Post by Raging Frank Lowe on Feb 14, 2021 23:21:34 GMT -5
Bumps and bruises were a way of life for any wrestler but Matthias Mintzel couldn’t help but feel like he got more than his fair share. A week ago, he spent a night in a hospital bed. He’d lost his Hardcore Title, he’d broken a rib and his pride had taken just as much of a beating.
Honestly, he’d lay on that bed a week ago in agony, wondering what came next. On the face of it, Matthias wasn’t one for self doubt. Spencer Adams had described Matthias’ approach as “See enemy, hurt enemy” and Matthias had taken that as a badge of honour as much as anything. But every match takes its toll physically and every loss takes something out of you mentally as well. Winning the Hardcore title was a Herculean effort in the first place, his plans to hold it were thorough, intense… a lengthy and dominant reign was what he envisioned and was prepared for… but he lost. His body hurt. He hurt.
He heard that very same night about his Battle Bowl draw. Him and a previous enemy, Frank Lowe, against two hot shot newcomers in round one. Der Metzger and Twiztid Insane Haunted Matthias’ dreams for a week but not for the same reason as many feared them. Matthias meant it when he said he didn’t scare easily, he’d come across plenty of mental patients from Kiel before moving to the states so Der Metzger wasn’t a worry, and he wasn’t scared of clowns and that seemed to be all Twiztid Insane brought to the table but it was what they’d represented. New, with a buzz that Matthias was afraid he was losing, they had eyes on them that maybe, not that long ago, were on Matthias.
Losing wasn’t an option, and Matthias didn’t lose.
So now, a week on from that night in hospital Matthias lies back on his hotel bed. Not in much less pain than he had been that fateful night, his body was just about still holding up. The aches and pains were a constant these days, but tonight was a night where his mind let him settle, for once.
There was more to come. Could he really get NATE to fluke another win next week? What would James and Alice do to him if he couldn’t? Carter Shaw and Kyle Kemp weren’t flashes in the pan, they’d pose a problem, what state would he be in? He and Frank Lowe had just about functioned together but that felt like it could collapse at any moment, would that unholy alliance last another match?
As a rare treat, though, these questions could wait until tomorrow.
Matthias Mintzel looks at his phone. He wasn’t sure why, but he instinctively felt he needed to speak to Frank again, but he couldn’t go down to Frank’s local again, that’d seem desperate.
“You’re acting like he’s your boyfriend and you’re waiting for him to call.”
Matthias growls.
NATE had been asleep for 13 hours after spending 3 days awake and was unlikely to wake up any time soon, so Matthias and NATE’s adopted Mom Kate Taw (better known as Traw Ma) had taken the opportunity to go on a rare date. They were remembering why they did this so rarely, neither was interested in the other due to their personality and conversational skills. For Matthias, it was some fun whilst it lasted, for Kate she’d somehow managed to trick someone into giving NATE some attention so she at least had a bit of time to herself, for the first time in years. Mutually convenient, the phrase was.
“Don’t growl at me.”
“He’s a fucking idiot. Nothing at all after the match, you’d think he’d at least have thanked me for getting him through.”
“What are you craving that guy’s approval for? You beat him twice.”
“I’m not, he’s a fucking loser. Fuck that guy.”
“Yeah you don’t sound bothered.”
Kate rolls her eyes and pours herself another glass of wine. Not the best date she’d ever had, but anything was better than listening to NATE singing that song over and over again.
“You’re the strong part of this team. You beat Frank Lowe twice, you got the pin on Monday night, just show up and do your thing, don’t let him bother you. Honestly, I think you could’ve got a worse partner…”
“You’d think he’d take it seriously though, huh? Like, we can hate each other’s guts, we can beat the shit out of each other in the Battle Bowl itself but let’s at least do our best to get there?!”
Kate is surprised to hear the normally stoic and unflappable Matthias talking like this.
“You need to chill the fuck out Matti. This doesn’t even matter, what’s the prize? Being last in the Havoc Rumble? You could lose on Monday and draw the second to last number at random, who cares? It’s not like having a title, now that would carry some prestige.”
Kate immediately realises what she’s said.
“Sorry… I didn’t mean to…”
For a brief second, Matthias is back in that hospital room. Stripped of his title and worried about the next steps. He takes a deep breath, something about being sat in public feeling sorry for himself makes him snap out of it, at least for now. All of a sudden he’s back in the hotel room from a few days ago. He’s the established star, the powerhouse, the real deal. The one who got the pin, the leader of the team that just knocked off the US champion.
“It’s fine, you’re right… fuck Frank Lowe, it’s good he’s my partner, if him and NATE manage to make the final match that’s 2 less people I’ve got to worry about.”
“Who are you up against, Kyle Kemp isn’t a top guy right?”
“Nah, just some clown who seems to be able to influence better wrestlers than him, fuck knows what happens why Dandy, Wesley and CJ realise what a fraud he is. I’ve been in a ring with him before…”
Matthias stops and flinches, the loss in the trios tournament still stung. He repeats himself and continues.
“...I’ve been in a ring with him before and I’m better than him, I’m not worried, he’s making up the numbers whilst Dandy and CJ try and get in the Battle Bowl for real. Nah, he’s not a problem, not even thinking about Kyle Kemp to be honest.”
“Good, you should be confident! I guess it’s just Carter Shaw you’ve got to worry about!”
Matthias tenses up. Traw Ma can tell but doesn’t really know the reason.
Carter Fucking Shaw.
“Ah yeah, fucking Carter. The fucking golden boy. Fucking superstar that guy.”
Kate realises she’s hit a nerve. Matthias swears a lot but even by his standards, that was an outburst.
“Honestly, the way people look at and talk about that guy you’d think he really was something special wouldn’t you?”
“I don’t…”
“Everyone thinks Carter Shaw is this big shot, but he’s the biggest example of Emperor’s New Clothes I’ve ever seen in Action Wrestling. What has he ever actually achieved? A fairly short TV title run? He gets talked about like he’s a main eventer, but for god’s sake, Estrella Luiz had a longer TV title run and she got beat by NATE! My brother Downfall has been champion for longer than Carter already and he’s just getting started, yet people don’t seem to respect him in the same way people suck up to Carter!”
“Matti I honestly didn’t mean…”
“He’s Mr All In I get that, but so fucking what? He climbed a ladder and grabbed a briefcase and has done nothing with it. I suppose it’s smart, if you know you’re not a main eventer why would you cash it in? It’s his free pass to having eyes on him for a whole year?! Fuck that. If he was any good, he’d have cashed it in already, what’s he waiting for? He’s just drawing this bullshit out as long as he possibly can so he can keep everyone falling for his reputation without ever actually doing anything.”
“Please stop…”
“Even in his own little group he’s obviously the second best. In the Lost Breed we’re equal but Philidor is just Ash Blake and the random members of the roster who weren’t doing anything else. And yet, because Ash Blake has flown to the top, straight past Carter I should add, he gets some rubbed off importance because of her? The whole thing is a fucking sham.”
Kate looks completely fed up, Matthias wasn’t usually a talker and that suited her. But she’d clearly touched a nerve by bringing up Carter Shaw. She always felt like Matthias had an inferiority complex and she thanked her lucky stars that he’d been on the winning side against Der Metzger and Twiztid Insane, his mood would have plummeted for weeks if he’d lost that, but Carter seemed a raw point.
“In a whole year I’ve been in the ring with Carter once. Two guys who show up every week and have made themselves successful. Shit, the amount of names who have come and gone since I debuted and it’s me and him still standing. You’d think our paths would’ve crossed more times but no. And on paper I don’t even care, those paths are just different, I’ve gone down the blood and guts route, winning titles and giving my all to defend them whilst he’s taken the high road. Schmoozing with the main event and beating NATE every couple of months to get a safe W on his record whilst not doing much more of note.”
Kate tenses up, she’s spotted something.
“And so what if he beat me in that one off match we had with no stakes? This is the first time we’ve faced with something actually riding on it. And I swear to you, that’s gonna be the difference. For me, being Battle Bowl Winner isn’t about being 30th in the Havoc Rumble, it’s about proving where I stand in this company, because apparently that’s something I need to do over and over again. If he goes in out this round he’s still Mr All in golden boy but I need this, just like I needed to win last week, and every time I’m put in this position I prove myself.”
Kate isn’t even looking at Matthias now.
“And that’ll be the difference, Carter has surfed a wave in Action Wrestling and one day soon he’ll come crashing off, but I’ve spent my whole year fighting that fight.”
Matthias realizes Kate’s attention isn’t on him any more.
“What? Am I boring you.”
Matthias becomes aware of a large figure standing right next to him, he looks up.
“That was a spectacular rant, Matty.”
A smirking Frank Lowe is standing right next to Matthias, flanked by The Hangmen.
“I thought I’d come to you this week, but forgive me for being surprised to find you here, I don’t know you well but I know this isn’t you.”
A number of the tables nearby have stopped eating and are warily looking at Frank and The Hangmen, waiters and serving staff have stopped too and are discussing what they can do, but they correctly sense the potential danger and understand there’s probably not a lot they can assist with. Matthias slowly pulls his chair out without getting flustered and stands up to Frank, their bodies face to face with nothing much in between.
“The fuck do you want?”
“Relax, you’ve got one more week of me being your ally and not your enemy. You and the dumb kids dumb Mom are safe this week.”
“So why are you here?”
“Same reason you’ve been calling me the last few days, I guess. We’ve got a common aim for now and I’m checking up on you to make sure you’re not gonna let me down next week. I thought it’d be helpful to show you that I can find you too, just the same as you can find me.”
“Don’t think I won’t drop you right here and now if you don’t back the fuck off.”
Frank smirks and nods as he takes a step backwards, neither Noose nor Shooter’s eyes move from Matthias.
“Like I said, that wouldn’t help either of our causes this week. But since we’re making threats I’ll make mine, the second the bell rings and we’ve won you need to watch your back. This truce between us lasts that long and not a second longer. You understand?”
“Loud and clear Frank, but don’t go doing anything stupid. I can hurt you a lot more than you can hurt me.”
Frank takes a step forward again so they’re nose to nose.
“You sure?”
Matthias doesn’t back down.
“Yep.”
Noose takes a step forwards towards Matthias but Frank holds out his arm.
“Not now, but soon.”
Frank relaxes with a smile and backs off. Matthias’ tension lowers too. As does that of some of the nearby diners who recognise this isn’t turning into a fight.
“See you Monday… enjoy your meal.”
They turn to leave, Noose grabs a half drunk bottle of White Wine from a table nearby as he walks past, the two people sat there don’t react, sensibly.
Matthias sits down and turns back to Kate, she’s obviously a bit shaken and feeling very self conscious, even as other diners uncomfortably start eating their meals again.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t want to make a scene.”
“It’s not your fault, I’ve had worse with NATE. Speaking of NATE, lets go home, dumb bastard’s probably got his head stuck in the stairway by now.”
Matthias nods, he glances over to check Frank and The Hangmen are out of sight. Frank made him sick, but on a weird level he was glad he was on his side.
Frank steps outside of the restaurant with Shooter and Noose close behind. Frank cinched his jacket to protect against the abysmal cold, and he looked for the car.
“Where’s that big sumbitch at? He was supposed to pull up in front of the goddamn restaurant and be waiting when we got out! Goddamn it! That big fuckin’ idiot can’t do shit right!”
Suddenly, an Escalade driven by Corey Bull arrived. Loa is sitting shotgun when Frank approaches and opens the door.
“Nope. I’ve got shotgun, toots. Hop in back.”
Loa looks at Frank with fire in her eyes before abiding by the directive and moving to a back seat. Noose and Shooter both pile into seats in the back and the group departs.
Kyle Kemp, huh? That’s the guy I get to lock onto this week and destroy? Oh, boy. Bring it.
Cults are a dime a dozen in this fucking place, aren’t they? Everybody wants to be the man who can command lesser men to do whatever they want, right? Whether they’re a David Koresh or Jim Jones or a Marshall Applewhite, the ending is kind of always the same, isn’t it? A bunch of dead bodies, a army of broken promises, and the kind of legacy that makes everyone in the future point and laugh at how goddamn stupid everyone who fell in line must’ve been.
But you think you’re real fuckin’ special, don’t you, Kyle? When you look in a mirror, you don’t see a man who bought a fuckin’ house with someone else’s fuckin’ money, do you? You aren’t looking at the bridesmaid who just can’t cross the finish line and win the biggest prizes, are you? Look, Kyle, your biggest accomplishments have been those you secured when you were attached at the hip to bigger, better superstars than you are. You’re atag team legend in this place, right? Who have your noteworthy partners been? Spencer Adams and Dandy DiVito. What do both of those guys have that you don’t, Kyle? It’s world championships, isn’t it? It’s accolades you could only fucking dream about and wish for! You tell the world time and time again that you built The Following to make people better, but what I look at when I see your group is a bunch of flowery, pussy nonsense. You wanna be better? Better than what?! Better is a horseshit term that weak fuckin’ people use when they can’t tell you what they actually want, when they can’t define real success! A piece of shit like Nathan Gust lost time and time again, right? His wife did the same thing until real recently. What’s better to either of those wastes of flesh and air? When you’ve lost 50 in a row, a win is an improvement even if that win comes at the expense of some piece of shit who lost 51 in a row before you beat ‘em. Better is fucking empty, Kyle! Better is a moving target. Better is what assholes who know they’ll never get good aim for. Better is worthless. Best is where it’s fuckin’ at. Best is the Raging Frank Lowe aim day in and day out. When you stand across the ring from me, you’ll always know that you’re standing across the ring from the best goddamn performer in this fucking company, the best wrestler in a generation, the best fucking hardcore champion this company’s ever seen. When I’m standing across the ring from you, Kyle? Psh. All I know is I’m staring at a fuckin’ pansy who understands that he’s such a fuckin’ past-the-expiration-date talent that best ain’t even on his radar anymore. Kyle, you’re an old fuckin’ dog at this point, and come Clash, I’m gonna be the one to put your can’t-learn-a-new-trick ass down for the count.
I know you boys have been spending your time sweating what’s going to happen in your stable wars, but the ultimate irony of that shit is that while you’ve been building your defenses against the war coming from some other group, you’ve been missing what’s staring you right in the eye: your house of cards isn’t gonna collapse because of what some other house of cards does to it, Kyle. Nope. Your cards will topple because somebody like Raging Frank Lowe huffs and puffs and blows those fuckers to kingdom come. When you spend your whole attention span preparing for the threats you anticipate, you forget to consider the ones you don’t expect like me. It’s the same reason McVeigh was able to knock the shit out of Oklahoma City and those patriots were able to storm the capitol building in January: the government decided the threat was something that might have been threatening, sure, but it was nowhere near the greatest threat posed. Kyle, you look at Philidor and you see an existential threat. It’s part of why it’s so damn hilarious to see you and Shaw teamed up in the first place really. When you look at me, be honest here… do you see an existential threat there, too? Because you really fuckin’ oughta, Kyle. I’m a man who makes the tough decisions. A man who does the truly hard to do things. I’m a man who will do any goddamn thing I need to to get what I want, and right now? I want to be the final entrant in the Havoc Rumble. I need to be the final entrant in the Havoc Rumble. I have the support of some powerful men around me, Kyle, sure, but the benefit that I have that you absolutely do not is that my men, my employees, know their role: push me to the fucking moon at all costs. Yours? Hmm. Much more shaky ground there, man. Do you really think that Dandy DiVito, the man who trashed his friendship with Alex Richards over the promise of a main event match last year won’t throw you out like old garbage if something better comes up? What about Chase Jackson? Do you think you can threaten him over and over and over without facing any consequences? CJ Phoenix? How soon will it be until he does something you don’t like and you give him the ol’ Odin Balfore? I’d ask about Wesley, but word is that dude’s got the higher brain function of a fucking spud at this point. I think your allegiance is fairly safe there. You’ve got a pack of hungry dogs that you’ve been feeding just enough to keep them from eating you alive, but at some point, those dogs will realize what they could have without you and then… hmm. It’s gonna look like feeding time. Mark my words, Kyle. I’ve seen that shit a thousand times. Your little cult will either end itself the old fashioned way or your boys will see the light and mutiny your ass.
So when I smack the living shit out of you in this tag match, Kyle, just remember, I’m trying to help you be better… Well, maybe not better, but I’m certainly trying to save you from yourself. When I knock your dick in the dirt and embarrass you in front of your men, maybe they’ll just wise up and leave. That’s best case scenario for you, dipshit.
The Escalade pulls up at Frank’s hotel and everyone piles out except Bull and Loa.
“Let’s go! We’ve got strategy to talk and you’re on the fucking clock!”
Bull closes his eyes and lets out an angry breath.
“No. We’re going home. Fuck yourself, Frank.”
Bull pulls away as Loa climbs up into the front seat.
“Can you boys fucking believe the audacity of that motherfucker? Wow! It’s like he doesn’t understand what it means to be a Hangman.”
“Just let it go, Frank. It ain’t worth making a big deal outta right now.”
“I’ve got to deal with Matty being a fucking enemy and my teammate; I should have to deal with that bullshit with Bull, too! If he keeps getting out of hand, I’m gonna need you boys to step up to put him in his place, ok?”
“Yeah, boss. Got it.”
“Matty, too! As soon as the match is over, feel free to wreck him, ok? He deserves ZERO allegiance from me or anyone else.”
“Yup. Cool. They get outta line, and we make ‘em swallow their teeth. Easy.”
The trio looks once more at the taillights of the Escalade and Frank dismissively shakes his head before leading his men into the hotel.
Honestly, he’d lay on that bed a week ago in agony, wondering what came next. On the face of it, Matthias wasn’t one for self doubt. Spencer Adams had described Matthias’ approach as “See enemy, hurt enemy” and Matthias had taken that as a badge of honour as much as anything. But every match takes its toll physically and every loss takes something out of you mentally as well. Winning the Hardcore title was a Herculean effort in the first place, his plans to hold it were thorough, intense… a lengthy and dominant reign was what he envisioned and was prepared for… but he lost. His body hurt. He hurt.
He heard that very same night about his Battle Bowl draw. Him and a previous enemy, Frank Lowe, against two hot shot newcomers in round one. Der Metzger and Twiztid Insane Haunted Matthias’ dreams for a week but not for the same reason as many feared them. Matthias meant it when he said he didn’t scare easily, he’d come across plenty of mental patients from Kiel before moving to the states so Der Metzger wasn’t a worry, and he wasn’t scared of clowns and that seemed to be all Twiztid Insane brought to the table but it was what they’d represented. New, with a buzz that Matthias was afraid he was losing, they had eyes on them that maybe, not that long ago, were on Matthias.
Losing wasn’t an option, and Matthias didn’t lose.
So now, a week on from that night in hospital Matthias lies back on his hotel bed. Not in much less pain than he had been that fateful night, his body was just about still holding up. The aches and pains were a constant these days, but tonight was a night where his mind let him settle, for once.
There was more to come. Could he really get NATE to fluke another win next week? What would James and Alice do to him if he couldn’t? Carter Shaw and Kyle Kemp weren’t flashes in the pan, they’d pose a problem, what state would he be in? He and Frank Lowe had just about functioned together but that felt like it could collapse at any moment, would that unholy alliance last another match?
As a rare treat, though, these questions could wait until tomorrow.
-----
Matthias Mintzel looks at his phone. He wasn’t sure why, but he instinctively felt he needed to speak to Frank again, but he couldn’t go down to Frank’s local again, that’d seem desperate.
“You’re acting like he’s your boyfriend and you’re waiting for him to call.”
Matthias growls.
NATE had been asleep for 13 hours after spending 3 days awake and was unlikely to wake up any time soon, so Matthias and NATE’s adopted Mom Kate Taw (better known as Traw Ma) had taken the opportunity to go on a rare date. They were remembering why they did this so rarely, neither was interested in the other due to their personality and conversational skills. For Matthias, it was some fun whilst it lasted, for Kate she’d somehow managed to trick someone into giving NATE some attention so she at least had a bit of time to herself, for the first time in years. Mutually convenient, the phrase was.
“Don’t growl at me.”
“He’s a fucking idiot. Nothing at all after the match, you’d think he’d at least have thanked me for getting him through.”
“What are you craving that guy’s approval for? You beat him twice.”
“I’m not, he’s a fucking loser. Fuck that guy.”
“Yeah you don’t sound bothered.”
Kate rolls her eyes and pours herself another glass of wine. Not the best date she’d ever had, but anything was better than listening to NATE singing that song over and over again.
“You’re the strong part of this team. You beat Frank Lowe twice, you got the pin on Monday night, just show up and do your thing, don’t let him bother you. Honestly, I think you could’ve got a worse partner…”
“You’d think he’d take it seriously though, huh? Like, we can hate each other’s guts, we can beat the shit out of each other in the Battle Bowl itself but let’s at least do our best to get there?!”
Kate is surprised to hear the normally stoic and unflappable Matthias talking like this.
“You need to chill the fuck out Matti. This doesn’t even matter, what’s the prize? Being last in the Havoc Rumble? You could lose on Monday and draw the second to last number at random, who cares? It’s not like having a title, now that would carry some prestige.”
Kate immediately realises what she’s said.
“Sorry… I didn’t mean to…”
For a brief second, Matthias is back in that hospital room. Stripped of his title and worried about the next steps. He takes a deep breath, something about being sat in public feeling sorry for himself makes him snap out of it, at least for now. All of a sudden he’s back in the hotel room from a few days ago. He’s the established star, the powerhouse, the real deal. The one who got the pin, the leader of the team that just knocked off the US champion.
“It’s fine, you’re right… fuck Frank Lowe, it’s good he’s my partner, if him and NATE manage to make the final match that’s 2 less people I’ve got to worry about.”
“Who are you up against, Kyle Kemp isn’t a top guy right?”
“Nah, just some clown who seems to be able to influence better wrestlers than him, fuck knows what happens why Dandy, Wesley and CJ realise what a fraud he is. I’ve been in a ring with him before…”
Matthias stops and flinches, the loss in the trios tournament still stung. He repeats himself and continues.
“...I’ve been in a ring with him before and I’m better than him, I’m not worried, he’s making up the numbers whilst Dandy and CJ try and get in the Battle Bowl for real. Nah, he’s not a problem, not even thinking about Kyle Kemp to be honest.”
“Good, you should be confident! I guess it’s just Carter Shaw you’ve got to worry about!”
Matthias tenses up. Traw Ma can tell but doesn’t really know the reason.
Carter Fucking Shaw.
“Ah yeah, fucking Carter. The fucking golden boy. Fucking superstar that guy.”
Kate realises she’s hit a nerve. Matthias swears a lot but even by his standards, that was an outburst.
“Honestly, the way people look at and talk about that guy you’d think he really was something special wouldn’t you?”
“I don’t…”
“Everyone thinks Carter Shaw is this big shot, but he’s the biggest example of Emperor’s New Clothes I’ve ever seen in Action Wrestling. What has he ever actually achieved? A fairly short TV title run? He gets talked about like he’s a main eventer, but for god’s sake, Estrella Luiz had a longer TV title run and she got beat by NATE! My brother Downfall has been champion for longer than Carter already and he’s just getting started, yet people don’t seem to respect him in the same way people suck up to Carter!”
“Matti I honestly didn’t mean…”
“He’s Mr All In I get that, but so fucking what? He climbed a ladder and grabbed a briefcase and has done nothing with it. I suppose it’s smart, if you know you’re not a main eventer why would you cash it in? It’s his free pass to having eyes on him for a whole year?! Fuck that. If he was any good, he’d have cashed it in already, what’s he waiting for? He’s just drawing this bullshit out as long as he possibly can so he can keep everyone falling for his reputation without ever actually doing anything.”
“Please stop…”
“Even in his own little group he’s obviously the second best. In the Lost Breed we’re equal but Philidor is just Ash Blake and the random members of the roster who weren’t doing anything else. And yet, because Ash Blake has flown to the top, straight past Carter I should add, he gets some rubbed off importance because of her? The whole thing is a fucking sham.”
Kate looks completely fed up, Matthias wasn’t usually a talker and that suited her. But she’d clearly touched a nerve by bringing up Carter Shaw. She always felt like Matthias had an inferiority complex and she thanked her lucky stars that he’d been on the winning side against Der Metzger and Twiztid Insane, his mood would have plummeted for weeks if he’d lost that, but Carter seemed a raw point.
“In a whole year I’ve been in the ring with Carter once. Two guys who show up every week and have made themselves successful. Shit, the amount of names who have come and gone since I debuted and it’s me and him still standing. You’d think our paths would’ve crossed more times but no. And on paper I don’t even care, those paths are just different, I’ve gone down the blood and guts route, winning titles and giving my all to defend them whilst he’s taken the high road. Schmoozing with the main event and beating NATE every couple of months to get a safe W on his record whilst not doing much more of note.”
Kate tenses up, she’s spotted something.
“And so what if he beat me in that one off match we had with no stakes? This is the first time we’ve faced with something actually riding on it. And I swear to you, that’s gonna be the difference. For me, being Battle Bowl Winner isn’t about being 30th in the Havoc Rumble, it’s about proving where I stand in this company, because apparently that’s something I need to do over and over again. If he goes in out this round he’s still Mr All in golden boy but I need this, just like I needed to win last week, and every time I’m put in this position I prove myself.”
Kate isn’t even looking at Matthias now.
“And that’ll be the difference, Carter has surfed a wave in Action Wrestling and one day soon he’ll come crashing off, but I’ve spent my whole year fighting that fight.”
Matthias realizes Kate’s attention isn’t on him any more.
“What? Am I boring you.”
Matthias becomes aware of a large figure standing right next to him, he looks up.
“That was a spectacular rant, Matty.”
A smirking Frank Lowe is standing right next to Matthias, flanked by The Hangmen.
“I thought I’d come to you this week, but forgive me for being surprised to find you here, I don’t know you well but I know this isn’t you.”
A number of the tables nearby have stopped eating and are warily looking at Frank and The Hangmen, waiters and serving staff have stopped too and are discussing what they can do, but they correctly sense the potential danger and understand there’s probably not a lot they can assist with. Matthias slowly pulls his chair out without getting flustered and stands up to Frank, their bodies face to face with nothing much in between.
“The fuck do you want?”
“Relax, you’ve got one more week of me being your ally and not your enemy. You and the dumb kids dumb Mom are safe this week.”
“So why are you here?”
“Same reason you’ve been calling me the last few days, I guess. We’ve got a common aim for now and I’m checking up on you to make sure you’re not gonna let me down next week. I thought it’d be helpful to show you that I can find you too, just the same as you can find me.”
“Don’t think I won’t drop you right here and now if you don’t back the fuck off.”
Frank smirks and nods as he takes a step backwards, neither Noose nor Shooter’s eyes move from Matthias.
“Like I said, that wouldn’t help either of our causes this week. But since we’re making threats I’ll make mine, the second the bell rings and we’ve won you need to watch your back. This truce between us lasts that long and not a second longer. You understand?”
“Loud and clear Frank, but don’t go doing anything stupid. I can hurt you a lot more than you can hurt me.”
Frank takes a step forward again so they’re nose to nose.
“You sure?”
Matthias doesn’t back down.
“Yep.”
Noose takes a step forwards towards Matthias but Frank holds out his arm.
“Not now, but soon.”
Frank relaxes with a smile and backs off. Matthias’ tension lowers too. As does that of some of the nearby diners who recognise this isn’t turning into a fight.
“See you Monday… enjoy your meal.”
They turn to leave, Noose grabs a half drunk bottle of White Wine from a table nearby as he walks past, the two people sat there don’t react, sensibly.
Matthias sits down and turns back to Kate, she’s obviously a bit shaken and feeling very self conscious, even as other diners uncomfortably start eating their meals again.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t want to make a scene.”
“It’s not your fault, I’ve had worse with NATE. Speaking of NATE, lets go home, dumb bastard’s probably got his head stuck in the stairway by now.”
Matthias nods, he glances over to check Frank and The Hangmen are out of sight. Frank made him sick, but on a weird level he was glad he was on his side.
Frank steps outside of the restaurant with Shooter and Noose close behind. Frank cinched his jacket to protect against the abysmal cold, and he looked for the car.
“Where’s that big sumbitch at? He was supposed to pull up in front of the goddamn restaurant and be waiting when we got out! Goddamn it! That big fuckin’ idiot can’t do shit right!”
Suddenly, an Escalade driven by Corey Bull arrived. Loa is sitting shotgun when Frank approaches and opens the door.
“Nope. I’ve got shotgun, toots. Hop in back.”
Loa looks at Frank with fire in her eyes before abiding by the directive and moving to a back seat. Noose and Shooter both pile into seats in the back and the group departs.
-----
Kyle Kemp, huh? That’s the guy I get to lock onto this week and destroy? Oh, boy. Bring it.
Cults are a dime a dozen in this fucking place, aren’t they? Everybody wants to be the man who can command lesser men to do whatever they want, right? Whether they’re a David Koresh or Jim Jones or a Marshall Applewhite, the ending is kind of always the same, isn’t it? A bunch of dead bodies, a army of broken promises, and the kind of legacy that makes everyone in the future point and laugh at how goddamn stupid everyone who fell in line must’ve been.
But you think you’re real fuckin’ special, don’t you, Kyle? When you look in a mirror, you don’t see a man who bought a fuckin’ house with someone else’s fuckin’ money, do you? You aren’t looking at the bridesmaid who just can’t cross the finish line and win the biggest prizes, are you? Look, Kyle, your biggest accomplishments have been those you secured when you were attached at the hip to bigger, better superstars than you are. You’re atag team legend in this place, right? Who have your noteworthy partners been? Spencer Adams and Dandy DiVito. What do both of those guys have that you don’t, Kyle? It’s world championships, isn’t it? It’s accolades you could only fucking dream about and wish for! You tell the world time and time again that you built The Following to make people better, but what I look at when I see your group is a bunch of flowery, pussy nonsense. You wanna be better? Better than what?! Better is a horseshit term that weak fuckin’ people use when they can’t tell you what they actually want, when they can’t define real success! A piece of shit like Nathan Gust lost time and time again, right? His wife did the same thing until real recently. What’s better to either of those wastes of flesh and air? When you’ve lost 50 in a row, a win is an improvement even if that win comes at the expense of some piece of shit who lost 51 in a row before you beat ‘em. Better is fucking empty, Kyle! Better is a moving target. Better is what assholes who know they’ll never get good aim for. Better is worthless. Best is where it’s fuckin’ at. Best is the Raging Frank Lowe aim day in and day out. When you stand across the ring from me, you’ll always know that you’re standing across the ring from the best goddamn performer in this fucking company, the best wrestler in a generation, the best fucking hardcore champion this company’s ever seen. When I’m standing across the ring from you, Kyle? Psh. All I know is I’m staring at a fuckin’ pansy who understands that he’s such a fuckin’ past-the-expiration-date talent that best ain’t even on his radar anymore. Kyle, you’re an old fuckin’ dog at this point, and come Clash, I’m gonna be the one to put your can’t-learn-a-new-trick ass down for the count.
I know you boys have been spending your time sweating what’s going to happen in your stable wars, but the ultimate irony of that shit is that while you’ve been building your defenses against the war coming from some other group, you’ve been missing what’s staring you right in the eye: your house of cards isn’t gonna collapse because of what some other house of cards does to it, Kyle. Nope. Your cards will topple because somebody like Raging Frank Lowe huffs and puffs and blows those fuckers to kingdom come. When you spend your whole attention span preparing for the threats you anticipate, you forget to consider the ones you don’t expect like me. It’s the same reason McVeigh was able to knock the shit out of Oklahoma City and those patriots were able to storm the capitol building in January: the government decided the threat was something that might have been threatening, sure, but it was nowhere near the greatest threat posed. Kyle, you look at Philidor and you see an existential threat. It’s part of why it’s so damn hilarious to see you and Shaw teamed up in the first place really. When you look at me, be honest here… do you see an existential threat there, too? Because you really fuckin’ oughta, Kyle. I’m a man who makes the tough decisions. A man who does the truly hard to do things. I’m a man who will do any goddamn thing I need to to get what I want, and right now? I want to be the final entrant in the Havoc Rumble. I need to be the final entrant in the Havoc Rumble. I have the support of some powerful men around me, Kyle, sure, but the benefit that I have that you absolutely do not is that my men, my employees, know their role: push me to the fucking moon at all costs. Yours? Hmm. Much more shaky ground there, man. Do you really think that Dandy DiVito, the man who trashed his friendship with Alex Richards over the promise of a main event match last year won’t throw you out like old garbage if something better comes up? What about Chase Jackson? Do you think you can threaten him over and over and over without facing any consequences? CJ Phoenix? How soon will it be until he does something you don’t like and you give him the ol’ Odin Balfore? I’d ask about Wesley, but word is that dude’s got the higher brain function of a fucking spud at this point. I think your allegiance is fairly safe there. You’ve got a pack of hungry dogs that you’ve been feeding just enough to keep them from eating you alive, but at some point, those dogs will realize what they could have without you and then… hmm. It’s gonna look like feeding time. Mark my words, Kyle. I’ve seen that shit a thousand times. Your little cult will either end itself the old fashioned way or your boys will see the light and mutiny your ass.
So when I smack the living shit out of you in this tag match, Kyle, just remember, I’m trying to help you be better… Well, maybe not better, but I’m certainly trying to save you from yourself. When I knock your dick in the dirt and embarrass you in front of your men, maybe they’ll just wise up and leave. That’s best case scenario for you, dipshit.
-----
The Escalade pulls up at Frank’s hotel and everyone piles out except Bull and Loa.
“Let’s go! We’ve got strategy to talk and you’re on the fucking clock!”
Bull closes his eyes and lets out an angry breath.
“No. We’re going home. Fuck yourself, Frank.”
Bull pulls away as Loa climbs up into the front seat.
“Can you boys fucking believe the audacity of that motherfucker? Wow! It’s like he doesn’t understand what it means to be a Hangman.”
“Just let it go, Frank. It ain’t worth making a big deal outta right now.”
“I’ve got to deal with Matty being a fucking enemy and my teammate; I should have to deal with that bullshit with Bull, too! If he keeps getting out of hand, I’m gonna need you boys to step up to put him in his place, ok?”
“Yeah, boss. Got it.”
“Matty, too! As soon as the match is over, feel free to wreck him, ok? He deserves ZERO allegiance from me or anyone else.”
“Yup. Cool. They get outta line, and we make ‘em swallow their teeth. Easy.”
The trio looks once more at the taillights of the Escalade and Frank dismissively shakes his head before leading his men into the hotel.