MD 151 - Blazing Tiger vs Randy Studd (EOL)
RP deadline is Wednesday May 23 at 11:59pm PST
Extensions available upon request
May 17th – The Circus
Tiger sits on his bed, glancing at the LCD screen of the alarm clock. 5:45 – the sun’s been up for 15 minutes already. He should have remembered and woken up earlier. He sighs and opens a plastic bottle, swallowing the pink tablet inside. No time to be gambling. Not now he’s here. It’s not the worst of his transgressions anyway. He tugs the mask down, covering his mouth again as he heads down into the main training area of The Circus. Silence, still too early for anyone else to be training yet. headphones on over his mask he rolls into the ring turning his back to the door and begins to warm up, working up a sweat while he waits for the torture session to begin.
It’s Wunderbar who’s first to arrive, after Tiger. “Once again you stand in my ring.” He slaps Tiger’s shoulder hard from behind. Startled Tiger spins on the spot, face to face with the crew cut taskmaster.
“I ain’t leaving willingly, Will.” Tiger says with a bravado he doesn’t feel. He stretches out his arms as if daring him to take a shot. “
Wunderbar simply laughs. “I told you not to set foot in my ring until you are worthy. If you are eager to be given another demonstration of the difference between man and beast, be my guest.”
Three minutes later, Tiger rolls out of the ring, clutching his wrenched arm clearly in pain. Michael tosses him a towel and a bottle of water. “Why do you do this to yourself every day?” He sighs, leading the way to a set of mats to begin the training proper. “You have to realise that you’re not going to beat him until you can actually wrestle, and you’re hurting your own learning by trying to learn while compensating for pain.”
Tiger takes a sip and shrugs. “I ain’t trying to beat 'im.”
“Come again?” Michael says in disbelief, blinking a few times as he tries to process the statement.
“You fink I don’t know I ain’t on Wunderbar’s level? He made Steven Holmes tap out, he’s made Vega tap out. I ain’t nofing on those guys.” He starts shaking some feeling back into his still painful arm. “Fuck, and that’s not even looking at the people he trained.”
“So why get in the ring with him.” Michael asks, sounding genuinely confused.
“I ain’t going to beat 'im, not any time soon. But I don’t need to right now. I need to survive.” Tiger says calmly, as if that explains everything.
“Surviving and winning. In the ring there is no difference.” Michael says with a frown. “And even if there was a difference, why throw yourself around like a lunatic and barely escape with your dignity when there’s infinite ways to manipulate and manoeuvre your opponent to gain victory without such foolishness.”
Tiger inclines his head, acknowledging the point. “Yeah, but Wunderbar has something most guys ain’t got. He don’t care who you are or what he does. Most guys they ‘ave a conscience. Hurt someone too bad and they’ll stop, at least for a bit. Wunderbar though? He only gets pissed that you ain’t hurt enough.” He puts the bottle on the ground. “I ain’t going to be able to outwrestle anyone in WZCW. But, if I can survive for long enough to get 'em to fight my way then I stand a chance.” He puts his hands up and nods. “Lets go Mike.”
“And yet fighting your way gave Harald Van Krigare an easy opening to knock you out and you defeated Logan McAllister with kindergarten level wrestling. Think about that, Tiger. There’s a reason you’re here, and it’s not because your style is a recipe for success.” He puts his own arms up in a guard approaching slowly and confidently. “Collar and elbow.” He orders as the grappling training for the day starts.
Hours later finally the call is made for a lunch break. “Meet back at 2.” Michael states, his tone making it clear that he’s not asking a question.
“Sure.” Tiger says, nonplussed. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Sascha. Internally he groans not looking forward to what he knows comes next. None the less he heads towards his manager.
“Good timing.” She states in her usual business tone. “Congratulations for your victory, earn another and you should make the finals.”
“I ain’t losing to Randy.”
“Hold that thought.” She says, one hand on her client’s shoulder guiding him into the warmth outside of the training compound – the spring sunlight finally burning through the clouds. A cameraman stands waiting, smoking a cigarette. As he sees Sascha and Tiger emerge he stubs it out beneath his heel and hoists up the camera. Another man hands her a microphone. At a nod she turns to the masked man. “Tiger, you’re now two thirds of the way through the Elite Openweight League, what do you think of your previous opponents and your upcoming match with the number 1 ranked Randy Studd?”
He thinks for a moment before answering. “It’s ‘ard to answer that, since both my previous opponents and matches were so different. Krigare, the man’s a warrior with a brain as powerful as his boot. To debut against ‘im was amazing. One day I’d like to do ‘im again, but not until I’ve improved some more – I’d like to even up the score! Logan’s a damn tough guy, I ain’t going to lie, I got lucky with that rollup.” Another pause as if he’s searching for words. “But I suppose what’s different between them and Studd is respect. Both those guys I can look in the eyes and say I respect them. If I won or lost I could hold my head up and be happy. The best man won on the day. No hard feelings. Logan, he wants to do what’s right by his kid – he might not be going about it in the same way I would but I can respect that. Harald? Anyone who don’t respect ‘im is special. I don’t respect Randy Studd though.”
Sascha pulls the mic away, cutting him off. “And why is that? Why don’t you respect Randy Studd, after all, he’s a former mayhem champion and has put away both men you claim to respect.”
“Because he’s a bellend.” He says in a perfectly calm tone
“But it’s more than that. I can respect a bell end, as long as they own it. Randy Studd hasn’t owned up to anything in his life. He’s an insecure, shallow, toxic little prick who’s overcompensating for something. Whether he was bullied as a kid or he needs to stuff his trunks, or whatever the fuck else he has going on underneath that oil slick he calls hair, I don’t care.” He takes a deep breath as if forcing himself to be calm. “Truth be told Randy’s nothing special. I could go out back home and find a dozen guys just like him that see people as nothing but a game where the prize is a wet dick at the end of the night. Randy Studd ain’t nothing special. That’s what makes ‘im different from everyone else in this league.”
The mic moves to her mouth again. “Interesting, and do you have any thoughts about your potential opponents at Kingdom Come?” Once again it tilts towards Tiger.
He nods. “Well, I ain’t going to comment on the possibility of the Mayhem Championship, since considering that would mean losing to Studd, and... no. But as for the other league, I ‘ope Vega makes it to the final.” He points to the Circus door. “I’m being trained by a guy with a history with Vega. He’s still bitter about his title being stolen. I guess I’d like to settle things, whether that’s at Kingdom Come or one on one. Lynx, he’s been having a ‘ard time of late, ironic for someone who claims to maintain the causality of the universe or whatever the fuck. But just because he sounds like a nutcase don’t mean he should be underestimated. He was champion for a reason, and on ‘is night could easily take any one of us out. Callie Clark? That one talks too much, and she’s got a knack for pissing people off. Useful, in this business but she’s dangerous. She’s smart and can back up ‘er gassing in the ring and knows ‘ow to make people beat themselves. She can find a weakness in a person from across a room and press their buttons to get the reaction she wants, because she knows angry people get sloppy.”
“And any final words for your opponent at Meltdown 151?” Sascha asks, handing you the microphone and stepping slightly away so the camera can focus solely on you
“Randy Studd, you talk a big game, but in my experience guys that ever talked like you stopped when they had enough experience not to need to brag. You act like you’re a man who knows the receptionists in Greenway by name, like you’ve had a few rounds of penicillin in your arse. I see through you though. You’re a pussy that only approaches girls after they’re too wasted to say no. You call yourself The Ladies’ Man, when you’re neither. You ain’t a real man and no ladies want you when they have an option. You think you’re hot Randy, but guess what? You ain’t hot enough to stand against a wildfire and you’re going to end the night on your back looking at the ceiling… First time for everything, I guess.”
Randy Studd's Rules for Life. Chapter 3 - Look the Part
Another week another lesson. Last time around big Harald didn't take me seriously and I beat him handsomely. By which I mean I was handsome whilst I beat him, as opposed to beating him with ease. Though I suppose I did that too. You see, the thing is people think that I have the eyes on the ladies. That I'm always distracted, but the reality couldn't be further from the truth. I'm a focussed and serious competitor, and then after the show, at the after party I'm always totally invited to, that's where the magic happens.
Look, I'm up there with the best. Usain Bolt had the Swedish Volleyball team back in his room after winning the London Olympics? Once I win this group and then the Elite Openweight Belt, I will have the Swedish Volleyball team and the Swedish Synchronised swimming team in there. Because I'm just that good.
But I can hear you asking 'how is it possible?'. How can I have my eyes on the prize and still be so sure that the ladies are going to flock to me when all is said and done and the fat lady is singing. Shortly before I politely rebuff the fat ladies advances?
It's because not only am I a winner. Not only am I focussed on being the champion but in the process of getting there, I do it whilst looking my best. I'm going to beat Blazing Tiger, and then I'm going to beat whoever is the Elite Openweight Champion at Kingdom Come, and the longer people keep underestimating me, the easier that will be. But the difference between me and whoever wins the other group isn't out commitment to the cause, its aesthetics.
Every single hair on my head is perfectly placed during each match. The way I ensure that is that I put a small drop of super glue in my hair gel. This has the effect of not only holding the hair in position, but also giving it the characteristic shine that glistens in the spotlights.
My opponent this week doesn't do any such hair treatment, because he hides beneath a tiger fur mask. The thing is, there's a reason that people have fur rugs in their house - it's because they feel nice to walk all over just like I'm going to walk over Blazing Tiger. Nobody has hair rugs, hair is to be looked at, worshipped.
Staying on the mask, so much about making the moves, making a success of yourself with all the luscious females in the audience, is all about your facial expressions. Look at me, you can see what I'm feeling during a match. When I'm in pain, although that's rare, you can see my anguish. You can see I'm deep down a sensitive soul just waiting to be unlocked by the right woman. Or should I say women. When you look at Blazing Tiger, you see an emotionless cat.
When I'm on top, you can see the passion burning in my eyes, showing how intense of a man I can be, and maybe after the match, how intense of a lover. It's just clear, so obvious, that I am a man who can woo you and make you swoon. I am a man who can give a nod or a wink a glimmer of eye contact and the crowd, the women, they're all hooked. When you look at Blazing Tiger's eyes, you see red. But not red of anger, not a metaphor for passion, you literally see the colour red.
When I've won, you can see the smile on my face, beaming from corner to corner, ecstasy despite the fact the win was inevitable. I look elated and that makes the audience, particularly the females, join me as I ride on this crest of elation, safe in the knowledge that I have dominated the match. When they look at Blazing Tiger's smile, not that he has anything to smile about, they see a gaping jaw full of teeth. That is not something you want to get on board with, not at all.
You see, Blazing Tiger wears a mask. Is it because he's hiding something? Possibly. Is it because he's ugly? Probably. Is it because he's a coward? Definitely. There's nothing a bit of creative make up can't make look better, truth be told, I once thought about contouring, until I realised I look as good as this. But Blazing Tiger chooses still to hide. Why does he do that? It's because he's embarrassed. He has nothing to offer in the ring, and he has nothing to offer of his personality so he hides behind a veil hoping that he will make himself look interesting. But he doesn't, he just looks like a furry in latex.
You look at me, and you see a Golden God. An adonis, this looks like a body that you want wrapped around you on a Sunday morning. Blazing Tiger looks like someone you want to see the Power Rangers beat up on Sunday morning television. The guy is a cartoon character and I am the real deal, and I'm going to show him as much. Just like I showed Harald. Just like I showed Logan.
You see my greatest quality of all, is that I take myself seriously when nobody else will. Guys look at me and they think, this guy is all about the women, all about the flashiness, he is a speed bump. But I'm not, I'm a big deal who wins big matches, and the women just appreciate that. The playboy lifestyle is because of my success, not in spite of my success, and people need to take notice of that.
When I'm searching my own name on Twitter to check out the millions and millions of honeys that are trying to slide into my DMs, I see what the guys on the internet say about me. People talk about what will happen if this group has three joint winners? When Blazing Tiger beats me? Well people on the internet need to appreciate that whilst they are eating Cheetos in mom's basement, I'm in the penthouse suite having a little R and R with my loving fans.
I have won more championships than Blazing Tiger has won matches in WZCW, but I won't take him lightly because I know that the competition here is fierce and I know how hard it is to stay on top because I am there. I will beat him easily, but only because I take him seriously, even if he does look like an extra from Lion King. He may look sloppier than a hooker's pussy at sunrise in the ring, but I'm aware that he can make moves that nobody else can.
But it's not always about risk taking. Part of the reason I'm so successful with the ladies after the match is because I'm always still walking, always living to fight another day. Even when I was the Mayhem Champion, I made sure to never take too many risks, slow and steady wins the race as it was. Blazing Tiger will crash in a blaze of glory, whereas I'll just win. Solid, unspectacular but dependable. And that rock is what women are looking for.
All told, Blazing Tiger just doesn't cut it. He may be a Tiger, but I'm the king of the Jungle, the king of the Elite Openweight Tournament, and the King of the bedroom.
WrestleZone Tournament, 2015
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