Post by Kyle Shane on May 27, 2024 15:23:34 GMT -5
As Hiro slid behind the wheel of the Jag, loosening his collar, he glanced over at Kyle, eyebrows raised, ready to go?
Kyle sat, chin propped against heel of his hand propped elbow against the windowsill of the car, lost in thought, his mind working against everything Daniel Fehl had refuted against him as they'd snuck away for one of Daniel's customary fire-escape cigarette breaks.
"Hellllooo, earth to Kyleeee," Hiro cajoled. Kyle had to bite back irritation.
In a move few would ever have seen coming (well, aside from Chad Jacoby, but,) the former tag partners had, at the height of the pandemic, begun a new venture in cohabitating... closer than they ever had in IEW.
It wasn't without occasional personality clashes.
For Hiro, inhibitions of masculinity sometimes came out as grating annoyance, but, y'know, relationships take work.
"Babe? You're starting to worry me," Hiro said, "It's a looong drive through fullstop traffic back to the airport, sooo... spill."
"Danny just gave me somethin' to think about that's all."
"Oh, your other tag partner," Hiro said, faux-dramatically, teasing, "That I should ever live up in your eyes to the joys of tandem with a scraggly punk-rock boy with a Rancid look. How did you like the Smash Bros, btw?"
"Hiro..."
"What, I'm just saying, it was the nadir of your tenure in WGWF, I'm glad you got away from -"
"Danny said that I need to consider getting back in the ring again."
"Oh."
Hiro's voice immediately became stiff, inflexible; He didn't approve. Hiro Sasuke, The Overlord, had been an IEW Intercontinental Champ at one point, before, supposed to be THE breakout of the team. That he ended up becoming the lesser-known one was, well...
"Nothing, just forget I brought it up..." Kyle sighed.
"Bullshit. That's what I've been coming to this entire time, you don't let anyone define when you're done except you."
Kyle's eyes flitted back to Hiro. "I'm tired of living under a rock, working a go-nowhere job in the billing department of one of your companies, Hiro. I had a life, it was taken away from me. My name, was taken away from me."
Hiro's voice was rising as if Kyle was the one of of pocket, "Because of that damn documentary, Kyle! Do you remember, the hit-piece that came out two months ago when fucking Vice decided to make you the first episode of that new season?"
He grimaced, hearing the C**** J****** narration bleeding through his ears, then bitterly snapped back, "I remember it, very well, thank you."
"Oh, so you know that people on Tiktok who were young when 2014 happened are just now finding out that Kyle Shane supplied a sixteen-year-old with rohypnol, orrr that she's your 'soulmate', or - "
"Leave. Array. Out of this," he snapped. "The documentary has nothing to do with this, Hiro, I just want..." He found himself at a loss for words again, fumbling, lost.
"You have to live life, Kyle."
"[...]Search for the ending you want, then you don't stop until you've brought it into fruition."
"This's just for your ego," Hiro was saying, "You admitted to me yourself you never wanted to get entrenched in wrestling, neither of us did. For Godsake, Kyle we were eighteen-years-old when we started... just filming dipshit Youtube videos that got us noticed. Neither of us WANTED to get stuck in wrestling, but you, just loved winning belts."
"I loved it... because it filled something in me, papered over some long-gestating cracks. Because I was alive."
"I don't think we have anything to discuss further, Hiro. Let me out of the car, please."
Hiro sputtered, and got angry, but that Thanksgiving did end with Kyle walking out onto the side of the road leaving Los Angeles on foot, as the Il Nino winter began pelting him with rain.
Kyle Shane, reemerging into the wrestling world after nearly four years away, after the most highly-publicized spat and mental breakdown, shooting my frustrations beyond the fourth wall and burning every bridge possible.
I'd earned a reputation for my toxicity. When I stepped away, it was under such a bleak cloud that I can tell, there are more than a few who were glad to see the back of me.
My legacy for being such a pain-in-the-ass proceeds me even further; In some circles within X, people continued to dredge my name up, insulting me even going back into a year or two ago, that was the type of poison I left, I don't see a need to go into it again.
More than even the abortive attempt at Kyle Shane Remastered, in 2019, is my reemergence from a fugue after so long away... stepping back into this game after so long away;
This is a brand-new entity. I spent my season in hell, agonizing, stewing in the negativity, waiting out the most prime years of my career on the sidelines, sitting aside to watch others living out their potential.
If it was all about satiating my admittedly-prodigious ego, I'd fall into bitterness about my time away. About how the world moved on.
A formerly-avowed belt mark (the avatar of Achievements Unlocked), I'd be salty about the ways my name was invoked on Twitter in my absence, how people swaggered into rooms, into companies, that I helped build, proclaiming they were there to overshadow everything I'd done.
But for the first time, this isn't about that for me. It took a hard conversation for me to come to grips with the fact that I owe it to wrestling now to make good.
I didn't decide to come to Action Wrestling, as a "surprise! Gotcha!" entry in Havoc solely to pad my record with an accolade; Ever since Daniel Fehl and I had our conversation in the lead-up to Turmoil, I've not only been preparing myself to step back in the stage, I've been getting my mind right.
This is Kyle Shane, coming to Action Wrestling fully intent on changing his entire game.
It was months later, when Hiro came down to find him in the gym, running ropes like a madman. Some old, painful twinge in his surgically-repaired back ate at him, but he needed practice to work his flabby muscles, get back a core of him, get back the body that had atrophied.
Hiro came around to him, his expression softening somewhat. He could see the demons hiding behind Kyle's face, he could read every tweet that Kyle was obsessing over. Kyle Shane is a goddamn sadboi who can never hold on to anything for too long...
A manchild, a pedantic bitch who's not as good as he thinks he is...
Hiro starts to say something, but he can't. Instead, he walks out of the gym, and Kyle doesn't notice at first, until he finally notices the absence of Hiro.
But he has to do this for him.
That papered-over void is talking to him, now, growling deep from within the pit of his chest. For I am your soul, Kyle, you can't deny what you want, you can't push it away with a menial job... you can't run from it with drink or drugs or afternoons at the pool with your mantoy. You WANT to be the Best, the Best in the World... you want everyone to know it.
Maybe, he thinks, as he starts running the ropes again.
There's... something freeing in that, Kyle...
In wanting something for so long, only to find out it wasn't everything you wished it could be. In letting go of it... starting anew.
Thanks, Danny.
I'm not going to swagger down to that ring after all of this time away, expecting anything to be handed to me, simply off name recognition.
I'm here to ignite this ring the way only I can, to step into a dull and fairly limited Havoc, and show a roster what it's been lacking for some time, something that I, myself, was missing.
I'm no longer a name redacted. I'm no longer a hashtag, canceled, a locker room cancer who's feeding an empty, ceaseless quest for validation.
What I was missing in 2019, 2020, was something that I had to be reminded of as Daniel told his beautifully moving story about transformative change and endings.
I didn't intend to be a lifer in wrestling like Downfall, and that's the last I'll need to mention him because my work speaks for itself.
I'm a punk kid from the trashy neighborhoods of Roxbury that fell into wrestling backwards because I needed a release, escapism, and from there, I fought my way to eight World championships, everywhere I've gone.
I've stepped into companies sight-unseen and won championships within my first month every single time.
I've wrestled at an Elite level for so long that my form became the template.
Every effort I've put forth, ultimately, has been for the love of the game, that's the common thread.
Looking around at this jaded, stunted group of miscreants populating this field at Havoc, I see a definite lack of that kind of passion, that kind of fire.
I don't need to fulfill Havoc bingo by listing them all by name, insulting Odin, Jessie Lee, Addy and everyone else who's a "dark horse" with such unimaginative bridges that you may as well be listing them 1-10. That strategy lead to some of the most yawn-inducing entries in a field that couldn't be more obviously hoping for something different.
Both Jonny Cedrone and Johnny Eden had the same brilliant idea in their heads to sit down with their respective partners hashing out every entry they see as a threat, robotically spoonfed dialogue from women who we've never been given enough of a reason to believe are anything more than silicone sex dolls.
Is it any wonder over half of the entries spend the most real estate naming Tatiana, Odin, and Addy? Because at least when you look at what Addy or Jolee are saying, they believe they'll win. Men like Jody Madrox, start every paragraph about why they aren't going to try because "they'd never accept him as champion".
That's a common theme in AW, almost a fatalistic avoidance of giving your best effort.
It baffles me, more than anything it highlights the fact that these fans are crying out for someone who does give a shit about what they do enough to never turn in lackluster effort, or bitterly snark that they're "Always an angel, never a God" and that wrestling bookers will assign hits on them and place obstacles in their way to make sure they don't become champion.
The way that someone like Muru won a suspect World Title shot through a battle royale, and then went on to do nothing but whine every single week he was booked that he didn't belong in the ring.
This is the attitude I challenge weekly because historically I've proven to be a rising tide.
Look at everywhere I go, and my peers will testify to how hard they had to raise their game to match me.
Men like Gerard Angelo have made their entire second-half of a career just trying to channel my energy.
In the vein of people who expected everything to be handed to them, we'd be remiss if we didn't glance at number thirty himself, the winner of the easiest mode tournament since The Sitcom won two matches to clench Glory 2023.
Fact is I respect Doc Holiday for understanding that getting to the main event of AW is a grind, however, he doesn't possess the temerity and originality to truly separate himself, replete with his ever-ready cavalcade of stories about how his coach inspired him to gut it out and push through the pain to win the NCAA title.
Holiday is a man who, regardless of what division he lands in, finds himself stuck in a rut facing the same opponent and going nowhere. And why?
Downfall clocked it half a year ago... cut through the surface and what do you have? A glut of attempts to make cerebral references as he aimlessly spins his wheels and never progresses, never changes his character or gives us more to go on than the fact that he's arrogant, full of himself, and technically gifted; A biting reminder to the Cedrones and Holidays of the world, the ship sailed on that impressing anyone in 2005.
If this was Holiday's match to win, even at number thirty, then he'd be looked at as the favorite no matter what. Instead, everyone knows this is just another ball he's going to whiff at, and then what? He can't very well go back to the US title, and another round with Cedrone.
That's been the problem with half of the AW roster. They lock themselves into these holding patterns. Nobody wants to look inward and assess where they can improve their act, but damn sure everyone wants to blame the booker on socials when they feel they're getting screwed.
It's why I share the disdain for Tatiana's Twitter shit, it's counter-productive. AW has had enough of hearing about what it does wrong baiting people who staunchly refuse to watch our product but still sneer about "PissGate" eight months later to the three people who like those posts.
Tatiana's been given rope for three consecutive years to push this agenda that AW is doing everything it can to hold her down.
-Nonsensically, mind you, because if AW wanted to cut her loose, they'd just walk away from the table rather than play the "contract negotiations" game that gets bandied about every time Tatiana trawls for attention on X. Her conspiracy-addled mind is formed like concrete around this nucleus, and again, when it goes nowhere, who does she point the finger at?
That's why she repetitively continues to tell the story about how embittered she was that her World Title reign lasted so briefly, only to lose it to a man who was out the door, rather than look at their respective promos and suss out exactly how she defeated herself.
I know, I'm feeding trolls and preaching to a choir with this one, but this is a knockout blow that's been awaiting since she received more World title opportunities this year than Jaice Wilds... she deserved them even less than Jaice did.
But not to worry, one and all. In the end, we're all getting what we're served with this one.
He glances at the voicemail from Hiro, not knowing now how long it's been since he's come back to bed. ...(months?)
"Kyle, listen..."
"I wasn't on board at first. I was done wrestling when I was twenty years old, dude. You left me behind to go off on your own, to go solo in XWF. That was a sign that you didn't need me. And then... you and I reconnected, and it was good for a while, but baby... there's something in you that has unfinished business, and I think this is it. And I don't think that you don't need me, or that you're leaving me behind, but I'm not going to the ring with you, so..."
"So here we are, Kyle. I'm giving you my blessing."
"Be who you're meant to be."
"Just come home, will you?" There was an 'I need you' in Hiro's voice that touched him. He solemnly nodded, and then, his shocked hand moved up to his face. When had he shaved?
He had one more last thought, and his thumb swiped open his phone, paging to contacts. He started, as he always had, to call Array.
"This number has been blocked as a request by the user," said a monotone voice, cutting off all hopes in Kyle's heart. He bit it back, and then nodded. Fresh start.
Let's do this, he told himself, climbing back in the ring to practice again.
So, the question remains, why return now?
The honest answer is that both AW and I, are damaged goods.
Both this company and I, have weathered a long season of nothing but black eyes and spit teeth. I for one am tired of wallowing in it, taking part in it, and letting it be my narrative.
It's because I've decided to step my game up and do the work that I can see what AW needs, and has been crying out for.
Because frankly, every single person in the past three years who has won Havoc has ended up ghosting this company.
Given the long-enough timeline, eventually, it always does turn toxic, and your supposed company men and women will turn on you and burn their bridges.
Havoc winners are the highest percentage of this because the last few years, they haven't gone on to claim the World Title at Evolution, and in the end, that's the most routine reason for joining the ranks of haters.
I'm done with that.
It isn't about the win, or the title, it's about paying back with love, to a company that needs it at its most.
It's here that I remind you all of who I am and always have been, reclaiming a name that's been tainted when it's also synonymous with the exact set of skills, I am Kyle Shane. Winner of the Icemann Invitational Tournament, winner of the 2012 Tag Turmoil, winner of the 2014 West Coast Rumble which is particularly relevant...
World Champion, multiple times, so get ready to willfully stick your heads in the sand trying to downplay that record...
Catalyst, that forces people to step their game up to my level or get rolled...
Game Changer...
I've been the devil, and it truly is up to anyone who stands across the ring from me which side they want to take in because I can be that as well;
Primarily what matters most is one simple, salient fact that it took me too long to come to face again, that I am always the God of fucking Game.
I'm welcoming myself, calling myself finally home.