Tim Patrick [vs.] Flex Johnson

****The second segment of this RP (phone conversation with Blyss) is as much In Character as it is Out of Character for me. It contains references to childhood sexual abuse and the emotions that it creates later in life. If you were also a victim of abuse and this may trigger you, this is your trigger warning. My character shares similar experiences with my real life self in this regard. It's my way of overcoming my past. I have been questioned about this by some, this is my explanation****





Sunday, May 26, 2013
Los Angeles, California
Staples Center
Backstage at Isolation
10:30PM
~~ON CAMERA~~

Tim Patrick is bloody and battered. After a brutal 3 Stages of Hell match with former friend Sean Libby, he's been staggering around the backstage area. He's removed his trademark black vest, and is trying to find IWF.com cameras because after each match, he always has something to say. Finally after what seems like forever, he finds a camera crew in the parking lot. An ambulance that likely contained Sean Libby sped away with sirens blaring. With sick grin, Tim Patrick turns to the camera and begins to speak.



Tim Patrick:

What did I tell you, Sean?! I told you that this shit would happen, didn't I?! This is what happens when you betray me! This is what happens when you rip out my heart and throw it up against a wall and then stomp on it like you did! I put my ass on the line for you so many times and you threw that friendship and partnership away. You attempted to put me out of action forever so I returned the favor tonight. We call that a receipt in this business and I just paid you back ten fold. Next time you want to make your name off of somebody in a hardcore environment like this, don't look at me. I'm done with you, Sean. You thought I was your stepping stone to greatness, but really, I was your tombstone. Rest in pieces.

Tim wipes some of the blood off his face and sits down on the parking lot pavement.

Tim Patrick:

Now, I have some more important things to do. I have to make things right with my girl. Nothing in my life is more important until I do. Cody, if you're watching...If I can fight and beat Sean Libby like I did tonight, then we can beat anything that comes between us, together. Call me...

~~The Scene Fades~~

Tuesday, May 28, 2013
South Philadelphia, PA
Tim Patrick's Apartment
Ritner Street
9:00 PM
~~OFF CAMERA~~

Tim Patrick has been in Philadelphia for a few hours. Fresh off his win at Isolation, he's not celebrating his big victory. He's worried sick that the possible love of his life, Cody, is going to leave him. Last week in her hotel room in Paris, he revealed to her his past. His IRA involvement shocked her and left her speechless. He hasn't heard from her in several days. For the past few hours, he's been shivering in a cold sweat, ill. The woman who he considers to be his little sister told him to call him after Tim has been posting several upsetting Twitter posts. He picks up his phone and calls her. Two rings later, she picks up.


Blyss Lockhart:

Hey Tim, how are you holding up?

There is great concern in her voice.

Tim Patrick:

I'm scared to death, Blyss...

Blyss Lockhart:

He's not back, is he?! Did he somehow escape Belfast?

Tim Patrick:

It's not Ian, and I'm not afraid of him. But yeah he did leave Belfast and attempt to follow me to America. I got word he was deported back to Belfast. I'm worried about Cody...well...let me explain. I told Cody about my past, she sort of went blank. I think I'm losing her.

Blyss Lockhart:

Oh... Um, Tim, how much of it did you tell her? Heh, not everything, right?

Tim Patrick:

I've never felt this way about a woman. I think I'm in love with her. She....she makes me feel things I've never felt or thought I could feel. I thought that she should know my past. Better it come out in the beginning of our relationship than years down the line, right?

Blyss Lockhart:

Well yeah that's true and it's good that you're willing to let her in like that. But you have to remember that not only does your past affect you but also your relationship with her now. IF you want it to. You've only known her for a little over a month, Tim, and as much as she would appreciate your honesty, you gotta do it slowly. Bit by bit, ya know?

The tone in her voice softens.

Blyss Lockhart:

But I understand why you decided to come clean with your past. It's still a good thing. When you told me that one time, I was shocked and found it hard to hear. Remember? *laughs gently* Look, I don't think you're losing Cody. She might just be a little scared and worried. She just needs a little time to process all of it. That's all. Have you tried calling her?

Tim Patrick:

At her hotel last week, I told her I'd call her the day after Isolation. I called her earlier and got no answer.

Tim breaks down in tears, it's audible over the phone.

Tim Patrick:

Look, it's all so fucked up, Blyss. When I was a kid...and that bastard was touching me, hurting me, abusing me...he told me it was going to be the best I ever got. That nobody would ever love me. That I was garbage, ugly, unworthy of being loved. That I would die alone. That I better keep letting him do what he was doing. I fucking believed him. I really did.

Tim begins coughing and choking through his tears.

Tim Patrick:

Then I grew up and found things to fight for. Things I believed in. Things I'm proud of. I know nobody else really understands why I went to Belfast, but I know what I did was right. I know I was fighting for people who had nobody to fight for them, against all odds. I only hurt people who hurt innocent people. I'm not a bad person for doing what I did there.

His voice gets very low and soft through his tears.

Tim Patrick:

And now, out of the blue, I meet somebody. Somebody's entire existence proves my childhood abuser wrong. I'm afraid that...since she knows my past...maybe that bastard was right.

All the while, Blyss patiently listens and by the end, she herself gets teary eyed. But her voice takes on a more comforting tone.

Blyss Lockhart:

Tim, ever since I've known you, I have never once doubted the goodness of your heart. And when you told me about what you did in Belfast, even more I believe that you're a good person. I may not know what it feels like to have gone through what you did when you were young but just know that that guy is a damn liar. You deserved, and always will, far better than the best thing he could even imagine because he only did that to you to make himself feel less of the piece of shit that he really was. I'm glad to hear that Cody's made you feel that he's wrong because he is. Give her a bit more space. You did nothing wrong. Keep that faith, Tim. Positive thinking work so she WILL call you back. I'm sure of it.

Tim, still in tears, stops talking for a moment, trying to compose himself. It works a little, but he's still a mess.

Tim Patrick:

Blyss, you're the best little sister ever. I'd hug you right now if I could. I just feel so ashamed. I've spent my entire life believing him. I still do. I hate that I do.

Her light tone suggests that she's smiling on the other end of the line.

Blyss Lockhart:

I'll give you the biggest hug when we meet. And no, don't be ashamed. But if you do, remind yourself that you shouldn't, okay? You deserve happiness and nobody can take that away from you, got it? Your life, your rules, big bro.

Tim seems to calm down and takes a deep breath.

Tim Patrick:

I just know that she means the world to me. She told me she's a virgin...I wanted to tell her everything about me. If she thinks I'm a jerk then she doesn't have to have her "first" be a jerk. You know? Everything I have done since meeting her has been for her.

His voice softens, and he cracks a smile.

Tim Patrick:

Blyss, she's amazing. The way she grins at me. The way she talks. The way she moves. The way her body melts when I hold her. The way she laughs when I tickle her. The way she seems so scattered in her thoughts. I mean shit...she works in the ring crew and she's an international model. Who puts up ring ropes one minutes and then poses in a bikini the next? Only her. My entire life is fighting...I'm never at peace with myself...she brings me peace. It's only been a little over a month but I'm positive I love her...

Blyss Lockhart:

(Laughing) Wow you really are, aren't you? Damn Tim, you got it bad! (She pauses for a second) Well… I don't mean to sound non-supportive but don't rush her, okay?

Tim laughs to himself softly.

Tim Patrick:

I wouldn't do that. I'm a lot of things, but one of them is a gentleman. Hell, I have a hard time watching men wrestle women, you know that.

Tim stops, exhales deeply.

Tim Patrick:

Blyss, where have you been all my life? You're really....really great. Sorry if I ever come across as over protective or just flat out insane. (Laughs to himself). You really saved my ass tonight. I was in a dark place. Love ya, kiddo.

Blyss Lockhart:

I love you too, brother. (Laughing) Crazy or not, I know you're only just looking out for me and for that, I truly appreciate it. You have been there for me ever since the whole Empire beat-down and also when I needed advice about anything so here's me being there for you. If you ever need anything, just call me.


Tim Patrick:

Call me when you get to Anaheim for next week. We'll get lunch. I'm gonna go take a shower and go for a walk. I need to clear my head. Thanks again, Blyss.. I'll let you know how this all works out with me and Cody.

He hangs up the phone. But almost instantly, his emotions begin to change. He's clearly in the middle of a mental breakdown.



~~Scene Ends~~


****MEANWHILE, IN BELFAST****
****OFF CAMERA****

A plane has arrived in the suburbs of Belfast. Ian McFadden is on board. In an attempt to hide who is on the plane, he was smuggled in on a plane carrying mail by the British government. Ian has become a very important tool in and a top man in his British paramilitary, the UFV (Ulster Volunteer Force) since Tim Patrick won the High Impact Championship in Belfast. It embarrassed the British government and the UFV. Typically in present day Northern Ireland, the UFV are never partners with the British government. They see them as enemies to the peace process. But since they were made to look so foolish by Tim Patrick and his IRA comrades, and because Tim's win caused a major riot, there has been a partnership as of late.

In a strange twist, an unnamed member of the American government working in the State Department who is sympathetic to Tim Patrick's and the IRA's cause, was responsible for Ian's deportation back to Northern Ireland and tipped off the IRA that he was returning to Belfast.

All night and day, the IRA has been waiting for Ian's plane to arrive. However, they believe he's arriving on a commuter jet, not a mail plane. So when his plane arrived, they were caught off guard and unprepared. A black van, driven by members of MI-5, the British version of the CIA, pulled up to the plane, picked up Ian, and quickly escaped unharmed by the small and surprised unit of IRA volunteers. The mission to kill Ian had failed, again. The man who's goal in life to destroy Tim Patrick lives to see another day. But now, he's under the full support of the British government and secret branches of their police and military.

***********************



Wednesday, May 29, 2013
11:30 PM
Paris, France
Cody DeLou's Hotel Room
~~OFF CAMERA~~

A day after getting advice from Blyss Lockhart and relaxing about his relationship status with Cody, he began to panic again. He just couldn't shake the feeling of dread and loneliness caused by Cody's uncertainty. He figured that since Cody hasn't called him yet, that any conversation they would have would be too important to be had over the phone. So he spent a lot of money on getting on the first flight from Philadelphia to Paris, without letting Cody know he was coming. He's unshaven, pale in the face, and wearing the same clothes he was wearing the day before. Basically, he's a mess. The thought that he really might lose Cody, the one woman he has ever had any true feelings about, is making Tim sick.

Cody, after finishing her final modeling shoot of her two week long project in Paris, is settling down for the night in her hotel room. She also has been thinking. She misses Tim deeply, but the thought of dating and getting serious with a former member of the Irish Republican Army and a man who has admitted killing others isn't an easy pill to swallow. He says those days are behind him but she's unsure. How can a man who joined an illegal paramilitary and taken lives be safe to be around? Tim's entire life has been full of heartbreaking tragedy and violence and he has a tremendous amount of emotional baggage. Cody, on the other hand, has lived a safe and happy life. She's a beautiful model but is very down to earth, works part time for IWF's ring crew, and never puts herself in dangerous situations. She desperately wants to talk to Tim, but wants to do it face to face.

Cody sits on the edge of her bed looking at her phone in her underwear. Unsure if she call him or just go to sleep, a knock is heard at her door. She realizes that it must be him. He came unannounced like he did last week. She puts on a bathrobe and walks to the door and opens it. Tim is standing there, forcing a smile through his nervousness. His eyes tell another story, as they light up when he sees her. Cody has never seen him look so fragile before. The look on her face suggests that she is happy to see him but is taken back by Tim's obvious anxious and worried emotional state.



She slowly and cautiously steps forward, tassels his hair with her fingers, looks directly into his eyes and softly hugs him. She wraps her arms around his lower back and he wraps his arms around her upper back, both resting their heads on each others shoulder.

Cody DeLou:

Tim, I'm so glad you came. We...we need to talk. Come in.

Tim slowly walks into the room. Cody seems upbeat and accepting. Maybe this is a good sign for Tim. She walks over and sits on the edge of her bed, never taking her eyes off of his eyes.

Cody DeLou:

Tim, I've been doing a lot of thinking. I'm sorry I haven't gotten back to you. Things are just overwhelming. I mean, the last thing I ever expected you to tell me was that you were in the IRA and killed people. I'm not sure I fully understand why you had to go to Northern Ireland and join up with a group like the IRA but if you thought you had to, then you had to. You promise me that you're no longer a part of that army, right?

Tim Patrick:

My fight against Gordon Fury several weeks ago was the last time I ever intend to go to Northern Ireland. I'm done.

Cody smiles.

Cody DeLou:

I've never really met a guy like you before. You fight for what you believe in and you're a gentleman. I just want to be safe. I want to know...I want you to promise that your past won't come back to hurt you or me.

Tim Patrick:

Cody, my IRA involvement is over with. But I have a lot of childhood issues that I struggle with to this day. But with you, all of that seems to go away. I feel safe and at peace when I'm with you. I want you in my life. I'd do anything for you.

Cody gets up and quickly walks a few steps over to Tim and hugs him. She whispers in his ear.

Cody DeLou:

I'm ready...

Tim steps back, slightly confused.

Tim Patrick:

Ready for what?

Cody DeLou:

I want you to be my first. Right here. Right now.

A look of pure happiness comes over Tim's face. Things worked out. Cody doesn't hate him, in fact she wants to be with him. And now she trusts him so much that he wants her to take her virginity. He wraps his arms around Cody, lifts her up slightly, and slowly kisses her neck. She melts (not literally of course). He carries her over to the hotel bed, passionately kissing her. Slowly he begins taking off her bathrobe while she unbuttons his shirt.

She reaches over and dims the lights and gazes into his eyes.



~~Scene Fades~~

Monday, June 3, 2013
Anaheim, California
Honda Center
Backstage before Battle Grounds
7:30 PM
~~ON CAMERA SHOOT~~

With just hours before his match with Flex Johnson, Tim Patrick is alone in deep thought. It's his ritual before a big match to be by himself and say a few words to IWF.com's camera crew. He sits in front of a single camera that's zoomed in on his face and begins to speak.



Tim Patrick:

Flex...how ya doing buddy? Out of all the guys in IWF...you seem different. I mean, I don't hate you. I don't like you all that much, but I wish nothing bad for you. It's like you're stuck in the middle. In fact, you seem to be stuck in a lot of middle places in IWF. You can't seem to get out of the same old shit and climb to the top of the company. I mean, I know that's where you want to be. It's what most people in IWF want. I just want to fight. You want to be famous for your athleticism and charisma. You pride yourself on your wrestling ability, but you can't break through the ceiling to climb to the next level.

You almost did it, dude. You won the High Impact Championship from Gordon Fury, just like I did. The difference between you and I in that regard is that I know it bothers you that you lost it so quickly.

A lot of things seem to bother you lately. You immediately took to Twitter to bitch to anybody who bothers reading your Twitter that you aren't a hardcore wrestler, that you hate that our match is Falls Count Anywhere. But guess what Flexy, not a single fuck was given that day. When we had our Triple Threat Match with Gordon, you demanded a “Lego Deathmatch”. The nerve of you to add “Deathmatch” to that match description. It was ridiculous. It was stupid. It got no buzz from the fans and was quickly forgotten. It will go down in history by the fans in a category of stupid match types, like Jaccky Dane's Road to Hell or shit like that. I'm embarrassed I had anything to do with that garbage. I went from having such an insane match with such a batshit crazy outcome that it caused a riot in Belfast to a Lego clusterfuck. My heart wasn't in it. I lost. I was taken out of my element.



Tonight, Flex...you're in my world. Each and every time I get booked in a hardcore style match, like a Falls Count Anywhere, I steal the show. Win or lose, I steal the show. People pay hard earned money to watch us do what we do. And I make sure they get their money's worth. And I don't do it for gold or fame. I do it because it's all I know. I can't go and sell cars or teach children or work at a bank. I fight. It's all I've ever done and it's all I'll ever do. I'll die in that ring. You can pride yourself on being a technical wrestler and you can pride yourself on your cool nickname or your wacky-ass haircut. You can pride yourself on having to grow up fast and earning everything you've ever gotten in life. But Flex, you'll never be able to pride yourself on stealing the show as long as I'm booked on the same card as you. I'll always create more buzz and excitement and I'll always have more people in the audience in the palms of my hands. There is a little Tim Patrick in everybody. And as long as you keep focusing on having five minute long headlocks and posing and your hair and being Mr. Scientific in the ring, you'll stay right where you are. In the middle.

The age of the mat-technician is dying a slow and painful death. If you're not careful, you'll meet the same fate. Long live the age of violence. Long live the era of IWF's Hardcore Icon. Long live the Irish Car Bomb. Long fucking live Tim Patrick.

Tiocfaidh ár lá!

~~Scene Fades~~

Sleepless Nights (Saga) Part 2: A Lost Brother

Scene One
After the session last week, you asked me to go do some more homework. Last week I told you the story about me and my father. Today I’m going to speak to you about my brother. The story is a bit more happy; the ending is another of pain and sorrow.

I’m the oldest of all of my siblings—there are five of us. My oldest sister was born a year after I was. My brother was born two years after her.

His name was Koji Johnson.

I always thought Koji was a funny name. For the life of me, I’m not even sure of how my mom and dad even came up with that name. When I got a bit older, I asked my mom where they got the name from; she told me that my father saw the name in some Japanese magazine. Apparently, before they had kids, my father and mother struck a deal—he’d name all the boys, and she would name the girls.

Hence the names “Flex” and “Koji.”

So, how did me and Koji interact? Well, I guess there are two different answers to that question.
When we were younger, I acted more like his third parent than his brother. Remember, my mom and dad worked a lot; because I was the oldest, I was in charge when they were out of the house.
Now, I wasn’t one of those aggressive, “listen to every word I say” types—I wasn’t power-hungry, I just wanted my brother and sisters to be safe.

That was when we were younger.

As we grew older, Koji became my best friend. We were only three years apart in regards to age, so we connected with each other.

Man, Koji was a great guy, and a great brother. You all will never know the countless times he sat one the other end of the receiver listening to me talk about my adventures and struggles in the business. If I won a huge match, Koji was always one of the first few people to call me. And, if I lost a match, or if I got robbed, he was also the first to call—to cheer me up.

Sometimes…sometimes he would call and we wouldn’t talk about wrestling at all. Both Koji and I loved the NBA, so we often talked about basketball. Surprisingly enough, wrestlers don’t ALWAYS want to discuss wrestling. Those calls, the ones where we just talked NBA or had random topics, those were the most memorable ones to me.

Man—he was a great guy.

Koji was a great brother, that’s clear as day. But, sometimes I wonder if I was a good bother to him. Yeah, I watched and looked at for him; but, was I really a positive influence on the man’s life?
I’m not really sure.

I certainly wasn’t a positive influence on him, not in my opinion. One day, I had a talk with my mom; I was a maybe 15 or 16 at the time. She cautioned me to be careful, to work hard and be a good example for my siblings. She told me that Koji looked up to me, so I needed to be positive. Ya, it’s kind of funny—when you are young, it’s hard to image your little brother looking up to you. At 15, I really didn’t think I was doing anything special; I was just living life and trying to do what’s right.

I think I was a positive influence in most aspects of Koji’s life—except for one…

…Professional wrestling.

I’ve said this man times; but, I developed my love of wrestling at an early age. My dad and I didn’t bond too much, but every once in a while we did sit down a watch wrestling. And when my dad had to pick up more work, I continued to watch. I didn’t talk about dream very much, not around my brothers and sisters. I’m not exactly sure why I didn’t discuss it with them. Maybe it’s because my friends used to tease me; they used to tell me that wrestling was stupid. Ha, my teachers and advisors thought I was being foolish too. I don’t know if it was because I was black, or if wrestling really had such a bad stigma—but adults thought I was throwing my life away.

I guess…I guess I just thought that my brother and sisters would have reacted like everyone else.
So, I didn’t say anything to them.

I was a little bit embarrassed too.

I remember when I had just become a wrestler—by that time, we were all older and they (my siblings) were all well into their careers. My oldest sister became a college professor and a motivational speaker; my next sister became a doctor, and the youngest became a social worker. Koji became a graphic designer.

And me? Well—I was just a wrestler. And at that time, not a very good one.

As I became more of a star, Koji and I did talk about wrestling. I think I mentioned it before. And, for those waiting, this is where the bad influence starts to come into play. One day, Koji approached me. I told me that HE wanted to become a wrestler. Two things ran through my mind. First, I was proud; secondly, I was upset. My siblings and I all have good jobs—but I make a little bit more money than them. One of my motivating factors was to work hard, so that no one else in my family had to struggle.

I never wanted Koji, or anyone else in my family to become a wrestler. I wanted to protect him. I wanted shield him from the pain. Not just the physical pain, but the emotional pain as well. I intended to keep him away from the sleepless nights, the feelings of inadequacy and loneliness.

But I couldn’t.

Koji was deadest on becoming a wrestler at the time—so that’s what he did. He found his own wrestling school and went to work. Within a few months he was signed to UECW; and within a few weeks he was one half of the tag-team champions.

Ha, although I didn’t want him to become a wrestler, I smile every time I think about it. Inside the ring he was a joy to watch. He so fluid, so crisp. Koji had only been training for a few months when he joined UECW, but he was better than most of the roster. Not only that, but he handle the fame better than I did my first go-around.

He was humble.

He was smart too. Koji had a passion for wrestling, but he knew it was something he didn’t want to do for the rest of his life. Koji was on top of the whole in UECW, and then he retired.

Koji used his earnings from UECW to start his own clothing line. That’s the thing I loved about Koji—he always had a set goal in mind. Not only did he always have a goal, but the goal also came with a plausible game-plan as well.

You know what, if anything Koji was a better influence on me than I was on him. He was the one who introduced me to Mya.

Damn.

My brother’s life was cut short at the worst possible time.

Just like when my dad past, I remember that day very clearly.

I was out of the country at the time; I had been booked in Japan for a couple of matches. Koji actually had just got back into the states. When I said he had a clothing line, that was kind of an understatement. Essentially, Koji jumped into high fashion. He was heavily involved in the design of his goods and their promotion. So, he went on a bunch of overseas promotion tours and such.
Anyway, Koji was driving. He had just finished visiting our mother and was head to his house. Koji left mom’s house around 10:30 p.m.; he then went to a local store to get some food. After leaving the store, he hopped on the highway.

This was about 10:45 p.m.

At 10:50 p.m. Koji was dead.

Koji drove a Silver Dodge Charger. He was driving in the left hand lane when the accident occurred. A Red BMW hit him on the passenger’s side. The force of the impact caused Koji’s car to hit the embankment.

He was killed instantly.

It turns out Koji was hit by some drunk frat boy. The kid had been drinking all night and then had the gall to try and drive. The Charger was totaled, but the BMW only lost the front bumper. The kid didn’t stay at the scene—he fled.

The police never actually found the kid, not even to this day.

Three months prior, Koji and his girlfriend had just had a birthday—my little niece.

I’d like to be completely honest here—Koji’s death really hit me hard. Like I said, he was my best friend. So when he died—it was like a part of me died as well. I can honestly say that I’ve never truly been depressed, except during that period. Shit, it affected me so much I had to quit wrestling for a bit.

It’s been a couple years now, but I still miss my bro. Just like when my dad died, I asked God why—why did it have to happen? Why did he have to be “stolen” away from us?

All these unanswered questions.

…

Lina had been writing notes the entire time. Flex opened his eyes and sat up. He swung his hips and brought his feet down to the floor.

“Was that ok?”

Lina smiled.

“You did an excellent job this week Flex. You always do a good job—you always put a lot of emotion into your stories.

“But I have a question for you.”

“Sure,” said Flex

“Do you think these sessions are helping?”

“I do,” Flex said with a laugh. “My sleep has gotten a little better. But, sharing all this stuff has really helped—at least that’s how I feel.”

“Good,” said Lina. “Now, can I ask you another question? A wrestling related one?”

“Of course.”

“How are you feeling—you know, after the Pay-Per-View? Mya mentioned the situation in passing.”

Flex sighed as he leaned back on the couch. He ran his fingers through his hair.

“I’ll be honest—I don’t know how I feel. I was set-up to loss my title belt; the company knew that I couldn’t win. I put my heart into EVERY match that I work; knowing that your company doesn’t give fuck about hard work and dedication…it’s just disheartening. Now, each champion gets a return match—I don’t even know if I want a return match or not. I’d much rather just skip it and move on you know. But, this is the wrestling business…sometimes you have to do things that you don’t want to.”

“Aww,” said Lina. “Well, I don’t know too much about wrestling. But, I don’t know something about people. Someone in power is watching and taking notice. Everything is going to be just fine alright; don’t lose heart.”

Flex nodded his head.

“Yes ma’am.

“Now, I’ve got a question for you.”

“Sure.”

“Well, do you think it would be possible for me to bring Mya along with me next time? I mean, I tell her everything that I tell you, and, I’d think it would be a good idea.”

“That’s a wonderful idea,” Lina said. “Now, how does three weeks sound?”

“That sounds good.”

Lina got up out of her chair and walked over to her desk. On top of the desk was a Brown folder.

Lina picked up the folder and handed it to Flex.

“Inside of there is your final assignment.”

“Thank you ma’am.”


Scene Two
Mya was lying on the couch. It was about 9: 50 p.m. Flex had left the house at 5 p.m. to go train. Mya was lying, wearing a t-shirt and pair of soccer shorts. She had the TV tuned into on TV1; an old episode of Martin was playing.

Even though it was later in the day, it was still 87 degrees outside; Mya had the central air turned on.

A few seconds later Toby strolled into the living room. He walked over to the couch and looked up at Mya.

“Hey little guy,” said Mya with a smile. “You want to come up here?”

Roof!

Mya reached down, picked the dog up, and brought it close to her body. “You’re probably cold aren’t you,” said Mya. May got up and went into the hallway. She reached into the closet and grabbed a fleece blanket. She then returned to the couch, snuggled next to Toby, and tossed the blanket over both of them.

“Better?”

Toby licked Mya on the face.

About a minute or so later the front door began to turn. Flex walked in to the house carrying a bag of food; he slipped off his shoes and walked into the living room. After he walked in, he saw Mya and Toby laying together.

“This is what come home to?” asked Flex. “I go out to work, and here you are laying down with another man,” he said with a laugh.

“I’m sorry babe,” Mya said. “It’s not my fault though, he is just so cute.”

“Indeed he is.”

Flex sat the food on the coffee table. He walked over to Mya and took a seat on the floor.

“Hey dear, can I ask you something?”

“What’s wrong babe?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” Flex said. “But—I would really love it if you would come with me to my next appointment.”

“Aww, of course I’ll go with you!”

Flex reached out to grab Mya’s hand; he slightly kissed it.

“You are the best.”

“I know,” Mya giggled. She shifted her weight a bit. “So what are you about to do now?”

“Go upstairs and watch some tapes.”

“Why don’t you watch them down here?”

Flex laughed.

“Babe you hate to watch film.”

“I know,” Mya said. “But I want to tonight.”

“Really?”

“Yes,” Mya said with a smile.

“Ok—let me go get them!”

Flex hopped up off the ground and made his way upstairs. Toby shifted and looked up at Mya.

“I know Martin is more enjoyable—but this will help with his match this week.”

Roof!


Scene Three
Tim Patrick.

Last month you won the High Impact championship. And then very next week you were tossed into a seemingly hopeless bout. And, before you even had a chance to savor the spoils of your victory, the title belt was snatched right from under you.

Two weeks ago, I captured the very same title. In many people’s minds, it was a big achievement here in IWF. But, before I could even do my first interview as a champion, it was stolen away from me in an instant.

In that small regard, you and I are alike.

But, as history has proven, you and I are completely different.

You know what’s really funny? The other on Twitter, you referred to yourself as “IWF’s Hardcore Icon.” Tim, let me explain something to very vital to you. You can’t just up and become an “Icon.” It’s not a title that can easily. The term “Icon” is like a Doctorate degree; it can’t be bought—it can only be obtained through blood, sweat, and tears! A person is crowned with the term “Icon” because they have EARNED the honor.

What have you earned Tim?

Technically speaking, you are an IWF original aren’t you Tim? You can to IWF after all that shit happened in that other fed. But what you have done in IWF? Well, during most of your first year here, you did absolutely nothing. You fought in a great deal of losing matches. Your performance was so low that you were NEVER even considered for a title shot. After months of floundering, you decided that you were going to align yourself with Sean Libbeh. Ultimately, Libbeh turned out to be just another bum—kind of like you. So, things in your career didn’t get better.

Hell Tim, no one in IWF gave a fuck about you until maybe three months ago. And most people in the business gave a fuck about you until maybe a month ago. And, even though people know about you—you aren’t a household name sir! No one is sitting at home saying “I wish Tim Patrick was wrestling tonight.”

This applies to regular matches…

…But it also applies to hardcore matches.

Tim, I could give two shits about what you did UWF. Hell, you can’t even find old UWF hardcore matches on Youtube. For all we know, you made shit up about you becoming their hardcore champion! And, if we look at your hardcore record here in IWF, you’d probably be labeled as “mediocre” instead of an “Icon.”

Tim, you and I have had three encounters in the past—all of them were some type of hardcore match. Hell, in the first tag team match, you went in the management and bitched to get them change it to a hardcore match. I bet you had to do some serious carpet munching to get that match changed Tim. But, I digress—what happened in that match? You and Libbeh got your asses kicked, at YOUR own fucking match! The same thing happened in that triple threat tag team match.

And, do we even need to mention the Lego Death Match? Believe it or not, the Lego Death Match is one of the most brutal “hardcore” matches on the indy circuit. In all honest you should have had the advantage—because the truth of the matter is, you’re more like an indy wrestler Tim. You haven’t proven that you can really hang with the top dogs. But again I digress—in the Lego Death Match, Gordon and myself STILL killed you.

Tim, getting booked in a bunch of hardcore matches doesn’t make you a legend or an “Icon.” You’ve got to win Tim! You HAVE to win. And the fact of the matter is, you aren’t a winner Tim; you never have been a winner. You’ve been losing in life ever since you were born! Tim, you haven’t proven anything—except for the fact that you can get your ass kicked.

Ha, I suppose that make Khaos an “Icon” too huh?

That’s the thing about you Tim—you are just a big farce. Until very recently, you’ve covered about and lied about your past military activities. You’ve lied to all those fans out there; you act as if you are a badass in wrestling, but the fact of the matter is you can’t even preform a proper head lock. And now you are lying about being a Hardcore Icon.

But really, you’re just a shitty wrestler with two shitty title runs.

#Truth

You want to know how is a “Hardcore Icon” Tim? Corey Bull. Bull has injured many a man’s career in brutal hardcore matches. Yeah, he has lost a great of them—but he won a great deal of them as well. Another is Mickey Showery. He is Irish, so maybe you have heard of him before. He started off as a street fighter before he became a wrestler. Unlike you, he actually tried to learn his craft. He struggled and grinded and eventually became a great wrestler. But, he was booked in a hardcore match, he became even greater.

Here’s another #Truth for you, I’m going to beat you this week. Tim let’s be perfectly clear—no matter what type match we would be booked in, I’d win. I’m the better wrestler Tim; you’ve have even admitted that yourself. And even though this is a falls count anywhere match, above all else, it is still a “wrestling” match. Maybe if this was a fight or senseless brawl, then you would have the advantage. Hell, what am I saying—you would lose that lose matches too; just look at our past history.

You see I’m highly motivated this week Tim. At the Pay-Per-View I had what, five or six matches? I’ve been getting emails; the fans have been praising my endurance. Interviews and commentators have praised me on the amount of “heart” that have. And yes, while appreciate all those complements—they don’t really matter.

I won most of those matches, but I lost the most important one!

I embarrassed myself out there in that ring.

But it’s NOT going to happen again this week!

This week, I’m going to do the embarrassing. This week I’m going to kick your ass in YOUR own match. You will out classed, out shined, and out wrestled!

…

All I ever wanted to do was become a professional wrestler. I didn’t have dreams of going into the military; I didn’t have dreams of flying into space. Tim, I had dreams suplexing opponents in the ring. But, once I actually became a wrestler I still was fulfilled. I needed to become the BEST wrestler. I needed to become better than everyone else.

At first I had a rocky road. I lost matches, got dropped from federations, and legal troubles. There were times I thought I had made a mistake.

But then things changed.

At the time I felt like a failure to myself. But, one day, I decided that I wasn’t going to be a failure. I decided that I would become the best. So I worked hard; I trained. And when I learned all that I could here, I traveled. I went to Mexico to learn Lucha; I went to Japan to learn Strongstyle. And, like diligent student, I combined the styles—I meshed the strengths of everything that I learned.
It wasn’t until then did people actually start to recognize me being a star.

THAT was when Flex Johnson was born!

I’ve never lost my hunger since that day. I’ve strive to be the BEST—not just in this company, not in the U.S. I strive to be the best in the world!

That’s where you and I are different Tim. You don’t care about perfecting your craft; you don’t care about becoming the best that you can possibly be. No—instead you are only interested in becoming a “Hardcore Icon.” Ha! People who indemnify themselves as hardcore wrestlers are either retarded, or lack to skills become a true wrestler.

So which are you Tim?

Are you retarded Tim? Are people giving you a little bit of shine, because they feel sorry for you and your condition? Is your whore dating you only out of pity?

OR, do you hide behind brawls because you really can’t wrestle?

Is it some kind of combination of the two?

In all honesty, it really doesn’t matter which category you fall into Tim. You want to know why? It doesn’t matter because it’s not going to change the outcome of this next match. You are still going to lose.

Once again, Flex Johnson is going to prove something to you. Tim, you were the first new face that I met in IWF—you talked a whole bunch of shit. And yet, you were not able to back it up. So, once again I’m going to walk into that arena and kick your ass.

Once again, I’m going to prove that I’m better than you—in EVERY aspect!

…

“Study strategy over the years and achieve the spirit of the warrior. Today is victory over yourself of yesterday; tomorrow is your victory over lesser men.”
-Miyamoto Musashi

END