Post by TheLostBoys on Apr 23, 2017 8:36:38 GMT
"Crickey! It's those losers!"
"You guys are a joke!"
"Go back to where you belong, you can't kick it with the real boys!"
Such were the comments that haunted Sam Braxton and Dean Coulter since their debut with the IWF. It was more than skepticism, it was vitriol and contempt. The problem was, if you were keeping track of their win/loss record, for all intents and purposes the comments were more than poignant and the Lost Boys had no legs to stand on. But as Dean had (tried) to assure the ever volatile Sam on many of those occasions a tally mark in the win column paled in comparison to the ultimate victory that was to be their grand and final goal. A goal which in truth seemed further and further out of each with each event. As such, even Dean was starting to buckle under the pressure and the constant jibes, on top of his other doubts and concerns.
Sam made his way from the Joe Louise Arena to the Crowne Plaza Hotel where the Lost Boys were staying, the insidious and disparaging platitudes following his every step. Sam did his best to internalise the rage building up at the constant arrogance and disrespect.
"Save it for the Renegades." He would whisper to himself, almost mantra, like until reaching the perceived sanctity of the hotel. He entered the share room to catch the tail-end of a video call between Dean and his partner back home, Lisa.
"It won't get any easier Dean, you need to tell him."
"I know, but-"
"Tell who, what now?"
Dean turned in shock and surprise, like a kid getting caught with his hand in the cookie jar.
"Sam. You're back?" He quickly turned back to the image of Lisa on his computer screen, her expression was one of concern. "I'll call you back, love you, bye." And he abruptly ended the call.
"How's Lisa?"
"She's fine...Say Sam, did you want to head down and grab a drink?"
"Actually you know what, no. Not this time. So what do you have to tell me?"
"Sam-"
"No, don't you dare Sam me! You and Lisa must think I'm some kind of an idiot, thinking I don't notice what's been going on, the changes in you. The changes between US! Well I have noticed. And I've tried desperately to pretend everything is fine, that we're just taking our time to settle and build ourselves up. But that can only go so far. I've tried to do things your way Dean, I really have. But it's not working..."
Dean found himself unsure of what to say. It seemed as if these moments of disharmony were becoming more and more commonplace. Rumour even had it that after their Main Event loss they had been seen leaving separately and going in different directions after an exchange of curt words. Sam took Dean's silence as further affirmation of their current situation.
"Well go on then. Pack your things!"
"What?"
"Go! Leave! Fuck right off back to Australia. After all these years I never would have thought you of all people would turn their back on me. It's what you were planning on telling me after the Pay-per-view anyway. So go. At least you've got Lisa to go back to."
With that Sam turned and stormed out, slamming the door to further emphasise his point and He leaving a stunned Dean Coulter behind in his wake.
Neither Dean or Sam would have realised at the time but this was one of those profound crossroads moments in their lives where the course of their very futures rested on one single decision. Dean looked from the door, to his laptop and then again several times more for good measure before he finally made his oh-so important decision.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"You've reached Sam Braxton, I've missed your call but leave your details and I'll try to call you back." *Click*
"Sam, it's Dean. When you get this please call me back. I get your angry, and probably hurt, but you never gave me a chance to explain myself. C'mon mate, it can't end like this..."
Several agonising days passed with not a word shared between the two friends. It's no secret that Sam was prone to exuberance but never had anything of this dynamic occurred between the two and Dean was beginning to worry. It didn't help that their all important hardcore match against The Renegades was also fast approaching. So as far as Dean was concerned he was operating on a strict deadline to reconcile with Sam if they were to be anywhere near fighting fit for the match. Luckily it was a mere matter of torturous moments before Dean received a reply phone call.
"You want to talk? Fine. Come meet me on the Riverwalk. At least you can say goodbye to my face." *Click*
Evidently Dean had a lot of work ahead of him.
He met up with Sam in the evening, the sun beginning it's slow descend over the horizon, in all its metaphorical imagery. They trekked along the Riverwalk path, starting off in silence.
"I'm not going to sugar coat it. You were right Sam, things are different and yes I was thinking about leaving. Just like you I had come here looking forward to what I had hoped would be an incredible journey. A chance to re-imagine our legacy and show the world our gift, our passion for professional wrestling. But the reality of our situation, of where we now find ourselves has destroyed that. And clearly it nearly destroyed us."
"Can we just cut the crap. If you're not enjoying yourself and want to leave then say so and be done with it."
"You misunderstand me Sam...We've been friends for how long?"
"...Practically our whole lives."
"That's right, more like brothers than friends. And I'm not like the rest of your family Sam. I do not abandon people."
"But all these doubts? These thoughts of leaving? Why didn't you say something sooner?"
"Since we've known each other you have always looked to me as the voice of the reason, the pillar in which to lean on. Habits die hard I guess. The truth is we were foolish to think that we could raise ourselves above the competition the way we were. We are far from Australia and with it all the values and traditions, the image, that we held dear back home. I struggled to reconcile the context in which we now compete in and myself as a professional. With blind hope that we could silence all the insults by proving ourselves better competitors. But it has been all for naught. THAT is why I have had so much trouble lately. It hasn't been about us strictly but more about me. I thought we could achieve by clinging to the past and pushed to you to see and do things my way. In doing so I only pushed you away. And I...I was wrong. I'm sorry."
At that Sam stopped dead in his tracks.
"Wait. Hold up. Let me get my phone so I can record that. Say it again?"
"Come on Sam, this is serious. Don't be a prick."
"Oh alright."
"Do you at least forgive me?"
"So what do you suggest Dean? We deal with the Renegades and then go our separate ways? Save ourselves before we implode further?"
"Far from it Sam. No, I have decided to cede control of the Lost Boys to you. I am letting go of our past so that we may move on to a bigger and better future. From this day forward we do things your way Sam."
"...But..."
"There are no 'buts'. I have thought about this long and hard. About everything. And in this I could not be more sure. So Sam, what do you suggest we do about the Renegades?"
"Well that's simple Dean."
With the biggest and most mischievous smile possible, Sam threw his arm around Dean's shoulder and together they gazes out towards the dusk veiled horizon.
"We are going to beat the living shit out of those pieces of trash and send them on an express lane to the hospital."
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The camera comes to life showing the night sky over Detroit from the vantage point of roughly the centre of the Riverwalk path, running parallel to the Detroit River, into the heart of William G. Milliken State Park and Harbour. The camera shows the back's of Sam and Dean, standing together in a pensive pose, watching the reflections of the stars and moon upon the surface of the river.
"It is strange, is it not, how history seems to have a habit of repeating itself?"
"And as Dean revealed to me, it is strange how, in the process we all seem destined to repeat the mistakes of our pasts."
Together Sam and Dean turn to face the camera and Sam continues speaking.
"This is what, the third time now, we will face the Renegades in an IWF ring? And this time, as we open Motor City Mayhem, we are going to break this twisted cycle of repetition by doing far worse than simply winning over Will and Chris, we are going to beat them. So comprehensively that even their beloved cousins, or sisters, or pet alligators aren't going to want to be anywhere near them! I happily accepted the stipulation of a hardcore match because this has been a long time coming. It didn't even have to be you Renegades, it could have been any other team or combination of superstars who have the gall to look at Dean and I with anything less then the fear, respect and adoration that we deserve! The fact it is you though Renegades is just an added bonus."
"For Sam, this match is going to some much needed catharsis."
"Exactly. I intend to use the benefits of the Hardcore stipulation to the fullest, releasing months of pent up anger and frustration."
"Let us be honest with each other Renegades. What is there really left to say about you two that hasn't already been said? It would be like flogging a dead horse. However there is so much more for us to tell you about the Lost Boys. We crossed oceans to be here because we wanted to bring to the American people a glimmer of hope for the future of the wrestling industry, to show you, the rest of the roster and all the avid fans that there is so much more that awaits you then this inane and torpid excuse of an industry. Sam and I were going to show you there are more talented individuals in the world. You just need to open your god damn eyes beyond your own borders! And I promised myself we would do so as the upright athletes and skilled professionals we composed ourselves as back home. I clung to that image to a fault. In doing so I held Sam and I back from our true potential. It was my own pride and ego that very nearly proved our downfall. Now I see the old adage, "If you can't beat 'em, join 'em" definitely applies."
"Our goal is the same, we still maintain our assertions of superiority, and will until we breathe our last. It is our methodology that has changed. No longer will we constrain ourselves to the ways of the past. No longer shall we be so chained by haunting thoughts of 'what once was'. The Lost Boys are here to make an impact. We are here to be noticed! And we shall do whatever it takes to make sure we leave the arenas every night with our names whispered by all in pure, unadulterated fear and awe."
"Do not think us a force divided. I will admit we were at odds before, our harmony and cohesion jeopardised by differences in ideology and methodology. But no longer! One of those mistakes of the past I will rectify. Sam and I are brothers, both in the arena and out. We have once more reached an accord and are all the more closer for it. We have our differences sure, but in this we are ever united. And together we shall rid the world of the embarrassment that is Will and Chris Fennell!"
"Do you understand us Renegades? No? What did I tell you about using big words Dean?! But here let me say it in a way you will understand...W-E A-R-E G-O-I-N-G T-O K-I-C-K Y-O-U-R U-S-E-L-E-S-S, D-I-R-T-Y, A-R-S-E-S!"
"You do realise Americans speak English right?"
"Yeah. Just; really, really badly."
"...Regardless we have make our intent crystal clear. We now know what it takes and so, before we can elevate you all to be better than you ever thought possible, we must first lower ourselves to your level. We may not enjoy the notion, but it is a necessary evil. And we shall do so, not with an open hand but a fist closed around a steel chair! We shall beat you Renegades at your own game, and then as we leave your motionless forms for the hospital, finally excising ourselves of the Swamp Devils you have turned out to be, our sights shall be firmly on the rest of the IWF. To bigger and much better things."
"Take note; If you aren't prepared to give us the recognition and prestige we are owed, then we shall take it, tearing it from the hands of all the bodies we shall leave in our wake!"
"Our road may go ever onward,"
"But for you Renegades, your road ends here!"
"You guys are a joke!"
"Go back to where you belong, you can't kick it with the real boys!"
Such were the comments that haunted Sam Braxton and Dean Coulter since their debut with the IWF. It was more than skepticism, it was vitriol and contempt. The problem was, if you were keeping track of their win/loss record, for all intents and purposes the comments were more than poignant and the Lost Boys had no legs to stand on. But as Dean had (tried) to assure the ever volatile Sam on many of those occasions a tally mark in the win column paled in comparison to the ultimate victory that was to be their grand and final goal. A goal which in truth seemed further and further out of each with each event. As such, even Dean was starting to buckle under the pressure and the constant jibes, on top of his other doubts and concerns.
Sam made his way from the Joe Louise Arena to the Crowne Plaza Hotel where the Lost Boys were staying, the insidious and disparaging platitudes following his every step. Sam did his best to internalise the rage building up at the constant arrogance and disrespect.
"Save it for the Renegades." He would whisper to himself, almost mantra, like until reaching the perceived sanctity of the hotel. He entered the share room to catch the tail-end of a video call between Dean and his partner back home, Lisa.
"It won't get any easier Dean, you need to tell him."
"I know, but-"
"Tell who, what now?"
Dean turned in shock and surprise, like a kid getting caught with his hand in the cookie jar.
"Sam. You're back?" He quickly turned back to the image of Lisa on his computer screen, her expression was one of concern. "I'll call you back, love you, bye." And he abruptly ended the call.
"How's Lisa?"
"She's fine...Say Sam, did you want to head down and grab a drink?"
"Actually you know what, no. Not this time. So what do you have to tell me?"
"Sam-"
"No, don't you dare Sam me! You and Lisa must think I'm some kind of an idiot, thinking I don't notice what's been going on, the changes in you. The changes between US! Well I have noticed. And I've tried desperately to pretend everything is fine, that we're just taking our time to settle and build ourselves up. But that can only go so far. I've tried to do things your way Dean, I really have. But it's not working..."
Dean found himself unsure of what to say. It seemed as if these moments of disharmony were becoming more and more commonplace. Rumour even had it that after their Main Event loss they had been seen leaving separately and going in different directions after an exchange of curt words. Sam took Dean's silence as further affirmation of their current situation.
"Well go on then. Pack your things!"
"What?"
"Go! Leave! Fuck right off back to Australia. After all these years I never would have thought you of all people would turn their back on me. It's what you were planning on telling me after the Pay-per-view anyway. So go. At least you've got Lisa to go back to."
With that Sam turned and stormed out, slamming the door to further emphasise his point and He leaving a stunned Dean Coulter behind in his wake.
Neither Dean or Sam would have realised at the time but this was one of those profound crossroads moments in their lives where the course of their very futures rested on one single decision. Dean looked from the door, to his laptop and then again several times more for good measure before he finally made his oh-so important decision.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"You've reached Sam Braxton, I've missed your call but leave your details and I'll try to call you back." *Click*
"Sam, it's Dean. When you get this please call me back. I get your angry, and probably hurt, but you never gave me a chance to explain myself. C'mon mate, it can't end like this..."
Several agonising days passed with not a word shared between the two friends. It's no secret that Sam was prone to exuberance but never had anything of this dynamic occurred between the two and Dean was beginning to worry. It didn't help that their all important hardcore match against The Renegades was also fast approaching. So as far as Dean was concerned he was operating on a strict deadline to reconcile with Sam if they were to be anywhere near fighting fit for the match. Luckily it was a mere matter of torturous moments before Dean received a reply phone call.
"You want to talk? Fine. Come meet me on the Riverwalk. At least you can say goodbye to my face." *Click*
Evidently Dean had a lot of work ahead of him.
He met up with Sam in the evening, the sun beginning it's slow descend over the horizon, in all its metaphorical imagery. They trekked along the Riverwalk path, starting off in silence.
"I'm not going to sugar coat it. You were right Sam, things are different and yes I was thinking about leaving. Just like you I had come here looking forward to what I had hoped would be an incredible journey. A chance to re-imagine our legacy and show the world our gift, our passion for professional wrestling. But the reality of our situation, of where we now find ourselves has destroyed that. And clearly it nearly destroyed us."
"Can we just cut the crap. If you're not enjoying yourself and want to leave then say so and be done with it."
"You misunderstand me Sam...We've been friends for how long?"
"...Practically our whole lives."
"That's right, more like brothers than friends. And I'm not like the rest of your family Sam. I do not abandon people."
"But all these doubts? These thoughts of leaving? Why didn't you say something sooner?"
"Since we've known each other you have always looked to me as the voice of the reason, the pillar in which to lean on. Habits die hard I guess. The truth is we were foolish to think that we could raise ourselves above the competition the way we were. We are far from Australia and with it all the values and traditions, the image, that we held dear back home. I struggled to reconcile the context in which we now compete in and myself as a professional. With blind hope that we could silence all the insults by proving ourselves better competitors. But it has been all for naught. THAT is why I have had so much trouble lately. It hasn't been about us strictly but more about me. I thought we could achieve by clinging to the past and pushed to you to see and do things my way. In doing so I only pushed you away. And I...I was wrong. I'm sorry."
At that Sam stopped dead in his tracks.
"Wait. Hold up. Let me get my phone so I can record that. Say it again?"
"Come on Sam, this is serious. Don't be a prick."
"Oh alright."
"Do you at least forgive me?"
"So what do you suggest Dean? We deal with the Renegades and then go our separate ways? Save ourselves before we implode further?"
"Far from it Sam. No, I have decided to cede control of the Lost Boys to you. I am letting go of our past so that we may move on to a bigger and better future. From this day forward we do things your way Sam."
"...But..."
"There are no 'buts'. I have thought about this long and hard. About everything. And in this I could not be more sure. So Sam, what do you suggest we do about the Renegades?"
"Well that's simple Dean."
With the biggest and most mischievous smile possible, Sam threw his arm around Dean's shoulder and together they gazes out towards the dusk veiled horizon.
"We are going to beat the living shit out of those pieces of trash and send them on an express lane to the hospital."
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The camera comes to life showing the night sky over Detroit from the vantage point of roughly the centre of the Riverwalk path, running parallel to the Detroit River, into the heart of William G. Milliken State Park and Harbour. The camera shows the back's of Sam and Dean, standing together in a pensive pose, watching the reflections of the stars and moon upon the surface of the river.
"It is strange, is it not, how history seems to have a habit of repeating itself?"
"And as Dean revealed to me, it is strange how, in the process we all seem destined to repeat the mistakes of our pasts."
Together Sam and Dean turn to face the camera and Sam continues speaking.
"This is what, the third time now, we will face the Renegades in an IWF ring? And this time, as we open Motor City Mayhem, we are going to break this twisted cycle of repetition by doing far worse than simply winning over Will and Chris, we are going to beat them. So comprehensively that even their beloved cousins, or sisters, or pet alligators aren't going to want to be anywhere near them! I happily accepted the stipulation of a hardcore match because this has been a long time coming. It didn't even have to be you Renegades, it could have been any other team or combination of superstars who have the gall to look at Dean and I with anything less then the fear, respect and adoration that we deserve! The fact it is you though Renegades is just an added bonus."
"For Sam, this match is going to some much needed catharsis."
"Exactly. I intend to use the benefits of the Hardcore stipulation to the fullest, releasing months of pent up anger and frustration."
"Let us be honest with each other Renegades. What is there really left to say about you two that hasn't already been said? It would be like flogging a dead horse. However there is so much more for us to tell you about the Lost Boys. We crossed oceans to be here because we wanted to bring to the American people a glimmer of hope for the future of the wrestling industry, to show you, the rest of the roster and all the avid fans that there is so much more that awaits you then this inane and torpid excuse of an industry. Sam and I were going to show you there are more talented individuals in the world. You just need to open your god damn eyes beyond your own borders! And I promised myself we would do so as the upright athletes and skilled professionals we composed ourselves as back home. I clung to that image to a fault. In doing so I held Sam and I back from our true potential. It was my own pride and ego that very nearly proved our downfall. Now I see the old adage, "If you can't beat 'em, join 'em" definitely applies."
"Our goal is the same, we still maintain our assertions of superiority, and will until we breathe our last. It is our methodology that has changed. No longer will we constrain ourselves to the ways of the past. No longer shall we be so chained by haunting thoughts of 'what once was'. The Lost Boys are here to make an impact. We are here to be noticed! And we shall do whatever it takes to make sure we leave the arenas every night with our names whispered by all in pure, unadulterated fear and awe."
"Do not think us a force divided. I will admit we were at odds before, our harmony and cohesion jeopardised by differences in ideology and methodology. But no longer! One of those mistakes of the past I will rectify. Sam and I are brothers, both in the arena and out. We have once more reached an accord and are all the more closer for it. We have our differences sure, but in this we are ever united. And together we shall rid the world of the embarrassment that is Will and Chris Fennell!"
"Do you understand us Renegades? No? What did I tell you about using big words Dean?! But here let me say it in a way you will understand...W-E A-R-E G-O-I-N-G T-O K-I-C-K Y-O-U-R U-S-E-L-E-S-S, D-I-R-T-Y, A-R-S-E-S!"
"You do realise Americans speak English right?"
"Yeah. Just; really, really badly."
"...Regardless we have make our intent crystal clear. We now know what it takes and so, before we can elevate you all to be better than you ever thought possible, we must first lower ourselves to your level. We may not enjoy the notion, but it is a necessary evil. And we shall do so, not with an open hand but a fist closed around a steel chair! We shall beat you Renegades at your own game, and then as we leave your motionless forms for the hospital, finally excising ourselves of the Swamp Devils you have turned out to be, our sights shall be firmly on the rest of the IWF. To bigger and much better things."
"Take note; If you aren't prepared to give us the recognition and prestige we are owed, then we shall take it, tearing it from the hands of all the bodies we shall leave in our wake!"
"Our road may go ever onward,"
"But for you Renegades, your road ends here!"
Well howdy there pardner.