Post by livewire on Jul 9, 2014 10:30:18 GMT -5
**************************
SLAM! 7-6-14
Anthony Douglas measures Gerik. He throws him into the ropes, and as Gerik comes back....
Zach Davis
HIGH HEAT! HE HITS IT!
Gerik hits the mat. Douglas goes for the pin!
ONE!
TWO!
NO!, Livewire is back and breaks it up! Livewire throws Douglas out of the ring before waiting as Gerik climbs to his feet.
Erin Robbins
HIGH VOLTAGE! HE HITS THE 540 TORNADO KICK!
Livewire drops and pins him.
ONE.
…
TWO.
…
THREE.
Zach Davis
THERE IT IS! LIVEWIRE WINS!
**************************
The bell sounds as Livewire's music plays. Gray Pierce accepts the cheers of the crowd whose respect he certainly hasn’t fully earned just yet, but he is on the right track to doing just that. He gets to the backstage area where his father is there to greet him with a loving hug.
“Atta, boy! You showed them what a Pierce can do out there today. I’m proud of you, son.”
Gray wasn’t sure the reaction that Damien was trying to elicit. He was being way over affectionate for Grays liking, but he decided not to think anything of it and ride this high that he hasn’t felt since he stopped abusing drugs 4 years ago.
“Thanks pops.”
Katrina Ruiz runs over and gives Gray a long hug that lingers just long enough. She lets go but he doesn’t as the two stare into each other’s bright eyes for a moment. He lets her go with an appreciative nod as he makes his way back to his locker room. Damien and Katrina follow suit.
Just as he prefers, his locker room is equipped with a futon, but other than that, it has limited accommodations. He has no need for fancy equipment just a bed to rest on and a sink to wash up in, no need even for a full shower. Gray sits on the futon, but gets up immediately and starts doing push-ups. The adrenaline rush from that match is still coursing through his veins; he can’t stop moving, not even for a second. He wants to get out there and do it again.
It took Gray a moment to realize that Katrina was standing over him with an envelope in her hand. The WCF didn’t waste any time. He leaped up and grabbed it out of her hand. He ripped open the envelope and read the amount on the check that was presented to him. He was pleased, but not as much as he hoped. He smiled and handed the whole check to Katrina.
“This doesn’t make up for the whole 2 months but it’s a start. I really appreciate all of your work.”
She looked at the check, and the smile couldn’t be hidden. Gray continued.
“As long as the checks keep coming like this you’ll be paid off and up to date in no time. Then I can start upgrading my own life. I’ve won my first match here in the WCF, and it feels great. But I’m not going to stop there. The sky’s the limit for me mon cheri, and with you at my side there’s nothing I can’t accomplish.”
He meant this as a compliment to her work but it was clear by the flushness in her face that she took it to mean more. Gray didn’t correct himself. He instead instructed her to get the car ready and got himself ready to go home. Only after the last match of Slam, and the last person of interest left the arena did Gray depart.
**************************
The next day he got to his house in Centereach, Long Island, and the same house that he grew up in and waiting for him was none-other than his Uncle Egg. His name was Dante, and he was his father’s fraternal twin brother. The differences between the two were laughable.
His father Damien was a 6’5” 275 pound monster in his prime. Even now, at 70, he stands tall and still weighs a solid 240 lbs of pure muscle. Egg, on the other hand was given the appropriate nickname due to the perfect oval shape of his body. Standing at 5’5” and weighing 240 lbs, in his own right, he is not what you would call a traditionally handsome man. He is balding and doesn’t wear his age well. But to his credit was quite the accomplished amateur wrestler in his day. His knowledge in classic Grecco-Roman wrestling is a tool that Gray still uses to this day.
The hug received around the naval from his Uncle was much more appreciated that the one the prior night from his father. Egg didn’t bother to congratulate Gray as he knew that he didn’t want look for praise and approval. 15 years of helping the boy grow into a man helped Egg learn this, a thread of knowledge that only someone there from the beginning could attain.
Instead Egg offered up a cup of coffee, black, that Gray gladly accepted. The men sat down and discussed the past two weeks. Gray told him about the appearance at Blast which was relatively well received for a man who was an unknown, and the pop he got when he pinned Gerik at Slam was the exhilaration that he was looking for when he got into the business.
“There’s something about the fans at WCF, Egg.”
Gray started.
“They bring this energy that I’ve never felt before. It’s weird, as many fans as there are for ‘the good guys,’ or whatever there are an equal number of fans for the bad guys. I mean, none of us were getting much of a pop, but when I hit a move the cheers were equal to those as when Douglas would hit a move on me. I mean the two of us couldn’t be on farther points of the morality spectrum, but the fans didn’t care, they just wanted to see an all-out battle and that’s what they got. They wanted to see the rookies in the WCF put on a show, and that we did for sure. And when I saw Douglas about to pick up that pin, I don’t know, instinct took over and I kicked that egotistical megalomaniac right in the head and landed the tornado kick on Gerik for the victory…”
“Was it the 540?”
“Hell Yea, man. I nailed it. That extra twist really puts the momentum into the move that it was lacking in the Honorable Ring. If I hit this move not even Omega, and his ‘indeterminable will’ would be able to kick out. The best part about the move is that I can hit it so fast that my opponents won’t expect it. It’s all about the… hold on.”
Gray’s phone rings and he picks it up and walks towards the corner of the room.
“Hey Kat
…
Really?
...
Another one?
...
Well, yea, it’s just 2 other guys this time.
…
Thanks a lot, take the rest of the week off, I’ll see you Friday for travel.”
Gray walked back to his uncle to tell him the news.
“Jay Omega and Michael Easton in a Triple Threat Match. But the good news is that we’re 6th on the card. Good spot, no? Not curtain jerking, and we’re there to make sure that people stay to watch the main event. Yea, I know my spot; I’m not ashamed of it. I’ve got to earn my spot on top, and winning one match isn’t going to do that. I’m sure Jay Omega thinks that by taking out Price last week that he’s deserving of a higher spot in the card, but he opened up last week so he should just be happy to move onward and upward towards the top of the card.
Omega was impressive, I can’t deny that, but he’s got problems in the head. He can go on and on because he can’t feel the pain to stop; he’s using his medical condition to further his himself. He’s in the right field for it. It’s going to take more determination, and more willpower than someone who can’t feel feelings anymore to accomplish what I want to accomplish. It takes to knock the man out to beat him, and with my 540 Tornado Kick I can do just that.
As far as Easton: another nihilist? This guy thinks his shit smells like roses. He won last week as well in a triple threat match. Again, he was very impressive, but his opponents were not. It’s easy to look impressive compared to a couple of no talent losers. It’s like the normal looking girl standing next to a bunch of ugly girls to make herself look hotter. This week it’s gonna be more like the normal looking girl standing next to a mustang and a Ferrari to make herself look more important. Either way’s he’s average at best, and, though I will learn the ins and outs of his game to meticulously pick him apart piece by piece. He’s not as impressive as he thinks he is.
But we do have the winners of the rookies or relative rookies facing off against each other this week, it’s exciting; it’s fun; it’s what I live for. I guess management has a plan for whichever one of us is able to succeed in this winner’s bracket of sorts. ”
“Just do your best; do your best and no one can beat you, they may win the match but they can’t take away your spirit. But you can’t succeed completely without a good girl on your arm. How’s that Kat doing? She’s a keeper, boy.”
Egg always played the settling down card. It was the only thing that bothered him about his Uncle, and he assumed that he knew this and that’s why he continued doing so.
“Oh, stop it dad…uh… Egg…”
Gray paused at his slip, and it didn’t go unnoticed by Egg.
“You haven’t done that since you were just a boy.”
“Yea, my dad training me has brought back some unwanted feelings.”
“I’m his brother, and I wouldn’t trust him to watch my dead cat and keep him dead. But when it comes to professional wrestling the guy knows more than anyone I’ve ever met. Trust him when it comes to this. He has a lot to teach and you still have a lot to learn.”
Gray nodded, he knew this, but couldn’t help but smile.
“You forgot to say ‘young grashoppa!’”
The two men shared a laugh and finished their coffee.
**************************
Gray took the rest of the day off and enjoyed time with what remains of his family. He hit Gold’s Gym the next day, the same gym that Hardcore Legend Mick Foley works out at. He wasn’t there that day but his best friend, former lead guitarist, and personal trainer, Clifford James, was there. Cliff was a 6 foot 3 inch black man with diesel arms that he inked up himself. The most impressive part, to Gray at least, was his formidable goatee. It hung a good foot down and he kept it in a tight braid. When he worked out he had to tie it up as to not get stuck in any machines.
The guy could lift anything, and he could run forever, there wasn’t a better person to motivate Gray. Despite Cliff’s intimidating features, he was an artist. Since the band broke up he continued playing the guitar acoustically at local coffee houses, bars and restaurants, and started tattooing professionally. He also started working out like a muh (‘muh’ is short for mother fucker on Long Island.)He’s obsessed with the science behind it and has shown Gray how to build strength, build his physique and have extreme endurance. When he finished the workout the men got into 2000 Ford Taurus and handed him his specially made Protein Shake.
“It’s an almond butter and banana protein shake. Soy milk, Banana, and almond butter. Its bad ass tasting and super good for you.”
Gray tasted it and had to agree with the first part. He didn’t know enough about protein shakes to know if it was good for you, instinct said that if it tastes that good it can’t possibly be good for you but he trusted Cliff. He and Cliff had their drink, and still had about 10 minutes left before they got to Gray’s house.
“So what’s your plan for this week, brothaman?”
“Train, watch tapes, repeat. Then on Thursday I’ve got a house show in Philly, before making my way up to Maryland on Friday for the show Sunday.”
“You sound pretty organized.”
“Yea, it’s all Kat. She does all that planning. If it wasn’t for her I wouldn’t make it anywhere on time. You remember when Emily’s Prayer was active; thank god we hardly left New York.”
“Yea, I remember Kat. You hit that yet or what?”
“It’s not like that, man. I don’t mix business with pleasure. But you know there are plenty of other hotties with bodies that I can get.”
Truth was that since last week he hasn’t been much interested in finding the poon of the night like he used to be. It wasn’t just his father who had gotten into his head, or even Kat. It was the thrill of the fight. Wrestling had become a lifestyle more than a career. He dreamed of it, he couldn’t wait to get to the gym in the morning and work on his craft. The average man thinks about sex every 6 seconds… well Gray Pierce thinks about wrestling more often than that.
They pulled up to the old colonial that he grew up in with his late mother and older brother and sister. He gave his friend the secret E’SP handshake which they made up on the spot every time and he made his way to the door. He dropped his keys out of his pocket and bent to pick them up when the bullet hit the door above his head before the gunshot was even heard. He dove for cover and looked towards the street where a hideous black BMW is speeding down the small street and sharply turns around a corner and out of sight.
**************************
Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
“And the winner… The Livewire Grayson Pierce!”
The scantily clad ring announcer said as she gave Gray the eye which he noticed and appreciated. He grabbed a towel and a microphone, wiped the sweat off his head and chest and brought the microphone to his lips.
“Ladies and gentlemen of the WCF Universe, you have just witnessed another case of High Voltage up in this piece!”
The crowd cheered. He paced around the ring searching for the right words.
“This week at Slam I take on two of the top newcomers in the WCF. We rookies have certainly made a name for ourselves since starting, but the announcer’s said it best at my match, we may be rookies in the WCF but we aren’t rookies to the sport. We aren’t green, and we have no fear. We are all here to perform to the best of our ability and to prove to everyone that not only do we belong here, but that we belong on top.
Least impressive is Michael Easton.”
The crowd boos as the new heel certainly has made his fair share of enemies since beginning with the WCF.
“He’s tearing down men twice his size with the hopes and aspirations of proving himself to be the most dominant force in any room that he sits. But the fact of the matter is that he’s nothing but a man with an overinflated ego because he stands up against those he knows to be weaker than him but with the looks of those stronger than him.
His ego is well deserved in his mind. He is well read and can use his knowledge for the better good of himself, and any of those that he may consider dear to him. But I don’t think that there are many that he calls ‘dear.’ Affections is a two way street. He doesn’t have the mental or the emotional stability to do something that isn’t completely egocentric. He looks out for himself, who he believes is number one and that will ultimately be his downfall.
Whereas I, on the other hand, can find a companion wherever I go because not only am I charismatic but I am damn good looking too. I’ve got that sweet tongue that makes women curl in more ways than one.”
The girls in the audience scream as he looks at the ring announcer who blushes and turns away, but always keeps an eye on him.
Target acquired.
“But this week you are not facing a weak opponent; or even one weaker that you. You are facing the Livewire, the master of High Voltage. The man who makes Thomas Edison look like a BITCH! I’ll be electrifying that ring on Sunday and any and everyone who stands in the ring with me will get a dose of Shock Therapy at my hands…”
His dad insisted on the electricity analogies. He had to jazz it up a bit compared to his dad’s note. Then he started thinking about how it all started, but ended up speaking out loud.
“When I got the nickname ‘Livewire’ back when I started playing music it was because people could expect the unexpected from me that would shock and amaze or sometimes horrify people, like a live wire swaying in the wind. Sometimes the lights were beautiful and amazing and sometimes a building would burn down in flames from the slightest touch. And that’s what makes me so dangerous. This package you’re feasting your eyes upon right now is not only agreeable to the eyes, but the unpredictability and the potential for chaos that follows me is frenzied. But what makes me most dangerous is that I have learned to control that bedlam and use it for my own benefit.
Michael Easton, you are an arrogant and overtly-bombastic nihilist with a god complex but without the talent to back it up. Your brief reign of terror has come to an end, and you can start scraping away at the bottom of the barrel where you belong after this match. This week you step into the ring with wrestlers with more aptitude, and more determination than you and at the end of the day there will be Thunder in Paradise for you when you get hit with some High Voltage. There are two men in this match that are better than you.
Which brings me to Jay Omega, I may have overplayed my arrogance hand with Easton so I’m going to have to think of another way to tear you apart verbally before I tear you apart physically.”
The crowd cheers as Omega’s respect has been earned especially after the defeat of Price and being named by the higher ups as the Wrestler of the week last week.
“Your ability can’t be denied, and your two matches here thus far have been impressive. Hell, Price was in a title match just 2 weeks ago and ended it in a DRAW! But that’s where the praise stops. The only reason, and I mean the ONLY reason that you even stood a chance against that man, and defeated him was because he was physically, spiritually and ardently wiped out after his battle for the World Championship. If you caught him on a regular day, or even just a slightly off day you would have been made to eat dirt like the men he left in his wake to get up to the top spot.
Now please, WCF Universe, please don’t think that I’m a Pantheon enthusiast because the fact of the matter is that a man or group can have my respect in the ring, and it can end there. Their accolades speak for themselves, but their actions outside of the ring are reprehensible and even, for the most part, their actions in the ring are sub-par most of the time, just a series of good timing and good luck with adequate talent got them to the position where they currently sit. If the situation arises where I can get a chance to wrap my hands around the throats of any one of them you can be damned sure that I won’t let go and will take them down a peg where they belong.”
Cheers and boos fill the stadium. There are certainly Pantheon supporters out there and, being green to the company as he is, it was a bold move to call out the stable like that. Some fans appreciated it, but most, even the ones who didn’t favor Pantheon, found it questionable.
"But my upcoming match isn’t against Price, or any other members of Pantheon. They are merely a blip on my radar towards complete dominance of the WCF. This week I face a man whose ONLY claim to fame is taking out one of those members, and it would be dumb of me not to take everything into account while preparing for my upcoming match.
Notice how I use the word match when I speak about this week. Omega likes to refer to it as a fight, and certainly we will be fighting for glory this week, to prove that we deserve to move up in the rankings, and there certainly will be more prosperous matches in the future for the winner of this match, but it is much more than a fight.
A fight is something animals do, based solely off of instinct and usually done to assert their dominance in order to impress the female and send his DNA onward for future generations. A fight is something that dogs do because ruthless and careless individuals force these creatures into situations where they have to fight for survival because their instinct to live is stronger than any other instinct they have.
And that mentality, the will to survive and the will to impress are two great motivating factors for winning a match. But you don’t have that will to survive, do you, Omega? There’s something fucked up in your head and you don’t have the will to survive or procreate; you only have the will to be, and a desire to win because you know of nothing else.
But after it you will know what the bitter taste of defeat tastes like.
This week we will be competing in a wrestling match, a competition where the desire to win and to be isn’t enough to succeed; a contest where merely the desire to hurt and maim will leave you lifeless and nearly breathless with no capability to move forward even another inch. The key is the strategy, skill, and the je no se quoi that only true competitors have. The difference is that I DO know what, and because I know what those intangible qualities are that separates a wrestler from a champion. It’s the knowledge; it’s the passion, and the competency to have a goal in front of you with the awareness to realize it.
My goals are to become the most dominant force in the WCF. I want to show the world that I didn’t get to where I am simply because of my pedigree, but because I am bigger than my name; I surpass my past and look towards the future where good triumphs over evil and Grayson Pierce creates a new legacy that his family can be proud of.”
The crowd cheers and Pierce accepts the praise of the crowd, both impressed with his victory over Dean Phillips, the local champion in a non-title match, and with his clear passion for the industry. He hasn’t completely earned the respect of the WCF Universe. But there was one thing that Pierce knew perfectly clear.
“It takes baby steps.
Step one: win my first match. Check.
Step two: go on a winning streak. In progress. Even after I win this week, 2 wins does not a streak make.
Step 3: Earn the respect of the fans and the administration. Respect comes with victories, but it also comes with putting on a show that people won’t forget. Defeating weak opponents only makes you look opportunistic. Defeating true competitors makes you look immortal.
Step 4: Earn Championship gold.
I keep my goals attainable, and reevaluate them as I achieve more and more. They are ever evolving. My journey to Championship gold goes through Jay Omega, and Michael Easton. They are but stepping stones towards my path to glory. But they are True competitors, this I do not doubt. Unfortunately for them they are in the unenviable and unavoidable position of stepping into the ring with me this week. After the match they will know once and for all that TESLA AIN’T GOT SHIT ON ME!”
Gray Pierce looks into the camera, smiles his million dollar smile, and winks his bright blue eye.
“Because the Livewire is here to stay.”
“Hell Yea!” by Rev Theory plays as he graciously exits the ring and greets the fans sitting around ringside area. Before he exits completely he grabs the ring announcer by the hand and escorts her back to his locker room.
