As was the case with virtually every show, the air crackled with energy. Roars of approval came from the crowd in waves, washing over the participants of the most recent battle. Thatcher bathed in them, arms raised high in victory, adrenaline coursing through his veins. His opponent was just beginning to get up, the agony of defeat written across his face. Most people would laugh at the poor fool, taunt him, possibly drop a foot into his shoulder and continue the humiliation. To be completely honest, there was a time when Rex would have done the exact same thing. Hell, even today, he would do it… if the circumstances were right. There were people who deserved it; Keebler, Riviera, and Thunder were just a few. But this wasn’t a blood feud he’d taken part in this night. It was no grudge match; just a chance for a kid to test his mettle against the experienced Tyrant King. And test his mettle, he did.
Rex leaned down, helping the kid up to his feet, giving him a good pat on the back.“You fought hard, kid. Be proud of what you did.”
To the mass approval of the crowd, Thatcher lifted his opponent’s arm in victory. He turned away, heading for the ropes, when he felt the cold steel of a chair slam against his back. With a shout, Rex hit the mat. Stars danced before his eyes, and he had just enough time to get to his knees before another shot dropped him back to canvas.“You want something to be proud of?! How about THIS!”
A third shot sent an explosion behind Rex’s eyes. Beyond the sound of the blood pumping in his ears, he could hear the angry shouts of the surrounding crowd; the kid had decided to make his mark in a different fashion, and they were none too happy about it. Rex wasn’t exactly thrilled himself, crawling to the ropes, vision slightly blurred.“You know why I wanted this match, Rex? Do you?”
The kid was circling him like a predator after wounded prey.“Because relic though you are, you’re still held in high esteem by certain circles… like the sheep that inhabit this arena!”
Another chorus of boos met his words. Keep talking, numnuts, thought Rex.“You’re still heralded as one of the top competitors out there… so, if I take you down, what is that going to do for my reputation? Guaranteed title shots, old man! Publicity and fame, with fortune following soon after. Your time is over, ‘Tyrant King!’ You should have stayed in retirement, where it was safe!”
He raised the chair above his head, bringing it down upon Thatcher’s skull with all his might, and everything went dark.* * *
Thatcher awoke in the locker room he had used for the indy show, his head throbbing like the dickens. Light stabbed into his eyes. His hand raised up to shield them, eyes squinting in the brightness.“Hell of a shot you took, old boy.”
His head snapped to the side, finally becoming aware of the person sitting next to him.“Relax, it’s just me.”
”Me” happened to be an old acquaintance, one who had served to set up this little bout; one Madelyne McTaggert, former wrestler, former owner of X3W. Given their history, one would expect them to be at each others’ throats. However, they had worked past it, mostly during McTaggert’s tenure at Supreme Championship Wrestling. The British bombshell wasn’t what one would call a stand-up citizen, but she had agreed to behave if she accompanied Rex.
Thatcher sat up, the world swirling for a moment as he did so. The back of his head, where the chair had impacted, was rather tender. It brought back memories of the Barbed Wire Massacre matches he had participated in; he’d fought wars in the ring, but it seemed as if that counted for nothing when it came to the newer generations. In Rex’s day, there was a healthy respect for the legends of yesterday.“So what are you going to do to this kid?”
He looked up at Madelyne.“Absolutely nothing.”
She gaped at him, her jaw dropping.“Are… are you serious? This young punk introduces a chair to your skull not once, not twice, but four times, and you’re just going to let him get away with it? Not a smart move, Thatch. It’s going to broadcast the message that others can do the same. It’ll make you a target.”
“This place isn’t my territory. It’s not my home. If this were SCW, it would be a different story, but… no. There are those who will punish him for what he did. I don’t need to.”
Madelyne was shaking her head, blonde locks flowing.“Not in this day and age, Thatcher. These kids… they respect no one.”
Rex arched an eyebrow at the use of the word ‘kids.’ Madelyne wasn’t much older than the chair-wielding opponent. She caught his look.“You know what I mean! I’m living proof. The wrestlers of today, they don’t give a damn about previous exploits. Look at one of your opponents for New Year Rising; no respect whatsoever.”
“How do you mean?”
“He called you an up-and-comer, Thatcher. A rookie. You haven’t been a rookie since your debut in PCW. What was it that he said? Oh. I remember. ‘Can the two claim they have held a world title?’ I mean, really? The titles you’ve held absolutely dwarf the amount that whelp has even seen, let alone held!”
Rex was silent for a moment, then gave a shrug.“Let him think it.”
“What?!”
“You heard me.”
“Are you daft? I could understand letting that idiot get away with what he did tonight, but this other guy, this Daniel Tyler, he’s actually at your home! He’s challenging you, and you’re going to let him?”
“I didn’t say that. I said let him think what he will. If he wants to make the moronic mistake of not scouting his opponents, then I’m not about to stop him. But by no means am I saying I’m going to let him walk away. He has no respect now….”
A smile formed on Thatcher’s lips, none too pleasant.“But we’ll see if he sings the same tune after New Year Rising.”
* * *
Amazing.
Two matches into this company, and I’m already being considered for a shot at one of the titles. It’s about the fastest I’ve moved up in any company.
Oh, I still have a long way to go, of course. The contendership is not yet in my hands, let alone the title… but if the likes of Daniel Tyler is anything to judge by, I might as well.
I heard what you had to say, Tyler. You’re awful cocky for a man with, what, two titles to his name? Let me tell you something, son; you may be proud of your reigns, and you have a right to be. But if you want another, then you best start doing your research. You’re not just facing a former world champion, or a former television champion… you’re facing the former North American Champion of the Championship Wrestling Council. Ever hear of it? It’s a conglomeration of numerous companies; VWF, NEW, UWF, PCW, and others. All of these companies band together, sending in their best and brightest to compete in tournaments. And you’re talking to the man who was able to rise above all of them and not only secure the North American Title, but hold it for six consecutive months. During those six months, I held the top title of the company I’d signed on with. That’s right, kiddo; dual champion.
Now, I don’t exactly expect you to care about that. I expect you to sit back in your chair and laugh at the words I have uttered. I expect you to mock everything I say, because that is what you people do. It’s an attitude I’ve noticed many adopt, and you’re no different. I’m done sitting by while punks like you sit there and shoot off at the mouth. I’m done letting things go. You’re nothing but an arrogant asshole, and it’s about time to shut that loudmouth up. Come New Year Rising, you’re going to face something that you’ve never trained for. You’re going to find out exactly why they call me the Tyrant King.
And don’t think I’ve forgotten about you, Argento. You haven’t displayed the lack of respect that Tyler has; in fact, I haven’t heard a thing from you. That’s fine and good; you’re a big guy, and I’m sure your size and power tend to speak for themselves. You’re no rookie, having been in this company for months. You’ll be far more of a challenge than the third member of our little game. Believe it or not, I’m looking forward to going head to head with you; I like challenges, and gaining a contendership without a challenge is like winning a foot race with a paraplegic.
But make no mistake, I fully intend to walk away the winner of our Triple Threat. I’ve been hungry for another title reign, folks, and I won’t be satisfied until I have thirty pounds of gold strapped about my waist once more. First, I have to go through Argento and Tyler. Next, whoever wins the belt at NYR.
The Tyrant King is on the rampage once more.
And finally, you will have a champion that you can be proud of.
You will have a champion that brings glory to the SCW.
But the Roulette Title isn’t my final goal, not by any means. It is simply the first step on a long journey... a journey that leads to the biggest trophy of SCW, the granddaddy of them all: the SCW Heavyweight Championship!
It speaks volumes that after only two matches in Sin City, management has seen fit to put me on the road to a title. They can see the talent, the sheer power, of the Tyrant King. There are those in the locker room who have yet to see that.
But I promise, you will.
And when you do, you will think of nothing else.
