[Thatcher Rex]

 


“And that’s who I am, James.”

Rex shot a glare towards the current Roulette Champion before heading to the back, the battle over for the night. He and Misty had achieved further victory by defeating the team of Vixen and Nick Jones, advancing further into the tournament. He ventured through the halls, the roar of the crowd reverberating down after him. They loved the show, and were clamoring for more. Oh, they would get more, that much was assured; numerous contests were on the horizon, and the future of the Tyrant King was looking bright, indeed. He stepped into the shower, the droplets cascading down upon his body. Madelyne McTaggert, who seemed to be his shadow these days, was right outside, leaning against the wall.

“You know, you’ve been antagonizing a lot of people lately.”

“What, you mean the kid? James is hardly a threat.”

“I’m not talking about the boy. I’m talking about people who would otherwise be your allies. You’re really pushing them.”

For a moment, the sound of water was the only response given, then silence as Rex turned it off. His hand came out, grasping a towel and pulling it behind the curtain.

“Not intentionally.”

“Intent has nothing to do with it, Thatcher. The fact that these people are getting angry is what matters. You’re alienating them! Keep it up, and the day will come when you won’t be able to call on anyone for help. And you will need help, eventually. You’re tough, but you’re making enemies left and right. You’re going to end up one man against an entire roster, and I don’t care how tough you are, no man can beat those odds.”

Madelyne averted her gaze as Rex emerged from behind the curtain. He pulled on a pair of jeans, buttoning his shirt before he responded.

“Your concern is touching.”

“I mean it, Thatcher. Staggs, Gabriel… these are top players, and they’ll come after you if you don’t leave well enough alone. You’re not invincible!”

Thatcher turned towards her, slinging his gym bag over his shoulder.

“I know. Trust me, I’ll handle it. These guys, they just need things to be cleared up. I’ll talk to them.”

A look of skepticism crosses the British blonde’s face.

“And I mean talk. Not fight. If they’re good men, they’ll lend an ear. If they’re not good men… well, best I learn it now instead of later. Now, don’t you have a plane to catch?”

Madelyne checked her watch and began to head towards the exit. Before departing, she looked back.

“You’re sure you’ll be alright?”

Rex let out a chuckle.

“I’ll be fine on my own while you’re out in California. Now go. Mend your friendship with Syren.”

Syren had been Madelyne’s closest friend in a different company, ironically another SCW; Supreme Championship Wrestling. The two had a falling out some time ago, and both were too proud to step forward. Rex eventually wore Madelyne down, convincing her to head out and make amends. She would be gone for a week or so, which would be odd to Thatcher; there would be no one for him to converse with in Nevada.

Well, not yet, anyway.


*  *  *


Blast from the Past. From the beginning, that has been the name of this mixed tag tournament. From the past, it may be, but a blast, it isn’t. Don’t get me wrong, victory far sweeter than defeat ever will, but there have been very few people that have purely enjoyed this competition. There has been animosity between most teams; one teammate dislikes the other, or both despise one another. There is very, very little trust. The only team that I’ve seen get along is that of Odette Ryder and Jordan Williams. From the beginning, they’ve understood one another, working like a well-oiled machine. They celebrate together, cheer, and revel in the victories they’ve attained. I’m rather envious of the two of them; when I signed up, I was hoping for a team like that. I was excited at the prospect of joining forces with someone I could trust… a person I could not only rely on, but actually enjoy the company of. Not in any romantic way, as one James Huntington-Hawkes III seems to think; I’m talking about someone that I can call friend.

Three months I’ve been in Sin City, and as of yet, there isn’t one person I’ve called friend. I’ve kept my eye on many a person around here, and I have yet to trust any of them. Quite the opposite, actually; instead of friends, I’ve been making enemies. It seems I’ve stepped on the toes of one Gabriel, the boyfriend of Odette. Well, sort of; no one is exactly sure what their current status is, but let me tell you something, Gabriel: if you keep on treading down this path, you’re going to lose her forever. Posting that picture on Twitter wasn’t intended to step on your toes; it was meant to bring a bit of levity to Odette’s life… which, if I recall, is your job. But since you’re the cause of a lot of heartbreak in recent weeks, I figured I’d do the nice thing and bring some laughter back. And you know what? I succeeded. It brought a smile to Odette’s face, something that you should have been doing from the start! Now, I can see how this can be misconstrued as me trying to steal Odette away from you, Gabriel; when I was younger, I would have bristled much in the way that you are right now. But I’m going to level with you, son, man to man. I am not after your girlfriend. I don’t break couples up, nor do I wish to see you two end it. So I’m going to give you a bit of advice: stop what you’re doing. End the jealousy, get beyond the bitterness, and accept the woman for who she is and what she does. That’s the only way you’re going to keep her, because I’m telling you right now, you’re pushing her away. Recognize Odette as the woman you fell in love with, and embrace every aspect of her. Love her and cherish her, or you will surely lose her.

As for you and I, well, we have a different sort of issue. I confess to being a bit pissed off at your method of letting me know you had a problem. Did you come backstage and find me? Did you attempt to contact me in any way to let me know that there was a problem? No. You let it stew, then chose to air your grievances not to my face like a man, but from behind a camera. “Boohoo, Thatcher doesn’t follow me on Twitter! Waah, Thatcher posted a picture of my girlfriend’s butt!” I expect that kind of behavior from people like Nick Jones and James Huntington-Hawkes III, but you… I thought you were better than that. We’re not exactly buddies, but neither were we enemies, and I’d like to keep the latter the way it is. We can even meet for a beer and work this out like civilized men, as it should be. Hell, I’d welcome that. But know this… if you come after me, if you come looking for a war, then you will get the biggest war you’ve fought in your career. Make no mistake, Gabriel; my desire to be on good terms is not one borne of fear. Rather, it is out of recognition that you are, in fact, a good man. I dislike going to war with good men, but I will not shy away from one if you bring it to my doorstep. Are we clear?

I’d hoped this tournament would bring friendship to my door, would associate me to different circles. I had hoped to team with one of the good people of SCW; Vixen, Odette, someone I knew I could rely on. But I was teamed with Misty. Misty is not the type of person that I tend to spend my free time with, nor do I have anything in common with her disciples. In point of fact, her disciples seem to hold animosity towards me, possibly because I don’t bow low and lick Misty’s boots as they do.

Now, don’t get me wrong. As much as I dislike Misty, she’s proven to be quite capable in the ring. One could hardly ask for a more skilled partner. She’s good at what she does, and I did extend a level of trust last week. She herself didn’t do anything, but the aid her disciples rendered… that in and of itself puts a black mark on our victory. I would have preferred a partner that didn’t have an uncontrollable pack of dogs following in her wake, but as is often the case in life, we don’t always get what we want. Life deals us a hand, and we have to play the cards, good or ill. Sometimes, you can work them into a straight flush, sometimes two pair. Other times, you just have to fold. But it’s not in my nature to fold, nor is it the nature of any individual found in Sin City. Well, aside from Giani Di Luca, anyway. Many people have walked away from the table, their hands just not enough to win the jackpot, and only a few players are left. This week, Misty and I go head to head with Odette and Jordan. This isn’t going to be like the other teams we’ve defeated, not by a long shot. For one, my esteemed partner cannot make the same claim as she did last week; Vixen is tough, and the Bombshell champion on top of that… but Misty had beaten her before. The same can’t be said for Odette. Quite the opposite, really, and it’s no small feat to claim victory over the Queen of the Damned.

You have your work cut out for you, Misty. This is your shot at redemption against Odette, and for the sake of our team, I hope you can pull it off. But this time, no disciples will accompany us to the ring. Last week, I allowed it simply because Jones’ Entourage was making its presence known, and even cost us an early victory; ol’ Nick was about to tap out before his little pal intervened. Your disciples did come in handy with that, I’ll admit; it evened the odds. But this week, there will be no entourage to justify their presence. It’s just going to be you and me against Jordan and Odette, no one else. You’ve got a score to settle, and I understand that. I can even respect it; in my time, I’ve had many a score to settle, and I can tell you, it is far more satisfying settling them on your own, under your own power. It’s difficult, but nothing worth doing is ever easy. Odette is a fighter, and she’s going through a turbulent time. One might think this makes her weak, but I’d think it would make her far more dangerous. She’s going to be wild, unpredictable. Pent-up aggression is going to be a factor, and she’s going to use every ounce of it against you, Misty; being her chief rival, you’re the prime candidate. She’s going to come at you with a fire that you’ve never seen from her, and I truly hope that you’re prepared for it.

Odette, I would wish you luck, but that would seem a bit contradictory, as I’m hoping to win this tournament. Instead, I will just say that I hope you fare well. Knowing who you are and what you can do, I’m sure you will.

Your partner, on the other hand, I don’t have such kind words for.

Jordan Williams.

The self-proclaimed God of Professional Wrestling.

He’s different from the likes of Nick Jones, or Rage. This man has entered retirement and come back out of it, much as I have. He’s a veteran of the business, and has no doubt faced the same “should have stayed retired” quips. He’s accomplished many, many things in his career, and all of them are worthy of recognition. They say that this is a man who is not to be trifled with.

Funny thing is, I’ve made a career out of trifling with those kinds of people.

You’re the God of Professional Wrestling, aren’t you, Jordan? A god. An interesting choice of title. A god is supposed to be above mere mortals, a powerful entity that even kings pay homage to. But there’s a problem with gods, Jordan: they’re replaceable. In our history, mankind has worshiped over three thousand different gods. As time dragged on, earlier gods were rendered obsolete by the belief in new, better gods. In point of fact, gods were far more disposable than any mortal; gods sat back and watched their subjects while it was the mortal who progressed. Eventually, they progressed so far that they’d moved past the point of needing them at all. Zeus, Osiris, Poseidon… all were abandoned once societies had decided they were far enough along that they didn’t need them. That they were better than gods.

If you truly are the God of Professional Wrestling, Jordan, then you are destined to be left behind. You’re the top contender for the heavyweight title right now, so enjoy it while it lasts, because time is against you. The Tyrant King is on the march, climbing the road to Mount Olympus.

But taking charge is not his intent. He is not looking to place himself upon the existing throne. He intends to overthrow.

And he will cast down the final god to the realm of mortals.

So you know exactly how it feels to be one of us.