Threaded Mode | Linear Mode

Lacklan · (09-16-2019)

...relentless...

The red eyes of the albino stare at the screen of a small phone in darkness, the light pushing out showing the silhuette next to her of a curvy form with a head full of microbraids.

...grind...

On the screen, men in black attack the albino and her partner, their numbers proving too much, with their group swarming over the duo with darkness.

...unending...

A member of the darkness removes a hood to reveal brown hair down to a pale chin.

...unforgivable...

The video begins from the beginning again.

“Fasten your seatbelts, please. We are on final approach to Haneda Airport. Local time is-”

I mentioned the other day that I wished the prior week would be an exception to what I normally deal with in this business, and how it was unfortunate that I received more of the same. I do not visit often, but in my hometown of Maine, there is a saying: SSDD, or “Same Shit, Different Day,” and I have often found that this is true about the wrestling business. The business goes through “trends” or “phases,” with different companies promoting different styles coming and going, but so much of the participants and content are the same. Tryhards. Edgelords. Those who get so triggered or shook as to as tilted as any pinball machine in a bar. Big, tough monsters who turn into whiny pissbabies at the slightest provocation.

Its been that way my whole career, Steve. Where is the justice you demand? Where is the justice you cry out into the sky will always be there? I find it hard to find, myself. Always the same people crying and whining and flailing around like toddlers who have been denied a sweet. Will you be better than that? Will you stand tall, your back straight, your chin up into the air so that your eyes can peer at the horizon? I hope so.

Sarah’s eyes close in momentary pain as a shot of bright sunlight sneaks through the tunnel connecting the airplane to the airport. She hisses for a moment, wishing she was wearing her sunglasses, but then thankful that she did not. The tunnel is dark, and she is tired, and her feet plodding with the weight of exhaustion. In front of her, Kenzi walks with a similar heaviness in her steps, the caramel-skinned starlets many braids pulled into a thick tail. Both are laden with a backpack and purse, their carry-on luggage containing emergency supplies, including Sarah’s new gear for her first fight under MMA rules to be held in just a few hours. As they break through the tunnel and into an unloading area, she can see several heads already turning and noticing them. They still have a long way to go, and luggage to collect downstairs, but it seems that they need to clock in already.

Allow me to formally introduce myself to you, Steve. Neither one of us have been around long in this company, though we both seem to have a knack for making immediate impacts, and outside of being on a show or two together, we have not had a chance to meet.

My name is Grey-Lacklan.

Now...what does that axly mean? Different things to different people, I suppose. I grew up in this business, ya see. Instead of Mother’s milk, I was fed tactic and strategy. Instead of clutching at Mother’s apron strings, I pulled on the jacket of a future World Champion and member of many Halls. Instead of primary school, I flew around the world and watched in person how the business is and how it should change. And when I was ready to embark on my own? When I turned a lifetime of dance, swimming, cheer, and lifting into professional wrestling? I caused so many fires that my silly little nickname of “Firestarter” came to life.

Believe you me, any turmoil you see within this company, any roiling bristling you find in our peers, is by no means a new phenomenon. From my debut in January of 2017, I have made the most badass of men and women clutch their pearls over what I have had to say and do. I have demanded CONSISTENT EXCELLENCE from my very first words. I have demanded SUCCESS from my very first match. I pissed off people when I made a grizzled veteran tap out to choke, made them go to management about how I shouldn’t be allowed title shots when I called them down for inconsistencies, and suffered from shenanigans perpetrated by General Managers aplomb. I have been set up, pushed away, and blacklisted. And why?

Because I am relentless.

I REFUSE to accept mediocrity, Steve. I REFUSE to accept the status quo. I REFUSE to accept the goingson of men and women coming together in a circle and jerking themselves off for the betterment of only themselves. And in my travels as a freelancer, as I learn and grow across the world, I have seen the same circles clutching those pearls and jerking themselves off. No matter the style of wrestling, or the rules of the ring, or the faces of those in charge, or in the wrestlers themselves. As those in my old homeland would say: Same Shit, Different Day.

It is no surprise that I have found as much in this warren of insanity that is the XWF. My first words toward Donovan Blackwater were met with anger. My jokes about fictitious covers on YouTube, mockery of those within a sexual identity crises, refusal to lose to a gamer girl, and the promise to teach a young girl how to lose, were all met with derision. And with each win, some by dominance, some by luck, some by wit, created more and more hatred and jealousy. So upset, and so demanding that I be stopped, that even a girl I respect has joined with an idiotic, albeit inventive, stalker so that I may be brought down a peg.

The XWF has become a microcosm of my career, Steve. Where is the justice in that?

“SQUEEEEEEEEEEEE!”

A sound fills the air which most individuals over the age of 25 cannot comprehend. Half screach, one third squeal, one quarter desperate glee, with a small remainder being stark fear, the “Squee” was the sound of the “fan girl.” Kenzi takes a deep breath and Sarah widens her lips to put on her Billion $$$ Smile as they are rushed by a group of girls, all younger than they, with some significantly so. All with dark hair and almond-shaped eyes, the Tokyo contingent of the Fang Gang wear various merchandise of the duo, from Sarah’s old “Bleed the World Tour” t-shirt from the beginning of her freelancer career to Kenzi’s newest Hexx shirt, and even a “Pedo’s Candy: The Accoustic Album” shirt that forces a disapproving scowl onto Sarah’s face. But the scowl does not stay long as Sarah and Kenzi begin to dole out hugs and autographs. Sarah’s flourishing signature, and Kenzi’s more modest by comparison, find themselves being written across posters, music CDs, match compilation DVDs, and even the ultra rare “I Stand with Sarah!” armband.

The group follows the duo like a gaggle of excitable chicks after the mother hens as they Grey-Lacklans make their way down the escalator and to luggage claim. Sarah smiles wider as the group grows down below, with more autographs and hugs given as they collect their bags, a well-made suitcase of black and red for each of them, before heading outward. Leaving the baggage claim area, the two inadvertently lead their fans through the body of the airport until reaching the front and, upon coming down an escalator, they see a far larger group of bodies waiting for them. The sea of girls jump up and down as the Grey-Lacklans enter their sight, waving signs and enlarged promotional photos. Sarah squints behind her glasses at the homemade signs, taking in a repeated message:

ようこそ、5'2 "マフィア

Sarah was an aspiring linguist, an activity which found much in the way of synergy with her ability in mimicry, but her Japanese was limited. However, these words she knew:

Welcome, 5’2” Mafia

Sarah’s smile is broad as she and Kenzi find themselves thrust into the body of her “baby birds.”

This tournament has been an interesting experience, Steve. When the call went up for a tournament, I could not resist. Its my calling, more than any other. Want to REALLY prove a point? Want to REALLY get something settled? Want to REALLY prove yourself? Have a tournament! It takes those special skills to excel in them, ya know. Knowing a variety of opponents, keeping track of who beat who and who you might face, be prepared with multiple contingency plans and be ready to ditch them on a moment’s notice. The thrill of this environment drives me like little else.

I knew I was going to be in it as soon as the call went out. Even though I keep myself to Anarchy, I knew that I would be here for this. And as everyone began to talk to one another about who to team with, as they began to weigh the pros and cons of who they might go with and why, I always knew what I was going to do. Yes, there are a LOT of people I could have gone with. I have been successful with a TON of partners in my career thus far, as I have documented before, but there was only one choice in my heart that mattered. My “ride or die,” as some would say. Or my “ride and die,” as she likes to quip, though that’s just silly because I am a PERFECT driver, thank you very much. Regardless, I knew from the immediate word who I was choosing. And while there are those who rolled their eyes and assumed we would be easy wins due to our size, I knew better.

You know what that is like, don’t you Steve? To be dismissed? To be laughed at? Both of our teams found ourselves in that position as the opening rounds were discussed. But I can promise you, guarantee you, that I held no such feelings towards your team. I mean...sure...your name is lame. Like, legit, it sounds like the two of you just hit the “random name generator” button on the latest edition of TEW and went with it...but I also know that team names are no indicator of who and what a team is. Hell, Kenzi and I went by “Team KICKASS” for two years! Didn’t stop us from mopping the floor with nearly everything put in front of us. And your unfortunate name and seemingly mismatched personalities haven’t held you back, either. You guys have been PHENOMENAL thus far and earned your place in the finals, along with earning the actual championships along the way.

Or have you?

Kenzi begins to smile as the two of them are pushed through the throng of fans, the starlet’s exhaustion giving way to Sarah’s exuberance in the face of the Fang Gang. More autographs, more hugs, more than she can keep count, until the two are pushed out the door in the front of the airport and into the sunlight. Memories flood both of the Grey-Lacklans, memories of a honeymoon from two years ago and another trip the year after, memories filled with tea, cherry blossoms, and watching wrestling. This time, Sarah would be participating in a match, the opening round of yet another tournament, and all away from the daunting specter of the Hooded Man and his minions, including one of Sarah’s future opponents.

They find relief when they are pushed into the backseat of a waiting car, a long black affair affording them peace and quiet from the swarm of fans. They fall on top of one another, each bursting out into a fit of giggles, which can only be found at the edge of consciousness, over the whole affair. They settle against one another as the car begins its trip away from the airport and the seemingly insatiable appetites of their followers. They hook their arms together and interlace their fingers in a way to make their skin tones jump out against one another in contrast, with Sarah’s pale moonlight and Kenzi’s caramel, and lean their heads against one another. Their eyes, the odd red and dark brown, fill with haze as the car makes its way through the crowded Tokyo streets and the two find themselves falling into momentary slumber.

A LOT of people in my career take it REALLY personal when I talk about records and the whole “who beat who” chain. But that is because I hold them accountable for their actions. I hold them accountable for what they have done. I don’t lie or cheat, I don’t make up random shit and hope no one notices. I don’t come up with the most offensive or idiotic thing just for the shock value. I simply hold up the mirror and force people to look at themselves.

People HATE having to look at themselves, Steve.

Something that Hanari said hints at this. He said not long ago that you two and the Apex were the only teams who mattered in this tournament, suggesting that your match on Saturday was the true final. He says that because he refuses to look in the mirror. He refuses to see his own losses. Sure, he’s pulled the generic “I’ve learned from my lessons” mantra of those wishing to curry favor with fans in the peanut gallery, but his words are as transparent as any other in his position. For all of his words of no one else mattering, his falsehoods are blatant in his eyes. It rankles him that, on the very day you yourself made your debut in this company, he ended up on the mat for three seconds and found himself adding to my sojourn for 100.

Hanari rolls his eyes when people go at him for his broken English, but the fact is that he has yet to give people much else to break down. When we fought in July, I tore him asunder for his lack of relevancy and just how little he matters in this company, much less the wider world of wrestling, and he has yet to show anything different for us to chew upon. In fact, all he did after being bested by me was to lose THREE more matches in a row, thus giving truth to my critiques, and only found a modicum of success once you and he began in this tournament. Now, I KNOW that some people will cry out into the heavens with “ACTUALLY!” at that statement, because you DID just defeat the Apex for the championships in the semifinals, but I shall hold up the mirror, if you will so allow:

When the two of you made it past the first round, I thought to myself, “How did THAT happen.” Then I looked deeper and realized that it was by defeating the Disintegrators, a duo of idiocy so out of their depth in the world of wrestling in 2019 to as seem a parody.

When the two of you made it past the quarterfinals, I thought to myself, “Really? Maybe there IS something to this piecemail team.” But then I looked deeper and saw the reality of the situation: You faced a team of “ERMAHGERD LEGENDS” who did exactly what I have preached about: Blakk and MDK had one good return and then faded into the Abyss. Hell, even YOU were mentally checked out of that match and only found focus through the minimal efforts of your partner.

But I was NOT one of the “HOLY SHIT WUT” reactions when you triumphed this weekend. Distracted by Page and his Bitch Bois, and demoralized by the returning Satanist, the Apex have been fractured in a short period of time. They went from an elite group who dominated the main event championship scene to a collection of bodies set adrift in the sea of mediocrity with Nedward guiding the boat. Raven is haunted by fires in his mind, Drew by blurred vision from too many hits to the head in too short a time, and the two of you were there at the right time.

I offer you congratulations on that.

But the thrill of your victory will be short-lived. Because the Grey-Lacklans have trudged through the fires of a business who salivates at the opportunity to bring them down. Noah and Fuzz while you fought the 80’s reject. Famine and Tristan while you fought the splintered Apex. Entire segments of the business crying, whining, and scheming to bring us low, afraid to face the mirror we hold up, afraid to face reality.

What does it mean to be a Grey-Lacklan, Steve?

To never give in to the unending grind. To never forgive the transgressors. To be relentless in our pursuits. And DOMINATE those who scheme against us.

There WILL be justice served on Sunday, Steve. There WILL be a righting of wrongs. And there WILL be new tag team champions.

Kenzi looks at Sarah with admiration in her eyes. Dressed in the required gear for her next fight, including a sports bra, gloves, and a pair of baggy shorts, all the red and black of her usual standard, Sarah rests back onto her haunches before launching a spinning kick into the air. Tired and worn, the duo once again was ready for one of them to fight, to scratch, to claw, with the other at their side, partners in everything. After a man enters the room to give a polite bow and inform them that it was time for her fight, Sarah and Kenzi share a fist bump and follow the man towards the ring at the center of Korakuen Hall. From Coney Island to Atlanta to Tokyo to Chicago, the fight never ends for them.

They are relentless.

Threaded Mode \| Linear Mode Relentless
Author	Message