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Discussion in 'WZCW Roleplay Board' started by Hyorinmaru, Aug 10, 2018.
RP Deadline is Tuesday August 21st at 11:59pm EST
**EXTENSIONS AVAILABLE UPON REQUEST**
**Deadline Has Been Extended 24 Hours**
Flex Fact #469: I once wrestled a polar bear while I had pneumonia, so don’t tell me you need better healthcare.
The monsieur of muscle and newly crowned number one contender King Mussel can be seen walking into WZCW headquarters. The Commander and Chief storms into the building with a purpose as he heads towards Chuck Myles’ office. The Fitness freak bursts into the room of the General Manager who is currently on a phone call.
Chuck (covering the phone with his hand): I’m in a call Flex, make an appointment and come back.
Flex: A King makes no appointments, he just appoints!
The General manager attempts to ignore Flex until he sees the bodybuilder begin to lift his desk up and down over his head. Chuck eventually gives into the annoyance and ends the phone call.
Chuck: Listen I’m gonna need to call you back.
Chuck hangs up the phone prompting Flex to put the desk down. The fitness freak then takes a seat, crossing his legs, attempting to be sophisticated.
Chuck: What can I do for you Flex?
Flex: It’s KING MUSSEL, and the question is Chuck what can you do for me? Because it’s a good thing for the King to owe you a favor.
Chuck: Cut to the chase I have a lot to do today.
Flex: Well how about you start it right by taking Eve Taylor out of the World title match?
Chuck: No can do, she’s owed a rematch, she signed a contract, it’s a done deal.
Flex: In the business world there is no such thing as a “done deal” only deals that are done.
The General manager is becoming visibly annoyed as Flex continues.
Flex: At Meltdown I beat 3 former world champions with 5 world titles between them, 5 minus 3 is 2, 2 divided by 2 is 1, 1 in three people are prone to horrific accidents, and we all know women are clumsy, so how about we save Eve the trouble and take her out of the match?
Chuck: It’s a triple threat match, deal with it.
Flex: Did you see what Eve did to Tyrone on Meltdown? And then what she did to Keaton on Ascension? The woman is out of her mind, surely due to some hormonal side effect out of her control of course, but nothing I should be punished for.
Chuck: If you saw Ascension then you know Eve cannot commit any atrocious acts like that again or risk losing her World title shot.
Flex: People with a mental illness do not think clearly Chuck, she is unstable and violent. And I for one am appalled that I am being forced to team with her on Meltdown.
Chuck: You’re gonna have to talk to Becky about that one.
Flex: I could have, but I decided to come to you Chuck, after all we do go way back.
Chuck: What are you talking about?
Flex: You may not remember it Chuck but it was you who booked me in my first WZCW match, all the way back when Aftershock was still a show. You took a chance on me and I’ll always appreciate it.
Chuck: Everest took a chance on you.
Flex: Tomato potato the point is that once WZCW R-Awakening is over I’ll be the Undisputed WZCW World Heavyweight champion. And you’ll be lucky enough to say you signed and discovered me before the fame.
Chuck: And your point is?
Flex: I’ve always liked you Chuck. And hell if it wasn’t for me Mussel Bombing Vance Bateman last year who knows if you would even have a job right now.
The General Manager begins to ponder the past events that led to his WZCW return.
Flex: I’m striving for change Chuck, real change. The type of change that means the same three people aren’t always contending for the World title. The type of change that puts restrictions on violent lunatics like Eve Taylor. The type of change that regulates and stops sociopaths and convicts from being employed by WZCW.
Chuck: We do background checks.
Flex: Well obviously you didn’t check hard enough because me: King Mussel, the hottest commodity in WZCW today is forced to team with a backstabbing #MeToo whiner against an urban degenerate and former assassin.
Chuck: Everyone embellishes a bit on their application.
Flex: I’ve heard Vega may have a killed someone before. Is that really the type of element we want being portrayed to the children? Not to mention Tyrone’s incessant use of rap culture and slang is surely detrimental to the younger WZCW audience.
Chuck: Isn’t your theme a rap song too?
Flex: Fake News Chuck! My point is I’m what’s best for not only WZCW but the future of this great country as a whole. I’m here to make things right Chuck, and with your help I can make sure you’re not only the Ascension General Manager, but the owner of this whole damn company.
Chuck: And what exactly would you need me to do?
Flex: Just take Eve Taylor out of the World title match, and make it one on one, just how it should be.
The General Manager ponders the thought, reminiscing on his past with Flex and considering how much influence the bodybuilder has garnered the past few years.
Chuck: Nah, I’m good Flex. It’s still going to be a triple threat. Now get out of my office.
The bodybuilder huffs and puffs as he stands up towering over the general manager.
Flex: I’m going to Make WZCW healthy again, with or without your help Chuck. So cross the borders into FlexAmerica before it’s too late. Because soon enough there will be a travel ban in place.
Chuck looks confused as Flex exits the office. He turns to walk down the hall and is shocked to come face to face with his future opponent and upcoming tag team partner Eve Taylor.
Eve: Wow, and they call me a snake.
Flex: Were you ease dropping on my conversation? It’s like Watergate all over again!
Eve: There is absolutely nothing you can do to take me out of this World title match.
Flex: Unless...you were to get involved in some non-match related altercation.
The bodybuilder approaches Eve in a threatening manner and the runway model readies for a fight until she sees Chuck Myles exit his office. The General manager looks on down the hall watching the pair converse.
Eve: Look you know having me in this match is just as much to your benefit as it is to mine.
Flex: How is that?
Eve: Tyrone has defeated you and me in consecutive weeks. You really think you can take him on alone?
Flex: THERE IS NO MOUNTAIN I CANNOT TOPPLE-
Eve: We may never be on the best of terms again but the fact is we’re on a team come Meltdown. And we could either spend that time bickering or use it to soften up Tyrone.
Flex: I don’t need your help softening up anything, Flex Fitness makes great moisturizer.
Eve: Sometimes I honestly can’t tell if you hear the words coming out of your mouth.
Flex: Sometimes I pretend I can’t hear you at all, almost makes me forget how much of a bitch you are.
The former World champion motions to slap Flex almost instinctually until she sees Chuck and notices the grin on Flex’s face. She then lowers her arm not wanting to play into the bodybuilder’s hand.
Eve: When did we get this bad?
Flex: When you turned your back on Cerb-
Eve: Don’t say that, it’s dead and in the past.
Flex: Oh don’t I know it, I’m focused on the future and that’s me as World champion.
Eve: Well do you want to get there in tact? If so we need to be on the same page to defeat Tyrone. He’s coming for blood after what we did to him on Meltdown. Not to mention Vega will surely be looking to beat us and claim a future World title shot.
Flex: Vega may be one of the very best in the company but since he’s come back it’s obvious he’s not ready for the big leagues, and do you really think he and Tyrone can go from adversaries to teammates in the blink of an eye?
Eve: They seemingly have a better chance than we do.
Flex begins to realize Eve may be right, but refuses to admit it.
Flex: Tyrone must be put down at all costs, and I’m willing to work with you to make sure that happens. If Vega gets in the way he’s going to get knocked down and steam rolled as well. But if you try to double cross me on Meltdown what I do to you will make my torture of Batti look like amateur bondage, you understand?
Eve: Loud and clear, see you on Meltdown “partner”.
Eve then walks away with a devilish smirk on her face as Flex begins dialing a number on his cellphone.
Flex: Maximus? We need to accelerate our plans. I’m going to need some backup on Meltdown. But in the meantime I once again have to carry a member of the opposite sex to success to balance the wage gap in our great country.
Eve Taylor sits in a director's chair surrounded by make-up artists applying foundation and eye shadow, hair stylists transforming Eve's long flowing hair into short spiky bangs and a personal fashionista who is attempting to mix and match clothing options. All of them are working tirelessly and scrambling to adhere to the demands of the supermodel formerly known as the Fabulous One. Eve is leaning back in her chair with her eyes closed, occasionally opening them when the fashionista has selected an option for her to review. She does not acknowledge the presence of anyone who approaches her, nor does she move to cater to anyone who wishes to talk to her. This does not change even when her former best friend, Stacey Madison, makes her appearance.
Normally, Eve Taylor would've been overjoyed to see Stacey, or Selena. She would get up, hug them and begin discussing as if they never finished their previous conversation. Now, Eve Taylor remains motionless. Stacey Madison takes a deep breath as she takes a seat next to Eve. She does her best to focus her glance elsewhere, not wanting to look at Eve.
"Getting an extreme make-over?"
Eve does not react to the little joke Stacey made about the situation.
"What is the occasion?"
Eve remains still and not opening any eyes to address her. Only her lips to make these statements.
"Yes. Whether we wanted this or not, change has happened. Management has changed. Champions have changed... friendships have changed."
Eve makes sure to pause to let that thought linger.
"The choices you made were yours to make and yours alone. Selena and I did not want to follow down that path so we made our own choice. If that changes our relationship, then I guess all of us had to incur the wrath of change. You didn't have to do what you did."
"Nor did you, Stacey. You could've stayed by my side and enjoyed everything you see here. Personal assistants and hired personnel to pamper you and attend to your every need. You could've received a higher position in the company and a substantial pay increase should I have remained champion. I was planning on using my pull to get you better spots here in a place I envisioned to be better."
Eve stops as the fashionista interrupts with a new design. Eve lazily opens one eye, dismisses the designs and closes it back again. The fashionista, flustered, goes back to their job. Eve did not look over at Stacey during this exchange.
"Yet, you decided to discard me like I meant nothing. Like a faulty design presented to me when I'm getting my hair did. Reggie, you better start impressing me or I'll find someone else."
"You're mad, Eve. You seriously expected us to deceive Tyrone like that? You were playing with some serious fire... you targeted something you shouldn't have."
"But was I wrong? I said that Tyrone Blades was willing to devour everything to become champion... and he did. He devoured Batti Otaku who is now no longer an active competitor. He devoured my life by having everyone I know and love turn against me. And he is about to devour this company as champion by making sure nobody else becomes a star. I love this place, Stacey. I love WZCW. I do not want this place to fall to someone like Tyrone Blades...
"... but apparently, everyone else is willingly along for the ride. The fans cheer for him and they boo me. They reject my vision to make this place better and they wish for his eternal destruction. Well, if everyone has made that decision to support chaos, just like you and Selena have, then I guess I'll have to go with the flow, shan't I? So, this transformation you are bearing witness to is evidence of that, Stacey. I am not the mainstream role model any more. I am the unwanted. I am the non-conformist. I am the anti-role model... and as the anti-model, I shall reflect that change."
"By dressing up like an alternative fashion model?"
"Yes. Fashion design is art and supermodels are the canvas to which these designs are displayed. As a fashion guru myself, I am the art and the canvas. I am the design and the frame. But I am no longer considered the alpha nor the omega. I am something else. I am an alternative because everyone views me as the alternative. Therefore, as decided by the people, I am an alternative fashion model. It was the choice of the people and I am merely giving them what they wanted."
Eve, for the first time, moves from her still position. She holds up her hand, tells everyone working on her look to stop and exit the room. Quickly, they all do, leaving Stacey and Eve in the room alone. Eve sits up slowly and turns her body towards Stacey. She locks eyes with her former friend and leans forward, resting her elbows on her knees and adopting a horrible posture. The eye shadow and the shadow from the lighting in the room make Eve's eyes almost invisible.
"Is it delusional to give what the people want? They want chaos because they clearly chose Tyrone Blades over me. So, I give them that. During Meltdown and Ascension, I made sure to cause as much chaos as possible. I interfered in the number one contenders match and attacked the champion from behind. For what purpose? To cause chaos, of course! I indulged in the wants of the fans and yet, they still boo me. Now, I could be delusional by trying to appeal to the flip-flopping opinions of the fans but I believe it is the fans who are delusional because they are hypocrites.
"Now, in the name of chaos, I have inadvertently positioned Flex Mussel as the new contender to the World championship. I admit that I influenced the outcome but out of all the options, Flex Mussel is probably the only person who deserves a title shot. Well, he should really get his shot after I get my re-match... and Titus Avison's reign as Eurasian champion is too great to deny him an opportunity. Should I have retained my title at Kingdom Come, which I still remain steadfast in my belief that I never lost because of an idiot referee, I was going to extend Titus with a title match because he was the only person who deserved it... but I digress. I am stuck with my decisions and those decisions have led me to teaming with Flex."
"Don't call it a Cerberus comeback, Stacey, when you do your journalistic thing. Flex Mussel is a never was and I have yet to fall from grace. There are no comeback stories here. Flex and I are simply two competitors who have a title shot against Tyrone Blades and we are teaming together for one time. Maybe we may use a double team move or two but it is merely to defeat the champion and Vega, who should be appreciative of receiving this major of a spotlight after accomplishing absolutely nothing since his return.
"... oh, and it is funny you call me delusional. After everything you did to Tyrone Blades, you have the nerve to call me that for what I did? What you did to him was selfish. What I did to him was selfless. I had Batti's best interests at heart. I had the fan's best interests at heart. I had the company at heart. I didn't have to do anything but I did it anyway because I truly care about this company... but once again, we reach the consensus that nobody cares for me any more. I am merely an alternative... but sometimes the alternative is the best solution, Stacey."
Eve leans back into her chair and with a snap of her finger calls back her minions.
"Now, Stacey, unless you are here to apologise, I think this is over. I have too many things to do right now to indulge in a proper interview or shoot a vignette for this week's match or whatever. Maybe for the PPV I can get you a much better interview."
Stacey, not impressed, gets up and leaves. Eve does not move from her position as she continues to undergo her makeover.
Mr. Jones: God damn son. Y'all just gonna let them punk you out like that?
The scene opens to Mr. Jones and Tyrone walking through the backstage area, a pissed off look on the champions face as he carries the title over his shoulder. Mr. Jones idly puffs on a cigar as the two pass by the Meltdown General Manager Becky Serra. Becky coughs as she gets surrounded by cigar smoke, Mr. Jones laughing quietly to himself.
Becky: Jones you can't smoke in here.
Mr. Jones: Sue me.
Becky stops and turns towards Tyrone and Jones, tapping her foot with her hands on her hips as she stares the two down. Tyrone could feel the hole forming in the back of his head as he stops and sighs shaking his head. He turns on his feels and crosses his arms as he looks towards Becky.
Tyrone: Ight Becky. I'll tell him to keep it in the locker room next time. Look, I'm tired of this bullshit they pulling on me attacking me from behind. I want Flex and Eve next week. Front and center and fighting me like a god damn warrior should.
Becky: A triple threat? And you will absolutely not smoke in the locker room. You hear me Jones?
Tyrone: Nah not a triple threat. Tag team shit. I know the moment they gotta sit in the same room together they're gonna rip each other's throats out.
Becky: Not a bad idea Blades. I'll forgive Jones for smoking back here for giving me the rights to the World Champion next week.
Tyrone: I mean, it ain't like I ain't ever run this shit before. I know what they all like.
Becky: So question is, who do you want for your partner? Titus?
Tyrone: Nah, Titus is doing his own thing, we both made that very clear. Vega's the dude I want on my side next week.
Becky: That...that wasn't the name I was expecting from you. But alright, it's your call.
Tyrone: Flex and Eve are so fucking entitled thinking their shit don't stank. I want to remind them punk motherfuckers what it's like to be hungry. Vega's got that look in his eyes. He wants to reach that next level, ain't no better way then be the fucking wild card in a match.
Becky: Your call Tyrone, but I like your thinking. I'll leave it to you let him know.
Tyrone: Ight cool, we finna go take care of that real quick.
Tyrone and Jones turn back around, Jones laughing that he's getting away with his cigar as he puffs on it some more as Tyrone brushes his hair back. Suddenly Becky reaches out and grabs Tyrone's arm. Tyrone turns his head and looks over his shoulder, a curious look on his face.
Tyrone: Y'all need something else Becks?
Becky: Well....I was just wondering. Maybe you and I have a private business meeting one of these nights? Go over some promotional stuff, and other....interests. Since Batti left you should have more time for this right?
Tyrone casts his eyes down, as if considering her proposal before he looks over at Jones, a sly smirk forming on his face as he begins laughing loudly.
Tyrone: Appreciate the offer Becks, but I ain't finna follow in the footsteps of your ex. And Batti's on vaca, she ain't gone for good. Catch y'all next week Becky. Don't go away angry, y'all took your shot at it.
Tyrone and Jones walk down the hallway, a scorned Becky looking on in the distance. They soon turn the corner and Tyrone slams his fist into the door, pushing it open as he walks in to the men's locker room. A few wrestlers are packing their gear up still as Tyrone nods towards them all, some return the gesture, while others glare at the champion. Tyrone looks around before spotting Vega in the corner, sitting on the bench with his bag in front of him. Tyrone grins as he walks over to him, taking a chair and spinning it backwards before sitting down, resting his arms on the top of it.
Vega: Now what?
Tyrone: Came looking for ya homie. I can tell you're as pissed as I am. Didn't give our match any fucking time tonight.
Vega: Time? No, I don't really care about the time. It's a precious commodity, as they say. See, I'm sittin' here wondering more about my punches... my kicks... my knees... nothing seemed to hurt you in the end.
Tyrone: Oh they hurt like a motherfucker Vega, I was just showing off for the crowd a bit. Hey look man, next time I'll get us that main event spot so we get all night if we need it. But I came lookin' for y'all for another reason. I got a tag match against Eve and Flex next week. I need a partner.
Vega: So you're reuniting with Titus?
Tyrone: You know you make one stable with a guy and suddenly you're stuck teaming up with them constantly. Nah man, I want y'all as my tag team partner.
Vega: ...me? Why me?
Mr. Jones: See we starting this new charity thing for those that are on the wrong side of the card...
Tyrone: Shut the fuck up Jones.
Vega looks towards Jones with distaste.
Vega: I'd listen to the man.
Jones just shrugs and laughs as Tyrone stares at him over his shoulder before shaking his head again and turning back towards Vega.
Tyrone: Truth is Vega, I can tell y'all are hungry to get to the top level. I said it before Meltdown too that you and I are a lot alike, got into some shit, trying to make the right changes, and be a better man. I ain't gonna act like I know your personal life or any of that shit. I do know we walk a similar path in life. Just here to offer a helping hand brotha. I mean hell, I helped Jones out and he's actually got a job now. I mean, he doesn't gotta do much but it's a job.
Mr. Jones: Hey whoa there motherfucker. I make sure we got our flights book on the regular.
Tyrone: Yeah and I could use Expedia for that shit Jones.
Mr. Jones: Man fuck you. What about driving the car?
Tyrone: Y'all ever heard of Lyft?
Mr. Jones: Fine who counts the money at the end of the night?
Tyrone: Uh...I do?
Mr. Jones: Shit....well what do you pay me for?
Tyrone: For you to stand there and look pretty Jones.
Vega watches the two go back and forth, simply shaking his head as he tosses the rest of his gear into his bag and zips it up.
Vega: Forgive me for interrupting, gentleman... but I hear what you're saying Blades. I appreciate the sentiment, but charity is wasted on me.
Tyrone: Hey hold up Vega. I ain't tryin to make it sound like that. I've watched you from when you started in this company. Every match. Every weapon used, every kick, y'all name it, I seen it. I know what you can do in that ring, you're damn good and tonight justified my impressions. You're a wild card and if you want to get better, to reach that next level, y'all gotta stand up and find someone to make your name off of. I mean hell, everyone round here's been trying to do that off my shoulders for years. Pick your spot, hit it as hard as you can, y'all are gonna leapfrog a lot of mofucka's that lost that drive a long time ago. Next week, help me take Flex and Eve and kick their fucking teeth in, knock em down a few pegs, hit a bar up, a drink for you, a water for me. Ain't nothing else to it homie. What y'all say to that?
Tyrone stands up and holds his hand out to Vega who stares down at his bag for a few moments before standing up and shaking Tyrone's hand.
Vega: You and me vs Flex & Eve? I'm in, and if by the end of the night I don't regret this decision... then maybe we'll talk about that drink... and water. Just don't expect me to wear a bandana.
Tyrone: I mean, it's a pretty sweet look.
Vega: That's all you.
Tyrone: Fine....how bout a baseball bat and a hoodie?
Vega: We'll see.
Tyrone: That's the spirit homie! Look we finna get out of here, I'll hit y'all up later.
The two nod as Tyrone slaps him on the shoulder as the scene slowly fades out. It soon returns outside of the prominent gym on the corner in Denver, owned none other than the overly muscular Flex Mussel. Tyrone and Jones walk up to the gym, looking up at it while Tyrone shrugs his bag off his shoulder, a smirk on his face.
Tyrone: The world famous Flexamerica Gyms. Think that's what these are called. Looks like a Ponzi Scheme in a brick building if you ask me.
Mr. Jones: So why we here again?
Tyrone: Why to work out of course Jones. I heard the trainers here are fantastic, can hit just the right amount of medicine in the syringe, a steady hand and the proper placement all in one fantastic package.
Mr. Jones: I dunno man, sounds like a bunch of bullshit to me. What happened to picking up rocks, carrying them and tossing them around?
Tyrone: Not all of us had to suck up to the warden to get on the cozy chain gang Jones.
Mr. Jones: Motherfucker, I was not on the chain gang. I was running shit in prison.
Tyrone: Uh huh, and who was your sugar daddy that filled your commissary on the weekly?
Mr. Jones: Don't know what the fuck you talkin' bout Blades.
Tyrone: Sure as shit wasn't your hustling skills, that much I can tell you. Ight let's get this over with. Let's see what's so go damn special about this place.
Jones and Tyrone push the doors to the gym open, bright lights quickly casting down around them as they see a lot of normal people working hard, some beefed up looking assholes, and of course Jones' favorite thing to see...
Mr. Jones: Ohhhh SHIT. Blades you seeing the girls they got up in here?
Tyrone: Keep your eyeballs in your sockets Jones or I'll just use them for dice later.
Mr. Jones: Jokes on you mofucka, you'll just get snake eyes every time.
Tyrone: And thus, Jones continues to show his obliviousness to the game of craps. This shit is too sterile. Not a fucking speck of dust on any of this equipment. It's missing that worn in feeling.
Mr. Jones: Yeah you would be the motherfucker to complain about the heavy bags not being taped up.
Tyrone: Whatever man let me go pay these fees real quick. Unless y'all got some cash from that commissary you ain't given back to me.
Jones shrugs as he turns and walks away, making a beeline towards the female yoga group. Tyrone walks up to the front desk, sliding his bag off his shoulder again as a rather upbeat....too upbeat receptionist greets him.
Receptionist: Welcome! Is this your first time here at Flexamerica?
Tyrone: Uh...yeah. How much is it for just a day pass or whatever?
Receptionist: Well a day pass is thirty five dollars a person.
Tyrone: Out of yo damn mind...hey the hell is that up there?
Tyrone looks up as he sees a board running across the wall over the receptionist area. Numerous categories can be seen such as push ups, sit ups, pull ups, one hundred dash, etc. At the top of every category is the name Flex Mussel, his numbers by far greater than even the second place finishers in each category.
Receptionist: Oh that's our hall of fame board. For each exercise we keep track of the greatest performances. As you can see our esteemed owner Flex Mussel is the leader in every category.
Tyrone: Well ain't that some shit. So...you're telling me anyone can get up on that board.
Receptionist: As long as they have a witness and documentation while they're in the gym. Would you like to give it a go to place in the top ten.
Tyrone suddenly grins like a madman as he glances over each category.
Tyrone: Oh fo' sho'. Hey yo Jones! Get yo ass over here I need a witness.
Jones looks over from the yoga area, his one eye dropping a bit as he sighs, excusing himself from the girls he was chatting up as he walks over to Tyrone.
Mr. Jones: Now you know I ain't no snitch mo'fucka.
Tyrone: No not that type of witness, you ain't credible like that lawyer that got the book thrown at him yesterday. Look, I'm just gonna do some exercises, you count, and we put my name at the top up there. Simple as that.
Mr. Jones: Why the fuck you would you want your name on that lis.....OH I feel you homie. Let's do this.
Tyrone: Hit the music Jones.
Jones grabs a bluetooth speaker out of his bag and turns it on, pulling his phone out and looking through his music.
Tyrone stops mid stride as he walks over to the one hundred meter dash area, turning his head over his shoulder, staring a hole through Jones.
Tyrone: Are you serious with this Jones?
Mr. Jones: What? I thought it was a classic touch to the montage.
Tyrone sighs as he grabs Jones' phone from him and quickly switches the music.
Tyrone slaps the phone back into Jones' chest and takes his spot on the track. He takes a stance as Jones starts the stopwatch app on his phone.
Mr. Jones: And go mofucka!
Tyrone takes off like a bat out of hell, blazing down the track. He crosses the hundred meter mark and Jones stops the stopwatch, looking down at it, his eyes wide.
Mr. Jones: Damn homie, 10.25. Y'all ain't that far off from Olympic level motherfuckers.
Tyrone: Yeah and that's a full second faster than Flex's supposed time. Hey yo receptionist girl.
The receptionist looks over as Tyrone and Jones walk up to her.
Tyrone: My boy Jones here clocked me at 10.25 on the hundred. Punked your owner Mussel out like no other. Let's get my name up there ight?
Receptionist: Oh dear I've never seen someone best Mr. Mussel's time. Just fill this paperwork out quick and we'll get your name up there.
Tyrone: Jones fill that shit out. I got a workout to complete.
Tyrone grins as he snags a water bottle off the counter while the receptionist isn't looking and the actual montage is on as we see scenes of Tyrone going through various exercises, first pushups, then sit ups, then pull ups, more running, and with each exercise Jones seems to have more paperwork to juggle as Tyrone doesn't seem to be breaking a sweat. It cuts over to the receptionist climbing a ladder and replacing Flex's name with Tyrone's with each one. After showing Tyrone using the squat rack, he clangs the bar down and brushes his hands, taking a deep breath as a crowed has gathered around them as well.
Tyrone: Shit how many records have I got now Jones?
Mr. Jones: Uh looking like y'all got all of the running ones, all of your basic ones, and now heaviest squat. But why y'all ain't going after the lifting shit homie?
Tyrone: Saving the best for last Jones. 225 bench presses. What's his record on that?
Mr. Jones: Uh shows here he's got 57.
Tyrone: That it? Not a fucking problem. Hey, y'all wanna see Flex's record broke today?
The crowd cheers, though the trainers throughout the room seem to be disgruntled by their clients ignoring them for the show Tyrone is putting on. Tyrone walks over and sets up the bar before laying down flat on the bench. He lifts it up as Jones spots him.
Mr. Jones: 1...2...3......4......5.......6.....
Jones counts along as Tyrone pumps out reps with little resistant through the first twenty or so. He slows down a bit but falls into a steady pace as a buzz begins to go through the crowd as he passes thirty.
Mr. Jones: Let's go mo'fucka y'all are over halfway there.
Tyrone's eyes squint as he focuses, his arms starting to burn from the reps as he closes in on forty. Sweat drips from his forehead down to the ground as he grips tightly around the bar.
Mr. Jones: Come on Blades! Pick up the pace homie! 48. Finish it!
Tyrone's face goes red as he tries to push through the pain. The speed of his reps slowing dramatically as he nears the record. The crowd cheers loudly as he passes 50, then 51, 52, 53.
Tyrone pushes the bar up and slams it into the resting arms, his own falling down towards him as he breathes heavily.
Tyrone: Jones! I got it right?
Jones looks down at Tyrone, a disappointed look on his face.
Jones: Nah homie, y'all got to 55.
Tyrone: Shit. Well can't win them all I guess.
Tyrone slowly sits up as he takes a drink of water, Jones taking the results over to the receptionist as a few of the muscle bound dudes around the gym chat up Tyrone about his performance. He slaps hands with a few of them before making his way back over to where the board is at.
Receptionist: Well you didn't beat Mr. Mussel at one of his most impressive feats, not that I would have expected you to, but we do get to put your name up on the board.
Tyrone: Y'all been running up there all day for me, why don't you let me take care of that miss.
Receptionist: Oh well thank you, here's the name tag, go ahead and move the other ones down and slot yours into second place.
Tyrone takes the name tag and climbs up the ladder, doing as instructed and sliding the others down. He looks over at Jones and gives him a mischievous grin as he points towards his gym bag. Jones looks at him oddly for a moment before it clicks in his head as he returns the smirk. He grabs the bag and tosses it up to Tyrone who quickly withdraws a spray paint can from it. He quickly sprays his unique tag right along the second place section.....and not really trying to not paint over Flex's name. Finally he finishes it up with the Hollow Ones symbol all around it and covering Flex's name completely. Tyrone quickly tosses places the can in his bag and tosses it back to Jones, the receptionist none the wiser. Tyrone gets back down and brushes his hair back as he looks towards Jones.
Tyrone: Ayo Jones let's dip out man. Think we got what we needed from here. Oh hey miss, was Mr. Mussel supposed to be stopping in later?
Receptionist: Oh of course. He's in town for business with WZCW this week. I'm sure he'd be honored to meet the man who broke his records.
Jones can hardly contain his laughter as Tyrone smiles as earnestly as he can before picking up another water bottle and a towel from the counter.
Tyrone: Nah that's ight girl. I'll catch up with him some other time. I'm sure he'll be pleased to know how great his gym is doing helping create another freak athlete like himself. Thanks for everything.
Jones and Tyrone turn and make their way towards the exit as the receptionist turns back to her computer before suddenly realizing something.
Receptionist: Wait! You two forgot to pay!
Tyrone laughs as the door swings behind him, his arms behind his head as they make their way back to the outside. He unzips his bag once more and withdraws the WZCW World Heavyweight Championship.
Tyrone: And this is about as fucking close as you're gonna get to having this title anywhere near your trashy ass gyms Flex. Hope your members enjoy looking up to the real athlete and not the balloon shape jackass you are. See you and Eve at Meltdown, you two punk motherfuckers ain't gonna be blindsiding me this time. Let's roll Jones, I'm meeting up with Vega in a minute.
Tyrone tosses the water bottle on the ground and stomps on it, and soon wipes his shoes off with the towel before discarding it. The two hop into the Escalade and drive off as the scene fades away.
Posting for Infinity as he's stuck at work:
"...aint somethin’ I’m proud of, just a necessary evil of survival sometimes. You’re all about that, aint you?" -Tyrone Blades
July 25th, 2018...
We start exactly where we ended last time, with Vega standing near the entrance of his penthouse apartment bewildered as he stares at Alexis donned in complete tactical gear and a small Kevlar backpack. He is able to relax just the slightest bit now that Alexis has lowered her weapon.
Vega looks around his apartment, the very apartment Alexis is currently breaking into and trespassing in.
This is how you initiate a conversation?
Alexis shrugs innocently, attempting to break the tension by playing coy.
You know me, always one for the flare. I did get your attention before Kingdom Come with a note attached to an arrow I shot at your window from the building across the street.
A note asking to meet at the World Trade Center. This is different. You’re violating my privacy.
Since when did we respect other people’s privacy?
I’m not other people.
The stern tone Vega uses to deliver his latest point creates a not in Alexis throat. One she tries to nervously swallow, but before she can offer a reply, Vega continues his assessment of the situation.
Vega motions with his face towards the weapon in Alexis’ hand.
You need a gun… to talk?
You’re standing in my living room, dressed in tactical gear and holding a gun… but you wanna talk?
Just let me explain.
Vega scoffs subtly while looking away. Looking into Alexis eyes brings a new discomfort he hasn’t felt form her before. She reaches for her backpack, but Vega casually begins walking away from her and towards his couch.
What are you doing?
Vega responds while never turning back towards her, raising his voice so she can hear him across the distance he’s created.
If you’re gonna shoot me, then shoot me.
I’m not gonna shoot you with your back turned.
Vega stops in his tracks. His eyes narrow. Anger quickly envelops his face before he turns back to face Alexis once again.
I’m facing forward now.
Alexis shakes her head, regretting her poor choice of words.
No. I mean I’m not going to shoot you at all.
She holsters her weapon and raises her hands in an attempt to de-escalate the situation. Vega shakes his head, seemingly disappointed in Alexis.
What is all this, kiddo?
Alexis is taken back by Vega’s use of the nickname.
You haven’t called me that in years.
I haven’t seen you in years.
I’d always say, “I’m not a kid!” but it never mattered.
It always seemed to annoy you.
Alexis is able to smile, albeit for the briefest of moments.
Is that why you left?
She laughs to hide the sadness the question brings.
No, that’s not why. I-… I just had to leave. I had to separate myself from everything I cared about in my life. It was for your own good, Will.
Vega sits down on his couch, continuing to look towards Alexis, but it’s as if he’s looking for something he can’t find.
For my own good…
He shakes his head, still confused.
So, the arrow lodged in my window? The midnight meeting on the roof of One World Trade? And now this time in my own home with you pointing a gun to my head. Is this all for my own good, too?
Alexis looks around the apartment as she mentally explores every corner of her mind trying to find the correct combination of words to convince Vega of her intentions. She looks down, shaking her head understanding the optics of her recent behavior.
Everything I have done and everything I do involving you has always been with the best intentions.
Slowly, she walks over towards Vega. She takes her backpack off and places it down before sitting on the couch next to him. Both look towards the ground. Both are finding it difficult to maintain eye contact at the moment.
Best intentions? And what exactly are your best intentions, Alexis?
She breaks her concentration from the ground and looks over towards Vega. He, however, continues looking towards his over-priced carpet instead of his former partner in crime.
To keep you alive, Will.
Finally, Vega looks towards Alexis.
This whole thing, Will… you and me, living life off the grid and on the run… it was all because you refused to complete your mission. It was all because you refused to kill me. You sacrificed your life and your freedom to keep me alive, and you did it without ever asking me for anything in return. They were after me, Will… not you. Agent Fields may have stopped chasing you for the past 5 years, but I’ve been spending every day still on the run… just like you and I used to. I just do it alone now.
I never wanted you to run alone, Alexis.
I know, but sometimes you have to run alone, Will.
Vega looks away for a moment while shaking his head, unhappy with the answer, but accepting it regardless.
And now? Is this you running alone?
No. This is me running back.
I ran away to protect you. But things have changed.
What has changed?
I have reason to believe that Agent Fields has made you a target once again.
Alexis reaches down and grabs her Kevlar backpack. She opens it up and pulls out a handful of tiny electrical devices.
This is why I broke into your penthouse. Electronic surveillance transmitters. I found them all over your place, Will. The Agency has been bugging your apartment.
Vega stares at the devices in Alexis’ hand with bewilderment. She motions them closer to him for further examination.
Here, take them. You can analyze them later and see for yourself. You’ll be ale to trace the signals yourself.
Vega slowly grabs the devices from Alexis’ hand and looks at them, uncertain of what to think.
Why would the Agency do this?
Fields has been chasing me for years with nothing to show for it. He knew the one way to get me to come out of hiding was if I knew you were in danger… so that’s what Fields is going to do. He’s going to put you in danger, Will. I know it. I can’t let that happen. Whatever he tells you is a lie.
Vega closes his fist, squeezing the electronic devices in his hand. Alexis grabs her backpack and gets up off the couch.
Agent Fields is not to be trusted.
She removes her weapon, holster and all, from her side and places it inside the Kevlar backpack. She then slings it over her shoulders before making her way towards the door.
Be careful, William.
Those words strike a familiar chord with Vega. It was just a mere hours ago that he was hearing the same exact advice from Agent Fields about Alexis. His mind is too busy trying to decipher the situation to verbalize a reply. Alexis reaches for the door, but pauses. She turns back towards Vega with a hopeful look in her eyes.
I was only pretending to be annoyed.
The seemingly random statement jars Vega out of his moment of unclarity. He looks over towards Alexis with an inquisitive look on his face.
What are you talking about?
When you’d call me "kiddo"… You said I always looked annoyed when you’d call me that.
She looks off in the distance as if she were trying to see the distant memories of happier times.
I was only pretending to be annoyed.
A reminiscent smile appears on Alexis’ face as she looks back towards Vega.
I always liked that nickname.
Vega smiles back.
Good to know... kiddo.
The two stare into each other’s eyes, still smiling, both wanting to believe that the other is being genuine. Alexis opens the door and exits the penthouse. She closes the door behind her, leaving Vega alone in his home to try and make sense of the situation.
Lincoln’s Road House
The weathered awning had seen better days, but Vega stood there standing wearing a black V-neck with black denim and black boots. Continuing his “all black everything” look, his eyes remain hidden behind black Ray Ban sunglasses, but they remain fixated on the bar sign on this sunny day. He canvases the front, slowly lowering his glasses to get an unshaded look at the array of motorcycles lining the establishment’s parking area. One after the other he surveys American bike after bike, somewhat impressed, but at the same time uninterested in the machines.
Vega reaches into his pocket and pulls out his iPhone to check something. He looks back towards the awning, and then the bikes, and then his phone once again before putting it back in his pocket.
Well, this is definitely the place.
After talking to himself out loud, almost as if trying to motivate himself to move, Vega walks passed the motorcycles and towards the door. It creaks as he opens it. The door hits a brass bell located near the top corner as he walk in, letting the entire establishment know someone has arrived. Regardless, the sound doesn’t garner much attention from the patrons in the bar. They all continue upon their business, enjoying their drinks and the company of their fellow leather clad motorcycle enthusiast brethren. Vega seems to be the only person in the bar not wearing a leather motorcycle vest, a detail that doesn’t go unnoticed. Undeterred, Vega continues into the bar looking around for someone specific.
A voice that is quickly becoming familiar to Vega pierces through the crowd noise. There at the bar sits the WZCW World Champion, Tyrone Blades, wearing faded blue denim jeans, worn in biker boots, and a black leather biker vest over his white shirt. His black bandana keeps his long hair neatly pulled back as he rests his sunglasses on his forehead. Blades is lifting a glass in the air while seated at the stool, motioning towards Vega with a welcoming gesture. Vega subtly acknowledges Tyrone and slowly makes his way over to him.
Aw shit, there he is!
Tyrone motions with his hand towards the empty bar stool next to him.
Take a seat, man. I'm glad you decided to come.
Vega looks around the bar while obliging Tyrone and sitting down next to him. Although Vega doesn’t seem too phased by the setting, it’s easy to tell he’s a little out of his element.
I know this probably aint the type place you normally find yourself in… person like you gotta be into the high class kinda shit, right? I aint mad at it, man. But this?
Tyrone surveys the area with Vega, donning a proud smile in the process.
This is my kinda place, you feel me?
This’ll do just fine.
With a simple nod of the head, Tyrone calls the burly bartender with a handlebar mustache over.
‘nother water, Ty?
Yeah man, and a…
Blades looks over towards Vega, giving him the floor to order.
What kinda bourbon ya got?
Beam and Crow.
The short and blunt list brings a half smile to Vega’s face.
Old Crow, it is. Neat.
As the bartender serves up the drink, Tyrone looks over towards Vega somewhat taken back by his order.
Didn’t peg you for a bourbon guy… sure as hell not a Crow guy.
Vega lifts the glass up and studies his drink.
I’m normally a Scotch guy…
He looks around the rugged biker bar before motioning his cup towards Tyrone politely.
…but, when in Rome…
Blades lifts his water and touches glasses with Vega before the two both take a sip of their drinks.
You know, I told you we could have a drink if we won our match on Meltdown this weekend. So, when you invited me to some biker bar just minutes away from the Pepsi Center before our match, I was a little confused.
True, I did mention a post-match celebratory drink, but I been doin’ a lotta thinkin’ since Meltdown in Cleveland. There’s somethin’ about you, man. I ain’t sure what it is yet, exactly… but there’s somethin’. You remind me of myself in a lotta ways, ya’ know? I think that’s why I reached out to you, asked you to roll with me against Flex and Eve this week.
You see yourself in me. That’s what this is?
That’s what I’m sayin’.
Vega removes his Ray Bans and hangs them from his V-Neck collar. He looks away from Ty and towards his drink with skepticism oozing from his eyes.
On some level, I take this as a compliment.
It’s all respect, brotha.
But, on another level… I find it a bit insulting.
Look man, I told ya in the locker room at the end of the night last time… this aint no charity shit, man.
It’s not about charity. I’m just seeing the dots, Tyrone, and doing my best to connect them. See, your girl Batti leaves you-
That’s just temporary, man.
And Jones is as incapable as they come.
He means well, though.
So, your first night as champion again, back in your hometown… and the night ends with Eve Taylor cracking you in the back of the head while you were staring down Flex Mussel, your next challenger. Sounds like you have your hands full, and with nobody to watch your back. You and Titus are no longer on the same page, so you start searching for somebody capable. Enter, Vega.
It aint like that man. This aint about you watchin’ my back, homie.
Then what’s it about?
It’s about you standing by my side. Next to me, brotha. Not behind me. Looking across the ring at Flex and Eve… the two baddest mo’fuckas in the game today. I know what it takes to stand across from people like them and not blink. It takes somethin’ wicked in your eyes to be able to do that. Yeah, last Meltdown I had my eyes on Flex and Eve took me out. Moments before that I wasn’t standing in the ring across from Flex or from Eve… but I still saw that wicked look necessary to survive the deepest waters of WZCW. I saw that look in you, Vega.
Vega stifles a laugh as if Blades’ words were a punchline to a bad joke.
I get it. You think this could be an honor amongst thieves kind of thing?
Kinda, yeah. Now look, I aint finna sit here and say we both cut from the same cloth. All I’ve done is posted on corners sellin’ whatever it took make ends meet, nah mean? At times I had to stand my ground against rivals tryin’ to take over my territory. I aint a stranger to lettin’ the bullets fly… aint somethin’ I’m proud of, just a necessary evil of survival sometimes. You’re all about that, aint you?
Is that what I am, then? A necessary evil?
Nah, homie. We are necessary evils. And right now, we both might be necessary for the other to survive.
You think being a street thug makes you comparable to me?
I don’t know if I’d-
You think turf wars and motorcycle gangs even make a blip on my radar?
Vega scoffs at the notion before taking another sip of his bourbon.
Look, homie… I get it. I aint on your level, not in the world of the criminal underground at least. I even tried being a burglar once. You’re out there stealin’ from museums and government buildings… meanwhile I can’t even ransack an abandoned house without havin’ one of my day one homies bite the dust. That miserable failure ended up changing my entire life. It’s what started this crazy ass chain reaction that led me to where I am now.
Well, you’re the champ… so I guess it all worked out in the end.
Life is ight, sure… but that don’t mean I enjoyed every mile of the road. Last Meltdown, that was a bumpy road.
It’s about to get a lot bumpier.
You know all about bumpy roads, don’t you?
Vega realizes he doesn’t need to answer the obvious question.
That’s something else I see in your eyes, brotha. There’s a struggle going on behind them eyes, man. The struggle of a man trying to find his own light in a world of darkness. A struggle he aint sure he can win.
Vega reaches into his pants pocket and pulls out a pack of Camel Menthol No. 9 cigarettes. He holds one between his lips, but before he can pull a lighter out of his other pocket, Ty has already flipped open a metal lighter and flicked a flame. Vega leans the cigarette into the fire before Blades flings the lighter shut.
Those’ll kill ya, y’know.
So I’ve heard.
The drinkin’, the smokin’, the drugs… those were all struggles for me too.
Vega looks over to Tyrone’s glass of water.
Not anymore, it seems.
Blades holds up his glass of water before setting it down and lighting up a cigarette of his own.
Trust me, homie… it’s still a struggle. Can't help but have one vice in my life at least. Aint nothin’ I’d like more sometimes than throwback a cold one and wash away the nerves, ya know? But that just aint me no more. To each his own though, brotha. Do you, y’know?
For a second there I thought you were gonna give me a speech about sobriety.
I mean, it wouldn’t hurt… but I aint ya daddy, Vega.
Vega chuckles at the comment but looks over towards Tyrone’s glass of water with hesitation.
You know, last month someone re-entered my life who also quit drinking.
I never liked him.
He once told me “Never trust someone who doesn’t drink.”
He’s like you… living sober… trying to recruit me. Sometimes it feels like the faster I run away from my past, the faster my past chases me down.
Well you and me? We aint never had no past… not together at least.
I’m starting to think that’s a good thing.
Me too, homie. Me too. But, are you ready for our immediate future?
You mean Meltdown?
Hell yeah I mean Meltdown. You and me versus Flex and Eve. I know you may not personally have any beef with them, but-
That won’t matter. I used to live every day eliminating people I had no prior history with. People whom I wanted nothing from. That’s not the case this time.
Whatch y'all mean?
Meaning Flex and Eve have something I want. They have the recognition, they have the position, they have the spotlight. Shit, if I’m being honest-
-you have something I want. Everyone I’ll be in the ring with come this weekend has something I want, dammit. Last Meltdown, I was a God damn afterthought… and a big reason why that happened was because of you. Now here we are in this tag team match… the World Champ, the former champ, and the number 1 contender. Suddenly it seems like Vega becomes another afterthought once again… right?
Blades knows not to answer the rhetorical question. Instead he watches somewhat encouraged by the bass in Vega’s voice while his partner for Meltdown angrily inhales on his cigarette. Vega immediately takes another sip of his Old Crow before exhaling the smoke into the air.
Fuck that. Meltdown, your hometown of Cleveland? That was the first and the last time Vega will have ever been considered an “afterthought” in this company.
Vega looks over towards Tyrone, who is still enjoying seeing his emboldened partner take a stand.
You might be right. Maybe to get to where I want to be in this company, I need to do it next to someone like you. Fuck it.
Vega downs the rest of his bourbon down like a shot and grimaces while slamming the glass back down on the table.
Necessary evils, right? Maybe that’s what we are to each other. I don’t know if I trust you, Tyrone… but I can’t fight the feeling that for some reason, right now… I need you. And maybe, just maybe… you need me. Maybe we’re both hollow… who knows?
Vega takes another hit of his Camel as he gets up off his seat. He holds the cigarette with his lips while grabbing his sunglasses from his V-neck collar. He speaks with the cigarette still in his mouth as Tyrone takes a long drag off his cigarette.
Meltdown 153… we take out Flex Mussel and Eve Taylor.
Vega places the shades over his eyes before grabbing the cigarette from his lips and throwing it down to the bar room floor. He steps on it while exhaling smoke into the air. He holds his hand in the shape of a gun and points it at Tyrone while donning a sinister smile across his face.
Tyrone Blades sits there staring into the shaded eyes of his future partner, unsure of how to react. Just then, Vega changes the shape of his hand from a gun to an open palm.
A similar smile begins creeping across the champion’s face as he gets up from his stool as well. He reaches out with his own hand and accepts Vega’s gesture and the two shake hands confidently.
The Hollowed Ones.
Vega simply nods his head. Soon, Blades does the same as the two seem to be on the same wavelength, if only for moment. Vega throws some cash down on the bar before turning around and heading towards the door. He opens it, causing the brass bell to start ringing again. Vega looks at it briefly, then back towards Tyrone one last time before exiting the biker bar. Tyrone Blades sits back down at the bar and looks over towards the cash. He notices Vega left a hundred dollar bill, and chuckles to himself as the scene comes to an end.