<img align=left src= "http://www.geocities.ws/scwmaterial/Pictures/fenris10.jpg">Long Beach, California -
Walter Pyramid
It wouldn't be too much longer before the entirety of This college basketball gymnasium would be packed with well over four thousands fans, each and every one screaming and cheering, ready for an evening filled with wrestling excitement. That was what Sin City Wrestling brought each and every time when it came to town, and it took no time at all for the building to be sold out to standing room only capacity. Many would be turned away at the door when they arrived to attempt to purchase last minute tickets, only to discover the folly of procrastinating and take out their own mistakes on some poor ticket booth operator. But then again, thousands more would be tuning in via the miracle of the world wide web, watching Climax Control on their weekly streaming broadcast.
It was a unique feature amongst the wrestling world, for a wrestling promotion that has grown to cult status and known world-wide, to air it's weekly broadcast by the Internet and special Supercards on iPPV rather than satellite or cable providers.
But that would be a matter of two days. For now, the interior of the Walter Pyramid was devoid of any activity. The SCW's traditional six-sided ring would be delivered first thing on Saturday morning and set up, ready for any last minute routine training, promotional shoots or the like. There was only one person inside of the 'Pyramid,' and it was not someone who would be working on the ring or sitting in the stands, enjoying the show come Sunday evening...
The sound of a door closing clashed in the empty void of the building, the spacious walls causing the sound to echo throughout, louder than it actually was.The acoustics of such a place would only lend itself well to the show on Sunday when bodies were being thrown about the ring, driven into the canvas and the shouts and cries of agony rang in the ears of all. The footsteps followed, their sound lighter in noise as up the steps from the backstage area and into the gymnasium itself emerged the reigning World Heavyweight Champion of Sin City Wrestling, "The White Wolf" aka Fenris.
In two days, he would be dressed for combat in his simple spandex shorts with little to emblazon them, his MMA style gloves and nothing else; not even ring boots as he preferred to step inside of the wrestling ring the exact same way he stepped into the MMA cages. But for now, he appeared quite casual as he stood there, gazing around the building and taking it all in. He wore his favorite Iceland national football team cap, the edges causing a curtain effect of his below-shoulder hair to shield his eyes. A loose and sleeveless T shirt, white in color, showing off his lightly tanned skin while his jeans were snug but comfortable, and bare feet slipped snugly in white flip flops. Sound silly? It's not like he cared.
It was rare for the Icelandic Superstar to really take in anything that others felt about him. He dressed how he preferred, in what made him comfortable. Not what some fashion gurus or overly priced magazines might dictate he should.
But it was the single bit of bling he indulged in, the prestigious gold belt that he had won that set him above the rest of the roster and allowed him to say, "Hey! I'm the best" that was what mattered. The SCW World Championship belt! Fenris was still living the dream, despite the way his arrogance might lead people to simple believe he assumed he always deserved the title. He rarely if ever let the title belt out of his sight. He kept it on the bed stand of whatever hotel he stayed at during his road trips for the SCW tours, and when at home, it had a place of honor in a glass display cabinet. But when in the public eye, he kept it around his waist. Not as a reminder or to rub it in the faces of his peers, but to remember a path he came when Gabriel and Odette Stevens took him on as a student, and honoring the time they spent so gruelly adapting his cage fighting techniques to the more adaptable pro wrestling style.
Fenris then walked over to the stands, and had a seat on one of the rows along the court. He quietly removed the belt from his waist and raped it across his lap before he spoke.
"I imagine Casey Williams feels that he might have me at a disadvantage. As far as size goes, there's no contest that he has it all over me. He's bigger and stronger than I am, but when has that sort of thing ever really mattered in This business, especially where Casey himself is concerned? How often has everyone watched him step into the ring with the odds overwhelmingly in his favor, only to see someone half his size put him down for the count?"
Fenris smiled as his thoughts drifted off in recollection.
"Earlier This week, Gabriel took what I saw as a bit of sadistic pleasure showing me a tape of a match that occurred between Casey and Despayre. DESPAYRE! A man almost two feet shorter than Casey himself, and damn near two hundred pounds lighter! And Despayre beat him --- each and every time!
"You got me, Casey, and I can admit that. I made the mistake of getting within arm's reach of King Kong and you did something to me that nobody else has ever done before; you laid me out. You knocked me unconscious. And I hope that makes you feel good. I hope that brings to you a sense of euphoria, that you bring to OUR match so it can make you fight like you want it! You are my last step before I get to Kris Ryans at Violent Conduct V, and I want it to be a damn good one! I want it to be a fight that Kris can watch and enjoy, and know what to expect!"
"I was never choke slammed before. Now you're going to be the biggest man I've ever stepped in the ring with. Dmitri had that record, and look what happened when he tried to take what belongs to me..."
He pointed at the belt, and then himself.
"Still the champion. And I still will be after Sunday. That choke slam of yours?"
He scoffed.
"It hurt like hell and I had to be checked out after, but that won't carry you over to my title. It wasn't even the worst part of the last two weeks for me..."
Fresno, California -
Selland Arena
"... I'm just saying..." Aron tried to reason with an unreasonable older brother as they exited the building where Climax Control had just concluded. The arena was slowly filtering of fans and wrestlers alike, so the final clean up could begin and the ring be broken down and the whole process could begin anew the following week.
"I know what you're saying." Fenris spoke in their native tongue, as the brothers were known to do when it was just the two of them or when they spoke with family back home in Iceland. Conspicuous by his words was the simple fact that he had an ice pack firmly pressed against the back of his head with his free hand, the result, no doubt, to what had happened earlier in the evening at the hands of "the Freight Train of Pain." "And I already told you I'm not going to a fucking hospital."
Kristjan grabbed his luggage cart's handle and started pulling it after him and Aron shook his head and picked up his pace to catch up with and walk side by side with him.
"What is it with you and doctors?" Aron frowned. "You all but refused to get your knee checked out until Gabriel made you! And now...."
"I. Don't. Like. Doctors!" Kristjan/Fenris stressed through gritted teeth. "And I did not go because Gabriel 'made me!' I went to that god damn hospital because the two of you threatened to call Mom and tell her I was hurt!"
Aron shrugged. "It worked."
"It wasn't fighting fair!"
"So is that what I have to do This time to get your head examined?" Aron shrugged, his hands tucked into his jean pockets. "Threaten to tell Mom? or worse, Dad?"
"DON'T!" Kristjan bellowed as he turned around to face his brother. He then pointed past Aron and toward the building from which they had just left. "Their doctor checked me out and had my head examined and they found nothing!"
He turned and stormed off toward their rental car, and left Aron smiling brightly, showing those pearly whites. Kristjan came to a screeching halt and turned around and said simply, "Shut up!" And that was right about when a cheering horde of fans came from out of nowhere to accost the champion, begging for autographs and photo opportunities!
It was standard for fans to lie in wait where they knew the wrestlers could easily be seen or met with, at the rear of the building where the cars were. This case was no different as many fans were currently surrounding many of the Superstars and Bombshells who were battered and beaten, but never the less, most of the wrestlers wore smiles on their faces as they satisfied the young and old who supported them throughout their careers. It was almost as if the fans didn't care if their favorites were hurt of tired, or even hungry. Their only concern was with themselves and their own satisfaction.
And in the cases of those world renowned fans known as "ring rats," bringing satisfaction to their favorites! (wink, wink!)
Fenris was indeed besieged by his fair share of fans requests, and like his peers, whatever troubles plagued him, he tried to wipe the frown from his face and give the fans what they asked for. He wrapped his arm around one fan with a smile for a photo, scrawled his name on numerous 8x10s of himself -- even Aron was asked by a handful of fans since he was in the public eye as his brother's "valet" and was quite handsome in his own right.
Just ask Effie Bingham!
Fenris even got his own share of "offers" from the fans to have a few drinks after the show, and possibly join him in his hotel. Most of which came from female admirers. Apparently the revelation that he preferred men did not deter them. In fact, they seemed to take it as a challenge to their womanhood to prove that they knew better than he did in what he preferred. This just got Aron to smile at the awkwardness of the entire situation, each and every one, as whatever they whispered to his older sibling caused his ears to flush red but each had been turned down.
And a young man in his twenties with dark eyes and dark, curly hair? He seemed to make some progress with the White Wolf, much to the anger and frustration of the women who wanted the handsome Icelandic man for their own bed! Unfortunately, that was when some straggling hecklers started to call out some insensitive and derogatory slurs in Fenris's direction. The male admirer had just managed to press a slip of paper in Fenris's hand for whatever reasons (duh!) when the champion threw down his luggage and made a move for the hecklers, when Aron grabbed him by the arm and his male peers in the SCW roster intervened to keep him from doing anything that he might regret!
Ben Jordan was at the forefront, as was Daniel Morgan, hands on Fenris's upper body to keep him at bay while the hecklers used that as an opportunity to showcase their cowardice so long as he was being held back and they just called out more and even worse anti-gay sentiments! Osbourne, along with Mackenzie Page and Charlotte Elliot moved towards the small group to break it up, but they needn't bothered as the security for the arena had been alerted and they were already on the scene, doing their job and breaking things up!
Ben wanted to say something, anything, to the young champion but Fenris's mood had been completely destroyed by what was fast becoming a regularity and he brushed his and Daniel's hands off and moved for his car. Aron had to grab his luggage so he wouldn't leave it behind and hurried after him...
But of course, the experience against the gargantuan monster, Casey Williams, wasn't the worst thing to have happened to him. His issues following the show were far worse by Fenris's own account, and when he had finally broken down and called his family back in Iceland, neither his Mother or Father were satisfied by a simple call. They insisted on speaking to their boy over Facebook chat so they could look him right in the eyes.
It had been what the high and mighty World Champion had been dreading for weeks. Not because of him being reamed out by his parents. He was a grown man -- plus he was quite used to it given his stubborn mind set and temperamental issues. It was the look in their eyes, the light of disappointment as he had to sit at the table in his home in Las Vegas, and tell them everything, in his own words.
Explaining his preference for men was one thing, but god damn it, Aron! Out of fear for his beloved brother's health and well being, Aron had told his parents about the incident a few weeks ago where he had passed out on his own bathroom floor! He had attempted to drown away his sorrows, drinking himself stupid (again) and passing out. That would not have been so bad were he not locked in his bedroom at the time and thus, he had scared the fuck out of his brother, not to mention the Stevens family when they had been alerted by Aron for help!
It had been the lowest Kristjan had ever felt in his entire life, but that didn't even compare to how low he felt when his Mother, Eva, held up her hand, eyes closed.
"I'm not going to discuss this over a computer." She said before she opened her eyes and the misty glaze of restrained tears felt like a fist to the balls for a loving son. She continued, "I want to talk to you, face to face. So does your Father."
"You want to come to...?"
"No." She said with a tone that told him there would be no debate, no argument to the point. "Here. Reykjavik. We want you home for this. So you can explain to your family how this could happen."
Fenris closed his eyes and turned his head away, but his Mother's hard tone pulled him back to her, all but forcing him to face her directly even though they were over four thousand miles apart.
"Look. At. Me." She said with finality, so he did. He was a good son, or thought he was up until recently. "I want you to make me a promise."
What could he say? He simply nodded.
"One month." She said simply, holding up her slim forefinger. "Go one month without."
"Without ... what?" He asked, shaking his head with a frown. Not understanding.
"Without drinking anything stronger than Coca Cola." She answered, her face set firm in stone. "You drink too much, sweetheart. You always have. And I blame that vile stuff you put into your body for what's happened to you."
He shook his head and tried to explain, "Drinking did not make me want to..."
"One. Month." She repeated herself, and Kristjan looked up into her blue eyes. He saw the tear streak from the corner of his Mother's eye and down toward her chin. He nodded.
"One month."
"The problem with you Casey, is that you're stuck in a rut. As far as I can tell, the sport of wrestling has evolved over the years, where you have not. There were times when an opponent could be finished off with a slingshot suplex or the dreaded superkick, but now both moves are used so regularly that it almost seems laughable that anyone of any notoriety used them to put people away in the past. But now a days, the men and women in This business are simply made of tougher and better stuff than they ever have been before."
"But you? You're a giant, Casey, and as such you think you can get away with the tried and true method of all giants in This business. By using your strength and size to overwhelm the opposition, beating them down until there's little left over to pin. If I'm going to be perfectly blunt, I think people would hit themselves if they ever actually saw you apply an actual wrestling hold or some kind of maneuver that wasn't primarily power based. People look at you, and in your case they can judge a book by its cover because what they see is what they get."
"But me?"
He smirked and motioned towards himself with both hands.
"I had people look at me and think I'd be the typical cruiserweight in the business, who over and over puts his body on the line by diving out of the ring or jumping off the top rope onto an opponent while doing some shit baffling triple backwards somersault flips or whatever shit might make the eyes of the average watcher glaze over!"
He shook his head.
"No. I see no point in it. It's not me. Never has been, and never will be. When I was training with Gabriel and Odette, they both had asked me about using some moves like that, but it held no interest to me, and they understood that. I watched tapes of Despayre when he would do some move that would leave me fucking stumped, wondering not just how, but WHY!? Gabriel explained it just came natural to the kid, and while he did what was natural to him, he told me I had to do the same. And while I'm proud to bring the strong style, everything I learned through the years of Brazilian judo, submission, shoot fighting and the MMA style to my career, I'm quite proud that Gabriel and Odette helped me adapt the wrestling style that would help me get ahead. They are the ones who helped me realize I could not just get by with knee strikes and punches. I had to learn the nuances of the sport, suplexes and slams, and more often than not, Gabriel helped me transition those wrestling moves into the moves and holds I myself was comfortable with in my past."
"See, Casey? Adapt. Evolve. Something that I was able to do in a few months, but you have yet to be able to do after YEARS! And that..."
He wagged a finger toward the camera.
"That is what will cost you in the end. Because when you get stale, you get predictable. Gabriel had me in that classroom, watching match after match of yours, from everywhere from SCW to AWA, and it amazed me just how little you've changed."
He shook his head in mock wonder.
"Oh don't get me wrong! You've pick up your share of wins and I'll be damned if you haven't won your share of championships of your own! You're even a Hall of Famer if I'm not mistaken. But world titles? This right here?"
He picked up the belt briefly to show into the camera before lowering it again.
"There's a reason why it's never been yours. There's a reason why it won't even be yours after This weekend. Because you've allowed not just me, but everyone else out there, to know that there's nothing more to you than a few power moves and brawling. And hey...!!"
He held up his hands and shrugged with a smile.
"I made a career out of fighting in cages, so a fight with you isn't going to put me at any disadvantage! And that power of yours won't mean shit if I take your damn legs out from under you and hobble you! A guy your size? I was actually looking forward top This match, Casey, and I still am. You'll be a challenge, a damn hard hitting one! But in the end, a man your size is the same size as anyone else when he gets knocked on his ass! But better still, it was what happened on Sunday that made me realize just how vulnerable you really are."
He shook his head and made waving motion with his hand.
"No, not the part where I got laid out. Casey got the best of me there, can't deny that. That is where his strength is an advantage but I won't let it come to that point again. No, I'm talking about where I drew first blood. Where I punched him right in his ugly faze and his lip exploded! Get what I'm saying, Casey? Huh?"
He nodded with a smile.
"If you can bleed, you can be hurt. And if you can be hurt, you can, and will, be beaten."
