Bone-Breakers Pro
Wrestling Training Gym (Arbutus, Maryland)
April 9, 2008, 8:00 a.m.
For him, this is where it had all begun, some ten years
ago. One foolish young man, with hopes
and dreams and a passion for the industry, walked through these same doors ten
years ago and emerged a changed man.
Now, he was walking back through those doors, to find a new focus for
his career.
The last three months, in his mind, were a warm-up as he
became re-accustomed to life inside the square circle. Now that his re-acclimation period had ended,
it was time to get serious. Losing the
NLW Championship match only served to sharpen his resolve.
Taking a deep breath, he pulled open the doors of the gym
and entered. Even at this early hour,
there were several people already into their workouts. No one paid him any mind, which is what he
wanted as he strode over to the heavy punching bag in the corner. Pulling on his fingerless gloves, he
addressed the bag properly and began throwing multiple combinations, the repetitive
"thud" of the impact marking time to a song only his body could hear
and react to.
Some time later, he stopped and turned towards the ring,
where there was a sparring session going on.
One of the instructors was trying to teach the basics of defense, and he
turned his full attention to that lesson.
"You see, what you have to do is throw your opponent
off of his game in any way that you can.
If it takes a punch to get his attention, so be it. If it requires a takedown, that’s fine
too. The thing you must NOT allow is for
your opponent to get into a rhythm. If
that happens, you’re in deep trouble and you’re likely not going to win. You got it?"
The opponent, a young guy that barely looked to be
eighteen, nodded weakly. "I...I
think so...."
"And you need to be more confident! You’ll never go anywhere with that kind of
pansy-assed attitude!"
He had heard enough.
Calmly, he stepped towards the ring and said, "Perhaps showing the
young man will be of a help instead of yelling at him."
"And who the hell asked...you?" The instructor finished weakly as he turned
to see who was addressing him.
"I did. That
young man reminds me of me, ten years ago when I first came into this gym. All it took was someone showing me an example
instead of treating me like the village idiot for me to come to terms. The same thing applies here."
The instructor had apparently gotten his confidence back
as he stared outside the ring. "You
think you can deal with me?"
"It’s been ten years, Rick. I think I can more than handle my own."
"Then come on.
Only things between us are air and opportunity."
He knew he wasn’t in his wrestling gear, but it would be
of little consequence. Shrugging, he
climbed into the ring as the young man quickly got out of harm’s way, and
stared down his former instructor, Rick "Pain Machine" Davidson. It was Davidson who spoke first. "I’ve seen too many people come and go;
you however I do not recognize."
He smirked.
"You manage to beat me and I’ll tell you who I am."
"It doesn’t matter.
I prefer not to be burdened with the names of losers." With that, Davidson came towards him, and the
fight was on.
It only took two minutes.
Countering a right hook into an armbar takedown, he quickly locked in
the Blaze of Glory, forcing Davidson to tap before he released the hold. As the instructor rolled into a corner to
leverage himself back to his feet, Will looked down at the young student. "What you just saw is letting someone
lose their control. He couldn’t get any
offense in on me, and so he stopped trying to be calm in the ring. His emotions got the best of him, and you see
the result."
"I...I see your point now," the student replied
as he watched. "I think I have the
hang of it."
"Good. Just
keep that lesson in mind and you’ll be well on your way." He exited the ring, and turned to leave when
Davidson called out.
"Wait a minute...who the hell are you, anyway?"
He paused for a moment before replying. "There are some who call me ‘The
Phoenix.’ Figure the rest out on your
own." Saying nothing more, he
shouldered his duffel bag and strode outside as he set off for his truck.
Undisclosed Location
April 9, 2008, 10:12 a.m.
The ringing of my cell phone
brought me out of my reverie.
"Start talkin’, it’s your quarter."
"I just got the next card
from my brother. He’s got Cade McCaffrey
next, in a Legacy Qualifying match."
"What the hell do they
see in him to keep giving him title opportunities? Hasn’t he proved by now that he’s not good
enough for them?"
"No one ever claimed that
NLW management had a brain, my dear Brandy."
"True enough. Hopefully McCaffrey will knock his ass out
and that will be that."
"Look, I can’t stay long,
he’s expecting me back any moment...I’ll call you back when I get a
chance."
The ‘click’ of the call
disconnecting left me staring out the window, my mind trying to make sense of
what was going on. I knew he had his own
grudges to handle, but if we could just find a way to direct their (his target’s
and Will’s) respective animosities towards each other, the plan would work to
perfection.
The problem I saw is that
Will wasn’t too likely to be led around by the nose, so to speak. We’d have to get the other side to bite
first, and draw his attention in order for this to work. For that, I had to leave things entirely in
my partner’s more than capable hands.
The End of Nowhere
April 9, 2008, 11:18 a.m.
He sat on the rock right outside his cabin, letting the
sun warm him as he sat in contemplation.
In the last three months, he had been through a lot in both his
professional and personal life...and at times he couldn’t tell the difference
between the two!
For a few moments, he went back over what had happened so
far in his NLW tenure: losing his debut
match due to interference, and getting revenge for it four weeks later; the
winning streak he had broken last show; surprising everyone—even himself—by
helping the same man he got revenge on win his title back. Although he could not explain how things
would go, he had a hunch in the back of his mind that despite everything that
had happened, he was not yet done with The Ice Man. Only time would tell as to the veracity of
this hunch.
But that was of no matter.
He was going back to how things used to be for him when he first came
into NLW. His focus had returned with a
vengeance, and right now he had it trained in the direction of Cade
McCaffrey. The fact that she was a woman
didn’t mean a thing to him. After all,
he had been broken out of that situation by both Annie Alvarez and the reigning
NLW Champion.
The fact that she was much smaller than him didn’t mean a
thing, either. There were very few
people on the roster who had anything close to his size. But all of the smaller people had put him
through hell over the last three months.
He expected nothing to change here.
And as for her background...well, once she was on the mat,
trapped in the Blaze of Glory, it wouldn’t matter. She would tap out, one way or the other.
Cade McCaffrey was going to experience, first-hand, what
someone mentally and physically "in the zone" would do to her. There would be no mercy. There would be no misgivings. There would be no surrender. And there would be no escape.
Out of the ashes of defeat, it was time for the Phoenix to be reborn.
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