Post by Hunter "By God" Valentyne on Nov 21, 2023 14:22:05 GMT -6
Each person in life reflects on the bad things they have done and the accomplishments of their life as they age. They all have regrets and things they wish they could change. Some people reflect on their proudest moments and try to relive them in their mind as much as possible. The funny thing about the past is that each person views their past differently depending on perspective. It can either put a smile on that face or drive a person insane.
Some would deem certain actions as reprehensible or deplorable. They ended up being things that were done in the name of competition in the world that had been chosen. You do the things that are necessary to achieve the success that was desired. The more success a person has, the more they want more of it. That success becomes a more dangerous drug than cocaine or marijuana. No amount of success ever satiates you. You need more and more to satisfy your ego. That success turns you into an addict and there is no cure for it.
When discussing a past that some might call checkered due to actions that are considered reprehensible, it is a matter of perspective. The life once knew went away when the sound of the crowds went away. They loved to hate and hate to love. They become critical of the one thing they ask you for. But that is a life that has been gone for 467 days and counting. Incarceration tends to change the lives of those who are in that situation and for those who once knew that person in that former life of freedom.
How did this happen to a man who was once considered a God in the world of wrestling? How did one life disappear and be replaced by one of a caged animal? Sometimes things change and you have no idea how they changed. It is not a different life. The old life fades to black and is replaced by a new reality. It is not a better or worse life. It just becomes life as you know it. A person can cry about it all they want. They can wish for freedom to the point it drives them insane. Or you can simply accept this new fate as the life you live each day. THis is the fate that has been accepted.
Each person is asked if they could change an action if they would. Life is not about regret. Even if that action is regretted, it cannot be changed. The things done in the name of competition and fueling the addiction of success cannot be changed. A person needs to accept the things done regardless of reason. There is no changing the past.
A look back at the trial makes a person wonder how that conclusion was reached based upon the evidence. The only piece of evidence was a ring that has rarely adorned this finger. Why it was chosen to be worn will always be a mystery. Perhaps it was the vanity of reveling in the glory that the addiction of success caused. Who really knows? The circumstantial evidence took away everything. The power was gone. The success was gone. All that remains is a man in a white jumpsuit with a number on the back. The identity of a man who was once considered to be a legend is now reduced to being referred to by a number chosen by the state of Illinois.
The word once known has become a little world of its own. The man who was once revered for his talent and desire to do whatever it took to win, was broken by the process. Life became lived in increments of time that become meaningless. In the world your time becomes your identity. No person in here looks like, or is treated as an individual. All that changed on one summer day last year. It could have been last year, who knows? Days run into weeks, weeks to years, years to hopelessness. The man who has become a friend was attacked by a man who was very mean and hurtful.
The man had to warden by the throat and had every intent on ending his life before a boot struck his face in a very violent way. The man dropped to the ground with blood pouring from his head. The warden struggled to regain his breath. That look changed the outlook of a man with nothing left. He grabbed his throat and thanked a soulless mass of humanity for actually showing some for the first time in a long time. Life changed as that man became part of the society away from society.
The person that the world grew to despise for his actions to feed his addiction, became a man that was respected due to actions that were foreign to a jerk like that. In this society away from society, gang warfare became a constant way of life. One gang would create violence on the other. The man who was once despised was left alone on a little island because of the violence learned by feeding that addiction. Violence respects violence. Truth respects truth. This is the way of life as it has become. These people did not realize they only have the power that the man allowed them to have. The guards allowed certain of these things to take place. The warden knew it was good for his control of the place. Not that Warden Warren was a bad dude or anything. He knew if he lost control, chaos would ensue. That chaos benefits no one.
These are the thoughts running through the mind of the new God of this society away from society. Reflecting on a life once had, now dead due to the actions of others. Reflecting on how this power came to be. Each of the leaders of these gangs pretending like this was turf they owned, but never would. Each of them would come around if there was a situation they either could not handle or did not want to soil their soiled hands. The currency of this place was favors. If they owed you a favor, you were as safe as you were in your mother’s womb.
Earlier in the day, one of them had stopped by to ask for a favor. Tensions were growing by the day in this little fake society. Of course, The idea of this society being as fake as the people once associated with a long gone life, could never be verbally admitted. The tension, however, was very real. WIth laced hands behind a head covered in scars, The idiot that now shared a less than spacious abode began to do the once thing despised by everyone in here. He chose to speak to me.
“Come on baby. Give daddy some sugar!”
Why does one become incarcerated and into a flaming homosexual? The world may never know the answer to that one. But this dude kept insisting on doing it. It really gives a person a headache dealing with it all.
“First of all, we both know who the daddy is around this place. Second of all, shut your mouth before the curb stomp your effeminate ass into unconsciousness. Just stop speaking and you can live to see tomorrow.”
“Playing hard to get? You know that turns me on.”
This horrible conversation is interrupted by a knock on the door by the guard. He was very tall and had huge arms. He always wore the tightest uniforms ro show them off. Can't blame him. Most people would do the same. All in all he was a very fair minded dude and never gave off the type of energy like he thought he was better than other people like some guards do. It wouldn’t take much to stomp out someone that was messing with him, as if he ever needed help. HIs name was Guard Bland. Yes, he got many jokes because of that name.
“ Warden needs to speak to you. He is not in the best of moods.”
He appeared to be stern mainly because he despised the other person in the room. That dude was super annoying so it was an agreed upon principle. The other person was lying on his bed trying to be seductive, but ended up looking like a complete moron. Being liberated from the annoyance of this company was a welcome relief from the current situation.
“No problem.”
Guard Bland leads the way out of the hell that was once occupied. He walks very quickly, almost running to get to the warden’s office. He is giving the impression that this meeting with the Warden is highly urgent in nature. The gate of the man following him picks up precipitously. A slight knock on the door as the Warner invited the people on the other end of the door to enter.
“Come in. MIster Valentyne we need to have a serious talk. Thank you Guard Bland for taking the matter as seriously as you have. You may go now. Mister Valentyne and I have serious matters to be discussed and it requires the utmost privacy.”
“No problem, Warden.”
The large man leaves the room and closes the door behind him. This just leaves the new God of the fake society and the warden to discuss whatever matters are on his mind. He seems weighed down with the matter he intends to discuss.
“Smoke?”
The warden always wants to smoke with people. It never made sense to me but it did ease the tension on a surgically repaired shoulder that always seemed to cause discomfort. With a smile he hands me a cigarette with his own lighter. The thing is lit instantly as smoke emits from lungs that were once black and hardened. Hell probably still are.
“I need two favors. I know I already owe you like twenty, but I need your help with two very sensitive situations that have come up. I know I appear to be needy but it is a matter of utmost importance.”
It has never occurred to him that these favors are owed by the man before him, not the Warden. As long as he thinks that, it is beneficial for him to keep thinking that. In the end, both parties know better.
“What is on your mind, Warden Warren?”
The man takes a long hit on his vape while smoke from a cigarette fills the room. The mixture of tobacco and fruity scents cause an odd odor.
“You well know there has been tension between the two factions here. I need you to sit down with the two leaders and try to come to an accord. I do not need an all out war here. See if you can get them to see eye to eye.”
“I am someone who was once a man. Now I am a number like everyone else. I will do my best. I am not a miracle worker. I have decent relationships with both men so I will see what i can do, Warden Warren.”
“Your best is all that I require.”
“Warden, you said something about a second favor?”
“This one you might not like. Last week I received a letter from the state. They said that there were several prisons who were possibly going to be closed. This decision would be based upon the money brought in from outside endeavors. Work Projects, charitable events and the like. Two days ago I received a letter that could save the prison. This could bring in the money required to get the job done. This involves you, specifically.”
“Why me?”
“It is from one Jesse Styles and the NEW Edge Wrestling Board of Investors. They have agreed if you were to work for them that they would donate a fairly large sum of money to the prison, thus saving it. It is totally up to you and I can understand why you would desire not to. I hope you will help me out with these two favors.”
“Haven’t heard that name in a long time. Now it goes against my principles to do anything to help Jesse Styles. But it does offer an opportunity to clear my name. I can help you with both of those things.”
"You do not have a problem going back there? I mean there is an added incentive that you are unaware of.”
“Incentives are my thing, you know that Warden Warren. What exactly are these incentives?”
“You will be entered into a Battle Royal to take place in Chicago later on this week. The winner gets some sort of prize. Second and third place also gets a prize of some description. You do this and the prison gets the money. It is in your benefit for this prison to stay open and keep our relationship as it is.”
“I understand the benefits, Warden. Second or Third place is no option. My addiction did not come into being because of getting a participation trophy. Tell me if anyone has had anything remotely interesting to say about this match. Oh and you said something about incentive?”
“Two of your ex- wives are in the match.”
“Well that makes things a little different now, doesn’t it? I am guessing it is Blair and Apathy, since Kendra has not been seen or heard from in a number of years. Striking Blair will not be my favorite activity, Apathy is another story.”
“Why not Blair?”
“Because, unlike Apathy, Blair actually is talented. Plus I tried with her to get her to understand her worth instead of relying on the men in her life. She eventually got it after our marriage ceased to exist. But it appears I will put that to the side and beat her if necessary. You know I need information, Warden.”
The warden passes me his phone and without another word leaves the room. Another cigarette is lit as the screen lights up with a touch. It was imperative to see what was being said about this match. Of course, Jesse Styles booking a battle royal is the least surprising thing since me being put in prison. LAZY BOOOKING!!!!!!!
“Whatever do we have here? Miss Ruin, you really need to understand who exactly you are dealing with. You do not come to the company I put on the damned map and call someone like me a rando. In the company you are not anything and never will be. You walk into my house and act like you own it? There is a reason you are not coming in the match last and the real talent enters first. It is because nobody actually thinks you are worth a crap. They are not wrong. Now drop your idiotic attitude and show the proper respect and maybe i will not annually sodomize you. Then again maybe not.”
Reading this stuff is getting my blood boiling again. The old anger is coming right back. The thoughts of Jesse Styles tossing me off of a cage and destroying a shoulder in the process continues to annoy. The thought of having to Listen to Karen Wright and her false air of superiority. Listening to Johnny Styles speak. All of it is getting under the skin of a man who hates them all.
“It kills me. Do we have a Navy Seal? AN MMA fighter? A combat sports fighter? An Aussie Football reject? AN interview? Come on Jesse is this what it has come down to? This is the best you could find after killing the company I built on the sweat of my brow? This is it? All these idiots think the legends are washed up? There is a reason why the Legends are the Legends and you people are going to be jerking the curtain on the pre show. Now shut your mouth about what you think the world owes you. You people act more entitled than Roger Wright, if that is even possible.”
With anger, the phone is set down on the desk. It is an anger that has not been felt in a long time. The old ego is coming back and with it the old addiction. Success. Success is not working for a wrestling company nobody has ever heard of. Success is building a company from the embers of the likes of Josh Cole and Devon Stone and turning it into a global phenomenon. There are levels to this.
The warden is outside of the door and points me to a room with Guard Bland leading the way. The door swings open to find the two leaders of the gangs sitting in chairs flanked by three guards. They seemed to be worried about the two coming to blows. This man has been around a lot of violence. Neither one of them seemed to be the type and if they were the type three guards would not stop them.
The first gang is a group of dudes who live to work out and tell you about it all the time whether you want to hear what their max bench press is or not. They flex their muscles as if anyone cares. They are narcissistic people the likes of which have been seen in the wrestling business for years. They also hate it when their egos are deflated by the man sitting in front of them. That is about to happen again in a couple of days in a ring in Chi Town. All these egos of people trying to convince the world and themselves how tough they are about to be deflated..
The second gang is about the lifestyle everybody is talking about. The confused people who are not sure of their own identity. They think something different will make them happy and successful and never does. THey think a new beginning will change past results. No this is not about the unfortunate people to enter a ring in Chicago trying to change themselves from failures to successes. This is about the LGBTQ gang that opposes the untalented muscleheads.
“What seems to be the problem?”
“We are tired of these people calling us dudes. They know very well that we identify as females. We wish they would respect our wishes. Now it has come down to war and nothing is going to stop us from running this whole place.”
“Put bass in your voice if you are going to talk to me.”
“We are sick and tired of them trying to tell us what to do and how to act. THey want us to believe something we do not believe. And if you sissies think you can beat our asses, you best think again.”
“Let’s calm down a little bit. Both of you know better. I run things around here and you both know it. I can get both of you and all of your boys transferred out of here in about ten seconds if I want to. Never forget that I am the God of this place. Now I do not wish to do that because we benefit each other. You keep your people in line so I do not have to. I don't want to have to. But I will if I need to. Now you have had your gym tie restricted as of late because of these conflicts. I can end those restrictions. Also you need your workout supplements to aid your workouts. These sissies as you call them have access to those supplements. WHat if we came to an agreement?”
“I am listening.”
“What if I got your workout restrictions lifted? You people make sure these guys get their supplements and they provide you with the muscle you need to get those things in here? You work together to make life better for everybody.”
“We do not need muscle.”
“Yes you do. They also have muscle on the outside. You provide the factors needed for the favors to return. New people come in all the time and think they can bully you and they can. You now have the muscle to lean on whoever stands against you. They get the supplements and favors and you get the protection against new people. Everybody wins.”
“Can we think about it?”
“Take your time, Miss.”
With an angry motion the room is left behind with the two gang members. Bland is standing outside of the room inquiring if the job is done. WIth a nod to the affirmative he seems to be pleased with the progress. The two men walk back to the Warden’s office to give a report on the happenings of the meeting.
“Mister Valentyne, how did it go?”
“I offered a solution that they are both considering. I need all gym restrictions lifted to grease the wheels of progress. They are considering being the muscle needed on the occasions that I am gone on my other errand. Agreed?”
“Agreed. Now Guard Bland will be accompanying you to your appearances with this little wrestling venture. I hope that is acceptable.”
“I love the little armed fellow.”
Bland gives me a stern look with his arms crossed against his chest. It was always a thought that Bland wore sunglasses to camouflage sleep while on duty but has yet to be proven. He smiles at me as both men leave after their positive meeting.
“My arms are not little.”
“Of course not. Now I have my own reasons for agreeing to do this. You got my back?
“Yup”
“I need to find the person who set me up. He wears a New Edge Wrestling Hall of Fame ring the same as the one I have. Then I can find the person who murdered that man and I can get my life back. I am guessing you are going to stand outside of the ring when I decimate the posers?”
“That is my job!”
“Come on, Lighten up. We are going to have some fun beating the crap out of these people who think they are going to change their failures at my expense. There is nothing better than the look on their faces when they realize they fail because they are not as good as they say they are.”
We both walk out of the room as he escorts the victor in the Battle Royal to his cell. Apparently, the warden is making travel plans as we speak for this absolute demolition that is to come. Maybe Blair can give a brutha some.
Some would deem certain actions as reprehensible or deplorable. They ended up being things that were done in the name of competition in the world that had been chosen. You do the things that are necessary to achieve the success that was desired. The more success a person has, the more they want more of it. That success becomes a more dangerous drug than cocaine or marijuana. No amount of success ever satiates you. You need more and more to satisfy your ego. That success turns you into an addict and there is no cure for it.
When discussing a past that some might call checkered due to actions that are considered reprehensible, it is a matter of perspective. The life once knew went away when the sound of the crowds went away. They loved to hate and hate to love. They become critical of the one thing they ask you for. But that is a life that has been gone for 467 days and counting. Incarceration tends to change the lives of those who are in that situation and for those who once knew that person in that former life of freedom.
How did this happen to a man who was once considered a God in the world of wrestling? How did one life disappear and be replaced by one of a caged animal? Sometimes things change and you have no idea how they changed. It is not a different life. The old life fades to black and is replaced by a new reality. It is not a better or worse life. It just becomes life as you know it. A person can cry about it all they want. They can wish for freedom to the point it drives them insane. Or you can simply accept this new fate as the life you live each day. THis is the fate that has been accepted.
Each person is asked if they could change an action if they would. Life is not about regret. Even if that action is regretted, it cannot be changed. The things done in the name of competition and fueling the addiction of success cannot be changed. A person needs to accept the things done regardless of reason. There is no changing the past.
A look back at the trial makes a person wonder how that conclusion was reached based upon the evidence. The only piece of evidence was a ring that has rarely adorned this finger. Why it was chosen to be worn will always be a mystery. Perhaps it was the vanity of reveling in the glory that the addiction of success caused. Who really knows? The circumstantial evidence took away everything. The power was gone. The success was gone. All that remains is a man in a white jumpsuit with a number on the back. The identity of a man who was once considered to be a legend is now reduced to being referred to by a number chosen by the state of Illinois.
The word once known has become a little world of its own. The man who was once revered for his talent and desire to do whatever it took to win, was broken by the process. Life became lived in increments of time that become meaningless. In the world your time becomes your identity. No person in here looks like, or is treated as an individual. All that changed on one summer day last year. It could have been last year, who knows? Days run into weeks, weeks to years, years to hopelessness. The man who has become a friend was attacked by a man who was very mean and hurtful.
The man had to warden by the throat and had every intent on ending his life before a boot struck his face in a very violent way. The man dropped to the ground with blood pouring from his head. The warden struggled to regain his breath. That look changed the outlook of a man with nothing left. He grabbed his throat and thanked a soulless mass of humanity for actually showing some for the first time in a long time. Life changed as that man became part of the society away from society.
The person that the world grew to despise for his actions to feed his addiction, became a man that was respected due to actions that were foreign to a jerk like that. In this society away from society, gang warfare became a constant way of life. One gang would create violence on the other. The man who was once despised was left alone on a little island because of the violence learned by feeding that addiction. Violence respects violence. Truth respects truth. This is the way of life as it has become. These people did not realize they only have the power that the man allowed them to have. The guards allowed certain of these things to take place. The warden knew it was good for his control of the place. Not that Warden Warren was a bad dude or anything. He knew if he lost control, chaos would ensue. That chaos benefits no one.
These are the thoughts running through the mind of the new God of this society away from society. Reflecting on a life once had, now dead due to the actions of others. Reflecting on how this power came to be. Each of the leaders of these gangs pretending like this was turf they owned, but never would. Each of them would come around if there was a situation they either could not handle or did not want to soil their soiled hands. The currency of this place was favors. If they owed you a favor, you were as safe as you were in your mother’s womb.
Earlier in the day, one of them had stopped by to ask for a favor. Tensions were growing by the day in this little fake society. Of course, The idea of this society being as fake as the people once associated with a long gone life, could never be verbally admitted. The tension, however, was very real. WIth laced hands behind a head covered in scars, The idiot that now shared a less than spacious abode began to do the once thing despised by everyone in here. He chose to speak to me.
“Come on baby. Give daddy some sugar!”
Why does one become incarcerated and into a flaming homosexual? The world may never know the answer to that one. But this dude kept insisting on doing it. It really gives a person a headache dealing with it all.
“First of all, we both know who the daddy is around this place. Second of all, shut your mouth before the curb stomp your effeminate ass into unconsciousness. Just stop speaking and you can live to see tomorrow.”
“Playing hard to get? You know that turns me on.”
This horrible conversation is interrupted by a knock on the door by the guard. He was very tall and had huge arms. He always wore the tightest uniforms ro show them off. Can't blame him. Most people would do the same. All in all he was a very fair minded dude and never gave off the type of energy like he thought he was better than other people like some guards do. It wouldn’t take much to stomp out someone that was messing with him, as if he ever needed help. HIs name was Guard Bland. Yes, he got many jokes because of that name.
“ Warden needs to speak to you. He is not in the best of moods.”
He appeared to be stern mainly because he despised the other person in the room. That dude was super annoying so it was an agreed upon principle. The other person was lying on his bed trying to be seductive, but ended up looking like a complete moron. Being liberated from the annoyance of this company was a welcome relief from the current situation.
“No problem.”
Guard Bland leads the way out of the hell that was once occupied. He walks very quickly, almost running to get to the warden’s office. He is giving the impression that this meeting with the Warden is highly urgent in nature. The gate of the man following him picks up precipitously. A slight knock on the door as the Warner invited the people on the other end of the door to enter.
“Come in. MIster Valentyne we need to have a serious talk. Thank you Guard Bland for taking the matter as seriously as you have. You may go now. Mister Valentyne and I have serious matters to be discussed and it requires the utmost privacy.”
“No problem, Warden.”
The large man leaves the room and closes the door behind him. This just leaves the new God of the fake society and the warden to discuss whatever matters are on his mind. He seems weighed down with the matter he intends to discuss.
“Smoke?”
The warden always wants to smoke with people. It never made sense to me but it did ease the tension on a surgically repaired shoulder that always seemed to cause discomfort. With a smile he hands me a cigarette with his own lighter. The thing is lit instantly as smoke emits from lungs that were once black and hardened. Hell probably still are.
“I need two favors. I know I already owe you like twenty, but I need your help with two very sensitive situations that have come up. I know I appear to be needy but it is a matter of utmost importance.”
It has never occurred to him that these favors are owed by the man before him, not the Warden. As long as he thinks that, it is beneficial for him to keep thinking that. In the end, both parties know better.
“What is on your mind, Warden Warren?”
The man takes a long hit on his vape while smoke from a cigarette fills the room. The mixture of tobacco and fruity scents cause an odd odor.
“You well know there has been tension between the two factions here. I need you to sit down with the two leaders and try to come to an accord. I do not need an all out war here. See if you can get them to see eye to eye.”
“I am someone who was once a man. Now I am a number like everyone else. I will do my best. I am not a miracle worker. I have decent relationships with both men so I will see what i can do, Warden Warren.”
“Your best is all that I require.”
“Warden, you said something about a second favor?”
“This one you might not like. Last week I received a letter from the state. They said that there were several prisons who were possibly going to be closed. This decision would be based upon the money brought in from outside endeavors. Work Projects, charitable events and the like. Two days ago I received a letter that could save the prison. This could bring in the money required to get the job done. This involves you, specifically.”
“Why me?”
“It is from one Jesse Styles and the NEW Edge Wrestling Board of Investors. They have agreed if you were to work for them that they would donate a fairly large sum of money to the prison, thus saving it. It is totally up to you and I can understand why you would desire not to. I hope you will help me out with these two favors.”
“Haven’t heard that name in a long time. Now it goes against my principles to do anything to help Jesse Styles. But it does offer an opportunity to clear my name. I can help you with both of those things.”
"You do not have a problem going back there? I mean there is an added incentive that you are unaware of.”
“Incentives are my thing, you know that Warden Warren. What exactly are these incentives?”
“You will be entered into a Battle Royal to take place in Chicago later on this week. The winner gets some sort of prize. Second and third place also gets a prize of some description. You do this and the prison gets the money. It is in your benefit for this prison to stay open and keep our relationship as it is.”
“I understand the benefits, Warden. Second or Third place is no option. My addiction did not come into being because of getting a participation trophy. Tell me if anyone has had anything remotely interesting to say about this match. Oh and you said something about incentive?”
“Two of your ex- wives are in the match.”
“Well that makes things a little different now, doesn’t it? I am guessing it is Blair and Apathy, since Kendra has not been seen or heard from in a number of years. Striking Blair will not be my favorite activity, Apathy is another story.”
“Why not Blair?”
“Because, unlike Apathy, Blair actually is talented. Plus I tried with her to get her to understand her worth instead of relying on the men in her life. She eventually got it after our marriage ceased to exist. But it appears I will put that to the side and beat her if necessary. You know I need information, Warden.”
The warden passes me his phone and without another word leaves the room. Another cigarette is lit as the screen lights up with a touch. It was imperative to see what was being said about this match. Of course, Jesse Styles booking a battle royal is the least surprising thing since me being put in prison. LAZY BOOOKING!!!!!!!
“Whatever do we have here? Miss Ruin, you really need to understand who exactly you are dealing with. You do not come to the company I put on the damned map and call someone like me a rando. In the company you are not anything and never will be. You walk into my house and act like you own it? There is a reason you are not coming in the match last and the real talent enters first. It is because nobody actually thinks you are worth a crap. They are not wrong. Now drop your idiotic attitude and show the proper respect and maybe i will not annually sodomize you. Then again maybe not.”
Reading this stuff is getting my blood boiling again. The old anger is coming right back. The thoughts of Jesse Styles tossing me off of a cage and destroying a shoulder in the process continues to annoy. The thought of having to Listen to Karen Wright and her false air of superiority. Listening to Johnny Styles speak. All of it is getting under the skin of a man who hates them all.
“It kills me. Do we have a Navy Seal? AN MMA fighter? A combat sports fighter? An Aussie Football reject? AN interview? Come on Jesse is this what it has come down to? This is the best you could find after killing the company I built on the sweat of my brow? This is it? All these idiots think the legends are washed up? There is a reason why the Legends are the Legends and you people are going to be jerking the curtain on the pre show. Now shut your mouth about what you think the world owes you. You people act more entitled than Roger Wright, if that is even possible.”
With anger, the phone is set down on the desk. It is an anger that has not been felt in a long time. The old ego is coming back and with it the old addiction. Success. Success is not working for a wrestling company nobody has ever heard of. Success is building a company from the embers of the likes of Josh Cole and Devon Stone and turning it into a global phenomenon. There are levels to this.
The warden is outside of the door and points me to a room with Guard Bland leading the way. The door swings open to find the two leaders of the gangs sitting in chairs flanked by three guards. They seemed to be worried about the two coming to blows. This man has been around a lot of violence. Neither one of them seemed to be the type and if they were the type three guards would not stop them.
The first gang is a group of dudes who live to work out and tell you about it all the time whether you want to hear what their max bench press is or not. They flex their muscles as if anyone cares. They are narcissistic people the likes of which have been seen in the wrestling business for years. They also hate it when their egos are deflated by the man sitting in front of them. That is about to happen again in a couple of days in a ring in Chi Town. All these egos of people trying to convince the world and themselves how tough they are about to be deflated..
The second gang is about the lifestyle everybody is talking about. The confused people who are not sure of their own identity. They think something different will make them happy and successful and never does. THey think a new beginning will change past results. No this is not about the unfortunate people to enter a ring in Chicago trying to change themselves from failures to successes. This is about the LGBTQ gang that opposes the untalented muscleheads.
“What seems to be the problem?”
“We are tired of these people calling us dudes. They know very well that we identify as females. We wish they would respect our wishes. Now it has come down to war and nothing is going to stop us from running this whole place.”
“Put bass in your voice if you are going to talk to me.”
“We are sick and tired of them trying to tell us what to do and how to act. THey want us to believe something we do not believe. And if you sissies think you can beat our asses, you best think again.”
“Let’s calm down a little bit. Both of you know better. I run things around here and you both know it. I can get both of you and all of your boys transferred out of here in about ten seconds if I want to. Never forget that I am the God of this place. Now I do not wish to do that because we benefit each other. You keep your people in line so I do not have to. I don't want to have to. But I will if I need to. Now you have had your gym tie restricted as of late because of these conflicts. I can end those restrictions. Also you need your workout supplements to aid your workouts. These sissies as you call them have access to those supplements. WHat if we came to an agreement?”
“I am listening.”
“What if I got your workout restrictions lifted? You people make sure these guys get their supplements and they provide you with the muscle you need to get those things in here? You work together to make life better for everybody.”
“We do not need muscle.”
“Yes you do. They also have muscle on the outside. You provide the factors needed for the favors to return. New people come in all the time and think they can bully you and they can. You now have the muscle to lean on whoever stands against you. They get the supplements and favors and you get the protection against new people. Everybody wins.”
“Can we think about it?”
“Take your time, Miss.”
With an angry motion the room is left behind with the two gang members. Bland is standing outside of the room inquiring if the job is done. WIth a nod to the affirmative he seems to be pleased with the progress. The two men walk back to the Warden’s office to give a report on the happenings of the meeting.
“Mister Valentyne, how did it go?”
“I offered a solution that they are both considering. I need all gym restrictions lifted to grease the wheels of progress. They are considering being the muscle needed on the occasions that I am gone on my other errand. Agreed?”
“Agreed. Now Guard Bland will be accompanying you to your appearances with this little wrestling venture. I hope that is acceptable.”
“I love the little armed fellow.”
Bland gives me a stern look with his arms crossed against his chest. It was always a thought that Bland wore sunglasses to camouflage sleep while on duty but has yet to be proven. He smiles at me as both men leave after their positive meeting.
“My arms are not little.”
“Of course not. Now I have my own reasons for agreeing to do this. You got my back?
“Yup”
“I need to find the person who set me up. He wears a New Edge Wrestling Hall of Fame ring the same as the one I have. Then I can find the person who murdered that man and I can get my life back. I am guessing you are going to stand outside of the ring when I decimate the posers?”
“That is my job!”
“Come on, Lighten up. We are going to have some fun beating the crap out of these people who think they are going to change their failures at my expense. There is nothing better than the look on their faces when they realize they fail because they are not as good as they say they are.”
We both walk out of the room as he escorts the victor in the Battle Royal to his cell. Apparently, the warden is making travel plans as we speak for this absolute demolition that is to come. Maybe Blair can give a brutha some.