, but none of them made any sense or came to a logical, coherent conclusion.
Who the fuck would take her?
Why did I want to kill that guy earlier?
How do I explain this shit to the guys when I get back? “Sorry dudes, someone has kidnapped the one person I‘ve felt any attachment to. Just have to go casually save her. Oh, and I’m still too much of a fuckin’ pussy to let my walls down and actually attempt to commit to her. I can’t handle the thought of a relationship that comprises anything more than casual sex and drugs.”
Yeah, that’ll go down fuckin’ well, won’t it?
And I got a belt to defend. It keeps gettin’ better.
Within the hour of landing he had packed everything he had brought with him to L.A back into his apartment. It was neat. A little dusty. Still empty without Mark their anymore. It didn’t matter, there was more pressing business at hand. Almost too coincidentally, Ryan received a text from Amber’s number.
Head to the gym that Virgil owned. It will help you find me.
Eyes wide, Ryan began a deep laugh that echoed throughout the room. He called the number, ignoring the text for the time being. Nobody answered, he left a voicemail:
‘You think I’m some fuckin’ idiot? Amber can’t text for shit.’
He chuckled at his own joke before sighing. His lips tightened together, forming a thin line.
‘Whoever you are buddy… you’re in for a rough fuckin’ time, I’ll tell you that much. This isn’t some saint or white knight you’ve called to come save the damsel in distress. I’m the roughest motherfucker you’ll meet in this city; you’ll realize that when I kick your damn door down and come lookin’ for you.
‘Let her go now and I’ll let you off easy. Otherwise? You’re finished.’
He ended the voicemail and played back what he said once more in his head. He laughed after doing this, everything he said sounded ridiculous. But the threat was real, and that was all that mattered.
He stands up and casts his gaze out to the city of Boston, which was awake with the early morning buzz; enjoying the view and the memories the came with it. If his suspicions turn out to be correct and this whole thing is a ploy to bait him into an ambush? It may be the last opportunity he gets to take it in.
So he did, he took in every detail and painted a vivid image in his mind. The buildings, the sun reflecting off them, the cars and all the tiny dots below that were living, breathing people. People that believed in him. A city that believed in him. Boston’s World Champion.
He smiled, and exited through the doorway, heading to Virgil’s gym.
The gym is abandoned nowadays. Before Ryan began his career, this place was a sanctuary. Quiet, but filled with hard-working, honest people. It was where he first learned to fight - or at least attempt to fight. Arriving here should have been a hit of nostalgia, a feel-good moment heading into his sixth World Title defense. Instead, he had came with entirely different intentions. The old, torn red punching bags that still hung, and the dusty, graffiti covered ring canvas held cherished memories - ones that had to be thrust aside in his search for his lover friend.
Sure enough, someone had left a note on the bench he would sit down at after every sparring session. The benches’ timber was scratched, carved into, even splintered in some areas - but it remained firm. Ryan hoped he could do the same.
To The Curse,
You are in a predicament. Stuck between good and evil. Prove you are the man you say you are and save the woman. You have no other option. Defend your WORLD at Battlefield, and you will be one step closer to finding me. If not? She dies.
Ryan pushed the note of the bench and bent down, sitting on it. Each breath came heavier than the last, as his pupils darted from left to right, taking in the hanging bags, the aged wrestling ring, the cracked floors and walls, and the flickering lights he had switched on upon arrival.
And then he looked at the camera. No smile, no carefree grin or wink.
Only the look of a stone cold fucking killer.
‘You thought you’ve seen the most I’m capable of? The worst I can bring to the table? The baddest shit I can do to another human being? The pain, suffering and destruction I can bring about with the snap of my fingers or the wave of my hand?’
He shakes his head.
‘That was nothing compared to what I’m about to do at Battlefield, Jaice. I hope you’re ready, I really do. For the last couple months you’ve been nagging, poking, prodding. You’ve been persistent with it. A great pest. Nice. You worked hard, and I gave you the opportunity to hang at the top of the card with me for a little.
‘But don‘t be fooled, you’re still LEVELS beneath me.
‘You believe you’re the best. I’m about to prove you wrong. For the weeks leading up to our bout you were adamant on the fact I was a coward. A Flash in the pan. A joke. Empty words and idle threats. Someone who needed to feast upon a weakened SJW to win the belt, correct?
‘Then you got into the ring with me, and your whole World fell apart, Jaice. You got your shots in, I’ll give you that. Many of them, in fact. You almost put me down for the count. Almost. Not quite. Nearly. You were “just about” to snap me in half.’
He scoffs.
‘Shut the fuck up and stop having a sook, you limp-dicked nobody. Even after nearly breaking my leg, I still beat your ass. I've NEVER blamed other people for my losses. I don’t call foul and have a cry whenever something doesn’t go my way. Every failure has been a motivating factor, every setback has been something I keep in mind and used to bring me to even greater heights. You? You’re ungrateful. You’re narcissistic. You’re unable to see your own flaws and your inability to reach the level I’m at. Did you ever see me complaining about Andre Aquarius interfering in my first World Title match? Fuck no, I ain't a bitch like you.
‘Before me, nobody cared WHO you were or WHAT you stood for. Now? You’re beloved by the people. You’re not the 201 Guy who is sitting in a league he doesn’t belong in. You’re the underdog who people are praying and hoping for. They’re BEGGING you to take this belt from me… but you won’t be able to.
‘And guess what, Jaice? It’s not because you’re a charisma void. It’s not because you don’t have the size or a marketable look. It’s not even because management don’t believe you’re the star to carry the company like I can.
‘You just aren’t better than me.’
He stands up, pointing to the camera.
‘Fuck the records. Fuck the accolades. I pointed all that shit out last time. Yes, I’ve put you into the ground more times than anyone can bother remembering. Yeah, you’ve had a barely average record these last few months while you’ve been propped to “World Title Contender” status. Yes, every time you’ve stepped in the ring with the #BeachKrew, you have absolutely failed in every conceivable fashion.
‘But you know what?
‘That shit doesn’t matter. Not right now. I’ve got too much at stake and too much to deal with than to talk about petty shit. So let’s talk: Jaice Wilds versus Ryan Lockhart II at Battlefield. Here’s why I’m going to fuckin’ annihilate you when we step into that ring one-on-one.’
He smiles, gesturing to himself from top to bottom.
‘When you see me you feel anger, spite, rage. You want nothing more than to get in the ring and beat the crap out of me. You’re convinced you’ll win. You’re convinced that you’re a veteran of “legendary status” and that between those ropes? I pose no threat to you. While you claim that I was the one overlooking you, the entire time it was the other way around.
‘Because I’m just an entitled child with no respect or grit, right? I haven’t worked hard to get where I am. I haven’t put in the hours like you have. I’ve had to lie, cheat, steal and take advantage of weakened men to get where I am. That’s your whole theory, right?
‘Let’s put that to the test, shall we?
‘Save for SJW, I have entered every match in AW against fresh competition. Whether it be legends, bottom feeders, or anyone in between. I have taken them all on, no unfair stipulations working in my favor, no pre-match assault. Nothing of the sort.
‘That’s all you have on me, Jaice? How uninspiring. Your main point about me being a coward, debunked in a fuckin’ instant. Look at the names I’ve taken out. I won’t do it myself, I don’t need to anymore. Reading out my record and naming the legends and World Champions I‘ve fuckin’ stomped is getting redundant.
‘Everyone knows what they’re getting into when they step into the ring with me… except you. You’re arrogant. Even back when we first faced off, you were the same patronizing, condescending fuck you where all the way back then. You said I had potential, but it wouldn’t be enough to defeat you, right?
‘Now look at where we are. I proved you wrong back then. I proved you wrong at #EffinRager, and knowing you? You still won’t get the hint. You’ll still come at me with the same tired old insults. The same ones that my actions, my victories and losses… have all proven wrong. Everything you say is a manipulation of the truth, a sad try at convincing yourself you can hang with the best.
‘You’re desperate. Clutching at straws. We can all see it. That’s why you hang Wade over my head. You think losing to him haunts me? You think calling him a puppet master and saying he’s pulling the strings pulling my strings will work? Are you delusional, or are you trolling?
‘Either way, you fuckin’ suck at it. You aren’t a manipulative master, and you’re nowhere even close to getting me to reevaluate my position with #BeachKrew. No matter how much you attempt to no-sell us, we are most accomplished and dominant stable in this company, including your Guardians.’
He comes across a heavy bag and stops at it. He inspects it for a moment before leaning on it.
‘Let’s talk about them. Riddle me this, Jaice… how come The Guardians is full of unique, interesting personalities… that immediately become sapped dry the moment you step in their vicinity? Whenever they feature in your promotions, they lose all life and character that made them interesting. They become mere plot devices used to push your own twisted, selfish agenda.
‘Explain how L Verez, a defender of the galaxy, a passionate, fiery and determined individual, a cornerstone of The Guardians and an inspiring presence for your team… suddenly becomes a timid, weak-willed bitch the moment you argue with Claire Hawkins? I don’t understand it. L Verez has dealt with worse and has had much more at stake than just having to sort out a misunderstanding between friends. You’re telling me as soon as Jaice Wilds arrives, she loses everything that makes her, her?
‘What about Damian Kaine? The hardcore warrior that threw ZMAC into a fuckin’ fissure and “killed” him… is suddenly some forgotten presence who has nothing of valuable input to give into your group discussions? Instead, he’s just another hype-man to ride the Wilds train and give him the motivation he needs to succeed. Yeah, that sure fuckin' worked out when The Order of Chaos was around, right?
‘And Claire Hawkins. Witty, intelligent, powerful. But when you’re around? A brat. A sulk. Someone who can’t control her temper, even though in reality we know her to be a calculated individual?'
He sighs.
‘I don’t fuckin get it, man. Are these paid actors, or are these really your so-called friends? You’re a fuckin’ locker room cancer, Jaice. Your dwindling amount of friends and your deteriorating stable is proof of that.
‘What’s even more odd is that you literally came out and said no matter what, whether it be friend or foe, come Evolution when you were World Heavyweight Champion (yeah fuckin’ right) you would destroy them and cause them severe bodily harm.
‘But as soon as Claire says she wants to seize the opportunity for that shot? You crack it. Little old Jaice can’t have anyone going against his regime. Your whole facade of being this honorable warrior who can’t be fazed breaks in half, and you and Claire get into it.
‘This is who you are, Jaice. You aren’t a leader. You aren’t worthy of being Champion. The first person who ever questioned your theoretical reign as World Champion came under fire. That’s all of your insecurity talking. You have a desperate need for attention and for people to like you. You want everyone to fall into line. You don’t want to feel challenged or for anyone to question your skills, your mentality, or anything of the sort. Least of all your pride.
‘You don’t elevate people - you take away from them. My boys and I have dominated from the get-go. That wouldn’t have been possible if I tried to undermine them. You? Like I said, a fuckin’ cancer. A tumor. You spread from one person to the other, trying to get them on your side, trying to convince them you’re this good guy that deserves to be liked.
‘But the second you aren’t showered with praise? That’s it. Jaice Wilds disappears and the ugly, untalented, envious fucker from deep within comes storming out.’
He grins.
‘That’s why you’re so obsessed with me. That’s why you can’t get me out of your head. I reached into your soul, looked deep into your eyes… and I revealed the truth to everyone. You’re a journeyman who has always felt disrespected. The guy who was picked last at the pickup courts. You want that to change, and you’ll do anything in your power to get that to happen. Whether it be telling lies, putting yourself above the people closest to you, forcing them into line and turning them into caricatures of themselves… you’ll do ANYTHING to get this World Title from me, won’t you?
‘Desperation. It’s pathetic. You come crawling back to me every time you want shine, every time you want to headline or need relevance to make you feel like this whole journey has been worth it. All the while, you’ve undermined the aspirations and authority of your friends, you’ve continued to lose at an astronomical, never-before-seen rate of any former World Title contender… and honestly?
‘It’s not surprising. Jaice Wilds, this is who you are. Who knows? Maybe I took you lightly last time. Maybe that’s why you came “close”... but even then, it wasn’t enough. No matter what excuses you make, no matter how you try to spin the story, you fuckin’ lost… and you’ve shown no development since the first time we competed. Meanwhile, I only continue to grow. I reflect on my weaknesses, and I remove them. I think on what I‘ve done wrong and who I‘ve done wrong by... and I do my damn best to fix it. You? You‘re convinced you got robbed. That failure to recognize your failure will be the end of you.’
He strides to the empty, stained ring and rolls underneath the bottom rope. Amidst the flickering lights and the cold temperature of the abandoned gym, Ryan stands in the middle of his sanctuary.
‘Dark Spectre versus Ryan Lockhart. That’s when this started. Wilds versus Lockhart II will put an end to it. Even back then, you were the same deluded, narcissistic, unlikeable motherfucker you were all the way back then. The only difference now is I’ve already exposed you for what you are.
‘And now? I’m going in for the fuckin’ kill. No more games, no more showmanship. I am the best wrestler on the planet. I have fought tooth and nail to get where I am. I have bled, I have fractured bones. I have lost people I’ve loved and I’ve even watched them fall before my eyes.
‘All of it has molded me into the man, the beast you see before you. The one you won’t be able to get through at Battlefield. You will never know what it is like to be World Champion. I will never allow you to touch this gold…
‘Because I am a man of pride. Every week I come out here and put my body on the line, I eagerly look at the line of people waiting to take what is MINE and I defend it. I’ve put The World on my back and the responsibility of being Champion on my shoulders, and that’s where it will fuckin’ stay. Your false words and proclamations don’t change that, no matter how convincing you try to make them sound.
‘They’re hollow. They’re desperate attempts to make someone, ANYONE believe that you stand a chance against me. But unlike you, Jaice? I’m not fighting just for myself anymore. I’ve got my squad to do right by, I’ve got a family to make proud, I’ve got someone I need to save. This isn’t only for me… it’s for them too.
‘And you will never be able to overcome that.
'You'll find that out real fuckin' quick.'