Young Lion & Old Hand (vs. Donovan Rayne, 2,000 words)
Sept 17, 2021 4:55:57 GMT -5
𝐊𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐇𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 likes this
Post by K2 on Sept 17, 2021 4:55:57 GMT -5
Somewhere in Reseda, California a wrestling event has just ended.
The venue is a hotbox and it’s in some backstreet in a VFW hall, but it features some of the best independent wrestling in the world. Major promotions have kept their eyes on it for promising talent for a decade or more, and everyone who gets a good reaction from the rabid and highly opinionated fanbase there can almost guarantee a punched ticket to the big leagues. The Internet community adores the shows the promotion puts on and names that stand out make the rounds on all manner of forums and highlight reels.
It’s been a good night for “Thunderbolt” Robbie Benedict. He’s been in the country about six months touring the southwest and parts of the northwest, with the occasional foray into Canada and the mid-portion of the United States, and he’s really been getting his name out there with stellar performances against the best local wrestlers. This week he’s been in competition for three straight nights in a high profile tournament and he even made it to the finals. Three rounds over two nights to come up short in a disappointing loss to the reigning world champion, but he gave it his all and the result wasn’t what he was hoping for. So after a cooldown and a fitful night’s sleep…
His phone rings. He initially doesn’t recognize the noise because it’s not his alarm. And it’s six in the morning, he had it set for eight. But it rings again. And again. He rolls over and blindly paws at it to bring it up.
CALL FROM: HECTOR
Hector? He hasn’t talked to him in half a year since they tagged a few times in the UK. He slides the little button up and sits up in his bed.
Benedict: Hello?
And roughly nine thousand miles away another pro wrestler is sitting on his recliner watching soccer on TV. It’s about two in the afternoon.
Crowley: Good afternoon, my son. How fares your stint across the pond?
Benedict: It’s six in the morning here, Hector. Time zones are a thing.
There’s a brief pause on the other end as Hector attempts to do the math in his head. Huh, turns out that he’s right.
Crowley: And you call yourself a professional? You should have been up two hours and gotten a run in already. Heard it on good authority that you did a bang-up job this very weekend against that big bloke from Germany. Shame you don’t have the strap, but I have a nice little consolation prize for you. I have been in contact with certain individuals who do signings for Action Wrestling. I assume you know who they are.
Benedict wipes the sleep from his eyes and peers out the window after he gets to his feet, stretching his back. Ugh, he can’t get it to pop, it’s gonna be stiff all day. He recalls watching a few of their shows a few months ago, their production values are high but their flashy style isn’t really his bag.
Benedict: Yeah, I think so. World champ uses that nice Piledriver, I think. Why, did they give you a call?
Hector’s tone of voice is just as jovial as ever. It doesn’t ever seem to matter what the situation is, Hector Crowley always seems to have a joke or a glib comment handy to defuse things or infuriate someone who’s already angry. Always the pot-stirrer.
Crowley: Of course! I’m surprised they didn’t earlier. I’ve been ready for the spotlight for five years now. Big fish in a small pond across the pond, innit? But see, there’s been a problem and that’s why I’m calling you of all people.
Hector leans back and Robert is treated to the light squeal of the footrest of his recliner deploying, and a fizzy beverage being opened. Of course he’s going to really take his time with this and draw it out, really relish the worm he has on his hook. Proverbially speaking.
Crowley: See, they were pretty specific in what they wanted. They say their tag division is lacking, and I agree with them. Bloody anemic is what it is. But right now I’m kind of between tag partners since I’ve been making a go at the heavyweight title here. And between you and me and this can of lager I don’t think anyone else in this outfit can hang in a high-profile environment. So I figure I’ll give you a call first, pass it by you, see how you feel about wrestling in front of ten thousand rather than a hundred. And hey, you’ll make money instead of a hotdog and a handshake. It’ll keep you from going back to Japan for a while though, but unless you start going through head drop withdrawal I think you’ll live. What do you say, squire?
A sudden, interesting development after a disappointing evening. It’s a lot to take in but Robbie knows that things like these often are. They come up quick, they come up without warning and they hit like bolts of lightning. That’s something that speaks to him, and it urges him forward to respond.
Benedict: Yeah, sure. Call them back and tell them I’m in if they’re looking to sign a tag team. You weren’t the worst partner I ever had anyway.
Hector chortles and punches the arm of his couch, kicking his feet.
Crowley: Aha! I knew I made the right call right out of the gate, friendo. You and me are gonna set the world on fire, and I’ve got all kinds of ideas to make us stand out from the crowd. I’ll send you some stuff I was working on in PhotoShop over the phone and you tell me what you think of it. It’s gonna a bleedin’ license to print money. They’re gonna run out of fucking t-shirts when we debut, my son! After we--
Benedict: Okay, okay, I get it. Just send it over and I’m gonna get some breakfast, I think I dislocated a rib or something last night. I’ll get back to you once you get the actual figures from the Action Wrestling people.
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
A few days pass before anything official is signed over, and it’s even longer before everything is finalized. Action Wrestling finalizes the move of Hector to the United States and helps him with his visa, and Robert uproots his own tenuous roots and gets back on the road to get to the home offices of the promotion interested in his talents. It’s a big thing for the both of them and they decide to meet up after the contracts are done in a bar attached to a hotel where they both have a room. Robert walks in with a blazer and tie, Crowley seated at the bar itself enjoying a bourbon neat. Hector stands and gives his new tag partner a handshake before they take seats next to each other.
Benedict: I’ll have whatever he’s having, looks good--Hector Crowley, it’s been what, year and a half? Good to see you. The beard came in nice, huh? I bet you’re gonna keep waxing the mustache, I bet that’ll get over with the crowds.
Hector makes a show of tweedling the mustache in question with a wry grin before he has a sip of his drink.
Crowley: I’ve got a lot more than that in mind, squire. A whole branding campaign is what I’m going for, especially if we get a piece of the merch. I know they probably have whole departments for this kind of thing but I think they’ll appreciate some real go-getters. So the idea is gonna be that--Well, I sent you the logo and such. I’ve been coming up with my own ring gear for ages now and I figure I should put my nerd skills to work. So. I say we dress to the nines, innit? We dress real slick, real sharp. We wear our shirts and blazers down and we take them off for that lady-pop, right? But we wrestle in our slacks. I mean, we don’t wrestle in our dress shoes because we’d be slip-sliding everywhere. Boots, kneepads under the slack, the whole nine. Beating ass and looking good. Proper gents.
Benedict: I was looking at their site and… While I like the name “Dangerous Gentlemen” I think they have a cruiserweight tag team--
Crowley: Okay listen, they go by “Gents,” and “Gentlemen” is different. They’re just two guys in capes, innit? We’re PROPER Gentlemen with a capital G. And we’re gonna go way farther once we get going. That said, I know you like “Robbie” because it makes you sound young and fiery. But it doesn’t have the same heft as “Robert.” You sound like a man and not a boy when you’re “Robert.” Robert does his taxes, Robert goes to the dentist. You gotta be Robert.
A long staring pause. It’s a weird demand but the younger between them can see the reason for it. But it seems like a weirdly specific thing to agree to. But he finally relents and shrugs, just in time for his phone to jingle when he receives a message. It’s the AW booker with his match for the week. Hm.
Benedict: So our debut match isn’t a tag match. It’s between me and some guy named Donovan Rayne. Don’t think I’ve seen tapes of him.
A long pause as the darker-haired man finishes his drink, he considering the implications. Hm. Well they’re untested and cards are often subject to change. This’ll work anyway. Oh wait.
Crowley: Donovan Rayne? The entrance guy?
A low furrow of brows and Robert looks up from his phone after getting some quick stats. They’re pretty much even in height and weight, that’s good. But, entrance?
Benedict: What’s an entrance got to do with this? We were just talking about our entrance.
Crowley: No no, this guy’s got the mother of all entrances. Look it up.
Sure enough when a cursory YouTube search is made regarding Donovan Rayne, the very first hit is a video entitled “DONOVAN RAYNE EPIC NICKELBACK ENTRANCE” in all caps. He hits the button and sets the phone sideways on the counter, propped against the empty glass. The music starts and the crowd really gets to booing.
Benedict: Oh, I remember this song. This was… I dunno, Spider-Man 2? The ones with Maguire. Man, there’s been a lot of Spider-Men.
The tiny little image of the male model with the chiseled good looks and six-pack abs makes his way down the ramp with his sister in tow. They seem very concerned with a book that also has his name on it, and it becomes apparent soon enough that this isn’t some run of the mill entrance.
Crowley: Fucking hell, this video’s three minutes long. Is his entrance an entire Nickelback song?
Benedict: That looks like it’s the case, yeah.
Crowley: I can’t even be mad, that’s amazing. He looks like a prick though.
The man who he’s going to face over the weekend props his chin on his palm and watches him. Mannerisms, height, weight, the way he moves. All things that can be used to eke out a win. He’s going to have to go over all the tape he can find to get a feel for what to watch out for, but this is a good intro. For obvious reasons.
Benedict: Truthfully this is probably Nickelback’s best song. Maybe a tie with that one about fucking in a car. I forget the name.
The entrance just keeps on going, finally ending with him ready for battle.
Crowley: Right. Well, I’ll leave you to that, I gotta get a workout in before the next meeting. Best of luck, boyo, I’ll be in your corner.
The two of them part ways to prepare with their own methods. The Young Lion and the old hand finally given their big break, with nothing to lose and everything to gain.
The venue is a hotbox and it’s in some backstreet in a VFW hall, but it features some of the best independent wrestling in the world. Major promotions have kept their eyes on it for promising talent for a decade or more, and everyone who gets a good reaction from the rabid and highly opinionated fanbase there can almost guarantee a punched ticket to the big leagues. The Internet community adores the shows the promotion puts on and names that stand out make the rounds on all manner of forums and highlight reels.
It’s been a good night for “Thunderbolt” Robbie Benedict. He’s been in the country about six months touring the southwest and parts of the northwest, with the occasional foray into Canada and the mid-portion of the United States, and he’s really been getting his name out there with stellar performances against the best local wrestlers. This week he’s been in competition for three straight nights in a high profile tournament and he even made it to the finals. Three rounds over two nights to come up short in a disappointing loss to the reigning world champion, but he gave it his all and the result wasn’t what he was hoping for. So after a cooldown and a fitful night’s sleep…
His phone rings. He initially doesn’t recognize the noise because it’s not his alarm. And it’s six in the morning, he had it set for eight. But it rings again. And again. He rolls over and blindly paws at it to bring it up.
CALL FROM: HECTOR
Hector? He hasn’t talked to him in half a year since they tagged a few times in the UK. He slides the little button up and sits up in his bed.
Benedict: Hello?
And roughly nine thousand miles away another pro wrestler is sitting on his recliner watching soccer on TV. It’s about two in the afternoon.
Crowley: Good afternoon, my son. How fares your stint across the pond?
Benedict: It’s six in the morning here, Hector. Time zones are a thing.
There’s a brief pause on the other end as Hector attempts to do the math in his head. Huh, turns out that he’s right.
Crowley: And you call yourself a professional? You should have been up two hours and gotten a run in already. Heard it on good authority that you did a bang-up job this very weekend against that big bloke from Germany. Shame you don’t have the strap, but I have a nice little consolation prize for you. I have been in contact with certain individuals who do signings for Action Wrestling. I assume you know who they are.
Benedict wipes the sleep from his eyes and peers out the window after he gets to his feet, stretching his back. Ugh, he can’t get it to pop, it’s gonna be stiff all day. He recalls watching a few of their shows a few months ago, their production values are high but their flashy style isn’t really his bag.
Benedict: Yeah, I think so. World champ uses that nice Piledriver, I think. Why, did they give you a call?
Hector’s tone of voice is just as jovial as ever. It doesn’t ever seem to matter what the situation is, Hector Crowley always seems to have a joke or a glib comment handy to defuse things or infuriate someone who’s already angry. Always the pot-stirrer.
Crowley: Of course! I’m surprised they didn’t earlier. I’ve been ready for the spotlight for five years now. Big fish in a small pond across the pond, innit? But see, there’s been a problem and that’s why I’m calling you of all people.
Hector leans back and Robert is treated to the light squeal of the footrest of his recliner deploying, and a fizzy beverage being opened. Of course he’s going to really take his time with this and draw it out, really relish the worm he has on his hook. Proverbially speaking.
Crowley: See, they were pretty specific in what they wanted. They say their tag division is lacking, and I agree with them. Bloody anemic is what it is. But right now I’m kind of between tag partners since I’ve been making a go at the heavyweight title here. And between you and me and this can of lager I don’t think anyone else in this outfit can hang in a high-profile environment. So I figure I’ll give you a call first, pass it by you, see how you feel about wrestling in front of ten thousand rather than a hundred. And hey, you’ll make money instead of a hotdog and a handshake. It’ll keep you from going back to Japan for a while though, but unless you start going through head drop withdrawal I think you’ll live. What do you say, squire?
A sudden, interesting development after a disappointing evening. It’s a lot to take in but Robbie knows that things like these often are. They come up quick, they come up without warning and they hit like bolts of lightning. That’s something that speaks to him, and it urges him forward to respond.
Benedict: Yeah, sure. Call them back and tell them I’m in if they’re looking to sign a tag team. You weren’t the worst partner I ever had anyway.
Hector chortles and punches the arm of his couch, kicking his feet.
Crowley: Aha! I knew I made the right call right out of the gate, friendo. You and me are gonna set the world on fire, and I’ve got all kinds of ideas to make us stand out from the crowd. I’ll send you some stuff I was working on in PhotoShop over the phone and you tell me what you think of it. It’s gonna a bleedin’ license to print money. They’re gonna run out of fucking t-shirts when we debut, my son! After we--
Benedict: Okay, okay, I get it. Just send it over and I’m gonna get some breakfast, I think I dislocated a rib or something last night. I’ll get back to you once you get the actual figures from the Action Wrestling people.
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
A few days pass before anything official is signed over, and it’s even longer before everything is finalized. Action Wrestling finalizes the move of Hector to the United States and helps him with his visa, and Robert uproots his own tenuous roots and gets back on the road to get to the home offices of the promotion interested in his talents. It’s a big thing for the both of them and they decide to meet up after the contracts are done in a bar attached to a hotel where they both have a room. Robert walks in with a blazer and tie, Crowley seated at the bar itself enjoying a bourbon neat. Hector stands and gives his new tag partner a handshake before they take seats next to each other.
Benedict: I’ll have whatever he’s having, looks good--Hector Crowley, it’s been what, year and a half? Good to see you. The beard came in nice, huh? I bet you’re gonna keep waxing the mustache, I bet that’ll get over with the crowds.
Hector makes a show of tweedling the mustache in question with a wry grin before he has a sip of his drink.
Crowley: I’ve got a lot more than that in mind, squire. A whole branding campaign is what I’m going for, especially if we get a piece of the merch. I know they probably have whole departments for this kind of thing but I think they’ll appreciate some real go-getters. So the idea is gonna be that--Well, I sent you the logo and such. I’ve been coming up with my own ring gear for ages now and I figure I should put my nerd skills to work. So. I say we dress to the nines, innit? We dress real slick, real sharp. We wear our shirts and blazers down and we take them off for that lady-pop, right? But we wrestle in our slacks. I mean, we don’t wrestle in our dress shoes because we’d be slip-sliding everywhere. Boots, kneepads under the slack, the whole nine. Beating ass and looking good. Proper gents.
Benedict: I was looking at their site and… While I like the name “Dangerous Gentlemen” I think they have a cruiserweight tag team--
Crowley: Okay listen, they go by “Gents,” and “Gentlemen” is different. They’re just two guys in capes, innit? We’re PROPER Gentlemen with a capital G. And we’re gonna go way farther once we get going. That said, I know you like “Robbie” because it makes you sound young and fiery. But it doesn’t have the same heft as “Robert.” You sound like a man and not a boy when you’re “Robert.” Robert does his taxes, Robert goes to the dentist. You gotta be Robert.
A long staring pause. It’s a weird demand but the younger between them can see the reason for it. But it seems like a weirdly specific thing to agree to. But he finally relents and shrugs, just in time for his phone to jingle when he receives a message. It’s the AW booker with his match for the week. Hm.
Benedict: So our debut match isn’t a tag match. It’s between me and some guy named Donovan Rayne. Don’t think I’ve seen tapes of him.
A long pause as the darker-haired man finishes his drink, he considering the implications. Hm. Well they’re untested and cards are often subject to change. This’ll work anyway. Oh wait.
Crowley: Donovan Rayne? The entrance guy?
A low furrow of brows and Robert looks up from his phone after getting some quick stats. They’re pretty much even in height and weight, that’s good. But, entrance?
Benedict: What’s an entrance got to do with this? We were just talking about our entrance.
Crowley: No no, this guy’s got the mother of all entrances. Look it up.
Sure enough when a cursory YouTube search is made regarding Donovan Rayne, the very first hit is a video entitled “DONOVAN RAYNE EPIC NICKELBACK ENTRANCE” in all caps. He hits the button and sets the phone sideways on the counter, propped against the empty glass. The music starts and the crowd really gets to booing.
Benedict: Oh, I remember this song. This was… I dunno, Spider-Man 2? The ones with Maguire. Man, there’s been a lot of Spider-Men.
The tiny little image of the male model with the chiseled good looks and six-pack abs makes his way down the ramp with his sister in tow. They seem very concerned with a book that also has his name on it, and it becomes apparent soon enough that this isn’t some run of the mill entrance.
Crowley: Fucking hell, this video’s three minutes long. Is his entrance an entire Nickelback song?
Benedict: That looks like it’s the case, yeah.
Crowley: I can’t even be mad, that’s amazing. He looks like a prick though.
The man who he’s going to face over the weekend props his chin on his palm and watches him. Mannerisms, height, weight, the way he moves. All things that can be used to eke out a win. He’s going to have to go over all the tape he can find to get a feel for what to watch out for, but this is a good intro. For obvious reasons.
Benedict: Truthfully this is probably Nickelback’s best song. Maybe a tie with that one about fucking in a car. I forget the name.
The entrance just keeps on going, finally ending with him ready for battle.
Crowley: Right. Well, I’ll leave you to that, I gotta get a workout in before the next meeting. Best of luck, boyo, I’ll be in your corner.
The two of them part ways to prepare with their own methods. The Young Lion and the old hand finally given their big break, with nothing to lose and everything to gain.