#FTH (vs. The Hangmen for APW Tag Team Titles)
Sept 13, 2020 20:19:37 GMT -5
ned, Giggles!, and 1 more like this
Post by Derrick Vayden on Sept 13, 2020 20:19:37 GMT -5
I'm feeling dead inside
Waiting to come alive
I'm just a dead man walking
Our adventure begins with Sara Pettis, recently widowed second generation professional wrestler. She approaches a familiar door and stops just before the mat. It reads “THE VAYBENS”. She snickers at the spelling mistake, knowing that it was her late husband who ordered the mat for the newlyweds. Whether or not the spelling mistake was intentional… well… he took that knowledge to his grave. Sara rings the doorbell and Geri opens the door moments later.
Sara! You’re early!
My dad always told me that if you’re on time, you’re late.
Come on in, hun. Derrick should be back in a little bit.
Sara follows Geri in and she kicks off her sandals by the closet door. She follows Geri into the kitchen.
Can I get you something to drink? We’ve got water... some weird soda he picked up from Woodman’s… uhh…
Brandy Old Fashioned.
How Wisconsin of you.
I picked up a lot of weird habits from Nathan. Don't even get me started on how much I love Kwik Trip.
They share a joyful laugh, but also feel how serious it is because Kwik Trip is the meaning of life. A pained expression crosses Geri’s face. Now’s as good a time as any.
Hey, Sara? I… I was wondering if I could talk to you about something. It’s pretty serious.
Of course! What’s up?
It’s about Derrick. I was hoping you could maybe talk to him about this Lowe situation…
Oh sure! What about?
Well…
She takes a breath to steel herself.
He’s… He’s going crazy. I mean, he’s obsessed with literally killing that guy. He’s fine around the baby and me. But when he thinks he’s alone, when he’s in his gym with the music up really loud, I can hear him. He doesn’t stop talking about Frank. He wouldn’t even celebrate getting the Hardcore belt. I’m afraid I’m losing him…
You want me to be honest with you? Cause I don’t know if you’ll like what I’m going to say.
Please.
All right, if you say so. Honestly, I’m with Derrick on this one. If I wasn’t on CruiserClash I’d probably be doing the same thing he is. Frank needs to go down and the only way to take him down is, unfortunately, by sinking to his level. Fight fire with fire and all that.
But he’s going insane! This isn’t him, Derrick’s not a killer!
Trust me, once this is all over with he’ll be back to normal. I promise.
But what if he isn’t?!
Don’t you think I’ve been through this a time or two with Nathan? He always came back around.
Did you ever meet him?
You know what I mean, Ger. Did you ever hear about Hijo de Sombra?
That sounds like a telenovela.
Yeah, it does. So… Nathan was obsessed with winning the [redacted] World Title. It was his father's company, so of course, it meant something to him. Once his father passed away, Nathan wore a mask similar to his and essentially became a different person. The things he did to become champion were--
--and then he lost it two months later. And everything was okay again.
Geri looks on, stunned, as she fixes Sara's fourth drink. Or maybe her fifth?
That was… wow…
Iiiiiii know. So trust me when I say… Derrick will have to go to a terrible place to do what needs to be done… and you'll get him back.
Sara won't be getting her man back, and this is another painful reminder of that. She sulks in her chair, staring deep into her drink.
I'm glad it'll all be over soon. Derrick will rid this world of Frank… and then his goons will have no reason to come after us anymore.
Oh! Derrick told me you've got a match against them in Action Wrestling… for the APW Tag Team Championship. That's… interesting. How'd that come about?
Something something… crossover episode…
All this time I thought Derrick was banned from APW. Then he showed up at Alpha Showdown to abduct Frank. What happens if you guys win the titles?
There is no if about it. When we win… I guess we'll have to negotiate contracts with APW… even if only for a short time. Their office was good to Nathan… and they've been good to my brothers… and to Lexi. We'll cross that bridge when we get there. To be honest… the titles are just the desert at the end of the feast. The Hangmen are the main course… and we will devour them.
Wow. You sound like…
Yeah. I know. Normally… I'm all sunshine and unicorns… but I finally have a sanctioned opportunity to fight back against the motherfuckers who killed my husband. We always blame Frank… but his goons' hands aren't clean in this. They followed orders, sure… but they are just as far in as they'll ever be out.
Derrick thinks Frank will opt out of this tag match. Can he do that?
He's a fucking coward. Of course, he won't fight us. Like usual… he'll have Pooter and Moose do his dirty work.
Shooter and Noose.
Yeah, them. What did I say?
Sara finishes her drink and slides the glass forward.
I think you've maybe had enough.
I'll tell you when I've had enough!
She slams her fist on the table, just as Derrick enters the room. Geri backs up, seeing the crazed look in Sara's eyes.
Eeeeeasy, pardner.
He picks up Sara's glass and walks it to the sink, then opens the fridge to retrieve a bottle of water for her.
Drink up.
Sara aggressively snatches the bottle out of his hand and she sinks into her chair to pout. Derrick looks to Geri.
She got going about The Hangmen, huh?
Fuck… The… Hangmen…
A flash of brilliance lights up Derrick's eyes… and an evil smile forms on his face…
I’ll be back.
Derrick walks into his home gym. His quiet place, a place for him to escape when the dark thoughts become too much to handle.
I… I’ve been looking forward to this day for such a long… long time. I finally get my hands on The Hangmen in an official match. I get to see how you live. I get to commit unspeakable things to you and actually get paid for it. All the while winning a set of tag titles with another person whose life you ripped apart in Sara Pettis.
You don’t know how long I’ve fantasized about wringing the life out of your necks. Crushing your windpipes until your bodies stop twitching in my grasp.
Not a day goes by where that thought doesn’t cross my mind. I need to wait a little longer to get my hands on Frank. But you, Hangmen, you won’t be so lucky…
You are so fucked.
Shooter, Noose, you have no fucking clue what’s coming. Sara, she’s out for blood. I am out for blood. I’ve already spilled plenty of your boss’, now it’s your turn. We’re going to skin you alive, drain you of your vitals. What we do to you will make death seem pleasurable.
But no, you won’t die. You can’t die. I need you boys to do something for me after Sara and I take those straps from you. You need to live long enough to tell Frank fucking Lowe EXACTLY what is coming for him at Execution. See, the difference between you and us is; we don’t have to jump you from behind to kick your asses. I don’t have to rely on sneak attacks to beat you. I’d much rather look you dead in the eyes while I rip your arms off and beat you with them. Not once have I surprised you. I came right up to you and punched you in the teeth and not once have you been able to stop me.
You can’t run, you can’t hide. I am your fucking shadow. Anywhere you go, I will be there to make your life a living hell. You can run to APW, take their tag titles, and pretend like they mean something if you want to. But I will always be there to ruin it for you. Because as long as I am breathing, you will not know happiness. You will not know peace. Only pain. Only torment. Only me.
This isn’t about the APW tag team titles. If you honestly think the Action Wrestling developmental system’s championships around your waists make you special or something, you haven’t seen anything yet. I know Frank’s one and only claim to fame is a shitty title in a dead company that Nathan took from him the first chance he got. None of that matters to us. The only thing that matters is making you beg for mercy like the bitches you are.
Shooter. Noose. You’re nothing more than hired guns. Fucking redshirts in Frank’s operation. You do what he says all to make a little bit of money by any means necessary.
But I bet you never signed up for the shit he’s dragged you through, huh? Assaulting a woman for no reason, murdering a man, throwing all of your morals out the window, all for Frank to throw you to the fucking wolves. He threw you to Sara. He threw you to me. You’re nothing more than his fucking meat shields that will allow him to get away and live another week. You don’t matter to him. He’ll never give you praise or thanks for your efforts. Because you’re just a pair of pawns in his game. When you’re clinging to life at the end of Clash, he will simply leave you in the dust.
But, I actually will give thanks. I want to thank you boys personally. Because without you, I would never have found it. I would never have found the thing, the fucking demon sleeping inside me I didn’t even know existed.
You unleashed the beast. You woke up the zombie. You released the monster. And now it’s coming to tear you limb from fucking limb.
I just want you boys to know. Whatever happens to you this Monday on Clash, whatever terrible fate awaits you… it is all. Your. Fault.
I… I’ve been looking forward to this day for such a long… long time. I finally get my hands on The Hangmen in an official match. I get to see how you live. I get to commit unspeakable things to you and actually get paid for it. All the while winning a set of tag titles with another person whose life you ripped apart in Sara Pettis.
You don’t know how long I’ve fantasized about wringing the life out of your necks. Crushing your windpipes until your bodies stop twitching in my grasp.
Not a day goes by where that thought doesn’t cross my mind. I need to wait a little longer to get my hands on Frank. But you, Hangmen, you won’t be so lucky…
You are so fucked.
Shooter, Noose, you have no fucking clue what’s coming. Sara, she’s out for blood. I am out for blood. I’ve already spilled plenty of your boss’, now it’s your turn. We’re going to skin you alive, drain you of your vitals. What we do to you will make death seem pleasurable.
But no, you won’t die. You can’t die. I need you boys to do something for me after Sara and I take those straps from you. You need to live long enough to tell Frank fucking Lowe EXACTLY what is coming for him at Execution. See, the difference between you and us is; we don’t have to jump you from behind to kick your asses. I don’t have to rely on sneak attacks to beat you. I’d much rather look you dead in the eyes while I rip your arms off and beat you with them. Not once have I surprised you. I came right up to you and punched you in the teeth and not once have you been able to stop me.
You can’t run, you can’t hide. I am your fucking shadow. Anywhere you go, I will be there to make your life a living hell. You can run to APW, take their tag titles, and pretend like they mean something if you want to. But I will always be there to ruin it for you. Because as long as I am breathing, you will not know happiness. You will not know peace. Only pain. Only torment. Only me.
This isn’t about the APW tag team titles. If you honestly think the Action Wrestling developmental system’s championships around your waists make you special or something, you haven’t seen anything yet. I know Frank’s one and only claim to fame is a shitty title in a dead company that Nathan took from him the first chance he got. None of that matters to us. The only thing that matters is making you beg for mercy like the bitches you are.
Shooter. Noose. You’re nothing more than hired guns. Fucking redshirts in Frank’s operation. You do what he says all to make a little bit of money by any means necessary.
But I bet you never signed up for the shit he’s dragged you through, huh? Assaulting a woman for no reason, murdering a man, throwing all of your morals out the window, all for Frank to throw you to the fucking wolves. He threw you to Sara. He threw you to me. You’re nothing more than his fucking meat shields that will allow him to get away and live another week. You don’t matter to him. He’ll never give you praise or thanks for your efforts. Because you’re just a pair of pawns in his game. When you’re clinging to life at the end of Clash, he will simply leave you in the dust.
But, I actually will give thanks. I want to thank you boys personally. Because without you, I would never have found it. I would never have found the thing, the fucking demon sleeping inside me I didn’t even know existed.
You unleashed the beast. You woke up the zombie. You released the monster. And now it’s coming to tear you limb from fucking limb.
I just want you boys to know. Whatever happens to you this Monday on Clash, whatever terrible fate awaits you… it is all. Your. Fault.
Imagine a world where Sara Pettis and Derrick Vayden are APW Tag Team Champions. The very match where that could be a reality just has to be part of BizarroClash… or since it's APW… BizarroMetal? I don't even know how to approach this. Like... it'd be cool to be a champion… but it almost feels like a charity title at this point.
I'm not here for any handouts or participation trophies. I'm here to work hard and earn my way into the hearts of those fans. You've all seen nothing but loss after loss from my camp… and you may wonder what I'm even still doing here. Yeah, I knew a dead guy… and now I'm just some Indy Jobber 3.0. I'm not even worthy of a title match… even if it's Action Wrestling's development system's championship, as Derrick called it.
I really like Alpha Pro Wrestling. Prior to signing with AW… I was also in talks with APW. I decided to come here because my brothers and husband were here… so it just made sense that we all stick together. So much has changed this year… and it's kinda cool that my name is again associated with APW. This time it's a Tag Team Championship Match… somehow. Oh, I totally get that this is happening because of our beef with The Hangmen… but like… what the fuck?
Please excuse my language, lovies. I've got the mouth of a sailor when I've had a drink or two… or five. It's just been a rough… year… and I needed to just… unwind. Daughter of an alcoholic gets hammered in friends' kitchen. Yippee-ki-yay, motherfucker! Sometimes I wanna get on TV and just let loose but can't, but it's cool for Tom Green to hump a dead moose. What is she even talking about? That widow has gone mad!
We all go a little mad sometimes.
I just need this living nightmare with Frank and his goons to be over with. I need to wake up one day and not feel like the entire universe has fucked me. I need to be able to go to work without everyone walking on eggshells around me. Yes, I am irreparably damaged… but falling has taught me how to pick myself up again. I'm ready to get up and get moving… but those three monster must be sent packing first.
I've said before that Derrick has it in him to do what needs to be done… and I don't. I even convinced Geri that he'll be able to come back to her once this is all over with. Did you ever stop to ask why I don't have what it takes? All you'd have to do is take a look at my family history in this business… but since it all happened outside of the metasphere that birthed Action Wrestling… none of it is relevant in the eyes of the self-felatiod elitists around these parts.
To simplify the legend… my family has deep roots in going too far and not coming back in the same head space. My birth father is a sociopath… my mother was at one point deranged and obsessed with a cult leader… my step-dad has more blood on his hands than a butcher during grand opening. If I were to give in to the dark urges screaming beneath my flesh… there would be no way back. There would be no humanity to return to.
If I were to do what needs to be done… my daughter would be orphaned.
Instead… I will selfishly leave the final battle up to Derrick. The penultimate showdown will see The Hangmen against… Fuck The Hangmen? Sure. Let's go with that. It's more likely that it'll be Shooter and Noose in this match on Monday Night Clash… because Frank is a fuckin' coward. For all the locker room jabs about Derrick and I being jobbers… those two trashbag wrestlers are the epitome of just over broke. They are paid muscle… with not a lick of formal training. They only have those titles because they cheated… as usual.
They will try some nefarious shit in this match… and we will stop them. Their win at APW Alpha Showdown was a mistake… that FTH is prepared to make right. We are not just fighting for ourselves… or for Nathan… but we are also fighting for Alpha Pro Wrestling.
They deserve better.
We are better.
I'm not here for any handouts or participation trophies. I'm here to work hard and earn my way into the hearts of those fans. You've all seen nothing but loss after loss from my camp… and you may wonder what I'm even still doing here. Yeah, I knew a dead guy… and now I'm just some Indy Jobber 3.0. I'm not even worthy of a title match… even if it's Action Wrestling's development system's championship, as Derrick called it.
I really like Alpha Pro Wrestling. Prior to signing with AW… I was also in talks with APW. I decided to come here because my brothers and husband were here… so it just made sense that we all stick together. So much has changed this year… and it's kinda cool that my name is again associated with APW. This time it's a Tag Team Championship Match… somehow. Oh, I totally get that this is happening because of our beef with The Hangmen… but like… what the fuck?
Please excuse my language, lovies. I've got the mouth of a sailor when I've had a drink or two… or five. It's just been a rough… year… and I needed to just… unwind. Daughter of an alcoholic gets hammered in friends' kitchen. Yippee-ki-yay, motherfucker! Sometimes I wanna get on TV and just let loose but can't, but it's cool for Tom Green to hump a dead moose. What is she even talking about? That widow has gone mad!
We all go a little mad sometimes.
I just need this living nightmare with Frank and his goons to be over with. I need to wake up one day and not feel like the entire universe has fucked me. I need to be able to go to work without everyone walking on eggshells around me. Yes, I am irreparably damaged… but falling has taught me how to pick myself up again. I'm ready to get up and get moving… but those three monster must be sent packing first.
I've said before that Derrick has it in him to do what needs to be done… and I don't. I even convinced Geri that he'll be able to come back to her once this is all over with. Did you ever stop to ask why I don't have what it takes? All you'd have to do is take a look at my family history in this business… but since it all happened outside of the metasphere that birthed Action Wrestling… none of it is relevant in the eyes of the self-felatiod elitists around these parts.
To simplify the legend… my family has deep roots in going too far and not coming back in the same head space. My birth father is a sociopath… my mother was at one point deranged and obsessed with a cult leader… my step-dad has more blood on his hands than a butcher during grand opening. If I were to give in to the dark urges screaming beneath my flesh… there would be no way back. There would be no humanity to return to.
If I were to do what needs to be done… my daughter would be orphaned.
Instead… I will selfishly leave the final battle up to Derrick. The penultimate showdown will see The Hangmen against… Fuck The Hangmen? Sure. Let's go with that. It's more likely that it'll be Shooter and Noose in this match on Monday Night Clash… because Frank is a fuckin' coward. For all the locker room jabs about Derrick and I being jobbers… those two trashbag wrestlers are the epitome of just over broke. They are paid muscle… with not a lick of formal training. They only have those titles because they cheated… as usual.
They will try some nefarious shit in this match… and we will stop them. Their win at APW Alpha Showdown was a mistake… that FTH is prepared to make right. We are not just fighting for ourselves… or for Nathan… but we are also fighting for Alpha Pro Wrestling.
They deserve better.
We are better.
𝕯𝖆𝖘 𝖊𝖓𝖉𝖊.
