Post by Ryan Elias on Jun 3, 2019 22:39:10 GMT -5
JUNE 3rd
Ryan stands with both hands shoved into the front pockets of his wrangler jeans. Before him is the famous Nittany Lion Shrine on the Penn State campus. As he stares, the rawness of the statue hides the very being of its meaning. One paw forward the cat is clearly ready to pounce, and yet perched on the rock it holds its position not ready to give up the high ground. It represents the very embodiment of the moment before the strike. The statues creator perfectly captured the moment, the tensed muscles of the hind legs, and the stare of focus.
Hands still in his pockets, Ryan moves off across the area, making his way to the Penn State Athletics center. The area is calm, many of the students long since left for home, or simply not on campus as the classes have ended, and the summer courses not begun yet. Ryan moves unhindered through the grounds, coming to the Athletic Center, and with a simply push on the door finds his way in. All is quiet in the halls, the only noise the strain of the lights turning on as he activates the motion sensors in the halls.
A few minutes of wandering, combined with a stop at the nearest wall map guides Ryan to his destination of choice. A wooden door with a window in it, the name Cael Sanderson etched into the glass. A feint smile graces the man’s face as he pushes the door open and walks in.
“Help you?” A confused man with a freshly shaved head asks as he stands up from behind his oversized desk.
“You certainly can, no need to stand though, please seat.” Ryan says as he glides through the door and takes a seat in a chair at the front of the man’s desk. “I insist, please sit, or I will feel like an asshole being the only one who is seated.” Ryan crosses his left leg over the right and neatly folds his hands on his lap.
“Seated or not you should feel like an asshole either way, you just barged into my office and had the nerve to sit. Who the hell do you think you are?” The man remained standing, a vein in his forehead beginning to bulge.
“Well I don’t think I am anyone, I know I am Ryan Elias, and you are Cael Sanderson, so please have a seat Cael, you don’t mind if I call you that do you? Ah never mind, relax before you have a heart attack or something, you have turned a different shade of Red.” Ryan motioned with his right hand in a soft way, his voice so soft and mellow it helped to guide the man to a calm state.
“So you clearly know who I am, and yet you still walked in here like that. You must have a set on you. Either way I still feel at the disadvantage here.” Cael sat down in his chair, and took a posture of readiness.
“No need to posture, your resume speaks for itself, and as for me, I just told you who I am.” Ryan settled into the chair even more, giving more advantage to Cael.
“The only thing to ask is why you are here Mr. Elias?” Cael’s tone was direct and rather matter of factly.
“159 and zero.” Ryan simply stated, his gaze never leaving Cael’s.
“What about it?” Cael shot back.
“That record, what did it get you? I mean you were in the news, I remember your name and what it meant, the first man to do it and all. What did it get you?” Ryan asked, his voice low, smooth and inviting.
“Look around; I am without a doubt the top college wrestling coach in the world. I coach at a prestigious school, and don’t forget I won a Gold Medal.” Cael’s tone was filled with anger, and passion as he spoke.
Ryan nodded his head as he scanned the office; the pictures were impressive; the handshakes with famous wrestlers and celebrities, the pictures with national wrestling titles, all of it spoke to success. “But at the end of the day you are nothing more than a teacher.” Ryan plainly stated.
“Excuse me?” Cael shot back.
“I mean, those who can do, and those who can’t teach, right?” Ryan didn’t even shift as he spoke, just starred hard at the man, his tone direct but forceful.
“Get out!” Cael shot to his feet.
“No need to get upset, we all have things about our lives that bother us, things we are not proud of.” Ryan shifted a bit and crossed his right leg over his left, turning ever so slightly to his left. “Take for instance my situation, I left the professional wrestling world five years ago, at the top of the industry, only to return to find the industry in shambles.” Ryan casually waved his hand as he spoke.
“What the fuck does that have to do with me?” Cael shot back.
“I’m getting to that, patience my friend.” Ryan casually replied.
“Not friends.” Cael retorted.
“Well, now that’s not very nice. To think, I was under the impression this was going rather well. Alas even someone like me can misread the moment.” Ryan smiled a little, maintaining eye contact with Cael. “Where was I? Oh yes, so what does a professional wrestling organization do with someone like me? They book me with a tremendous amateur wrestler, someone not unlike you back in 2003.”
Cael began to shake his head, the anger building inside of him. “The only thing amateur about my wrestling was that I didn’t get to take on someone like you. Now if you don’t mind I have pressing things to attend to.”
“I am sure teaching takes up quite a bit of time. Let me ask you something though, tell me what you think of Roger Payton Jr.” Ryan smirked a bit as he watched Cael process the name.
“Easy to win all those matches when you weight 270lbs. Not many men compete at that weight. Real fucking work they did there if you ask me. Then the kid skips the Olympics for professional wrestling, what a fucking joke. Sure he is nice as hell, but…” Cael paused as he saw the smile on Ryan’s face. “This is what you wanted isn’t it. You wanted me to tell you how to beat Roger.”
“Oh, I don’t need your help to beat him, I have already done that. No I just wanted to hear you say what everyone else is thinking.” Ryan stood up, gave his white T-shirt a swipe to clean it.
“You came all this way for that?” Cael quizzically asked.
“I came all this way to look into the eyes of a man who once stood tall, who earned everything he had, only to watch his accomplishments destroyed by someone like Roger Payton Jr. and his shit eating grin. I came all this way to see the future that awaits Roger.” Ryan turned and moved for the door.
“Stop!” Cael yelled.
Coming to a stop, Ryan turned on his heel and looked at the man. “Something else you care to add?” Ryan casually asked.
“I want to be there, I want to watch you destroy him, I want to help you bring down the man who is trying to destroy everything that I stand for, who is tarnishing the sport that I love so much. I want to be part of it!” Cael’s words were filled with passion.
A smile crossed Ryan’s face as he reached into the back pocket of his jeans and produced a folded envelope. “I figured you would.” Ryan dropped the envelope on the corner of Cael’s desk and walked out.
Cael retrieved the envelope and opened it to find one round trip ticket for Tampa Bay Florida inside, a VIP visitor pass, and instructions on how to get to the back area of the arena. With a smile he sat down in his chair.
JUNE 4th
The smell of salt fills the air, as Ryan takes a seat at a small sidewalk café in Miami. He watches as women in bathing suits skate by, walk by, and run by. Men ooogle at them, but none of the women pay them any attention, they are contented with the compliment of stares as they go about their business on the day.
Humble yourself son, my dad used to say all the time. People don’t like you telling them how it is; you have to think about their feelings, and how the things you say would make you feel. That has and will always be hard for me, because at the end of the day, I don’t really care about the things that people say about me. The truth is just so much simpler, it is uncaring, un-judging, it is just truth.
Here is the truth Roger, I don’t hate you, no quite the contrary. The fact is I pity you, not because you are terrible, not because you suck, not because I am better than you, though all those things are reality. No I pity you because you never learned how to overcome anything in your life. Everything was handed to you. I went through the top 10 wrestlers of last year in your weight class, and only one of them was within 20 pounds of you, and that man was one donut away from being diabetic.
You dominated a weight division that is rife with mismatches because of a 90 pound weight differential from top to bottom, and because most 21 year olds that are athletic don’t weight in at 276 pounds, or 270 as you say you are now. Reality is you didn’t have to work for it, you could simply overpower your opponents, and there was no real need for skill like there is now for you. That should be more than evident by your start to your professional wrestling career, one win and two losses. One might say the differences in the rules between amateur and professional wrestling are weighing you down. See what I did there?
Yet still I hear the announcers say things like ‘a man not easy to beat’ when they refer to you. Truth is you seem to be much easier to beat than people would like to think. Sure you were 159 and zero in college, but son the reality stick that is hitting you in the face right now is telling you this isn’t college. You should listen to the stick, it speaks the truth, and it’s only going to hit your harder again this week. Sadly, you can’t go back to amateur wrestling anymore, you have joined the pros son, and this week you are going to get the harshest lesson you have ever had.
When we first got into the ring you lost, and sure you could say you didn’t lose, I pinned the other guy in the ring. Fact is you didn’t win, and if you don’t win, then you lose. Get used to it boy, because you are playing a man’s game, with a child’s understanding. This week you are going to get a one on one education in what it means to be great, on what perfection looks like. I will show you how hard you have to work in this business, and when it’s all said and done, I will walk away still not caring about you, still not concerning myself with your feelings, I won’t even pity you anymore, because for the first time in your life you will feel adversity, for the first time in your life you will know what it feels like to let people down.
Ryan takes the cup of teas the waiter brings him, tips it back and sips it down, his gaze returning to the beautiful scenery along the beach in Miami.
JUNE 5th
“Jesus, 50 pounds Ryan.” Tomai said voice filled with genuine concern.
“40.” Ryan replied.
“What?” Tomai asked.
“It is 40 Torey. I am giving up 40 pounds to him. Not that it really matters much if you don’t know what do with the advantage you have.” Ryan closed the news paper and set it down on the dining room table. Tomai had acquired a five bedroom four bathroom house on AirBnB for them to stay in. Ryan quite liked the house, it was large and yet felt homely, and the flow really matched his idea of what a house should be. “Where the fuck is my coffee?” Ryan asked.
“Sorry, fresh right out of the pot, still hot and black like you like it.” Tomai set the cup down in front of Ryan who sipped it and went back to reading the newspaper. “You should really take the weight disadvantage into account Ryan, I mean, it’s significant.”
Ryan again folded the paper and set it down on the table. “You do Torey..?”
“It’s Tomai” (Tom-E). Tomai replied.
“That’s what I said Torey. Now I respect your concerns, but don’t forget I have already been in the ring with this man. He moves like molasses on a cold day, he has no aerial attack, and even more problematic for him, he is green as all hell.” Ryan sipped his coffee and crossed his right leg over the left, sat back in the chair and awaited the response. He didn’t have to wait long.
“Nice one with the molasses joke, you should save that for later. But never the less, his college record speaks for itself.” Tomai replied.
“Terry, do you pay no attention when I talk? I swear it’s like I am talking to a god damn wall sometimes. We have gone through this countless times, you stick to the PR stuff, I will handle the in ring things. Maybe you can set something like that GQ gig up again or something, either way, you suck at making coffee, almost as much as Roger sucks at professional wrestling. Now if you don’t mind, I’d like to get back to reading the news.” Ryan flipped the paper back open.
“You know you can just get an app for that.” Tomai chimed in.
“I swear to GOD Tony!” Ryan folded the paper and set it down on the table. “Are you trying to piss me off?” Ryan asked.
“Fine I get it, I get it.” Tomai through his hands up and stormed off. Pleased with the situation Ryan opened the paper back up and began to read it.
“He means well you know.” The unmistakable voice of Michael floated on the air into the ear canal of Ryan.
Taking a deep breath, Ryan folded his paper and set it on the table. “This appears to be a lost cause at the moment. I see you made it off the boat Michael, not that I was worried or anything. How’s the wife?” Ryan asked before taking a sip of his coffee.
“You are a real asshole Ryan, but then you know that, probably better than anyone else. I’d say you know better than me how she is, but then you really don’t care.” Michael took a seat across the table from Ryan and put his feet up on the table. “Nice place, who did Tomai have to blow to get it?”
“I don’t do that anymore!” Tomai yelled from the other room.
“Fucker has the ears of a god damn dog and the obedience of one too.” Michael let out a laugh.
“Now that we have the pleasantries out of the way, what can I help you with Michael?” Ryan asked, the index finger of his right hand making circles around the rim of his coffee mug.
“It seems that you need something from me, and now I need something from you. So I sit before you humbly asking to make a deal my old friend.” Michael shifts in the chair as he speaks and ends the statement with a giant shit eating grin.
“Well present your proposal.” Ryan quipped back.
“I am about to wager a substantial amount of money on Roger Payton, and as you could imagine, controlling the outcome would be in my best interest. Now seeing as you want out of the contract we signed five years ago, I am willing to offer you the contract, and sign over that it is no longer valid.” Michael starred hard at Ryan trying to read the man.
“Well that is…” Ryan shook his head and let out a deep breath. “Quite the offer, let me think, I’ll pass.” Ryan responded.
“I don’t think you gave that enough thought Ryan.” Michael replied, shit eating grin gone.
“Oh I gave it more thought than it warranted.” Ryan sipped his coffee. “In all these years you still haven’t learned Michael, a man with so much money, so much intelligence and you still can’t see and understand what is truly going on around him.” Ryan flipped the paper over, a recorder left on the table.
“I don’t recall you asking to record me?” Michael smirked back.
“I didn’t have too; this is the property of the FBI.” At that moment the front door of the house swung open and two men in suits entered. “See the contract said that it would become null and void if at any time a crime was committed against either of the parties associated with the contract. You just tried to extort me my friend, or blackmail, either way it doesn’t look too good for your contract.” Ryan sipped his coffee as the two men approached.
“Mr. Archer I am agent Davis and this is Agent Ramirez, you are under arrest.” Ramirez pulled out a pair of handcuffs and Archer motioned for the man to stand up.
Reluctantly Michael stood up and starred at Ryan as Ramirez put him in handcuffs. “Not over, not over by a long shot.”
“You have been watching too many bad B-action movies. But to appease you I will leave you with these parting words. Get him out of my sight.” The last statement Ryan made was with a stern and commanding voice. “Remember don’t drop the soap.” Ryan winked at Michael as the two agents escorted him out of the house.
“I liked the soap joke.” Tomai appeared from the other room. “That was a great plan boss, how did you know?”
“I guess it doesn’t matter how many times I tell people, I am always learning, always watching, always striving to know everything I can. So when I heard Michael was in town, well let’s just say I set up a series of dominos and they all fell into place.” Ryan gave Tomai a wink, picked up his paper, took a sip of his coffee and went back to reading.
JUNE 6th
Roger I hope you are ready, I hope that you do what you need to do, that you put the time in, make the adjustments, because what is coming your way is something you can’t just muscle your way through. The last time we got into the ring you had a taste of what I bring, this week you get the whole damn package, the whole meal, and you are going to be force fed that meal. The only difference, there is no one else for me to pin, no one else to take your loss for you.
At Evolution everyone is going to see what I see, they are going to see that while you were a great amateur, you are not ready for the professional scene son. You should have gone after that gold medal, should have tried to milk your golden egg as long as you could because when I am done, you may have to join fellow wrestling legend Cael Sanderson, teaching kids how to wrestle. At evolution you get exposed boy, and for the first time in your life you get to see what greatness really looks like, not because you are looking in a mirror but because when the match ends it will be standing over you with its hand raised.
This week you are coming face to face with your wrestling God, and you are going to find out just what you are made of. Because like it or not, I am coming for war, and no one has ever been this ready for a war in the ring. You represent all that is wrong in this industry, all that needs to be purged, your entitlement that you don’t ask for, the praise you don’t deserve, everything will be exposed to the world.
So I congratulate you now Roger, I congratulate you on being the bottom rung of the ladder that I will climb to the top of this company. I congratulate you on being the afterthought for my step to greatness in Action Wrestling. You will be that trivia question that no one knows the answer too. “Who did Ryan Elias beat in his first Pay Per View match?”
Don’t cry though Roger, because you won’t be the only rung on my ladder. My ladder will be filled with all the supposed greats of this company, and when I am done, when I stand at the top, I will show the world what the Epitome of Perfection really means. In a way you should feel honored, because you get to feel the pain first, you get it out of the way, like a kid who has to give a presentation in class, no one ever remembers the loser that goes first.
So when you realize the gift you have been given, I will accept your thank you, and give you a warm heartfelt you are welcome. So I will leave you with these parting words Roger, I’ll see you at Evolution, I’ll be the one with his hand raised at the end, and his music playing for the second time. Till then, stay classy, reckoning day is coming.
Ryan stands with both hands shoved into the front pockets of his wrangler jeans. Before him is the famous Nittany Lion Shrine on the Penn State campus. As he stares, the rawness of the statue hides the very being of its meaning. One paw forward the cat is clearly ready to pounce, and yet perched on the rock it holds its position not ready to give up the high ground. It represents the very embodiment of the moment before the strike. The statues creator perfectly captured the moment, the tensed muscles of the hind legs, and the stare of focus.
Hands still in his pockets, Ryan moves off across the area, making his way to the Penn State Athletics center. The area is calm, many of the students long since left for home, or simply not on campus as the classes have ended, and the summer courses not begun yet. Ryan moves unhindered through the grounds, coming to the Athletic Center, and with a simply push on the door finds his way in. All is quiet in the halls, the only noise the strain of the lights turning on as he activates the motion sensors in the halls.
A few minutes of wandering, combined with a stop at the nearest wall map guides Ryan to his destination of choice. A wooden door with a window in it, the name Cael Sanderson etched into the glass. A feint smile graces the man’s face as he pushes the door open and walks in.
“Help you?” A confused man with a freshly shaved head asks as he stands up from behind his oversized desk.
“You certainly can, no need to stand though, please seat.” Ryan says as he glides through the door and takes a seat in a chair at the front of the man’s desk. “I insist, please sit, or I will feel like an asshole being the only one who is seated.” Ryan crosses his left leg over the right and neatly folds his hands on his lap.
“Seated or not you should feel like an asshole either way, you just barged into my office and had the nerve to sit. Who the hell do you think you are?” The man remained standing, a vein in his forehead beginning to bulge.
“Well I don’t think I am anyone, I know I am Ryan Elias, and you are Cael Sanderson, so please have a seat Cael, you don’t mind if I call you that do you? Ah never mind, relax before you have a heart attack or something, you have turned a different shade of Red.” Ryan motioned with his right hand in a soft way, his voice so soft and mellow it helped to guide the man to a calm state.
“So you clearly know who I am, and yet you still walked in here like that. You must have a set on you. Either way I still feel at the disadvantage here.” Cael sat down in his chair, and took a posture of readiness.
“No need to posture, your resume speaks for itself, and as for me, I just told you who I am.” Ryan settled into the chair even more, giving more advantage to Cael.
“The only thing to ask is why you are here Mr. Elias?” Cael’s tone was direct and rather matter of factly.
“159 and zero.” Ryan simply stated, his gaze never leaving Cael’s.
“What about it?” Cael shot back.
“That record, what did it get you? I mean you were in the news, I remember your name and what it meant, the first man to do it and all. What did it get you?” Ryan asked, his voice low, smooth and inviting.
“Look around; I am without a doubt the top college wrestling coach in the world. I coach at a prestigious school, and don’t forget I won a Gold Medal.” Cael’s tone was filled with anger, and passion as he spoke.
Ryan nodded his head as he scanned the office; the pictures were impressive; the handshakes with famous wrestlers and celebrities, the pictures with national wrestling titles, all of it spoke to success. “But at the end of the day you are nothing more than a teacher.” Ryan plainly stated.
“Excuse me?” Cael shot back.
“I mean, those who can do, and those who can’t teach, right?” Ryan didn’t even shift as he spoke, just starred hard at the man, his tone direct but forceful.
“Get out!” Cael shot to his feet.
“No need to get upset, we all have things about our lives that bother us, things we are not proud of.” Ryan shifted a bit and crossed his right leg over his left, turning ever so slightly to his left. “Take for instance my situation, I left the professional wrestling world five years ago, at the top of the industry, only to return to find the industry in shambles.” Ryan casually waved his hand as he spoke.
“What the fuck does that have to do with me?” Cael shot back.
“I’m getting to that, patience my friend.” Ryan casually replied.
“Not friends.” Cael retorted.
“Well, now that’s not very nice. To think, I was under the impression this was going rather well. Alas even someone like me can misread the moment.” Ryan smiled a little, maintaining eye contact with Cael. “Where was I? Oh yes, so what does a professional wrestling organization do with someone like me? They book me with a tremendous amateur wrestler, someone not unlike you back in 2003.”
Cael began to shake his head, the anger building inside of him. “The only thing amateur about my wrestling was that I didn’t get to take on someone like you. Now if you don’t mind I have pressing things to attend to.”
“I am sure teaching takes up quite a bit of time. Let me ask you something though, tell me what you think of Roger Payton Jr.” Ryan smirked a bit as he watched Cael process the name.
“Easy to win all those matches when you weight 270lbs. Not many men compete at that weight. Real fucking work they did there if you ask me. Then the kid skips the Olympics for professional wrestling, what a fucking joke. Sure he is nice as hell, but…” Cael paused as he saw the smile on Ryan’s face. “This is what you wanted isn’t it. You wanted me to tell you how to beat Roger.”
“Oh, I don’t need your help to beat him, I have already done that. No I just wanted to hear you say what everyone else is thinking.” Ryan stood up, gave his white T-shirt a swipe to clean it.
“You came all this way for that?” Cael quizzically asked.
“I came all this way to look into the eyes of a man who once stood tall, who earned everything he had, only to watch his accomplishments destroyed by someone like Roger Payton Jr. and his shit eating grin. I came all this way to see the future that awaits Roger.” Ryan turned and moved for the door.
“Stop!” Cael yelled.
Coming to a stop, Ryan turned on his heel and looked at the man. “Something else you care to add?” Ryan casually asked.
“I want to be there, I want to watch you destroy him, I want to help you bring down the man who is trying to destroy everything that I stand for, who is tarnishing the sport that I love so much. I want to be part of it!” Cael’s words were filled with passion.
A smile crossed Ryan’s face as he reached into the back pocket of his jeans and produced a folded envelope. “I figured you would.” Ryan dropped the envelope on the corner of Cael’s desk and walked out.
Cael retrieved the envelope and opened it to find one round trip ticket for Tampa Bay Florida inside, a VIP visitor pass, and instructions on how to get to the back area of the arena. With a smile he sat down in his chair.
JUNE 4th
The smell of salt fills the air, as Ryan takes a seat at a small sidewalk café in Miami. He watches as women in bathing suits skate by, walk by, and run by. Men ooogle at them, but none of the women pay them any attention, they are contented with the compliment of stares as they go about their business on the day.
Humble yourself son, my dad used to say all the time. People don’t like you telling them how it is; you have to think about their feelings, and how the things you say would make you feel. That has and will always be hard for me, because at the end of the day, I don’t really care about the things that people say about me. The truth is just so much simpler, it is uncaring, un-judging, it is just truth.
Here is the truth Roger, I don’t hate you, no quite the contrary. The fact is I pity you, not because you are terrible, not because you suck, not because I am better than you, though all those things are reality. No I pity you because you never learned how to overcome anything in your life. Everything was handed to you. I went through the top 10 wrestlers of last year in your weight class, and only one of them was within 20 pounds of you, and that man was one donut away from being diabetic.
You dominated a weight division that is rife with mismatches because of a 90 pound weight differential from top to bottom, and because most 21 year olds that are athletic don’t weight in at 276 pounds, or 270 as you say you are now. Reality is you didn’t have to work for it, you could simply overpower your opponents, and there was no real need for skill like there is now for you. That should be more than evident by your start to your professional wrestling career, one win and two losses. One might say the differences in the rules between amateur and professional wrestling are weighing you down. See what I did there?
Yet still I hear the announcers say things like ‘a man not easy to beat’ when they refer to you. Truth is you seem to be much easier to beat than people would like to think. Sure you were 159 and zero in college, but son the reality stick that is hitting you in the face right now is telling you this isn’t college. You should listen to the stick, it speaks the truth, and it’s only going to hit your harder again this week. Sadly, you can’t go back to amateur wrestling anymore, you have joined the pros son, and this week you are going to get the harshest lesson you have ever had.
When we first got into the ring you lost, and sure you could say you didn’t lose, I pinned the other guy in the ring. Fact is you didn’t win, and if you don’t win, then you lose. Get used to it boy, because you are playing a man’s game, with a child’s understanding. This week you are going to get a one on one education in what it means to be great, on what perfection looks like. I will show you how hard you have to work in this business, and when it’s all said and done, I will walk away still not caring about you, still not concerning myself with your feelings, I won’t even pity you anymore, because for the first time in your life you will feel adversity, for the first time in your life you will know what it feels like to let people down.
Ryan takes the cup of teas the waiter brings him, tips it back and sips it down, his gaze returning to the beautiful scenery along the beach in Miami.
JUNE 5th
“Jesus, 50 pounds Ryan.” Tomai said voice filled with genuine concern.
“40.” Ryan replied.
“What?” Tomai asked.
“It is 40 Torey. I am giving up 40 pounds to him. Not that it really matters much if you don’t know what do with the advantage you have.” Ryan closed the news paper and set it down on the dining room table. Tomai had acquired a five bedroom four bathroom house on AirBnB for them to stay in. Ryan quite liked the house, it was large and yet felt homely, and the flow really matched his idea of what a house should be. “Where the fuck is my coffee?” Ryan asked.
“Sorry, fresh right out of the pot, still hot and black like you like it.” Tomai set the cup down in front of Ryan who sipped it and went back to reading the newspaper. “You should really take the weight disadvantage into account Ryan, I mean, it’s significant.”
Ryan again folded the paper and set it down on the table. “You do Torey..?”
“It’s Tomai” (Tom-E). Tomai replied.
“That’s what I said Torey. Now I respect your concerns, but don’t forget I have already been in the ring with this man. He moves like molasses on a cold day, he has no aerial attack, and even more problematic for him, he is green as all hell.” Ryan sipped his coffee and crossed his right leg over the left, sat back in the chair and awaited the response. He didn’t have to wait long.
“Nice one with the molasses joke, you should save that for later. But never the less, his college record speaks for itself.” Tomai replied.
“Terry, do you pay no attention when I talk? I swear it’s like I am talking to a god damn wall sometimes. We have gone through this countless times, you stick to the PR stuff, I will handle the in ring things. Maybe you can set something like that GQ gig up again or something, either way, you suck at making coffee, almost as much as Roger sucks at professional wrestling. Now if you don’t mind, I’d like to get back to reading the news.” Ryan flipped the paper back open.
“You know you can just get an app for that.” Tomai chimed in.
“I swear to GOD Tony!” Ryan folded the paper and set it down on the table. “Are you trying to piss me off?” Ryan asked.
“Fine I get it, I get it.” Tomai through his hands up and stormed off. Pleased with the situation Ryan opened the paper back up and began to read it.
“He means well you know.” The unmistakable voice of Michael floated on the air into the ear canal of Ryan.
Taking a deep breath, Ryan folded his paper and set it on the table. “This appears to be a lost cause at the moment. I see you made it off the boat Michael, not that I was worried or anything. How’s the wife?” Ryan asked before taking a sip of his coffee.
“You are a real asshole Ryan, but then you know that, probably better than anyone else. I’d say you know better than me how she is, but then you really don’t care.” Michael took a seat across the table from Ryan and put his feet up on the table. “Nice place, who did Tomai have to blow to get it?”
“I don’t do that anymore!” Tomai yelled from the other room.
“Fucker has the ears of a god damn dog and the obedience of one too.” Michael let out a laugh.
“Now that we have the pleasantries out of the way, what can I help you with Michael?” Ryan asked, the index finger of his right hand making circles around the rim of his coffee mug.
“It seems that you need something from me, and now I need something from you. So I sit before you humbly asking to make a deal my old friend.” Michael shifts in the chair as he speaks and ends the statement with a giant shit eating grin.
“Well present your proposal.” Ryan quipped back.
“I am about to wager a substantial amount of money on Roger Payton, and as you could imagine, controlling the outcome would be in my best interest. Now seeing as you want out of the contract we signed five years ago, I am willing to offer you the contract, and sign over that it is no longer valid.” Michael starred hard at Ryan trying to read the man.
“Well that is…” Ryan shook his head and let out a deep breath. “Quite the offer, let me think, I’ll pass.” Ryan responded.
“I don’t think you gave that enough thought Ryan.” Michael replied, shit eating grin gone.
“Oh I gave it more thought than it warranted.” Ryan sipped his coffee. “In all these years you still haven’t learned Michael, a man with so much money, so much intelligence and you still can’t see and understand what is truly going on around him.” Ryan flipped the paper over, a recorder left on the table.
“I don’t recall you asking to record me?” Michael smirked back.
“I didn’t have too; this is the property of the FBI.” At that moment the front door of the house swung open and two men in suits entered. “See the contract said that it would become null and void if at any time a crime was committed against either of the parties associated with the contract. You just tried to extort me my friend, or blackmail, either way it doesn’t look too good for your contract.” Ryan sipped his coffee as the two men approached.
“Mr. Archer I am agent Davis and this is Agent Ramirez, you are under arrest.” Ramirez pulled out a pair of handcuffs and Archer motioned for the man to stand up.
Reluctantly Michael stood up and starred at Ryan as Ramirez put him in handcuffs. “Not over, not over by a long shot.”
“You have been watching too many bad B-action movies. But to appease you I will leave you with these parting words. Get him out of my sight.” The last statement Ryan made was with a stern and commanding voice. “Remember don’t drop the soap.” Ryan winked at Michael as the two agents escorted him out of the house.
“I liked the soap joke.” Tomai appeared from the other room. “That was a great plan boss, how did you know?”
“I guess it doesn’t matter how many times I tell people, I am always learning, always watching, always striving to know everything I can. So when I heard Michael was in town, well let’s just say I set up a series of dominos and they all fell into place.” Ryan gave Tomai a wink, picked up his paper, took a sip of his coffee and went back to reading.
JUNE 6th
Roger I hope you are ready, I hope that you do what you need to do, that you put the time in, make the adjustments, because what is coming your way is something you can’t just muscle your way through. The last time we got into the ring you had a taste of what I bring, this week you get the whole damn package, the whole meal, and you are going to be force fed that meal. The only difference, there is no one else for me to pin, no one else to take your loss for you.
At Evolution everyone is going to see what I see, they are going to see that while you were a great amateur, you are not ready for the professional scene son. You should have gone after that gold medal, should have tried to milk your golden egg as long as you could because when I am done, you may have to join fellow wrestling legend Cael Sanderson, teaching kids how to wrestle. At evolution you get exposed boy, and for the first time in your life you get to see what greatness really looks like, not because you are looking in a mirror but because when the match ends it will be standing over you with its hand raised.
This week you are coming face to face with your wrestling God, and you are going to find out just what you are made of. Because like it or not, I am coming for war, and no one has ever been this ready for a war in the ring. You represent all that is wrong in this industry, all that needs to be purged, your entitlement that you don’t ask for, the praise you don’t deserve, everything will be exposed to the world.
So I congratulate you now Roger, I congratulate you on being the bottom rung of the ladder that I will climb to the top of this company. I congratulate you on being the afterthought for my step to greatness in Action Wrestling. You will be that trivia question that no one knows the answer too. “Who did Ryan Elias beat in his first Pay Per View match?”
Don’t cry though Roger, because you won’t be the only rung on my ladder. My ladder will be filled with all the supposed greats of this company, and when I am done, when I stand at the top, I will show the world what the Epitome of Perfection really means. In a way you should feel honored, because you get to feel the pain first, you get it out of the way, like a kid who has to give a presentation in class, no one ever remembers the loser that goes first.
So when you realize the gift you have been given, I will accept your thank you, and give you a warm heartfelt you are welcome. So I will leave you with these parting words Roger, I’ll see you at Evolution, I’ll be the one with his hand raised at the end, and his music playing for the second time. Till then, stay classy, reckoning day is coming.
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