Post by Bryn Shander on May 28, 2014 7:47:32 GMT -5
Ten years ago, his life had continued to go downhill after what had happened in the service. After graduating from high school, Bryn had immediately enlisted into the Marines. It was simply what was expected, being a tradition from an extremely patriotic family. There were memories associated with that time that Bryn Shander had done his best to shut out of his mind, even seeking the services of multiple counselors, and psychologists. He managed well in keeping them from the forefront of his mind, but there were times when it simply slipped past those defenses and walls he had put up.
Bryn shook his head violently, as if to physically throw them aside. He took a moment, a few deep breaths, and his mind refocused. Ten years of imprisonment, for a crime that Bryn had thought to be very unjust and baseless. While still not a very pleasant thought, it was better than the other he was avoiding. His mind drifted to that day, ten years ago...
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It was a beautiful day outside. They had decided to spend the day at the park, enjoying the weather and eating some good grub from the grill. Spring was beginning to transition into the summer, and a slight humidity had made it's way into the atmosphere. It was a clear day, with nothing but the sun and clear blue sky. Bryn looked over at his light brown, black haired daughter, chuckling to himself as he flipped the steaks on the grill while she and Marcus, his African American friend who had quite the gut and a thick beard, who had been with him through thick and thin in the service, blew bubbles together, running around and trying to pop them before they hit the ground. His wife Leah, also black, smiled and waved at him as she leaned against the trunk of a tall ash tree. She fiddled around in her purse, presumably searching for her phone due to the buzzing sound he heard. He returned the smile, then waved over Marcus.
Marcus: What's good man? How them steaks comin along?
Bryn: Almost done, wanted to see if you think this one is done enough for Alesha.
You know what you're doin', why you askin' me for?
Well Marcus, I think you'd have a better grasp on cooking. Like I always say, you can always rely on a fat chef to deliver good food.
Comeon' man....
Bryn grinned widely, enjoying himself at his friends expense. They had that type of relationship, and could always give each other shit without any hard feelings. They had been through a lot together, and were like brothers. Having no living family of his own, he had sort of been adopted into Bryn's.
Ah, you know I'm just messing with you. Though truth be told you HAVE put on a lot of weight...
The steaks look fine, asshole.
He decided to just leave it at that. All of a sudden, Bryn saw something flash in the corner of his eye, and heard a scream. It was Leah. Bryn dropped the spatula immediately and whipped around to see Leah sprawled on the ground, holding her head. His daughter stood there in shock, frozen, her young mind unable to process what was going on. The culprit was dashing off, a purse in hand. Byrn immediately gave chase, wanting to get back the purse, and to punish the man who had dared to strike his wife. As he started off, he gave a quick word to Marcus.
Make sure they're okay!
Even after his service, having an honorable discharge, he had kept himself fit unlike his friend. He quickly cut into the distance between him and his target, a skinny young black male, appearing to be in his late teens. The kid looked back at his pursuer for a moment, before looking forward again, nearing the basketball court. He stumbled for just a moment, but quickly regained his balance. It didn't last long, as Bryn came within distance and pushed the youth in the back, causing him to fall down. The players on the court noticed the commotion, and approached the scene, simply watching. The kid pushed himself up and stood a few feet from Bryn, the purse lying on the ground. Bryn narrowed his eyes at him, his fists clenching, taking a step forward.
Young Male: Damn man, chill out alright?
You struck my wife and took something that didn't belong to you.
My bad man, my bad. You...you can have the purse back, I don't want any trouble. I'll just be going now...
No you won't son, you crossed the line. You are going to stay here while I call the police, and you can deal with them. You're lucky I don't stomp your ass right now.
Whatever man, you gonna be a snitch? Typical cracka...
Typical nigger, stealing things.
Ah man, why you gotta call me that?
You called me a cracker, basically saying I am a slave owner. That ain't right, just like calling you a nigger ain't right.
A couple of the basketball players spoke up, interjecting themselves into the conversation.
"Yo, that's racist man"
"Not cool man, he shouldn't take your stuff, but you are being ignorant"
I'm being ignorant? A bit of a double stand here don't you think? Besides, there is a difference between a black man, and a nigger
Whatever man, this is stupid. I'm leaving, not going to stay around for a snitch to call the cops.
Bryn took a step forward, in an attempt to restrain the guy, but Bryn's eyes caught a flash of the sun being reflected off of a knife that the young man had produced from a pocket. Bryn felt a sting on his forearm, cutting deep.
I ain't playin' man, take the purse and go. Neither of us want to see you cut up and on the ground. Just bounce out.
Bryn took a quick glance at his arm, inspecting the damage. It was painful, and losing a little blood, but it wasn't too serious. The situation however, was dangerous. On principle, he couldn't just let this guy go, running around with a knife in his pocket. What would happen to the next victim he robbed? They could end up in the hospital or worse, dead. Bryn was a man who stuck to his convictions, and would not let this go. The knife was not too threatening to Bryn, as the young male was clearly outmatched even with the weapon. It was a street thug versus a military veteran.
Bryn closed the distance between the two, and the youth took a wild swing with the knife. Bryn sidestepped and grabbed his arm, twisting it around his back, and wrenching the wrist up, causing the grip on the knife to be lost, and it fell to the ground. Bryn kicked it out of the way, and shoved the man to the ground.
I would suggest that you stop, and go willingly.
The guy sneered, and got back up to his feet. Bryn observed him, wondering if he would continue or let himself be detained. The guy approached Bryn, and his shoulders shrank low, holding his hands out in a submissive gesture.
Marcus: Hey, everything alright man?
Marcus came running, or waddling, calling out to his friend about twenty feet away.
Yeah, it's handled thanks. Everyone okay?
Marcus' eyes widened and tried to call out a warning, but it was too late. He began to run towards Bryn, huffing and puffing the whole way as he was out of breath. Bryn turned around just in time to receive a solid blow, a hard, bony fist square on the nose. He silently reprimanded himself for letting his guard down. Bryn was by no means a small man, standing over six foot tall and all muscle. His balance however, was not as it would be had he been expecting more violence. Bryn stumbled backwards and tripped over a rock, falling to the ground. The kid was on him in an instant, reigning down lighting fast, vicious blows. Bryn covered up as best he could, and raised up his knees. Using his legs, and rolling backwards, he muscled the kid off of him, sending him tumbling behind him. Again the youth sprung to his feet, but Bryn was there quickly, his patience having been blown away like the wind. This person had attacked his wife, stolen from him, and assaulted him with a deadly weapon. Bryn would put this man down. At this point it was simply self defense. Bryn feigned a jab with the left, and brought his right skywards, giving a strong uppercut that send his opponent sprawling onto the concrete of the basketball court. The players moved out of the way, simply watching at this point. If Bryn had been in a clear mindset, he would have noted his disgust at their approval of this senseless violence.
Bryn was no longer in the park, no longer in Fort Worth, no longer in Texas, no longer in the United States. He had been attacked by a Muslim insurgent before with a knife as his squad was clearing a building over in Iraq. The knife attack from the youth, and the blindsiding strike that caught him unawares, had seemed to have knocked his mind back into some repressed memories, bypassing the safeguards and walls he had erected. A hard downwards blow of a fist caught the insurgent in the side of the head, but it was not enough. He could not, would not relent, the building rage intensifying with every passing second.
Bryn! Stop man, he's done!
Marcus finally reached Bryn, trying to pull him off. Bryn simply reacted at the touch, an elbow thrown backwards, crashing hard into Marcus, causing him to fall to the ground holding his bloody face. Another heavy punch landed, and then another, and another. At the back of his mind, the faint notion of something penetrating his thigh was almost registered, but the adrenaline had taken over, and he was fueled by raw instinct, memories of the past, and anger. He grabbed the terrorist's face, and smashed his head into wooden floor of the building, or in reality, the concrete of the court. The grip on the knife released, and the body went motionless, but Bryn continued to pummel the skull into the ground until it started to become soft, squishy. A pool of blood started to form, the warm fluid all over his knees and hands.
Next thing he knew, he was falling backwards, wrapped up in a restraining hold. The darkness of the building began to brighten, as the sun and sky started to take it's place, Marcus' voice coming into his auditory senses. What jolted him back to reality the most, however, was a high pitched scream, followed by the sobbing. His brain began to register it and place the pieces of reality back together. He recognized that voice.
It was his daughter.
He was let go, and helped to his feet by Marcus, and he turned around, red faced, white knuckled, and covered in blood. In hindsight, Bryn would wonder how much of a monster he must have looked like to his precious little girl, as she stood there, white faced, eyes wide open, crying, staring at her father in horror. He looked around, everyone staring, mouth agape at the terrible scene, a few people on their phones with the police. Police sirens could be heard quickly approaching, and Bryn felt his gut drop at the gravity of the situation. He looked over at the motionless body of the young man, and the scene of carnage. He looked down at his bloody hands, visibly trembling, and he seemed to lose his breath, and his ability to speak, but his thought at that moment rang loudly...
What have I done?
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The trial had put a heavy financial drain on his family, and they could not refinance the house again. It ended up being sold, but they were still in debt. The prosecutors had tried to charge him with murder, but it did not stand. Due to the testimonies of his psychiatrist and counselors, it was downgraded to manslaughter due to the post traumatic stress. His attorney tried to convince the jury it was self defense, and to a degree it was, but the jury would not buy it. A few of the players on the court that had witnessed the whole thing, had given reports to the police that Bryn was using derogatory slurs, and attacked him due to his race. A few "civil rights" activists in the vein of Al Sharpton, had jumped all over this. It was decided that what took place was a hate crime, but the death of the youth was not intentional. How this case did not come to national attention, Bryan could not say, but he was grateful for it. A very small silver lining that did not really cheer him up.
He spent time in a psychiatric ward, to further help him with his mental conditions stemming from his service, but after a few months he was sent to jail. As seemed to be the trend with his life since his time spent on active duty, fate seemed to be quite content with consistently defecating on him. His time in prison, for the most part, was a very rough time for him. The ten years he spent locked up had hardened him even further. He kept certain elements of himself, but he had changed, for the worst. He simply adapted to his situation and environment to survive and just get by. Marcus visited him often, but his wife did not come to see him until two years later. His daughter was never brought, as the incident scarred her emotions deeply. The visits from Leah became once a month, but she was starting to move on, and she did her best to try to get them out of their financial hole, barely keeping afloat. She did not have the time, or the desire to visit him anymore. She had tried to stay faithful, but in her mind this simply was not the man she married, and all of the family's problems, were caused by him. He was the problem. This did not help matters, and was one of the many reasons for the change in Bryn.
Marcus though, loyal as he had always been, always managed to visit Bryn every month, until the change in Bryn became so drastic, that he started an argument and told him to stop coming to see him.
His friend did as was requested, but he would be there for him when he got out
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Only three months after Marcus had picked up Bryn the day he got released, he was employed and working as a bouncer in a club. He did not really know what to do with his life at this point, and his family simply would not see him or let him visit. Bryn simply put his mind on his work, drinking and sleeping around when he was not. He was grateful to Marcus for setting him up with the job, but he did his best to avoid him. He simply had trouble facing his friend after everything. Bryn enjoyed his work. As the prison hardened him, he began to embrace violence and felt a rush of endorphins whenever he had to take care of problems at the club. He was better able to temper the depth of his actions though, and had more restraint. Most of the time. He enjoyed the small things, throwing someone out the door, the joy of a single punch to a drunk customer causing issues. The money wasn't that bad either, pretty decent, but he was far from wealthy. He was in hot water lately, going overboard a couple times on some unruly patrons. He wasn't worried about getting fired, and didn't let it bother him. Sometimes though, Bryn would wish he had more purpose, something he could achieve and excel at. His emotions ranged from happy, sad, depressed, and multiple others. He wanted to be someone, someone important and respected.
Five months into the job, his life would take another execpected change. It was a typical night, the loud music reverberating throughout the club, people yelling, drinking, dancing, and having a good time. The strobe lights danced all about the walls and floor, and there was nothing to draw his attention. He simply kept watch and snacked on all the eye candy. Two men entered the club, wearing fancy, professional looking suits. Bryn thought it was rather odd, but they would be paying customers, so he took their cover charge, patted them down for weapons or anything not permitted by the club, and let them through.
The two men sat down at the main bar, and ordered some drinks, ignoring everything else going on around them, just wanting a few drinks to relax after a long stressful day, and discuss business. They happened to be talent scouts for Thy WWE, and had held some tryouts in Fort Worth. It had not gone very well.
Not a single guy in there, you've got to be kidding me.
Yeah, you'd think there would be someone in this town up to standards.
The boss is not going to be happy about this, coming back empty handed.
Too bad the guy at the door isn't a wrestler, he's a good size.
Ah well, we'll figure something out.
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The two men had a quota to fill, and at the very least they wanted someone with experience who could enter the ring in just a few months. They were desperate, as the company was putting enormous pressure on them to bring in new talent. They needed to put fans in the seats, and a new superstar could potentially do that for them. At the very least, they needed someone to come in, put on a good match, and get beaten, making one of their already existing superstars look better, and gain popularity.
The two continued to drink, washing the bitter failure of the day down. Later into the evening, a commotion happened near the entry. The large man who had allowed them entry was breaking up a fight. He could not calm them down, or atleast get them to take it outside. The two men began to turn on the man preventing them from having their scrap, swinging at him hard. The man impressively and viciously put a stop to that, and fired back. The whole thing ended up with a man being slammed through a table, and the other thrown through a window. Bryn's restraint that he had most of the time, slipped past him and ended up causing him difficulty again, as his boss came storming over and taking him outside to talk. The two talent agents, impressed by what they saw, or atleast it seemed impressed in their slightly drunk minds, followed, each taking out a cigarette and lighting up to use as an excuse to eavesdrop.
I warned you Bryn, this is the third time this has happened. Not only are you risking us a lawsuit, you could go back to jail for this! Also, you aren't getting paid this week, that money will be put into repairing the damage!
Bryn stared at him stoically, no emotion at all, his rage having been sated with the end of the fight. He rolled his eyes, and took out a can of Copenhagen chewing tobacco, putting a fat dip in his mouth, and spitting on the ground.
This is serious, and you need to listen up. I know I told you about my three strike rule, but I know you are trying to put your life back together and I want to give you another change. I don't know why, but I feel bad, even though you keep fucking it up for yourself.
Screw you. I quit. As much as I like it here, I can't stand your constant nagging. Yeah I went overboard and broke a few things this time, but I handle business. I've done a damn good job for you.
Whatever Bryn, I'm tired of your crap. People like you are a dime a dozen, and I'll have a replacement sooner than you can say "unemployment office". You are nothing Bryn, you always will be, because all you are is just one big failure. Get out of here.
Bryn proceeds to smirk at him, spit some brown chewing tobacco saliva at his feet, and walks off. The two smokers nearby look at each other.
Are you thinking what I'm thinking?
No, you can't be serious.
Why not?
Because of his attitude, and the fact that HE'S NOT A WRESTLER.
So what? Instead of coming back with our usual recruits, we bring back a big, tough fighter. It will be unique! The boss likes risks sometimes.
Yeah, but if he doesn't like the idea, it's our jobs on the line.
Well, we are empty handed anyways, we might aswell just try it.
I guess...but do you really think he'll be ready? The camp is only a few months long, and that won't fly with someone with absolutely no wrestling experience.
Bah he can pick it up as he goes.
After a simple shrug, the scout pushing the idea runs ahead to catch up with Bryn. The other follows suit quickly.
So....I hear you are in need of a job...
Yep, recently unemployed. What's the job?
I have the opportunity of a lifetime for you...and the pay is very good.
Money talks. I'm listening.....
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A few months later, Bryn had graduated from the camp, sort of. The two men had spoken with Bryn about the job offer, and in the end the pay that was promised won him over. He wasn't exactly the best wrestler at the camp, and normally anyone of his caliber, or lack thereof, would not have been accepted. However, the bookers seemed to be sold on the idea of putting someone like him in and corrected...fudged...the grades. He was not terrible, just simply inexperienced. He had an amazing dropkick though that everyone raved about. At times he would get lost, confused with the grappling. He would get so frustrated that he simply resorted to pure fighting, countering a german suplex with an elbow to the head, and such. That was exactly what they wanted out of him, however, and he would soon be in the ring on Monday Night Raw. The problem was determining an opponent to match him up with. Soon they came up with an idea.
What about Triana?
You really want to pit him against the Intercontinental champion in his first match? She will mop the ring up with him.
Think about it. We make a video package, showing off his aggression, pick some of his better moves from training camp, and display it as a hype the week before. Interest will clearly be drawn, people are very curious and will want to find out what he's all about. Then, we release the card to the public, and they see a match with Triana, who has been very successful and won multiple championships, and is on a roll right now. On the other side, we have this big bad bruiser to challenge her, in a non title match of course. A classic match of finesse and speed versus pure power.
And what if he simply snaps, grabs a chair and sends our champion to the hospital? That won't work out well with the pay per view right around the corner.
We'll have extra security ready to rush the ring if we see any indication of that. That would make great hype though. People will want to see what he does next. Either way, he will most likely be defeated and it will make Triana look like a million bucks, having taken down this guy. Good momentum heading into the pay per view.
I guess that sounds good. She needed an opponent anyway, so we'll see what happens.
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This was his chance. His desire to make something of himself, become someone important....a window of opportunity had presented itself for him to seize. He couldn't mess this up, not this time. He would not squander this opportunity, and would finally get somewhere. He was informed of his opponent, and had no qualms about facing a woman after considering it for awhile. At a young age, he had been taught by his parents to be a gentleman to the ladies, to treat them with respect even when respect was not shown to him. It was simply the way it was. However, he came home one day as a young child from school, having been beaten up by a girl in class. His father was shocked, and asked him why he did not fight back.
Father: You just sat there, and let her kick the crap out of you?
Bryn: I'm not supposed to hit a lady Dad, that's what you told me.
Father: Son, let me make this clear to you and get rid of any confusion. A lady, is no longer a lady if she hits you. If she slaps you, you do nothing, but if she balls up her fist and comes at you, put her down. She is a man at that point, that is the mindset you have to have. There are some tough women out there, your mother among them. I wouldn't want to mess with her. The point is, that when it comes to a fight, everyone is on equal footing. You do what you have to do to win. Now, you go back to school tomorrow, and if she does it again, I want you to show her you will not be pushed around. Do not underestimate her though, that will just make you get beat up again. Do you understand?
Yeah, I think so...
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Bryn knew that Triana was more than capable of taking people out. She was a champion, and to Bryn that said a lot about her. She had beaten men much bigger than her, and if he underestimated Triana in the slightest, he would end up on the losing side of things. He had watched tapes of her recent matches, and always seemed to be able to pull out the victory over much stronger competition. He would treat her as an equal, and do his best to figure out how to react in an actual wrestling match, in an actual ring, in front of thousands of screaming fans. The thought was a bit daunting, but he would rise to the challenge. It was now or never, to make this turning point in his life, and in order to do so, he needed to make a splash. A lesson he had learned in prison...you have to take someone out your first day, or things will be very tough, and will be difficult to gain that respect back. He would not make the same mistake again, and would not hold anything back.
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On the night of the event, he had refused to give any interviews. His agent had scolded him for doing so, but Bryn was not in the mood to hear it. He would figure all of that stuff out later. He had to focus on tonight, on his debut. He was too wound up to do anything but prepare his mind for the match at hand. He looked down at his spandex shorts, and snorted, feeling ridiculous. He went to the sink and splashed cold water in his face, trying to get his mind together. He looked at himself in the mirror.
Who are you? Colonel Shander of the United States Marines...no, of course not, you got kicked out. Honorably or not, you screwed that up. Are you the upstanding citizen, following the laws of the land, being a responsible and contributing member of society? Of course not, you are a convicted felon, spending ten years wasting tax payers money for something you could have avoided. Are you the man who went into prison, a weak little bitch, who grew a pair of balls and took that respect back by blood? No, that is in the past. How about Bryn, the family man, proud father and loving husband? Not even close. You ruined it, with your foolish actions, and inability to get a grip on your mental psyche.
You cannot even hold a simple job. You disgust me Bryn.
No, it is time to become something else, time to evolve, to take this life by the throat and demand that it give you everything you want. You are the one in control of your destiny. All of your past failures have led to this. You WILL get a hold of your mental capacities. You are a combat veteran, and survived and experienced many horrible things, but here you still stand. You survived prison, not unscathed, but it made you stronger. You feel nothing about the man you killed in Texas anymore, do you? Marcus says you are different, that you have changed. He is right, but this change is what is needed for this job. Everything you have been through has lead to this, and has prepared you. Feel that anger, that rage, the adrenaline coursing through your veins, and control it. Do not let it take hold over you, but instead funnel it, use it as a weapon against your opponents. Focused fury, keeping control at all times, but inflicting pain on her. You want to hurt her, don't you Bryn? You want to give her, and anyone else you face in the future, a small taste of the pain and suffering you have experienced. You find joy in this. You are sick Bryn, but you don't care, and the thought is thrilling to you.
This is what you are Bryn, embrace it. Do not hide or shy away from what will be your greatest asset, and your key to victory and success here. It is a shame one so great and talented, and quite beautiful, will have to be the first to experience it. No, not a shame, it should be an honor to be the first step towards your rise to prominence. After the comments she made, about you, and locking you in a cell...that is insulting. Do not let her get away with that. You cannot let them, anyone, show you disrespect. She can spend all day fiddling around in a cell and talking about clouds, trying to be poetic, but you Bryn Shander...you will focus on what needs to be done.
Accept this as who you are now Bryn. You are greater than you ever have been, and that greatness will continue to grow and swell, until all of Thy WWE knows you as the champion that you are. Destroy and hurt anyone who comes into your path. Tonight your future begins with Triana. Do not let her jump around the ring, you will swat her down out of the air and stomp her into the mat. She is in your way Bryn, remove her, and begin path on destiny's road.
Bryn yells out, grabbing the mirror and tossing it across the room. It was almost time, and he is a man on a mission. He stalks his way out of the room and towards the curtains, ignoring, not seeing anyone he walks by, the edges of his vision a bright red lining. This would be the first of many victories to come. The first of many to feel the pain the world had inflicted upon him.
He smiled at the thought, as his music began to play. He pulls out a dip of tobacco, and heads out to the ring, his mind clearing of whatever it was that spoke to him, his attention directed on the task at hand.
Bryn shook his head violently, as if to physically throw them aside. He took a moment, a few deep breaths, and his mind refocused. Ten years of imprisonment, for a crime that Bryn had thought to be very unjust and baseless. While still not a very pleasant thought, it was better than the other he was avoiding. His mind drifted to that day, ten years ago...
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It was a beautiful day outside. They had decided to spend the day at the park, enjoying the weather and eating some good grub from the grill. Spring was beginning to transition into the summer, and a slight humidity had made it's way into the atmosphere. It was a clear day, with nothing but the sun and clear blue sky. Bryn looked over at his light brown, black haired daughter, chuckling to himself as he flipped the steaks on the grill while she and Marcus, his African American friend who had quite the gut and a thick beard, who had been with him through thick and thin in the service, blew bubbles together, running around and trying to pop them before they hit the ground. His wife Leah, also black, smiled and waved at him as she leaned against the trunk of a tall ash tree. She fiddled around in her purse, presumably searching for her phone due to the buzzing sound he heard. He returned the smile, then waved over Marcus.
Marcus: What's good man? How them steaks comin along?
Bryn: Almost done, wanted to see if you think this one is done enough for Alesha.
You know what you're doin', why you askin' me for?
Well Marcus, I think you'd have a better grasp on cooking. Like I always say, you can always rely on a fat chef to deliver good food.
Comeon' man....
Bryn grinned widely, enjoying himself at his friends expense. They had that type of relationship, and could always give each other shit without any hard feelings. They had been through a lot together, and were like brothers. Having no living family of his own, he had sort of been adopted into Bryn's.
Ah, you know I'm just messing with you. Though truth be told you HAVE put on a lot of weight...
The steaks look fine, asshole.
He decided to just leave it at that. All of a sudden, Bryn saw something flash in the corner of his eye, and heard a scream. It was Leah. Bryn dropped the spatula immediately and whipped around to see Leah sprawled on the ground, holding her head. His daughter stood there in shock, frozen, her young mind unable to process what was going on. The culprit was dashing off, a purse in hand. Byrn immediately gave chase, wanting to get back the purse, and to punish the man who had dared to strike his wife. As he started off, he gave a quick word to Marcus.
Make sure they're okay!
Even after his service, having an honorable discharge, he had kept himself fit unlike his friend. He quickly cut into the distance between him and his target, a skinny young black male, appearing to be in his late teens. The kid looked back at his pursuer for a moment, before looking forward again, nearing the basketball court. He stumbled for just a moment, but quickly regained his balance. It didn't last long, as Bryn came within distance and pushed the youth in the back, causing him to fall down. The players on the court noticed the commotion, and approached the scene, simply watching. The kid pushed himself up and stood a few feet from Bryn, the purse lying on the ground. Bryn narrowed his eyes at him, his fists clenching, taking a step forward.
Young Male: Damn man, chill out alright?
You struck my wife and took something that didn't belong to you.
My bad man, my bad. You...you can have the purse back, I don't want any trouble. I'll just be going now...
No you won't son, you crossed the line. You are going to stay here while I call the police, and you can deal with them. You're lucky I don't stomp your ass right now.
Whatever man, you gonna be a snitch? Typical cracka...
Typical nigger, stealing things.
Ah man, why you gotta call me that?
You called me a cracker, basically saying I am a slave owner. That ain't right, just like calling you a nigger ain't right.
A couple of the basketball players spoke up, interjecting themselves into the conversation.
"Yo, that's racist man"
"Not cool man, he shouldn't take your stuff, but you are being ignorant"
I'm being ignorant? A bit of a double stand here don't you think? Besides, there is a difference between a black man, and a nigger
Whatever man, this is stupid. I'm leaving, not going to stay around for a snitch to call the cops.
Bryn took a step forward, in an attempt to restrain the guy, but Bryn's eyes caught a flash of the sun being reflected off of a knife that the young man had produced from a pocket. Bryn felt a sting on his forearm, cutting deep.
I ain't playin' man, take the purse and go. Neither of us want to see you cut up and on the ground. Just bounce out.
Bryn took a quick glance at his arm, inspecting the damage. It was painful, and losing a little blood, but it wasn't too serious. The situation however, was dangerous. On principle, he couldn't just let this guy go, running around with a knife in his pocket. What would happen to the next victim he robbed? They could end up in the hospital or worse, dead. Bryn was a man who stuck to his convictions, and would not let this go. The knife was not too threatening to Bryn, as the young male was clearly outmatched even with the weapon. It was a street thug versus a military veteran.
Bryn closed the distance between the two, and the youth took a wild swing with the knife. Bryn sidestepped and grabbed his arm, twisting it around his back, and wrenching the wrist up, causing the grip on the knife to be lost, and it fell to the ground. Bryn kicked it out of the way, and shoved the man to the ground.
I would suggest that you stop, and go willingly.
The guy sneered, and got back up to his feet. Bryn observed him, wondering if he would continue or let himself be detained. The guy approached Bryn, and his shoulders shrank low, holding his hands out in a submissive gesture.
Marcus: Hey, everything alright man?
Marcus came running, or waddling, calling out to his friend about twenty feet away.
Yeah, it's handled thanks. Everyone okay?
Marcus' eyes widened and tried to call out a warning, but it was too late. He began to run towards Bryn, huffing and puffing the whole way as he was out of breath. Bryn turned around just in time to receive a solid blow, a hard, bony fist square on the nose. He silently reprimanded himself for letting his guard down. Bryn was by no means a small man, standing over six foot tall and all muscle. His balance however, was not as it would be had he been expecting more violence. Bryn stumbled backwards and tripped over a rock, falling to the ground. The kid was on him in an instant, reigning down lighting fast, vicious blows. Bryn covered up as best he could, and raised up his knees. Using his legs, and rolling backwards, he muscled the kid off of him, sending him tumbling behind him. Again the youth sprung to his feet, but Bryn was there quickly, his patience having been blown away like the wind. This person had attacked his wife, stolen from him, and assaulted him with a deadly weapon. Bryn would put this man down. At this point it was simply self defense. Bryn feigned a jab with the left, and brought his right skywards, giving a strong uppercut that send his opponent sprawling onto the concrete of the basketball court. The players moved out of the way, simply watching at this point. If Bryn had been in a clear mindset, he would have noted his disgust at their approval of this senseless violence.
Bryn was no longer in the park, no longer in Fort Worth, no longer in Texas, no longer in the United States. He had been attacked by a Muslim insurgent before with a knife as his squad was clearing a building over in Iraq. The knife attack from the youth, and the blindsiding strike that caught him unawares, had seemed to have knocked his mind back into some repressed memories, bypassing the safeguards and walls he had erected. A hard downwards blow of a fist caught the insurgent in the side of the head, but it was not enough. He could not, would not relent, the building rage intensifying with every passing second.
Bryn! Stop man, he's done!
Marcus finally reached Bryn, trying to pull him off. Bryn simply reacted at the touch, an elbow thrown backwards, crashing hard into Marcus, causing him to fall to the ground holding his bloody face. Another heavy punch landed, and then another, and another. At the back of his mind, the faint notion of something penetrating his thigh was almost registered, but the adrenaline had taken over, and he was fueled by raw instinct, memories of the past, and anger. He grabbed the terrorist's face, and smashed his head into wooden floor of the building, or in reality, the concrete of the court. The grip on the knife released, and the body went motionless, but Bryn continued to pummel the skull into the ground until it started to become soft, squishy. A pool of blood started to form, the warm fluid all over his knees and hands.
Next thing he knew, he was falling backwards, wrapped up in a restraining hold. The darkness of the building began to brighten, as the sun and sky started to take it's place, Marcus' voice coming into his auditory senses. What jolted him back to reality the most, however, was a high pitched scream, followed by the sobbing. His brain began to register it and place the pieces of reality back together. He recognized that voice.
It was his daughter.
He was let go, and helped to his feet by Marcus, and he turned around, red faced, white knuckled, and covered in blood. In hindsight, Bryn would wonder how much of a monster he must have looked like to his precious little girl, as she stood there, white faced, eyes wide open, crying, staring at her father in horror. He looked around, everyone staring, mouth agape at the terrible scene, a few people on their phones with the police. Police sirens could be heard quickly approaching, and Bryn felt his gut drop at the gravity of the situation. He looked over at the motionless body of the young man, and the scene of carnage. He looked down at his bloody hands, visibly trembling, and he seemed to lose his breath, and his ability to speak, but his thought at that moment rang loudly...
What have I done?
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The trial had put a heavy financial drain on his family, and they could not refinance the house again. It ended up being sold, but they were still in debt. The prosecutors had tried to charge him with murder, but it did not stand. Due to the testimonies of his psychiatrist and counselors, it was downgraded to manslaughter due to the post traumatic stress. His attorney tried to convince the jury it was self defense, and to a degree it was, but the jury would not buy it. A few of the players on the court that had witnessed the whole thing, had given reports to the police that Bryn was using derogatory slurs, and attacked him due to his race. A few "civil rights" activists in the vein of Al Sharpton, had jumped all over this. It was decided that what took place was a hate crime, but the death of the youth was not intentional. How this case did not come to national attention, Bryan could not say, but he was grateful for it. A very small silver lining that did not really cheer him up.
He spent time in a psychiatric ward, to further help him with his mental conditions stemming from his service, but after a few months he was sent to jail. As seemed to be the trend with his life since his time spent on active duty, fate seemed to be quite content with consistently defecating on him. His time in prison, for the most part, was a very rough time for him. The ten years he spent locked up had hardened him even further. He kept certain elements of himself, but he had changed, for the worst. He simply adapted to his situation and environment to survive and just get by. Marcus visited him often, but his wife did not come to see him until two years later. His daughter was never brought, as the incident scarred her emotions deeply. The visits from Leah became once a month, but she was starting to move on, and she did her best to try to get them out of their financial hole, barely keeping afloat. She did not have the time, or the desire to visit him anymore. She had tried to stay faithful, but in her mind this simply was not the man she married, and all of the family's problems, were caused by him. He was the problem. This did not help matters, and was one of the many reasons for the change in Bryn.
Marcus though, loyal as he had always been, always managed to visit Bryn every month, until the change in Bryn became so drastic, that he started an argument and told him to stop coming to see him.
His friend did as was requested, but he would be there for him when he got out
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Only three months after Marcus had picked up Bryn the day he got released, he was employed and working as a bouncer in a club. He did not really know what to do with his life at this point, and his family simply would not see him or let him visit. Bryn simply put his mind on his work, drinking and sleeping around when he was not. He was grateful to Marcus for setting him up with the job, but he did his best to avoid him. He simply had trouble facing his friend after everything. Bryn enjoyed his work. As the prison hardened him, he began to embrace violence and felt a rush of endorphins whenever he had to take care of problems at the club. He was better able to temper the depth of his actions though, and had more restraint. Most of the time. He enjoyed the small things, throwing someone out the door, the joy of a single punch to a drunk customer causing issues. The money wasn't that bad either, pretty decent, but he was far from wealthy. He was in hot water lately, going overboard a couple times on some unruly patrons. He wasn't worried about getting fired, and didn't let it bother him. Sometimes though, Bryn would wish he had more purpose, something he could achieve and excel at. His emotions ranged from happy, sad, depressed, and multiple others. He wanted to be someone, someone important and respected.
Five months into the job, his life would take another execpected change. It was a typical night, the loud music reverberating throughout the club, people yelling, drinking, dancing, and having a good time. The strobe lights danced all about the walls and floor, and there was nothing to draw his attention. He simply kept watch and snacked on all the eye candy. Two men entered the club, wearing fancy, professional looking suits. Bryn thought it was rather odd, but they would be paying customers, so he took their cover charge, patted them down for weapons or anything not permitted by the club, and let them through.
The two men sat down at the main bar, and ordered some drinks, ignoring everything else going on around them, just wanting a few drinks to relax after a long stressful day, and discuss business. They happened to be talent scouts for Thy WWE, and had held some tryouts in Fort Worth. It had not gone very well.
Not a single guy in there, you've got to be kidding me.
Yeah, you'd think there would be someone in this town up to standards.
The boss is not going to be happy about this, coming back empty handed.
Too bad the guy at the door isn't a wrestler, he's a good size.
Ah well, we'll figure something out.
[/i]
The two men had a quota to fill, and at the very least they wanted someone with experience who could enter the ring in just a few months. They were desperate, as the company was putting enormous pressure on them to bring in new talent. They needed to put fans in the seats, and a new superstar could potentially do that for them. At the very least, they needed someone to come in, put on a good match, and get beaten, making one of their already existing superstars look better, and gain popularity.
The two continued to drink, washing the bitter failure of the day down. Later into the evening, a commotion happened near the entry. The large man who had allowed them entry was breaking up a fight. He could not calm them down, or atleast get them to take it outside. The two men began to turn on the man preventing them from having their scrap, swinging at him hard. The man impressively and viciously put a stop to that, and fired back. The whole thing ended up with a man being slammed through a table, and the other thrown through a window. Bryn's restraint that he had most of the time, slipped past him and ended up causing him difficulty again, as his boss came storming over and taking him outside to talk. The two talent agents, impressed by what they saw, or atleast it seemed impressed in their slightly drunk minds, followed, each taking out a cigarette and lighting up to use as an excuse to eavesdrop.
I warned you Bryn, this is the third time this has happened. Not only are you risking us a lawsuit, you could go back to jail for this! Also, you aren't getting paid this week, that money will be put into repairing the damage!
Bryn stared at him stoically, no emotion at all, his rage having been sated with the end of the fight. He rolled his eyes, and took out a can of Copenhagen chewing tobacco, putting a fat dip in his mouth, and spitting on the ground.
This is serious, and you need to listen up. I know I told you about my three strike rule, but I know you are trying to put your life back together and I want to give you another change. I don't know why, but I feel bad, even though you keep fucking it up for yourself.
Screw you. I quit. As much as I like it here, I can't stand your constant nagging. Yeah I went overboard and broke a few things this time, but I handle business. I've done a damn good job for you.
Whatever Bryn, I'm tired of your crap. People like you are a dime a dozen, and I'll have a replacement sooner than you can say "unemployment office". You are nothing Bryn, you always will be, because all you are is just one big failure. Get out of here.
Bryn proceeds to smirk at him, spit some brown chewing tobacco saliva at his feet, and walks off. The two smokers nearby look at each other.
Are you thinking what I'm thinking?
No, you can't be serious.
Why not?
Because of his attitude, and the fact that HE'S NOT A WRESTLER.
So what? Instead of coming back with our usual recruits, we bring back a big, tough fighter. It will be unique! The boss likes risks sometimes.
Yeah, but if he doesn't like the idea, it's our jobs on the line.
Well, we are empty handed anyways, we might aswell just try it.
I guess...but do you really think he'll be ready? The camp is only a few months long, and that won't fly with someone with absolutely no wrestling experience.
Bah he can pick it up as he goes.
After a simple shrug, the scout pushing the idea runs ahead to catch up with Bryn. The other follows suit quickly.
So....I hear you are in need of a job...
Yep, recently unemployed. What's the job?
I have the opportunity of a lifetime for you...and the pay is very good.
Money talks. I'm listening.....
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A few months later, Bryn had graduated from the camp, sort of. The two men had spoken with Bryn about the job offer, and in the end the pay that was promised won him over. He wasn't exactly the best wrestler at the camp, and normally anyone of his caliber, or lack thereof, would not have been accepted. However, the bookers seemed to be sold on the idea of putting someone like him in and corrected...fudged...the grades. He was not terrible, just simply inexperienced. He had an amazing dropkick though that everyone raved about. At times he would get lost, confused with the grappling. He would get so frustrated that he simply resorted to pure fighting, countering a german suplex with an elbow to the head, and such. That was exactly what they wanted out of him, however, and he would soon be in the ring on Monday Night Raw. The problem was determining an opponent to match him up with. Soon they came up with an idea.
What about Triana?
You really want to pit him against the Intercontinental champion in his first match? She will mop the ring up with him.
Think about it. We make a video package, showing off his aggression, pick some of his better moves from training camp, and display it as a hype the week before. Interest will clearly be drawn, people are very curious and will want to find out what he's all about. Then, we release the card to the public, and they see a match with Triana, who has been very successful and won multiple championships, and is on a roll right now. On the other side, we have this big bad bruiser to challenge her, in a non title match of course. A classic match of finesse and speed versus pure power.
And what if he simply snaps, grabs a chair and sends our champion to the hospital? That won't work out well with the pay per view right around the corner.
We'll have extra security ready to rush the ring if we see any indication of that. That would make great hype though. People will want to see what he does next. Either way, he will most likely be defeated and it will make Triana look like a million bucks, having taken down this guy. Good momentum heading into the pay per view.
I guess that sounds good. She needed an opponent anyway, so we'll see what happens.
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This was his chance. His desire to make something of himself, become someone important....a window of opportunity had presented itself for him to seize. He couldn't mess this up, not this time. He would not squander this opportunity, and would finally get somewhere. He was informed of his opponent, and had no qualms about facing a woman after considering it for awhile. At a young age, he had been taught by his parents to be a gentleman to the ladies, to treat them with respect even when respect was not shown to him. It was simply the way it was. However, he came home one day as a young child from school, having been beaten up by a girl in class. His father was shocked, and asked him why he did not fight back.
Father: You just sat there, and let her kick the crap out of you?
Bryn: I'm not supposed to hit a lady Dad, that's what you told me.
Father: Son, let me make this clear to you and get rid of any confusion. A lady, is no longer a lady if she hits you. If she slaps you, you do nothing, but if she balls up her fist and comes at you, put her down. She is a man at that point, that is the mindset you have to have. There are some tough women out there, your mother among them. I wouldn't want to mess with her. The point is, that when it comes to a fight, everyone is on equal footing. You do what you have to do to win. Now, you go back to school tomorrow, and if she does it again, I want you to show her you will not be pushed around. Do not underestimate her though, that will just make you get beat up again. Do you understand?
Yeah, I think so...
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Bryn knew that Triana was more than capable of taking people out. She was a champion, and to Bryn that said a lot about her. She had beaten men much bigger than her, and if he underestimated Triana in the slightest, he would end up on the losing side of things. He had watched tapes of her recent matches, and always seemed to be able to pull out the victory over much stronger competition. He would treat her as an equal, and do his best to figure out how to react in an actual wrestling match, in an actual ring, in front of thousands of screaming fans. The thought was a bit daunting, but he would rise to the challenge. It was now or never, to make this turning point in his life, and in order to do so, he needed to make a splash. A lesson he had learned in prison...you have to take someone out your first day, or things will be very tough, and will be difficult to gain that respect back. He would not make the same mistake again, and would not hold anything back.
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On the night of the event, he had refused to give any interviews. His agent had scolded him for doing so, but Bryn was not in the mood to hear it. He would figure all of that stuff out later. He had to focus on tonight, on his debut. He was too wound up to do anything but prepare his mind for the match at hand. He looked down at his spandex shorts, and snorted, feeling ridiculous. He went to the sink and splashed cold water in his face, trying to get his mind together. He looked at himself in the mirror.
Who are you? Colonel Shander of the United States Marines...no, of course not, you got kicked out. Honorably or not, you screwed that up. Are you the upstanding citizen, following the laws of the land, being a responsible and contributing member of society? Of course not, you are a convicted felon, spending ten years wasting tax payers money for something you could have avoided. Are you the man who went into prison, a weak little bitch, who grew a pair of balls and took that respect back by blood? No, that is in the past. How about Bryn, the family man, proud father and loving husband? Not even close. You ruined it, with your foolish actions, and inability to get a grip on your mental psyche.
You cannot even hold a simple job. You disgust me Bryn.
No, it is time to become something else, time to evolve, to take this life by the throat and demand that it give you everything you want. You are the one in control of your destiny. All of your past failures have led to this. You WILL get a hold of your mental capacities. You are a combat veteran, and survived and experienced many horrible things, but here you still stand. You survived prison, not unscathed, but it made you stronger. You feel nothing about the man you killed in Texas anymore, do you? Marcus says you are different, that you have changed. He is right, but this change is what is needed for this job. Everything you have been through has lead to this, and has prepared you. Feel that anger, that rage, the adrenaline coursing through your veins, and control it. Do not let it take hold over you, but instead funnel it, use it as a weapon against your opponents. Focused fury, keeping control at all times, but inflicting pain on her. You want to hurt her, don't you Bryn? You want to give her, and anyone else you face in the future, a small taste of the pain and suffering you have experienced. You find joy in this. You are sick Bryn, but you don't care, and the thought is thrilling to you.
This is what you are Bryn, embrace it. Do not hide or shy away from what will be your greatest asset, and your key to victory and success here. It is a shame one so great and talented, and quite beautiful, will have to be the first to experience it. No, not a shame, it should be an honor to be the first step towards your rise to prominence. After the comments she made, about you, and locking you in a cell...that is insulting. Do not let her get away with that. You cannot let them, anyone, show you disrespect. She can spend all day fiddling around in a cell and talking about clouds, trying to be poetic, but you Bryn Shander...you will focus on what needs to be done.
Accept this as who you are now Bryn. You are greater than you ever have been, and that greatness will continue to grow and swell, until all of Thy WWE knows you as the champion that you are. Destroy and hurt anyone who comes into your path. Tonight your future begins with Triana. Do not let her jump around the ring, you will swat her down out of the air and stomp her into the mat. She is in your way Bryn, remove her, and begin path on destiny's road.
Bryn yells out, grabbing the mirror and tossing it across the room. It was almost time, and he is a man on a mission. He stalks his way out of the room and towards the curtains, ignoring, not seeing anyone he walks by, the edges of his vision a bright red lining. This would be the first of many victories to come. The first of many to feel the pain the world had inflicted upon him.
He smiled at the thought, as his music began to play. He pulls out a dip of tobacco, and heads out to the ring, his mind clearing of whatever it was that spoke to him, his attention directed on the task at hand.
