Post by TheLostBoys on Jan 26, 2017 13:03:59 GMT
*Ding*
“Good morning passengers of United Airlines Flight UA840 to Los Angeles, your flight is now boarding. Please have your boarding passes ready and have a safe trip.”
It was a familiar scene; one we were all accustomed to. You could even go so far as to say it was a bit cliché. But the fact was few scenes fit as a perfect metaphor for transition and taking that bold first step towards a new journey in life than the chaotic boarding of passengers at an international airport terminal.
A large swath of passengers ambled in line to board the estimated 14 hour United Airlines flight direct from Sydney’s International Airport to LAX in Los Angeles, California. It was 10.45am the morning of Monday the 23rd and among the throng were Sam Braxton and Dean Coulter, though they had yet to join the line. Much to Sam’s chagrin, who danced the dance of the restless and anxious, fidgeting on the spot as he waited for Dean to finish his heartfelt goodbyes to his girlfriend, an attractive dark haired woman named Lisa.
“Come one guys! Just hurry it up already!” Sam whinged, interrupting the couples’ romantic embrace. Lisa shot Sam an impish smile.
“You’re just jealous.”
“If you wanted in on the action you should just say so.” Dean added and received a stiff elbow from Lisa.
“Dude, don’t make it weird. Well any weirder than it already is having to watch you two lock lips.”
“Then go and save me a spot in line.”
With a roll of the eyes and a humph Sam did just that, leaving Dean and Lisa to wrap up their farewell.
“Are you sure about this? It’s been a while. And what with Bobby…” Lisa asked, concern clear in her eyes.
“We’ll be fine.”
“I’m not worried about Sam. Just you.”
“I’m sure he’ll appreciate the sentiment.”
“I’m serious Dean.”
“So am I. We know what we are doing. It hasn’t been that long in the grand scheme of things. And this is what we do. We live for it. Relish it. It was bound to happen sooner or later.”
“If you’re sure.” She said in resignation, and Dean's response was a heartfelt smile.
“We’r-I’M sure. I’d better join him before he gets bored and does something stupid. Don’t worry I’ll call you and come back to visit often. I love you.”
“Love you too superstar.”
And with that Dean finished his goodbyes with a kiss and joined Sam in the line-up.
It took a few moments but they eventually had their boarding passes scanned and motioned through the gate. Dean paused briefly, turning back to look at Lisa and everything that was behind him. Truth be told he wasn’t as sure and confident about things as he made himself out to be. It felt wrong, they had always been a team of 3, and Dean’s mind was full of doubts and apprehension.
It had all happened much too fast; their sudden decision to get back into the game, quite possibly influenced by alcohol and a meeting with former talent Kyle Martin who referred them to the well renowned company, the IWF, aka Imperial Wrestling Federation. From there was a bit of research, mostly done by Dean and a series of phone calls and Skype sessions with IWF’s director of talent. In the blink of an eye Sam and Dean were boarding a plane to the states. Dean turned back to Sam, his closest and dearest friend who felt more akin to a brother. Sam looked back quizzically. His determination and excitement had been obvious and palpable, there was no denying that Sam wanted this, and badly. With a breath Dean quashed the nagging doubts running through his mind, after all he wasn’t doing it for himself, he was also doing it for Sam. They were in this together and that accounted for everything.
“Shall we?” Sam asked, inviting Dean to take point.
“We shall.”
“Oh boy, America won’t know what hit them.”
“And what of the IWF?”
“They are going to cop it worse, and by the end they are going to thank us for it.” Dean smiled at Sam, his excitement had a way of rubbing off and as much as Lisa would give Sam a hard time it was often said they brought out the best of each other. Not that Dean would ever admit that.
No, there was no backing down now. It was time to move on.
They were once a formidable trio, but together they would carve a new path and become an even greater duo. Of this they were certain.
---
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Ah the glory of time zones. By Australian time when Sam Braxton and Dean Coulter arrived in Los Angeles, California it was 1.30 in the morning of Tuesday the 24th. Whereas the local time was 6.30am Monday the 23rd.
Stepping foot onto the terminal in LAX it took considerable restraint for Dean not to fall to his knees and kiss the floor. Being stuck inside a plane for roughly 14 hours with an over-excited and over-stimulated Sam Braxton was a form of tortured you wouldn’t wish on even the most deplorable of war criminals. An iPad with archived IWF shows, matches and promos had mitigated the behaviour somewhat. May as well use the time productively and all.
However, as the two went through the motions of customs and luggage retrieval there was something else on Dean’s mind. An oversight into Sam’s planning.
“Hey Sam?”
“Yeah?
“Metamorphosis is taking place in Miami right? As in Florida?”
“Yeah…so?”
“I’m a little confused then as to why you bought us plane tickets to LA. It’s on the other side of the country and I didn’t think we could afford to do the tourist thing.”
“I’ve got us sorted, don’t panic.” And knowing Sam this worried Dean immensely. A feeling that only grew as Sam led his friend to a car yard not far from LAX where his grand scheme was unveiled, much to Dean’s horror.
“What the hell did you do?!” he asked incredulously, as Sam stood, proud as punch, beside their new mode of transportation. A retro-fitted 1967 Chevrolet Impala. “Do we even have the money for this?”
“You worry way too much. If cash becomes a major problem, we’ll just hit up Vegas.” Ignoring what was wrong with Sam’s plan to get rich, which was practically everything, Dean tried to quickly calculate the logistics in his head. It would take a few days, give or take, to make the trip out to Miami. In theory they had the time.
Releasing a long, drawn out sigh Dean resigned himself to yet again tag along for Sam’s ride. Perhaps Sam was right, perhaps Dean did worry too much. Again not something Dean would ever admit.
“Alright, fine. Road trip it is. On one condition.”
“Oh?”
“You will not play ‘Wayward Son’. Ever! Otherwise I’m kicking you out the car and you can walk the rest of the way.”
“You drive a hard bargain.”
And with that Sam and Dean hit the long road that eagerly awaited them…
---
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
It had been several days of driving and still Interstate 40 stretched out ever onward, toward the foreign horizon. Despite the stop overs you’d expect for such an ambitious coast-to-coast journey the two felt like they had made excellent time and had pulled over to watch the sunrise over Texas. Sam Braxton relaxed on the bonnet of his new car, arms folded behind his head. With a smile a sudden realisation dawned.
“Hey Dean?”
“Yeah? What’s up?” Dean answered from the passenger seat, looking through his emails. The card for the IWF pay-per-view had arrived.
“You realise this moment is like a perfect representation of us and our new goal.”
“How so?”
“Well we got us, solitary figures on a long open road, driving into the horizon as the sun rises. You know, like new beginnings and marching on to face the unknown and all that pseudo-romantic crap. It’s almost inspirational.”
“Don’t think too hard, you’ll do yourself an injury.”
“You know you couldn’t plan a moment like this. It’s perfect. In fact, I just got an idea.”
“I’ve had to suffer enough with your brilliant ideas thank you very much.”
“No, no. I’ve figured out what we should be called. The Lost Boys.”
“Hmmm. The Lost Boys…I kinda like it. Has a nice ring to it. Though I never did see that movie.”
“What? I should slap you silly for such blasphemy.”
“That will have to wait. The card for Metamorphosis is up. And we’re on.”
“Oh? Who we got?”
“An odd team up between a guy named Leon Black and “The Underdog” Will Peterson.” At that announcement Sam couldn’t help himself and released a derisive snort. “Wait hold that thought.” Dean said and shifted from his seat, producing a compact amcorder. “Until we can make use of the company’s resources we gotta make do. I’ll send this through once we’ve said our piece.”
“Good idea Dean. We’ll give them a little teaser. Something they can all talk about.” The camera was set up on the roof of the Impala and positioned in a way to catch both men, standing side by side and a fraction of the rising sun behind them. With a mutual nod the camera started to roll.
Down to business.
“Hello IWF. No you didn’t just accidentally switch channels to an episode of Neighbours.”
“And no you won’t know who we are. But whether you like it or not, we are about to change that.”
“In a most profound way.”
“My name is Dean Coulter.”
“And mine is Sam Braxton. But together we go by a different name. We are the Lost Boys.”
“But don’t be fooled by the name. We may be displaced, your resident fishes out of water so to speak, but we are well aware of where we are going and what we are doing.”
“We are burdened with glorious purpose. Our debut is only days away, in a match at Metamorphosis. You don’t realise it but that name has never before been so poignant. Come the pay-per-view your promotion, and frankly the industry as a whole, will be forever changed. Transformed when Dean and I step into the ring in Miami and rock your world with what we are capable of.”
“We may be no-names, from a no-name country when it comes to the wrestling business, but underestimate us at your peril. That’s what brings us to your tawdry country in the first place. We are here to make a name for yourselves, forge a legacy and ignite a revolution! And we are prepared to pull out all the stops to do just that.”
“Starting with this discordant mixing of Leon Black and “The Underdog” Will Peterson.”
“A little disappointing IWF. You lack a serious tag-team division and those two are the best you could come up with? We get it. Why put in the effort for a pair of unknown Aussies?”
“Leon Black, a guy so edgy he’s a hectogon. And that’s like…ah…”
“One hundred…”
“One hundred edges! I mean come on! Trying for that unhinged, dark and broody, violence monger shtick. Yawn. “Why So Serious?” Here. Allow me to let you in on a little secret Leon mate, we’ve endured the worst of Australian summers. If we can shrug THAT off, then we can certainly deal with whatever you think you can dish out. Though don’t get me wrong, Dean and I also enjoy a good beat down. But we’re not your average IWF competitors, we’re not here to just win. We’re here to be noticed! To instigate a drastic shift in the status quo. So I think it would be best Leon if YOU take note of what’s about to happen with this one.”
“Then we move on to the British Box Terrier. A guy named Will Peterson. Now I want to say straight off the bat that I can appreciate Will’s style. We share the same…regard for this country. You and us, Will, we know the truth. We see the light. But the rest of the world, for some reason, they all think that America is the top of the food chain, the big guy on campus. So to make it anywhere, you gotta make it here. It has to be one of the true travesties of the world. This is what we hope to change. And I get where you’re coming from, I do, dissatisfaction from trudging around the backwater indies back home, but for some reason you think just cause you some years of experience under your belt that you should be given the top spot right from the word go. I don’t know, maybe it’s the colonial in me but that really grinds my gears.”
“It’s clear you got a chip on your shoulder the size of the Grand Canyon but it’s a dog-eat-dog world in this business and we’re not going to sit and roll over at anyone’s beck and call. Forget what you’ve heard about it not being about the size of the dog, but the size of the fight in the dog. It’s absolute crap. And we’ll prove it come Metamorphosis.”
“We recognise you already managed to gain some wins in your two weeks with the IWF, that’s not to be laughed at. But you are stepping into a different kind of match, a tag-team match.”
“Dean and I have wrestled together as a team for most of our careers and through those years we’ve perfected a sense of harmony and synchronicity. Can you truly say the same about you and Leon Black, a guy you faced only last week?”
“Before we leave you, we just want to assure the two of you that this is nothing personal. We’re not doubting your abilities, nor your drive, that would be foolhardy. We don’t really know you.”
“Nor do we care.”
“But when we compare the two of you, to guys like us…It just seems natural that you’d fall a little short of the mark. You are the first obstacle that stands in our way and we will not let anyone prevent us from reaching our goals. Sometimes, Leon and Will, you have to get a little lost to find out who you really are.
"
And with that they cut the camera feed and resumed their journey into the great unknown...
“Good morning passengers of United Airlines Flight UA840 to Los Angeles, your flight is now boarding. Please have your boarding passes ready and have a safe trip.”
It was a familiar scene; one we were all accustomed to. You could even go so far as to say it was a bit cliché. But the fact was few scenes fit as a perfect metaphor for transition and taking that bold first step towards a new journey in life than the chaotic boarding of passengers at an international airport terminal.
A large swath of passengers ambled in line to board the estimated 14 hour United Airlines flight direct from Sydney’s International Airport to LAX in Los Angeles, California. It was 10.45am the morning of Monday the 23rd and among the throng were Sam Braxton and Dean Coulter, though they had yet to join the line. Much to Sam’s chagrin, who danced the dance of the restless and anxious, fidgeting on the spot as he waited for Dean to finish his heartfelt goodbyes to his girlfriend, an attractive dark haired woman named Lisa.
“Come one guys! Just hurry it up already!” Sam whinged, interrupting the couples’ romantic embrace. Lisa shot Sam an impish smile.
“You’re just jealous.”
“If you wanted in on the action you should just say so.” Dean added and received a stiff elbow from Lisa.
“Dude, don’t make it weird. Well any weirder than it already is having to watch you two lock lips.”
“Then go and save me a spot in line.”
With a roll of the eyes and a humph Sam did just that, leaving Dean and Lisa to wrap up their farewell.
“Are you sure about this? It’s been a while. And what with Bobby…” Lisa asked, concern clear in her eyes.
“We’ll be fine.”
“I’m not worried about Sam. Just you.”
“I’m sure he’ll appreciate the sentiment.”
“I’m serious Dean.”
“So am I. We know what we are doing. It hasn’t been that long in the grand scheme of things. And this is what we do. We live for it. Relish it. It was bound to happen sooner or later.”
“If you’re sure.” She said in resignation, and Dean's response was a heartfelt smile.
“We’r-I’M sure. I’d better join him before he gets bored and does something stupid. Don’t worry I’ll call you and come back to visit often. I love you.”
“Love you too superstar.”
And with that Dean finished his goodbyes with a kiss and joined Sam in the line-up.
It took a few moments but they eventually had their boarding passes scanned and motioned through the gate. Dean paused briefly, turning back to look at Lisa and everything that was behind him. Truth be told he wasn’t as sure and confident about things as he made himself out to be. It felt wrong, they had always been a team of 3, and Dean’s mind was full of doubts and apprehension.
It had all happened much too fast; their sudden decision to get back into the game, quite possibly influenced by alcohol and a meeting with former talent Kyle Martin who referred them to the well renowned company, the IWF, aka Imperial Wrestling Federation. From there was a bit of research, mostly done by Dean and a series of phone calls and Skype sessions with IWF’s director of talent. In the blink of an eye Sam and Dean were boarding a plane to the states. Dean turned back to Sam, his closest and dearest friend who felt more akin to a brother. Sam looked back quizzically. His determination and excitement had been obvious and palpable, there was no denying that Sam wanted this, and badly. With a breath Dean quashed the nagging doubts running through his mind, after all he wasn’t doing it for himself, he was also doing it for Sam. They were in this together and that accounted for everything.
“Shall we?” Sam asked, inviting Dean to take point.
“We shall.”
“Oh boy, America won’t know what hit them.”
“And what of the IWF?”
“They are going to cop it worse, and by the end they are going to thank us for it.” Dean smiled at Sam, his excitement had a way of rubbing off and as much as Lisa would give Sam a hard time it was often said they brought out the best of each other. Not that Dean would ever admit that.
No, there was no backing down now. It was time to move on.
They were once a formidable trio, but together they would carve a new path and become an even greater duo. Of this they were certain.
---
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Ah the glory of time zones. By Australian time when Sam Braxton and Dean Coulter arrived in Los Angeles, California it was 1.30 in the morning of Tuesday the 24th. Whereas the local time was 6.30am Monday the 23rd.
Stepping foot onto the terminal in LAX it took considerable restraint for Dean not to fall to his knees and kiss the floor. Being stuck inside a plane for roughly 14 hours with an over-excited and over-stimulated Sam Braxton was a form of tortured you wouldn’t wish on even the most deplorable of war criminals. An iPad with archived IWF shows, matches and promos had mitigated the behaviour somewhat. May as well use the time productively and all.
However, as the two went through the motions of customs and luggage retrieval there was something else on Dean’s mind. An oversight into Sam’s planning.
“Hey Sam?”
“Yeah?
“Metamorphosis is taking place in Miami right? As in Florida?”
“Yeah…so?”
“I’m a little confused then as to why you bought us plane tickets to LA. It’s on the other side of the country and I didn’t think we could afford to do the tourist thing.”
“I’ve got us sorted, don’t panic.” And knowing Sam this worried Dean immensely. A feeling that only grew as Sam led his friend to a car yard not far from LAX where his grand scheme was unveiled, much to Dean’s horror.
“What the hell did you do?!” he asked incredulously, as Sam stood, proud as punch, beside their new mode of transportation. A retro-fitted 1967 Chevrolet Impala. “Do we even have the money for this?”
“You worry way too much. If cash becomes a major problem, we’ll just hit up Vegas.” Ignoring what was wrong with Sam’s plan to get rich, which was practically everything, Dean tried to quickly calculate the logistics in his head. It would take a few days, give or take, to make the trip out to Miami. In theory they had the time.
Releasing a long, drawn out sigh Dean resigned himself to yet again tag along for Sam’s ride. Perhaps Sam was right, perhaps Dean did worry too much. Again not something Dean would ever admit.
“Alright, fine. Road trip it is. On one condition.”
“Oh?”
“You will not play ‘Wayward Son’. Ever! Otherwise I’m kicking you out the car and you can walk the rest of the way.”
“You drive a hard bargain.”
And with that Sam and Dean hit the long road that eagerly awaited them…
---
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
It had been several days of driving and still Interstate 40 stretched out ever onward, toward the foreign horizon. Despite the stop overs you’d expect for such an ambitious coast-to-coast journey the two felt like they had made excellent time and had pulled over to watch the sunrise over Texas. Sam Braxton relaxed on the bonnet of his new car, arms folded behind his head. With a smile a sudden realisation dawned.
“Hey Dean?”
“Yeah? What’s up?” Dean answered from the passenger seat, looking through his emails. The card for the IWF pay-per-view had arrived.
“You realise this moment is like a perfect representation of us and our new goal.”
“How so?”
“Well we got us, solitary figures on a long open road, driving into the horizon as the sun rises. You know, like new beginnings and marching on to face the unknown and all that pseudo-romantic crap. It’s almost inspirational.”
“Don’t think too hard, you’ll do yourself an injury.”
“You know you couldn’t plan a moment like this. It’s perfect. In fact, I just got an idea.”
“I’ve had to suffer enough with your brilliant ideas thank you very much.”
“No, no. I’ve figured out what we should be called. The Lost Boys.”
“Hmmm. The Lost Boys…I kinda like it. Has a nice ring to it. Though I never did see that movie.”
“What? I should slap you silly for such blasphemy.”
“That will have to wait. The card for Metamorphosis is up. And we’re on.”
“Oh? Who we got?”
“An odd team up between a guy named Leon Black and “The Underdog” Will Peterson.” At that announcement Sam couldn’t help himself and released a derisive snort. “Wait hold that thought.” Dean said and shifted from his seat, producing a compact amcorder. “Until we can make use of the company’s resources we gotta make do. I’ll send this through once we’ve said our piece.”
“Good idea Dean. We’ll give them a little teaser. Something they can all talk about.” The camera was set up on the roof of the Impala and positioned in a way to catch both men, standing side by side and a fraction of the rising sun behind them. With a mutual nod the camera started to roll.
Down to business.
“Hello IWF. No you didn’t just accidentally switch channels to an episode of Neighbours.”
“And no you won’t know who we are. But whether you like it or not, we are about to change that.”
“In a most profound way.”
“My name is Dean Coulter.”
“And mine is Sam Braxton. But together we go by a different name. We are the Lost Boys.”
“But don’t be fooled by the name. We may be displaced, your resident fishes out of water so to speak, but we are well aware of where we are going and what we are doing.”
“We are burdened with glorious purpose. Our debut is only days away, in a match at Metamorphosis. You don’t realise it but that name has never before been so poignant. Come the pay-per-view your promotion, and frankly the industry as a whole, will be forever changed. Transformed when Dean and I step into the ring in Miami and rock your world with what we are capable of.”
“We may be no-names, from a no-name country when it comes to the wrestling business, but underestimate us at your peril. That’s what brings us to your tawdry country in the first place. We are here to make a name for yourselves, forge a legacy and ignite a revolution! And we are prepared to pull out all the stops to do just that.”
“Starting with this discordant mixing of Leon Black and “The Underdog” Will Peterson.”
“A little disappointing IWF. You lack a serious tag-team division and those two are the best you could come up with? We get it. Why put in the effort for a pair of unknown Aussies?”
“Leon Black, a guy so edgy he’s a hectogon. And that’s like…ah…”
“One hundred…”
“One hundred edges! I mean come on! Trying for that unhinged, dark and broody, violence monger shtick. Yawn. “Why So Serious?” Here. Allow me to let you in on a little secret Leon mate, we’ve endured the worst of Australian summers. If we can shrug THAT off, then we can certainly deal with whatever you think you can dish out. Though don’t get me wrong, Dean and I also enjoy a good beat down. But we’re not your average IWF competitors, we’re not here to just win. We’re here to be noticed! To instigate a drastic shift in the status quo. So I think it would be best Leon if YOU take note of what’s about to happen with this one.”
“Then we move on to the British Box Terrier. A guy named Will Peterson. Now I want to say straight off the bat that I can appreciate Will’s style. We share the same…regard for this country. You and us, Will, we know the truth. We see the light. But the rest of the world, for some reason, they all think that America is the top of the food chain, the big guy on campus. So to make it anywhere, you gotta make it here. It has to be one of the true travesties of the world. This is what we hope to change. And I get where you’re coming from, I do, dissatisfaction from trudging around the backwater indies back home, but for some reason you think just cause you some years of experience under your belt that you should be given the top spot right from the word go. I don’t know, maybe it’s the colonial in me but that really grinds my gears.”
“It’s clear you got a chip on your shoulder the size of the Grand Canyon but it’s a dog-eat-dog world in this business and we’re not going to sit and roll over at anyone’s beck and call. Forget what you’ve heard about it not being about the size of the dog, but the size of the fight in the dog. It’s absolute crap. And we’ll prove it come Metamorphosis.”
“We recognise you already managed to gain some wins in your two weeks with the IWF, that’s not to be laughed at. But you are stepping into a different kind of match, a tag-team match.”
“Dean and I have wrestled together as a team for most of our careers and through those years we’ve perfected a sense of harmony and synchronicity. Can you truly say the same about you and Leon Black, a guy you faced only last week?”
“Before we leave you, we just want to assure the two of you that this is nothing personal. We’re not doubting your abilities, nor your drive, that would be foolhardy. We don’t really know you.”
“Nor do we care.”
“But when we compare the two of you, to guys like us…It just seems natural that you’d fall a little short of the mark. You are the first obstacle that stands in our way and we will not let anyone prevent us from reaching our goals. Sometimes, Leon and Will, you have to get a little lost to find out who you really are.
"
And with that they cut the camera feed and resumed their journey into the great unknown...
Well howdy there pardner.