Post by TheLostBoys on May 28, 2017 6:08:24 GMT
Dean Coulter watched as Sam Braxton left their room at the Nationwide Hotel with barely an acknowledgement. Dean shrugged it off, it was a common occurrence since their attempted conversation in the car on the drive to Columbus. Dean didn't know how to feel about it. On one hand the appreciated the space, understanding he probably wasn't the easiest guy to deal with currently. But on the other hand he had hoped Sam might have put up more of a fight for him, considering their history. But then again that wasn't Sam's way. His upbringing and his background was not the most conducive to an emotionally healthy individual. And with Dean in his current state Sam had little support. Sufficed to say, though the Lost Boys could put up a convincing front in front of the camera or in the ring, the truth was they were not in a strong position.
"Oh the irony. We are facing what is probably our greatest opportunity and the Lost Boys are mere moments away from a most spectacular fall." Dean muttered to himself, falling back onto his bed. On the bedside table was a recently emptied bottle of pre-mix Johnny Walker and Cola from the hotel room's drinks fridge. Dean was already feeling the urge for another.
There was a time when Sam and Dean would have been willing to do anything and everything for each other. The idea of turning against one another would never have crossed Dean's mind. But now...Now he wasn't so sure, and the Joker in the Pack Ladder Match was just a dangerous temptation for the chip on Sam's shoulder. Not for the first (or last time) Dean lamented over their good ole days, days before they came to the IWF, the proverbial Devil on their Backs.
Burdened by nostalgia Dean produced his phone, wherein he was once again confronted by a series of missed calls and text messages from his girlfriend, Lisa. It took considerable effort but he forced himself to dial up her number. Unsurprisingly it rang out to voice-mail, differing time-zones was a real bitch after all, so he had to be content in leaving a voicemail message.
“Hi…It’s Dean. Obviously. Um. I know I have been the world biggest jerk lately. But I promise I’ll make everything better again. It’s going to take a lot of work. I know that. But I can fix this. I-I’m sorry.”
*Click*
He would eventually have to deal with that properly. But at the very least he could try and not drag everyone else down with him. With phone, still in hand Dean opened a folder of images of a bygone age. When the Lost Boys had been a well received and respected trio in their home country and they had wrestled more for the love and fun of the profession, instead of a dogged crusade doomed to fail.
Those were the days.
As they say, drastic times call for drastic measures...
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The camera buzzes to life to show the familiar darkened room with the two back-to-back chairs. This time however the camera has changed its angle and has Dean Coulter in full view, the dim light shining down on him and leaving Sam Braxton in the darkness.
"Just when you all thought our solo promos were becoming common place Sam and I decided to oppose the pull of the powers-at-be hell bent on trying to tear us apart. To break and humiliate us for daring to speak out against their visions, or lack thereof, for the future. So instead we came up with this little piece of film art. We sit here to speak to you today, together, to prove our position as a united front, despite the stipulations of our match at Night of Immortals focusing more on the achievements and opportunities of the individual. We remain a team. Which presents a unique position in regards to the Joker in the Pack. Devlin, Will, Ryan and Derek. You are hoping to climb up the ladder, both proverbial and literal, desperately grasping for the promise of the coveted championship belt. You fight only for yourself and thus find yourself surrounded by enemies. For the Lost Boys this is a promise of our eventual ascension. If either one of us can pull victory from your clawing grasps then we shall hold onto this promise until such time we force the IWF to introduce a tag-team title and then we shall hav them around our waists. Where they truly belong. This of course proves dual purpose. Victory for Sam or Dean means we deny, each and every one of you, a prize you do not yet deserve. Ever the passionate one Sam has spoken out about each one of our obstacles we need to overcome at Night of the Immortals…The name says it all really. At the end of the pay-per-view the Lost Boys will have at last immortalised ourselves into the IWF history books.”
“So how do I follow the ever-passionate words of my compatriot? What could I possibly say about my opponents that hasn’t already been said…Well first off I’m not going to let my personal feelings for James Gilmore cloud my judgement. He may yet prove a problem but as he is not a factor in this match he will get no further mention from me. So Ohio, shall I begin?”
“Will Fennell. I question your decision to step out on your own. But it is your prerogative. I just hope you do not come to regret it. I may not have the same level of vehemence directed towards you, but I would be very remiss in my mission if I were to allow you a victory. So I am sorry in advance for what we have to do.”
“Ryan Shane. I can respect the man who wishes to better himself, but you’ve really been thrown into the thick of it since your return. And though I hate to admit it, Sam is right. It’s a harsh lesson to learn. Let alone to cope with. But if you are not willing to change and break your own limitations then you can only climb so high. Perhaps in different circumstances Ryan Shane would take his place upon the pedestal. I can see such potential. But this will not be the case here.”
“Devlin Raine. You probably already realise that your attempt to prevent the inevitable violence of this match was in vain. The opportunity dangling above us is too invaluable for anyone to just step back and let another seize it for themselves. Is this because you are afraid you don’t have what it takes? You feel the Destiny Dealer is not up to the challenge? If so then perhaps you should do YOURSELF a favour and take a step back. You could hold my beer, because I have certainly got this.”
“And to the last. Derek Brooks. I won’t be as quick as Sam to discard you Derek. An unknown enemy always presents itself as a threat. Your preference for verbally berating your opponents brings to mind the adage, ‘You can talk to talk, but can you walk the walk?’. Night of the Immortals will be a good chance for you to prove, without a doubt, that you can. But keep in mind that no matter where you turn there will be someone there to stop you. Least of all Sam and myself. To drag you down and keep you from ever rising. That is what has been happening to the Lost Boys ever since we arrived. So I can not stress enough to Derek, Will, Ryan and Devlin that Sam and I are still very much fighting for one-another, as difficult as that may be to comprehend. For me, Night of the Immortals is make, or break. There will be no turning back from here on in. I had felt like Sam and I were stumbling without any direction, without anything to fight for since we started. At last that changes. And change is what is needed now. We have something indelible to bring the abstract into the realm of the real. And we are not about to let it slip from our fingers.”
"Oh the irony. We are facing what is probably our greatest opportunity and the Lost Boys are mere moments away from a most spectacular fall." Dean muttered to himself, falling back onto his bed. On the bedside table was a recently emptied bottle of pre-mix Johnny Walker and Cola from the hotel room's drinks fridge. Dean was already feeling the urge for another.
There was a time when Sam and Dean would have been willing to do anything and everything for each other. The idea of turning against one another would never have crossed Dean's mind. But now...Now he wasn't so sure, and the Joker in the Pack Ladder Match was just a dangerous temptation for the chip on Sam's shoulder. Not for the first (or last time) Dean lamented over their good ole days, days before they came to the IWF, the proverbial Devil on their Backs.
Burdened by nostalgia Dean produced his phone, wherein he was once again confronted by a series of missed calls and text messages from his girlfriend, Lisa. It took considerable effort but he forced himself to dial up her number. Unsurprisingly it rang out to voice-mail, differing time-zones was a real bitch after all, so he had to be content in leaving a voicemail message.
“Hi…It’s Dean. Obviously. Um. I know I have been the world biggest jerk lately. But I promise I’ll make everything better again. It’s going to take a lot of work. I know that. But I can fix this. I-I’m sorry.”
*Click*
He would eventually have to deal with that properly. But at the very least he could try and not drag everyone else down with him. With phone, still in hand Dean opened a folder of images of a bygone age. When the Lost Boys had been a well received and respected trio in their home country and they had wrestled more for the love and fun of the profession, instead of a dogged crusade doomed to fail.
Those were the days.
As they say, drastic times call for drastic measures...
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The camera buzzes to life to show the familiar darkened room with the two back-to-back chairs. This time however the camera has changed its angle and has Dean Coulter in full view, the dim light shining down on him and leaving Sam Braxton in the darkness.
"Just when you all thought our solo promos were becoming common place Sam and I decided to oppose the pull of the powers-at-be hell bent on trying to tear us apart. To break and humiliate us for daring to speak out against their visions, or lack thereof, for the future. So instead we came up with this little piece of film art. We sit here to speak to you today, together, to prove our position as a united front, despite the stipulations of our match at Night of Immortals focusing more on the achievements and opportunities of the individual. We remain a team. Which presents a unique position in regards to the Joker in the Pack. Devlin, Will, Ryan and Derek. You are hoping to climb up the ladder, both proverbial and literal, desperately grasping for the promise of the coveted championship belt. You fight only for yourself and thus find yourself surrounded by enemies. For the Lost Boys this is a promise of our eventual ascension. If either one of us can pull victory from your clawing grasps then we shall hold onto this promise until such time we force the IWF to introduce a tag-team title and then we shall hav them around our waists. Where they truly belong. This of course proves dual purpose. Victory for Sam or Dean means we deny, each and every one of you, a prize you do not yet deserve. Ever the passionate one Sam has spoken out about each one of our obstacles we need to overcome at Night of the Immortals…The name says it all really. At the end of the pay-per-view the Lost Boys will have at last immortalised ourselves into the IWF history books.”
“So how do I follow the ever-passionate words of my compatriot? What could I possibly say about my opponents that hasn’t already been said…Well first off I’m not going to let my personal feelings for James Gilmore cloud my judgement. He may yet prove a problem but as he is not a factor in this match he will get no further mention from me. So Ohio, shall I begin?”
“Will Fennell. I question your decision to step out on your own. But it is your prerogative. I just hope you do not come to regret it. I may not have the same level of vehemence directed towards you, but I would be very remiss in my mission if I were to allow you a victory. So I am sorry in advance for what we have to do.”
“Ryan Shane. I can respect the man who wishes to better himself, but you’ve really been thrown into the thick of it since your return. And though I hate to admit it, Sam is right. It’s a harsh lesson to learn. Let alone to cope with. But if you are not willing to change and break your own limitations then you can only climb so high. Perhaps in different circumstances Ryan Shane would take his place upon the pedestal. I can see such potential. But this will not be the case here.”
“Devlin Raine. You probably already realise that your attempt to prevent the inevitable violence of this match was in vain. The opportunity dangling above us is too invaluable for anyone to just step back and let another seize it for themselves. Is this because you are afraid you don’t have what it takes? You feel the Destiny Dealer is not up to the challenge? If so then perhaps you should do YOURSELF a favour and take a step back. You could hold my beer, because I have certainly got this.”
“And to the last. Derek Brooks. I won’t be as quick as Sam to discard you Derek. An unknown enemy always presents itself as a threat. Your preference for verbally berating your opponents brings to mind the adage, ‘You can talk to talk, but can you walk the walk?’. Night of the Immortals will be a good chance for you to prove, without a doubt, that you can. But keep in mind that no matter where you turn there will be someone there to stop you. Least of all Sam and myself. To drag you down and keep you from ever rising. That is what has been happening to the Lost Boys ever since we arrived. So I can not stress enough to Derek, Will, Ryan and Devlin that Sam and I are still very much fighting for one-another, as difficult as that may be to comprehend. For me, Night of the Immortals is make, or break. There will be no turning back from here on in. I had felt like Sam and I were stumbling without any direction, without anything to fight for since we started. At last that changes. And change is what is needed now. We have something indelible to bring the abstract into the realm of the real. And we are not about to let it slip from our fingers.”
Well howdy there pardner.