Doom Dance

[Bryce De Jager]

Royal Oaks Country Club , Dallas Texas
First hole.

The long stretch of fair way sits in camera shot as a hand slowly puts down a Tee with a ball on it, the head face of a driver slowly making its way into camera shot as the whole thing pulls back and start to reveal Bryce at the Tee sunglasses on hair tied back and dressed in black slacks and a Lacoste shirt, you can tell by the little crocodile on his chest.

“Nobody thinks I deserve to be here, yet here I am in a Doom dance cluster of a match where it’s as much about timin’ as it is about just doin’ damage.”

He looks down at his shot and concentrates before taking a swing and sending the ball flying into the distance as he makes a satisfied face, he knows it’s a good shot handing the club off to the caddy as he tightens his golf glove.

“I swagger my ass into Dallas with one goal and that to put Pax Snorecrow to bed and stomp my on paper boss's face in whilst I wreck his prison pocket partner…Just so we’re clear I don’t particularly like any of the others in this and I’m bein’ lumped in with the Verona camp like I’m some sort of fuckin’ toady.”

They start to move for a golf cart even as he sighs and shakes his head.

“Do I look like my name is Cannin? No What I am is the badass who faced death in the eye, endured the company of Rob Diamond in restrictive confines and avoided murder by chainsaw to stand before you today…I am a god reincarnate…Or at the very least tougher than I think ya’ll are giving me credit for.”

His face tenses as they keep moving for cart and clamber in, starting to drive, because walking a few hundred yards is for morons apparently, his tone remains casual, almost analytical.

“The whole point of this is to get the last fall, and last longer than the others. Stormcrow will probably look to be the noble selfless if marketable Hero, problem is man is part of a more corrupt system than wrestling now man’s gone Hollywood, and let me tell you something Pax? It’s only a matter of time before you're asked or forced to do something you really don’ like in the future not a matter of if but when…by the way say hi to Kate for me..”

He makes a phone gesture with thumb and little finger even as he mouths ‘call me’ and winks at the camera as he lowers his sunglasses and lifts them back up.

“You Stormcorw, you get it. You said it best: it’s not about fate, destiny; it’s ‘bout what you can take and you my man have taken plenty in your time, and as one of life’s signature designated victims …You’re going to take a lot more, give it time before somebody in your press office says it’s ’bad optics’ for you and Shimizu to be seen together before your associations with Your DEI team start closing more doors than it opens and please Storm crow don't fuckin’ insult me with defensiveness you literally named yourselves Team Diversity Hire in a pithy ‘stick it to the man’ move..Brave…fuckin’ stupid but brave.”

He shook his head and sighed.

“Balancing your cynicism against your naivety, must not be as delicious as you imagined, then again, you’re the man you hold the belt and you hold it emphatically, but speaking of a man trapped in his optics we got Robbie boy who’d rather his chosen boy or himself like all stacked power hungry Millionaires with an ego and no actual creativity of their own and a narcissism complex so large you can make a signal on it whilst the unsung do the real work.”

The camera rumbles as they go over a bump and start to slow down as they get out the cart and start walking towards the ball in repose on the fairway.

Of course it was a good shot, all the time in the world.

“The Edisons, Musks and Veronas of the world leech off people and when they think people are impinging on their world drawing to smudge the authority they’ve ‘worked’ so hard for they toss the bodies aside and pretend they always were right and we all bow down and kiss the ring, but We do this because we want that recognition ourselves nobody gets into this just to hurt people…. Do they?”

There was a long, long poignant pause as he gave a slight, knowing grin.

“I know I’m part of the problem. Then again now is Pax, the real victim in this whole situation is Cannin, The little puppy who could, yapping and baying at his masters heels with his cock holster waiting for another delicious treat whilst he glitters like a Twilight Vampire in his brooding so we all forget how much of a badass he can be and then BOOM out he comes. Verona won’t care if I break his toys of course…But that won’t stop me imprinting a brand name in his forehead. In fact I think I’m kinda gonna enjoy that.”

He measures up his shot and gestures the camera backwards with a dismissive.

“Too close Moffie, if you want to eat a 7 iron to the dick stay where you are.”

The cameraman takes a few steps back and he tights the grip on his club as he focuses.

“Yet you’ll all say I fuckin’ lucked out, that Diamond should probably be stood where I am maybe even that Spooky fuck Abraxes, yet here I am fuckos.. I’m everyone’s fucking problem but at least I’m honest enough to admit that belt would look DAMN fine on my resume, I could mount it on a wall as a moment and commission some new piece of art deco just to -really- fuck with ya’ll but that’s secondary to the fact that no matter what I do I come out looking like Roses. Crowd might boo me they might think I‘m a dirty, despicable prick…but truth is…They see themselves in me… Sure I have money… sure I rub it in but realistically if They were living my story? They’d be cutting this promo.”

Another shot but this time it pulls to the left and Bryce tosses the club to his caddy with a small frustrated cry.

“Least I didn’t shank it….fuck! Where was I? Oh right Verona, Stormcrow and Parasite.”

He laughs a bit at that and shook his head.

“Tell you something Legionaire’s disease, you really did take the best route to this next to being Verona himself, you sat in the shadow of power and surfs up right in, you're here to take the beating meant for you boss or lay down for him when all is said and done, because trust me Verona might be many things but he is damn sure demand that belt around his waist…and what then Cannin? When the Kaiser stabs you in the back huh? You gonna be so self righteous and servile then? You gonna play Renfield all your life? Get fuckin’ real if that’s the case I’m gonna do you a favour and separate your consciousness from the rest of you so much the CTE doctor will be able to make a Harvard study, do yourself a solid and cut the strings holding your dick up and get a half chub on your own merits.”

He manages a slight smirk even as they were heading to find the next ball, not able to drive this time so somebody has to follow up with the cart.

“‘Course it won’t *matter* If you get the belt? Congratulations The Vizier is pretty much sat behind you treating you like Kermit. His hand so far up your rectum it’s tickling your eyes , the curtain is down and everyone in the company is gunning for you. If it’s anyone else other than Verona or you. Then all you are is hot air either way you lose and you lose -hilariously- Cannin.”

He gives a grim little chuckle.

“Which means I gotta circle back around to the guy who is a least on familiar footing being outnumbered by three white guys all booking for what he’s currently holding.. And maybe the one guy in the ring who has even a lick of an idea what it’s like being in the mud. Granted for him it’s by Circumstance, I chose that life. Snorecrow here had to pull up his cottons and make something of himself off Rez power to him; he's weaponised his brand into something marketable.”

He pauses as he finally finds the ball in the rough and looks at it and then the camera and sneers a bit.

“This Stormcrow…is you, just off the fairway, with a good view of the green thinking you might be able to sail over the water and avoid the sand trap..It’s fuckin’ amazing how deliciously naive and hopeful you are that you and yours will walk outta this thing still champions…Ok But I gotta make the play that that *might* just actually happen. You got a habit of pulling a rabbit outta your arsehole.”

He measures up his shot and considers it.

“You might just find position A and keep it, hell one in 3 is as good as odds as any let’s face it you do only really have 2 opponents as one is attached to Verona’s anus forming a weird sort of gestalt being ”

He aimed again and then he tooks his shot and the ball sailed off into the distance and he did a little fist pump as he started walking again.

“So , I vote we both spend time stomping Verona and Cannin’s shit in and let the boys sort themselves out form the Men and allow me to crush your dreams in my own time, do a proper stretching match , see which one of us can wriggle all the better and use that Surgical table like it’s supposed to be.”

He considers that thought the metal image of the violence to come as he sighs happily.

“Or I could sit most of it out and pick the bones of whoever is left…both work, the second is much less fun for me but far more sensible. But I have some rage I need to express this week, I have a few Diamond related issues to press into Verona’s face, that beans on toast eating Tory fuck.”

He settled himself just a touch as he kept walking.

“Of course this could all be me trying to talk myself up for what will turn out to be a war, but you see… I still don’t lose in that situation, that;s my kinda playground, I live for that shit the hair pulling name calling…Not to mention the wrestling.. Between the Hypocrisy of my opponents and the fact I‘m just a different kind of mutant.”

Bryce laughs a little to himself as he is swapping to another club.

“I’m not predicting victory, I’m not that fuckin' stupid or insipid to assume it’s goin’ to fall in my lap, too many variables to assume the story ive written will play out exactly how it’s on teh page, too many opposing narratives for this not to be a Choose your own adventure where my story still gets fed a little, It’s a hungry, greedy little bastard I’ll tell you that and Thank you Verona for serving yourself as a delicacy.”

He licks his lips and moves up to the ball again as he measures his shot again and taps his foot in the grass some.

“So I eat good … don’t I? It’s hard to see what I shouldn’t like about the situation I’m in, No plan, just throw fists and suplexes maybe a weapon or two here and there until the claret spills and The real art begins right?”

He closes his eyes even as he quietly makes the shot onto the green , deep… and it rolls and he frowns as he seems to lose sight of the ball as he looks at the camera as he seems to come back to reality.

“I should be here talking about how I'm going to win this belt, how this is my first shot at the gold.About how I deserve it more than any of you but the truth is? I don’t give a rat's crap about the why or the -deserve-. I’m here on the road and the reasons don’t matter do they? You can say short cuts and running cared but you fuckers weren’t in that hole, you weren't in a rat piss soaked hell you didn't have Adel Trevant gooning over you in the back of a van. You wanna know the truth after all that carnage and destruction and blood ..as the sun rose and the medics checked every inch of me and I got tentaus shots and bandaging?”

He managed a little laugh as he started walking for the green again.

“I didn’t feel a fucking thing, I looked at the cuts and bruises and I expected to feel fear, anger or pain.. Instead I was numb and I was -bored- lads I was fucking bored of that..So if any of you boys can make me feel something other than that deep gnawing black? By all means You get a pat on the back…”

A small laugh even as hollow as it seems to become.

“I’ll send you a bunch of flowers myself, but I doubt it… I suspect at the end of things I’ll hold a belt under my head I’ll look at your bloody, battered shells and all I'll think is…I do not recognize the bodies on that canvas.”

He shook his head again and adjusted his sunglasses.

“We’re coming up on the doom dance, all of us, this monster has gotta be fed again, or it’ll start to lash out at everyone and no one will be safe, no one will be ready, so buckle up girl scouts and I’ll get to stepping.”

He managed a sigh as he crossed a bridge heading towards the green of the first hole.

“May whatever gods you pray for have mercy when the dark rushes in, I'm gonna look really good with that belt on my shoulder , may the best of us win…I’m sure I’ll be as humble in victory as I am in entry.”

He gives the camera a shit eating grin and as he turns at the top of that hill to enter the green he gives a mocking copy of Rob Diamond’s ‘suck it’ chop

“I’m not the guy any of you asked for, maybe not even the guy you wanted but I’m absolutely the guy you need, and i’ll show you why that is when I’m the fittest to survive, or the sneakiest…take your fuckin’ pick.”

Another little grin.

“Peace out Beetchies.”

Fade out.

---

The real purpose of his golf trip was not a pithy promo, that was just set dressing no, the camera hadn’t shown who he was with who spoke with him.

“You expect you’ll actually get your name on the big marquee? This bread and circuses bullshit?”

Jack Stone was a walrus of a man, bald headed and he thoroughly enjoyed the money that followed his work, but it sometimes required meetings like this with Bryce.

“What I do on screen, is none of your business, How is the back purchase going? What’s the update on the old man?"

Wilem De Jager had been hospital bound for the last 5 years, breathing through a tube and hadn;t eaten solids for at least three months now, Jack was convinced Byrce was keeping him alive as an exercise of torture, but as long as the money came in, the old man kept breathing, what was left of him anyway.

“Oh you know how he is Son,and they’ve gone well, we should have the Kane academy and the pissant Japanese conglom secure, we expect to see results in a few days, you aren’t teachin’ are you?”

Bryce laughed a bit and shook his head.

“Fuck no, put somebody who knows what they’re doin’ in charge of both spots, people who’ll make it something if it needs a rebrand, rebrand it. But keep my name out of it. I’m just the landlord for these places, y’hear? Now square me up on this Head character.”

A shrug.

“Writer on the Indies rode a docket on the Playboy articles, fluff pieces nobody read but it got him access to people and places still has his fingers in a few pies why?”

Bryce shook his head even as they moved for the carts to keep talking.

“Wondering what trouble that Brazilian girl’s got herself into, keep digging but it's a low prio, an ear to the ground and all that, any news on the next game?”

Stone shook his head even as he chuckled with a whiskey rasp voice.

“Not yet, seems Jackson is still a little sore about the favours extracted from him last time, says somebody must have cheated. I'm trying to talk him around but you might be a player down.”

Bryce shook his head and waved his hand.

“Send an invite out to the usual suspects, add whoever you need to see if we can make the number bigger, make it a party.”

A slow chuckle.

“Anyone you’re not inviting?”

A small grin from Bryce even as he climbed into the golf cart.

“Yeah no Demontfords or Ushers… The Ushers have bad press right now oh and get the Moffie a better camera and some blocking , he nearly ate a swing to his groin trying to get a good shot and I’m starting to like the fucker.”

Stone gave a chuckle, considering his consigliere duties assigned for the next little stretch.

“You’re the boss."

Bryce considered that statement and nodded.

“That’s right, I am.”