[Thatcher Rex]

 


Ow.

The first word that came to my mind, the first feeling that my body directed to my brain two weeks ago, was ouch. I was swarmed, beaten, and embarrassed by the entirety of Team Erik who, livid over my rejection of their offer, decided that I required a lesson. A lesson that left me on the floor of the arena, blood dribbling down my chin and stars flashing before my eyes, unable to stand under my own power for a good long while. There is no time in recent memory when I’d been attacked by do many individuals, when so many arms reigned down upon my form. There hasn’t been a time in recent memory when I was so brutally dominated, then discarded like a piece of trash. I was punched, kicked, and tossed out of the ring like the drunken troublemaker a bouncer would handle. The odd thing about this entire situation is the fact that this whole Staggs vs Management thing wasn’t my fight. I didn’t join up under the banner of either camp, content with my procurement of the Roulette Title. I had plans to do great things during my reign. I had ideas to pitch, ideas that would revolutionize SCW. But that all changed when Erik Staggs decided he wanted me in his camp. And who could blame the guy? The Tyrant King, fresh off his win over one of Staggs’ own, had once more proven to the world that he truly deserved his moniker. I’d proven just how good I am not only in securing another title reign to add to my illustrious career, but by fending off the surprise attack of Duke Ata Tupoi. I smashed him through the roof of a limo right before pinning James Huntington-Hawkes III and claiming the belt as my property. Of course Staggs would want such a force on his team. I wanted no part in this company war, but like the pull of a black hole, I was sucked into the singularity. And when I refused, I was summarily punished, intended to be held as an example to all who refused to join Team Erik. Well here’s news for you, Staggs.

You just made an enemy.

And not just any enemy. I’m sure that you have a list of enemies so long that you can’t even begin to recall them all. Man like you, it wouldn’t surprise me. But you made an enemy out of the man who took the brunt of everything your team had. You made an enemy out of the man who, though your team swarmed him, is still standing. Did you truly think that I would hide away after such transgressions? Did you think fear of your army would find its way into the heart of the Tyrant King and render him a sniveling husk, huddling in the corner? If so, then you have badly misjudged me, Erik. You have fatally misjudged me, because now, I have a reason to get involved in this war. I have every reason to lead the charge, to call for your blood, under the banner of Mark Ward.

And that charge starts this very Sunday, against the likes of Giani Di Luca, James Huntington-Hawkes III, and the mystery opponent.

I don’t know who you people have chosen to hide behind a veil of anonymity. Personally, my money is on Tupoi. That little bastard is likely still smarting from when I put him in his place, and vengeance is certainly on his mind. In truth, though, it doesn’t matter what lapdog you’ve summoned. Mystery opponents leave me in the dark, but have you taken a look at the people I’ve aligned with? Gabriel and Despayre. Darkness is practically the home of Sinful Obsession. Gabriel himself plays the game of deception very, very well, as evidenced by the recent game he and Odette played on Jordan Williams. He is a master of the game, and one can hardly play a master. Despayre was a guest of the Broodmore Mental Facility. And me, well… you’ve seen what I can do. This mystery opponent keeps himself hidden in the shadows, but we three, we know that the biggest threat strikes from darkness. One only has to look into the dark to know how a threat will strike from it, and the three of us… we’ve all looked directly into the abyss. We’ve stared in straight in the eye, and not a one of us has blinked. So keep your hidden ally a surprise. Keep his identity a secret until the final moment, because when all is said and done, his ass will be sent back to the shadows of obscurity.

The other two opponents, however, are very well known to me. Both are delusional meatheads who are tired of not being taken seriously, who are tired of being considered jokes in SCW. Well, boys, here’s a tip: stop acting like jokes.

James Huntington-Hawkes III. What can I say about the Kindergarten Kid that hasn’t been said before? I brought you down, James. You trembled with fear both times we met in the ring, and you practically pissed yourself. Now you’re ranting and raving about how it wasn’t fair. What do you know about fairness, boy? You’ve cheated your way to the title, but when your tactics don’t work, you decide to call in your cavalry. You best take a good, long look at who you’re coming up against, James, because the people you’ve called upon for help aren’t going to do you any good. They’re tough when they assault someone from behind, or in groups… but face to face? They’re going to fold just like you did. You threw Simpson at me, and I tossed him aside. You paid Duke Ata to stop me from taking the Roulette Title, and I dropped him like a bad habit. Then, when you thought I was distracted, you finally emerged from your hiding place to assault me. The result? I put you down like a dog.

Do you still think you’re better, James? Do you still think this “old man” is irrelevant, even after he thoroughly kicked your little half-a-ass? If so, then you’re more of an idiot than I thought… and I thought you were a damn big one. You and your boys couldn’t stop me when it was just the Tyrant King you were dealing with. Tell me, how exactly do you think you’ll fair when Sinful Obsession is by my side? I’ll let you know, now: about as well as you would against any other member of the roster. You want to know why it is that your boss, Staggs, sent you off with Misty? You want to know why he wanted you by her side? It’s because you’re better suited for the Bombshell Division. He’s training you to play in that particular arena, because you have more in common with them than you do the division you’re currently in. Misty will be training you so you can go after the Bombshell Roulette Title. Maybe when your voice cracks and your balls drop, you’ll be allowed to take another shot at my Roulettle Title.

Don’t think I’ve forgotten about you, Giani. You’ve been asking for this for a long time, what with your constant attacks. If anyone deserves an ass-kicking more than James, it’s you. You’ve poked, you’ve antagonized, and now, you’ve finally got my attention. You’ve been asking for a foot up your ass for a while, Di Luca, and on Sunday, you’re going to get it. James has organized the attacks, but you’ve been leading the charge since I started going after the belt. I have no idea what it is that has you so intent on inflicting pain to me, and frankly, I don’t give a good Goddamn about the why. You wanted a fight, and I am more than happy to provide. You’re going to learn the lesson that many others before you have: you don’t pick a fight with the Tyrant King unless you want to wake up to the sound of an EKG machine.

Yeah, you’re a big guy. Yeah, you’re young and in your prime. You’re mean, you’re tough, blah blah blah. Thing is, big guys like you are a dime a dozen. You’re all the same; arrogant pricks that sorely need their teeth kicked through the back of their head. And Giani, you’ve been needing it for a very long time. Now let’s see what you’re made of now that you’re meeting me face to face instead of ambushing me from behind.


*  *  *


Thatcher’s head snapped up as the door slammed open, the vivacious Madelyne McTaggert pushing through without so much as permission. He cocked his head, puzzled as to her disheveled appearance; she’d been gone for weeks, spending time in California with her old friends. She had only returned the previous night, and had a lot to catch up on.

“Your mystery opponent. It’s Casey Jones.”

Okay, so she was more caught up than Thatcher.

“…the Ninja Turtle guy? The one with the hockey mask?”

Maddie blinked for a moment, then gave an exaggerated eye roll.

“Jesus. Williams. Casey Williams.”

“Are you sure? I mean, can we be certain that the Foot Clan isn’t trailing behind somewhere?”

“Shut up.”

Rex never could resist teasing the blonde. She didn’t foul up much, but when she did, he jumped on it.

“Casey Willaims, you say? I’ve seen him. The guy is a grade-A jackass, worse than Giani, if that’s possible.”

“Yes, he is worse than Giani. He’s stronger. Better. Nastier. Giani may be some full-of-himself jackass, but Williams is truly dangerous.”

Thatcher pondered her words for a moment before responding.

“Of course he’s dangerous. There are very few men in this business that aren’t dangerous. But I’ve made a living fighting men like Casey. I’ve made a career out of not backing down.”

“You’re not afraid of him?”

A lopsided grin formed on Rex’s face.

“Madelyne… how many times have you seen me actually afraid of another man?”

The buxom Brit returned the smile.

“It’s mostly the women that frighten you.”

“Let’s not get into that.”

“If Team Erik were really that smart, they’d recruit your ex-girlfriends.”

“Who’s side are you on?”